The Unwaba Revelations: Part Three of the GameWorld Trilogy

by Samit Basu

  Generals were summoned and orders issued. The vaman rulers sat in silence once again, watching their troops as the sun set.

  ‘Earth praise the Furry Ones!’ yelled Yin suddenly.

  The others looked at her flushed face, and at one another, surprised and amused.

  ‘You seem to be experiencing an attack of romanticism,’ said Kuin.

  ‘You know, at times like this I question our whole way of thinking,’ said Yin. ‘This is one of the turning points of vaman history, and you treat it like a resource management exercise. Look around you! We have found New Asroye and besieged it, it is only a matter of time before we capture it, and you sit here looking as if this were any other day. We should rejoice! We have surpassed our fathers, and ushered in the Age of Reason they could only dream of! This is a moment for fireworks, for wine and poetry!’

  ‘No poetry. Gives me gas,’ said Flaad.

  Kuin patted Yin’s shoulder reassuringly. ‘I understand how you feel,’ she said. ‘I had expected my first surface campaign to be full of excitement as well, years before you were born, and I was rather disappointed when I discovered, after a glorious and meticulously planned victory, that I was…bored. It is the price we must pay for being efficient, for waiting for the perfect moment to strike. What we see today is, after all, merely the execution of the endgame; the real battle was fought in tactics a while ago. You cannot expect maximized excitement to occur concurrently with minimized risk.’

  Yin nodded, but looked sad. ‘It’s all right,’ she said. ‘I suppose capturing the city once we break through the portal will be exciting enough. I don’t know what’s come over me, really. Maybe it’s the magic in this forest. It makes me wish things weren’t always so…mechanical.’

  ‘Be grateful for easy victories when they come, Yin,’ said Kuin. ‘There will be plenty of excitement later. You think all this will end with the fall of Asroye? Far from it. The ravians will rise again. There will be other threats, new invaders, new enemies. I foresee very little sleep in the years to come.’

  ‘Not to forget the fact that we’re going to invade what’s left of Imokoi and stop letting the humans pretend they run Kol,’ said Flaad. ‘And then there’s Xi’en, Avranti, Artaxerxia. The north, the west, other worlds if we manage to make portals. Lots of new people to meet and conquer. That should be excitement enough, even for you.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ said Yin. ‘You’re joking… aren’t you?’

  Kuin cleared her throat nervously. ‘Well, we should have mentioned it before,’ she said. ‘The thing is, the Slimy Ones invasion showed us that we can no longer pretend to be safe underground. Our sunworld policies will have to be… adjusted slightly. The plans are all in place. We really should discuss this later.’

  Yin almost choked. ‘You can’t be serious! Nor, they’re joking, aren’t they?

  ‘No,’ said Nor. For the first time since Yin had met him, he smiled.

  ‘We said we were going to bring about a bloody new Age,’ said Flaad. ‘What did you expect?’

  ‘We were going to call it the Age of Reason,’ said Yin. ‘We were supposed to bring about lasting peace.’

  ‘That’s the plan.’

  Kuin smiled reassuringly, and patted Yin’s arm. ‘It’s been a tiring day for all of us,’ she said. ‘Get some sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning.’

  At dawn, the golems tore through the foundations of New Asroye, and the portals of the Hidden City were cast aside. A beautiful city was revealed, a city of wood and stone and marble, of towers and arches and winding cobbled streets, of white domes and fluttering banners.

  ‘Oh, that’s so lovely,’ said Kuin Lizpula.

  Flaad Nagpo belched, possibly in agreement.

  ‘Raze it to the ground,’ said Nor Rispo.

  And as New Asroye’s cohort of ravians rode out in a last desperate charge, and the vamans crushed them savagely, efficiently and mechanically, Yin Stinpula didn’t feel better at all.

  Chapter Ten

  From The Voyage of the Duck of Destiny, by Telu-yeti (a work in progress)

  I

  It’s the end of the world, so send for the girls that know how to hold their rum,

  We’re Captain Fujen’s Furies and we’ll fight till Doomsday come!

