by J. Thorn
“If I get it first,” she replied.
Ri giggled and tossed her hair back, turning and bending over in front of the dark figure. A sigh of pleasure left his mouth as he entered her darkest places.
***
Gishwan gazed at the crescent moon. A leather strap secured her hair in a ponytail. The pillows remained on the cot and a comforting breeze crept in through the windows. In the mystical place between awareness and sleep, Gishwan could not conjure the faces of the men who had used her. Every night she saw their sweaty, red faces spitting in hers. Yet tonight, they vanished. Gishwan slept like the dead.
Ri’s eyes glowed red, allowing her to see Gishwan without waking the woman. She hoped that Gishwan would join the Order. The Sorceress of the Wind floated across the floor and placed her hand on Gishwan’s rising breasts, stroking each one, enjoying the softness of her skin.
***
The Sun God began his journey as he had from time immemorial, and Gishwan opened her eyes. The pains in her head disappeared and she saw everything with crystal-clear vision. She understood the figures on the jars and urns, the same ones that had puzzled her the day before. She noticed that her breasts had lifted. Glancing over her naked body, she found that the night had erased the blemishes she had since birth. Her appetite for food had dissipated along with her birthmarks, but her appetite for sex raged. Gishwan burned for Ri’s touch between her legs. She moved a hand across her pubic mound and down to her opening flower. As soon as she touched herself, stars exploded in her eyes.
As Gishwan washed up after her morning exercise, Ri appeared in the doorway. She wore the same robes she had during Gishwan’s rescue.
“We must go,” she said.
“Go where? What is happening?”
“I sense another. A possible convert to the Order, but we must leave soon.”
Gishwan pouted. She dropped down to the cot and spread her legs at Ri. “But I am naked,” she said.
“On the table you will find suitable garments. Get them on, now.”
Gishwan frowned and dressed with exaggerated motions. Ri turned to exit the house and caught a glimmer of red in Gishwan’s eyes.
Chapter 13
Leather straps held the banner to the carved pole. Smudges of sweat and blood had infiltrated the natural wood grain, protecting it for eons. A blazing orb sat atop a deep red backdrop. The rays of the Sun God stretched to the four corners of the One World, and the flag of the People of the Sun stared across the outcrop and beyond the reaches of the province. The villagers passed beneath it without a thought, the same as they had for generations before.
From the turret of the village wall, sentries gazed upon the tiny dots puncturing the horizon. Traders from distant lands pulled their caravans through the Great Waste towards the capital, and inside the main gate, merchants displayed minerals and precious stones mined from the desert. Farmers from distant villages delivered what was left of their harvest after the Great Waste took its share, their camels whining and spitting in protest under the weight of the valuable gems. On rare occasions, a scribe accompanied one of the caravans, bringing news from the Empire or proclamations of war.
The Sun God smiled on the village as he had done many times before. Men hunted on the fringes of the forest while women tended to the children, and the elders gathered in an okinsa hut in an attempt to relive the glories of their youth.
“Come here and grab this pail of water,” said Shinta.
“Mother, must I?” asked the young girl.
“Yes, I need help,” Shinta replied, glaring.
“Why? Why do I have to do your bidding?” the daughter asked.
They carried the pails of water from the local well back towards their dwelling, Shinta watching her daughter struggle under the weight of the pails and ignoring her muffled rumblings. She nodded towards the well and supplicated herself before it.
“When will father return?” the girl asked.
“The boys prepare for the Ceremony of the Twelfth. It could be two or three more moons before they return. Can’t we enjoy each other’s company?”
“Yes mother, of course. I was wondering when I might see—”
“Might see the boy you fancy?” Shinta interrupted. “I know how the mind of a maiden works. Remember, I was young once, too.”
Shinta and her daughter laughed together as a distant rumble in the sky announced the arrival of a devastating storm.
***
“From what I can tell, this village flies the flag of the People of the Sun,” said the commander.
“Numbers?” asked Acatel.
“Mostly women and their offspring. It would not be unusual for the men to be hunting the forest.”
Acatel yanked the spyglass from his commander. He peered through the murky lens into the lives of the innocent villagers.
“Peons, worthless wretches. The woman parade around in nothing but rags. People of the Sun in name only. Nonetheless, we honor our commitment to the mission. Blood of the Empire must flow.”
The commander did not blink. He studied the women of the village and turned his head towards Acatel. “As you command, sir,” he said, forcing the words from his mouth.
“Tell the men to conceal themselves until the Sun God has completed his journey. Other scouts reported isolated hunting parties on the edge of the forest. They camp a day’s ride from here and would not risk the return trip in the dark. They left the village unprotected. When darkness returns, they will feel the wrath of the Dog People.”
Sweat dripped from Acatel’s face as the spyglass fell from his trembling hands.
***
“Start the fire,” Shinta said to her daughter. The Sun God had turned his back on the One World and descended beyond the Region of the Dead, but the villagers showed no fear.
The two women finished cleaning the scraps from a meager dinner. When the Sun God returned, they would fetch more water and prepare the food. Now, they owned the night skies and the Star Kings, the immortal messengers of the gods.
