The Mad Voyage of Prince Malock (29 page)

“Now my subjects,” said the giant baba raga, its
voice difficult to understand due to its snorts and grunts, “wreak
vengeance on these pathetic mortals who dared to harm my people.
For I, the Tusked God, the God of Baba Ragas, demand it.”

-

The gigantic ice walls radiated so much cold air
that it was almost impossible to draw near to the walls. Malock and
his party had to stay a certain distance away from the walls to
prevent being frozen, which meant they couldn't investigate as
closely as they would have liked.

As far as Malock could tell, the ice walls had no
entrances or exits. They were completely solid, covered in a light
layer of snow that made them look completely white. He considered
the possibility that there could be an entrance on the other side;
however, the walls were too wide for him and his crew to walk
around without wasting a lot of time in the cold snow. Besides, he
strongly suspected that the walls had no openings at all, not even
a roughly carved one, which meant that he and the others were going
to need to figure out how to make their own way in.

“I wish Bifor were here,” said Jenur, after the
hunters spent the last half hour unsuccessfully trying to look for
an entrance to let them in. “He could just use his magic, I bet,
and make an opening for us.”

“I doubt even a pagomancer could make a hole in this
thing,” said Kocas, shaking her head. “Look at it. It's gotta be at
least a dozen feet thick, maybe two dozen. I bet Bifor would just
get himself frozen.”

“Be that as it may, we cannot give up,” said Malock.
“Not until we get our answers.”

Another half hour of attempts to find a door failed.
So the party regrouped near the spot they had started at and began
thinking again.

“Hey,” said Aseth. “What if that stone is the
key?”

“Key?” said Jenur, glancing at the walls. “I don't
see any keyholes.”

“Not a literal key,” said Aseth. “But like, maybe it
has a secret that will help us get inside.”

Malock fished the stone out of his pocket and turned
it over a couple of times. “What kind of secret, exactly?”

“I don't know,” said Aseth. “We're all out of ideas
and I am sure that that assassin from earlier must have had a good
reason for carrying that around. Maybe it's a signal to let someone
on the other side know he's a friend or something.”

“It's the best idea I've heard all day,” said
Malock. “Guess it wouldn't hurt to try. Let's see what we can
do.”

Malock walked as close to the ice walls as he could
without getting frozen, which was difficult to do because he did
not know the exact distance to stand. When he saw frost forming
around the edges of his jacket, however, that's when he knew he had
reached it.

The red stone continued to burn warmly in his hand.
Not knowing what else to do, Malock raised the stone until he was
pointing it directly at the walls. He didn't expect anything to
happen at first and indeed for a moment the stone just sat in his
gloved hand, which was beginning to frost over due to the cold
emitted from the walls.

Then the stone flew out of his hand, like it had
been yanked out by a powerful sucking force, and slammed into the
ice walls. As soon as it did, its temperature must have rose
because it immediately began melting a large hole in the walls, a
hole big enough for Malock and the other hunters to walk
through.

In just a few seconds, the stone had melted through
the walls completely, creating a tunnel that led to the other side.
The stone itself hung in midair, as though suspended by an
invisible string, its heat radiating so powerfully that Malock
could feel it even from where he stood.

“Damn,” said Jenur. “Guess it worked after all.”

Malock turned to the others and gestured at the
tunnel. “Well? What are you waiting for? I doubt this tunnel will
remain open forever. Follow me.”

-

Kinker wasn't much of a fighter. True, in his youth,
he had participated in the wrestling tournaments held in the
courtyard of the Temple at the end of every spring and had even
done pretty well in them, but when he got older he put more and
more of his attention on fishing, a task which was far less
physically-demanding than wrestling.

As a result, Kinker became less and less fit over
the years. Joining the crew of the
Iron Wind
forced him to
be more physically active than usual, true, but the lack of good
food and water had taken a toll on his body, which he soon learned
when he found himself cornered by one of the baba raga that was
currently attacking the ship.

