Warlord of Zhlozakia
2092 Words
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“Well, look at you,” says Jasper right after the goddess comes out clean from the bathroom of the room in an inn they are staying in. “You're an elegant goddess if you try.”
“Make it fast,” she says, narrowing her eyes at him—rubbing his palms together and a smug on his face.
“No, I will take my time.” He begins to undress his traditional tribesman clothing joins her on the bed.
The inn is hanging from the trunk of a huge tree just like other houses in this forest swamp. Bridges connect each tree that sway when someone crosses them. The night is bright as torches are lit up and bonfires blazing full of life on the wide stone platform in the middle of the swamp below and in the center of the hanging village. The women wear leather bras and skirts while the men are bare-chested and wear all sorts of undergarments. Icarus and Philip are following the dress code as they observe the festival around the bonfire.
Villagers are drinking and eating roasted meat. The musicians bang their traditional instruments that can be heard throughout the village, enticing others who are still in their homes to get out of their solitary life.
“Quite a lively village,” says Philip.
“You said it,” says Icarus, taking a bite off of a roasted drumstick.
“Where did you get that?”
“On that table,” he says, chewing and pointing behind them.
Tons of food, mainly roasted meat are piling on the table. The people around it are full, couldn't eat anymore. So, they encourage others to eat a lot so there will be no cold leftovers.
“It's free?” Philip asks, swallowing.
“Of course. It's for the festival.”
“I'll get something. I'll be right back.”
“Go ahead.”
Philip goes there and has a hard time choosing what to eat because of the different delicious food to choose from. Icarus observes everything, standing in the same place. He stands a little bit far from the bonfire so there aren't many people around him. This is also the place he wouldn't stand out because other tribesmen are doing the same thing as him, observing and eating.
One particular man is sitting on a throne made out of wood and tusks, painted with red stripes. A heavy headdress decorated with bones and feathers on his head makes him look menacing despite his young age. He stands and the music halts. Sober or drunk, none of them fail to acknowledge his presence. For a while, he gazes left to right, looking at the faces of his people.
“My brothers and sisters,” he announces. “I'm not on the battlefield like our warriors for the moment. But I am certain that they will bring us more victory, more feast for us to enjoy!” They cheer, filling the air. “I know that they are strong! That's why we can feast like this in their honor. This is not merely a feast for the selection of my bride but a feast for those who died in battle as well as those who are still fighting. Our victory is sealed! It's only a matter of time we free this planet from the corrupted hands of Olympus Mons!” It's as if all of the noises of the creatures in the forest are combined could not compete with them.
“Who's that?” asks Philip when he joins Icarus's side again.
“Dunno.”
“That's Viktor,” says Jasper, putting himself between the two and resting each of his arms around their shoulders. He has a satisfied smug on his face. “the Warlord of Zhlozakia. He's gonna be choosing from one of the best ladies in this tribe full of s*xy ladies!” He grits his teeth, closing his eyes. “I'm so envious! I wish I was him!”
“Where's—” Icarus stops when he spots the goddess in tribal clothing, walking to the crowd.
“That is the best night I've ever had,” giggles Jasper. “By the way, where's Hiroki?”
“He said he wants to get a signal,” says Philip. “and tell our lady about what you did.”
“What I did?”
“Yup.”
“I gotta find him and kill him!” He lets go and looks around to find Hiroki.
Meanwhile, eight ladies stand before the throne. That includes the goddess that they met. All of them have defined muscles and abs. War maidens—they are. They cast shadows on the staircase as the bonfire is behind them. The tribal music begins again, this time, fiercer and louder. One could feel their chest beating. It's like the music makes their hearts pump. Viktor starts to climb down the staircase and everyone kneels including the ladies. Philip and Icarus do the same.
Apart from the crackling sound of the bonfire, Viktor's feet thud in his every step. His presence surges all around. Nobody dares to make a sound. Small rustling, the sound of breath, or any sound will disrespect his steps—which they regard as sacred.
“All of you, rise,” he says so they stand slowly without making any sound. They witness him walking to and fro, in front of the ladies, watching them closely. “As in our tradition, a warlord must have a successor that is born with gifts, destined to become the strongest. While the warlord does his duties, his wife must be worthy of raising the child into the greatest warrior that will succeed its father. It's a great responsibility that will define the fate of Zhlozakia. I'm not Lord Tsar's real son in blood but he considers me as one. Why? Because I'm stronger than the son he has lost. The strong win and the weak lose. Lord Tsar wouldn't accept being reborn from a weak mother and father. He chose me because I'm strong!” Viktor's face means what he says and nobody looks like they disagree. “He has chosen me yet didn't choose who will be the mother. That's why, tomorrow, the selection shall start. These warriors have been chosen to prove themselves who amongst them are the strongest and worthy to be the mother of the new God of Chaos!”