“Mother, how did you know that father was to be yours?”
“It is not a matter of knowing. The Book of Horoscopes is interpreted and that must be followed. I know you have your eye on a particular boy, but you must respect the Book.”
The young girl’s face blazed with embarrassment.
A sprig of dried wood snapped in the blackened night, and Shinta and her daughter froze. The insects fell silent, leaving only the lonely crackle of a dying fire. The remains of smoked meat filled the air, masking the scent of the villagers’ fear. Shinta reached for her charm, closed her eyes, and pleaded for help from the Star Kings.
***
“You fool,” said Acatel. “If you tip them off, I will wear your skin on my shield.”
The flushed warrior who had stepped on the branch looked at his feet and tightened his grip on his shield.
“Sir, the men surrounded the village. No creature can get in or out without our knowledge,” said the commander.
“The time is now.”
Acatel marched from the darkness towards the closest fire. Shinta gawked at the man who had materialized out of the night, and she knew he did not belong to her village.
“Greetings, kind host,” he said.
Shinta grabbed her daughter and huddled with her on the opposite side of the fire. “It is not customary to enter a village without the blessing of the Sun God. All People of the Sun know this,” Shinta said to Acatel.
“I guess that is true,” he replied.
Acatel snickered, enjoying the verbal joust. Shinta realized the danger, and her grip on her daughter tightened while she continued to keep distance between themselves and the foreigner.
“I travel with my band of traders, and we have become lost. We were hoping you could put us on the road to the capital of the Empire.”
“I don’t see your traders or your caravan.”
Acatel reached across the fire. With one motion, his burly arm locked around the girl�
�s neck. “How many suns have you seen, young one?” he asked her.
Shinta stood up. She moved the dagger from the sheath on her thigh into her right hand. “Drop my child or I will put this blade between your ribs.” Shaking hands lessened the seriousness of the threat.
“I’m sure you will,” Acatel said, suppressing a laugh. “My men surround your village. With one motion of my finger, your entire world will catch fire. Hide your dagger and sit down, now.”
Shinta shuddered from the cold glare of Acatel’s eyes. She sat down without releasing his gaze.
“Put that dagger away before it cuts flesh. I am going to tell you what I want, and you will give it to me. If you do this, many of your villagers will escape the Region of the Dead. If you do not, the Book of History will show the Fifth Sun as the last for this village. Do you understand?”
Shinta shook her head. She brushed renegade wisps of hair from her face, keeping them from her burgeoning tears. She glanced past Acatel and saw figures moving through the village. Her daughter squirmed under his bicep, but remained silent.
“We are the Dog People. We no longer accept the brutal treatment, subjugation, and tribute imposed upon us by the People of the Sun. This will not be a Flowery War. This will be a war of annihilation.”
“We are an insignificant village forgotten by the capital of the Empire,” Shinta said. “The flag flies as a matter of protocol. We do no harm. We exact no tribute, and we subjugate no one.”
Acatel bristled. “You worthless bitch! You speak to me as if I were a fool. You will learn soon enough how the Dog People deal with such insubordination. Generations of your people dominated mine. You claim to be isolated from the Empire, which may be true as the crow flies. However, you reap the benefits of protection and trade with the People of the Sun. Do not sit there and claim innocence while the blood of my people fortifies your coffers.”
Acatel gave the sign. His warriors floated up from the blackness, surrounding each campfire and securing the village without incident. Soldiers dragged the elderly from their sleep and children cried, tugging on the cotton wraps of their mothers. Acatel could see the helmet of his commander and motioned to him.
“Yes, my lord,” he replied.
“Shackle these two and take them to my tent. I need information, and they will supply it.”
“I would rather lose my tongue than help you,” said Shinta, spitting into his face.
With the back of his left hand, Acatel wiped the saliva from his cheek. “Not until it talks and licks my manhood. After that, I will be happy to detach it for you.”
Chapter 14
The Serpent King’s vessel continued its voyage across the Great Sea. Islands appeared, producing natives to replace the sailors departed from the original crew, those who had died during the voyage or danced to their death with Shane of Gisanti. It took time for the natives to learn the dialects of the Eastern Kingdoms, but they were much easier to subdue than the vermin from Concothy. Shane and the Serpent King shared meals as well as stories. When they captured women from an island, they shared them as well.
“What is our directive?” asked Shane. He knew the Serpent King well enough to know that he would not honor King Jofina’s contract.
“I do not care for spoils. Fools chase gold, a useless metal. For eons, shame surrounded my family. You cannot buy yourself out of it. Men will write volumes about this voyage. Women will weep when they read about the devastation wrought by the Serpent King. Children will tremble from the memories. This is the rise of the Serpent King and the universe will bow before me.”
Shane sat on the deck, listening while he tossed pieces of trash into the cascading waves. Sea birds made their home in the ship’s rigging and dropped white gifts of waste on the deck. Shane brushed a new gift from his shoulder and wiped his hand on the coarse, warped floorboards. He held the soiled hand to his nose, and the smell chased away the threat of sleep, pulling him back into the conversation.
“Jofina—” he started to say.
