Chapter 9: Goddess vs. Queen

"Ridiculous woman!" Vegeta scowled. He aimed a kick at the training bot and hit it squarely on the brass target plated on its belly. He then threw a barrage of punches at the target until the bot collapsed on the floor. Another bot appeared behind him, and he swung his leg around to knock it to the floor as well.

Ever since Bulma had left the party, Vegeta had retreated to his gravity training room for some much-needed physical therapy. There was no point in sticking around to talk to the Namekian freaks or that bald-headed moron. He really was only there to rile up the woman, and once he'd done that he could return to his real pursuit in life: becoming the strongest warrior alive.

He was distracted though – and immensely so. The words of Dende had not been completely lost on him. He heard the threat of Frieza's revival and it lingered in his mind dangerously.

How many years ago was it that he lived under the tail of that twisted tyrant, forced to do his evil bidding? How long did he suffer and toil to build an empire that would always oppress him? True, he had lashed out at Bulma, claiming his environmental adaptability was superior to hers, but even he had to acknowledge that surviving Frieza's rule was at least somewhat partially a matter of luck.

There wasn't a day in his youth that he approached that throne without fear of being strangled, shot, or brutalized.

"You are wrong, Bulma," Vegeta hissed as he knocked down a half dozen bots in a blaze of speed and fury. "I do not believe in just survival of the strongest… that brazen madness is the philosophy of fucking Frieza. We Saiyans had a code of honor! Rituals and rules for testing and proving strength! We didn't just conquer and destroy for our gain thoughtlessly. There was established protocol. And you… stupid… woman… don't… understand…that!"

Vegeta unleashed an immense burst of power, which radiated off of him and scorched the bots in the room until they were steaming, motionless piles of scrap metal. Sweat dripped from his brow as he panted heavily. His eyes narrowed meanly.

"You'll need me, woman," he muttered, licking a stray, salty drip of sweat from his lip. "You'll need me more than you realize. You don't know the first thing about the galaxies that lie beyond this ridiculously naïve planet. But let the Guardian of the Earth choose who he pleases to carry out his special missions. At the end of the day, you will need me. Because only I know the unending nightmare that is Frieza…"

Willo's Grove was located in the western hemisphere of planet Deltotum, where swampland and murky waters claimed length and width of the landscape. Rotting, leafless trees congregated closely together in knee-deep water. Sludge-like algae drifted on the surface. Fallen logs festered with maggots and fungi sprouted from every branch of every tree. It was a dark, hazy place with a thick fog and a plentiful helping of eerie-looking shadows.

Gilgamek had sloshed his way through the grimness and grime to the center of the grove, where there was a small clearing among the trees and an oddly shaped mass of fungus. Large boulders were circled around it, further drawing attention to its strange form. In some ways, the shape looked like Gilgamek, a heaping mass of imperfections with a sagging mouth and wide, gaping eye sockets. But what was most peculiar about the fungal mass was the way it had grown two outstretched limbs with distinctive looking palms. They were facing up, as if waiting to hold something or to have something placed within them.

There was a reason Gilgamek's mysterious customer had chosen this locale to meet, and Gilgamek knew it had to do with this strange fungus statue. While to passerby it might look like just an exceptionally deformed mushroom surrounded by some neatly lined rocks, but in reality this was a statue of Mycoli, the Goddess of Vitalium.

She was the symbol of life for his people, the Chytrids, and frequently made appearances in their childhood stories and folklore. She provided the dying sick man an extra decade of life. She gave the premature baby the spores she needed to breathe again. She brought the sick adult back to the prime of his youth. She was mentioned at every birth and funeral, every marital union, every rite of passage, every meal and bedtime prayer. She was their deity for everlasting life. With an endless supply of vitalium spores and dead matter to feast upon, she always managed to find a way to survive. Some species called it parasitism; his called it vivacity. And they aspired to live forever just as Goddess Mycoli did in their cultural legacy.

For all of his life, Gilgamek actually kept a necklace with a goddess charm on it hidden below his tunic. Before battle, he would grasp it in his palm to reassure himself that he would always come out alive so long as he had faith in Mycoli and the vitalium of the universe. Again now, he clutched it, wondering when his mysterious customer would arrive and what news they would have to share with him.

"So, I see you have made it."

Gilgamek was startled. He didn't see the figure approaching in the distance, nor did he hear the slosh of any swamp water. Yet there was the mysterious figure, completely cloaked and standing on the other side of the Mycoli statue.

"Where did you come from?" he gasped.

"I have many ways of travelling." He could hear the sound of a smile in the foreigner's voice. A great feeling of anxiety swelled within him.

"I am here, as you requested," he said cautiously, watching the figure without blinking to catch any sudden movement.

"A wise choice! For we have important matters to discuss. Most importantly, these."

The traveler revealed their long white, spindly hands again and produced a vial about three inches tall. Inside of it was a collection of twinkling spores, looking a bit like bottled dandelion seeds. They emitted a soft green glow.

