Live Like a God

by Taylor Kole

  He knelt and clenched a handful of earth. The act conjured memories of staring over the backyard moments before the family Easter egg hunt. Josh chuckled.

  Flavius’ body language tempered his excitement. The boy’s knees were bent and his back stiff as he padded forward, searching the foliage.

  “What is it? What do you see?” Josh asked in a hushed tone.

  “I see nothing, but danger lurks. Death stalks all who travel open roads.”

  Darkness seemed to suffuse the surroundings. Josh wrapped his fingers around the grip of his weapon and cautiously pulled it around his chest. The moment the cool handle connected with his off-hand, he slashed to his left and arched the blade through the green trunk of the nearest tree, severing it.

  Adrenaline filled him, sluicing energy to every atom in his body. His slice had been a near-perfect forty-five degrees. After a beat, the entire trunk slid along the cut, bashed into the higher plant life, and then tipped toward the travelers.

  The prospect of a thirty foot tree landing on him brought no fright. He welcomed the descent. Its velocity multiplied as the tree’s shadow spread, growing wider as it neared. Josh chucked the scimitar to the ground, thrust his solid arms up, and caught the falling tree. He tossed the enormous plant to his right and watched it crash onto the path behind them.

  “You have the strength of a thousand boars,” Flavius said with wide eyes. “But you mustn’t tempt the go—” He caught himself and continued in a lower voice, “It is more favorable not to draw attention, m’lord. Mantis is a demon lord known for slaying gods.”

  Slaying gods? Josh attached the sword behind his back, crept near the boy, and though he suspected he already knew the answer, asked, “Who is Mantis?”

  “A soulless god as green as these minor trees. Arms made of a thousand spears.” He awkwardly bent his arms to show the reverse design. “Seventy feet tall with a shell of impenetrable armor. Everyone must flee when he raids a village for none, save RobertJohnson, have ever slain one. And Mantis does not eat his fill and leave like normal demons. He looms fearless and devours flesh until there is no more.”

  Josh swallowed the lump in his drying throat and searched the jungle. The insectile eyes from Dr. Ferrel’s office burned into his mind. Knowing a territorial, carnivorous, master of camouflage—a praying mantis—lived in this habitat weakened his knees.

  A bundle of trees a hundred feet tall loomed in the distance. That soulless beast could be watching them right now.

  “Which way to your village?”

  Flavius pointed out the direction with a nod, and they crept onward.

  III

  They trekked to Reysona in near-silence.

  Although on high alert during the entire journey, Flavius pointed out the widely-spaced, day-old tracks made by a pair of eviscerators. Judging by his description, eviscerators were ants. Stopping at another junction, Flavius showed him an abandoned trapper fence. Even with filament as thick as Josh’s wrist and yellowed with age, the spider web blended in with the jungle, almost vanishing when viewed from certain angles.

  These revelations, which appeared every hundred yards or so, sparked more fear than if Betaloome had been populated by unknown beasts. Josh knew the disproportionate strength ants wielded with their mandibles and that spiders killed with a venom that liquefied the organs of their prey, allowing their fangs to act as straws. The unwanted knowledge painted very clear pictures and kept him surveying the jungle as they traveled.

  Reaching the first signs of a defensive perimeter, a dilapidated wall, spiked Josh’s concern over surviving a month behind such a flimsy barrier. Bent, broken, and missing planks stretched into the woods on either side. In the distance, he saw a ten-foot section knocked flat. The main gate remained intact but unmanned. Flavius unhooked the crossbeam by using a stick shaped for sliding through the wood. A hundred yards separated them from a well-constructed, sand-colored perimeter defense. The entire area between the two had been cleared of vegetation and littered with deadfalls, making the earthy expanse resemble a minefield.

  The precision-constructed interior wall stood firm, which inspired confidence. Dogs barked from behind it as they approached. A pair of sentries leaned over the balustrade, and inspected the new arrivals.

