The Nameless Slave

by Vitaly Zykov

  There was a complex geometric figure charted in short and precise lines on the rocky ground. To the right of its center was left some space for entrance – the corridor crossed by no line, the boundaries of the corridor were strictly marked with unimaginable hieroglyphs. These hieroglyphs and the signs adorning all the corners, the intersection points and the arcs across of the entire figure were mesmerizing. All this construction was breathing such incredible ancient power that it caused pain in his eyes. Above the spots most intensely covered with signs, the air was trembling.

  All the space around the figure was covered with bones. In some places on the intersections of the lines next to the signs were placed skulls. Some of them were still showing remains of flesh. A sharp gust of wind brought the heavy smell of blood and Yaroslav felt sick again.

  Having recovered his breath a little, he noticed the wine-dark color of the lines enclosing the center of the figure. This color was strongly resembling the color of spots on the bus seats. It looked like blood. Behind these lines there were no bones, the space inside the figure was perfectly clean.

  Suddenly, something like an octopus tentacle stretched through the corridor to the center of the figure. Blood red, it seemed to be looking for something on the ground, carefully avoiding signs and not crossing any lines. Then the tentacle met the red enclosing line, stretched into a string, there was a squish, and it was sucked into the center of this complex geometric construction, and dissolved there entirely. The blood picture began to move. It was becoming more complicated with every second as if some buds were swelling at the ends of the lines closest to the borders of the corridor. They looked like poisonous snakes ready to attack. Yaroslav's hands started to shake noticeably. A muffled squeak escaped his throat constricted with spasm, his tongue dried-on to his larynx. Like a rabbit, he looked in the direction from which the tentacle had appeared.

  There were three girls and two guys on the ground. The girls were shaking with shiver and they were the source of screams that Yaroslav had heard previously. The guys made no sound. But it was not a manifestation of desperate courage. Something unnatural was in their silent stillness. All eyes were fixed in one direction. There was a living nightmare.

  Their eyes were enthralled by the sight of a terrible creature. It was of dark-purple color with some somber tinge. Small scales covered the whole creature from nose to tail. It had four legs, two wings and a long neck, which ended with a frightening head. On its nose and behind its ears there were horns of muddy-white color. The spiked crest stretched from its head to tail. Its each leg was adorned with six very long and eerie claws. Yaroslav immediately remembered that just before he lost consciousness, the same black claws struck the roof of the bus. But were they black? Some bluish sparks ran along the claws and right now they began to change their color to the color of the horns. The contrast between the blood maroon body and the muddy-white instruments of destruction pressured upon human psyche significantly.

  Yaroslav's consciousness pointed out all those facts against his will. He could not act consciously at all. All his thoughts were about one thing – why on earth did he wake up? He was lying so comfortably, and now this!

  Having examined the monster around from its head to tail, Yaroslav drew attention to what it was doing. The monster was enthusiastically tearing a bloody rag lying at its feet with its claws. Now, having finished its work, the monster bowed his head he had been holding high before, grabbed a pile of scraps with its teeth and tossed them with a short throw across the corridor at the center of the figure. In a few yards before the target the pile dissolved in the air. There was an explosion. Then a red cloud appeared, for a moment it froze motionless and fell on the ground like a bloody rain. The hiss of the dry ground absorbing this liquid was muted by a knock – a thing fell on the ground. This thing reached the center of the figure and stopped. At that moment Yaroslav saw that it was a human skull. Its empty eye sockets were fixed on him. Something flashed there. This was the last straw for Yaroslav, who could not even disembowel a living fish because of pity. His stomach jumped sharply up to his throat, vomiting spasms rocked his entire body. Not having fully recovered from the shock yet, he could not stay in his position and throw himself out of the bus door. The fall was unsuccessful again – his back hit the ground. Yaroslav opened his mouth in a convulsive attempt to breath. His hands were randomly groping in the dust. The pain from the blow passed almost instantly, but then his left hand lay on a stone chip which pricked him with its sharp edges. His fingers reflexively clenched into fist. The next moment Yaroslav skipped his breath again – the dreadful creature was hanging over him like a dark cloud.

