“Massacred?” Celóndas exclaimed. Her reaction was as if she had just been told that her own children had been murdered.
“Massacred, butchered, tortured! They were ruthless.” It was as if the whole event played itself out behind Taigo’s bright blue eyes. “I will take you to the Watch but there will be nothing you wish to find there. Only ash and dust.”
This is not the time to ask the poor boy more questions, Londenia thought as her heart sank for Taigo’s clear sense of loss. She looked the boy up and down. He reminded her of a skinnier version of Romarus but with slightly thicker lips and jet-black, short, woolly, hair. His mouth hung open slightly and his eyes had a blank expression, as if he was holding up a shield to his mind.
“It’s getting dark. We are only an hour away from the Meeren village,” Taigo said, turning to walk the dirt track with his taller inked and pierced companion falling into line.
They followed the two brown bodies for some time before turning off the path and into the thick of the forest as the light shining through the leaves began to fade. The glow from the broken moon sufficed as their eyes adjusted, although the tribesman and Londenia’s brown-eyed people struggled in the dimness. It was only around two hundred footfalls from the forest path before they were surrounded by fire-torches, jutting from the trees. One giant hackle tree stood out from the rest. All of them were massive, but this one’s trunk was so thick that six mortals could live happily on one level inside its girth. Around it, wound spiral steps jutting out like perfectly straight branches.
They began to climb and as she neared thirty steps high, Londenia had to force herself not to look down. She kept close to the trunk as there was nothing but air to the outside of the steps. It was impossible not to let eyes wander down and through the gaps.
They were in the canopy and above their heads was a wooden roof. Thank the Ten we’re nearly there, she praised, as she neared an opening. As she raised her head above the roof she realized it was actually a floor. She stepped onto the landing, which opened up twenty footfalls in all directions with a wooden barrier around the edge. Outwith the barrier was a sea of dimly lit hackle leaves, as far as the eye could see. Taigo pointed to eight animal-skin tents that dotted the platform. “These are yours for the night. This is the safest place we can offer you to sleep. The rest of us will sleep on the lower platforms.”
“I thank you for your hospitality. We are most grateful,” she said, sincerely.
With a bow, Taigo and the brown man took their leave down the spiral stairs. Londenia’s party dispersed into the tents. She and Romarus took the tent nearest the edge of the platform. The other seven were occupied equally between the rest of the group.
Londenia crawled into the warm skin tent with Romarus. A tray of dried meat and berries lay on the floor next to the soft bedding. Polite as ever, Romarus began to stuff his face. After a few mouthfuls he offered Londenia some. The meat was salty, making her mouth water. A skin lay next to the food. As she popped the cork, she hoped for water. I couldn’t stomach wine right now, she thought, as the first drops hit her mouth. Cool clear water coated her tongue. She gulped half the skin. The chilled liquid moved down her throat, flooding through her chest.
The threat they were to find out in Mor hung over her like a dark cloud. Now there was more looming. In the morning, they would head towards a more immediate darkness in the Watch Kingdom. If what Taigo spoke of is the same threat that the magisters wished to warn us of, then I do not think I am ready yet to handle something they say will be more devastating than the Great Poison. But if this were not the threat they spoke of, and was an entirely different one, then it has just added to our burden.
Londenia tried to ease her mind before sleeping. She focused her attention on the here and now, in their comfortable and safe tent. Romarus polished off most of the food and began to disrobe. She wriggled out of her own clothes and lay naked on the soft bedding. Her king knelt naked, facing away from her, finishing off the last of the forest berries. There was a yearning inside her to be satisfied as she had the night before in Hal Tal. I cannot ask him to do that again for me, she told herself. He did it of his own free will. It wasn’t as if it was some desperate queen begging her king to pleasure her. I was serving him like his horde does. He was enjoying it. The other part of her was trying to reassure the resistant part. If he chooses then surely there is no dishonor.
