by J. H. Hayes
"Shhhh!" Izyl whispered. "I have to talk to you. But keep your voice down, girl."
"What? Izyl, what is it?" she whispered back.
"Yumineh, come. Listen carefully." She took her in her arms and placed her lips to her ear. "You have to leave, Yumineh. This morning."
"What? What are you talking about?" Yumineh said.
She expected Yumineh to be resistant at first. Early on, the girl had learned to be obstinate, a defense mechanism that helped her cope with her harsh childhood. Izyl knew she'd have to break through it. While still keeping her voice low, she looked directly into Yumineh's eyes and whispered with all the earnest intensity she could muster. "You need to listen to me and do as I say. I need you to trust me, Yumineh. You must leave... now!"
"Leave? What do you mean? Leave where?" Yumineh asked. Although Izyl had her attention, she was confused.
"To Fox Camp, for now," Izyl began to say, before pausing to sigh. She could see that wall of stubbornness building. Yumineh wasn't going to listen. Panicking, she made another split decision. She had intended to send Yumineh off alone, knowing she'd only slow the girl down. But she had to convey how serious the situation was. "I'll go with you, Yumineh. But we have to do this secretly. You must leave all your things here. Just take-"
"Izyl! No! What are you talking about? I'm not going anywhere." Yumineh pushed away, raising her voice slightly. As frightened as she was by Izyl's bizarre behavior, she didn't see any cause to leave. And she had every reason to stay.
"Yumineh! You have to. You can't stay here. Just listen to me!" Izyl wanted to scream some sense into her stubborn heart, but she couldn't allow the other bathers to hear. She peered deep into her eyes instead, probing for a crack in her wall. She realized a new woman was standing before her - a different one than had left Fox Camp. It was a disturbing revelation. Yumineh had never openly defied her sober direction before.
"Why? Why must I leave? I don't want to go anywhere. Why won't you tell me what’s going on, Izyl?"
The last thing Izyl wanted to do was tell her about Ta'araki's plans, but it was more important to get her to safety. Yumineh was becoming more defiant. She had to find a way to break through. "Something is going to happen, Yumineh. We have to get out of here now. Don't worry, I'll be with you. But we have to make plans or we won't make it."
Yumineh's brow curled. What would scare Izyl enough to want to flee? And why would she be warning only her, instead of everyone? Nothing about her explanation made sense. "Izyl, what's gotten into you?" she asked. "What could we possibly be in danger of? Are the Kebar planning to attack? I won't leave. I'll stay and defend my people!"
"No, girl," Izyl answered. "Something far more deadly than the Kebar. Just trust me, Yumineh!"
"No! I'm not going anywhere with you unless you tell me what's going on." Yumineh said.
Finally Izyl relented. She sighed and again whispered in her ear. "Fahim is desperate to gain the favor of the Ta'ar," she told her. "She's desperate for Their return and she's completely lost her mind. She's planning a sacrifice." She loosened her hold on the girl just enough to look into her eyes. She had to be sure her meaning had gotten through.
"What?" Yumineh asked, completely bewildered still. "So? You Ta'araki are always making sacrifices. What's it got to do with me?"
Izyl shook her head and sighed. She gripped Yumineh's biceps and shook her. "You! Yumineh. They're going to sacrifice you."
Yumineh pulled away, fear and confusion drawn all over her face. She didn't respond, but stared wide, with shocked eyes at the Ta'araki who had done so much for her after the rest of her family was lost. Why would the Ta'araki want to sacrifice anyone, much less her? She'd heard rumors of them sacrificing a Kebar, but the whole notion seemed too ridiculous to believe. "What?" she asked.
Izyl sighed again and her voice fell quiet. "They think if they sacrifice the most precious thing we have, the Ta'ar will reward us. They chose you, because of your triumphs during the last hunt. They’re convinced only a great hunter would appease the Ta'ar."
Yumineh again stared at her in stunned silence.
"We have to leave here, Yumineh," Izyl continued. "There’s no other option."
"But why me?” she asked. “Why don't they sacrifice one of the other hunters? I've only just become a hunter. There are others more skilled than me." Although she'd earlier convinced herself she was their greatest hunter, she now realized it had only been self-glorification. She barely remembered killing those four aurochs. It was just a blurred memory. She would have thought it a dream, had the others not been fawning over her.
"Because they also want a virgin daughter," Izyl explained.
Yumineh's eyes opened wide. "No!" she cried, at last comprehending the severity of her plight.
Izyl put her arms around her again, more tenderly. She hadn't wanted to reveal so much, intending instead in keeping the foul terrors of the Ta'araki from her. But she knew why the stubborn girl had reacted in the manner she did. With her new found popularity, Yumineh was finally happy. Izyl had never seen her happier.
"Don't worry, girl. I'll die before they lay a hand on you," Izyl said.
