The Mad Voyage of Prince Malock (11 page)

“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.”

Forbidding war between gods didn't seem 'a bit
extreme' to Malock, though he said aloud, “Is that all the Treaty
said?”

“Oh, the Treaty says a lot more than that,” said the
Loner God. “It divides us gods into northern and southern. My
northern siblings—who you know as Kano, Tinkar, Grinf, and all the
others—got the northern half of Martir, while we got the southern
half. You mortals are not restricted to any one area of the planet;
however, there is a reason why you mortals mostly live up north and
why the southern seas have so many dangerous myths surrounding
them.”

“So how many of those myths are true and how many
are false?” Malock asked.

The Loner God either didn't hear him or, more
likely, simply ignored him because he continued speaking. “We
southern gods are not allowed to hunt mortals in the north. Any
mortals that come south are fair game, but we are not allowed to
hunt you mortals beyond the Dividing Line, the area that denotes
where the north ends and where the south begins. I wish it were
different, as this clause has severely limited mortal-hunting, but
alas, it was written in stone by the Powers and therefore cannot be
disobeyed.”

That must be why the southern gods haven't killed
us all,
Malock thought, more than a little bit relieved.

“There is a lot more to the Treaty, but I believe
that that is all that is relevant to you and all that your puny
mortal mind can understand anyway,” said the Loner God. “That is
how things have stood for thousands of years. Very boring, wouldn't
you say?”

Malock could sense the Loner God was almost finished
telling his tale, so the prince said, “If you say so. But may I ask
why you southern gods like to hunt mortals? That doesn't seem right
to me.”

“Why do you mortals hunt animals less intelligent
than you?” said the Loner God. “It's fun. And it is the way of
nature. The powerful have the right to slaughter the weak. We are
the powerful and you are the weak. Even an idiotic mortal like
yourself should be able to grasp that simple concept. Plus, you
mortals are just so tasty.”

Malock gulped. “But the northern gods don't hunt us.
Clearly, it is not necessarily the way of nature.”

The Loner God laughed. “They still dominate you,
don't they? My northern siblings love to pontificate about their
greatness, but I know that they get as much of a thrill punishing
you fools for disobeying or disrespecting them as we southern gods
get whenever we're hunting you. You are nothing more than animals
in our eyes.”

“I ...” Malock struggled to think of a response but
could think of nothing. “Well, are you going to let me down
now?”

“Why would I ever do that?” said the Loner God.
“Weren't you listening? I know your language is awkward and clumsy,
but I thought I made it clear that I am going to eat you. Telling
you that story made me hungry again, so—”