The Mad Voyage of Prince Malock

by Timothy L. Cerepaka

  Malock found out that Vashnas was not among the nine aquarians who died in the assault (thankfully). Nonetheless, her limp was far more pronounced now and she shook when he hugged her. Still, she was alive and that was what mattered to Malock, who kept her in his stateroom to heal up.

  As for the ship itself, it looked ready to fall apart at the slightest touch. Aside from the obvious missing mainmast and port, the foremast and mainmast had also taken significant damage. The deck had holes punched in it and several of the stays had been cut. The foremast's sail had even been cut down entirely, which had apparently crushed a sailor who had been unlucky enough to be standing below it at the time.

  The enemy, according to Banika, lost maybe a dozen, possibly less. That seemed like a lot, until Banika informed Malock that the baba raga had numbered three or four dozen, meaning it wasn't quite as much as it could have been. Yet even that was not the best news because the dozen dead baba raga were credited with at least half of the crew deaths and more than half of the crew's injuries.

  It was after this that Malock realized he needed to tell the crew about the true nature of the southern gods. He gathered those who were not dead and told them all that the Loner God had told him about the northern/southern divide, but most of the sailors did not appear to be paying attention or to care and those that did looked bitter, like they were wondering why Malock had failed to tell them this in the first place. When Malock thought about it, he realized that telling them this really didn't help them in any way. All it did was encourage a few sailors to toss their amulets overside, amulets that they had devoted to their gods, and among those few sailors, more than a few swore never to serve any god ever again.

  From what Malock saw of the ship's damage, he did not think that they could repair the ship. Before the Tusked God's attack, they had already struggled to make basic repairs. With the mainmast at the bottom of the sea, the port in the Tusked God's stomach, and the rest of the ship in little better shape, Malock was convinced that there was absolutely nothing they could do to repair the Iron Wind. He was surprised it had not already fallen apart.

  True, Stalf did have a lot of wood, but they did not have the tools necessary to chop down those trees or turn them into wood suitable for sailing. Even if they could chop down the trees, they had no way to haul the wood to the ship itself because almost the entire crew was in no shape to be doing intense physical labor of any sort.

  For the first time on this voyage, Malock had to admit that they were defeated. He fully expected the Lightning Goddess, the Leaf Goddess, and the Cloud God to appear and finish them all off. He saw no reason for them not to; after all, the crew was in no position to fight back and even if they were there was no way they could defeat three gods. So when he awoke the next morning, he was surprised to find that none of those gods had attacked.

  Another first for Malock was his taking a real part in the recovery efforts. Ranof and Bifor used their knowledge of medicine and magic to heal as many of the men as they could, but the two of them by themselves were incapable of making sure every sailor got the aid he or she needed. So Malock volunteered to help and put himself under Ranof's authority, doing whatever the doctor ordered him to.

  That was how Malock found himself, not long after lunchtime on the first day after the Tusked God's attack, changing the dressings on an aquarian sailor named Vank. Vank had a squid-like head and had lost an entire arm to a particularly violent baba raga during the battle. His 'dressings'— really just a bunch of old dirty rags tied around his stump—needed to be changed every few hours, which wasn't a very fun task because every time Malock changed them, he got a good look at Vank's dried up stump, and its smell and appearance made his stomach lurch.

  They were in the middle deck, in the hallway. The other rooms were full of resting wounded sailors, so more than a few were forced to rest in the hallway. The wounded had been moved below deck to keep them out of the snow that had started falling. Even then, though, it wasn't perfect. The big gaping hole, where the port had been, allowed the icy wind to blow through freely, even after they closed the door to the cannon room.

  At that moment, a particularly strong gust of wind passed through the cracks in the door, making Malock shiver. That was nothing in comparison to Vank, who shivered so violently that he looked like he was about to die.

  “Here,” said Malock as he took off his coat and put it over Vank, like a blanket. “You need this far more than I do.”