  – A-a-a-a-ar-r-r-gh! – Was the only sound that his throat could produce. The sight of the monster pinned Yaroslav to the ground stronger than any irons. All his limbs were twisted by a cramp. The vile creature looked at him for pretty long. Yaroslav felt as if his brain was being groped by rough paws of the monster. His skull was as if being burst from within by some powerful force. Waves of pain swept through his whole body. The pain was intensifying with every heartbeat. And now it was not waves but the ocean of pain, and it was impossible to swim out of that ocean, he was doomed to drown in it. But Yaroslav struggled. He strained all his feeble forces to keep himself from going mad because of the pain and horror. He did not know where and who he was. The only thing overlapping the pain was the peal of laughter rolling in the corners of Yaroslav's brain. The monster was happy, he was just so damn happy.

  The pain suddenly vanished. One second ago he felt it and now it was gone. Yaroslav groaned hoarsely. His left hand was still clutching the stone. He clung to it as to the last anchor, preventing the ship of his consciousness from falling down into the boiling sea of madness.

  The creature did not waste time in vain. It relieved Yaroslav off his clothing with nimble and sharp movements. Yaroslav did not resist. Very often the claws pierced his skin, and he cried out hoarsely from these sharp bursts of pain. When all the clothes were torn off, his whole body was covered with bleeding wounds. Having examined the victim lying in front of it, the monster purred contentedly. After that the monster grabbed Yaroslav with its left front paw, and waddled slowly toward the center of the figure. Yaroslav was hanging like a lifeless rag. The monster gently passed along the corridor contoured by the lines so that the man's body did not to cross any line or sign and dropped the man on the ground to the right of the skull in the center. The creature disposed Yaroslav's body as required with short strokes of its front paws and carefully walked backwards beyond the lines. Some invisible burden pressed the human body to the ground preventing him from moving.

  A few minutes later shouts full of pain came from the bus. Yaroslav knew from his own experience what was happening there at this moment. After a while he heard heavy footsteps and squinting his eyes saw the monster which was gently carrying the next victim, in its right paw this time. Yaroslav recognized the guy whom he disliked on the bus. He was put on the left side from the skull at an arm length from Yaroslav. It appeared that their bodies were lying parallel to each other. The procedure of exiting outside the figure repeated and the monster headed to the bus again. It seemed that the sun was hanging just above the bus. The sun had greenish color for some reason. The monster came to the bus, stood on its hind legs and leaning on the bus side stuck its head inside where used to be the roof. When the creature appeared again it turned out that it contrived somehow to pick up two bodies which were lying on the back seat of the bus. Lazily waddling the monster was moving toward the figure.

  The monster passed the lines delineating the figure and carefully placed the corpses putting one body directly on Yaroslav and the second on the other guy. The heads of the dead bodies were lying face up on the stomachs of the living men. Now the head of the corpse was resting somewhere on the Yaroslav's solar plexus.

  It seemed that all preparations were finished. The monster stood up and froze. At that moment Yaroslav understood that they would be sacrificed in so
me macabre ritual. He unsuccessfully tried to move. But he even could not utter a sound. Only his eyes were madly spinning in their sockets and his veins were ready to burst from overstrain.

  Finally the monster moved – he picked up his tail and sat on his hind legs. The monster became higher but it completely fit in the center of the figure free of the lines. Suddenly, with sharp movements, it drew some characters directly on the flesh of the dead men. Then the monster froze again. Minutes lasted like hours because of waiting. Suddenly the body lying on Yaroslav began to tremble. Mad from fear he looked on the bloody burden placed on him and saw spherical clumps of flesh were as if tearing from the dead man body and like soap bubbles collecting in a cloud over the skull in the center. The same thing happened to the right from Yaroslav. The corpses were slowly melting and finally remained only their skulls. The thick cloud began to simmer. Abruptly it threw four tentacles, two of them were stretched to the skulls of the dead people, one to the center of the figure and one passed over the monster towards the corridor. The tentacles vanished with slurping sound. Yaroslav saw three of them were drawn into the skulls which caused some crimson glow in the eye pits. The fourth one closed the corridor and locked out the figure, at least Yaroslav felt it that way. The cloud immediately vaporized.

