The Mad Voyage of Prince Malock (30 page)

“Hello,” said Malock, recovering from the shock
before any of the others could. “My name is Prince Tojas Malock,
Crown Prince of Carnag, Captain of the—”

The little being immediately slammed the door shut
in his face.

“Guess he wasn't impressed by your list of titles,”
Jenur muttered.

Malock let out a frustrated growl, but instead of
getting angry, he knocked on the door like Jenur did, saying as he
did so, in a forced calm voice, “Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to
scare you. I was just trying to let you know who I am so you
could—”

The door swung open again, causing Malock to take a
step back. Not because of the door but because of the five or six
metallic-skinned beings that now stood there, aiming sharp-pointed
metal spears at Malock and the others. These other ones were much
taller than the first one, but they had the same glowing orange
eyes and similar humanoid structure.

Malock's men immediately raised their guns, but as
soon as they did, the little metallic being in the front waved its
hands and the barrels of their guns bent up at an odd angle. Jenur
immediately discarded her now-useless gun in favor of her knife,
but the little metallic being simply waved his hand and the knife
launched out of her hand into its. The hunters drew their swords,
but another wave of the small metallic being's hands and the blade
flew out of their hands and into the roof of the hut before
them.

“Okay,” said Malock, holding up his hands in a
nonthreatening manner. “You disarmed us. Not that that was
necessary, but you did it and now you know for sure we're not a
threat. If you could just point our way out of here, we'd really
appreciate it.”

The group of metallic-skinned beings marched out of
the hut, like an army unit, forcing Malock and the others to back
up. The beings formed a loose circle around the hunters and began
herding them down the path to the palace. None of the hunters tried
to fight back or argue, mostly because they were unarmed and the
metallic-skinned beings were not.

-

Climbing down the hatch ladder into the lower decks
was not as easy as it usually was. Kinker was in such a hurry that
he missed a step and went tumbling all the way down to the floor,
landing flat on his back and knocking his head on the steps as he
did so. It didn't help that the ship itself was shaking, probably
from the waves that the Tusked God was stirring up outside. His
wrist still burned, too, but the pain had died down enough to where
he could ignore it.

His back had taken the brunt of the fall and he felt
it. It was like his entire body had broken in half, even though he
thought his back was still in one piece. The smell of blood and
water and bodily fluids entered his nostrils, making it difficult
to concentrate long enough to figure out what he needed to do. All
he wanted to do was lie there for a while, let his back
recover.

But somewhere, deep inside himself, he felt a force
pushing him. True, he might not be able to defeat the Tusked God or
save his friends, but goddammit if he was going to go down without
a fight. If he could at least get to the hold, at least get to the
harpoon down there, he would be able to fight back, if nothing
else.

Kinker's hands reached out for anything to grab,
anything he could use to pull himself back to his feet. At first,
he succeeded in grabbing nothing, as there were no side railings on
the hallway's walls and he was still lying on his back, his arms
and legs weak from the fall. He just about gave up hope until his
right hand wrapped around the second to bottom step of the ladder,
which he firmly grabbed hold of.

Just sitting up was like climbing a mountain. His
back screamed in protest. All he wanted to do was lie down, maybe
curl into a ball, and never get back up ever again. He wanted to
wait until his back stopped acting up, but by the time that
happened, he had a feeling that the
Iron Wind
would be at
the bottom of the sea.

So Kinker somehow succeeded into sitting upright. It
felt like someone was running a knife down his back now, carving
out huge chunks of flesh, but he didn't give a damn about that. He
grabbed onto a higher step and began pulling himself up to his
feet.

In many ways, this was even worse than trying to sit
upright. Whereas sitting upright allowed him to rest his legs, here
he was asking his legs to support the rest of his body. This was a
difficult enough task when his back didn't feel like it had been
smashed into pieces like a fragile brick wall, but now it was
almost impossible. He realized he must have hurt his legs in the
fall, too, because his knees and ankles ached.

