The Mad Voyage of Prince Malock (33 page)

“Not good,” Kinker said. “But he won't be that way
for long. Help me up. We need to get to the cannons. Now.”

Deddio looked at Kinker in confusion. “The cannons?
What do you intend to do, blow the ship sky high?”

“No,” said Kinker through gritted teeth. “Do you
know how to work the cannons?”

“Sure,” said Deddio. “It's what I was originally
trained to do, in fact. Do you need my help?”

“Yes,” said Kinker. “Because we're gonna blow that
god straight to the bottom of the sea.”

Deddio's face became even paler than before. “You're
saying we should fire a cannon at a god.”

“Preferably multiple, but yes,” said Kinker. “It's
the only way we can get him off our asses. You in or not?”

Deddio put his knuckle against his lips, as he
always did whenever he was uncertain about something. “I don't
know. That sounds awfully risky. What if it doesn't work?”

“Do you have any better ideas?” Kinker snapped, not
even bothering to put up a pretense of civility anymore. “If we do
nothing, he'll smash the ship into splinters and kill everyone on
it. At least this has a chance of helping us survive, even if the
odds are low.”

“Fine,” said Deddio, holding up his hands in defeat.
“You're absolutely right. I don't know have any better ideas and
honestly that sounds a hell of a lot better than getting mauled by
a baba raga.”

“Good man,” said Kinker. “Now help me. Carefully,
now, because my back hurts.”

Deddio was by Kinker's side in an instant. He draped
one of Kinker's arms around his shoulders and hefted the fisherman
to his feet. Kinker let out a loud groan of pain, causing Deddio to
say, “Kinker, you all right?”

“Doesn't matter,” Kinker said. “We need to get to
the cannon room as quickly as possible. No delays.”

Fortunately, Deddio was a good listener. And despite
being badly wounded himself, Deddio managed to keep them both
upright, though their progress was inevitably slow thanks to
Kinker's almost complete inability to stand on his own. Kinker
tried his best to help, but he was so weak and tired and in pain
from his climbing up and down the ladders that he could not do much
except try to be less heavy.

The two fishermen made their way down the hall,
Kinker's feet half-dragging across the floor. The sounds of battle
coming from above were barely muffled by the boards above them. A
small drop of blood fell on Kinker's head as they walked, but
whether it was the blood of a friend or foe, he could not tell. He
just hoped that his plan would work, that the cannons were still in
one piece.

And, as it turned out, they were. They came upon the
cannon room, which thankfully turned out to have not been
destroyed. Unfortunately, the cannon windows were closed, probably
due to how rarely the cannons were used, and the cannons
themselves—about a dozen in all—were lined up against the opposite
wall, with barrels of gunpowder and boxes of cannonballs stacked
nearby. One box of cannonballs had fallen over, but the vast
majority of them somehow seemed to have remained steady despite the
relentless attacks by the Tusked God's followers.

Deddio let Kinker down near the door and said, “You
stay here while I prepare a cannon.”

“Can't you prepare multiple?” Kinker asked.

Deddio shook his head. “Not without ten other men.
It will probably take me several minutes just to prepare one.”

Kinker cursed. “Just do it as quickly as you can,
then. Is there anything I can do in the meantime?”

Deddio pulled out the top drawer of a nearby chest
of drawers and thrust it into Kinker's lap. “Look for the matches.
We're going to need them if we're going to blow that damn god to
hell.”

Kinker nodded as he frantically searched through the
drawer. It seemed like everything in the ship was in this drawer,
from a piece of paper that appeared to be part of a map to a
handful of gunpowder that got up his nose and made him sneeze.
There was a little bit of everything except, it seemed, the matches
themselves.

Nearby, Deddio had already filled one of the cannons
with gunpowder. Now he was trying his best to move one of the
cannonballs from the ones on the floor to the cannon itself, but
they were clearly too heavy for him. He heaved and struggled, but
he could only do it one-armed due to how wounded his other arm was.
Kinker wanted to help, would have helped, but he doubted his back
would have agreed to it.