  The terrible power began to accumulate in the air. Even the horror experienced by the sight of the monster faded in comparison to it. Suddenly the skulls started to pulse in unison as if adjusting to each other. Some sort of string was twanging in Yaroslav's head. Its pitch became higher and higher until Yaroslav was aware of nothing except that ringing. Surrounding reality seemed to be shifted to the background. His eyesight weakened as well as all the other senses. Then an invisible push or rather a kick threw Yaroslav out of his body.

  He flew up, flew in the literal sense of the word. He was hovering above and was able to look around. Yaroslav was at the height about one yard above his body and could see it in all details. He saw the second guy who also was looking agape at himself lying on the ground. His present body differed almost nothing from the one lying on the ground, there was only some touch of unreality. The new bodies looked like ghosts in the wind. They seemed real but despite that Yaroslav felt that wind could disperse him like smoke at any moment. Yaroslav winced. To escape this oppressive feeling he looked down more intently.

  The bodies on the ground formed a mysterious figure or a symbol. Two parallel lines of the bodies and the pulsing point of the skull in the center. Between the parallel lines at a little distance sat the monster. Its hulk represented the third line. A conjecture literally burst into Yaroslav's mind. It was a symbol. No, not a symbol, it was a SYMBOL. The Symbol of Strength and Power, of Power and Dominion. The Symbol of Ancients. However, who the Ancients were and why it was so – with a capital letter, Yaroslav did not know. His fear suddenly disappeared. It was replaced by anger. He wanted to smash and break something. Turning to the monster Yaroslav suddenly met its eyes, and all his furious rush faded like a flame of a candle. The monster was sitting with its head up and looking straight at the people. It was totally focused and ready for everything.

  – He sees us, – said Yaroslav, surprised that he could speak again.

  The other man said nothing. The monster answered to him.

  – Yes, you worm! – The words boomed in Yaroslav's mind. – Now you're going to die in order to increase my Force! The ritual will be completed soon and the forces of the Dead rocks, the Ancients' Symbol and offworlders' blood will merge into a single stream, which will flow into my veins! Be proud, mortals! This ritual will make me Roshag-haarg-Logg[11] as strong as the strongest of Haarg Zoam race.

  Having said that, he began to sing. The song flowed, enveloped, enmeshed Yaroslav and his fellow-in-suffer with invisible snare. It burst like poisonous tentacles into the deepest depths of his soul. Yaroslav realized that this creature, this Roshag, was changing him. This brazen impudence, humiliation and hatred stirred up all fillings in Yaroslav again. He began to struggle. Straining every particle of his soul, he resisted the invasion. Because of the horrible stress it seemed to him that he could hear crackling of the barriers of will he had made on the way of the invisible tentacles. The whole world disappeared, there were only the will of the man and the magical song of the monster…

  It seemed to last for eternity. But then came the final chords of the song. It made the skulls on the motionless bodies explode with bloody dust, and then like a hammer blow drove the people's souls into their bodies.

  At once all his feelings came back and Yaroslav understood that he could move. Turning his head, he saw the fellow lying motionless and staring into the sky with dead eyes. The creature, or Roshag as he called himself, stood like a marble statue, only its swollen muscles were twitching. The folded wings on his back were literally glowing with lifeless light from within. Suddenly, gray dust and small stones lying around the bodies, rushed up, where a sharp gust of wind scattered them. The body of the rock became clear. It was subtly vibrating now.

