The Crippled God

pommel of the first cutlass slammed into the side of the Inquisitor’s skull, punching through.
    Pouring out blood, the corpse crumpled at her feet. The handmaid looked round. No movement among any of the other bodies. Just as Mother taught . She glanced down at the cutlasses in her hands, and then let them fall with a clatter. Pieces of shit . She went looking for her knives.
    Hood returned to the deck once they were under way. The once-god of death looked back, frowned at the burning ship in their wake.
    ‘Would’ve stopped her firing it,’ Shurq Elalle muttered, following the Jaghut’s gaze, ‘if I’d had the chance.’
    ‘Oh? Why is that, Captain?’
    ‘Well, that column of smoke can be seen from a long way off.’
    ‘Indeed.’ And Hood turned to her then, and smiled.
    ‘I must leave you now.’
    Ublala grunted. ‘I knew you weren’t my friend.’
    ‘I assure you,’ Draconus said, ‘that I am, Ublala Pung. But events have occurred that now force my hand. As for you, a different destiny awaits.’
    ‘I hate destiny.’
    ‘Do you understand the meaning of the word?’
    Ublala looked across at Ralata and scowled. ‘Of course I do. It’s the place where you end up. Everyone knows that.’
    ‘In a manner of speaking, perhaps. I fear you have mistaken it for “destination”. Ublala, destiny is the fate you find for yourself. Many hold to the belief that it is preordained, as if the future was already decided and there is nothing you can do to escape it. I do not. Each of us is free to decide.’
    ‘Then I’m going with you. My wife can go somewhere else. She keeps talking about babies but I don’t want babies – they get in the way of having fun, and people who end up having them spend all day talking about how great it is, but they look miserable even when they’re smiling. Or worse, there’re those ones who think their baby is the God of Genius reborn and even its poo smells like flowers, and all they do is talk about them for ever and ever and it’s so boring I want to run away, or break their necks, or drown them all in the slop bucket.’
    ‘A rather uncharitable view, Ublala.’
    ‘I don’t give nothing for free, that’s for sure. Whole people disappear when a baby arrives. Poof! Where’d they go? Oh, I know, they’re crawling around making baby noises. It makes me sick.’ He ducked the rock Ralata threw at him and continued, ‘So I’m going with you and if you were a real friend you’d take me because if I make a baby my life is over. Over!’
    ‘Can you fly, Ublala?’
    ‘That’s not fair!’
    ‘Nevertheless, and no, I will not carry you. Now, listen to me. We have gone as far west as needed – now you must strike northward.’
    ‘Why?’
    Draconus glanced away, eyes narrowing, and then he sighed and said, ‘Your innocence is a gift, Ublala Pung. A rare gift. It must endure. It must be protected, but that I can no longer do. Walk northward, that is all I ask.’
    ‘Where am I going?’
    ‘I cannot say for certain,’ Draconus admitted. ‘Nothing is certain, especially now.’
    ‘Will you come back?’
    Draconus hesitated, and then he shook his head. ‘I do not think we will meet again, no. And for that I truly grieve.’
    ‘Are you going somewhere to die?’
    ‘Do not weep, friend. I do not know what awaits me.’ He stepped close to Ublala. ‘I have left you sufficient food and water for a week’s travel. Beyond that, well.’ He shrugged, and then held out a hand. ‘Now, let us clasp arms.’
    Instead, Ublala wrapped the god in a fierce hug.
    After a moment, Draconus pulled himself free. ‘You give reason,friend, for what I must attempt. If sorcery must die, the magic in the mortal soul will persevere – or so I choose to believe.’
    Ralata hissed, ‘Kill him, Ublala! Kill him now – you can do it! Snap his neck! Take that sword!’
    Ublala winced and then shrugged. ‘She’s always going on like this. She don’t mean anything by it, Draconus. Honest.’ He wiped at his eyes. ‘Goodbye. I’ll never see you again.’ And this time he burst into tears, wailing with his hands over his eyes.
    When Ralata rushed to him, scrabbling to draw his knife, Ublala batted her away between sobs. She was thrown back, sailing through the air and then landing hard, limbs flailing, before falling still.
    Frowning, Draconus walked over. Crouched down. ‘Unconscious. Well, that is something, I suppose.’
    Sniffling, Ublala said, ‘Women always get jealous about