by Drew Hayes
Lawrence took a seat on one of the stone benches that littered the area. Other men might have seen a threat in Felbren’s words; Lawrence only saw opportunity. “It was a difficult prospect from the beginning. All I had was some petty cash and a few young men with able bodies and useless minds. That against a crew of people with the knowledge of a god is something of a tall order.”
“Kodiwandae is a soft-hearted fool; he should have posed no threat without his power.”
“So it’s your contention that the wisdom of a god is something that mortals can easily overcome?”
Felbren bristled a little at this remark. “Certainly not. That is why someone of your caliber was contracted.”
“With all due respect, gods are the ones that make miracles. I specialize in finding solutions. Given the challenges present, I found the option most likely to succeed. In this case, even the best turned out to be not that likely.”
“I see. Well, excuses or not, you’ve failed me, Fixer.” Felbren took one last swallow of the whiskey and knocked the apple from the altar; he didn’t really care for fruit. The god began to consider what the best way to turn this human into an example would be.
“Actually, I haven’t failed you yet. The job isn’t over until Kodiwandae regains his power. That means they have to get to Denilale. That’s why I’m here; I thought of a solution that has a much better chance of stopping them.”
“Make sure it’s a good one, mortal; this will be your last chance.”
Instead of speaking, Lawrence reached into his bag and produced a clear canteen filled with sea water and a large pink pearl. He set both down on the bench beside him then looked at Felbren, whose face was growing steadily angrier.
“You dare come into my temple and attempt to capture me?”
“Capture? Never would such an idea occur to me,” Lawrence said quickly. “I was reading up on you, though. Funny thing about trickster gods: there’s a lot more information on how to dispel or stop them than there is about other gods. I read the story of how you broke a thousand pearls looking for a pink one to give to Alahai, how Iohalo cursed you in retribution so that if you ever drank sea water with a pink pearl in it, you would be sealed in the pearl for three full moons or until the pearl was broken. They even said a human who held that pearl would be able to use a trifle of your power.”
“Bringing up old wounds is not a way to lessen my wrath.”
“You want to stop Kodiwandae? This is the key. I’ve found a few stories where this weakness was used on you, and in many of them your captors would hop between the islands after it was over, going home and showing off the pearl or on to another adventure.”
“So?”
“So it seems Iohalo’s banishment from the ocean doesn’t apply when you are sealed in the pearl. It occurred to me the best way to contend with a god is with a stronger god.”
Felbren’s temper receded slightly; the mortal made a good point. He could always teleport back to his island, but leaving it was a rare opportunity. Those damnable punks who’d shanghaied him into the pearl before had indeed moved him across the waves without incurring the sea god’s wrath. There was still a large logistical problem to surmount, however.
“Suppose I did let you carry me to Denilale. A man such as yourself might be tempted to keep me sealed so as to use the small bit of my power for himself.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. While I won’t deny the prospect would be tempting for anyone, myself included, it takes a man like myself to rise above any temptations and keep the bigger goal in mind. If I screw you over, I get a few months of parlor tricks until the curse is released. If I uphold my end of the bargain, I get back my youth and a small mountain of gold, as we agreed.”
“Even a small bit of my power amounts to considerably more than parlor tricks,” Felbren corrected.
“Forgive me; I just meant it doesn’t compare to what I’d get from completing our deal.”
“You are a powerfully rational man.”
“I look at the risk and gain in a situation and determine the best course of action. In this case, you risk a few months of imprisonment, but you gain the chance to slow Kodiwandae’s ascension. I risk getting hurt or killed in the process, but I gain the chance at shedding some years off this tired old body.”
Felbren walked over to the bench and picked up the canteen, removing the cap with a simple twist. He took a small swig of the water, the salty contents telling him it indeed came from the ocean. He plucked the pink pearl from the bench and stared at the elderly mortal before him.
“If they have the pear, we’ll have to hurry. My island is the farthest from Denilale.”
“I’ve already got a fast boat waiting for us. We’ll beat them there by half a day at least.”
Felbren nodded and dropped the pearl into the canteen. He regarded it one last time then gave a shrug. The human was right; even if he betrayed Felbren, it would at most cost him a few months. What was that compared to a chance at Alahai’s heart? Felbren took a long, deep draw of the water, his body immediately growing less solid as his essence began to flow toward the pearl.
For Lawrence it was like what he always imagined something going into a black hole would look like. Felbren began flowing through the top of the canteen, his form extending like smoke then swirling about the pearl. As fast as it flowed, the pearl took it in at equal measure, the pink sphere giving off a gentle glow as it funneled an entire god into its depths. The whole process was over in fewer than five seconds, leaving the canteen to drop to the ground as the hand holding it was sucked away.
Lawrence carefully picked up the container then poured its contents across his hand. The pearl dropped into his wrinkled fingers and his hand closed around it. He felt gentle warmth coming from the object, one that suffused his whole body. Yes, it was easy to see why Felbren had been worried Lawrence would be tempted to keep him bound so as not to lose this feeling. That wasn’t going to happen, however; Lawrence always kept his eyes on the end-game.
