Dear Muse (Those Whom the Gods Wish to Destroy Book 1)

by Shawn Mackey

  And what are we to them? I hope they are numb to our existence. Let the nature of reality plague mankind’s thoughts. A constant state of whimsy must be hellish enough.

  This will not be my last entry. If I am run through a monster’s claws, gnashed by inhuman teeth, I will find a way back to you. I will have parting words for you, even if they must be written in blood. Until then, allow me to confront these monsters that want my life, man and other.

  Entry 54

  The entire populace converged around the town hall, armed with rifles, bows, knives, pitchforks, scythes, sharpened sticks, fire pokers, pistols, rock slings, metal slings, a chair leg lined nails, an iron furnace grating, and other assorted objects. One woman held a glass unicorn from Gwen’s old knick knack collection in her fist, its horn jutting between her closed fingers like a blade-tipped knuckle. Some of the men were trying to fortify the hall with wooden barricades, but the volunteers were quickly losing patience in a task that would take several hours, and a blaring war horn lay just around the corner.

  A line of men lay in wait near the tree line. I saw Aiden at the farthest corner, next to Gerald, their rifles pointed at the noise. I skirted past the boisterous crowd toward him, getting about halfway before a hand seized my shoulder and forcibly turned me around. I expected a vengeful townsperson and found my uncle’s angry glare. This attracted the attention of Penelope, one of the few without a weapon and plenty of nothing to occupy herself. She nudged the nearest folk, alerting them to my presence. They all stared at me, indignant words on the tips of their tongues, curbed by the incoming war horn.

  My uncle pulled me close and shouted into my ear. Stay back and protect my mother, he ordered. She had disappeared into the crowd while I searched for Aiden. I barged past Penelope, who said something I could not hear above the shouting and screaming, and moved toward the town hall. Fortunately, my mother’s eye-patched face was easy to distinguish in a packed crowd. She was assisting Fiona with fortifying one of the windows. I started pushing through the people, now standing shoulder to shoulder, as the horn hit its highest pitch. The panic reached a crescendo, then plummeted into utter silence. All eyes were on the trees.

  Rather than continue toward my mother and Fiona, who had stopped their hammering and nailing to see the cause of alarm, I turned to look for myself. All the heads and bodies obscured my view, so I pushed through the crowd to a more open area. In the seconds it took to pass through all the sweaty bodies, somebody fired a shot. The rifle’s crack was followed by a screech more piercing than the shrillest bird. It sent the crowd shuffling to and fro, loosening enough for me to get into the open and catch my first glimpse.

  Despite the four-legged cobra, the cyclopic horse-man, the wingless griffin, and the horned boar, I could not keep my eyes off the goblin, smallest in stature yet standing in the forefront. A larger group shadowed the small pack, their features indecipherable under the dark trees, their forms leaving the impression of a chimeric army. We still outnumbered them, a fact clearly understood by both parties. The difference was obvious, though: we were intimidated. Our riflemen could have made short work of the goblin and his monstrous cronies had we not been.

  They stood still as the bold little creature took a few steps forward. He peered left to right, as though to assess the situation, then clutched his bulbous gut and laughed. It sounded like a dying old man’s last mirthful bout. The dreadful clamor gradually faded, only to refresh on its last note. This prompted my uncle to step forward, and the first words were exchanged. It was a simple question: “What do you want?”

  His name was Lefnir, born in a faraway land known as Lakustria. Driven from his home by marauders, he and his brethren were in search of succor. A temporary reprieve would suffice, preferably a peaceful one. The deaths were part misunderstanding and part vengeance, mostly on behalf of his dear brother Kantos. Rather than wage war against one another, Lefnir proposed a truce, in the hopes of a future friendship. He let these last words linger.

  My uncle eventually spoke. We were in a similar position, he said, his tone remarkably amiable. A truce was ideal for both parties, but a friendship seemed far too presumptuous in the current situation. For now, they were better off learning as much as possible from each other. A private meeting between leaders was a perfect start.

