The Unwaba Revelations

by Samit Basu

  ‘This is correct. Your understanding of matters divine is impressive. Carry on.’

  ‘Thank you. But some of us spend our whole lives immersed in arcane studies, or struggling through battle after battle. For us, the gods’ decision to end the world, no matter how justified, comes as a bitter end to our labours. If mortals are by their very nature doomed to displease the gods, every world is doomed. True heroes, men and women of legend who please the gods and preserve the world, do not come often; inevitably, dark times arrive, heralding the end. But surely the gods do not enjoy killing their own children, no matter how twisted they have become. The children, I mean, not the gods, of course.’ Mantric gulped and continued.

  ‘What if, I thought, a middle path could be found? What if we could find a way to show the gods stories of perfect mortals, fighting ceaselessly for justice, winning epic battles, loving against all odds with undying passion, conquering evil without and within, and being, in other words, really, really, ridiculously entertaining? And what if we could preserve these stories, so if the gods liked them, they could see them again and again? What if all the heroes of these stories would be truly immortal, bound to serve the gods forever? What if we could give the gods the magnificent battles, the heroic quests, the soul-stirring romances, the heart-rending tragedies, the stomach-cramping comedies that would satisfy them, without needing to kill most of the world’s denizens in the process? And that’s not all. What if we could show the gods the stories of the gods? Show them their loves, their lives, their wars and journeys? Would that not be a gift to delight even gods?’

  ‘It would indeed. But merely wishing for something is not a gift, Mantric.’

  Mantric smiled. ‘I am here to give you far more than a gift, O massive and scarily powerful entity,’ he said. ‘I give you a vision like no other. I give you…Muwi-vision!’

  Mantric opened another chest with a flourish and hauled out an imp, a Picsquid and a sheaf of Muwi root.

  ‘As far as I can see, you are offering Us two small dead animals and some form of floral life.’

  Mantric looked sheepish. ‘Well, they do tend to die if taken far away from Bolvudis,’ he said. ‘But who better to resolve that problem than the gods themselves? If you would just bring these creatures back to life, O most godly one, I will show you something truly amazing.’

  ‘The Rules of the Game forbid Our interference.’

  ‘But surely you already broke those rules when you stopped time and put those islands in our way.’

  ‘You will not question Our decisions, or Our interpretations of Our Rules, Mantric. We are Gods.’

  ‘I apologize. Well, then, allow us to return to Bolvudis, and I will demonstrate the magic of Muwi-vision there.’

  ‘No, Mantric. We will not take you anywhere. You have disappointed Us. What would you show us in Bolvudis that We have not seen before? You seek to save the world with actors, with theatre? Besides, I have seen you at work in Bolvudis, and know full well that you have not even perfected your own discovery, this Muwi-vision. You still do not know how to move the images you have captured in your squids’ ink to a medium where others can see them. Or have you discovered a way?

  ‘No, I’m afraid not.’

  ‘And you expected Us to solve this problem for you?’

  ‘Well, the important thing is the idea, isn’t it? You created the world, your divineness. This is merely a gap in the world that you could fill in a second.’

  ‘True. It is also an unforgivable flaw in your gift to us. You travelled across the seas to the edge of the world for this, Mantric? We - expected so much more.’

  And then there was a laugh inside Mantric’s head, a jagged, mad laugh that convinced him he had lost his mind. This, he thought gravely, would probably be inconvenient.

  ‘Amloki.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Look.’ Fujen nodded towards her right, towards the great island of slithering tentacles slowly approaching the Duck of Destiny. Some of the tentacles had left the main, writing mass and now slithered slowly over the water’s surface towards the ship’s side. The Dagger saw huge, pink, moist suckers underneath them, and shuddered. On the left, the scale-covered island grew larger as well. More islands of scales appeared, in a line of humps sticking out the water.

  ‘Swords out, you think?’ he enquired.

  ‘We can’t fight it,’ she whispered. ‘You’ll have to think of something else. Can you…I don’t know…tickle it?’

  ‘You are seriously suggesting that I tickle a kraken.’

