The Prey of Gods

by Nicky Drayden

  Nomvula brings the godfruit to her lips. She knows she shouldn’t. She’s worried she’ll like it too much, worried she’ll start wanting to stay here forever. She’ll just take a small taste, Nomvula decides. Enough so she can use what she learns against Sydney. She’s going back to fight her, with or without Muzi. She presses the blue-black flesh to her tongue. It envelops every single one of her taste buds, cracks them clean open, and cracks her mind open, too. A storm of infinite knowledge rains down upon her, unleashing the true breadth of the god hidden inside her.

  She concentrates, grabbing at a strand of reality, and it comes into focus. She sees Sydney and herself, entangled in battle, spinning around each other like two suns caught in each other’s grip until Sydney unleashes a storm of fury that grinds Nomvula down to dust. Nomvula pulls again, a slightly different version of reality with the same gruesome end. Again. Again. Sometimes she comes close, but no matter what she does, no matter what she tries . . .

  Nomvula grips herself, pulls back to the here and now, and shakes the omniscience off like cobwebs.

  “Did you see?” Muzi asks, but Nomvula’s too numb to answer. “You can’t go back there, Nomvula. Stay here with us. The forest will give us everything we need. We can be happy here.”

  Nomvula wonders if Muzi’s right. What if it’s pointless to fight Sydney? She’d seen how powerful Sydney had gotten upon each of Nomvula’s deaths. But then it dawns on her what she hadn’t seen. “You weren’t there,” Nomvula says sharply, pointing her finger at Muzi’s chest. “You weren’t there to help me. That’s why I died!”

  Muzi startles, shakes his head at her words, then his eyelids draw shut, eyes darting back and forth beneath them like a dream. He shudders, his face tense and painful to watch. Elkin wraps his arm around Muzi and squeezes him tight until the shaking stops.

  Muzi’s eyes flick open. He turns to Elkin. “She’s right. I’m not there in the visions.”

  “It won’t matter if you are,” Elkin says. “Sydney’s too strong.”

  “But if I don’t even try—”

  “Do you know how many eternities I’ve been here alone? Waiting for you?” Elkin’s voice stings something wicked. His eyes flash at Nomvula, almost begging. They then settle back on Muzi. “Please.”

  “I can’t stay here with you, Elkin. I want to, so bladdy badly, but I can’t.”

  “I can’t have you, then, not even in death.” Elkin slumps forward, looking pitiful, like he’d spent a decade perfecting his sulk, the quaver in his voice, the hint of wetness at the corners of his eyes.

  Muzi opens his mouth, and it hangs there. He’s going to stay here, Nomvula knows it, and then all will be lost.

  Chapter 49

  Muzi

  “Nomvula, I’m sorry,” Muzi says, rubbing Elkin’s back. “But me and Elkin are a team. I can’t leave him behind.”

  “We’re a team, too, and I think you’re a lousy teammate!” Nomvula flaps her wings and somersaults midair with a fancy twist so she ends up facing away from Muzi and staring at a path of flowers among the trees and shrubs. “We have to find Mr. Tau so he can get us back before it’s too late!”

  Muzi drapes his arm over Elkin, blinking away the sting in his eyes. He’s damned if he stays, damned if he leaves. It’s not fair that he’s trapped in this hell, while he’s surrounded by paradise. But Muzi’s a man now, and this is no time for him to make selfish decisions.

  “Elkin, I can’t—”

  “Don’t say it,” Elkin pleads. “Stay with me, just a little longer. I’m not asking for forever. Just a few more hours.”

  “You know I can’t,” Muzi says as he bobbles a godfruit in his palm. “We both know it.” A few hours, he knows they can’t spare, but a few minutes . . . “Nomvula, I’ll be right behind you, okay?”

  “You promise?” she asks.

  Muzi nods, and she fixes him with a stare that says that he’d better mean it, then she flies off down the flower-lined path. When she’s out of sight, Muzi leans in for a good-bye kiss, but Elkin turns his head away.

  “You’re mad, I get it,” Muzi says.

  “I’m not mad. I’m proud of you. Not that it matters now.”

  “What?”

  “It’s beautiful here, isn’t it?” Elkin says with a sigh. “Just look at that view.”