  Lefnir waved at the three creatures behind him. They stumbled off into the wilderness, and with the growing darkness, disappeared into the monstrous crowd. My uncle peered over the riflemen, all of their fingers still firmly placed on the triggers. After a similar gesture, he approached Lefnir. They said some words I could not hear, then wandered closer to us. The hushed chatter grew increasingly agitated. Finally, one of the men shouted: “No!”

  The crowd seamlessly split into three factions: the naysayers, the inquisitive, and the indifferent. The former were at war, while the latter gradually separated, more interested in going back to their homes than having a say in the decision. Strangely, these few congregated around me, as though the social outcast would draw more attention than their cowardice. Not that the others were running on bravado. The whole ordeal was nothing but chest-beating indignation and angry pacifists.

  With no clear argument from either side, there was no decision to be made. We were being occupied. The nature of this occupation depended on Lefnir, who laughed at the affair, nudging my uncle and pointing at the more boisterous of the bunch. He made a poor diplomat, and an even poorer leader, though I doubted the mayor would prove better.

  A gunshot prevented a riot. We all looked at Aiden’s smoking rifle. The one eyed centaur stumbled out from the trees, and with a deep growl, fell to its side. The griffin poked its head out, peering at its ally’s corpse. The next shot pierced its long white neck, burst in a jet of bloody feathers and a choked squawk. They were walking out of bounds, one of the men said, he and Aiden already reloading their weapons.

  Lefnir stepped up to the crowd to apologize for his companions and their barbaric curiosity. He started to go on about the benefits of interacting with civilization, his brethren’s lack thereof, and the necessity of a mutual relationship. During this brief speech, he walked up to a barrel of the black coins, grabbed a handful and asked how we came across their currency, then opened his palm and revealed a glimmering gold coin. He tossed one at Gerald, who fumbled through the dirt to pick it back up. After fiddling with the coin for a few seconds, he nodded at my uncle.

  Those three factions melded back as quickly as they parted. Lefnir asked about our confinement to this island and mentioned that this time of year the winds were more favorable for travel. The suggestion was not lost on a single person. There was some chatter, more nodding than earlier, and an even cheerier looking Lefnir. As it dulled, my uncle turned to the goblin and asked the same question: “What do you want?”

  His reply was short and without humor: human flesh. In exchange for safe travel, unlimited riches, and a hospitable home, Lefnir and his brethren required one human per a year, always female unless presented with an acceptable excuse. On this date henceforth, they would return to a sacrifice and festival in his honor. Not as a deity, but a fellow individual in need of tribute. Our last three years on this island was already a debt, one he would overlook if an arrangement was settled today.

  We were stranded on this haunted isle, a curse that would not end with the death of Lefnir. I knew this from Kantos, while the others were roused by more superstitious notions. This was clearly an elaborate trick, according to the general consensus. Better to play along than to die in a futile battle. It was a matter of honor, said a minority, including Aiden. Better to kill as many as possible than to fall for a pitiful end. The children were a good example. What if Lefnir is being candid? In exchange for a leper, we reap bountiful rewards. Flesh is a commodity to these monsters, worth all the gold.

  Human flesh, Lefnir corrected. During the discussion, he managed to sneak into the center of the crowd. There were too few humans in his land, all of them off limits. After tasting u
s, his brethren will not settle for anything less than the tenderest of flesh. Our island would be something like a resort, and if our arrangement proved reliable, our kind could visit his world in due time.

  Who is expendable? All eyes were on me, including my uncle’s. Before a name could be uttered, he volunteered to be the first sacrifice. Lefnir broke into a fit of laughter, slapped him on the back, and reminded him of the stipulation. The goblin asked if they needed to draw lots or if a particular woman seemed fit. I did not recognize the first voice to call my name, but within seconds, it was chanted.

  I found myself face-to-face with Lefnir. He stood on the tip of his toes, curved talons like a bird’s, to look into my eyes. The wolf mask was a loose fit, shadowing around the sockets. I turned away, fearful of anything more of a glimpse. He roughly seized my chin and pulled me close, huffing a wheeze of fetid breath right under my nostrils. His cold fingers ran from my cheek to lips, his rancid mouth moving closer to mine.

