The Duelist 7, page 25
Even now, when I closed my eyes, I could see the vivid chrome irises of the black and green mega-koi. I’d begged it in my moment of need, and it had saved all of us as well as The Soaring Light by swallowing us whole in its gaping mouth. By doing this, the Sacred Fish was able to protect us from the hurricane, and it even brought us closer to Terr so we wouldn’t have to sail the broken boat any farther than we had to.
When I explained this all to the elders across from me, they both regarded me with matching astonished expressions.
“I have never known of such a thing,” Madam Morta finally said. “You have already been chosen by the Sacred Children of Mercedes in a way that is unheard of. But yes, it indeed might be the debt you are to pay back by saving the descendant of Mo’ah.”
“What do I need to do?” I asked. If I’d truly been called by this mysterious woman to help, then that must mean she was truly in trouble for the Sacred Fish named Mo’ah to cash in this debt.
“You must find the Lakuna she is in,” Madam Morta said. “Which actually shouldn’t be too hard considering there’s only one where the Lakuna descendants live.”
“There’s only one Lakuna?” I asked.
“Only one that still has life in it,” she amended. “The Lakuna Village by The Rock Quarry is your best bet, but it has been taken by the Overseer. He was appointed by the Asher Council to oversee the production of crystals being mined by the Tatabo Omites who live in the plains. He has appointed himself the Mayor of Lakuna Village and lives like a gluttonous swine off the backs of the villagers.
“This Overseer sounds like a fuck-ass,” Rylan said with a furious scowl, and I didn’t even correct him on his language because, yeah, he fucking did.
But I also made a mental note to curse less around him. Or at least teach him how to curse properly. One of the two.
“He used to be a benevolent man and would work with our people so we weren’t being overtaxed, but in the recent seasons, he has grown mad with power.” Elmer signed. “We were forced to cut off from our Tatabo brothers in the plains because the Overseer started acting more like a slave-driver. That is why you had a less than warm greeting when you ran into Ozzy. He thought you were one of the Overseer’s henchmen.”
“Ozzy, huh,” I said as I remembered the large sloth-man with the cyclops hood. “Remind me to thank him for not smashing our heads in.”
“You can thank him yourself because I imagine you’ll be needing someone by your side to make it to the Village,” the bat-woman said. “I’m sure he will fight anyone else if they try to volunteer as a way of making amends for attacking you.”
“He really doesn’t have to do that,” I said. “From what it sounds like, he’s the main reason why Rylan and I are still alive.”
“It is his debt to pay because his brother is under your employ,” Elmer signed for Morta to translate.
“Arvid is Ozzy’s brother?” I asked, and Rylan and I exchanged looks. “It really is fine, though. I threatened him, too, if I recall correctly.”
“You totally did,” Ry snickered. “It was funny because you were like, ‘I’m gonna fight you once there stops being two of you,’ and then you passed out.”
“I did not!” I said and playfully shoved him in the shoulder. “You’re super lucky. There’s not many people I would take that crap from.”
“Hah, it was totally true! You were even cross-eyed!” he joked back and tried to dodge my hand, but my reach was too long, and I ended up poking him in the ribs so he would laugh even harder.
Elmer and Madam Morta looked on with fond expressions in their milky eyes as I looped my son into a headlock for a noogie.
His laughter started out as that deep belly laugh but abruptly seized up painfully in his lungs like he suddenly had tuberculosis.
I immediately stopped my roughhousing and supported him by the shoulders, but his coughing continued on far longer than it should have.
“Rylan?” I placed a flat palm on his back in the middle of his shoulder blades as his face turned beet-red. “Breathe, buddy, breathe.”
Finally, he gasped in a rusty breath, and when he removed his hand from his mouth, his face went as pale as mine probably did.
Because, there in Rylan’s cupped palm, was a small but unmistakable pool of blood.
Chapter 21
“Why can’t I go?” Rylan asked me for the hundred thousandth time as he watched me pack forlornly from his position on the side of his bed.