It took him a few minutes to re-pack his items and leave the temple. In the time he’d been inside the rain had finally begun to pour in earnest. Lawrence reached from his umbrella then stayed his hand. Instead he clutched the pearl and willed a rain-proof dome into existence over his head. He took a tentative step outside and found the drops crashing against some invisible force before they could make contact with him. Lawrence smiled his terrifying smile: this he could get used to. He wouldn’t do it by simply keeping Felbren trapped in a pearl, though; that would be silly. Of course, he wasn’t going to settle for just his youth back, either; that would be naïve.
No, Lawrence had his own plan, one that was going swimmingly so far. Lawrence had devoured the myths of this island and believed he’d found quite the useful opportunity buried among the texts. A god would be ascending in Denilale tomorrow, all right, but it wouldn’t be Kodiwandae. That lovesick fool had squandered his opportunity. It was time for a new god to rise: one with vision, one with ambition, one who knew how to get things done. It was time for a god like Lawrence Farran.
* * *
“Still no ideas on why Lawrence would want the pear?”
Not a one. It’s only a scrap of my power, so it’s not as though he could eat it and gain more than a temporary smattering of magic. He’d need the ability to wield divine energy to actually use it to call Nature, and even then, without me present, whose favor would he be trying to gain? My best guess is that he merely doesn’t realize what it can and can’t do, so he’s chasing it in ignorance.
Clint suppressed a shudder as he remembered the older man’s calm, confident eyes. “He doesn’t strike me as the type to do things without proper research.”
When faced with the fantastical, many people have been known to make erroneous assumptions.
“I guess so.” Clint could have debated the point further; however, it wouldn’t have yielded anything useful. The group had bickered back and forth about Lawrence’s potential reasoning after Kod
i had stolen the truth from Justin’s mind. No one had landed on a single concrete theory, though Thunder had been adamant it was “Bad news, dudes.” They had the pear, at least, and it was hard to feel too concerned about anything else that may come their way in the afterglow of that particular triumph.
“So, how does it feel?” Clint sat on the dock, watching the sun begin to sink toward the horizon, a second light source in the form of a golden pear held firmly in his hand. The others were looking into obtaining a ride over to Denilale, but Clint had wanted a few minutes of rest. Using the voice had left his throat even sorer than the first time and he’d been left with a sense of vertigo for nearly five minutes afterward. Strangely, he’d begun to feel better almost as soon as Kaia had handed him Kodi’s pear.
Good. Familiar. Like I’ve filled in a piece of me I didn’t notice was empty.
“Sounds nice.” Clint turned the fruit over in his hands, amused at the gentle tingle that emanated wherever its skin pressed against his. “If you feel like that just from the pear, how do you think you’ll feel when you finally get your full power back?”
Big, expanded, powerful. It’s like going from being a rock drifting along in the river to being one of the currents. You become connected to a flow you can only suspect existed beforehand.
“Speaking as one of the rocks, I do have to say that sounds enjoyable.”
It is. It really is. Still, this experience has been enlightening.
Clint looked out at the steadily darkening ocean, where somewhere in its depths was a hammerhead shark with an impressive passion for beer. “It has been interesting.”
Very interesting. It’s also been fascinating to see life from the mortal point of view. For how little time you all get here, most of you pack quite a bit of living into it.
“Most of us?”
I’m not really telling you anything you don’t know when I say that this isn’t just the biggest adventure in your adult life, it’s your only one.
“And it’s pretty much over. All that’s left is to get to the temple and make the call.”
Barring any more involvement from Lawrence, it should be smooth sailing from here.
“Isn’t it considered bad luck to say that sort of thing? Like you’re challenging fate.”
Well, for one thing, I didn’t say it loud so I doubt it counts. Even if it does, I’m pretty sure such things don’t apply to gods.
“Let’s hope so.” Clint rose slowly from the dock and began heading toward the harbor master’s office where the others were negotiating enthusiastically. “I’ve got to get back home pretty soon.”
Yes, I saw your friend’s predicament when I was looking through your memories. I’m sorry for her illness.
“It’s okay. No one lives forever… well, none of us humans, at any rate.” Another person, most other people, would have had some bitterness in their tone at that remark. Clint did not. He didn’t feel jealousy or anger toward Kodiwandae for having something he never would. That would have required desire, and even now Clint smelled greasepaint and blood when he danced too close to that line.
Gods fall too. Endings and beginning are inevitable for all beings, save only for the Constants.
“Then I suppose the most we can do is make sure tomorrow is a spectacular beginning.”
I’ve heard worse ideas.
Clint put the pear in the backpack slung across his shoulders, the one that had formerly belonged to Justin before he and his brother had run screaming from the dock after Kodi’s mind probe. Clint didn’t want to explain the curious color of the fruit to any passers-by; he had a feeling his next day would already be full enough as it was.
18.