  Aiden rushed through the crowd during this exchange, and right before Lefnir was about to kiss me, he slammed the butt of his rifle into the goblin’s neck. The creature fell to the ground, and then quickly jumped back to its feet with a growl. Aiden kept the rifle barrel pressed against Lefnir’s forehead. In his hesitation, the crowd begged him not to pull the trigger. Their persuasive attempts prevented as much, but my husband had no intentions of lowering the weapon. I opened my mouth, ready to say something, only to find myself at a loss for words.

  Lefnir clasped the barrel and accepted Aiden’s challenge: hand-to-hand combat, a one-on-one brawl. The winner gets the girl. The crowd parted even farther from us, and gradually, Aiden lowered his weapon. With a heavy sigh, he handed it to me. I took the rifle, scarcely mustering the courage to tell Aiden to be careful. If any of us could beat this pint-sized monstrosity, it was my husband. As I stepped aside, I peered toward my uncle and knew he assessed the same conclusion.

  Aiden removed his vest and shirt, standing nearly twice the size of his opponent. Lefnir clacked his taloned feet together, crouching like an aggressive feline. He pounced at Aiden, who side-stepped in time to avoid the goblin’s tackle, but unable to avoid the swiping claws. Streams of blood trickled from the fresh gash. Aiden was either numb or completely unaware. He planted his fist into the side of Lefnir’s head, knocking the creature off balance. It blindly swiped, missing Aiden again, and taking a heavy blow to the gut.

  I initially thought my husband at a disadvantage, every finger and toe of his nemesis a veritable knife, but the goblin’s strength seemed to match its tiny stature. Aiden brought a knee up to its face, knocking the wolf mask loose as the monster tumbled backward. Lefnir desperately tucked it back on his face while Aiden walked up to him. As he readied to plunge his foot onto the goblin’s skull, Lefnir reeled his leg back and slashed Aiden’s heel with his curved talon. Aiden tried to fall back onto his raised foot, only to tumble to the ground.

  Lefnir raised himself while Aiden could only get to his knees, his heel clearly cut to the bone. The goblin’s disproportionately large arms were still no match for Aiden’s, whose reach prevented those claws from opening his throat. Lefnir took another fist to the cheek, though still stood unwavering. He leapt onto Aiden again, this time succeeding in plunging a hand into his stomach, the other going for his face. Aiden snatched the goblin’s wrist with ease, and as Lefnir opened his mouth full of shark teeth to bite into his neck, my husband slammed his forehead into the goblin’s chin. The audible crack caused it to release its hand and stumble backward. Before it could pounce again, Aiden lunged his body forward, hurtling both back to the ground.

  As Aiden dug his thumbs into Lefnir’s eyes, the goblin shred his stomach to ribbons. Aiden’s grip loosened, and with a groan, he collapsed on top of Lefnir. The goblin pushed the human body aside, and in a single quick motion, stuck the tip of his finger into my husband’s chest, piercing his heart. After a violent twitch, Aiden went still.

  It was an ugly sight, one which I will not divulge, except for one detail that I scarcely registered at the time. Aiden’s thumbs were covered in a thick black sludge. Lefnir was quick to get back to his group, and I suppose I should be grateful he allowed my husband a burial rather than feasting on the remains. In hindsight, his swiftness was for good reason: the black film covering his eyes had been removed. It is an important detail to keep in mind for later.

  We buried Aiden while my uncle said some touching words I cannot recall. I was too distraught to weep. Rather than let it out on the spot, the tears for my departed husband will dribble out for a lifetime. It’s a damn shame I survived this whole ordeal. The town now looked at me with pity, though I doubt a single one would reverse their choice. When Lefnir returned, they all but pushed me toward him.

  The goblin seized me by the waist and twirled my body around, all the while letting loose that ugly laugh. He would not see a hair harmed on my pretty head, he told the crowd. In honor of the brave warrior, and because he took a fancy toward me, my life was spared. I was to be his wife, and in exchange, another sacrifice would be chosen. They offered a gigantic boar-like creature large enough to feed us a hundred times over. Since their offering had been so generous, Lefnir took it upon himself to make our choice. He moved closer to the crowd, all the women trembling and weeping. Instead of dragging his decision, characteristic of his cruel behavior thus far, he chose right away. His decisiveness was not meant to spare us the suspense, for the choice was easy. He pointed one of those black talons at my mother.