  ‘I don’t know. Whatever the appropriate position is for a kraken is.’

  ‘I don’t think there are any appropriate positions for krakens. Are you out of your mind? It’s the bloody kraken.’

  ‘Just checking. Swords out, you think?’

  ‘Hell yes.’

  Clever boy, said a voice inside Mantric’s head. You’ve done well. I’ll handle it from here.

  Mantric considered protesting, but could not, because his tongue would not move. His body jerked convulsively, and his eyes rolled; he could see nothing but white light. Something had entered his body and was swiftly and efficiently usurping his control over it.

  Calm down, my spluttering spellbinder, said Stochastos inside Mantric’s head. I’m on your side.

  Mantric choked, and would have doubled over, but Stochastos held him up. An instant later, he could see again, and hear, but when he spoke again, in his own voice, the words coming out of his mouth were not his.

  ‘You misunderstood me, O gracious gods,’ he said, noticing with admiration his body’s new assured yet casual stance. ‘The whole Muwi-vision idea was just an introductory speech. The real vision, the real gift, is something far, far bigger. An idea so vast in scale you’ll be stunned to think that a mere mortal thought of it.’

  ‘Let us hear it then, Mantric.’

  ‘You see, what I really want is the same thing you do. I want the end of the world.’

  ‘What?’

  Stochastos leaned forward to be more persuasive, not noticing that Mantric’s feet were now hovering a good two inches off the ground. ‘What is the end of the world, really? To us, it’s death, disaster and so on. But forget about us, we’re most insignificant. What is the end of the world to you, O dangerous divines? Nothing more than a change of state. Old order crumbleth, new order rumbleth. A world enters a new Age, a new state, full of new ideas. Of course, you tend to take the “old order crumbles” thing a little too literally, but that’s just the way you are.

  ‘You’re playing this Game with the world. And it’s a fine game, nothing wrong with it. Not the nicest situation for us, because we’re all dying, but you can’t please everyone, can you? But I have an idea that can make your Game infinitely more satisfying.’

  ‘I tire of this, Mantric. Tell us what your idea is, and quickly.’

  ‘All right, then. Let’s take my big idea – Muwi-vision – and marry it to yours – the Game. Imagine a GameWorld where the Game plays on endlessly and is seen by imps, mildly altered so they don’t die when they’re far away from Bolvudis and can roam all over the world. And they see everything, so you can see your favourite parts of the Game again in Muwi-vision whenever you want. But no one’s acting – it’s all real life. But every dramatic moment is made immortal, every story kept safe by Picsquids, and shown to you by some other creature you can invent. And you can control the Pieces perfectly – none of this viewing crystal nonsense. And that’s just the beginning.

  ‘What, I ask you, is the flaw in this plan? I’ll tell you. Mortals. Living creatures. They’re unpredictable. Unstable. Whimsical. Worse, they die just as you’re about to get to know them properly. Waste of all that training. And they don’t seem to enjoy being controlled, even when it’s good for them. The only solution to this is to eliminate them completely.’

  ‘This is what you ask of the gods? I thought you wanted to save lives.’

  ‘Of course I do. I’ll explain. The answer is zombies.
’

  ‘Zombies?’

  ‘Zombies. Easy to control. The rank and file have no will of their own, really. Even the leaders are extremely gullible. Detachable limbs, easy to rebuild in interesting new ways. The perfect renewable resource. So many people have died in these battles all over the world this year, and it’s a simple matter to raise them all. Besides, the undead army has lots of really ancient undead heroes, people who remember what old-fashioned heroism is all about, people who were part of all the old legends and don’t need to be taught anything. Imagine this: Legends relived. Heroes from different Ages pitted against one another. Former enemies fighting side by side. Perpetual war. Endless confusion. Endless entertainment. Huge armies with completely adjustable loyalties and none of the annoying defects of your average mortal. Unquestioning acceptance of traditional values and existing systems of power. Consider the possibilities. You tell them who they are, who they’re fighting and why. And they listen. And cut one another up. We – you - stitch them together again, and give them a new story. They start again. They give you exactly what you want to see, or you blow them into little bits and they start again. They don’t care – all they want is to feel alive, to feel anything. Everyone’s happy. The Game gets so much better. And you can tell who wins – I don’t know what you were planning to do with this one. And everyone gets to be in Muwi-visions, too. Is this a good plan or a great plan?’

