“Everyone has a soul. It lives deep down beneath the fa?ade you show the world. Between the heart and the ego. Behind the barriers we construct in our mind. It’s our job to find those souls, to walk their path with them. We see their obstacles and destinations. When we report back to the person what we see with their souls, it is up to them to do with our divinations what they will. We are merchants of fate, not its masters… Are you listening, boy?”

  “Yes…”

  Lenny was not listening. He was holding his head and trying his best not to throw up. Their makeshift tent of animal skins was filling with the noxious fumes of mock root. The plant was good for your gut health, at least that’s what his master said. When burned and smoked, it whittled down the barriers of reality. It allowed the user to witness beyond the veil, to see what the soul sees. It also clouded Lenny’s mind. He was forgetting things as quickly as he thought them up.

  “What do you think mock root would do if you brewed it like a tea? Do you think it would still get you high?” Krav asked. He wasn’t supposed to be in the tent; he was paid to stay outside of it and make sure people paid for their services. It was a slow day, however, and their master was patient when under the effects of mock root.

  “You brew it, you get a beverage that cleans out your gut. You’ll be purging yourself for three days,” Lenny said. His master had taught him that. His master had taught him everything about roots, leaves, flowers, barks… He could remember them all and yet couldn’t hold any memory of their usages for more than a fleeting moment. Lenny quickly forgot what he was talking about. There was a dizzying roil of nausea and then he forgot he was talking to Krav at all.

  Their master, Rufus, was looking at Lenny, and the boy’s head pounded beneath his gaze. The sun had cooked the old man’s head and left him with a crispy, reddish-brown scalp. White hair draped around his ears and the back of his head. His eyes were caked with black scabs that looked like dark lightning bolts scattering from his sockets. It was the sign of late-stage wasting disease, a common sight in the valley. The scabs had taken his sight and left milky pools of blindness in the old man’s eyes. Sometimes when he was high, Rufus would slack his jaw, revealing what was left of his lower row of teeth. Whenever he did, he looked like he was a zombie in a trance, and Lenny didn’t like that. Especially not when he was high as well.

  “Front purge or back purge?”

  “What?” Lenny asked. His brother seemed so far away in the tent.

  “Like, shitting myself or throwing up kind of purge?” Krav said. He was laying on his back in the dirt, one leg bouncing over the other as he twirled a stick between his fingers. He was looking at Lenny, waiting for an answer, but Lenny couldn’t even remember where they were.

  Sometimes it wasn’t fair. Krav was always so excited to get high. He foraged his own intoxicants, bringing them back for Rufus and Lenny to identify. If he wasn’t so stupid, maybe he would’ve been the apprentice instead of their bodyguard. But then what would that leave Lenny? Lenny couldn’t fight like Krav, he barely had the strength to collect berries for more than an hour whenever they were fortunate enough to stumble on a bountiful patch of plants. He would be dead weight if it wasn’t for the fact that he could pronounce the names of their herbs and assist Rufus in his readings.

  “Shitting yourself purge,” Rufus said. Lenny was relieved to see that the blank eyes had turned to his brother on the floor. He still didn’t know what they were talking about.

  Krav nodded, trapped in thought as if he was weighing the pros and cons of brewing mock root tea.

  There was a rattling at the tent’s entrance, and the three of them perked up. Whenever they had a visitor, it made Lenny’s skin crawl. Not because he hated his job, but because there was always a wave of anxiety that overcame him. Who was that? Are they raiders here to kill us? What could they possibly want now? What if it’s not a person at all?

  “We’re closed!” Krav said and launched his stick at the wall.

  “Hush up, boy!” Rufus said. “Come in.”

  The man that stepped in was dressed in simple rags. His feet were bare and badly sunburned. As he entered, he shook some sand from his matted hair and looked around the tent. He winced when he saw Rufus. “Are you the fortune teller?”

  “I am the traveler of many paths. I am the seeker of many fates.”

  “Yeah, he’s the fortune teller,” Krav said. “What do you want?’

  “My crops haven’t been growing properly. For the past two years, only about a quarter of them have been edible. I’m afraid if something doesn’t change, my family will be dead by the next harvest. Will you please tell me what I’m supposed to do?”