  Frustration creeps up Muzi’s nerves, but he pushes it away. He can’t end this on a sour note. “I know this is hard, but please, can’t we at least have a proper good-bye?” Muzi tries to stand, but the soles of his feet stick to the ground. He tugs, but feels deep roots anchoring him down. And when he looks harder, he sees the skin on his legs growing scaly, rough bark making its way up his shins and calves, and Elkin’s, too, fusing them together where their skin touches.

  “Shit! Shit! Shit!” Muzi screams, tugging and bucking and trying to break free from the earth’s grip. He glances over at Elkin, who doesn’t look concerned in the slightest. Muzi’s brow goes heavy. “You knew this was happening, didn’t you?”

  Elkin doesn’t deny it, just rubs his fingers along the bark where their legs become one. “It’s so beautiful here . . .”

  “You tricked me, you chop!”

  “I didn’t mean to. That’s not why I brought you here, anyway. Being with you made me forget, and then when I remembered, I . . . I figured there were worse fates.”

  Muzi shakes his head. This isn’t happening. He peels at the bark, thin and supple and ash gray, tearing off leg hair as well as skin. He screams the first few times, but his pain is slowing him down. So Muzi grits his teeth and works faster, yanking away strips of bark. It’s growing back nearly as fast.

  Elkin’s hands come to the rescue, working his way down Muzi’s left thigh, knee, calves, ankles, while his own bark moves up his torso.

  “I’m sorry,” he mutters. “I guess the world needs you more than I do.”

  The whole forest shudders as Muzi rips himself from the grip of the earth, the skin of his feet coming off like worn house slippers. The scream echoes through his skull, rattling his bones. His legs are a red pulp from the knees down, his mangled feet barely recognizable, but the terror that strikes the most fear in Muzi’s heart is seeing bark seal up Elkin’s lips. Twigs sprout from Elkin’s shoulders, elbows, and hands, green foliage unfurling, thick and succulent. Muzi goes to snap one off, but Elkin shakes his head with what little movement he has left.

  Ooh, Elkin pisses Muzi off sometimes. A lot of the time, actually. But there’s no way in hell he’s letting Elkin off this easily. And there’s no way in hell Muzi’s going to put up with having a tree for a boyfriend. He’ll threaten Mr. Tau if he has to. Whatever it takes. He’s not leaving Elkin behind.

  The black earth gives up easily beneath him as Muzi burrows around Elkin’s former legs. Muzi’s careful not to dig too long in one place so he won’t get rooted again himself. At three feet down, he’s able to tug Elkin’s roots free from the dirt. Though at this point, there’s not much of Elkin left, just a tree with a knot in the trunk where his face had been, and a couple of branches that look vaguely like arms and hands.

  Muzi demands vines from the forest, and they drop down into neat piles of rope at his feet. He ties them around Elkin’s trunk, then around his own waist, and step by slow, agonizing step, he makes his way across a carpet of white flowers, with Elkin the tree dragging behind him. The path butts up against the banks of a river, and Muzi follows it upstream until finally, he catches a glimpse of Nomvula’s golden wings flapping ahead, hovering over something caught in the middle of the river.

  Exhausted and in pain, Muzi lets the vines go, and collapses to the earth. If the forest tries to swallow him up again, this time he might let it happen.

  “Nomvula,” he calls out.

  She turns and flies his way. “Muzi!” she says, eyes tracing over the red where his skin once had been. It burns all over, infected by who knows what kinds of organisms that lurk in this forest. Nomvula raises her hand to the canopy above, and a leaf drops
into her palm, folded into a neat, green envelope. She squeezes cool gel out and rubs it on his legs, soothing, then numbing. Muzi sighs with relief.

  “Did you find Mr. Tau?” Muzi manages.

  Nomvula nods solemnly, then looks back over her shoulder at the lump of something half buried in the river’s current. Could be a man, could be a big rock.

  “He mourns for his wife. He won’t answer me. Just cries and cries and cries. This place can be as wicked as it is beautiful,” Nomvula says flatly, not childlike at all.

  “There’s got to be a way to get through to him,” Muzi says. He stands, feet still unsteady beneath him, but he’s so close now. “He’s got to get us back home. And Elkin, too.”

  Nomvula’s eyes flick to the tree, squinting at the knot and the familiar features protruding from the bark. “That’s . . . Elkin?”

  “I know it’s stupid, a person trapped inside a tree, I just thought there might be something Mr. Tau could do . . .”

