-
The interior of the Mechanical Goddess's palace was different from every other palace or castle Malock had ever been to. There were no paintings of famous ancestors or heroes or gods, no sculptures representing any of the aforementioned famous people, not even a special vase on a pedestal that could be broken at any moment.
The halls were not wide and open, either, but cramped and confining. Complicated systems of gears, belts, and pipes, all clinking and clanking and steaming, covered the walls, ceiling, and even the floor, which made walking difficult. It was like walking through a large machine, the parts intertwined so exactly that it was impossible to tell where one part began and the other ended. Small, bright lights flickered on the ceiling and walls, barely illuminating the floor.
Malock and his party stuck close together, not sure what parts of the palace were friendly and what weren't, while Hana made her way through the complicated mess of machinery like she was taking a stroll through the park. It was clear that she knew her way around this place, probably because she had served the Mechanical Goddess for so long, but Malock had a feeling that even if he were to live here for years, he wouldn't be able to make his way through without tripping a few times.
The constant sound and motion of the gears, belts, and pipes made conversation impossible. The gears creaked and cranked, the belts whoomped and whomped, and the pipes hissed and shook. The hallways smelled strongly of oil, causing Malock to cover his mouth and nose with a handkerchief he had brought along, but that did little to make the air more breathable for him.
While walking through the palace, they passed a group of automatons building something on a conveyor belt. What they were building, Malock wasn't sure, as the group walked by too quickly for him to stay and watch, but he thought they must have been building more automatons because he saw bits and pieces of other automatons lying on the belt.
Finally, after walking for what felt like hours, they arrived in front of a surprisingly normal-looking wooden door. Hana walked over to a control panel next to it and input a complicated code that Malock couldn't follow; the next moment, the door swung open inwards and Hana bowed.
“After you,” said Hana, gesturing at the open door.
Malock exchanged a look with the other hunters before he stepped through the door. The others followed and soon they were all standing inside a plain dining room. It was less claustrophobic than the rest of the palace, but the terrible scent of oil was still present.
A long dining table, covered with a variety of exotic dishes that Malock couldn't identify, was in the center of the room, with about six chairs on either side and one at each end. A white table cloth lay on top of it, which caught and reflected the light from the chandelier hanging from the ceiling. A single window stood open near the ceiling, well above their heads, and there was no other entrance or exit aside from the door behind them.
The door closed behind them as Hana entered last, spreading her arms wide as she did so. “Welcome to the dining room of the Mechanical Goddess. Please feel free to sit down and enjoy some delicious food, courtesy of yours truly.”
Malock whirled around and pointed a finger at Hana. “All right. What's the catch?”
“Catch?” said Hana, folding her arms behind her back. “I have no idea what you're talking about.”
Malock walked straight up to her and poked her in the chest. “You know what I mean. The Mechanical Goddess has gathered us all here for a reason. Is she going to eat us? I know the southern gods love to eat mortals.”
Hana pushed Malock's finger away, looking disgusted as she did so. “Eat you? Hardly. Unlike the rest of her siblings, my mistress has lost her taste for mortal flesh. Nowadays, it's oil and steam for her. She says it tastes better than flesh and blood.”
“Still confused here,” said Jenur. “Why would she ever want to eat us? Gods don't eat mortals. That much I know.”
Malock ignored Jenur's confusion, still looking at Hana. “So ... you're saying that she really does just want to have us over for dinner?”
Hana nodded. “Yes. As I said, my mistress is a gracious host. She knows how hungry you are, and can't stand to see you all looking so thin and sick.”
“That food does smell awfully good,” said Aseth, rubbing his stomach as he looked over at it, “even though I don't even know what most of it is.”
“It's the finest food you will ever find on the entire southern seas,” Hana assured him, looking over Malock's shoulder as she did so. “Please feel free to eat. I can assure you that it is all mortal-friendly.”
“Don't change the subject,” said Malock. “I don't get what's going on here and neither I nor any of my crew are going to touch even one chicken leg until we find out what is.”
Hana pouted. “What do you want to know? You know the Mechanical Goddess rules this island, know she is friendly to mortals, and know that she's offering you the best meal you've probably had in a few months. There's really nothing else to say.”
“Nothing else to say?” said Malock. “I doubt it. The ice walls, the mechanical palace, the automatons ... everything is fishy. Forgive me for not trusting a southern deity, especially one that acts inexplicably friendly to mortals.”
Hana folded her arms across her chest. “What makes you think that knowledge will help you, if I choose to share it?”
“I don't know if it will,” said Malock. “But I do know enough about the southern gods not to blindly trust them.”
Hana brushed her hair out of her eyes, sighed, and said, “All right. I suppose it wouldn't hurt. Besides, your food needs time to set. The fried octopus limbs in particular should be eaten at least an hour after being taken out of the oven.”
Malock glanced over his shoulder at the table and said, “That's what those things are? I thought they were digger wings.”
Hana walked around Malock, tossing him an annoyed glared as she did so. Then she stopped near the table and said, “Let's begin with the ice walls, then.”
“Yeah,” said Malock. “Tell us about them. We've been dying to know.”