While Kenowai was a rural community with lush surroundings, Alendola was a more modern civilization that still prized its beaches. As the charter boat deposited Clint and his friends on Denilale, however, it became apparent that this island was composed of a few determined villages desperately pushing back a jungle. The vegetation seeped into the town, even near the port, purposely blurring the lines between where mankind ruled and where it had to tread softly. The port city was actually quite sprawling and cosmopolitan; however, the plethora of vines and bushes cluttering the roads made it feel disjointed, like several small villages might have happened to crop up right next to one another. The buildings were all stone: not the colorful mosaics of Alendola, but hand-carved granite that had been chosen for its durability rather than its aesthetic. These were homes and business that could weather everything from a monsoon to a tiger attack, and the scars lashed across the surfaces said quite plainly that many had done just that.
It was also notable that while Kenowai had the occasional upward slope that manifested in a hill, and Alendola was renowned for its gently rolling terrain, only Denilale could boast of its mountainous heights. It was at the peak of one such earthen spike that a large temple dedicated to the goddess of the land was kept by its people. In most cases these shrines were used to pray for ample growth among the land’s plants: this one was dedicated to asking for the vegetation to stay in check. The people had abundant fruits and vegetable provided by the ground; what they didn’t have were many areas where they could take their children for a walk without stepping into a lush green world that could easily turn into a deathtrap.
Finding a guide proved to be no real challenge; the locals were accustomed to tourists making trips over to their island in hopes of a greater spiritual experience. In a matter of hours, they’d gotten supplies and trekked most of the way up the carved path in the mountain’s face. There were occasional moments where the guides would stop them, listening to some noise unheard by those not accustomed to living lower on the food chain, then usher them forward rapidly.
Everyone was tense as they made their way; it seemed like after all that had happened it was unavoidable that some last hurdle would erupt in their path. So it was that as the temple came into view, many of them felt a mix of relief and mild disappointment flood through their systems.
We made it.
“We finally made it,” Clint said, staring at the impressive building. It was made of the same material as the other buildings, but this one had ornate carvings on its side, showing that it was for more than just function. This was a place of worship as well as a defendable outpost on high ground.
“This thing is legit,” Thunder complimented. He’d recovered nicely from his head injury, assuring the others he’d taken far worse blows to the head throughout the course of his life. This led to a lot of awkward coughing and staring at the ground as people tried to resist making an easy joke at the expense of the recently wounded.
“It is rather impressive,” April concurred.
“I did a study on the architectural practices of Denilalians that was inspired by seeing this temple,” Kaia said. “I wanted to know how they’d managed to craft something like this in such a remote location.”
“How’d they do it?” Falcon asked. “Some method for moving the stones up the hill using rolling logs?”
“Nope, turns out they did it the old fashioned way: a lot of time and a lot of blood.”
“Never underestimate the strength of the dedicated faithful,” Mano said. He’d been rather quiet since the day before. The others understood the reason without asking. He’d seen something beyond mortal comprehension when Clint and Kodi made the beer explode. He might have believed in his gods beforehand, but the absolute evidence that something greater than himself existed had caused a bit of internal reassessment. The only thing he’d actively done on the way over was buy another case of beer and pour it in the ocean as they sailed to Denilale. Thunder and, surprisingly enough, April had lent him a hand in the endeavor. No one ever saw the dark shape they knew was trailing beneath the waves, but they made sure to keep the beer flowing all the same.
“We should hurry, there is still ground to cover,” one of the three guides piped up. Kaia and Mano were able to pronounce their names, but the others had been lost after the fi
rst round of vowels. Fortunately, they’d been all business and hadn’t tried for small talk, which had kept the name confusion to a minimum. The group began plodding forward once more, the temple growing steadily larger in their view as they drew closer.
Clint felt a flurry of excitement swirl through him, one he was pretty sure belonged more to Kodi than him. The line between them seemed to be getting fuzzier by the day. Clint was ready to have his body back to being a single-occupancy vehicle, but he suspected he might miss the god’s more varied emotional palette. Plus, it was sort of nice always having someone to talk to. He imagined when this would be over: collecting his money and going back to Golden Acres, sitting in another office taking the blame for some business man who had royally screwed up or been screwed over.
“Maybe I should job hunt,” Clint mumbled under his breath.
Why? I think your profession is quite noble.
Clint snorted. “You think being a scapegoat for hire is noble?”
From what I saw looking through your memories, it seems like you give people second chances. That is always noble.
Clint mulled the different perspective over a bit. “I never looked at it that way.”
I’m sure the people you’ve saved have. They made mistakes, some honest, some probably less honest, but either way you give them an opportunity to do it over. That’s what you’re giving me, and I am very thankful for it.
“It’s no big deal.”
It actually is, and the sooner you see that, the happier you’ll be with the path you’ve chosen.
“I don’t think I’m-” Clint was interrupted by Thunder’s lanky arm curling around his shoulders.
“Bro, the locals aren’t newsed up on the current sitch. Might want to muffle the solo chatter.” Thunder’s voice was low and his tone friendly, but Clint took his point. They weren’t finished yet, and they were being led toward a holy site. People could be a bit touchy about whom they let into such places and someone out of his mind may not make the cut.