  The smell of burning wood, the laughter of kids playing and adults conversing presented a welcome contrast to the eerie jungle. Whispers spread behind the gate, causing the ordinary sounds to diminish and the dogs to be hushed.

  Josh heard men removing a support beam, bolts disengaged, and then the gate yawned inward.

  A crowd of people waited. More villagers hustled to join the scene from all directions. The people in the front shuffled backward to make room for Josh and Flavius. Some seemed concerned by the presence of a god and kept their heads down. Others smiled and nodded upon eye contact.

  Their garments appeared made of a durable canvas and stitched with care. The occasional colored sash or dress added what little variety existed. Although many of the faces were dirty, the populace seemed healthy and fit.

  Josh halted once the gates started to close.

  Flavius stepped in front of him, and in a voice teeming with pride announced, “I give you, JoshRidley!” One word.

  Murmurs washed over the group as they knelt and bowed their heads. Many repeated his name while others voiced prayers of gratitude.

  A man dressed in a clean, white toga stepped through the crowd. A small entourage accompanied him.

  “Welcome, most venerable, JoshRidley. I am your humble servant, Cronin, mayor of this grateful town. This is my sergeant-in-arms, Nero; my wife, Octavissa; and this is my daughter, Junea.”

  “It’s nice to meet you.” Josh replied as he sneaked quick glances at Junea. The mayor and his wife were in their early fifties and stately. Nero stood a head taller than the rest and appeared brutish, dressed in leather armor with a sword sheathed at his waist. He lowered his eyes when Josh met them but he held the gaze long enough for Josh to detect the sternness of a seasoned warrior. He had a dominant scar on his right cheek that aligned with a disfigurement to his shoulder. Josh winced when picturing the degree of violence needed for such an injury.

  But Junea held him spellbound. She had Mediterranean features: dark, sensual eyes, a mane of black hair tied in a knot and draped over her shoulder. Her oversized bosom and curved hips completed the package. As he studied her, she watched his eyes. Seeing her unleashed an attraction in Josh. He attributed the sensation’s intensity to his new vessel, for he wasn’t a man who chased women, evaluated them on their looks, or felt overwhelming desire for a stranger.

  JoshRidley, the god—not the man—had a surprisingly active libido. He experienced a brief flash with him standing at the center of a harem. He would embrace the closest woman and passionately sap her before tossing her aside and grabbing another like a ravenous vampire awakened from a century’s slumber. He shook off the unexpected fantasy.

  Flushing, realizing he had zoned out in front of dozens of strangers, he searched their eager, desperate faces and processed Flavius’ words.

  He had been bombarded with requests for his opinion before at work when coworkers, particularly Bruce, sought his analysis on an investment strategy. This was an entirely new level of interest.

  The entire village hung on his slightest movement. It created a pressure against his heart. He lifted his shoulders and straightened his back. He wondered if this was the first time others truly wanted to know his opinion.

  “I am not cruel,” he said.

  Admittedly not the most rousing speech, but it percolated appreciation from most of the crowd and seemed to alleviate worry from the rest. After a beat, with all eyes still on him, he added in a voice strong enough to carry over the crowd, “I am here to help.”

  The village erupted in cheers and applause. Couples hugged and children darted around as if in search of friends. Even the dogs barked their appreciation.

  All the while, Junea stood radiant, staring
at him with unabashed curiosity. He struggled to repress his desire to stride over and take her hand, place it on his arm, have her feel his supercharged body.

  Remembering his commitment to Karen helped subdue his inappropriate thoughts. Apparently, this adventure would test, and eventually improve, his self-discipline.

  He sought out Flavius.

  “Shall I escort you to your temple, JoshRidley?” the proud young man asked. He pointed to a large building near the center of the expansive town, visible by being three stories and the only building not made of wood. The temple’s design was Roman. The metallic body looked out of place. Josh wondered if a Monopoly game piece had been placed in the middle of this aged village.

  After a nod, Josh followed Flavius.