  “You bring payment?” Krav said. He was up now, circling their customer. Sizing him up. Krav was shoulder height to most, but he acted like he was a titan amongst men.

  The stranger nodded and removed something from a fraying bag. He held it out to Krav. It was a large gourd, big enough to feed the three of them for the night. Krav licked his dry lips and took the vegetable. He held it up for Rufus, and the old man touched it. Knotted fingers felt the warts and ridges, then he nodded.

  “Looks good. I’m going to make myself scarce,” the bodyguard said, then he was out of the tent.

  There was an awkward silence. Lenny was watching his master, then the stranger. Who was he again? A customer, he remembered. But his memory was failing. In a moments time he would forget the man again.

  “Have a seat,” Rufus said. He was pointing to a spot of the dusty floor beside Lenny. The customer looked like he was happy he didn’t have to sit next to Rufus, but he checked Lenny as he sat. He was trying to get a good look at his eyes. Lenny really didn’t like that. He knew what he was looking for. He wanted to know if Rufus had spread the disease to him. He hadn’t of course, but the distrust made him uneasy. The old man looked at them, “Have you ever had your soul guided?”

  The stranger swallowed hard and shook his head, then realized Rufus couldn’t actually see him. “No, never.”

  Rufus nodded. He searched his mottled robes for something, then produced a fresh mock root. He tossed it onto the orange coals in the center of the tent, then buried it with the coals. Smoke slowly seeped out.

  “Your body will feel light, and your head might hurt. You will experience some strange thoughts that seem foreign to you, but it’s your soul grasping at the barrier of realms. Relate to me anything that seems out of the ordinary. If you feel the urge to back out, I ask that you fight it and stay until the reading is complete. If I fail to finish while you’re still in my care, it could cause damage to your ego.”

  “I’m a simple farmer. My ego died long ago,” the stranger chuckled. The other two didn’t think it was very funny. He cleared his throat, “What happens now?”

  “Relax,” Lenny said. “Breathe deeply. Once you’ve found the barrier, you’ll recognize it. Just relax.”

  The stranger adjusted his posture a few times. He looked like he was unable to get comfortable, Lenny thought. The man was bunching his ragged clothes up, sitting crisscross one moment, and laying on his back the next. He was almost rolling in the sand, but finally he found a comfortable spot.

  Lenny watched as the mock root took effect. Minutes passed like hours. For a while the stranger looked normal, but over time his pupils dilated. Trickles of saliva formed in the corners of his cracked lips. He raised one hand in the air and watched it, mesmerized. He would splay his fingers, then clump them together in a weak fist, then open them back up. He smiled, “Wow.”

  “What do you see?” Rufus asked.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  “I don’t see anything, but I feel incredible.”

  Rufus nodded. “You are a grounded soul. What you lack in imagination and wonder, you make up for in practicality and pragmatism. What does it feel like?”

  “I feel like my body’s asleep, but I’m wide awake. Is this what they mean by daydreaming?”

  “This is the barrier between souls. This is the conscious state. You, who have worked with your hands and toiled beneath the sun, have built muscles in your arms and legs, but not the one in your head. Allow me to show you the mechanisms of the inner being. Allow me to guide the spirit that resides in you.”

  Outside the tent, Krav pulled a purple plant stem from his pocket and stuck it in his mouth. Chewing slowly, the stem released its intoxicating nectar. It tasted foul, but it made his face tingle and his mind light up. He felt like he was hyper aware, able to feel the desert winds pass through his body as if he was perforated by a thousand swords. He took a deep breath and reveled in the rising and falling of his chest. It felt good to get high.

  They had set up camp outside of a popular settlement, Kiva Noon. It was known for something; Rufus had told him it was a big deal at least. A sea of people waited in the shadow of the gates, trying desperately to cling to shade. Krav watched a pair of travelling merchants approach the large gates made of scrap metal and refuse. The crowd of vagrants pleaded with them, crawling around their feet and casting their diseased faces aside so their illness couldn’t be recognized. The merchants paid them no mind, even trampling some who got too close. They carried weapons with them on their strange pack beasts. Oxen, Krav remembered Rufus telling him. They wore simple robes, but they weren’t worn down by the arid wastes of the valley. They could be some of the lucky few to afford a change of clothes.

