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By Root 918 0

own, and he noticed how hers felt. ‘Dear, dear man, it’s a more common reaction than you think. Why, I’ve seen great men from the military cower when talking in front of a group of people. I’ve seen tribal barbarians refuse to venture out on certain evenings due to astrological phenomena. Fear – to such a degree – is often down to something that we experienced in our upbringing – but we cultists also believe many phobias simply derive from an instinct of self-preservation, a primitive echo from our evolution. Perhaps some of your own distant forebears were once poisoned by those creatures!’ With a confident smile, Bellis turned to look around the empty bistro.

The day was unwinding itself, and most of the customers had gone, including her two companions. Outside, it was getting dark, and they silently watched a street trader pitch his cart in front of the window, only to be moved on by army personnel. There was a distinct calm about the place – providing an ideal place to debate Jeryd’s secret fears.

Bellis produced a glass orb from her bag, heavy enough to require two hands as she placed it on the table.

‘Look at this marvel.’ She gestured with open palms, and stared at the object with such glee that he felt an expectation for him to be impressed.

‘A relic?’ Jeryd enquired.

Although it was transparent, he could see how pulses of coloured light flickered beneath the surface, like miniature flashes of lightning.

‘We’re too predictable at times,’ Bellis said shaking her head. ‘A relic for this, a relic for that – well, I guess we just get used to dealing with life in such a prescriptive way. Anyway, we call this one flaraor fold – which is literally translated as “the false world”.’

‘Looks like a crystal sphere to me,’ Jeryd mumbled, still peering down at it.

‘Well, yes, it is that too,’ Bellis cackled, and her laughter could almost cut through the glass.

‘What’s this thing do then?’

‘Look closer. What you see won’t be real, and if you want to be rid of your fears, then just touch it. Go on.’

Jeryd yielded, and moved his left hand towards the—

s

u

r

f

a

c

e

and suddenly, shooting through insanely bright storm clouds, he was elsewhere.

Warmth? The surroundings took shape, and he found that he was in a re-creation of his former house in Villjamur – in his cluttered bedroom, in fact – but everything was so bright, too bright. Milky light poured in through the windows, from a hazy, too-yellow sun outside, but then it faded into something more like the real world once his eyes adjusted.

Bellis’s voice came to him, from a distance or inside his head or both, he couldn’t work out.

—Remember, this is only a controlled vision, a re-created world – it isn’t real!

—What do I do? Jeryd asked.

—Wander about, or sit down and relax. Enjoy it!

—Easy for you to say.

Jeryd slouched on the familiar bedsheets, crisp and clean, and there was a tang of Marysa’s perfume in the air, a glass of whisky on one side. He was pleased to discover that he was imagining some of his favourite things.

—Comfortable?

—I guess so.

—Something will happen now, and you must realize that it is only an image. I will control it.

—Right . . .

An image shuddered into being. Jeryd froze. There it was, on the floor by the foot of his bed, enclosed in a glass box: a spider the size of his fist. The same feelings besieged him: he felt it again in his heart, not merely in his chest; an overwhelming tightness, as if his very life was trapped. A total shortness of breath. He squeezed his eyes shut.

—Just keep looking at it, right? It can’t harm you, silly Jeryd. It can’t go anywhere – and it is not real. It is just an image.

—I know, but . . .

—No buts! Focus, if you want to be rid of your fear.

Opening his eyes with a sigh, he then regarded the spider. Though not very big, it seemed to be staring up at him, taunting him. Jeryd’s tail was frozen still, and he could feel his pulse beating in his throat.

Bellis gave him instructions from afar, and Jeryd obeyed her reluctantly. Sometimes her words seemed slurred as if he couldn’t hear them clearly,