  Before any words could be uttered, the army emerged from the wilderness. A fairly large one slit the throat of the boar as others constructed a fire and spittle. I ran to my mother, throwing myself into her arms. We barely had time to say goodbye before she was dragged away by the monstrous hordes, their collective chant reaching a musical pitch in a language that was little more than hisses and clucks.

  Two swine-faced creatures bound my mother’s wrists and ankles to a stake. She cried out but did not struggle. I tried one last time to set her free, caught mid-run by a hand large enough to grasp both shoulders. This tusked behemoth, some sort of troll or ogre, whisked me into the air, carefully placing me back at Lefnir’s side. The stake was placed over a pit of smoldering sticks. As the fire grew, catching my mother’s clothes, one of the swine stuck an apple in her mouth. The other turned the spittle, the flame spreading to her hair and flesh. Lefnir shouted about burning the meat to a crisp, prompting the behemoth to rush to my mother and blow the fire out. The flamed continued to tickle her body, popping and blackening the skin, her limbs still trembling with life. The swine men procured daggers and carved portions from her rump, chewing on the fatty meat with content nods. The rest, including Lefnir, swarmed around the pit for their portions. When the last sliced their share, only a crumbled skeleton remained.

  The townsfolk were busy doling out the boar meat. The monsters and people ate together, nodding and smiling at each other. The sight did not sicken as much as baffle me. These two groups had no business getting along on neutral terms, let alone friendly. The two swine men were dancing around my mother’s corpse with two women, joining hoof and hand in an ecstatic frenzy. At the height of their dance, both ladies simultaneously leaped onto the pigs and kissed their snouts.

  This inspired something foul in Lefnir, who took me by the hand and led me to the nearest house. I did not struggle, still unable to process the whole experience. Once indoors, my mind opened to the reality in front of me. I sat on a bed, realizing it was my mother’s house and that this bed had been mine less than a year ago, miraculously surviving the quake. Lefnir paced up and down the room, muttering something about his lack of decency. Despite the prior events, gradually burning their way into my memory, I felt remarkably calm. To delay the inevitable, I distracted Lefnir with conversation while he stroked my head. He procured a lotus flower from inside his pelt and stuck it in my hair.

  How did he get here? Through the caverns on this island, which led to a parallel
island. How lengthy was the journey? Distance unfathomable, time immeasurable. Not because it was some boundless zone, but there was no way to account for time in the dark tunnels. Lefnir seemed to lack an intuitive measurement of time, or at least a dependable one. He could not grasp the concept of putting a number to his age, nor could he recall being born in the cave or on the island. His earliest memories were on the island, yet his time in the cave felt similar to his recollections prior to these earliest memories.

  Though it may seem as though Lefnir was making it up as we went along, he spoke sober and thoughtful. I was quite engrossed with the beast’s words, asking more questions than a brownnosing schoolgirl. Did he have a mother and father? No, all island spawn emerge from the cave without memories. Was Kantos his real brother? Just a dear friend before meeting Vargrim. Who is Vargrim? The strongest warrior in Yod, bane of the island spawn, closest ally to Lefnir. Why is Lefnir allied with the bane of his brethren? The island spawn are born unceasingly from the cave, thus leaving more to kill. Vargrim and the Yod make for more interesting company. Why is he here with them now? Lefnir was banished from the Yod for an incident with his wife. Who is his wife? Lina, daughter of Matralina and Gar, sister of Vargrim, and leader of the Kay.

  His lightning fast replies proved a bit dizzying, yet entirely comprehensible. My third act was currently unfolding. I could not put pen to paper because the events were far from finished. Perhaps it is not meant to be written by my hand.

  Lefnir fancied himself a cook, his meals famous throughout the Yod, and surely the eventual reason for annulment of his banish. He told me to wait as he fixed something on the stove. While in the kitchen, I scanned my room for anything to turn the situation into my favor. Now was the time to act.