“We’re champions of the Right Religion, demon… ruddy, demon face!” challenged Ushwan.
“Your eloquence fails you, monk!”
“Look, evil one,” continued Ushwan. “Is there no peaceful way out of this? My friends simply came here to rescue me and wish to leave in peace; no further bloodshed. You must understand that my life was rather imperilled by that sacrifice intended for you. Come, old boy, play the game! Let us go free!”
Asharru laughed heartily.
“How can someone who doesn’t even exist be amused?” Ffen pondered.
“I do exist, infidel!” the creature cried. “Now, feel my wrath!”
He raised his pike which lit up with an ethereal glow. It burned red and then, directed towards the companions, blasted them with an explosion of energy. They were all knocked off their feet and rendered unconscious. Turning to the main entrance, he motioned with the pike and it opened, allowing the watchmen to pour in.
“Ftôn garsh-krâ (bind them)!” he roared.
The watchmen, amazed to behold their deity, fell to their knees in adoration.
“Lâmi-krâ (rise)!” he commanded. “Ffi ftôn garsh-krâ. Heshnîsh dhîl-im ftôn adhem-krâ ffi gaff-ôn ish-krâ ffeyka-yem ftôn lîshum-ehê! Yîlâ yamakhsh-go kheyâ shîb khon-ish. Metshu okh-im erim-krâ! Khû ffaidh dhîd-ehê okh-ish (and bind them. Take them back to the platform and make ready to feed them to the worm. It shall be a special sacrifice indeed. Bring me the Sage! I must heal him)!”
The watchmen, eager to please, complied, binding the unfortunate companions with fast ropes and bringing the Sage to Asharru. Spreading his hands over the Sage’s recumbent body, he was enveloped in a ruddy glow. Healed and refreshed, the Sage leapt off the stretcher and prostrated himself before the dark being.
“My lord, what is thy command?”
“Find the Priestess, bring her to me for judgement, and find the other monk. He is too close to great power. Kill him before he endangers the holy temple. If you fail to kill him, you shall die and I will deal with him myself. Is that understood?”
“Yes, lord,” said the Sage submissively.
“Very good. I shall be waiting in the Inner Sanctum where I shall be pleasuring my handmaidens. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!”
He continued chuckling maniacally as he retreated into his chamber. The Sage called five watchmen to accompany him as he headed down the staircase which leads to the underground caverns beneath the temple.
Ifunka and his erstwhile captor, the Priestess, were near the base of the staircase when they heard the pitter-patter of footsteps far above them. Someone or some people were descending rapidly near the entrance.
“They’re coming,” whispered Ifunka. “We won’t be able to get any wooden planks to form a bridge.”
“Quickly—we must return to the treasures below.”
“But how shall we reach them?” asked Ifunka.
“You fear too much, my sweetness. There is always a way but we must reach it before they come for us. My life is void if you do not succeed just as my heart is void if devoid of your love.”
“My heart belongs to another,” said Ifunka firmly. “Arwa is my true love.”
“Khalam-Sharru’s daughter is a mere child. I can teach you the fullness of true passion and bliss.”
“I think not, Priestess.”
“Let’s go; perchance we can find a place to stow away and enjoy one another.”
“Focus!” he urged her. “Take us back to the treasure and help me to find a way of reaching it.”
“As you wish, my rabbit.”
They rushed back from whence they had come, racing to return to the fathomless abyss which protected the ancient treasures of power before they could be espied by the pursuing watchmen. Before they reached the final chamber, Ifunka noticed a subtle light which hovered to the far right of them. He paused.
“What is it? Come on!” the Priestess shouted.
“Wait a moment,” he commanded as he continued to ponder the glow which seemed to increase in radiance, flash and then decrease until it became only a faint light.
“I can see it,” she said. “But what is it?”
“I thought you might know,” said Ifunka, disappointed. “We’d better investigate.”
“Investigate? You’re going to get us killed. Who knows how many evil creatures live in this pitch blackness?”
“Maybe so,” he admitted. “But we were heading for a dead end and certain confrontation with the Sage and his watchmen, who are no doubt making for us as we speak. Soon they will see us and then we will have no choice but to fight or die, or fight and then die, as the Great Spirit wills.”
“And if this betokens an even worse fate?”
“As the Great Spirit wills.”