Since I was mostly recovered, the Okoba people moved me into the guest suite Rylan had been staying in since we got here. It was a bit bigger than my sick room, with two beds and two wardrobes full of modest clothes we were allowed to use.
In lieu of answering his question, I pointed to a spot of dried blood that had dribbled onto his light-gray tunic after his incredible coughing fit. “That’s why.”
“But I feel fine!” he argued. “I just laughed too hard. It happens to everyone! Who says this is that stupid curse thing?”
“You don’t hack up blood for nothing,” I said while I looked over the canvas and twine that came with the pack to see if it was in good repair.
Lakuna Village was only about a solid day’s walk east from the Okoba Forest, but if it decided to rain at all, we would be forced to stop and camp.
According to Madam Morta, rainstorms on Om were no joke.
“It was the only time it happened, and I really do feel fine,” Rylan grumbled.
“Elder Elmer told us it’s a slow-acting curse, so it doesn’t matter that you feel fine now, you’re gonna start to feel it soon,” I explained with more patience than I felt.
“But you’ll totally help that girl long before I’ll even feel it, watch!” he said.
“As much as I dig your faith in me, you don’t know that for certain,” I sighed and buckled up the pack. “And I really can’t be worried about you while I’m trying to do this. You’ll be a distraction to me, and I can’t afford that. We’ve been over this.”
“You don’t know that,” he challenged. “Maybe if I am there to help, it’ll go faster.”
“I’m done talking about this,” I said with a huff and slung the pack over my shoulders. “You need to stay here where Meelo can keep an eye on you in case you get worse. Which you will.”
“But it’s a slow-acting curse, like you said.” He followed me out of our shared suite like an annoying little fly. “We’ve been here almost five days, and the only thing that happened was the blood thing.”
“Ry--” I attempted to cut in, but he steamrolled over me.
“Madam Morta even said the Village wasn’t that far away so we should be there long before I start to feel really bad, and--” he rambled, but I stopped in the corridor and gripped his shoulder.
“Rylan!” I snapped. “You are not coming, and that is final. There’s no knowing how rapidly you could deteriorate, and your well-being is not something I need to have constantly gnawing on my mind like a pesky little rat.”
His expression shuttered as his mouth snapped shut, and I knew I’d maybe gone a little too far when he stepped away from the hand I had on his shoulder.
“I get it,” he muttered.
“Rylan…” I sighed and tried to place my hand on his arm, but he took another step back.
“I’ll stay here so I’m not a pest,” he said flatly.
I bit my lip at the tone of his voice and tried to figure out how to soften the jaggedness my own worry and distraction were causing me, but there really was nothing I could say.
There were times I needed to put my foot down for his well-being, and I didn’t need to explain myself to him. He just had to deal with it, and when it came to something this serious, I was worried if I showed any signs of weakness, he might think I was softening to his idea, so I let my words be what they were.
“I’ll be back sooner than you think,” I promised and ruffled his hair like usual, but the gesture was awkward and forced.
“Okay,” he said, and before I could say anything else, he turned stiffly on his heels and went back to our room.
I watched him go with a gusty sigh.
Parenting angsty teenagers was never a walk in the park, but I loved him enough to endure the attitude and do what I had to for his own good.
“They might not appreciate our decision for them now, but in time they will,” Madam Morta’s sage-like voice sounded from behind me, and I pulled my eyes away from the closed door of our rooms.
“I sure hope so,” I said as I followed her down to the base of the large tree where the bonfire was still blazing away even higher now that night had settled in.
The nine-foot-tall form of Ozzy stood out easily near the large arched doorway where Elder Elmer was already waiting.
I slowed in my approach so I could watch the two sloth-men conversing in that strange wordless way the Omites had with their gestures and signs, and I hoped I was able to at least pick up the basics because the journey was going to feel a lot longer if I couldn’t adequately communicate with my traveling companion.
