Pears and Perils Read online

  “You think it up and Mano can make it happen. Just call front desk if you need me; Mano lives on site.” Mano would have promised this man the head of Kodiwandae himself at that moment, just to get away safely. If he actually did call for assistance, Mano would evaluate what it entailed before deciding if he would get involved. Preferably that evaluation would take place from a healthy distance.

  “I will.” It sounded more like a ransom note than a cordial acceptance. The door closed and Mano found himself alone in the hallway.

  He wondered if he had enough time to get a case of beer and run out to the ocean. There was a certain shark he wanted to work on his friendship with, because right at this moment, a hammerhead having his back would have made him feel a lot safer.

  6.

  Thunder was on his fourth beer by the time the appetizers made it to the table. He’d tried one of the signature island drinks the bartenders specialized in, but rejected it because it featured Kenowai Pear juice and evidently, “No disrespecticles, but pears are just yuck and then some.” So instead he was hurling pale ales down his throat like he was an alcoholic camel stocking up for a journey across the desert. The Goodwin brothers were sipping on wine, a merlot for Dustin and a chardonnay for Justin, while everyone else enjoyed the regional cocktails. Everyone except Lawrence, that is; he stuck to tap water with a twist of lemon.

  The seven of them sat at a table in one of the resort’s many restaurants. It featured private bungalows jutting out from the main building so each set of diners felt secluded from the world. The table held eight, so a single chair was left unoccupied. Clint thought it had been a mistake of the wait staff that the silverware for that seat hadn’t been cleared away; however, he quickly realized his own mistake when Lawrence rose to greet a slender woman in a blue floral dress who approached their table.

  “I would like you all to meet Dr. Kaia Hale,” Lawrence said, rotating so everyone could get a view of their dinner guest. She was in her mid-thirties with dark, curly hair and a splattering of freckles across her tan face. In another life she might have been an amateur model, doing car shows and local food ads, but the gods had burdened her with a thirst for knowledge, so instead she had gotten her doctorate in anthropology. “She will be our guide for the ceremony tomorrow.”

  “It is a pleasure to meet you all,” Kaia said graciously.

  Thunder leaned over and loudly commented to Clint, “Dude, hells to the yes. Hottie alert.”

  Clint couldn’t really disagree, though he probably would have phrased it a little differently. He also wouldn’t have said it loudly enough to cast the whole room into an awkward silence. Fortunately, Falcon had either too little care or decorum to let it impede her own questions.

  “Dr. Hale, is it really okay for us to be taking part in this? We do not wish to treat your religion with frivolity.”

  “Thank you for your concern; however, I assure you there have been many foreigners who have been part of the ceremony before you.” Kaia was embellishing on the ‘many’ part: it was actually a very rare outsider who was given such an honor, but Mr. Dillon hadn’t cut her a hefty research grant to make his guests feel ill at ease. “The Offering of Kodiwandae is done by every islander when they come of age, in hopes that they will be the one to finally set him free. So, you see, this isn’t a closely-guarded secret or earned rite of passage. It is merely one of the ways we mark adulthood, like a tropical bar mitzvah.”

  “But the bar mitzvah is a very sacred part of Judaism,” Falcon pointed out.

  “It was just an analogy. We’re somewhat more relaxed around here,” Kaia assured her.

  “So, iron this one out for me, doc: if your Cody-wand-danny dude is a god then how can he be stuck? I mean, isn’t the whole point of being a god that shit like that doesn’t happen to you?” Thunder speared a crab cake hors d'oeuvre as he asked his question, then washed it down with the rest of his fourth beer. The staff was already setting down another before his glass hit the table.

  Kaia smiled thinly. “Perhaps we should start at the beginning. If you are to understand the meaning behind The Offering of Kodiwandae, you should know the story of how he was sealed there in the first place.” Kaia accept a glass of water from a waiter and drained it slowly, letting the cold liquid lubricate her throat that the story might more easily depart it. When it was empty she motioned for another, and then faced the table filled with both eager and indifferent eyes. Satisfied she had at least their passing attention, Kaia began.