“Very well, then,” she agreed. “Let’s find this light of yours, my rabbit, whether it lead us to doom or fortune.”
“Come then!”
They rushed into the darkness, not knowing what lay ahead of them—whether a hidden ledge and precipice or a sheer wall; they could not discern. They continued for some time, never reaching the light which remained ever equidistant with its previous manifestation, as if it either moved constantly in reverse or appeared the same distance at all times by decreasing in size or radiance as they approached or, perhaps, like some distant star, it was so huge and so distant that the distance they traversed was insignificant in comparison with the remaining span of traversion.
“This is taking forever,” the Priestess moaned.
“For an old woman, you’re considerably lacking in patience.”
“Old woman!” she scoffed. “An old woman who could eat you alive, you silly boy!”
Suddenly the light flashed and formed the glowing outline of a door and then disappeared. They rushed towards it and felt the cold, stony door. The light was gone but they could feel the cracks of its edges.
“How does it open?” Ifunka asked.
“Use the ruby,” suggested the Priestess.
Ifunka felt for a keyhole and then, taking the ruby, he fit it into the lock, twisted it and the door slowly opened. He then retrieved the ruby and they entered. The chamber was bathed in light, the walls in shimmering gold and the floors resplendent granite. As they entered, the door sealed behind them and they were lost, confused, benumbed by the blinding light and vibrating energy which engulfed them.
“Great Spirit! Where are we?”
“Denor oplisiv (in another place),” said a voice in Vocatae. It was a familiar voice. “Taila oplisiv (in a safe place).”
“Who are you?”
“Vocataetae adiemmon leso? Cubenratae adiemmon leso (have you forgotten Vocatae? And have you forgotten me)?”
“What is that voice—it speaks the ancient tongue—the Foxish tongue?” asked the Priestess.
“It’s the being—the watcher I saw in my dream.”
“You had a vision?”
“I was in a vast plain of everlasting immensity and wondrous light. I saw a great owl which spoke to me in words of mystery. It said it was a watcher but not a god.”
“That’s impossible. You saw another like Asharru.”
“Enra ca anaux Asarrum le (I am not like Asharru),” said the voice. “Cum hrhauiphut quodcarae le avienutom iliphon amutae le. Enra aerd denor aredae—pheum cub ared levoneic cacansa amenic phel celphic amonirelaphadrevur enin (he is an embodiment of evil whereas I am a champion of good. I am the king of another realm—a realm of beings of great power who watch over the galaxy).”
“The gods! The gods of light who oppose the gods of darkness!” exclaimed the Priestess. “Haff-Lîsh and Asharru are in eternal war with the gods of light.”
“Nonsense!” said Ifunka. “There is only one God—the Great Spirit!”
“Amaneciu venda noiucmon le—aviumciu amane ca le, pheum cub si
ng tathelonai. Enra Solis le avium Ammon Raetomaehrhon venda noiuc, sonni cabca ieditom vamint le phal xela arretaphaisiv (men have called us gods—but we are not gods, only protectors, defenders of the light. I am called Solis, but your people call me Amon-Ra, by which name I am known also on some other planets).”
“Amon-Ra!” the Priestess exclaimed as she bowed prostrate on the ground.
“Enra Asarrum ca le (I am not Asharru),” said Amon-Ra. “Ca parlagutonaitom soji. Sing Ramut phel Cacansa Vabaideicei vam parlagutarum. Cum Amantuad pheum cub veil iosutae. Enra alam Ramutae le, anaux oucau saphai oucau arretaisiv celphic cadolin siphie. Asarrum thehoicra, Preduom, cubtaehrhon caucreaquun quelicuteam vathiacra (I need no worshippers. Worship only God, Whom ye know as the Great Spirit. He is Almighty and worthy of praise. I am a slave of God, as are all men on all worlds in this limitless universe. Forsake Asharru, Priestess, and atone for thine innumerable sins).”
“Cumen thehoi (I forsake him),” she replied in Vocatae. “Enra aciaha quelicon le. Caemye di Aman le (I am a terrible sinner. There is only one God).”
“Amut wav (very well),” replied Amon-Ra.
“Ves ciuamtae coji, om Aerd (what do you want from us, O King)?” asked Ifunka.
“Asarrumtae cuint cone, Iphunca Capha, phada Candaspuic (thou must defeat Asharru, Ifunka Kaffa, son of Kandaspu).”