  As the merchants waited for the gate to open, one chanced a look towards Krav. The boy smiled, his teeth purple with the juices from the stem. “Got anything good for me in there?”

  “Got money?”

  “We trade services.” He threw a thumb over his shoulder, showing off the tent.

  “Oh… no I have a woman waiting for me in Agua Fria.”

  Krav frowned, then realized what he meant. “No, scab head! We’re spirit guides.”

  The second merchant spit on the dust. He turned, revealing a red glass eye. It glowed with burning light within his head. These merchants were well off. He gritted his teeth and said, “Fortune tellers. You prey on the foolish.”

  “In so many words,” Krav said. He liked where this was going. He wanted to pull that cybernetic right out of his head. “Why don’t you come over here? You can read my palm while it’s slapping you in the face.”

  “Save it for the other trash that washes up to the gates. I don’t waste my time with rabble like you.”

  Before Krav could think of another comeback, the gates rattled open. The vagrants clawed through the sands, trying to follow the merchants inside the city. Guards slashed at them with hunks of metal fashioned into bladed weapons. Some of them cowered, hiding beneath their mottled clothes and deciding not to risk their lives. Others persisted and were rewarded with deep gashes in their arms and backs. The gates closed, and the guards quickly kicked aside the remaining vagrants clambering for relief. The metal squealed, slammed, then was shut for good.

  Krav lacked the cunning wit his brother and master possessed, so thinking quickly, he shouted at the gates, “Oh yeah? Well, your ox stinks like shit!”

  Night had fallen on them by the time the customer left. When he emerged from the tent, his eyes were red and tired. Krav nodded at him, and he lulled past the boy. A lot of the first timers looked like that after a reading. The high would last until they slept it off, but until then, they were sleepwalking through life.

  The merchants never came out of Kiva Noon. Krav figured they got a nice cushy spot in one of the taverns, probably shacked up with a hot meal and a bed warmer for the night. He wondered what it must be like, being able to get into the city and be one of the bigshots. That wasn’t his role in this life, though. He had been at the barrier of souls so many times, he knew his place. He was a bodyguard, a thug, and nothing more. He was ok with that. He understood his paths were limited, but he was determined to walk them with his head held high.

  Back inside the tent, Krav was surprised to see Lenny asleep. The younger brother was curled up in the fetal position as if he was in pain. Rufus was watching the gourd cook in the fire with his blank eyes.

  “He couldn’t handle it again?” Krav asked. He threw his stick at Lenny. It wasn’t hard, but the boy winced and brought his knees closer to his chest.

  “Nausea. He’s pushing himself too far. Do you know what an anchor is?”

  Krav was kneeling, checking the gourd. It was starting to stink up the tent, but it was an odor that made the pit in his stomach widen and yawn. He couldn’t remember the last time he ate. “Is it like an animal or something?”

  “It was something boats used to keep themselves in place while they were docked. They would make thick chunks of metal into a sort of hook that caught the seabed and held them in place. Lenny is a lot like an anchor, or at least he tries to be. He tries his best to hold those who wander the barrier of souls in place, but the waters are too deep, and his chain isn’t long enough yet. Soon, he’ll be a full-blown spirit guide, but he must be able to reach the depths first. You have the opposite problem, boy. You can reach those depths, but the weight of your anchor isn’t strong enough to hold anyone down but yourself.”

  “Thanks?” Krav guessed. He poked at the gourd again. The stick went in as if the gourd had turned to hot mush. The sweet and tangy smell of cooked vegetable steamed out of the hole and made Krav’s mouth water. He chanced to sneak a finger into the gourd, to steal a bite before Rufus gave the word that they could eat. He winced at the heat and quickly pulled his finger away.

  “Wait for your brother to eat,” Rufus said. Sometimes Krav didn’t know if he was actually blind or if he only pretended to be to catch the boys acting out.