She lay back and opened her legs with a stretch and a slight moan. As Romarus turned around, she smiled at him and rubbed one of her nipples. He smiled back and lay down beside her. The night air was warm and they lay without blankets. Facing each other, Londenia smiled again and ran her hands over her body. Romarus scratched himself, leaned in close to her face and pressed his lips to her forehead. “Night Blessings,” he said, smiling. He flipped over and was silent.
The frustration kept her awake for a few hours. She lay there staring at the muscles on his back, lit by the fading candle. His soft snoring confirmed he would not be pleasuring her tonight. The level of her disappointment surprised her. She turned over to face away from him. As she got comfortable again, Romarus stirred and turned. He wrapped his arm around her, fitting his body to hers like a big spoon around a little spoon. He almost immediately began to snore again. Londenia felt his stiff cock behind her rear. She reached down and tried to copy what Romarus had done the night before.
To you I give the title of “Mister” and it is you who will guide the chosen brothers in this dark time. You will guide them until I see fit to bring the goddesses back to the world.
Scroll 4:3 of the Mother
Owin
A boom and a bloody sky
He sat in the darkened room wearing only his white toweling around his waist. This was the moment he had waited for all his life. Already, he felt the throbbing down below in anticipation. It was a warm place but still, he shivered. Owin’s jaw chattered but he wasn’t cold. With a gentle spark, the fire spread in front of him in a square no bigger than half a normal bed. It was a placid steady fire, with no sparks. The unbroken noise calmed his mind…but not his quivering jaw, which still rattled his teeth.
The light from the fire revealed the plain wooden walls of the small vision chamber. The room was so narrow there was only a slight gap at either side of the fire pit that even Owin would struggle to fit through. Squinting his eyes, he tried to see the far away wall. It was surely only around five paces away from him but it was clouded in darkness. He looked down to the soft leather seat hugging his body. It extended back nearly to the door behind him, making a giant curve. His towel was pointing up and, for the first time in his life, he was allowed to pleasure himself. A brother will not soil his own body by laying hands upon his own. It is the goddesses who will bring him ecstasy, if he is worthy. These were the words he was taught, but the Mister also spoke of this room. It was a reward for brothers who had faithfully served. And a chance to taste even a small part of what awaited them in the next life or, for the chosen few, on the Hidden Womb in this life.
As he opened his white toweling and let both ends fall to either side of his thighs, it revealed his cock standing upright. He grabbed it with his right hand tightly and slowly pulled up and down. The young brother threw his head back. Teeth grinding. His hand moved rapidly. Up and down. It was like an itch he was never able to reach before.
Suddenly, an image on the far wall beyond the flames came to him. Within seconds, it was gone. She was…her skin…her…breasts…I want to rub her. Thoughts flew through his mind as the vision of the tantalizing goddess stuck in his head. He had seen the hangings in the House of the Mother but in those, they were covered. This goddess was naked.
His hand never moved so fast. The speed nearly tore his skin but he didn’t care. Frustration of years of waiting came out all in one. He stood up, waddling, knock-kneed a few steps closer to the fire, begging in his mind for the goddess’s image to return. Come on, for fuck sake! Come back. With his back hunched over and his face screwed up in f
rustrated twists and gasps, he was glad he was alone.
Another flash! This time she moved. The goddess ran her hands up and down her smooth olive skin. “Yes! Please stay!” Owin begged, his voice shaking at the same speed as his rapid right hand. His left hand didn’t know what to do. He put it on his lower back for support but it just wanted to curl up and rest on his chest. She’s looking right at me.
His eyes wandered down the vision of the goddess to her sacred place; where a brother would enter her and give his seed. She just kept staring at Owin, looking deep into his eyes. She wants me to lay with her. Fuck, is she even really here? “Come through the flames,” he moaned through gritted teeth, not really expecting any kind of reply. His forearm throbbed and his legs shook from standing in the strange position. But something stirred below. He thrust his hips in a way that just felt like it had to be done. Everything was getting tighter and tighter and then…
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, ahhhhhhhh!”