"Vitalium," Gilgamek said in an awed, breathy voice. "Where did you… where did you get those?"

The traveler chuckled and began to recite a poem.

"Little chytrids of the night,

Should you ever have a fright

From monsters, beasties, ghouls galore

Fear not, fear not, nevermore

For should the meanies, dark and deep

Try to kill you in your sleep

Just remember this precious rhyme

Sweet vitalium stops all time"

"Impressive," Gilgamek said, his voice quivering. "Few outside of Deltotum know of the Goddess' Lullaby. We sing it to our children so that they know as Mycoli they have nothing to fear."

"Ah, but it's not just about being Chytrid people though, is it? It's about that special resource that only the Chytrid people have on planet Deltotum… that sweet vitalium, hmm?"

"It is one of our planet's rarest natural resources," Gilgamek growled, "and also one of our best kept secrets. I have been wondering, sir or madam, since our discussion at my bar how you managed to come across such private information. In fact, there's a lot I've been wondering about, and I think it is about time that you perhaps become a bit more transparent about your agenda."

"Oh ho ho! Such vinegar! And what will you do if I refuse?"

"What do you think I will do?" Gilgamek spat back.

"I imagine something delightfully violent in nature!" the foreigner cackled with glee.

"Damn right!" And at that moment Gilgamek charged forward, wielding a sword tucked in a scabbard on his back. He aimed to plunge it right through the midsection of the cloaked foreigner, but was surprised when he kept going and plunged into a tree trunk. He was quick to tug the sword back out, wood chips flying as he did, and spun around. The traveler was now sitting in the open palms of the Mycoli statue. They were clapping their hands appreciatively.

"Good show!" they squealed in their hideous voice. "I almost thought for a second that you were going to impale me. What fun!"

"WHO ARE YOU?" Gilgamek roared. "WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME, REALLY?" He swung his sword threateningly.

"Now really… that's enough now." The figure snapped their fingers and Gilgamek's sword vanished from his grip. He cried out in fear and began to scramble away. The harder he tried to run though, the more it felt like the sticky mud of the swamp was holding him back. Indeed, when he looked back, he realized he hadn't moved an inch. What he did see was the mysterious figure holding out a hand, which was blazing with mystic force, and it was then he knew that there would be no escape. He fell forward into the filthy swamp water.

"Stupid fool," the foreigner growled. "You make me seriously question our alliance."

Gilgamek had barely managed to turn himself around and did not even bother to stand himself back up. Like a helpless toddler, he sat in the murky swamp and trembled, waiting for the next action of this witch foreigner. He thought he would catch them in their bluff by attending this stupid meeting today. Now he was rehearsing the rhymes of Mycoli's Lullaby, praying the stash of vitalium in his necklace charm would be enough to sustain him if this terror chose to destroy him.

"That's better," the foreigner said. "No more of your childish pranks. All will be revealed to you in good time. After all, sweet vitalium stops all time, remember? Ho ho ho!"

Gilgamek didn't even grunt. He kept his eyes shut and waited for the inevitable blow.

"Oh, I'm not going to kill you, Gilgamek Venchnok! I need you, remember? I just need you to play a little more kindly with me. I'm a delicate creature, after all."

Sweating profusely, Gilgamek forced himself to open his eyes. The mysterious figure had since descended from their seat on the goddess statue and was now caressing his bulbous face with a cold, chapped hand. Gilgamek shivered in disgust, and despite his desire to dart away, made not a move. The foreigner giggled.

"I suppose it is only fair if I share my true identity with you. Even if you are too stupid to have figured it out on your own by now. I would say that your propensity for research is something to be desired, though. Keep those eyes open, you disgusting man. I want you to savor this view for all its worth."

Gilgamek did as he was told, not out of obedience so much out of uncertainty of where else to look or what else to do.

There was a great flash and then a shattering sound. The swamp was suddenly filled with a blinding light, which started as a small orb and then burst forth in millions of white, glowing rays. Gilgamek shielded his eyes with his hand when closing his eyes was not enough to prevent the light from burning through and stinging his pupils. Even after the light had dissipated, it was a moment before the motley-colored circles passed from Gilgamek's vision and he could see the full figure that was presented before him.

No less than six feet tall and slender and shapely as a ballerina, a chalk-colored and elegant woman stood before him. She was cloaked in silky, regal robes of dark indigo that hung loosely from her shoulders. Along her clavicle bone and holding her robes together was an intricately carved [noun], crafted in a glittering white gold. The same precious metal was welded into vine-like bangles along her wrists and biceps. She also wore lustrous body armor that shielded her soft, but shapely breasts and accentuated the curve of her hips and her waist. It cut off along the thigh where her pale white flesh showed. She wore Grecian gladiator sandals with silver straps bound round her calves and carried a scepter that was almost as tall as she.