  We sail with a smile from Turtle Isle to the shores of the Standing Sea,

  Sing along to the song of the tarty tars of the Duck of Destiny!

  Now, this little ditty is writ by a yeti and a pretty tidbit is she,

  She may look slow, but her smile melts snow on the Mounts of Harmony.

  Sold for a slave to a scurvy knave, but fearless Fujen freed her,

  Now on the decks of the dauntless Duck she sings for her lovely leader.

  II

  So we sailed forth from pirate port to go and greet the gods,

  To give them gifts so grand they’d understand that only sods

  Would destroy this joyful world, its wild and wondrous creatures,

  Its treetops tall, its fruits and all its fine geographical features.

  At first, calm seas and gentle breeze; this placid, easy venture,

  Wouldn’t last, we knew, would fast turn into wild adventure.

  But we feared not, cared not a jot, nor stumbled as we swaggered,

  For we had mighty Mantric and the dashing Silver Dagger

  Heroes bold, they came from Kol, they filled us all with wonder,

  Their eyes were bright, their breeches tight, our hearts they rent asunder,

  Even though we all did know that men, they meant bad luck,

  We owed them thanks, not walks on planks, for they had saved the Duck.

  One fateful day the wind changed, danger reared its doleful head,

  ‘Twas ancient ugly Aguleb and his crew of cruel undead!

  Their souls they’d sold to demons old, they sailed to slay a whale,

  They meant with dragon skull to ram our hull, and our hearts quailed.

  Now gods, like seas and ships and shoes, are famous for being fickle,

  We did not care, Dagger was there, and Dagger knew how to tickle,

  The whale soon flew to the undead crew, spurred on by Dagger’s finger,

  With spell-bound fire and sword we slew the few that dared to linger

  The battle hurt our ship; we floated rudderless, despairing,

  Was this discord a just reward for derring-do and daring?

  A miracle we needed then, the gods were not found lacking,

  The wooden bird, it shook and stirred! It was alive! And quacking!

  Of no use now were oar and sail, or compass, wheel and mast

  The gods themselves were guiding us, the Duck was gliding fast,

  We looked ahead, some cried in dread, and others stared in silence,

  Where had lain open sea but recently, there were now islands!

  The sun was circling in the sky, the wind an endless howl,

  The heavens loomed upon the doomed crew of the Fateful Fowl

  Time and tide had ceased to be, reason, space, diminished,

  The gods had come to test us, should they best us, we were finished.

  Then Fujen raised her cutlass. ‘Gutless whelps!’ she cried, ‘Now hear me!

  ‘I fear not death, nor dragon’s breath, as long as you are near me!

  ‘My dreadnought dears, my buccaneers, my anchors in rough weather,

  ‘Conquer fear and doubt, sing out! We’ll win if we’re together!’

  We dried our eyes and slapped our thighs, we yelled and yowled and roared,

  We were on fire! We cried, inspired, ‘Furies all on board!’

  And then the Duck, it shook and stuck on a briny bar of sand,

  Irik, our regal seagull, cried ‘Ahoy! Look, ladies! Land!’

  We leaped ashore, and leaped some more, and looked at all around us,

  We looked for trouble, not for long, for trouble came and found us!

  A hungry horde of cannibals! They fought hard but we
fought harder,

  We chopped and diced, we carved and sliced, and helped restock their larder.

  We’d passed the test! We needed rest, but rest was not allowed us

  The Duck quacked; we ran back on board, afraid she’d leave without us.

  Soon enough the Duck set off, towards another island

  With stately gait she swam the straits and steered us on to dry land.

  And soon we were marooned again, left on the isle of Idrops,

  Its name came from its master fierce, he was a fearsome cyclops.

  He trapped us in a cave and said he’d eat us by the dozen,

  Mantric made us eye-patches and told him we were cousins.