  Suddenly, Yaroslav felt as if pierced by an electric shock. He groaned. Something, some force was separating from the rock and piercing into his body. His neighbor was twisting too. That force was using them as conductors. Yaroslav felt that the flow of the forces did not stay inside him, but transformed and rushed to the unbroken skull in center of the figure. It was glistening contentedly. Yaroslav closed his eyes because of severe pain and saw with inner vision interweaving of multicolor pulsating lines which stretched from him and another guy to the skull and then to Roshag. And character of the lines stretching from the skull was different. Something unkind and hostile was emanating from those lines. Roshag was filling with Force. Yaroslav perceived him as a conglomeration of wild, unbridled energy that was pulsating in the vicious beat of the skull.

  The flow of the energy transformed into roaring hurricane. It seemed that it had been lasting for ages when high in the air a shimmering tornado began to form, similar to the one which infinitely long ago threw out the vile creatures on the helpless city. Lightnings entwined the edges of the tornado like golden snakes, but the form and size of the crater were constantly changing. Metamorphosis were proceeding in a continuous stream. Finally this natural phenomenon took the form of crown, in which the crater was the band and the twisting tongues of lightnings constantly generated by the tornado were the teeth. Dimensions of the crown were amazing and horrifying. It was hanging directly over the place of the rite, threatening to bury everything under an avalanche of energy.

  The trunk of the tornado boiling with primitive fury of raging elements began to descend from the center of the crown. It came closer to the figure on the ground, and Yaroslav, despite the terrible pain interfering thinking, realized that it would kill them all. It was the answer of powerful forces to the attempt to take away some part of their power. He waited for death eagerly, hoping that it would save him from that inhuman torture. The monster paid no attention to the impending danger, on the contrary he was moaning as if with pleasure.

  At this point the symbols, written on the ground, came to life, they glowed with crimson light and at the last moment before the impact made a protective sphere over the figure. But that defense did not delay the raging elements for long. The defense burst with terrible crash and the trunk of the tornado froze for a moment. That moment was enough to activate the signs on the latest figure drawn with blood, which enclosed the interior of the scheme, where people and Roshag lay. That defense also failed, but exploded with waterfall of dull red sparks, it also dispelled the monstrous tornado. A chain reaction started. After the trunk the awful ties holding the Force and forming the vortex began to collapse too. There was a thunderous sound of impact, a greenish light from the skull hit into the center of the vortex, and a strong gust of wind cleared the sky.

  Roshag opened its eyes and roared triumphantly. With some sixth sense, Yaroslav understood – the time came for him to die. Yaroslav felt so bitter because of this bleak despair, this harsh inevit
ability of a punishing blow, that overcoming his pain and desiring to hurt his enemy even a little, he hit the skull with the stone which he was still squeezing in his left hand.

  In fact all his energy was spent to turn to the right side and the strike turned out to be very weak. Perhaps such a blow would not kill a fly, but it was enough. The skull was surprisingly fragile. It seemed like woven from air and from such a weak attack, almost a touch, it just crumbled. Crumbled into dust.

  For an instant everything around was still. The ritual was interrupted. Roshag looked with disbelieve, his stare transfixed at the handful of dust. All sounds were gone. The energy flow from the rock stopped. The pain that had been enveloping Yaroslav like a lead veil abruptly disappeared. It seemed that his heartbeats would tear his eardrums. But it only lasted for a moment… It is known that seafarers of yore often took barrels of oil in voyages, if a ship happened to fall into a storm, they poured the oil overboard. Oil film humbled the raging water for a moment, but that moment gave a needed timeout for the ship. Their chance of survival significantly rose. But God forbid them to stay for long in this spot of calm in the heart of the storm. A detained ship was doomed to death. Something similar was happening around Yaroslav. This was a lull before a storm.

  Then came a sound of thunder. Vibration of the rock, weak during the rite, began to increase. A howl able to raise even the dead, broke the silence. After the howl a stream of energy struck from the rock. The people being the unwilling conductors of energy began to writhe on the ground. Their limbs seemed ready to turn out their joints. Their tendons were crackling. Their skin became as weightless and transparent as an ancient parchment. Their clenched jaws crumbled their teeth into sand. A dreadful, inhuman cry shook everything around.