On the other hand, he realized Bifor was right. Without Malock's strong leadership, the racial tensions bubbling just beneath the surface would burst out and the entire crew would likely fall into chaos. True, they would still have Banika to lead them, but as strong as she was, he wasn't so sure she would make for the best replacement Captain.
So he said, “All right. But we should get a few others first. Three people might not be enough to rescue Malock.”
Vashnas sighed, but said, “All right. Grab three others. Quickly. Doesn't matter who. We've got to go before it's too late.”
-
Malock didn't realize it, but he must have dozed off sometime in the last hour because he jerked awake when he felt something crawl over his legs. He raised head high enough just in time to see the tail of a snake slither somewhere into the darkness.
The sight of the snake made him start. The sudden movement sent a jolt of pain up his spine, forcing him to groan louder than he would have liked. When nothing attacked him, he allowed himself to sit up, but slowly because his back still ached from the fall. He looked around the bottom of the pit to observe his surroundings, hoping to distract his mind from his aching back.
It was still dark, but not quite as dark as before. A gap in the trees above allowed a little sunlight to shine through, showing him that he had landed in a bed of old vines, fallen leaves, and bushes. The pit smelled much like the rest of the jungle, although a whiff of blood told him that he was bleeding and a quick check of his body showed that a small cut in the back of his head was the source of the bleeding (though it was thankfully not very much).
Standing up, Malock looked at the walls of the pit. They were tall and covered in vines, so he figured he could climb out of the pit if he tried. His back and head still ached and there was still the possibility of a monster above, but he didn't want to stay down in this pit forever, so he decided he would take his chances. He sheathed his sword and walked over to the nearest wall.
The first vine he grabbed snapped straight off, but the second vine held his weight and he began climbing it. It was hard work. The walls were much taller than he had first supposed and his aching back and head made him feel like he was lugging a hundred swords lodged into his spine. Nonetheless, he had to get out of there, find the shore, and try to return to the Iron Wind. Nothing else mattered.
It wasn't until after he reached the top of the pit and pulled himself over, his body and clothes drenched with sweat and his back almost literally screaming with pain, that he realized six hours must have already passed. If they did, then that meant that the crew of the Iron Wind were probably already on their way home, abandoning him on this strange island, just as he had ordered them to.
It seemed like such a noble idea at the time, Malock thought, lying flat on his stomach near the lip of the pit. The selfless Captain, putting the interest of his crew first by giving them the opportunity to leave even if he is not dead. Now I can't help but think it was the stupidest decision I've made yet on this voyage.
There was the small chance that maybe they disobeyed or perhaps ran into some kind of trouble that prevented them from leaving. That seemed unlikely to Malock until he remembered the jungle attacking and probably killing his team. Maybe the waters around the island were as violent and unpredictable as the jungle.
After a few minutes of resting, Malock sat up. His back didn't hurt quite so bad anymore, but it was still bad enough that he had to sit still for several minutes, practicing a form of meditation that a Grinfian monk had taught him in his teenage years. It was a simple technique in which Malock tried to focus on something else to distract his mind from the pain. Supposedly, masters of this technique could wipe away even chronic pain, but Malock had never bothered to master it because it seemed unnecessary.
Now Malock wished he'd been a better student as a teenager because he found it almost impossible to focus on anything but the pain. He decided to give up and just start walking to the shore. He wasn't sure what direction the shore was, but he reasoned that he would reach it no matter what direction he walked in; after all, Ikadori Island was not a continent. So long as he kept walking, he would eventually reach the beach.
Carefully, Malock rose to his feet, leaning against a tree for support. This simple movement made his back ache, but he bit his lower lip to keep from crying out, remembering that the monster in the jungle was probably still out there, perhaps searching for him even now.
Just as Malock decided to test walking, a loud voice, like the rustling of leaves, came from above, saying, “How was your nap, mortal?”
The unexpected voice caused Malock to jump, almost causing him to fall back into the pit. But he caught himself and stumbled back away from the pit. His sudden movement caused his back to flare in pain again, making him curse the Powers and the world they created.
“Back pain?” said the voice above, sounding amused. “You might want to think about going to a doctor for that ... if there were any doctors on this island, of course.”
Rubbing his back gingerly, Malock looked up and spotted a tiny, overweight man sitting on the branch of a nearby tree. He almost missed him at first because the man's skin was a green as the trees' leaves and he had vines wrapped around his arms and legs like muscle bands.
Malock had never seen a man quite like him before. He was completely naked, his genitals being covered only by a small leaf that left little to the imagination. His hair was long and flat, like grass, and his eyes resembled that of a cat's, glowing red through the strands of hair that covered his face. He swung his feet back and forth, feet that looked less like real feet and more like wooden replicas, like the work of a master carpenter.
“Who are you?” said Malock, reaching for his sword. “Are you a native of this island?”
The man chuckled. “I am the ruler of this island, actually. And you and your friends have trespassed upon my domain.”
Malock's eyes widened. “Are you the one responsible for the vines that attacked me and my men earlier?”