“Ium vani (but how)?”
The light diminished somewhat, and Amon-Ra appeared before them in an owl-form hovering in the air before them.
“Caemye maitu cacansa amenae phetisie tumragahimae. Tem Mirad Maitu cabca amen uontouog cub gudouogae oucau miraleca leconae into. Tumra maiavadi sarusiv, vanon amantu eldgou ucre zela. Laphatiph, osmoson amena levonap celphic maitu phultiphint lecon (there is a coin of great power on the island in the midst of the abyss. It is the Verdant Coin which contains a power of control and manipulation of all vegetable life. In the midst of a barren desert, the possessor can grow a mighty forest. Moreover, the bearer of this coin shall himself be transformed into a powerful being).”
“Vani maituciu gesiamconso (how shall we reach the coin)?”
“Celphic revurona (with this bridge).”
Amon-Ra pointed to a thin metal board.
“Raliscra; tem gehrha le (have faith; it is strong).”
Ifunka lifted it and made ready to leave.
“Xohrhocra (wait)!” said the owl. “Maitu sohrhab varninae le. Hrhuin wonphicra arn egiptusa levontaesip emiphcon (the coin is full of danger. Master yourself or it shall make thee a vengeful being).”
“Quebaconen, om Aerd (I shall, O King),” said Ifunka. “Leci deacra, Phada Candaspuic. Maitu ademcra cub Asarrum conecra. Celp oucau le (then go, Son of Kandaspu. Take the coin and defeat Asharru. That is all).”
They backed away respectfully and then exited the luminescent chamber which vanished behind them. Carrying the metal board carefully, they quickly paced back to the entrance of the final chamber. They were too late, however, as the Sage appeared, fully healed, with a cohort of five watchmen armed to the teeth. They hid in the shadows as the watchmen passed by, hoping to avoid detection. As they approached the abyss, the Sage called for them to halt.
“They’re here somewhere. Hushrev-krâ, shaff-zen!” he ordered, commanding his men to move out
The guardsmen spread out and searched all sides of the room, every corner, nook and cranny, but returned unsuccessful.
“What shall we do?” whispered the Priestess.
“Amon-Ra must mean for us to succeed somehow. He is ‘watching’ after all.”
“I can feel them,” said the Sage as he closed his eyes in concentration. “Emerald of insight, reveal the truth!”
As he continued to meditate on the problem, Ifunka felt as if a hidden eye were upon him when, suddenly, the Sage opened his eyes and smiled.
“Loft, shivatish rafflî-yog,” he said, meaning ‘there, near the entrance’.
The watchmen rushed back to the mouth of the cavern, weapons raised. Alarmed, Ifunka and the Priestess ran but were quickly overtaken by the watchmen, who seized them roughly.
“Ffataff yêsh-zen! Predh-bara-yei okh-ish (mad dogs! I am the Priestess)!” she screamed in disgust. “Okh khudhalff-krâ (unhand me)!”
“Unhand you?” asked the Sage. “How many men have ‘handled’ you? You’re little more than a prostitute.”
“I am a Priestess!” she exclaimed.
“Of Asharru? Then where is your loyalty—helping a khaffshik to reach the sacred jewels?”
“I was forced,” she replied.
“So you claim, but I can see he has already corrupted your mind. Why else did you run instead of waiting for us to rescue you?”
“I was afraid.”
“Do you still believe that Asharru is our true lord?”
“I… no,” she replied.
“Your own tongue condemns you! I wish I could kill you right here and now but his lordship desires to judge you himself. Khô teyadhim-krâ (take her away)!”
“Leave her alone!” Ifunka shouted.
“Oh, I see you are soft for her, Ifunka,” observed the Sage. “Have you enjoyed the delights of her thighs? Does she have a place in your heart?”
“My heart belongs to Arwa.”
“Don’t worry; she’ll be eaten by the worm soon.”
“Damn you!” Ifunka cried.
“Not so religious now, are we, monk?”
“I shall kill you, Shaff,” said Ifunka coldly. “You shall die and this whole city shall burn.”
“What power do you have, monk? You’re impotent—utterly powerless. Shall I show you something? This will delight you, I’m sure.”
He motioned to the watchman.
“Leib khô-yan gîshem-krâ (tear off her clothes)!” he ordered. “I want to enjoy her before she is killed by Asharru.”