  Kodiwandae’s Folly

  Kodiwandae was a fair god; he treated the people of his island to abundant harvests and frequent sunshine. If Kodiwande had one failing, though, it was his love for Alahai, the goddess of a nearby island. If he had two failings, the first would still be his love. The second would be his friendship with Felbren. Felbren was a trickster god from the biggest island in their cluster of land masses, and he was thoroughly disliked by all other local deities. Kodiwandae had a kind heart however, and he looked past Felbren’s failings. Besides, in any close-knit community it’s almost impossible to completely freeze someone out.

  This story begins after Kodiwandae had finished forming the first of his special pear trees on Kenowai and had gone to Feblren’s island, Faldilonda, for a drink and a bit of a brag session. Kodiwandae was kind and good, but he was still a god, and gods are not known for their humility.

  Kodiwandae had brought a harvest of his pears, which he mashed in a giant bucket and aged into a particularly scrumptious alcohol. Kodiwandae and Felbren got good and drunk that night, talking and laughing and dropping random blessings on passing mortals. The morning sun found them still in the throes of intoxication, Felbren hurling random boulders into the ocean while Kodiwandae watched peacefully. Iohalo, the ocean god, had banned Felbren from his domain after a particularly cruel prank Felbren played on a species of octopus. Without being able to cross the water, Felbren was stuck on his island, only able to leave on special occasions during which all gods were given free passage or when Iohalo was good and plastered and not paying attention.

  “It’s not like it wasn’t funny,” Felbren complained, picking a hunk of rock that it would have taken the villagers ten strong men just to budge. “I mean, come on, he gave them eight arms; he clearly wanted them to multi-task. I just made their penises detachable and able to swim. Now they can really get stuff done!” Felbren launched the piece of mountain through the air and grinned with satisfaction as it splashed into the water some miles away.

  “He’d probably forgive you if you’d just turn them back,” Kodiwandae pointed out.

  “Forget it; it’s a matter of principle now. Besides, they made the deal.”

  The octopuses had made the deal, which was why Iohalo couldn’t just turn them back himself. When mortals made deals, most were written in sand and easily washed away. Bargains with gods were scorched into mountains. Even other deities couldn’t undo an agreement once it was set.

  The two drank the last of the pear liquor as the sun rose in the sky, and Kodiwandae commented that the light streaming through the clouds was almost half as beautiful as Alahai’s eyes when she was happy. Now, Kodiwandae didn’t know it, but Felbren loved Alahai too. While Kodiwandae kept his love secret out of fear it would not be returned, Felbren hid his out of knowledge that Alahai’s heart already belonged to another. Still, he was a trickster god, and friend or not, a good opportunity was a good opportunity.

  “You should go to the island of Denilale and pluck one of the white flowers from the peak of the high mountain, crescent blossoms I think they are called, as a gift for her,” Felbren suggested. “They are said to be a beauty that makes even the stars twist in envy.”

  “Denilale is Her island,” Kodiwandae pointed out. He didn’t have to specify who; the tone said it all. There were gods in the world - a particular abundance in some areas more than others - and then there were the Gods, the ones who were attached to forces so primal and intrinsic that they lived in a category all their own.


  “She has temples on plenty of islands; I doubt Denilale means much to her in the grand scheme of things.”

  “She only lets those flowers grow in that one spot. They don’t take root anywhere else in the world. What if she gets mad at me for plucking one?”

  “Would you be mad at a human for eating one of your new pears? No; you made them for that purpose! Whoever heard of making a flower that wasn’t meant to be picked?”

  Kodiwandae thought it over and decided his friend had a point. Besides, the alcohol had made him bold, and he truly did want to see the look on Alahai’s face when he brought her a crescent blossom. So Kodiwandae grabbed hold of a strong wind and rode his way over to the mountain of Denilale. He’d sobered up a bit by the time he landed, but by this point he’d traveled so far it would almost feel more ridiculous not to follow through.