They cry, shouting the names of the warriors they are betting on. Most of them shout the name, “Arina”. She's in the center. The other warrior maidens are glaring at her, hoping that one of them will have the honor to crush her.
“Aren't they too hyped?” asks Philip while they watch from outside the crowd at the back.
“What do you mean?” Icarus asks back. “There will be an exciting tournament to watch. It reminds me of the demigod tournaments we had years ago.”
“Yeah, good times...”
They both reminisce about the life they had before the last tournament.
Meanwhile, Jasper has found Hiroki on the highest tree in the village, trying to get a signal with his antenna.
“Hiroki!” Jasper whispers upon transforming into himself, lightly rocking the wooden treehouse. “What are you doing?!”
“Trying to find a signal—obviously.”
“Don't even think of ratting me out to Lady Sayuri or I will make sure your dead body won't be found!”
“What? Why would I do that useless effort? I'm trying to report our status to our comrades so that they will know we're fine. It's for the best so they won't come here and blow our cover.”
Raising his eyebrows, Jasper compliments, “Wow, you thought this through.”
“But if Lady Sayuri asks about what you've done, I will tell her.”
“Then I'll throw you off of this tree right now!”
“Go ahead,” he scoffs, knowing that Jasper won't do that to him. “Where are the two?” He means Philip and Icarus.
“They're in the feast.”
“So, about that goddess...”
“How she tastes?” Jasper kisses his fingers. “She tasted sooo good, Hiroki. If only you asked me to give you a turn, I wouldn't be describing it to you in words.”
“I would never!” He shakes his head and asks, “What did you find out about her?”
“Nothing much but I got an idea of her lineage.”
“Lineage? How?”
“I can compare the DNA of people I shapeshift into and know what powers they have.
“So, that's how you knew,” Hiroki realizes.
“Yeah,” Jasper laughs.
“You're a good liar.”
“You know me... So, where was I? Ah, yes. Earlier, when we found her, I got a sniffed hair and figured out that she's the lost daughter of Ammar—that noble we found a while ago. To think that an insignificant man like him is the father of that goddess.”
“What's her name again?”
“Zoya, the Goddess of Immortality.”
“I still don't understand how her power works. Immortality? I thought all gods can die.”
“We die, of course, when we grow old. Our souls will naturally lose grip on our material bodies and eventually die then transfer to a newborn. She, on the other hand, could not die from anything except old age. That's what Seok taught me long ago. This power hasn't been found since Enzo, in his early years, killed the last holder—who was a rogue god. I guess he killed him by using cessation—which none of us have except Lady Sayuri and that boy Darius. Only the three of them could kill Zoya. Ammar was lucky to bear such a child. His wife must be smart enough to flee from him so he couldn't use Zoya. Her mother raised her here so that's why the people believed her when she told them that we're with her.”
“We're lucky.”
“Yes, we are. And that's not all, Hiroki.” He grabs him by putting his left arm over Hiroki's shoulder. He whispers, “I asked around, and found out that this village knows about Lady Sayuri's sword.”
“They do? How? And what does that mean?”
“I'm not sure of how they know but I guess it's because Lady Sayuri met Dragunov, right? He must've relayed this information to Tsar—the former leader of this village.”
“Then why the heck Habib knows about it too? Could it be... he's their ally?”
“Could be.”
“Oh, no... I gotta relay this to them as soon as we can! Habib might—”
“No, not yet.”
“What?!” Hiroki stops finding a signal. “Why?”
“We can't act carelessly. Habib's village might not be related to this village.”
“But they mutually know about the sword. That means they're allies!”
“Your logic makes sense, Hiroki but my gut tells me that it isn't the case.”
“Then, what?”
“I don't know yet,” says Jasper, letting go of Hiroki's shoulder. He's rubbing his chin, looking at the swamp, below. “I feel there's something more behind this mystery. Just trust me, Hiroki. There's not a day that passes that I don't think about this. Leave it up to me and I'll tell you one day.”
“Fine.”
“And don't contact someone from the outside. This village might look like it's ancient but they can use complicated human trinkets as you do. You'll get us into trouble if they suspect you revealing the location of this place to their enemy.”
“Alright, I'll—” He narrows his eyes, guessing that Jasper is just doing this for another purpose. “You're just desperate to stop me from contacting Lady Sayuri, aren't you?”
“Whaaat?” Jasper smirks. “No, I would never do that.” The sarcasm in his tone is obvious. “But I'm serious, don't. If this is a tribe that doesn't know technology, they couldn't have defeated my mother's forces.”
“Fine.” Hiroki sighs and puts away the radio.
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