  “Thank you, Captain,” said Vank, whose voice was strained. He coughed up some blood on Malock's coat (which Malock didn't mind at all) and said, “Sir? Can I tell you something?”

  Malock was just about to get up, as he had other patients to attend to, but he stopped before he could do so. “What is it, Vank? I'm all ears.”

  Vank looked extremely embarrassed, ashamed even, but he said, “Sir, I no longer ... I don't care about the gods anymore.”

  Malock blinked. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean I don't worship any, don't pay homage to any, don't care about 'em at all anymore,” said Vank. “I used to be a follower of Yaona, the Goddess of Music, because back home I was something of a musician and most musicians worship her. Now, though ... she can take that guitar of hers and shove it straight up her ass.”

  Malock bit his lower lip. “Why are you showing such disdain to the gods?”

  “Sir, it's because of what's happened recently,” said Vank, looking at Malock with a steely gaze. “A god tried to kill us and another three gods tried to kill you and Jenur. And then there's this whole northern/southern crap and I'm convinced that the gods are no longer worth worshiping at all. They're just like us mortals, except worse.”

  Malock had to admit that Vank had a point, but he said in a voice he no longer believed, “Not all of the gods are bad, Vank. Kano is good.”

  Vank snorted. “If Kano is so good, why has she not saved us? Why did she stand aside as the Tusked God ravaged our ship and killed or wounded our men? She is no better than any of the others. That is what I believe, sir, and if you think that makes me deserving of punishment or whatever, I'll take whatever you choose to do to me.”

  Under ordinary circumstances, Malock would have punished Vank. He did not tolerate heathens, those who refused to give the gods the honor and respect they deserved. Heathenism was a crime on Carnag and most of the Northern Isles and it was a crime that he was always happy to see punished, as it was on his top ten list of worst crimes anyone can commit, right below murder and just above rape.

  Yet Malock felt no rage at Vank's words. He felt nothing at all. All he did was nod and say, “I'm not going to punish you, Vank. After what we've all been through, punishment is the last thing we need.”

  Vank let out a long sigh of relief. “That's good. I thought you were actually going to punish me there for a moment.”

  “Just rest here,” said Malock. “Don't move too much and try to drink as much water as you can. If your stump itches, don't scratch it because it should go away in a few hours.”

  Vank nodded as someone behind Malock said, “You're starting to sound more like a doctor than a captain now, Malock.”

  Malock turned around and saw that it was Kinker. Kinker was one of the few sailors to have avoided taking any life-threatening wounds, but he had not been helping in the recovery period because his back hurt him too badly for him to help.

  Yet Kinker now stood before him, leaning on a chunk of wood like a walking stick, looking quite serious.

  “Hello, Kinker,” said Malock. “Is your back feeling better now?”

  Kinker grunted and rubbed his back with his free hand. “Hardly. If anything, I'd say it's gotten worse. I just wanted to talk with you in private for a moment. Would that be fine?”

  Malock rubbed his elbow. “I still have some patients to get to—”

  “So?” said Kinker. “Not to be cruel, but there is little you can do for the majority of them. I have a feeling we'll be seeing more deaths in the coming days
. Have you seen Bifor and Ranof? They both look like they're about to drop dead from exhaustion themselves.”

  “All right,” said Malock. “I'll talk. Just for a few minutes, though.”

  “A few minutes is all I'll need of your time,” said Kinker. “To make this private, how's about we go talk top deck?”

  “All right,” said Malock. “Lead the way.”

  It took them very little time to reach the top deck. Kinker walked over to the stump that was all that was left of the mainmast and sat stood beside it. There was no one else top deck besides them. It was snowing lightly, making Malock shiver. Off the port, the island of Stalf was still visible.

  “All right,” said Malock, hugging himself to keep warm. “We're here. What do you want to talk about?”

