Thank you.
Chapter 28
I continued my trek above and outside the valley. There wasn’t much to see ... a tree here, a cave there, an abandoned hut that way ....
I found a dirty old road that looked as good as any in this barren land. I turned on to it and kept walking.
There were things to think about while here, anyway, instead of simply walking along. For example, how could I have been stupid enough to fall into the sligs’ trap?
It was obvious. I had been hoping to find help from some mudokons, and my mind wouldn’t accept anything else.
But this next place ... Styx, Orion called it. What had he said? Styx is the land of ... what kind of mudokons? Vicious .... convivial ones? No, that didn’t seem right. I honestly couldn’t remember. It was a poor situation to be in, I guess, not knowing if he had said “very convivial” or “vicious cannibal.”
But my luck always points me down the hard road, so I guessed it was the latter.
An hour of uneventful walking later, I spotted a small village. These unmistakably mudokon huts were larger than average, and arranged in a large circle around some ceremonial-looking stage.
It appeared to be a gallows of some kind.
Yup. Vicious cannibals.
Something in my head didn’t want to entirely accept this yet, and so I walked right into the open, leaving myself exposed to all number of projectiles, and spoke.
“Hello? .... All o’ ya!”
Nothing. Try again.
“Come on ... I know someone’s here ... I’m looking for the totem ...”
That got their attention. Doors threw themselves open, and nearly fifty mudokons, all clad in furry garments, smeared with white paint on their angry red skin, feathers greasy and hanging limp, poured into the square to witness this blue wonder.
Yikes.
So I held up my hands in a gesture of peace ... and someone must’ve thought I was planning something, because a rock flew and struck my right paw. It didn’t hurt, but it distracted me long enough to be overtaken by the crowd.
I was lifted and carried around to shouts and cheers and hungry hooting. Not cool. Ultimately I was tumbled onto the stage, where ropes were fastened about my neck, wrists, and ankles. A quick survey of my surroundings found that the ropes were tied around large rocks on platforms, and that tumbling them down would pull my body to pieces.
Ah, jeez. Oh no ...
“Guys, come on ...” I began pathetically, when the tribe’s unmistakable leader stepped on stage with me, probably to make a speech.
He began in whistle-speak, and I could follow pretty well.
“This mudokon interloper is here for our enjoyment! He has been sent by the mighty Odd to us in our time of need! And tonight, we shall dine!”
Time of need?! They were cannibals! Why not eat each other and do me a favor?
The chief turned his attention to me, ready to offer my last rites or something. But something made him stop ... he reached out and began fiddling with my ear. Oh, he was picking out the parts he wanted, eh? Son of a bitch.
“Like what you see?” I whistled at him. “I hope it poisons you, you schmuck.”
“Where did you get this earring?” he said softly, in amazement. He didn’t whistle, and I suddenly understood two things. One, I was probably not about to be eaten. Two, I now knew who held the remaining earring.
“It was a gift,” I began, and recounted my journey to this mudokon chief. He listened very patiently, and with great interest.
At the end, the chief sat in silence. Finally, he spoke.
“Forgive us if we have offended, Dante of the Factory. But we have not had our ceremonial meal of mudokon meat for several years.”
I stared at him blankly. Ceremonial meals? Sheesh. “I had it in my head that all you ate was mudokon meat.”
The crowd shuddered and “eww!”-ed at that. The chief spoke: “What are you, nuts? Do you know how bad we taste? I’m glad that there’s fifty of us, because then we each don’t have to eat as much of that nasty crap.”
Wonder of wonders. Mudokon meat tastes terrible. After some thinking, I decided this wouldn’t deter the glukkons in any way. I considered the plan to feed us the meat of our dead. Sure, they’d add preservatives and spices to keep it fresh in storage, but it would probably still be disgusting. But would the mudokons get a choice? Nah.
“So, chief,” I ventured ... “wanna tell me where the totem is?”
He glared at me, then motioned to some others, who began to untie me. “I will not. The great Pyll of the Mudokons doesn’t owe you any favors.”
Hmm.
“But you aren’t going to let me leave, either,” I challenged.
Pyll looked ready to break down. He obviously wasn’t up to the occasion anymore. “I might ... if you can surpass me in a contest.”
“Contest?” What kind of contest could they have? Eating? Throwing? Jumping rope? Drawing?
“Transformation!” Pyll cried, and this was greeted by hoots from the crowd.
Huh?
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