Somehow, Deddio succeeded in lifting one of the
cannonballs—which probably only weighed about eight pounds, by the
look of it—and shoved it into the cannon's barrel. A loud clunk
told Kinker that the cannonball was now sitting securely within the
cannon; just in time, too, because Kinker found a small bland
cardboard box with the word 'MATCHES' written on it.

“I found the matches,” said Kinker, holding up the
box. “Take it!”

Deddio ran over and took the box of matches from
Kinker's hand. Unfortunately, Kinker had been gripping the box too
tightly because it ripped apart and matches went everywhere,
causing Deddio to drop to his hands and knees and start collecting
as many of the little bastards as he could.

“You don't need them all, do you?” said Kinker in
annoyance. “Just grab one and light the damn thing already.”

Deddio had about four in his hands, but when he
heard Kinker's order, he got unsteadily to his feet and ran back to
the cannon. He got behind it and started to push it across the the
floor, but the cannon was clearly too heavy for him to move on his
own. He got maybe an inch before collapsing, panting hard and
groaning as his arm continued to bleed.

“No use,” Deddio gasped. “Can't do it. Can't push
it.”

“Yes, you can,” said Kinker, feeling his temper
rising. “Just do it, man. If you don't, then you can say good bye
to ever seeing the Northern Isles again.”

That little pep talk didn't seem to do Deddio much
good. He just lay there, looking utterly defeated.

Kinker opened his mouth to yell again, but he didn't
get a chance because an ominous creaking sound caused him to look
at the wall where the cannon was supposed to fire from. A second
later, the wall went flying off, letting in a blast of cold wind
and revealing the Tusked God, who had apparently ripped off that
part of the wall with his tongue.

The Tusked God pulled the chunk of wood into its
mouth and crunched on it loudly enough for the sound to rise above
the screams of people and the roars of baba raga, a sound which was
amplified now that there was nothing between it and Kinker.

Deddio stared in shock, but Kinker yelled at him,
“The match, Deddio, the match! Blow that motherfucker to hell!”

Deddio shook his head and immediately lit his match
on the back end of the cannon. He grabbed the cannon's fuse, but
before he could light it, the Tusked God's tongue shot out again
and wrapped around Deddio. Kinker barely had time to yell out
Deddio's name before the fisherman was yanked out of the room and
into the open maw of the Tusked God, where he disappeared in a
scream and flash of blood.

Kinker tried to scream, but he seemed to have lost
his voice because he couldn't hear himself scream. He just sat
there, with his mouth open, watching as the Tusked God munched
contentedly on Deddio's bones. The deity didn't seem to notice
Kinker, but that didn't make him feel better at all.

Deddio's dead,
Kinker thought.
The ship is
falling apart. Most of the crew is probably dead or about to die.
Malock and the others are probably dead, too, I imagine. This must
be how we all die.

Then Kinker felt a few pieces of wood nearby. He
wrapped his fingers around them and brought them up to his
face.

They were matches, some of the ones that Deddio had
failed to pick up. Kinker looked at the cannon and noticed how
close the fuse was to him. It was just out of his reach, but if he
crawled over to it ...

Kinker got on his hands and knees and crawled over
to the fuse as quickly as he could. Every moment he remained aware
of the Tusked God, expecting any second now to be noticed and
devoured just like Deddio. But he couldn't stop, not even with his
back hurting as badly as it was, not until he reached the fuse and
lit it.

Once he was close enough, he reached out with his
free hand and wrapped his fingers around the end of the fuse. Hands
trembling, Kinker tried to light the matches, but every time he
did, a strong gust of gelid wind would blow it out and he'd have to
try again. He went through three matches—far too many—before the
fourth one lit and stay lit.

Then he brought the match to the fuse's tip and it
caught fire. Kinker let out a hoarse whoop and looked up at the
Tusked God, who was now looking at him with hungry eyes.

So Kinker shook his fist at the Tusked God and said,
in a weak voice, “See you at the bottom of the sea, you son of a
bitch.”

The Tusked God opened its mouth, probably to snatch
him up just like Deddio, but it didn't get the chance. The fuse
reached the end and with an almighty
boom
a single
cannonball flew out of the cannon's barrel directly into the Tusked
God's gaping mouth.

