It turns out that a very normal looking tropical island is not what it appears to bel. Several tunnels inside the World Tree open out into various places on the island. The island is home to an evil chameleon wyrm with a mechanized zombified army of unfortunate creatures. It is also home to an ancient race of glow worms. The evil Chameleon wyrm was in the process of removing the princess’ heart of flesh to replace it with an eternal mechanical heart when the Viking found his way out of the World Tree and onto the stage of the Chameleon’s drama. He was able to defeat the wyrm, but a piece of the dragon’s tongue attached itself to Moiety’s ankle and would not come off.
“Real magic
can never be made
by offering someone else's liver.
You must tear out your own,
and not expect to get it back.”
― Peter S. Beagle, The Last Unicorhttps://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/902304 (n)
Akedah crouched to examine the oddity. It did not look as though it was hurting her, but it was stuck. He tried to slide it off. It was just tight enough to refuse to pivot over her heel.
Moiety gave a slight moan. The woman was not dead after all. The Viking felt hope gaining momentum. She opened her eyes and rolled to the side. She vomited a heave of thin yellow bile. Akedah looked at her blank eyes. “Moiety,” he called “Princess.” Nothing, just a vacuous stare. She jerked like a string toy, stood, and began to lurch back into the forest following after the hoard of mechanized animals.
Akedah followed. “Moiety!” he called again. Moiety’s body gave no discernible response as it continued striving through the forest and towards the sea cliffs. Her unclothed flesh stomped unhindered through thorn and mud, catching itself on low hanging vines all the while maintaining its mechanical march. Akedah was going to have to use force to intervene. The bright beautiful ocean loomed dangerously ahead. Akedah remembered the majestic but jagged boulders at the base of the cliffs. Moiety would be certainly dashed into pulp if she stepped from the precipice.
Akedah stepped up behind her and bearhugged her over her arms, lifting her bloody feet off the earth. She did not fight. She did not resist. She did continue to mindlessly strive for the cliffs. Her body twitched side to side in tractionless gait with calm suicidal effort. Akedah thought he was going to have to tether her body to a tree. As he was wondering where he was going to find a suitable cord, a warm moist wind began to blow across the island. Akedah took his brown wool tunic off to clothe the woman. He had to pin her torso to the ground with his knee, as her body rhythmically pushed against the earth, attempting to right itself. He sat down under a broom tree and pulled her into his lap while he considered what to do. The wind was picking up. Akedah felt a rumble, that he supposed was thunder. The rumble grew stronger with the rising wind.
The island’s atmosphere was absurdly normal for an epic. There was nothing on the surface that would indicate that it was a cosmic battleground, and yet here it was, complete with dragons, stars, and World Tree wormholes all set against the milieu of a normal ocean breeze and a common warm summer evening downpour.
The downpour. It all seemed so suddenly meaningless. He remembered great warriors who had fought valiantly to win difficult battles only to die weeks later from infections. He also knew well the creeping depression that settled in amongst men after victory. A warrior cannot return to the family farm as a farmer. Wolves do not live in kennels. The warm, mundane rain was relentless.
The woman’s body continued to jerk mechanically. Akedah looked at her. Her eyes were glazed. Her mouth was slobbering. There was nothing in her appearance that he would desire her. He was thoroughly exasperated and wanted nothing more than to rid himself of the annoyance. He pushed the feeling down. He felt very warm... Support this podcast