“Brightwooood,” Elder Elmer droned in his worn-leather voice.
“Elder.” I nodded. “I was wondering if there was a weapons’ cache I could peruse. I’m afraid when I ‘left’ home, I left without any defenses.”
“The Om-folk don’t use weapons because they have no need for them,” the bat-woman explained.
As if to demonstrate, Ozzy raised his hand, brandished his three sharp sloth-claws, and clicked them together to prove his point.
“Ah,” I said. “I suppose I will just have to fashion something like a dagger or a spear on the road.”
When I said this, I was amused to see Ozzy turn slowly but pointedly on one of his large feet. “Gooooooo nooooow.”
I’d never seen an impatient sloth before, and the incongruous sight before me made me crack a smile. “I guess I’d better follow him.”
“You should,” Morta agreed. “He may not look it, but Ozrid can cover quite a lot of ground when he puts his mind to it.”
“Got it,” I said when I spied the big guy waiting at the large double doors that were in the process of unlocking about a hundred wooden locks, and he was staring like he could make them go faster if he just glared hard enough. “Any other advice about the land of Om I need to know about?”
“Other than the scourge that comes with the Red Sky, the creatures of Om are docile and either eat plants or rocks,” the bat-woman said. “However, as you may have noticed, everything on this island is quite big, so even though the creatures have no interest in you, they will defend their territories if they need to.”
“Any aggressive species I should especially steer clear of?” I questioned as I gripped the straps of my pack with hands that were already beginning to sweat. Going out to traipse through an unknown forest with the threat of a Red Sky Event was bad enough, and to leave the sanctuary of the ‘Home Tree’ without a blade or my crossbow was even harder, so I wanted to be prepared as much as humanly possible.
“All of them can be aggressive when they feel threatened, but especially stay away from the spiny-beasts,” she cautioned. “They live under the roots of the Okoba trees and do not like loud noises.”
“Okay, spiny-beasts don’t like loud noise,” I said aloud for the benefit of my own mental checklist. “And what do they look like?”
“They are masters at camouflage, and they are known for their eight legs,” she said.
“Oh…” The little wind in my sails vanished at the thought of what basically translated to Huge-Ass Invisible Spiders with Noise Phobias.
Awesome.
“Do not fret,” the bat-woman said. “Ozzy is good at identifying their nests.”
“Good for him, but I’m not sure what good that does me since he doesn’t seem to like me all that much,” I said as we both watched the sloth-man snort at me over his shoulder with a scowl. Now that the door was finally open to the night, I knew he was telling me to get a move on. “I wouldn’t put it past him to lead me into a nest just for taking my sweet time.”
“He is obligated--” Morta began, but I cut her off.
“Obligated does not mean willing,” I said with an arched eyebrow, and she conceded the point with a chuckle.
“He is cantankerous at times, but he is loyal to a fault,” she assured me with a matronly pat on my elbow. “The only other advice I have for you is try not to get separated in the mist. It has a tendency to play tricks on even the sharpest minds.”
“Take care of Rylan for me,” I said, and she nodded her white head.
“He is in good hands,” she vowed.
“Thank you,” I said, and with a final glance at Elder Elmer’s serene face, I turned and followed Ozzy into the light fog.
The trek onward was about as scintillating as I was expecting when traveling with Mr. Grumpy through a landscape I could hardly see through the darkness and mist. Logically, I understood the need to get as quick of a start as possible due to Rylan’s deteriorating condition, but the boredom combined with my natural circadian rhythm was starting to make me yawn more times than I took a breath.
About the fifth jaw-cracking yawn in a row, which gained me a dirty look from my companion, I decided to set my mind on getting Ozzy to crack his self-imposed silence. Maybe if he ended up liking me just a little bit, he could help me find a good sharp rock or stick I could fashion into a quarterstaff, so I began making banal commentary as we hiked along.
It started out as a steady stream of idle observations that I tried to turn into a game of I Spy, but the sloth-man was supremely unimpressed by my attempt to interact with him, so it ended up being a game against myself, which got old super quick.