  Krav sighed and laid down next to the fire. He watched his dinner smolder above the coals with a growling stomach. Saliva was pooling in his lower jaw, and he decided he needed something to take the edge off. “Can I eat the mock root?”

  “Not if we’re going to keep our schedule. We’re going to be digging shit holes all the way to Agua Fria if you try that.” Rufus pulled something out of his robes. It looked like it had been shiny once. Krav tried to think about what it was called, then it came to him: a spoon. Rufus scooped out a small bit of gourd, blew on it, then took a bite.

  “Hey! I thought we were waiting for Lenny!”

  “I’ve been doing soul work all day, boy! Prolonged exposure to mock root smoke works up quite the appetite.”

  Krav kicked at his brother. The boy was still dead asleep, and he continued to curl into himself to protect from his brother’s assault. Krav groaned. “Well, what can I eat?”

  Rufus thought for a moment, then rummaged through one of their baskets for something. He produced a bumpy fruit. It was the size of Krav’s palm, and it had a pink color to it. It felt tough, the boy tried to squeeze it to test it. He sniffed it, almost able to taste its foul flavor. “What is this?”

  “Where I’m from, they call it a desert lotus, but I think most people call it a cactus apple. You can brew it into a concentrate to make a sleep potion, but you could also just eat it and get a little sleepy.”

  Krav shrugged and bit into the fruit. It was pungent and affronted his senses, but it also filled his stomach. He took another bite and pretended it was the gourd instead. “Will you tell me a story?”

  Rufus smiled and raised an eyebrow. His rotting teeth were on full display as he chuckled. “Aren’t you a little old for stories?”

  “Aren’t you at that age where all you want to do is tell stories?”

  “I suppose. What do you want to hear?”

  “Tell me one I haven’t heard. Teach me something.”

  Rufus thought for a moment, then he got up. It was like watching a newborn animal learn to walk in slow motion. The old man’s arms worked hard to propel him upwards, but he shook with every inch of his ascent. When he was up, he balanced himself on unstable knees. He waved Krav over to the flap of the tent. The boy went and helped him outside.

  Nightfall had descended on the valley. The vagrants who cowered by the wall had spread out, no longer desperate for the shade. The starry sky was a dark blue, but to the west, there was an ominous glow staining the sky. Rufus pointed to it.

  “Do you see the green glow to the east?”

  Somehow, he had been able to point directly at the glow but got the direction wrong. “The west, yeah.”

  “I could’ve sworn it was the east…” Rufus said, rubbing his chin. “Anyway, do you know why they call it the twin suns?”

  “No, why?”

  “Someday we’ll go out there. I’ll take you. Long ago, two armies fought over this place. There are some spots in the sand where you can still find their skeletons buried deep. Their war ramped up to a point that both sides agreed that if one couldn’t have it, neither could the other. So, they bombed each other. Great explosives that shattered the sky and poisoned the wind. They say the soldiers are still burning to this day, and that’s why the horizon glows after all this time.”

  Krav stared out at the glow. Rufus was right, he could see cracks in the sky. There were beams that flashed like lightning, and the glow seemed to roll, growing dimmer and brighter like a flickering flame. It was so far away from them, yet so omnipotent. It didn’t matter where you were in the valley, you could always see the burning of the twin suns.

  Krav had never heard the story told so practically. Some of the customers he talked to said they were fallen stars that crashed to the earth and wiped out most of the life. Others said it was beings not of this world, whose experimentations had caused a catastrophe. The boy particularly liked the story that it was the host of demons who kidnapped the citizens of the valley and put them on an ever-burning pyre, the cooked souls being the reason for its haunting glow. But he liked Rufus’s story even better. There was something so believable about it. Though, it was hard to imagine any bomb big enough to leave such a lasting impression, let alone two.

  He smiled at the blind man. Krav knew he wasn’t Rufus’s favorite. When the old man died, the business would be Lenny’s. He would be his brother’s keeper for the rest of their lives. But it was the quiet moments like these that made him feel like Rufus really understood him. The two of them were a little high, their bellies almost empty, and still they managed to take a break from the chaos of the wasteland to admire the Valley of the Twin Suns.