Nonetheless, Kinker succeeded in standing up. He
immediately leaned against the right bulkhead, his head spinning.
He attempted to take a step forward and almost managed it before
the ship suddenly tilted to port, causing him to slam against the
left bulkhead. That caused him to gasp in pain, but he didn't fall
down again.

Instead, he began making his way down the hall,
slowly but deliberately, toward the ladder that would take him to
the hold. He ignored the sounds of battle overhead, although once a
chunk of wood was knocked from its place in the ceiling above and
almost hit him on the head. It only grazed his shoulder, but he
didn't let that stop him. He just kept going.

Finally, Kinker reached the next ladder. He peered
down into the darkness of the lowest deck. He wished he had brought
along a candle or something. He needed to be able to see what was
down there if he was going to find the harpoon, but sadly it looked
like he was going to have to rely on his other senses to find what
he needed.

Bracing himself, Kinker climbed onto the ladder. His
back had not recovered since the fall and now it was worse than
ever, the pain so bad that he almost fell off the ladder before he
readjusted his grip on the rungs. He took this ladder easy, one
rung at a time, trying to maintain his balance even as the ship
unexpectedly lurched every now and then.

You should be back up there,
his mind told
him as he climbed down further.
Fighting like the rest of them.
What do you think Jenur would say if she saw you in this position,
running away like a coward?

Kinker ignored his mind. He knew it was just guilt,
good old guilt, playing tricks on him again. He had no time for
such nonsense, especially with his back hurting like hell and not
knowing what the current state of the battle outside was.

Just like on Destan,
Guilt said.
You were
too cowardly to tell the people about Deber's true colors. You
didn't want to be arrested or lead a revolution or do any of that.
How many young boys do you think Deber has killed since then? Five?
Ten? Maybe even fifteen? And how many do you think you could have
saved if you had stayed?

For the first time in his life, Kinker was quite
happy about his old back. It hurt so badly that he had a difficult
time paying attention to Guilt. Of course, the pain made it
difficult to grip the ladder's rungs, so it wasn't all good.

How many of your friends have died in this
assault so far, do you think?
Guilt asked.
I can't see
Deddio lasting very long. For that matter, what about Jenur and the
others on Stalf? Haven't heard from them in a few hours. Maybe the
Tusked God killed them first and then came after you, just to be
neat and tidy.

Kinker felt his foot finally touch the floor,
prompting him to let go of the ladder. It was still far too dark
down here for his taste, but having been down this far once before,
he knew that it was just a straight line from where he stood to
reach the door to the hold. So he began walking straight ahead,
once again using the wall for support.

It's too dark,
Guilt complained.
Dark and
cold. It's like an ice chamber down here.

For once, Guilt had a point. The narrow hallway that
lead to the hold was much colder than the top deck, even though
there was no ice. That was probably because the lower half of the
ship was submerged in the icy water around Stalf. Kinker tried to
draw his coat tighter around his body, but even that simple gesture
caused his back to flare with pain, forcing him to stop that.

Eventually, he reached the end of the hallway, where
he felt in the darkness for the door handle. He soon found it and,
with a grin, tried to turn it.

It was locked.

Well, that was a complete waste of time,
Guilt said.
I imagine Gino was probably the first to die. He was
so overcome with grief over Magnisa's death, that I doubt he even
saw it coming. And you could have saved him.

Kinker didn't have the keys on hand and couldn't go
to Banika to get them. He considered breaking the lock, but just
the thought of the physical exertion that would require made his
back tingle. That meant he would have to go back up and join the
fight, even though he was fairly certain that the battle was
lost.

Then an idea occurred to him. It was a crazy idea,
one he wasn't so sure would work, mostly because it involved using
the cannons, which were weapons that he had zero experience working
with. Nonetheless, he was desperate enough to try it, because as
far as he knew, the cannon room was always unlocked and there was
no one else in there at the moment.