  Kinker's eyes were looking out to the sea, like he was completely lost in the ocean's waves. “Everything.”

  Malock quirked an eyebrow. “That's a wide subject.”

  “I mean everything that has happened so far,” said Kinker with a frustrated sigh. “Malock, I know you are young, but I didn't think you were dense.”

  “Excuse me, elder, for not knowing what you meant when you only spoke one word,” said Malock. “Perhaps you're going senile in your old age. My grandfather started losing his mind when he got to your age, Kinker. I suspect the same may be happening to you.”

  Kinker raised his makeshift walking stick like he was going to pound Malock with it, but he let it down and said, “Fighting will do us no good. The only thing that will help us in this situation is to talk.”

  “About what?” said Malock. “Everything?”

  “The voyage,” said Kinker. “I am not the only member of the crew who suspects that this entire voyage is a fool's errand. Quite a few sailors just want to go home.”

  “But we can't,” Malock said. “I've made that clear already. Besides the simple fact that I want to keep going, there is the fact that the ship is in no condition to be sailing and the sailors are in no condition to take it back north.”

  “Your naivety is so interesting, Malock,” said Kinker, shaking his head. “Do you think that the crew really cares about any of that? They just want to go home and not have to deal with crazy gods and pirates and spies and other things like that. I agree with them and I don't even want to go back to Destan.”

  Malock's hands balled into fists, but he tried to keep his voice as level as he could. “Do you think I just woke up one day and decided I wanted to go on this voyage? That I wanted to explore the most dangerous, unexplored seas in the world for fun? I went on this voyage only because Kano summoned me. And you do not ignore the calls of a goddess, no matter how much you want to.”

  Kinker pursed his lips. “Then maybe that's the problem. Maybe you should have told Kano, 'Thanks, but no thanks.' Maybe people wouldn't have needed to die if you had shown more spine.”

  “Shown more spine?” Malock repeated in horror. “Kinker, I never thought I'd hear you say such a thing. Where I grew up, elders are the most pious, religious, and faithful of all. They regularly attend services, pray to the gods, and will answer their summons even in their old age. My own grandfather actually met Grinf once.”

  “Not everyone everywhere is like your elders,” said Kinker. “I still follow Kano and yet ... as this voyage continues, I am starting to doubt that you were ever contacted by her at all. Perhaps you simply dreamed of Kano and mistook your dream of her for the real thing.”

  Malock walked up to Kinker, closing the distance between their faces to only a few inches. “You. Don't. Understand. Kano did contact me. I know it was her. It wasn't just a simple dream. It was an actual summons from the Goddess of the Sea herself.”

  Kinker leaned back, looking disgusted, and said, “Yet you offer no proof of that claim. The other sailors have noticed this complete lack of proof and it has done nothing to quell the mutiny that is boiling under your very nose.”

  Malock pulled back and turned away. “A mutiny certainly would be the most intelligent thing to do in this situation. After all, we all know the real reason we can't go anywhere is because I'm the problem. Not, you know, the fact that the ship is irreparably damaged or anything.”

  “All I'm saying is that you should address their concerns,” said Kinker. “If you truly believe that this voyage is not pointless, that we will succeed, then show us why.”

  “Because ...” Malock struggled to think of a reason. “Because I don't think Kano would have summoned me if she didn't think I could make it.”

  Kinker let out a noise of disgust. “That is still not good enough. People have died on this voyage, Malock. Not just the ones we lost yesterday or even a few weeks ago back on Ikadori Island. I'm talking about the other ships, the ones that were part of the fleet. How many people were there per ship? I'm guessing a few hundred each. That's nearly a thousand lives lost because what, you thought a goddess summoned you?”

  Malock turned back around to face Kinker. He could feel his face turning red, but there was nothing he could do to hide it. “Their deaths are regrettable, but that's what happens on these kinds of voyages and they all knew that going into it. I'm not responsible for whatever happened to them.”