When the Tusked God ordered its minions to attack,
Kinker had immediately tried to flee to the lower decks. It was
less due to Kinker's cowardice and more to do with trying to get a
weapon—a gun, a sword, heck, even a kitchen knife—that he could use
to defend himself.

Unfortunately, one of the baba raga, a particularly
fat one with a scar across its forehead, jumped on top of the
hatch, keeping him from getting inside. It growled at him, the
sound intimidating enough to make Kinker back off.

Kinker looked around at the rest of the crew.
Despite the immense size difference between the crew and the baba
raga (a hundred sailors versus a little less than twenty-five
beasts), the crew was clearly not winning. Already Kinker spied a
few dead sailors (although he couldn't tell who they were), but the
vast majority, thankfully enough, were simply wounded in many
places. Only one baba raga lay dead on the deck, its skull cracked,
but the rest of its brothers were fighting ferociously, even when
they got smacked in the face by chunks of wood that a few sailors
had picked up as improvised weapons.

Kinker returned his attention to the baba raga. It
had not yet moved from the hatch, which meant that this one was
simply trying to keep him away. Kinker took a step forward, but as
soon as he did, the baba raga's tongue shot out and wrapped around
his wrist. Its tongue burned like fire, causing Kinker to cry out
and stagger backwards, but the baba raga held on tight to his
wrist, looking quite pleased at his pain.

He tried to grab and squeeze the tongue with his
other hand, but he could not get a firm grip on it and every time
he touched it, the palm of his hand burned. When he glanced at his
free hand, it was covered in sores and burn marks, like he'd stuck
it on top of a burning stove top.

“Let go of me, you dumb beast,” Kinker growled, his
voice lost in the commotion all around him. “Let go, damn it.”

The baba raga simply looked at him triumphantly,
like it was thinking,
I enjoy your suffering, human. Why would I
ever let go?

Its smug look immediately disappeared, however, when
Banika appeared out of nowhere and slashed at its exposed tongue
with her knife. The knife cut through the tongue cleanly, causing
blood to pour out as the rest of the tongue retreated back into the
baba raga's mouth. Kinker immediately shook off the bit of it that
had been wrapped around his wrist and grimaced at the bruises and
burns on his wrist.

Then he looked up and saw the baba raga staggering
off the hatch. It hacked and coughed loudly, trying to breathe with
only half its tongue, and then Banika kicked it over and drove her
knife directly into its eyes. The baba raga screeched in terror and
then stopped immediately, making it the second baba raga to die so
far.

Banika pulled her knife out of the baba raga's eye
sockets as Kinker ran up to her and said, “Thanks for saving me. I
thought I was a—”

Banika immediately pushed Kinker to the side, making
him fall to the deck. The next moment, a baba raga barreled
through, almost crushing his legs. Kinker recovered from the fall
quickly and looked up in time to see Banika in battle with the
other baba raga, its tongue lashing out at her while she expertly
dodged or blocked it with her knife.

Then Kinker looked toward the hatch, which was now
entirely unguarded. He got to his feet and immediately climbed down
into the hatch, hoping against hope that he would be able to get to
the harpooning tools that he knew were down there, even though he
was starting to doubt they would be of any practical use.

***

W
hen Malock emerged from the tunnel into the
interior of the ice walls, he was not sure what he had been
expecting to see. Perhaps he had been expecting to see an icy
forest, similar to the one outside the walls, or at least scattered
trees dotting here and there. He supposed he had been expecting to
see some hills (though why, he couldn't tell) and maybe a small,
cozy house that the assassin would have called home. At worst, he
expected to see a whole group of assassins, just heading out to
find out what was taking their deceased friend so long to
return.

What Malock found instead, however, was a wide-open,
snowy field, with streams crisscrossing here and there, streams of
cool clear water that sparkled in the sun. Trout danced in the
water, which seemed to be coming from underground springs, as there
were no mountains for the stream water to be coming down from.