So, turning around, Kinker made his way to the
ladder that would take him back to the middle deck. Guilt seemed to
have shut up now or at least was a lot quieter, perhaps because, if
Kinker's plan worked, he might just succeed in saving his friends
and the rest of the crew.

-

The most disturbing thing about the metallic beings,
in Malock's opinion, was not their silence or their glowing eyes or
their apparent ability to manipulate and bend metal to their will.
Nor was it their stubborn refusal to show even the slightest hint
of life in their movements. It wasn't even the loud creaking sounds
their joints made, like the noises made by the conveyor belts in
the boot factories back on Carnag.

What disturbed Malock more than anything else was
their utter indifference to his many titles. In spite of the fact
that he had revealed himself to be a prince and a Captain, the
metallic beings showed no sign that they thought either of those
two titles to be worthy of respect or reverence. They barely even
showed any interest in him, unless he slackened, in which case one
of the rear guard would poke him with one of the metal spears and
force him to speed up.

Not that the walk was unpleasant, mind. The
cobblestone path was devoid of snow, which Malock found odd because
it was currently snowing, albeit very lightly. The source of its
clearness became obvious to him, however, when he saw the snow
literally bounce off the cobblestone onto the ditches on either
side. He figured it was probably magic at work, which meant that
either a mage or a god ruled this island; he hoped it was the
former.

The rest of the hunters seemed as disgruntled as he
was by this whole arrangement. Jenur had even attempted to make a
break for it, but the metallic beings were as quick as they were
tough and caught her easily. Now she had a set of thick manacles
around her wrists and ankles that she complained were too tight.
None of the metallic beings seemed to care.

The path to the palace took them away from the other
huts, although occasionally Malock caught a glimpse of glowing
orange eyes peering at them through the windows. They passed over
one of the clear streams, which Malock stole a glimpse at, but he
saw nothing in the water except smooth stones and weird-looking
metallic fish.

Soon, the group reached the palace's front gates.
The front gates opened almost immediately, without any of the
metallic beings uttering so much as a word, and the hunters were
shepherded through. Half of the metallic beings stayed behind on
the other side, while the other half went through the front gates
with Malock and the others.

The palace's courtyard was quite different from the
rest of the area behind the ice walls. There was no snow on it at
all; rather, there was a bright green lawn, with rows upon rows of
exotic flowers that Malock had never seen before. One in particular
caught his interest, a tall blue flower with a dozen bubs that
glowed slightly in the sunlight.

They weren't alone, however. Bending over one of the
flowers was a young woman who couldn't have been older than Jenur.
The young woman immediately noticed the group and stood up, causing
Malock to look at her again just to make sure he wasn't seeing
things.

Yes, she really was dressed in a giant flower. Or at
least, her dress was designed in such a way that it looked like she
was wearing a giant yellow blooming flower upside down over her
body, the hem of which went to her knees. Her hair was long and
green, the same shade as the grass actually. She looked almost
human, but something about the way she walked and held herself told
Malock otherwise.

“What's this?” said the woman as she walked over to
them, speaking perfect Divina. “Did my brother invite some guests
over?”

The lead metallic being, the small, childlike one
from before, walked up to her and spoke in a strange language
Malock couldn't understand. It also made a variety of movements
with its hands and fingers, which appeared to be part of the
language, though Malock couldn't be sure.

The woman seemed to understand the metallic being
completely. She tapped her chin, nodding occasionally, and saying,
“Interesting ... yes ... of course ... I see ...”

For the life of him, Malock just hoped that the
woman was as kind as she was beautiful. If she was a goddess,
though, like the Loner God ... well, he had a feeling that his
hunters' luck had just run out.

The metallic being stopped speaking and then turned
to its brethren and spoke again. The other metallic beings
immediately lowered their spears and stepped away from the hunters,
causing Malock and his men to look around in surprise.