  The Cyclops winced, quite unconvinced, and moved to mince and mangle,

  But Mantric cast illusion-blasts, and caused a merry tangle

  Idrops gaped in human shape, we were a Cyclops clan,

  ‘It wasn’t me!’ he gasped, aghast. ‘It was the one-eyed man!’

  From isle to isle we rode in style, from test to test we scurried,

  From shore to shore we sang and swore, from beach to beach we hurried,

  We solved so many riddles rare, won so many races,

  Learned such fascinating facts, punched so many faces,

  In Ages past the gods first cast these islands in the oceans,

  To test the best of mariners, and cure them of the notion,

  That they could beat the strangest creatures that the gods created,

  Fair enough, but now, you see, these tests were quite outdated.

  Piscibiscicla, an isle of warrior-women proud

  Had an ancient, sacred law: Men were Not Allowed

  Ships of men that met them then succumbed to their attacks,

  But what were warrior-women to the pirates of the Quack?

  They fell in love with Jen at once; she offered them employment,

  They offered us their finest meats, much wine and much enjoyment

  We spoke for hours on food and flowers, on martial arts and dresses,

  On legends and the lovely length of Amlokini’s tresses.

  On the isle of Mosmoro we met his monstrous beasts,

  Pigs with wings and ruby rings, and goblin-turkey priests,

  He thought we’d be distraught to see his twisted, strange creations,

  He seemed surprised and beamed at our sincere congratulations.

  We journeyed on, and met a tribe of nasty little boys,

  They’d formed an island empire, full of war-paint and sharp toys,

  Their ways were rude, their weapons crude, they seemed to want us dead!

  The Dagger smacked them silly, and then sent them off to bed.

  Perhaps the toughest tests of all were on the isles of Aedens

  One island full of luscious lads, and one of beauteous maidens,

  Firm and lithe their flawless forms, guileless their pretty eyes,

  We loved them with a sailor’s love, and left them with a sigh.

  On Cranial Isle a battle raged that shook the mighty trees,

  Giant apes fought lizards great with brains the size of bees,

  One such brute thought it astute to try abduct the Dagger,

  He’s a wiser monkey now, though he walks with a stagger

  We found a lonely stranded man, his name was Livar-Gil,

  For years he’d sought to build a yacht, return to hearth and till.

  ‘Why go back, Gil?’ we asked. ‘Was not your old life rude and tough?’

  We left him on the maidens’ isle. He seemed content enough.

  We duelled with young yamamba, snakes with white-haired epithelia,

  We fought off giant mosquitoes on the isle of Anophelia,

  We saw the fabled Aieou isle, that sunken paradise,

  Its marble kings had seaweed hair and ever-seeing eyes,

  ‘Why carry on?’ Jen asked Mantric. ‘Why bother? What’s the use?

  ‘Why soldier on from dusk to dawn? Why take all this abuse?

  ‘Why do gods make mortal men and then seek to destroy them?

  ‘Why take the pains? Are they insane? Or do we just annoy them?’

  ‘We are their spark, their works of art,’ said Mantric, ‘We’re their muses,’

  ‘Each one of us a muddled mass that thrills, delights, confuses,

  ‘Through us they see, they seek, they peek, they speak, they want, they wish,’

  ‘Why kill us then?’ ‘I do not know. Look, a pretty fish!’

  We saw the glittering diamondfish that swam with gem-fins westwards,

  Heard the stirring songs of rocs as they rolled their eggs nest-wards,

  What wonders we have seen! What scenes of hope and dread and glory!

  What mysteries, histories, tapestries! What secrets, sagas, stories!

  We chuckled and swashbuckled and the Duck held its head high,

  But our hearts filled with dark despair each time we saw the sky,

  For the midday sun, it shone right on, as if no time had passed

  Between our tiff with Aguleb and the island we’d crossed last!

  Had the mad gods stopped the world to watch us being clever?

  Were we doomed to sail in vain from isle to isle forever?

  Would we too turn undead, a crew of ill-famed pirate raiders,

  And stalk the seas on killing sprees as Fujen’s Isle Invaders?