His body relaxed and when he looked down at his hand he saw his white seed shoot, hitting his chest. He tilted it forward with a steady hand as the next pulse shot into the fire, towards the image of the goddess. “Yeahhhhh,” he gasped and breathed in as the pulses began to slow. The image of the goddess faded but after that moment, it didn’t bother him. The itch had been scratched. He stepped back and sank into the leather chair. All of the waiting had been worth it. If this was just part of what would come to him after death, he was happy to give his life in service to the Mother.
He lay on his bed still satisfied with what he had experienced hours earlier. A cool night breeze whistled gently through the window. Swinging his feet around out of bed, he got up and walked out of the room. His body felt light and he wanted to skip down the hall. As he arrived at the main door to the pod, he ran. The broken moon lit the grass field enough for him to sprint without worrying about tripping or banging into anything. And like all the brothers on the island, he could see very well in the dimly moonlit night.
The wind blew his hair as he raced across the field with his arms outstretched to the side. The Mother drove his legs with limitless power. He didn’t need to stop but he did anyway. The knee-high grass broke his fall as he threw himself backwards. He looked up at the sky. The thick band of stars arched overhead. The rest of the blackness was dotted with thousands of other twinkling dots. As he savored the fresh air, he started to count the many stars that the Mother had created. He looked at the broken moon which seemed so close he could clearly see the sharp edges of the three large chunks missing from its otherwise round shape.
“Mother, thank you for delivering me to your island. Thank you, Mother, for letting me stay on this place that you protect over and above all others,” he whispered.
BOOM… A dull, heavy, distant rumble. Owin sprang up. His heart thumped in his chest. Everything went eerily quiet. The sound was distant but Owin could tell it was loud wherever it had actually happened. He turned around slowly. A faint red glow washed the dark horizon, far off the island, out into the Horned Sea. It rippled like a pool of blood over the sky. As soon as it caught his eye, it began to fade.
He walked towards the general direction of where the red glow came from…not really expecting to get any closer to it, as it must have been many leagues away. He froze when the glow completely disappeared. Rubbing his eyes and squinting through the darkness, he stood still, trying not to make a sound that might stop him from hearing it again. What the fuck was that?
The next day he sat at the long breakfast table in the House of the Mother with all the other brothers. They were bustling around him, going up to the table where the food was, helping themselves to boiled eggs, sizzling fish and bowls of fresh berries from the forest. He had his head down staring into his bowl of cold porridge, twirling a spoon through it slowly in random patterns.
If it was a sign from the Mother last night, it surely wouldn’t have been so unsettling. He couldn’t get the power of that deep far away boom out of his head, nor could he forget the shimmery red glow.
“Is something troubling you, Owin?” the Mister spoke softly, appearing over the young brother’s shoulder.
“No, I’m just not hungry at the moment.” He tried to sound upbeat so as not to cause more worry.
With a pat on the shoulder, the Mister left the dining hall and the rabble seemed to fill the room and Owin’s ears.
He looked up at the serving table and saw his friend Baskie, who had come back to the island nearly half a moon-turn ago. He picked up every bit of food and sniffed it before piling it onto the plate. It was as if he was stocking up for some kind of famine. He’s like a wild animal. He’d only visited the island a couple of times and hadn’t been seen in over a year.
There was something that drew the two of them together. They both liked to be away from others and were quite happy to sit in the same room and say nothing. All the brothers on the island were always shouting—needing to fill every bit of silence.
There was something different about Baskie this time. It was as if he had grown up since the last occasion when he visited the island. Grown up in his head that is, for he was still younger than Owin, but his mind seemed to be clearer and more stubborn.
Baskie took his plate over and sat next to Owin. “Have you seen? They’ve got this black stuff on the fish. I smelt it and it made me sneeze. Tastes so good though,” Baskie said as he chomped into the fish.
“It’s pepper…” Owin said bluntly.
“It’s great, you should try it,” Baskie said, then swallowed a mouthful of water from a wooden cup.