The man snapped his fingers and a vine immediately shot out of the the trees and wrapped tightly around Malock's waist. Before the prince could react, the vine zoomed back up, taking him with it, and then jerked to a stop, making him level with the green man. The sudden stop made his back burn with pain, but he forgot about it quickly when the green man's smell—a mixture of leaves and mud—entered his nostrils and made him gag.
Up close, the green man was even less pretty. His chest was splattered with mud, his teeth looked like crude wooden replicas of the actual things, and his lips were stained with what looked like blood. The green man also held a femur in his hand, a femur with teeth marks in it, but that was perhaps the least strange thing about his appearance.
The green man smiled and said, “Of course I did. I control all the plants on this island. I don't really like visitors, which is why I live all alone here and why I ate every one of your men.”
Malock ceased struggling against the thick vine upon hearing that. “Eat? By the gods, Crina was right. There are cannibals on this island and you're one of them.”
The green man looked offended. “Me? A cannibal? Hardly. I am neither human nor aquarian and I eat both. That makes me a predator and you the prey. Not a cannibal.”
“But ...” Malock realized what the red stains on the green man's lips were. “If you're not human, why do you look kind of like a human?”
“Because I like this form,” said the green man, patting his big, round belly. “Besides, it's easier to speak in your filthy language with this body. I'd rather not do it at all, but I've been getting bored of quick kills recently and so want to draw this one out as long as I can.”
“If you're not human or aquarian, then what are you?” said Malock. “A katabans? Perhaps some kind of demonic spirit attached to the jungle of this island so you can't spread your evil ways elsewhere?”
The green man laughed at that. “Demons are the things of nightmares and ghost stories, mortal. I
am one hundred percent real. I can even offer objective, verifiable proof, if you want.”
Without warning, the green man slapped Malock in the face. He slapped Malock so hard that the prince briefly lost consciousness before he came to. The green man still stood there, looking quite pleased with himself.
“I like to beat up my lunch a bit before I eat it,” the green man said, licking his lips, smearing the blood that stained them. “I've always been criticized for my methods, even by my siblings, but I say you can't have a good mortal meal unless the meal in question has been thoroughly beaten. Wouldn't you agree?”
Malock wanted to say, No, I wouldn't, but realized it was a rhetorical question.
Instead, he said, “Who are you? I've never heard of you. Not even Vashnas mentioned you to me.”
“I like to keep to myself,” said the green man. “After all, I am the Loner God, God of Solitude, the Jungle, and Animals.”
Malock frowned. “You can't be Kitos, the God of Loners. He looks nothing like you.”
“I didn't say I was that mortal-loving idiot,” said the green man. “Your mortal tongue is incapable of pronouncing my real name. Therefore, I had to use the closest translation I could find, which unfortunately makes me sound like my less-than-intelligent younger brother. It is inconvenient, but I blame that on you mortals and your stupid language.”
Malock tried to recall the entire Northern Isles pantheon, which was difficult because there were so many deities in it. “I don't remember there being a god like you. Are you a minor god?”
The Loner God slapped Malock again and said, “I'm not minor. Gods aren't minor. You're lucky I didn't rip your head off for that remark.”
His head spinning, Malock decided to be more careful about what he said to this deity. “I still don't remember you in any of the pantheon lists, though.”
“That's because I shun the worship and attention of mortals,” said the Loner God. “Unlike my northern siblings, whose fragile egos require that they receive constant praise and adoration from you cattle nearly every day. Frankly, it astounds me that they haven't started farming you for food. Your mortals are so delicious, despite being as dull as rocks and far less useful.”
“But all gods have cults and religions,” Malock said. “Sure, some cults are small and obscure, but all gods are worshiped by mortals and all gods want to be worshiped. My parents always taught me that the gods needed our praise, love, and respect.”
“Your parents sound like a couple of pathetic little mortals who are trying not to invoke the wrath of my northern siblings,” said the Loner God with a snort. “Hearing that just makes me all the more grateful for my decision to stay in the south with my other brothers and sisters.”
“You mean ... there are more of you southern gods?” said Malock with a gulp.
The Loner God flashed his wooden teeth and said, “Yep. At least as many as our northern siblings. And, like me, they all see mortals as useful only for a good meal.”
Until now, Malock hadn't realized just how much he had not feared the southern seas. Before, he had supposed that he and his crew would only have to fight bad weather and perhaps a few hungry sea monsters. But if the Loner God was telling the truth, then there was an entire pantheon of deities that had no problem with killing and eating mortals, human and aquarian alike.
The Loner God must have sensed his fear because he said, “Until today, you didn't really think you and your crew on that pathetic raft you call a ship were in any real danger. The arrogance and ignorance of mortals astounds me, almost as much as my northern siblings demanding your praise and worship. Almost.”
Malock quickly realized he had little time before the Loner God decided to dig in, so to stall, he asked, “I don't understand. Up north, we know nothing about you southern gods. Until today, I had no idea you or your siblings even existed. Why have we not known about you?”