  ‘You astound Us, Mantric! It is, indeed, a great plan. But what would We do with those who are still alive now? Destroy them all? This is your idea of saving your world? Is this what you want?’

  ‘Well, that’s the bit we get to after you decide whether or not you are satisfied with my gift.’

  The kraken’s tentacles reached the Duck of Destiny, and slithered up its sides, making horrible squelching noises. On board, they steadied their trembling hands and shaking swords and waited.

  ‘We are satisfied. Your gift has pleased Us,’ said Zivran, and there was a smile in his voice. ‘You may ask Us for a boon.’

  ‘Thank you so much, O puissant powers,’ said Stochastos in Mantric’s voice. ‘My gratitude is infinite, as is your grace. My only desire is to help you remove the only flaw in this perfect new Game, this perfect new GameWorld. I speak, of course, of the living. Now, while it might be easiest for you to simply kill them, as one who stands guilty of being one of them, I must selfishly beg you to let the living live. We too are your children, and eager to be loved. We are proud to have been a part of your Game, but now we must leave it. Alive, preferably.’

  ‘We must know how you know so much about Us, and Our Game.’

  ‘Well, I have a little confession to make,’ said Stochastos in Mantric’s voice. ‘You remember how I said you would find it amazing that I had thought of all this? With good reason. This wasn’t my idea. No mortal could think of something this good, you see. My inspiration came from a goddess. The Infinite Infant.’

  ‘What? You know where the Baby of Destiny is? Why did she disappear? Where is She? Tell Us at once?’

  ‘I know she once appeared before me in a dream, O cosmic king, and that is all I know. But while she was there, she said a lot. A singularly loquacious infant, that one. Wherever she is, she has made a world for us, and wants you to allow us to live on it, and escape this one. It is her destiny to rule the pantheon one day, and she wants to govern a world whose people are not of great importance, who will not be missed overmuch if they are lost, to prepare her for this task. If you could place us on that world, O laudable lord, she would not have to seek another world to rule. She would not get in any other god’s way, which is probably a good thing for everyone involved. She could toy with us happily, somewhere far away, in a secret corner of the galaxy, and let you play your perfect, completely subservient Game in peace.’

  ‘Hmm. Move everything from this world to that one, you mean? Humans, ravians, vamans, dragons, coconuts?’

  ‘Yes, O superb supreme being. One must never forget the coconuts.’

  ‘We must discuss this, Mantric. You must wait.’

  ‘It will be my pleasure.’

  I have to leave now, I’m afraid, said Stochastos. Pleasure meeting you. You had an interesting mind. But unless I attend that council and make a lot of trouble, they’ll know something’s wrong.

  Mantric swayed and almost fell as the chaos-lord left his body, the world flooding with strange colours before his eyes. Had an interesting mind? He would have thought about this some more, but lost consciousness and fell heavily on one of his useless treasure-chests.

  ‘Are we winning?’ asked Fujen as Mantric fell.

  ‘I think so,’ said the Dagger.

  ‘Then why isn’t the kraken going away?’

  ‘Baby-Duck?’ whispered Orpi.

  ‘Yes, love?’

  ‘Is this one kraken or two?’

  ‘There is only one, Baby-Duck.’

  Orpi pointed to the Duck’s rear. Fujen turned, and gasped. A huge serpent’s head, each eye the size of the ship, had risen above the waves behind the Duck. To the right, on the island of tentacles, another mouth appeared, a squid’s mouth, soft, cavernous and disgusting.

  ‘Are the onagers ready to fire, my love?’ asked Jen.

  ‘Always, my love.’

  ‘Then fire them, Baby-Duck.’