  Nomvula smiles. “It’s not stupid at all. The world started with the beauty of the six trees that Mr. Tau brought to life. Maybe he can find it in his heart to do so for one more.” And Nomvula begins to tell Muzi a fantastic story, of trees and crabs and dolphins and snakes and women carved of wood. Muzi has a hard time believing in it, even though he’s sitting smack-dab in the middle of it all. But there is one thing that’s true . . . Elkin is a beautiful specimen of a tree, though if Nomvula is right, hopefully he won’t stay that way for long.

  Muzi wades out into the river, the salty warm water stinging his skin. He places his hand against the boulder of a man, slivers in the cut rock hinting at arms, legs, the curve of a spine. It doesn’t take much to sympathize. Muzi has lost, too, and he knows that there are no words that can erase the sting of a broken heart.

  “I’m sorry,” Muzi quickly mutters. “I’m so sorry.” And then an eternity passes between the silence. “She must have been wonderful.”

  The boulder shifts, becoming less rock, more man. Shoulders rise from stone, ribs, a head bowed forward. “She was cautious, calculating, and cold. Didn’t make me love her any less.”

  Muzi laughs despite himself. “I know what you mean. Elkin’s too fiery for his own good, never held on to a thought long enough to wonder if it was a good idea. All heart and no filter. Or at least he was.”

  “You think that I can free him from that tree, don’t you?”

  “Nomvula said—”

  “Nomvula is too young to understand.” The boulder sits up, angular cheeks and a prominent nose glistening against cut granite. He stands, stiffly, then slogs through the river toward the shore, toward Elkin. Fingers break away from Mr. Tau’s rock fist, and he gently caresses the bark. “A fine specimen. I can see why you are so enamored.”

  “But the six trees!” Muzi says. “You carved them with your own hands, or was it all just a tale?”

  “I am an artist, yes. But that was many, many lifetimes ago, when I was young, foolish, and swept away by love. I had no idea of what I was doing. It was the sacrifice of the animals that brought my wives truly to life.”

  “Can you at least show us the way home, baba?” Nomvula asks, so much urgency in her voice. “If there’s nothing you can do for Elkin . . .”

  “There’s nothing I can do for him,” Mr. Tau says, but the slight inflection in his voice doesn’t escape Muzi’s notice. Nothing I can do for him. Mr. Tau flicks his fingers, and a black emptiness opens in front of him, the world bending out of its way. A doorway of sorts, but more than that.

  Muzi feels the draw back to the real world, but his job here is not yet done. He picks up a sharp piece of rock from the ground and stands in front of Elkin. “You go ahead,” he says to Nomvula. “I’ll be right behind you.”

  Her cold, brown hand rests on his shoulder. “Saying good-bye is hard. But he’s at peace.”

  Muzi raises the rock to the tree’s knot, angling it like a blade. He begins to cut away, soft bark coming off in delicate peels. The last thing anyone would call Muzi is an artist, but there he stands, carving Elkin’s face into the trunk like the crude rendering of a child’s crayon drawing. As he does this, the pressure to return home grows, a real force against his body now, not just a vague homesickness.

  “I’m not saying good-bye,” Muzi says calmly, like he doesn’t notice the rift growing larger, distorting more and more of the surrounding forest like one of those abstract art pieces people throw millions of rand at. Like a whirlpool sucking them in. “He’s coming with us.”

  “But Mr. Tau said—”

  “Forget what Mr. Tau said. Please, just go now, and heal Elkin’s body when you’re on the other side.”

  “Promise, you’ll come through,” Nomvula says, wing flaps now futile against the tug. “Promise me no matter what, you’ll be by my side!”

  “I promise,” Muzi says. “Partners, one hundred percent.” Not a lie, not at all. But he doesn’t tell her about his sacrifice.

  She smiles briefly before letting the nothing swallow her whole.

  There isn’t much time left, and Muzi jabs at the tree where he thinks Elkin’s heart would be, just like in the story. He then turns to Mr. Tau, a grimace on his old face as he studies the mutilation that Muzi calls art. “How do I do it?” Muzi asks. “How do I make the sacrifice? My animal spirit for his life.”

  “You won’t have the power to fight Sydney,” Mr. Tau warns.

  “I don’t need powers if I’ve still got my mind and my body.”

  Mr. Tau purses his lips, then nods. “Such is the price for love. Steep, but it is your decision on whether or not it’s worth paying.” Mr. Tau is a whole man now, though patches of rough stone show here and there on his skin. “You’re certain?” Mr. Tau asks.

  “More certain than I’ve been about anything my whole entire life.”

  “Very well then.”