  “You are the Captain of this ship,” said Kinker, pointing at him with his stick. “The Captain is responsible for the wellbeing of every member of his crew. If you don't like that, then maybe you should step down from your position as Captain and give it to someone who actually gives a damn.”

  “Don't talk to me that way,” said Malock. “I'm still your Captain; more than that, I am your prince.”

  Kinker laughed. “My prince? I am from Destan, not Carnag. You seem to have forgotten that your giant boot factory of an island isn't the entire world.”

  “Giant boot factory?” said Malock. “That is such a simple insult that I would be laughing at it right now if I wasn't so pissed off at you.”

  Kinker sighed. “Look, Malock, I am trying to help you. I am trying to make you aware of these problems. We have almost no edible food or drinkable water, the ship is basically a big floating piece of wood, we've lost so many sailors now that it doesn't even hurt anymore, and the rest of the crew is too injured to perform even the most basic of repairs on the ship. That's why I speak harshly and bluntly.”

  Malock didn't know what to do or say. All of those challenges Kinker mentioned were all very real and very true. He could not think of any way to fix them, no way to convince Kinker (or anyone else) that it was all going to work out in the end because as far as he could tell, it was not.

  “Oh, and did I forget to mention that more and more sailors are starting to hate the gods?” Kinker said. “And not without reason, mind you. Those southern gods are absolutely vicious. And the northern gods have a mixed track record of being reliable and unreliable in equal measures. What say you to that?

  Malock put his head in his hands, not wanting Kinker to see his face. “I ... I don't know what to say to that.”

  Kinker's shoulder slumped. “And neither do I. None of us do. Perhaps none of us ever will.”

  -

  Later that day, yet another collective funeral was held for the sailors who had died in the attack. As usual, they were dumped into the ocean. There was no eulogy given, mostly because the rest of the sailors were too wounded, tired, and defeated to think of any inspiring words to say. A few more precious amulets devoted to the gods went overside with the corpses, though Malock did not know who put them there.

  Not only that, but they lost three more sailors to infection and cold shortly after the funeral. One of them would have been Arisha Frag, their cook, but luckily Bifor managed to cast a healing spell on her that kept her from dying. If they'd lost their cook, Malock was certain they would really be screwed.

  Malock spent most of his free time looking at Stalf and the giant ice walls that protected the Mechanical Goddess. He kept wondering when those other gods were going to reappear, knowing as he did that they loved to eat humans. He didn't th
ink that any of his men looked particularly tasty, but he doubted that those gods cared about that. He doubted they care about anything except filling their stomachs with mortal flesh and blood.

  One thought that did stray across Malock's mind every now and then was Vashnas. Because he had volunteered to help take care of the sick and wounded sailors, he didn't get to see her nearly as much as he would have liked. She was recovering in his stateroom, which had somehow evaded destruction during the battle, and unlike the others didn't suffer from any terrible injuries, so Malock had little reason to spend much time with her.

  But he did think about her. So far, her information about the southern seas had been spotty at best. Yes, Ikadori Island and Stalf did indeed exist and they were how she had described them, yet her information was clearly incomplete because she didn't know anything about the Loner God or the Mechanical Goddess or the automatons or anything. He didn't want to, but he was becoming more and more forced to conclude that Vashnas may have an agenda of her own, one that ran counter to his, but for the life of him he could not figure out what that agenda was.

  He had no one to discuss these ideas with because he had always publicly displayed his support for Vashnas. The rest of the crew didn't like her as much as he did and if he tried to talk with any of them about it, it might somehow get to Vashnas's ears and that would get him into trouble. He couldn't even talk to Banika about it, mostly because of paranoia.

  The sun set and the ship got even colder. Malock cuddled with Vashnas in his stateroom, but he remained all too aware of the moaning sailors, some of whom he allowed to stay in his stateroom until they were better. He wished there was something he could do to help, but for now he was utterly powerless.