The cannonball must have gone deep because the
Tusked God gagged and coughed. A moment later, flames and smoke
burst from the Tusked God's mouth, scorching its tongue and tusks.
The Tusked God howled in pain, thrashing about in the icy waters,
acting more like a wounded animal than a powerful god now.

Kinker figured that the Tusked God would kill them
all now, but much to his surprise, the Tusked God sank back beneath
the water instead. Its growls and moans of pain disappeared as it
vanished beneath the waves of Stalf Bay and not a minute later the
baba raga threw themselves over the side of the ship and into the
water below. Kinker watched them fall, hoping against hope that
they wouldn't notice him, but they seemed to be retreating now
because they didn't even stop, not even when one landed on the
floor in front of him. Soon they were all gone and the entire ship
was silent.

Until now, Kinker hadn't realized just how tired he
was. When he thought about this, his eyes drooped, his shoulders
slumped, and he immediately drifted off into unconsciousness,
unsure if he would ever awake again.

***

T
he three deities began to advance, eager to
eat. Malock was too shocked to come up with a plan. Behind him he
heard Aseth struggling to open the door, pounding at it, with Kocas
yelling at him to pound at it faster. Jenur just stood nearby,
perhaps having come to the same conclusion as Malock: that is,
there was no point in trying to run because there was no place they
could run to.

Then Malock got an idea. The same idea that he had
used to make the Loner God spare his life, actually. He figured it
would have to work; after all, these three gods were probably under
the same Treaty as the Loner God, which meant that all he needed to
do was announce his status as Kano's chosen and he'd be safe.

So Malock stepped forward, putting on his bravest
expression, folded his arms over his chest, and said, “Halt,
southern deities. I am Prince Malock, the Chosen One of Kano. You
cannot harm me, as per the Treaty.”

That actually worked. The three deities ceased
moving and, although they all lacked eyeballs, Malock thought they
were all looking at him now. Good.

“You can smell Kano on me, I'm sure,” said Malock.
“And you know that the Treaty prevents you from harming me, a
mortal who is under her protection. I suggest you three go home now
and get your dinner elsewhere. My crew is off-limits.”

His smile quickly fell off his face, however, when
the three deities scattered. The Leaf Goddess and the Cloud God
flew past him toward Kocas and Aseth, who had failed to open the
door and were now screaming their heads off. The Lightning Goddess
made a move toward Jenur, but that girl was faster than lightning
because she was now clinging to Malock like an octopus.

“Jenur?” said Malock, looking at her in surprise.
“What are you doing?”

“You're Kano's Chosen One, right?” said Jenur. “I
don't understand all this talk about this Treaty, but I do get that
these guys can't hurt you. So I figure that I'll be okay as long as
I stay close to you. Can't hurt me without hurting you.”

Malock was not sure that it worked like that, but
perhaps it did because the Lightning Goddess didn't try to attack
them. She flashed this way and that, moved forward and backed off,
but she didn't actually touch them. She succeeded in looking
intimidating, but not much else.

Figuring they were safe for now, Malock glanced over
his shoulder and felt his heart fail him again. The Cloud God and
the Leaf Goddess had made short work of Kocas and Aseth. The two
hunters didn't even have skin on their bones anymore. They just lay
against the door, their white bones splattered with blood, bits of
clothes hanging off their bones. The two deities were making
strange munching noises, even though they lacked mouths.

Then Malock looked back at the Lightning Goddess,
who was still thundering and flashing. Behind her, Hana was leaning
against the table, looking amused.

“I think we're at a stalemate here, Hana,” said
Malock, raising his voice to be heard over the sounds of the gods.
“I know your gods want Jenur, but I'm not going to give her up and
they aren't going to attack her without harming me. Your only
option now is to let us go.”

Hana shrugged. “You'll have to barter for your
freedom with them. They're reasonable deities. I'm sure they'll be
willing to let their dinner go free.”

Malock grit his teeth, but before he could respond,
the Cloud God and the Leaf Goddess appeared, circling the two
surviving hunters like hawks. The Lightning Goddess joined them,
but like before she did not attack. Still, Malock had a feeling
that eventually one of them would try something and he had a good
feeling it would be the Lightning Goddess, even though he did not
know her well enough to be sure about that.