  ‘This, then, is the will of the gods,’ said Zivran. ‘You have pleased and amused the Gods, and your wish shall be granted. The living shall be spared and given a new world to live in. This ways of this world will end, but We will not destroy it; it will be used to build a better Game. It begins now.’

  Mantric remained rudely unconscious, but the rest of the crew whooped, cheered and hollered in joy, throwing hats and cutlasses into the air, unable to believe they had actually saved the day, and the world as well, and hoping someone would inform the kraken of this fact at some convenient point of time.

  ‘However,’ said Zivran, and there was immediate silence on board the Duck, ‘Several of Us felt that your gift to Us, while very pleasing in every other sense, was incomplete, since it requires Us to actually create a new species before We can extract the muwi-vision images from the picsqids’ ink-sacs. No doubt Mantric felt that this missing element added a sense of mystery, that the puzzle made it more challenging and interesting for Us. We loved this idea, so much so that We decided to return the compliment by making it necessary for you to solve a puzzle as well before enjoying the fruits of your labours; how does one survive the kraken?’

  The kraken thrust its heads out of the water, towering over the Duck, sending Fujen’s pirates hearts racing. ‘To arms!’ cried Fujen, her voice quavering.

  Zivran droned on smugly. ‘We thought your story would be far better if you died nobly, sacrificing yourselves to save your world. I offer you my congratulations, children. No one has come closer to outwitting the Gods than you did tonight. We will remember you fondly always. Goodbye.’

  The gods vanished.

  Orpi opened the festivities, hurling a huge ball of Psomedean fire from an onager with deadly accuracy into the great serpent-head’s eye. The ocean swelled, tilted and went berserk as the kraken’s head crashed into the waves, and from the kraken’s other mouth, in the heart of the island of tentacles, came a dreadful keening. The kraken raced towards the Duck of Destiny from every direction. Tentacles as thick as Vrihataranya’s oldest trees rose into the sky and lashed down on the Duck, crushing and maiming and pulling with their hideous suckers. Fujen’s crew fought back bravely with cutlasses and Psomedean fire, hacking and slashing and burning with everything they had, but without any real hope of victory. Every now an then, another brave pirate was dragged away, screaming, and the Duck’s figurehead squawked in agony as the kraken tried to squeeze the life out of her beautiful wooden beak.

  The Dagger leaped to Mantric’s side and shook him hard. Mantric stirred and mumbled something unintelligible.

  ‘Telu-yeti!’ roared the Dagger. ‘Heal him!’

  But Telu-
yeti was busy being dragged away by a massive tentacle. Fujen ran up beside her and hacked at the slimy arm until it slithered away; Telu-yeti rose immediately and charged at the kraken, screaming in monstrous battle-frenzy. She was clearly not in a very healing mood.

  ‘Knew…they’d…turn…’mumbled Mantric. ‘Open…trunk.’ Then his eyes rolled horribly and he fainted again.

  The Dagger ran back to the two trunks Mantric had left near him, somersaulting a few times to avoid a falling mast. The Berth Beast was still thumping away inside one of the trunks; the Dagger wondered whether or not to let it loose. Would it attack the kraken or the pirates?

  There was certainly more kraken than pirate to go around, but it was too risky. He smashed the other trunk open and cried out in delight.

  It was the Mirror of Icelosis. Mantric, bless his mad bald head, had remembered to bring an escape route, always the first item on the list of the discerning god-greeter. The Dagger dragged it out of the trunk and on to the middle of the deck, protecting it from the kraken with skilled thrusts of his sword, each slash chopping a tentacle, filling the deck with what looked like the largest collection of rotten fish in the world.

  The Dagger put his hand on the mirror’s smooth surface, expecting it to turn black and transform into a portal to Kol.

  Nothing happened. The Dagger swore angrily; if he wasn’t a hero, who was? He called Jen and Telu-yeti to him. They raced back, ducking and rolling to avoid the kraken’s monstrous limbs sweeping over the Duck, and they tried their luck as well, but the mirror remained obstinately silvery and clear; the portal did not open. Telu-yeti even dragged Mantric to the mirror and placed his limp hand on it. Nothing at all.