The Loner God took a bite out of the femur, crunched on it thoughtfully for a second, and then swallowed and said, “I imagine my northern siblings wanted to keep your mortals safe. I imagine they believed that you mortals would live in perpetual fear if you knew that we southern gods existed. Or perhaps they are afraid you mortals would demand that they fight us for your own safety. Of course, it is equally possible they may see we southern gods as a threat to their worship and so keep you mortals in ignorance so you think they are the only deities in this world. There are myriad reasons why they may have kept you ignorant and I don't care about any of them.”
“I see,” said Malock. “But when did this happen? Why do some of you gods stay in the north and some in the south? I bet it's a fascinating story, no doubt spellbinding, especially coming from the mouth of a god as powerful and respectable as you.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere among us southern gods, mortal,” said the Loner God. “But I suppose I could tell you. I'm still digesting your men, so I imagine that, by the time I end the tale, I will be hungry enough to eat you.”
Malock nodded. He thought about reaching for his sword while the Loner God talked, but he realized the could not do that without the hungry god noticing. He would have to think of another way to free himself, and quickly, because he didn't know how long this tale was going to be.
“It started in the beginning,” said the Loner God. “Literally. When the Powers first crafted this world, they made us gods first of all. Our job was to maintain the various domains and realms of this world, both the concrete and the abstract. We were the first of all creation, older than the stars, older than the earth, even older than the sea. The sun was young in those days and there was not an imperfection to be found anywhere.”
A hint of longing colored every word that came from the Loner God's mouth. The story utterly contradicted the creation story that Malock had been told, however, which said humans were created first and gods second, but somehow he didn't think the Loner God would appreciate hearing that version very much.
“Then the Powers created you mortals,” said the Loner God, his tone turning to annoyance. “Humans and aquarians. Smarter than animals, but not quite as powerful as we gods. We were told you mortals served a special purpose in the world, but to be frank, the Powers never told us what that purpose was. I imagine they thought that would be enough to keep us from actively trying to kill you all.”
Malock, too, wondered what that 'special purpose' might be. He gave it little thought, though, because he was too busy trying to come up with a way to get out of this situation alive.
“So the Powers left the world, putting us in charge of it,” the Loner God said. “We gods quickly became divided over the matter of you mortals. Half of us wanted you to worship us, to shower us with adoration and respect, to build temples in our honor and to sing hymns in our name. The other half saw you as little more than cattle and rather tasty cattle at that. Guess which group I was a part of.”
Malock knew, but did not say.
“Those of us who saw you mortals as food came up with the sport of mortal-hunting,” said the Loner God. “Several of us gods would get together and hunt down mortals. They were not much of a challenge, mostly because you mortals are weak and slow, but my, oh, my, were they fun. The dumb mortals were especially fun to hunt because they tried to fight us and always failed spectacularly.”
He spoke of the sport the way Malock's father had always spoken of drafna-hunting, like humans and aquarians were mere animals or something.
“But you see, the mortal-lovers didn't like that,” said the Loner God. “Didn't like that one bit. They argued and debated with us about the ethics of it, often sabotaged our hunts, took certain tribes or races of mortals under their protection, and occasionally even traded blows with us over it. But nothing serious came of it until dearest sister Mica, then the Goddess of Earth, slew the Ink God when he tried to hunt some of her followers.”
Malock had to interrupt here. “But gods can't be killed. That's impossible.”
“Impossible for you mortals, maybe, but
we gods are certainly capable of taking each other's lives,” said the Loner God. “Anyway, that was the last straw for both sides. The mortal-lovers were angry that the Ink God had tried to kill mortals under their protection, while we mortal-hunters were angry that Mica had killed one of our own and taken his domain under hers. This started a terrible war between us, the first and only war between the gods.”
“War?” said Malock. “It couldn't have been that bad, could it?”
“Oh, it was terrible,” said the Loner God. “Think of the absolute worst war you mortals have ever fought among yourselves. Then imagine the sea at war with the sky, the clouds at war with the trees, love at war with hate, countless mortal and godly lives dying wherever battles are fought, and you will get a dim idea of what the Godly War was like.”
The Loner God spoke of the War as if it had happened yesterday. And he didn't sound happy about it, either, as if he regretted partaking in it. Or maybe he was sad about not winning.
“I imagine the War would have destroyed the entire world if the Powers had not stepped in and forced us all to stand down,” said the Loner God. “They were quite angry ... or at least, as angry as they can ever be. It is hard to tell with them sometimes.”
Malock breathed in sharply. “You mean ... you've met the Powers?”
“Of course I have,” said the Loner God. “But that's not important. When they stopped us, they forced us to clean up the mess we'd made. Couldn't get us to reconcile, though, because the wounds were just too deep. So they came up with the Treaty.”
“The Treaty?”
“Yes, the Treaty,” said the Loner God. “The Treaty forbid any and all warfare among the gods. Doesn't mean we gods always get along. It's just that we can't declare war on each other anymore, even if we wanted to. That was the very first clause on the Treaty, which I think is a bit extreme, but I suppose the Powers had their reasons for doing what they did.”
The Mad Voyage of Prince Malock Page 8
