The Kingdom of Ecstasy

by S. R. Laubrea



  The Kingdom of Ecstasy

  by S. R. Laubrea

  Contents

  Act 1:

  Ritual

  Proposal

  Property

  Oracle

  Tyiha

  Ascension

  Respite

  Princes

  Fragments

  Act 2:

  Xei-kind

  Threshold

  Nature

  Third Born

  Transcendence

  Treasonist

  Departure

  Small Fry

  Act 3:

  Imperceptible

  Succession

  Appendices & Whatnot

  Ritual Sacrifice and Aelyth

  Expansion and the Epochs

  Dyjian's Calendar

  Author Stuff

 

  Act 1:

  The Ivory Prince

  Ritual.

  Eiynvas 54th, the last day of the month of Schornn;

  Spring of the 691st year into the Second Epoch of Dyjian.

  The Alyi are not gods. Although divine in nature, and possessing great powers beyond a man's wildest imagining, the Alyi despise reverence in all its forms.

  This much was common knowledge among all beings. Except for those that gathered in the temple dedicated to Mokallai.

  The Temple was a secured dome, an annex to a lofty estate in the center of the jungle continent, Phiiva. There was no other place like it, because the indigenous peoples of Dyjian had no thought towards the worship of anything, not even Dyiij, the Alyi of the celestial domain.

  Within the temple was a circular dais towards one side so deemed the rear of the structure. Ornate kneeling cushions were arranged in a semicircle around the dais. The most prominent feature were the two statues that dominated the dais:

  A man, Fylus, made of brushed steel, wielded a scythe. Before him was a granite slab for sacrifices, and at the foot of the slab was a golden bowl where the blood of the sacrifice would be burned.

  Behind the man was a larger statue: a golden-eyed obsidian figure, poised like a saint in a silver robe. In the clutches of his ruby claws was a burgundy and turquoise globe of the planet. At the base of this statue, below the soles of his feet was the inscription:

  THE BLOOD OF THE FORFEIT GIVES LIFE TO FATE;

  Destiny is Sacrifice;

  PRAY THE WILL OF MOKALLAI BE absolute.

  "There is but one truth!" Fylus declared. He raised his hands to the ceiling, his chin tilted upwards, his sickly pink eyes gleaming in the light of the fire that blazed in the golden bowl. "Those who give in to Mokallai will rule as his Elect. You will be a chosen people, and he will see to your every desire. Give in to Fate!"

  The ones knelt bowed forward, chanted: "Destiny is sacrifice!"

  "We are a chosen race!"

  "Destiny is Sacrifice!" They raised their voices.

  "Hand over the forfeit."

  Four men designated as servitors of the Temple brought in a Kyusoa. The creature was bound at it's wrist and ankles with tungsten-carbonate bonds. It was a human-looking thing, having a woman's face, torso and arms. But its ears were as triangular sails, and its legs were tri-jointed. Yet these things walked upright on feet that bore a striking resemblance to human hands. From behind dangled a long, fleshy tail.

  This particular kyuosa scowled as the men carried her by means of two poles: one between her wrists, the other her ankles. She was a barren Tyiha, that is, a She-kyusoa, and the patron of the estate had declared her good for sacrifice. She wriggled the whole way down the aisle, but couldn't get free.

  The men set her on the granite slab. She arched her back and hissed. The slab was colder than dry ice. They slid the poles out and separated her arms and legs, chaining them to the rings on the side of the granite slab.

  Fylus chuckled as she wriggled and thrashed. A lively one this time. He adored when they didn't want to die. Because it made for a better show. He ran his hand leisurely along the side of the slab as he circled it thrice.

  Then he drew a dagger from off his belt, a gilded, serrated blade with teeth more menacing than the jaws of a shark. She froze as he pressed the cold blade to her neck.

  "The blood of the forfeit gives life to Fate," he whispered.

  She spat at him. "Kyida ja Alyi helmacht aasul!" She said: 'May the Alyi destine you to your death!'

  The teeth bit into her flesh, and he drew the knife deep across her throat. Her blood flowed into the grooves in the top of the slab, draining into the golden bowl. The fire woofed to life in bright hues of cyan and white, and the people bowed, silent.