  The villagers broke into a song, a sonorous tune he imagined originated with sailors of antiquity. As he hummed along, he felt so real, so full of purpose, invincible.

  A pavilion near the temple hosted the celebratory feast. The chefs butchered five hogs and the healthiest cow in Reysona. They boiled, smoked, and baked chicken. Like choice wines, main dishes were paired and presented with specific fruits, berries, and pies. Stringed instruments strummed. Drums beat. Cloth flaps saved the young from viewing the rowdy adults, but Josh saw more than one flap get lifted and a set of curious eyes peep in.

  The villagers’ idea of evening wear often made it difficult to chew. Women wore garments that lifted and showcased cleavage. Men, toned from a life of labor, went shirtless. They arm-wrestled over the privilege of kissing a woman. They wagered on racing lizards. They challenged one another to drinking games and graciously played the fool after losing. A fermented wine scented the air, stained the earthen floor, and amplified the jovial atmosphere.

  For the most part, the men showed Josh a respectful indifference; perhaps too intimidated to acknowledge his presence. Many of the women glanced at him bashfully and when caught, turned red and looked away. One brave woman squeezed Josh’s forearm and asked him for a dance. Having neglected the art since his first junior high event, he declined.

  On his solo walk back to the temple, he heard more than one man in the dark whispering to a woman, drawing romantic laughter.

  His bedchamber inside the metallic temple dominated the far end of the cavernous structure. Maidens were stationed along the walls in the shadows behind burning torches. He slammed three steins of strong port and with hardly a buzz, and fell asleep on a mattress large enough for ten.

  In the morning, after a warm bath attended by young women whose hands he continually guided away from certain areas, he exited his temple. Flavius waited to give him a village tour.

  Surprisingly, Reysona boasted a generous lumberyard stacked with row upon row of wood he recognized as common popsicle sticks. The steel mill was piled with paper-clips, ripe for bending, smelting, and reshaping.

  They farmed a portion of the land and used another for grazing. A river flowed a mile to the south, from which a conservative aqueduct had been carved into the village. The citizens nurtured a fear of excessive water and reasoned drawing more than necessary invited a demonic raid.

  Through conversations near the training areas, he learned every man and many of the women were proficient in weapons. Multiple scouting parties moved in stealth beyond the outer wall. Josh learned trappers lived underground, above the earth, and among the trees. Also that their infestation had grown so rampant, most villagers spent their entire lives behind the walls, and still lived in constant danger.

  Using sticks, rocks, and drawings in the sand, Flavius taught him the landscape of Bristalius, Betaloome’s second-level nation. Dozens of generously-spaced villages existed in necessary isolation. Long ago, they had traded and traveled freely. However, all communication now occurred by carrier pigeon and to roam outside the wall meant almost certain death.

  He spent day three in and around the temple, with Nero and his lieutenants briefing him on the eviscerators. They knew of forty-six mounds populating Bristalius. The good news was eviscerators warred with one another. The bad news was they continually increased their territory and fiercely defended their land. A mound holding roughly two-hundred demons, split almost four to one between scouts and soldiers, had been established within a day’s march from Reysona. Scouts had recently broken through Reysona’s outer wall, tripping three of their deadfalls. The nearest colony, like all the others, was ruled and supported by a single queen and a half dozen princesses. Everyone knew they would soon claim Reysona as their territory, and kill all trespassers.

  Storming the heavily defended mound and slaying the queen was the only method of eradicating a colony. Since her daughters were incapable of succession (for once they were queens, they created new homes), chaos and infighting would follow. Josh sensed their desire for him to do this, but it was unthinkable, so he stayed silent until they moved on.

  The mayor entertained Josh throughout a rainy day four. He heard the individual pleas and plights of the villagers and learned the exact location of known trappers, all while stealing glances at Junea and admiring each time she spoke.

  On day five, he witnessed a gruesome death.

  IV

  Rainfall fell every thirteenth day in Betaloome and lasted from dusk until dawn. The dampness of the fourteenth day created immense demon activity, and increased danger.