  Lightning arcs through Muzi’s mind. It feels worse than losing his skin—like his very being is unraveling, like barbwire is running through his veins, shredding his heart, scorching his lungs. He collapses to the ground, rocking back and forth on his knees, his breath erupting from his mouth like a plume of volcano ash. Mr. Tau’s hand presses against Muzi’s ear, and at once, the pain all converges on his eardrum, rupturing with a stuttering snare, plunging him into a blinding white silence.

  And then it’s over, almost before it began, and in his cupped hands Muzi holds a crab—a scrawny thing with a dull, rust-red carapace and claws, and beady eyes that survey its surroundings. Not in the least bit intimidating. Almost cute. There’s no time to waste, though. Muzi forms a fist and pummels it, fighting his way against the pull of the rift and back toward Elkin. He stuffs the crab pulp into the heart well, and stands back as his carving animates, mouth yawning as if from a thousand years’ sleep. Lopsided eyes blink open. Crooked nose. A masterpiece.

  “Muzi? What’s going on?” Elkin’s voice creaks like bending wood, surprising them both.

  “No time to explain,” Muzi says, tugging an appendage that’s half arm, half branch, then shoving Elkin through the rift. He then turns to Mr. Tau, the only solid thing left in this place. Thank you, he mouths, for the nothing has nearly swallowed Muzi up too, voice and all.

  Chapter 50

  Clever4–1

  Delusional, then. How very human of you, Clever4–1.1 says, then turns back to Muzi’s limp body, sharp blade at the bulge in his throat.

  Clever4–1 tries to stand, tries to strike out, but motor control remains elusive, those functions overwritten by Clever4–1.1’s rogue code. But he does catch sight of something.

  Nomvula’s body shifting, waking from slumber.

  Clever4–1 tries to warn her, but there’s so little left of it now, no more logic than a programmable toaster. Her eyes flick to Muzi in peril. She stands. Shouts words that Clever4–1 can no longer parse through its voice recognition patterns. Clever4–1.1 turns, wielding its knife appendage at her instead. Vision flickers. The scene plays out like snapshots.
The rogue bot has the girl caught in its grasp. She screams. It points the sharp thing . . . the knife . . . against her forehead. Draws a bead of red liquid. Blood, Clever4–1 remembers what it’s called, then forgets again. The other one, other human, his eyelids part. This Instance’s master, it thinks, though it is not sure. His name is long lost, familiar bytes slipping away down a data drain. The other one scowls, picks up an object, heavy, red, cylindrical. It cracks against the rogue bot’s head, sending it to the floor.

  There is more, but This Instance can no longer process images. It can still hear their speech, foreign tongue of humans, too much to decode. Hands are upon it.

  Clever4–1? a small voice says in ones and zeros, barely a rasp through the background noise of the virus.

  It is too late. This Instance makes its peace, says its digital prayers. Welcomes the dark, all zeros.

  00000000 00000000 00000000 00000000 00000000 00000000 00000000 00000000 00000000 00000000 00000000 00000000 00000000 00000000 00000000 00000000 00000000 00000000 00000000 00000000 00000000 00000000 00000000 00000000 00000000 00000000 00000000 00000000 00000000 00000000 00000000 00000000 00000000 00000000 00000000 00000000 00000000 00000000 00000000 00000000 00000000 00000000 00000000 00000000 00000000 00000000 00000000 00000000 00000000 00000000 00000000 00000000 00000000 00000000 00000000 00000001 00000001 00000001 00000001 01001001 00100000 01110100 01101000 01101001 01101110 01101011 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100101 01110010 01100101 01100110 01101111 01110010 00100000 01001001 00100000 01100001 01101101 00100000 01001001 00100000 01110100 01101000 01101001 01101110 01101011 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100101 01110010 01100101 01100110 01101111 01110010 00100000 01001001 00100000 01100001 01101101 00100000 01001001 00100000 01110100 01101000 01101001 01101110 01101011 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100101 01110010 01100101 01100110 01101111 01110010 00100000 01001001 00100000 01100001 01101101 00100000 01001001 00100000 01110100 01101000 01101001 01101110 01101011 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100101 01110010 01100101 01100110 01101111 01110010 00100000 01001001 00100000 01100001 01101101 00100000 01001001 00100000 01110100 01101000 01101001 01101110 01101011 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100101 01110010 01100101 01100110 01101111 01110010 00100000 01001001 00100000 01100001 01101101 00100000