  Great plumes of light snaked through the air. Plumes of Aelyth released by burning the tyiha's blood. Aelyth, that is, the power of her spirit, the force of her life; what Mokallai needed to sustain himself outside of a host.

  Fylus watched the aelyth whirl around the statue before stabbing into its eyes, symbolic of Mokallai absorbing the life of the tyiha. He grinned and turned towards the audience. "Pray the will of Mokallai be absolute."

  His words were well received. He delighted to see Ridd, the patron of the Ankuseth Estate, present. But as he scanned the faces of those attending he saw two standing just outside the entrance whose faces were alight with disgust.

  These ceremonies did not sit well with everyone. Ielase crossed her arms, shook her head and glared at Fylus. She had a mind to go in there and tell him off, but the weight of the hand of her older brother held her back. She knew Allondt meant well, resting a hand on her shoulder, but in her heated state, she wished he'd let her go.

  "Putrid," she seethed. "Just absolutely putrid. That vawd and his vlawdskemmung rituals."

  "Calm down," Allondt said. His voice was ever-smooth, even though he also despised seeing his father bowing before Fylus and the statue of Mokallai.

  "Freig," she swore, shoved his hand off of her and started for the skyway connecting the temple with the rest of the estate.

  Her brother cut her off. "What are you up to?"

  "What do you mean 'What am I up to'? I'm up to nothing and you know it." She moved around him.

  "Don't lie to me," he said, falling in-step beside her.

  She glared him down. How he knew her well. "I want to find someone who can put a stop to all this, to the sacrifices and stupidity." She sighed. "How much longer until they come for Rah'ii?"

  "You really care about that one." He chose his words carefully, knowing how his sister hated hearing the kyusoa be called 'beasts'.

  Rah'ii wasn't an animal. She knew it with both her hearts.

  "But you know he isn't going to let someone be around here for no reason."

  "Then fire someone else!" She snapped. "Get rid of that vawd who oversees the twenty-eighth enclave."

  "And who are we going to put in his place?"

  "The right person — I don't know. But if Pah asks where I am, tell him I'm headed to South Chanton for some cheese. I'll be taking Cou with me."

  "Alright then."

  They stopped and hugged.

  He was just her brother, but over the past few years his once comforting embrace almost elicited rueful tears. How she despised what their father condoned. He kept a steady, stalwart gaze straight ahead. Neither one allowed place for crying. Here it was taken for weakness; an inroad to desires best kept secret.

  He released her, and assured her with a nod. Then she was off.

  The estate was large enough to feature a grid. Certain sections of it were mapped and adapted for warp receptors.

  Warping was near instantaneous. In less than the time of a blink of the eye, Ielase went from the North East Annex junction and materialized in the receptor of the Crawler bay.

  Cou was a Crawler: a t
ripod machine with a smooth, mirror-y chassis. It stood at least three stories tall, and whistled when it recognized Ielase through its bright pink 'eye'. At once it opened the hatch on the bottom of its belly and let down a cone of soft blue light, inviting her in.

  She stepped into its radiance, and gradually she floated up from the floor into the machine.

  'Good day, Ielase. [I] Am excited to see you. What is [our] destination?'

  "South Chanton. Take the long route though Bextun and Trenthoni."

  'Yes. [I] Will do as ordered. Is everything alright? You sound upset.'

  "It's nothing I want on record, Cou. But thank you."

  'It is [my] pleasure to be of service, Ielase.' The machine closed and sealed its hatch. It started forward with a steady, controlled and precise amble.

  Ielase sighed, settled in one of the seats and looked at one of the flat panel displays designed to emulate a window, complete with a small vent to incorporate a breeze.

  Where on Dyjian was she going to find someone? More than that, the right someone? She hadn't the faintest idea.

  Schiivas, the 19th day in the month of Bylgas;

  Concerning a Kyusoa in Trenthoni,

  A small town on the northern continent, Phiiva.

  From a first glance it is impossible to tell the difference between the four types of Kyusoa. All four types have similar human-esque forms.

  Ashenzsi had an advantage, being an Orisoa, the purest and original kind of kyusoa. Because his new owners didn't know what to expect. With anticipation, they had slipped an Anku-brand collar around his neck, designed to keep him from transforming into his alternate, more bestial form. Since the collar wouldn't expand with him if he shifted, it would effectively choke him to death. Without a human's touch, it was impossible to remove, but Ashenzsi wasn't worried about that.