  Kodiwandae searched the mountain for some time, finally coming across a single crescent blossom on a cliff that looked out on all the lands below. It truly was a gorgeous flower: white as the clouds with veins of blue swirling through the petals. The smell was like the first day of Spring and the center seeds seemed to almost sparkle in the sun, their golden shells catching the light and reflecting it with breathtaking luster. Kodiwandae picked up the flower with great care, severing the root like a parent cutting an umbilical cord.

  He turned around to take the winds over to Alahai’s island, but as soon as he did, he found Her waiting for him. She had many names across many lands, but names didn’t really mean much to gods: they were fueled and formed by the shape of the beliefs rather than the terms associated with them. She was known as the respect for the land, the hope for sustenance from the soil, and the faith in balance that the mortals held with the vegetation that surrounded them. She was Nature, all other names meant nothing in the face of that truth.

  Inherently taciturn already (winter didn’t just happen by itself, after all), Nature wore a look that spelled out quite clearly her unhappiness with what lay before her.

  “It is forbidden to pluck my crescent blossoms.”

  “Forbidden? I thought it was just frowned upon, sort of like an unspoken rule of politeness,” Kodiwandae babbled quickly, trying to think of a way to appease her.

  “Forbidden. Since I first formed them, none but I are allowed to tear them from the earth.”

  “Oh, well, it seems that’s my mistake, then. How about I put it back, you just reconnect the root, and we both forget this whole thing ever happened?”

  “The sin is commited. Punishment must be given. This is my way.”

  “Punishment?”

  “I will cast you into the soul of a slug, cursing it to live for a millennium so you may have adequate time to contemplate your mistake.”

  “Wait, a slug? I see your side of things, but isn’t that a bit harsh? I didn’t even know it was forbidden; I just listened to my idiot friend Felbren who said it would impress a girl I like.”

  “Felbren.” Nature’s face became frosty and cast in shadow, her version of a frown. “I dislike that god. But he is not the one who has broken my edict.”

  “Yes, but I didn’t even know! Surely there must be another way.”

  Nature stood silently as the winds danced around the two deities. Kodiwandae fleetingly imagined plucking hold of one and riding it back to his island where he would… be in the exact same position. He was a regional god; Nature was everywhere. There was no escape.

  “I have spoken to your island, Kodiwandae. You treat it well, you care for it lovingly. You even gave it new fruit to bear. I offer you a compromise in respect. I will bind you in the tree you have just planted and take possession of your power. Should a worthy being make an offering of sea, stone, and fruit, you may be set free. If you can then convince them to carry you to my temple here and call upon me, I will return your power and your penance will be complete.”

  “How will anyone know to come free me?”

  “I will see that the story is spread.”

  “And if you have my power and I am sealed away, then who will watch over Kenowai?”

  “I will protect the island in your stead.”

  Kodiwandae thought it over. His followers were devout; it shouldn’t take too long for a worthy one to come forward. It certainly would be better than thousands of years in a slug.

  “You must protect my island as adamantly as I have. Iohalo must be kept happy so he does not send waves to destroy it.”

  “That is acceptable.”

  “Then I agree.”

  The words had barely left his mouth when he found himself standing on Kenowai, staring out from the hill he’d been on a few short hours ago. He knew if he turned around he would see his pear tree, strong and thick against the island’s skyline. He didn’t turn around, though; he stared Nature in the eye as she glided forward and seized his chest. She thrust him backward, there was a moment of vertigo and a sense of the world narrowing, and it was over.

  “If you would, tell Alahai I have something to talk with her about once I am free,” Kodiwandae said, determined to relay a message before his consciousness faded away fully.

  “I will tell her. I don’t know if she will remember by the time you are freed, though.”

  “All I need is someone worthy to make the offering.”

  “Yes, but gods are not known for their willingness to aid one another.”

  “What? You never said it had to be a god!”