Owin didn’t answer. Now all he could hear was chewing and plate noises with the occasional over enthusiastic glug glug of water.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” mumbled Owin.
Baskie stabbed a whole fillet of the fish, taking big bites out of it and spat when he spoke. “Something happened when you ran out of the pod last night. You just took off and ran. You disappeared for a while, then came running back in and were all quiet. I saw you. I was sitting up on the roof of your pod. I see a lot of things.” He rambled on. “Just tell me, it’ll help. I’ve seen a lot of things. Whatever you saw won’t scare me. I’ve been everywhere. I saw a bird fall out of the sky once.” He slammed his hand on the table. “Heard three people fucking in a barn. Three of them! I’ve seen a bronco with no horns with a neck eight times longer than it should be and seen them with black and white spots too! I’ve seen the tallest buildings you could ever imagine in the Dead Cities. I’ve seen—”
“I heard a noise, okay…” Owin snapped to stop Baskie from chirping on.
“I’ve heard lots of noises too. What kind of noise?”
“Like a boom, far off in the distance and then there was—”
“—A red thing?”
“Yes!” Owin looked up from his porridge, suddenly interested in what Baskie had to say. “You saw it last night too?”
“Yup,” Baskie confirmed, “and I’ve seen it once before that as well. It was about two moon-turns ago when I was on this island called Jarju, east of here. It’s the closest piece of land to Beverine’s Shield. I think that’s where the glows are coming from.”
Bev-what Shield? Baskie’s ramblings confused him. Well at least I’m not going crazy, Owin thought. It felt a relief that somebody else knew about the strange experience in that field. This was probably the most Owin had ever spoken to Baskie but he still considered him a friend. Owin knew almost nothing about him. They just did stuff together whenever he was on the island. They’d fish, hunt cottontails and fire arrows.
“You want to spar later?” Owin asked, trying give himself something to do to take his mind off that deathly boom from the night before.
“After breakfast in the ring? We could do long-staff,” Baskie answered quickly.
Frazer popped up between Owin and Baskie’s heads. “I can help. Or you could teach me. I’ve not really done long-staff much.”
“You’ll
just get hurt!” Baskie said sharply.
“You can come and watch,” offered Owin. The boy always tagged along with other people, never really fitting in, so Owin felt sorry for him. But his blond brother could hold his own in the ring. In fact, without a weapon, he was one of the best of the younger brothers on the island.
“Okay, I’ll watch. Then I might learn more and could join in another time,” he suggested but didn’t get an answer from either Baskie or Owin.
After breakfast, Owin walked with Baskie to the ring where the sparring trials took place on the island. Whenever he stepped into the sandy circle, he felt a tingle and the strength of the Mother flowing through him. He stretched his arms out, breathed in deep and looked around. The sea was about two hundred paces away. In the distance was the House of the Mother, with its ten tall standing stones surrounding it. The arcs of the grass roofs of the two timber pods hid in the midst of the green fields.
The long-staff he held in his right hand was made of light bendy wood and stood taller than he was. Owin wore loose-fitting trousers and a tighter cotton top. The young brother preferred to fight bare footed. Baskie, all in black, stood at the side of the ring. Owin began to spin the long-staff. Dropping it effortlessly to his left side and spinning it back to the right, then overhead. As he looked up at the staff, it strobed the sunlight. Snatching it in two hands, he went into a violent and sharp figure of eight. Then back to his right hand, spinning it to his left side, snapping it to a stop behind his right shoulder.
He heard clapping. When he turned towards the sea, Frazer was smiling, watching him.
“Thanks.” Owin laughed awkwardly, partially enjoying the fact that somebody had seen his skill.
Owin started spinning again. He breathed easily and his mind relaxed whenever the staff moved effortlessly around him—spinning so fast it felt like he had a giant shield protecting him. It cut through the wind with a dull buzz. Spinning in his right hand again, he snapped it to a stop behind his shoulder and turned to Baskie.
A Poisoned Land (Book 1: Faith, Lies and Blue Eyes) Page 9