“No, you bastard!”
Bursting free from a watchman’s grasp, he grabbed hold of his captor’s axe and swung it into the watchman’s ribs, splitting his chest. Pulling it free, he lobbed it at the watchman who was about to disrobe the Priestess, burying deep into the watchman’s belly, spilling his entrails.
“Kill him!” the Sage cried.
Ifunka picked up his fallen enemy’s sword and, holding it two-handed, swung it wildly at the three watchmen who now assailed him. With one blow he slashed a watchman’s arm, who tripped and fell in front of the middle watchman’s legs, causing him to stumble and fall forward. Ifunka stabbed the fallen watchman in the back of his neck and pierced the other’s back, sticking through his lungs. The last approached him from behind. Enraged, Ifunka swung round, blade in hand, simultaneously slashing through the poor devil’s belly. Grasping his outflowing intestines and vital organs, the foeman gurgled at the mouth and, vomiting bile, collapsed dead as a doornail. Breathing heavily and exhausted, Ifunka was drenched in blood. His eyes were wild like an angered beast raging in the night.
“Who else will taste death at my hands?” he challenged. “You, Shaff? Come then, bard; spill your blood!”
“You love this woman, don’t you, Ifunka?”
The Sage held the Priestess in his grasp, a knife held to her throat.
“I love her as a brother does his sister,” Ifunka replied evasively.
“Come now, we’re old friends. There’s no need for lies among friends. You love Arwa; I understand that. But why do you value this woman so much if you do not love her. Do you not covet her as a lover?”
“Your words offend me, bard!”
“The truth cuts like a blade!” the Sage replied.
“I love you, my rabbit,” said the Priestess in bated breath.
“Then bleed for your love!” exclaimed the Sage as he swiftly sliced her neck, which spurted blood in abundance.
Her eyes stared in final shock and her body went limp.
“Nooooo!” Ifunka screamed as he grabbed an axe and, doubly armed, charged at the Sage swinging wildly like an enraged berserker.
He swung his axe and sword in furied motion, striking the Sage’s sword with one blow and hacking his knife-wielding arm with the other, causing the Sage to drop both his weapons and seize his mangled limb in agony.
“My arm!” he screamed as his shoulder haemorrhaged torrents of blood.
“I shall rise again in Asharraff!” he cried.
“Don’t count on it!” Ifunka quipped as he dismembered the Sage’s remaining limbs.
“Death for you shall be slow indeed,” said Ifunka. “Savour your wounds as you prepare for entrance to Gahimka and the flames of hell-fire. Fire everlasting shall burn your every limb and flesh while demons shall prod and torment you in never-ending torture. Such is the fate of the infidels!”
“Mercy, brother,” pleaded the Sage. “Finish me off!”
“My heart has no more room for mercy,” said Ifunka stoically. “Now I feel only hate and rage. I shall tear Asharru limb from limb and raze this city, and all its people—man, woman and child—to the ground.”
“Then I shall see you in Gahimka, then?”
“As the Great Spirit wishes,” he replied as he set off for the treasury, picking up the metal board and leaving the Sage to bleed to death in utter loneliness, humiliation and degradation.
Returning to the final chamber, Ifunka laid the metal board over the chasm and slowly—cautiously—crossed over onto the central island. Gold and jewels abounded with open treasure chests pregnant with coins, pearls, diamonds, rubies, emeralds and sapphires. Bars of precious platinum were stacked near the middle. At the very centre was a raised platform, like an altar but circular, upon which sat a singular coin which flashed and gleamed in the light of Ifunka’s torch. It shimmered green as he approached it. Characters in ffokatai script were hewn in a ring around it which read: MIRAD MAITU SOLISAE—PHEUM CUB DI RUBA MAITUSINAE; AMEN LECONAE CUB UONTOUOG MIRALEC ARRETREVUR (‘The Verdant Coin of Solis, one of many coins; the power of life and control over the vegetable world’). As he read the words out loud, uttering them in solemn tone, he seized the coin in hand. It was cold, smooth and wide; indeed, so smooth and polished was it that he could see his image reflected perfectly.
The Rise of Plant Man, Lord of War, Conquest and Revenge: Green Monk of Tremn, Part II (Coins of Amon-Ra Book 2) Page 14