  The Dagger heard our worried words, and laughed as he told the crew,

  If this was what gods desired, they hadn’t thought things through!

  For every day that the Duck stayed stuck, every fateful hour,

  The gods would not destroy the world, and victory was ours!

  ‘Cheer up!’ said the dashing blade, ‘And go and wash your necks!’

  ‘If you feel muddled, come and cuddle me on the foredeck!

  ‘For if my weird is truly steered to an endless quest at sea,

  ‘There’s no place I’d rather grace than the Duck of Destiny!’

  Through our cheers, our happy tears, our fears all veered away,

  We drained our mugs with gluttonous glugs and the Duck, it steered away!

  The gods, disarmed by Dagger’s charm, granted us sweet rest,

  The sun approved, and swiftly moved, and sailed towards the west.

  The sea was calm and quiet that night, and bright the stars and moon,

  We floated on, we sang till dawn, a change was coming soon,

  At first light, we saw a sight, as strange as ever seen,

  The islands, they had disappeared as if they’d never been.

  We’d passed the tests, we’d joked and jested through the churning waters,

  On sea or land, none could withstand the daring Duck’s dear daughters!

  A mist of mystery kissed the sea, a distant trumpet sounded,

  We’d come to seek the Standing Sea and soon we found we’d found it!

  A sheet of shimmering, glimmering water stretched up to the sky,

  Rainbows arced through mist-clouds dark and foam-walls mountain-high

  Thunder growled, the Fateful Fowl had won against all odds,

  We’d come to meet our destiny. We’d come to greet the gods.

  III

  Bind me tight in biting chains, trap me, towering spikes,

  Beat me, eat me, stab me, grab me, anything you likes,

  I won’t forget the joy I felt at the vision ‘fore my eyes,

  When I saw that Vertical water falling, washing o’er the sky!

  It’s the end of the world, you sent for the girls that know how to hold their rum,

  We’re Captain Fujen’s Furies and we’re here, and doomsday’s come!

  We sailed with a smile from Turtle Isle to the shores of the Standing Sea,

  Sing along to the song of the tarty tars of the Duck of Destiny!

  Chapter Eleven

  The Chief Civilian stepped out rather gingerly on her new balcony, her pet amphisbaena coiled loosely around her neck. She regarded with a s
keptical eye the pale moon that hung over her freshly reconstructed palace. Red Phoenix guards drifted by in the distance, circling the palace, watching magnificent vaman construction-cranes put their city back together. Central Kol’s towers were growing steadily skywards, no longer a maze of creaking bridges and leaning towers and unexpected domes and corners. The vamans were rebuilding Kol to a new plan, bigger, broader and bolder than before. But was Kol’s new heart better? Temat wondered. The city had told its own story through its towers before, each layer, each new style a testament to the efforts of a generation of ambitious architects and builders. Temat chastised herself immediately for thinking like an old person. The new towers were stronger, and safer, and much better organized. This was progress.

  Roshin joined her on the balcony. ‘They’re reopening Frags tonight,’ she said. ‘Son of Frags, they’re calling it. Do you want to go?’

  Temat smiled. ‘No, thank you. But you should go, and take the Sadori Sisters with you. I’ll be perfectly safe – every self-respecting assassin will be there.’

  ‘As you wish. One more thing. Arathognan is here. He says you wanted to see him,’ said Roshin.

  ‘I didn’t. Take him to the Son of the Fragrant Underbelly with you, and make sure he has a good time. He has been working far too hard.’

  ‘As you wish.’ Roshin left, and the Civilian stood alone again, looking at the river Asa wind cold and grey through her new city.

  She sensed someone behind her. She whirled around, her hand starting towards her concealed dagger. Ojanus, startled out of his slumbers by the sudden movement, rose and hissed malevolently.

  It was Arathognan. He looked troubled.

  ‘Are you all right?’ he asked. ‘I had a bad dream.’

  The Civilian laughed. ‘It’ll take much more than a bad dream to harm me, Thog,’ she said. ‘What are you doing here?’