  He eyed the wriggling form of a drugged-up nijuan, a little kyusoa boy, as a man in dark leather pants, a jean vest and long leather gloves carried him in. This particular nijuan had a thick, short black mane that crowned his head; a similar row of fur ran down his back to a tuft towards the end of his tail; and his eyes were grayed like an analog tele's static.

  The man set him down, and the nijuan slumped forward on the floor, half-dazed, and out of his natural wits.

  "How much do you want for him?" The master asked.

  "Two-point-eight million nihk," the trapper said.

  "You'd rob me blind," the master grumbled, thumbing through items on his tablet. He opened his account. "What's your name?"

  "Make it out to Fylus."

  The master looked at him oddly, but didn't question him. He ran his finger along the smooth, flat surface. "Done."

  "Good doin' business with ya." The trapper gave him a nod, turned, left.

  "You there!" The master snapped his fingers at Ashenzsi. "Clean this animal up and make sure it's presentable. My wife is expecting a new pet this evening."

  Of course she is. He knew better than to speak. If ever there was a thrashing in the world to be had, it was for acts that made him seem more 'human.' He lay down on his stomach, an affirmative gesture akin to bowing.

  The master started down the main hall. "Filthy beasts, cost me a fortune," he grumbled.

  Ashenzsi waited until the sound of the master's steps were no more. He paused at the little drooling nijuan, still trying to get away from his absent captors. He still had the mark on his belly, a big, bruised-looking purple welt where they had injected him with tranquilizers.

  He took a deep breath, exhaled, and reached out mentally to his brother. 'You're going to want to see this,' he said, using the internal voice only he and his brother shared.

  'What is it this time —' His brother, Rollond, went silent as the images of the bruised, drugged-up nijuan filtered from Ashenzsi and into his mind. He was staying at the Ischiana waterfall, not too far north of Trenthoni.

  Trenthoni was a sleepy town, with a population in the two-thousands, and except for the mansion in the center of it, there wasn't much to mention. It rarely got visitors. It was the kind of place where everyone knew everyone, and Rollond wanted nothing to do with it.

  But his hearts tugged in his chest to see the nijuan.

  'How soon can you get here?' Ashenzsi asked.

  'Tonight.' The trees trembled to the west. Darkness spread over the canopy, even though the hour was high-noon, and the sun appeared a crimson-rimmed white spot in the encroaching dark. 'Jaqobus are on the move. I bet it has to do with the nijuan.'

  'I wouldn't be surprised. "You take my child, I take yours" is part of our law.'

  'Yes, yes,' Rollond said.

  'What are you going to do about it?'

  'Let me stop off at the hotel. I'll be in town this evening. But there's something I want you to do.'

  'What's that?'

  'Set the place on fire and get out.'

  'Isn't that irresponsible?'

  'When's the last time I let you down?'

  'You remember that one time when I asked you for a hasiba sapling and you came back empty handed?'

  'Except for that.' He sensed Ashenzsi's hesitation. It came to him as if he experienced it himself, that moment of pause, of uncertainty. His stomach tightened and his skin rippled.

  'I'll do it at nightfall. Be here.'

  'I will.' He took one last look at the nijuan, as Ashenzsi cradled the ill boy.

  The connection between them dissolved.

  He took the nijuan down into the basement, to the servants quarters that were reserved just for him, into the simple restroom that consisted of a bucket and a basin with running water. The floor was hard, packed-down dirt, as if the master expected him to bury his wastes right there.

  Ashenzsi drew warm water and put the nijuan in the basin. He took barely a handful of soap from a half-broken plastic dispenser, lathered the nijuan up, and carefully hand washed him.

  The daze gradually lifted from the child. He stared up at Ashenzsi, big, gray eyes studying everything he did.

  "Tsche au." Ashenzsi greeted him, cupping his hands to rinse the nijuan.

  "Meschiid nai? Chiid au?" he asked in Tswaa'ii: 'Where am I? Who are you?'

  Ashenzsi touched his first finger to his lips and shushed him. Humans didn't want to know that Kyusoas could talk, that they had their own written and spoken language: Tswaa'ii. "Dyilaan, au sentuul amazsti Uunan," he said: 'Tonight a Human comes to get you.'