  “Oh, Kodiwandae, what else could I have meant by ‘worthy’? I will show you one last bit of compassion: they needn’t be a full god. Merely of divine blood will suffice.”

  “But… that’s…” Kodiwandae tried to protest more, but his mind was slipping away like a sand sculpture being struck down by the unstoppable rising of the tides.

  “That is what we agreed on. The deal is struck, Kodiwandae. What is done cannot be undone.”

  Nature would have continued, but she could feel that he was gone and she would have only been talking to a tree. While she did enjoy talking to trees, it was time to get back to work.

  * * *

  The dinner plates sat empty, polished clean of the roasted pork that had been served and consumed in silence while Kaia spoke. As her voice petered off, the seven others sat in reverence at the story that had been woven before them.

  “Dude,” Thunder said, “that sucks some jumbo donkey balls.”

  In a rare turn of events, Thunder’s opinion was shared by many others in the room.

  7.

  “I’m just saying, that’s a whole hot wet mess of bullshit,” Thunder insisted. He’d dragged Clint, along with a case of beer and three bottles of wine (Clint was beginning to wonder just where Thunder pulled all this alcohol out of), over to the women’s room after dinner under the guise of “team bonding.” No amount of insistence that it wasn’t necessary, or that they weren’t really on a team, or that even if they were it would consist of contest winners not the camera man, would deter Thunder from his course. Even at that, April probably would have refused them entry to their room when they knocked, but Falcon ushered them in and insisted that communication fostered harmony and they would need as much as they could get for tomorrow.

  “It’s just a story. They’re used by cultures to convey morals. This one was obviously that no one is above the laws of nature. For a heavily agricultural community I’m sure it was an important ideal to instill, otherwise people might over-harvest or accidently hurt the food supply,” April speculated.

  “Nah, they’d just say that. Plus, why have the god get totally handed the dick by his bud? This pear god is a pans, I’d have been all up in Nature’s face if she tried to run that on me.”

  “Perhaps it is unwise to blaspheme the Mother Goddess when we are on an island she specifically watches over,” Falcon cautioned.

  “Sorry, my bad. I’m just saying it sucks. Dude gets stuck in a tree just ‘cause he natural-ones an innuendo check.”

  Clint turned to Thunder, who was finishin
g off a beer with his right hand and digging in the box for another with his left. “Wait, what did you say?”

  “Nothing, bro, don’t worry about it. The part I don’t get is what the story meant by divine blood. I mean, aren’t you either a rocking god or a sucky mortal? Boom, pick one and move on?”

  “Most faiths allow for the idea of beings with both deific and mortal heritage,” Falcon corrected.

  “Greek mythology in particular practically littered its pantheon with half-breeds,” April added. She was working on her third Kenowai Pear and sipping a glass of wine. Despite the superstition surrounding them, April had to admit the fruits were exceptionally delicious.

  “So there’s peeps with the right stuff out there? Then why not come give a hand?”

  “Had you ever heard of Kodiwandae before today?” Clint asked.

  “Nopers, like, el zilcho knowledge.”

  “There you go; maybe the ones who have both the qualifications and the inclination just haven’t heard of his plight yet.”

  “Clint, bro, you just dropped some knowledge on me,” Thunder said. “But, just to check, no one here is part-god, right?”

  There was an exchange of uncertain glances as they wondered if the strange young man was being serious or trying to set up a joke.

  “Not me,” April said at last.

  “I am equally unblessed,” Falcon chipped in.

  “Pretty sure I would have noticed,” Clint added.

  “See, that’s what gives me the buggins. If we aren’t going to succeed either, then why are we doing this?”

  “For your father’s commercial.” April spoke slowly, as if the words would shatter Thunder’s brain were they delivered too quickly.

  “Just for a commercial? Well, that sort of seems like a dick move.” Thunder took a long drink of his current beer, draining the can halfway, and then gave a shrug. “Fuggit. Who wants to play a round of Ride the Bus?”