Hana leaned against the table, scratching her chin as she did so. “Those were constructed years and years ago by Xocion, the God of Ice. He originally ruled this island, mostly because it's little more than an icy wasteland. I wasn't there when he ruled it—wasn't even born yet—but I've heard stories about how Xocion created the ice walls as a way to shut out the rest of the world so he could rest.”
“Ah,” said Malock. “I wonder why Bifor never mentioned that.”
Hana glanced at the window, so quickly that Malock dismissed the movement as being his imagination. “Probably because that was before the time of humans or at least before humans started worshiping the gods like you do now. Not everything that happens on this world is related to you humans, you know. Plenty goes on that you don't even know about and that you never will know about simply because it does not concern you.”
“Nice dig at us humans,” said Jenur, rolling her eyes. “Real subtle.”
“Thank you, human,” said Hana, her voice positively dripping with sarcasm now. “You have once again proven to me why I prefer to work with southern gods over northern gods—less humans and the few humans that do come down this far usually become dinner.”
“Still not sure what the difference between northern and southern gods is, by the way,” Jenur said.
“No time to explain,” said Malock, waving off Jenur's question. “Now, Hana, you said Xocion designed this to keep others away? If so, then how did the Mechanical Goddess end up becoming its ruler?”
Hana yawned, like she was bored, but he saw her eyes flicker to the window again, almost as if she was waiting for something to happen. “The Godly War happened, as you very well know. The War ended with the Powers dividing Martir between the northern and southern gods. Since Stalf is in the southern seas, Xocion had to relocate. Wasn't very happy about it, from what I heard, but the Treaty is immutable and so he had to move out. The Mechanical Goddess t
ook it very quickly, seeing it as the ideal spot for her domain.”
Malock quirked an eyebrow. “I would think a mechanical deity would like an industrialized island, filled with factories, better than a mostly undisturbed natural island.”
Hana scratched the back of her neck. “Sure, she would, but really, the Mechanical Goddess prefers her solitude. She's not a big fan of living beings, to be honest, and the only living beings on Stalf are the various wild animals you guys were hunting, animals that can't talk and aren't interested in bothering a goddess.”
“So ... is the Mechanical Goddess an actual machine?” said Jenur.
“Hardly,” said Hana. “She's a living being, like the rest of the gods, even though she sometimes doesn't act like it. She simply looks mechanical, although I admit that she's also a lot less prone to injury than the other gods are, due to her tougher-than-nails skin.”
“What about the automatons?” said Malock. “Where did those come from?”
“They're the Mechanical Goddess's children, of course,” said Hana. “Born from her womb, like any infant. They live here, under her protection, doing whatever she asks, living life. They're rather strange, but rarely get into trouble and are generally helpful so I never complain about them.”
“That conveyor belt back there,” said Malock, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “Were those automatons building more of their siblings?”
“What they were building is not any of your business, prince,” said Hana in her sweetest voice, tinged with just a hint of danger. “All I can tell you is that the Mechanical Goddess considers them her children and is very protective of them, like any good mother would be. It's a good thing you didn't harm any of them, otherwise you would have found yourself being shredded to pieces inside the Maw.”
“The what?”
“Not important,” said Hana. She clapped her hands together and said, “But what is important is that I have answered your questions, I believe. So why don't you sit down and have some dinner? You all look very hungry, starving even. Eat as much as you like. Hell, take some back to your ship with you, for your crew, when you leave.”
Aseth and Kocas took a few steps forward, their expressions hungry, but Malock held up a hand.
“Hold on,” said Malock, eying Hana suspiciously. “Something is still off.”
“And what might that be?” said Hana.
“Everything,” said Malock. “If we're just guests, then why is the door locked? Why are we not allowed to leave? And why do you keep glancing at the window like you're expecting it to rain?”
Hana pushed herself off the table and said, “Well, I guess you were going to find out eventually. They should be here any minute now.”
“Who should be here?” Malock said. “More guests?”
“The true guests, of course,” said Hana. “You probably haven't met them before, but rest assured that they will not treat you badly.”
“Oh,” said Malock, sighing with relief. “For a moment there I thought the other guests were going to kill us.”
Hana smiled. “Oh, they will most definitely kill you. Just not in a painful way, you get me?”
Malock wanted to say that no, he didn't 'get' her, but he was interrupted by the sound of a lightning bolt striking somewhere nearby, causing him and his hunters to jump. The clap of thunder was followed by a lightning bolt flashing through the window, going over the table, and slamming against the wall on the other end of the room, leaving a burnt mark where it had struck. The lightning bolt immediately stopped, floating and flashing in the air as it turned toward them.
Not a second after that, a whirlwind of leaves, thick and sharp at the edges, also flew in through the window. The leaves floated above the table, taking the shape of a skull, the eyeholes focused firmly and dangerously on Malock and the others.
Before Malock could completely register that thing's appearance, a thick white cloud squeezed through the open window. Its shape constantly shifted, at times resembling a human, other times a goat, but generally retaining a shapeless form like most clouds.