  The nijuan's face paled. He gawked at the news. Not another human — anything but that! His expression soured and he started to tear. He drew breath, wanting to wail, but Ashenzsi pinched his lips shut.

  "Shh!" He gave him a keen, hard glance. "Au netyiga tschmege. Ieschnaa ja Uunan amazsti au stazsi," he said: 'Don't you make a sound. The male human coming to get you is good.' He released the male child's lips.

  The nijuan swallowed and nodded. "Tsche," he said: 'yes.'

  He pat-dried the nijuan with an old towel and took him out of the basin. As he started for the stairwell he reached back and offered his hand to the little creature. The nijuan hopped up and gripped Ashenzsi's fingers, and together the two ambled up the stairs to the top floor.

  The lady of the house occupied the master bedroom. As her lord was busy in the office she took to unbraiding her golden tresses. "Oh, good," she said when she caught a glimpse of Ashenzsi in her great vanity mirror. "Put the little one in the kennel for now. I'll have to make sure he's housebroken before he's officially allowed to roam."

  A cage, three feet wide by three feet long, dominated the space beside the bed. Its black steel bars were detestable to Ashenzsi. Still, he put the nijuan in after the lady of the manor opened it. She locked him in. "Good. You are dismissed for the rest of the day." She waved Ashenzsi away.

  He touched his belly to the floor, that gesture affirming her word. Then he rose on all fours and trotted out of her presence, and returned to the basement.

  The hours leading up to the cooled, crisp air of night were tedious. He arranged a pile
of rags and retrieved a bowl from the wine store. It was his drinking bowl, and he preferred to keep it separate among the master's assorted collection of alcohols, on the top shelf of the third rack.

  He ran cold water into his bowl and took it back to the pile of rags. He sat down on the pile, crossed his legs, and placed the bowl in front of him. He took a deep breath, and let his aelyth flow, the power of his spirit, the force of his life.

  It brought the calming sensation of water flowing along his skin, as it radiated forth from his core and ran down the surface of his arms, forming green streams of fluid light. He focused on the bowl of water before him, and pictured fire swirling in it.

  Gradually the cool clear of the water tossed and rolled. But it wasn't the same as when water boils, because as the water agitated its peaks turned reddish orange, and what was wet became hot and gaseous. Until finally fire jumped up from the bowl.

  With the upward sweep of his hand the flames snaked forth from the bowl and took to the old wooden ceiling. The wood crackled, popped and groaned as the fire wove between the boards, and Ashenzsi started up the stairwell.

  He inhaled deeply and thought 'fire' as his aelyth welled up in his throat. Flames burst forth when he exhaled, overwhelming the front entrance and foyer of the mansion. His stomach churned. He hated what he did, because the lord and lady weren't cruel and overbearing.

  The lord's face was red with fury when Ashenzsi arrived on the fifth floor.

  "What is going on here!?" he demanded.

  Ashenzsi bared his teeth and snarled. His aelyth covered him like a blanket and flames of a deep green hue wafted up from his skin. "Get out."

  "Y-you…" The lord stepped back. "Why are you doing this!? Stop!"

  "Take your female and get out. I'll not tell you a third time."

  With the two of them gone, he went back. He stopped beside the front entrance, and splayed his ears. The shriek of sirens pierced through the night air. He knew trouble lurked outside. But to stay in the mansion was unfeasible.

  He darted out onto the front lawn, expecting to see his brother. But as the mansion smoldered, Rollond was nowhere to be found. 'Where are you?' Ashenzsi asked, reaching out to Rollond.

  'Don't worry about me,' Rollond panted. 'Just get off the scene. Meet me at Ischiana.'

  'Right.' An unsettling queasiness enveloped Ashenzsi as he set foot on the crisp grass. The cold night's air didn't abate the heat of the consuming fire. More than that, the warmth stretched out and caressed him where he stood, and with bright jade green eyes, he cast an uncertain glance at the mansion.

  Then he sped off.

  Proposal.

  Schiivas, the 19th day in the month of Bylgas;

  What transpired that evening;

  Spring of the 691st year of the Second Epoch of Dyjian.