It was her face though, which astonished Gilgamek the most-because past those delicate, high cheek bones and that subtly angled chin, he saw eyes that he could never have forgotten. Eyes that simmered with the red of charred coals, rather than the burst of hot flame. Eyes that glimmered with the subdued shine of freshly spilled blood. Eyes of great foreboding. Eyes that witnessed some of the foulest horrors of the universe. Eyes that watched crimes of unparalleled atrocity occur. Eyes that sought out power, power, and more power.

They were the same eyes of him… Lord Frieza.

"Y-y-you… you are him… I mean, his… h-his…"

"Beautiful daughter?" the woman suggested with an arched brow and a sly smile. "I'm afraid not, but I appreciate the compliment, my dear. Guess again."

"L-lady Cold!" Gilgamek gasped with wonder. "I never… never thought I'd see the day when I set eyes on your grace. Oh your highness…"

Gilgamek tumbled forward and bowed deeply, scrambling forward to kiss the lady's feet, but she promptly splashed him in the face with the flick of her sandal.

"Back minion," she said sweetly. "Do you think I am so forgiving, when only just moments ago you brandished a blade against me?"

"Forgive me your highness!" Gilgamek cried out, flailing his arms. "I was out of my mind, weak and confused. I would never have guessed it was your beauteous grace underneath all those robes. I was a fool, an idiot, a buffoon… forgive me, forgive me please!"

"We shall see about that," Lady Cold said coolly. "I do not easily forgive, and your crime would have amounted to nothing short of treason if you were fully aware of my identity. But since you were not… and since I still have purpose for you, perhaps we can work out a plan for you to regain your honor?"

"Oh, Lady Cold... you are as merciful as they say. A-a-and it is you! You!" Gilgamek started sputtering with excitement. "You are the one who wants to bring back his Lord Frieza. Of course! Of course! It all makes sense now. Oh my queen! I will gladly serve you to revive his almighty emperor! Please, tell me how I can be of service and I will do all that is in my power to assist you."

"Your compliance is greatly appreciated," Lady Cold cooed. "I should like to return to my original question, if you are now willing to oblige me."

"Yes, yes, of course my queen! How stupid I was before… how moronic… I was such a foolish…"

"Enough!" Lady Cold rapped her scepter on one of the nearby rocks and her voice, booming and low, echoed through the swamp. "A yes or a no will do Gilgamek, unless I specifically request for further elaboration. Do I make myself clear?'

"Yes, m'Lady," Gilgamek meekly replied.

"Good." Lady Cold smiled coldly. She turned to the statue of Mycoli, looking her up and down.

"Tell me, Gilgamek… who is fairer? Your mushroom goddess or myself?"

Gilgamek gulped. "My Lady, you are undoubtedly fair – a woman of unparalleled beauty! No queen can compare."

"Gilgamek, is that what I asked you?"

"T'is a grave sin, Lady Cold, to compare her Goddess Mycoli to…"

"GILGAMEK, IS THAT WHAT I ASKED YOU?"

Suddenly, Lady Cold aimed her scepter at Gilgamek and a shot of electricity burst forth, devouring Gilgamek's warty flesh with its hot charge of current. He shook and wailed as the subatomic particles snapped viciously along his skin, feeling the friction between them burn. It was pure, unbridled agony. When Lady Cold ended the spell, he collapsed back in the swamp and dry heaved.

Lady Cold sneered in disgust and waited a moment for the fat blob of fungus to compose himself. She tapped her scepter impatiently while waiting for him to sit back up and stop wavering. When he was able to look at her, albeit through droopy lidded eyes, she repeated her question.

"Let's try that again, Gilgamek. Who is fairer? This disgusting lump of mold, or your High Empress Lady Cold?"

Gilgamek choked back a sob and murmured a response while looking down.

"Shall we try the electricity again, my dear?"

"You are fairest, m'Lady." Gilgamek wished he could eat the words back up as soon as he said them. He promptly vomited into the swamp pool. In a split second, he had betrayed his god of childhood – something he had not even done for his Lord Frieza. But then again, he could share his plate between a god and a goddess, where it was impossible for two goddesses to rein without rivalry.

"Ah, excellent. Just the words I needed to boost my confidence. And now, you shall tell me about these treasures."

Lady Cold dangled the vial of vitalium between her thumb and fore finger. Gilgamek peered at the floating elements through weary, watery eyes and paused. This was his final fork in the road. He could either betray the queen now and die a surely gruesome death at the hand of her scepter, thus forced to face the unknowns of the after life, or he could share the secrets of his people with her, long held secrets that he had no right to divulge, and prepare for the return of a tyrant who would bring order and oppression in equal measure to the universe.

Gilgamek chose the known over the unknown, tempered fear over immeasurable terror.

In less than fifteen minutes, he had shared with Lady Cold all the details of vitalium's properties and the possibility they created for resurrection.

To be continued

~Fina Arvanthol