Hana spread her arms again, gesturing at the guests. “Meet the Cloud God, God of Clouds; the Leaf Goddess, Goddess of Leaves; and the Lightning Goddess, Goddess of Lightning and Electricity. They all had a very long, very tiring journey to get here, so as you can imagine, they're quite hungry ... hungry, that is, for human flesh, which I see you have plenty of.”
Malock took a step back, his heart failing him at the sight of the three deities. Jenur was visibly trembling, her hand automatically reaching for the knife that was no longer there. Aseth had actually fainted, while Kocas looked like she would rather be anywhere else than here.
Hana brought her hands together, her eyes glinting with glee. She turned to the deities and said, “Now, honored guests of the Mechanical Goddess, dinner is served.”
-
“Kinker?”
The old man looked up and saw Deddio standing before him. The younger man was a mess, with a bloody gash running down his left arm and his hair ripped off completely in several places. Nonetheless, he was still alive, which Kinker silently thanked Kano for.
“Deddio?” said Kinker, pushing himself just high enough off the floor so he could get a good look at his fellow fisherman. “What are you doing down here? Shouldn't you be top deck fighting the baba raga?”
Deddio shook his head. “Was about to ask you the same question. The battle is getting worse. Another dozen baba raga showed up. Don't know how many people we've lost, but I figure the number is grim. I came down here to look for any weapons I could use.”
“Is the Tusked God still there?” Kinker said.
“He is,” said Deddio. “He's just watching us fight his followers like it's a play. He hasn't done much yet, but I'm thinking he's getting restless because he's taken to picking off random sailors whenever he feels like it.”
“Not good,” Kinker said. “But he won't be that way for long. Help me up. We need to get to the cannons. Now.”
Deddio looked at Kinker in confusion. “The cannons? What do you intend to do, blow the ship sky high?”
“No,” said Kinker through gritted teeth. “Do you know how to work the cannons?”
“Sure,” said Deddio. “It's what I was originally trained to do, in fact. Do you need my help?”
“Yes,” said Kinker. “Because we're gonna blow that god straight to the bottom of the sea.”
Deddio's face became even paler than before. “You're saying we should fire a cannon at a god.”
“Preferably multiple, but yes,” said Kinker. “It's the only way we can get him off our asses. You in or not?”
Deddio put his knuckle against his lips, as he always did whenever he was uncertain about something. “I don't know. That sounds awfully risky. What if it doesn't work?”
“Do you have any better ideas?” Kinker snapped, not even bothering to put up a pretense of civility anymore. “If we do nothing, he'll smash the ship into splinters and kill everyone on it. At least this has a chance of helping us survive, even if the odds are low.”
“Fine,” said Deddio, holding up his hands in defeat. “You're absolutely right. I don't know have any better ideas and honestly that sounds a hell of a lot better than getting mauled by a baba raga.”
“Good man,” said Kinker. “Now help me. Carefully, now, because my back hurts.”
Deddio was by Kinker's side in an instant. He draped one of Kinker's arms around his shoulders and hefted the fisherman to his feet. Kinker let out a loud groan of pain, causing Deddio to say, “Kinker, you all right?”
“Doesn't matter,” Kinker said. “We need to get to the cannon room as quickly as possible. No delays.”
Fortunately, Deddio was a good listener. And despite being badly wounded himself, Deddio managed to keep them both upright, though their progress was inevitably slow thanks to Kinker's almost complete inability to stand on his own. Kinker tried his best to help, but he was so weak and tired and in pain from his
climbing up and down the ladders that he could not do much except try to be less heavy.
The two fishermen made their way down the hall, Kinker's feet half-dragging across the floor. The sounds of battle coming from above were barely muffled by the boards above them. A small drop of blood fell on Kinker's head as they walked, but whether it was the blood of a friend or foe, he could not tell. He just hoped that his plan would work, that the cannons were still in one piece.
And, as it turned out, they were. They came upon the cannon room, which thankfully turned out to have not been destroyed. Unfortunately, the cannon windows were closed, probably due to how rarely the cannons were used, and the cannons themselves—about a dozen in all—were lined up against the opposite wall, with barrels of gunpowder and boxes of cannonballs stacked nearby. One box of cannonballs had fallen over, but the vast majority of them somehow seemed to have remained steady despite the relentless attacks by the Tusked God's followers.
Deddio let Kinker down near the door and said, “You stay here while I prepare a cannon.”
“Can't you prepare multiple?” Kinker asked.
Deddio shook his head. “Not without ten other men. It will probably take me several minutes just to prepare one.”
Kinker cursed. “Just do it as quickly as you can, then. Is there anything I can do in the meantime?”
Deddio pulled out the top drawer of a nearby chest of drawers and thrust it into Kinker's lap. “Look for the matches. We're going to need them if we're going to blow that damn god to hell.”
Kinker nodded as he frantically searched through the drawer. It seemed like everything in the ship was in this drawer, from a piece of paper that appeared to be part of a map to a handful of gunpowder that got up his nose and made him sneeze. There was a little bit of everything except, it seemed, the matches themselves.
The Mad Voyage of Prince Malock Page 24