After that, I just started talking about random stuff to see if there were any topics that might penetrate his tough, unsociable exterior. I covered a gamut of things from weather, to plants, to animals, and then even to cooking because I thought if he was really related to Arvid, then they might have at least that in common.
However, nothing I rambled about seemed to have any effect, so I gave up and just talked about whatever entered my mind.
I didn’t know when I caught on to it myself, but at some point my random stream of consciousness was no longer all that random, and I wasn’t sure when it was exactly that I started talking about my family.
Of course, I described my wives and Amaya first, since I was really missing them. Then I moved on to describing Nata Isle and all the things I missed about it as well as what my two estates were like with Mr. Jenner, the raccoon-brothers, and even Ms. Vela.
Nothing seemed to penetrate Ozzy’s shell, and he kept up his steady pace through the forest until I got around to talking about Arvid.
I didn’t notice it at first, but when I relayed the prank he pulled on me with the powerful Omite aphrodisiac dubbed Marriage Porridge, Ozzy slowed somewhat as if he was listening. And when I laughed at the forgone and rather frisky conclusion of that story, I could have sworn I saw the right corner of his mouth twitch as if he was struggling not to smile.
I saw my chance and took my shot.
“Sooo, you and Arvid are brothers, huh?” I asked.
The sloth-man came to a deliberate stop and glared down at me with a hint of a growl. “Sssshhhhhh!”
“Woah, alright,” I said as I held up my hands. “You don’t have to answer that--”
“Noooo,” he said and jabbed a claw at the ground where we were both walking. “Roooooots. Sssshhhh.”
I followed his gaze to the ground to our right, and when I raised my Stonelight, I was able to see the roots at the base of the nearest tree.
Most of the silent monoliths smoothly tapered down to the ground so their roots weren’t visible, but the tree Ozzy was pointing to was a different story. Instead of smooth ground, the roots of the tree were bulging up through the ground like veins.
My eyes widened when I remembered what Madam Morta told me, and I looked back at the sloth-man with realization.
Yes, his gaze seemed to say. Spiny-beasts.
I nodded to let him know I understood what he was trying to convey, and then I stopped when it occurred to me we sort of did the talking without words thing, and Ozzy didn’t seem ticked off.
The rest of our walk before we settled for the night was spent in silence, but I had the ghost of a grin the entire way.
I was confident I could wear him down with enough time, so I decided to give the big guy a break from my incessant chatter. We set up camp against the broad back of a non-infested tree in companionable silence, and I discovered we had a good rhythm. Going by the lack of Ozzy’s usual scowl as he tended to the fire, I figured he was chill with my presence, so I occupied myself with honing a piece of that jagged flat rock that seemed to be everywhere.
In fact, I actually underestimated how chill my travel companion had become, and I startled slightly when he spoke.
“Aaaaaarrrviiid?” Ozzy asked in a way that sounded like he was trying to sound casual.
“Yeah? What about him?” I asked just as casually and made sure to focus on my sharpening.
“Heee isss… goooood?”
I chanced a glance at him and saw him concentrating a little too hard on whatever he had bubbling in the pot.
“Yeah, he’s pretty good,” I said. “I haven’t known him for too long, but he’s a part of a good group of people I trust.”
Ozzy nodded slowly as he stirred something that might have been… stew?
“Heeee issss… haaaaappy?” he asked.
“Yeah, I think he’s pretty happy,” I said. “Why do you ask?”
The sloth-man huffed as he stirred the stew a little more vigorously, like it could help him find the words or something. “Maaaaaannny mooooons siiiinccceee…”
He made eye contact and held my gaze in a way that felt different than before.
“It’s been a while since you’ve seen him, yeah?” I completed for him, and he nodded. “Do you mind if I ask you why?”
“Hmmm,” Ozzy sighed with a frown. “Weeeee claaaaassssh.”