Scattered across the snowy field were a couple dozen
small wooden huts. It was difficult to judge their exact size from
where Malock stood, but if he had to guess, he'd say that they were
big enough for a small family of two parents and a young child.
They had a very simple, bland design and all looked exactly the
same, like the boots that came off the factory conveyor lines back
on Carnag. A cobblestone road connected the houses to one another,
occasionally going over small bridges that stood over the
streams.

In the center of it all was a large, imposing
palace. Its turrets—about four or five, by the look of it—were
stunted and blunt at the ends, with no spires at the top at all.
The outer walls appeared to be made of an ugly black metal, while
the palace itself was made of an old gray metal that reminded
Malock of the color of his grandfather's skin in his last days. The
palace appeared to have been designed purely for practical
purposes, rather than aesthetic, as though the palace's occupant
cared more about practicality than looks.

Jenur stood by his side, taking in the entire
scenery like she couldn't believe her eyes. “Huh. An entire
village, complete with castle, protected by gigantic ice walls, on
an island that is supposedly uninhabited. I can't be the only one
who sees something wrong with this picture.”

“You're not,” said Kocas, cocking her gun. “We
should be cautious.”

“I wonder if anyone lives in those huts,” said
Malock, looking down at them curiously. “I don't hear any noises.
Perhaps the people are all asleep.”

“Sir, if I may suggest something,” said Aseth, who
was actually sweating in the cold, “could we go back to the ship? I
have a very bad feeling about this and we really should have given
Okina a proper burial or at least a better burial than covering him
with snow, at any rate.”

Malock shook his head. “Sorry, Aseth, but we didn't
come this far just to turn back. I came in order to find out who
sent that assassin and who lives here. And now that I've actually
seen the place, I have even more questions I would like
answered.”

Jenur looked at the cobblestone road they stood
upon. “Think they're booby-trapped?”

“I doubt it,” said Malock. He gestured at the scene
and said, “Look at all of these peaceful huts. They probably never
expected anyone to get past the ice walls, which means they
probably aren't very good fighters. I imagine we could take the
whole place ourselves, if we wanted to.”

“Conquest isn't our goal, though, is it?” said
Aseth, scratching the back of his neck nervously. “We're just here
to get info, right?”

“Of course,” said Malock. “And who knows, maybe the
people who live here will be willing to give us food and furs that
we could take back to the ship.”

“If they're as friendly as that guy from earlier, I
can't imagine anything going wrong here,” said Jenur. “Lead the
way, Captain.”

Malock walked down the cobblestone road, his hand on
the hilt of his sword. The others followed, but even though none of
them spoke, Malock could feel their unease and worry. He understood
it, but once again saw no reason to pay heed to it. Besides, the
ice wall had already sealed the tunnel back up and the stone with
it, so they had no choice but to go forward now and hope for the
best.

They reached the first hut quickly. The windows were
closed and covered with brown curtains that were too thick to see
through. Because there was no one outside, Malock decided he would
simply knock on the door and see if anyone would answer.

He walked up to the door and knocked on it a few
times.

No one answered.

Malock sighed and knocked again, this time more
insistently.

Once again, no one answered.

He looked for a knocker or doorbell of some sort,
but as far as he could tell, outside of knocking, there was no way
you could let the hut's inhabitants know you were there.

“No one's home,” said Malock with a sigh, turning to
face his men. “We might as well go onto the palace. We'll probably
find people there.”

“Hold on,” said Jenur, striding forward. “You didn't
knock very loudly, you know. Let me try.”

Jenur pushed Malock out of the way (much to his
displeasure) and then knocked rapidly and loudly on the solid wood
door three times. She stepped back and waited a moment while Malock
said, “That didn't work at—”

Then the door swung open, revealing the strangest
little being standing in the doorway that Malock had seen so far
(although not as strange as the Loner God, perhaps)).

The being was as small as a child, perhaps just a
few inches taller, with metallic skin that covered its body
completely. It wore no clothes and had no genitals, which perhaps
was why it didn't wear any clothes. It looked up at them with
emotionless orange eyes, one hand grasping the doorknob, like it
was ready to slam the door shut on them at any moment.