Diana Pho - Steampunk World

“Come on,” Eru taunted. “Let’s go chase those bastards back to the sea!”

Rito paused for a moment. One of the designs showed the very seat in which she sat, but the creature occupying it did not look…like her. Like the statue, its head was too big, its limbs too short, and its eyes narrow slits. Its form seemed to fit the bumps and ridges that made her squirm. Was this, then, the image of the real god?

There was no time to ponder this. She studied the drawings for a moment, coordinated them with the metal sticks, and then pulled the ones that seemed to make the legs move. A lurching first step rewarded her.

Shang felt the vibration first. He sat in the shade of the trees that ringed the village, sipping water brought from a sweet nearby spring. The village’s men were now locked within a stockade, hastily but sturdily built by his crew. The women cowered in the hut, awaiting their fate. He enjoyed knowing they all watched him, awaiting the signal that would begin their degradation. He could not wait until an entire kingdom felt the same way.

But the repeating rumbles broke his euphoria. He stood up and strode to the center of the village clearing. The sky was blue and cloudless, but a storm could be approaching from the other side of the island. Perhaps it was the same storm that had nearly destroyed them, seeking a second chance. Let it come, he thought.

Teng joined him. “Are those drums?”

“Too regular to be thunder,” Shang said.

“They said there was no one else on the island. Only them.”

“Perhaps they lied. But whoever it is, they have no idea what they’re walking into. Rouse the crew.”

As Teng turned and was about to shout orders, there was a high shriek of terror. Not from one of the villagers, though; it came from Loonk, one of their toughest and most vicious swordsmen. He stood frozen in mid-step, pointing at the sky.

Shang and Teng looked up together as an immense shadow fell over the clearing.

Within the walking statue, Rito saw her village from high above on the glowing rectangular window. She recognized it, yet had never considered what it must appear like to the birds that flew overhead. The view mesmerized her.

In the smaller window, Eru grinned as he said, “There’s a control that lets you speak with the god’s voice; it was the first thing I figured out how to work. Scared away all the birds. Watch this!”

Shang and Teng exchanged a look. They had battled together for years, but never faced anything like this. Already the other crew members were fleeing for the jungle, screaming like the women in the hut.

Not just one, but two of the stone gods they’d seen from the ship now towered over the village. Were the others coming as well? Had they been summoned, or did they simply know, as gods did, that their worshippers were in danger?

The god of the natives was made of stone, with a gigantic head and two long-fingered arms. A deep voice boomed from its unmoving lips: “Release my people!”

Shang ordered, “Bring me the elder!”

Teng, his eyes still on the god, ran over to the stockade. The old man was tied to the outside so that he could translate at a moment’s notice, and Teng half pushed, half dragged him over to Shang. Even the elder looked terrified.

“What did it say?” Shang asked, hoping his voice didn’t tremble.

“The great omai ordered you to release us.”

“And if I don’t? Go ahead, ask. What happens if I don’t?”

The elder drew breath and yelled up, “He asks, what will happen if he doesn’t release your people?”

A bolt of what could only be called lightening shot from the protruding navel of the god and tore through the trunks of a dozen trees. There were more screams.

“Eru!” Rito cried. “What was that? You could’ve hurt someone!”

“I was careful,” Eru said, still delighted.

“They’re not afraid,” Rito pointed out. “Not the leaders.”

“Then we have to be scarier.”

Rito started to protest, but then she had another idea. She looked at the drawings on the wall, carefully considered which sticks to move to make the statue do what she wished, and set to work.

“One god is leaving,” Teng said.

“Of course,” Shang said, puffing up with pride. “Not even a god dares oppose me.” He grabbed Arto by the hair. “Tell the other to go back where it came from, or I’ll kill every man, woman and child in this village. Tell it!”

The elder relayed the information.

The remaining god began to stride through the jungle, circling the village.

“What’s it doing?” Teng asked.

“I don’t know,” Shang muttered, still clutching the elder by the hair.

Suddenly, with surprising speed, the god reached down into the jungle, then stood again. In one hand it held one of Shang’s cowardly men, who screamed as if he’d been castrated in battle. Olon was his name: a rigger, worthless in a fight.

“I can kill your people as well,” the god said, and the elder dutifully translated.

“Kill them,” Shang said. “I do not need their worship. Do you need yours?”

Teng looked at his commander with a mix of admiration and concern.

Eru was no killer, Rito knew. He was bluffing. She pushed her sticks more rapidly, driving toward her destination.

“Rito, where are you going?” he demanded.

“I have an idea,” she said. “Make sure they know what I’m doing.”

The god raised Olon high overhead. The sailor continued to scream, clutching at the stone fingers while simultaneously looking around for anything that might help. Then he froze.

In the distance, the other god strode into the water, toward the Tiger’s Claw .

“The ship!” he cried down to Shang. “It’s going to sink the ship!”

The thick sand under the water caught the statue’s heavy feet, making each step more difficult than Rito expected. The statue wobbled, and Rito had to quickly shift the rods to keep its balance. The water was as deep as the statue’s chin when she reached the anchored ship.

No one had been left aboard, so she had no worries about killing anyone. She raised one arm, curled the long fingers into a fist and brought it down heavily on the vessel’s middle. The blow crashed through the wood, splitting it into two halves. The anchored half continued to float, while the other spun and sank almost at once.

“Ha!” Rito cried in triumph. “Now they’re stuck here!”

She tried to turn the statue, but the sand held firm. Instead of the sound of stone grinding, there was a shriek of metal, and something popped loudly as it broke. The statue listed to one side, then with a great splash fell forward into the water, between the halves of the broken ship, and landed in a great puff of silt on the bottom.

Still clutched in the statue’s hand, Olon cried, “They’ve sunken the ship! We’re marooned here!”

Arto looked at Sheng. “You’re now an islander, just as we are. Except you have no idea how to survive here. You don’t know which berries to eat, which snakes are poisonous, which plants leave a stinging rash. If you kill us, you won’t live a week.”

Shang, his face white with rage, punched the old man. “You dare to threaten me? I will kill every man on this island, even my own, before I will beg help from an uncivilized—”

He froze, and looked down at his chest. A sword protruded from it, through his heart. Then it withdrew out his back, and he fell.

Teng, holding the bloody weapon, said tiredly, “He meant it. He’d kill us all.” To Arto he said, “So we’re now part of your tribe, it seems. I suppose we have to prove you can trust us.” He turned the sword and handed it, hilt first, to Arto.