  The citizens of Reysona enjoyed their nights to an almost criminal degree. The days passed in labor. None more so than the morning of the fourteenth day when anyone old enough to lift a bucket or push a broom participated in the removal of excess rain water.

  The dirt road offered a slight grade that pooled water into buried bins and troughs. Outlying puddles, of which there were many, were promptly scooped and deposited into boiling tubs.

  Josh assisted by fulfilling his earlier dream of splitting logs at a bewildering rate. His impressive lumberjack skills expedited the evaporation by providing an abundance of firewood. That and the gathering of children and stunned adults watching the display filled him with a sense of gratitude for being able to serve.

  A distant scream interrupted his fun.

  The scream initially conjured images of a startled girl, until the distinct yelp continued into a ululation that soared and sent goosebumps down his arms and the weight of an iron anvil into his midsection. Other distressed shouts joined in quick succession and, like a crowd surfer delivered at his feet, delivered an urgency Josh had never felt.

  His audience dispersed in a flash, many seeking cover, others running pell-mell away from the sound. The disturbance, two homes away, drew Josh unwittingly, like a ghost to its place of departure.

  The spider in the road had mammoth proportions that so unnerved him, after six steps he dropped his axes to appear less threatening, and stood still. The predator was the size of an SUV but wider, more circular. Its jittery movements blurred with such speed that they appeared acts of teleportation. All eight legs moved with symmetry, darting the beast to the left, flashing it to the right, as it assessed the danger of the panicked crowd.

  Josh understood the swaying rods on its legs were hairs, but they stayed stiff as if defensive spikes. Its muscles flexed like pistons beneath brown flesh and rivaled his own in definition.

  A girl, no older than fourteen, hung dead from its mouth. A fang had stabbed and mangled her face, the other lanced her chest. Only seconds had passed yet her skin grew dark and taut.

  Josh repressed the urge to retch.

  Men shouted commands as others screamed. Shockingly, Nero ran toward the spider. He wore nothing but an undergarment that revealed more scars on his chest and back. He carried a ten-foot spear. Skidding to a halt near the beast, he stabbed at it repeatedly.

  As if bored, the spider shifted back and forth, avoiding Nero’s lunges.

  Remove the sounds of hysteria and the child’s corpse, and the scene could have been mistaken for an inter-species ballet.

  A tentative crowd formed at a distance, people poked around barrels, buildings and
crates. In their ranks a common sentiment spread.

  “Where is JoshRidley?”

  “Help us, JoshRidley.”

  “Kill the demon, JoshRidley.”

  Him? He scoffed, and looked side to side. However, as if propelled by their expectation, he crept toward the scene.

  Suspecting that to draw his weapon would catch the spider’s attention he left the scimitar across his back.

  Judging by the spider’s size and agility, Josh had placed himself at the edge of its attack range. Only Nero stood closer, striking with determined intent, but the spider moved so fast that Nero hit nothing.

  To have something more to put between the spider and himself, as an offensive option, Josh eased the scimitar from its sheath. Sunlight reflected off the blade and onto the spider.

  The beast faced him and danced in place as if calculating the new threat. Moments later, it returned its attention to Nero.

  The child had been reduced to a dark, prunish, humanoid shape.

  “Kill the demon, m’lord.” Flavius’ voice penetrated his focus. Looking over his shoulder, he saw the boy beside him gripping a long spear and breathing heavily.

  Josh gauged Flavius’ sincerity but Flavius didn’t notice. He stared hungrily at the monster as if it was a pest soon to be swatted, not a living creature of unimagined horror.

  The heft and craftsmanship of the scimitar gave Josh confidence, but not enough to rush into the fray with such a fierce opponent. Josh would never say it, but the best scenario for him was the spider finishing the girl and returning to wherever it came from. Josh would run after it shouting to save face.

  With a nudge from Flavius, he lumbered forward. Perhaps Josh’s presence, as a possible second attacker, would help the spider decide to flee.