“Jofina is an ass. If I ever return to the Eastern Kingdoms, I will release his head from his body with my sword,” said the Serpent King.
“You will hang for treason. You cannot hide from the ruler of the Eastern Kingdoms, especially after breaking his contract.”
“Fuck Jofina and his contract. He sent me across the Great Sea hoping that I would never return. The old fool will get his wish.”
“Tell me what happened after your hanging.”
The Serpent King stared into his eyes. “Is your mind open?” he asked.
“My lord, what else must I do to prove my eternal loyalty?”
The Serpent King sat down next to Shane. He tilted his head back towards the heavens and closed his eyes, inhaling before he continued his tale.
“When I opened my eyes, I remained in darkness. Fear gripped my soul, and I started to cry from inside a coffin. A voice spoke to me.
“It said, ‘Rise. You must survive the gauntlet if you wish to breathe again.’
“A pinhole of light appeared above my face and grew, dispersing the darkness that enveloped me. I found myself seated on a marble chair. A deep freeze covered the stone in the temple. Pillars extended far into the darkness and I sat between them, facing an altar. On the raised platform sat a still figure on a throne, and two iron torches stood guard, flickering in the shadows. Seven steps connected the floor to the altar. Behind the throne and hanging on the wall was a tapestry like no other I had ever seen. Gold, red, and black thread danced through the piece, illustrating a battle scene. Red beasts with horns stood over mortal men, skewering their eyes on spears. Other beasts feasted on the brains of their vanquished foes, and crows hovered over the entrails on the ground. The full moon hovered as I stared at the living tapestry. The red monsters continued the slaughter, and I heard the death cries of men being ripped to pieces. The crows cawed, taunting the death march, and I had to look away.
“‘It is art, right?’ said the voice on the throne.
“I concentrated on the figure and made every attempt not to glance at the hideous scene unfolding on the tapestry. From the timbre of the voice, I assumed the figure was male, but could not be certain, as a black hood covered its head. From the neck down the figure dressed for battle. An iron breastplate, decorated with the blood of the dead, hung from its neck, and a sheath attached to its left hip held a sword with a ruby-encrusted hilt. I noticed a black dog lying at its feet. The dog raised its head to sniff the air, whined, and lay back down again, never taking his eyes off of me. That dog wanted nothing more than to eat my flesh; this I could see through its glowing red eyes.
“‘Where am I?’ I asked.
“‘You are as beautiful in death as you were in life,’ the figure replied. ‘Unfortunately, this will not serve you in the gauntlet.’
“Humming began in my feet and made its way up my legs. It continued into my most private area, into my breasts, and to my head.
“‘Allow the vibration to do its work,’ he said.
“I watched as my flesh transformed. My calves and thighs bulged with muscle. Where my womanly passions resided, a male member and its companions grew. My hips shrunk, as did my ample breasts. When I spoke, it was now through the flesh of a man.
“‘What are you doing to me? Why are you stealing my womanhood?’ I asked.
“The figure laughed. ‘How can one steal property that is already in his possession? I am preparing you,’ it replied.
“The transformation did not stop at my flesh. When the vibration reached my head, another one began at my feet. This time it spun the fabrics and weapons you see on me today.
“‘Come to me,’ the voice said.
“I stood up and walked towards the altar. My body moved in awkward bursts, as if it did not trust its new form.
“‘You have been chosen.’
“Once again, I became transfixed by the living tapestry hanging above the figure. Grotesque scenes unfolded, titillating me.
�
�‘If you survive the gauntlet, I will place you back amongst the living. You will have powers beyond reckoning. If you do not complete the run, your soul will join the other failures in the tapestry behind me.’
“Constant, eternal damnation held its prisoners better than bars and shackles.
“‘What is the gauntlet you speak of?’ I asked.
“‘Patience. You will not be so anxious to run it once it begins. Eating death will bring you life. Trust the one that proves himself through insolence. The dragons will not harm you. Ally with the enemy of the enemy, as this will bring you victory. Spare no man the sword and no woman your sword of flesh. The old one will prophesize your coming, and the omens will foretell it. This is the way of the Spirit and a law that cannot be broken.’
“‘What are you saying? I don’t understand,’ I said.
“‘Stop asking questions and listen. Remember these words, as you will need them if you survive the test.’
“The figure on the altar melted. His robe, chainmail, breastplate, and weapons dripped onto the floor, where the dog lapped it up and howled. The tapestry on the wall ignited, blue flame devouring the scene, and the screams of the men reached a crescendo before falling silent. The pillars crumbled, the cracking stone choking me as dust filled my lungs. I stood in place and did not move, and fires ignited all around me, but I felt no heat. My marble chair darkened and became brown, pieces of it thinning out and growing, climbing upward past my face and over my head. A holding cell made of wood imprisoned me and my leg muscles contracted, dropping me to a dirt floor. The shouts of men grew louder. A military camp materialized from the flame, engulfed by the jungle, the full moon illuminating the scene. A sentry appeared to my right, outside my cell. He turned to look at me and smiled, and his rotten breath knocked me back two steps.
“‘Quit your whining. As soon as we execute your worthless comrade, you will eat,’ he said.