Yumineh sobbed and wiped the tears from her eyes. "No, it's not that. It's... They can't sacrifice me."
"I know," Izyl responded. "We'll leave here now, they won't find us until the Equinox has passed."
"No, you don't understand, Izyl," Yumineh wailed. "They can't sacrifice me because I'm... I'm no longer un-touched!"
---
Moments later, Izyl sat on her knees in front of the elder Ta'araki with fabricated humility. She despised Fahim, but took care to keep all hints of hatred well hidden.
"And she freely admitted this to you?" Fahim asked. Expressions of doubt sprinkled across her face. She wondered how just such an admission had occurred. And at such a convenient moment. Izyl betrayed the Ta'araki. There was no question. But if her claim was true, it would hardly matter.
"Yes, Ta'araki."
"And you confirmed her story?"
"Yes, Ta'araki. I checked her myself. Her claim is inarguable."
"Very well," Fahim said. "Then we must resort to our previous subject. This must be kept from Azerban. I will make the plans."
"Of course, Ta'araki."
"You’re dismissed."
Fahim watched the younger Ta'araki rise and walk toward the exit. This turn of events was explicit verification. She was sure now the Ta’ar were guiding them. Azerban was missing and yet his daughter was accounted for. Azaria had been called. And she would deliver her to Them just as They demanded.
And then They would return.
As her thoughts turned to Azerban’s daughter, suspicion filled her twisted mind. In her zeal, she realized she'd been too trusting. She needed confirmation. It was too important. "Izyl?" she called.
Izyl turned to face her. "Yes, Ta'araki?"
"If I find you’ve defiled that young girl in order to thwart the Ta'ar's will, it’ll be you upon the altar."
"Of course, Ta'araki. Her wounds are not fresh. If you wish to-"
"I do. Bring her to me."
9
With wet, red eyes, Izyl watched Fahim standing above the young woman, staring down at her exposed body lying spread out on top of the altar. Warm, gentle wind rustled the dark locks of the girl's hair. Izyl watched Fahim cast her gaze upward and followed her eyes. Ugly carrion birds circled far above with their massive wings spread wide. She'd always thought them beautiful, the Ta'ar's sacred instruments in freeing the spirit from the flesh. But now she felt only revulsion watching them dancing on the currents high above. Izyl's eyes were brought back down as the girl lying on the altar stirred. Her head moved from side to side. Izyl heard her emit a gentle moan. She wondered what had happened to Azerban.
"The moment has arrived!" Fahim announced. She held two fingers up to the sky to block the harsh rays of the zenithal sun. The bright, golden sphere was almost in position, almost directly overhead.
Soon, the gr
eat wickedness would be done. But there was nothing Izyl could do about it - short of physically attacking her elder. And even that would prove of only temporary success. Izyl watched Fahim turn and hold her open palm out to the elderly Ta'araki standing just behind her. Takur placed in it a sprig of rosemary from the bag attached to his waist. Fahim placed it beneath the girl's nose and rubbed the spear-shaped leaves between her bony fingers, releasing a pleasant, reviving aroma.
The girl's eyes twitched and her lids parted slightly. "Ta'araki?" she moaned. Her voice was barely audible. She was confused, dislocated.
"Don't fear, daughter. Everything will be fine," Fahim whispered. She placed one hand on the girl's chin and with the other put the edge of the ceremonial flint knife on the far side of her neck and pressed into the artery, drawing a trickle of blood. Fahim looked up again, mumbling some unintelligible words. Izyl could make out only a few but she knew what the old wench was saying. She uses the same recitation as she would for a dirty beast.
"Ta'araki? What's going on? Where is father?" the girl whispered her last words in fear.
Izyl watched as Fahim pressed her obsidian knife farther into the girl's neck and then, with one swift, practiced motion, drew the flint blade across, opening a deep gash all the way to the opposite artery. Even from the far side of the Temple platform, Izyl could see her eyes open wide in shock. She could hear the blood gurgling in her throat, as the final protest was vainly uttered.
Fahim held the girl down, staring into her eyes, watching curiously as the life drained out of them. The bright eyes faded and then slowly closed. As they shut, the pupils rolled backward into her head. It took just moments before the beating in her chest ceased.
"Blessed Ta'ar! Accept this Tribute we offer! Take this virgin daughter's spirit up and allow her to reside with You in the Heavens. We offer this Gift in great humility. Let it not go unheard. For it is the most precious of Gifts we can offer. We ask that You accept it and continue to watch over us. To guide us. We beg You return to us, Blessed Ta'ar, Masters of the Winds and Heavens. We beg You fulfill the Promises You once made to Grandfather and Grandmother. For we need now Your Wisdom. We fear Your Children will not survive without Your benevolent Counsel. We implore You to hear our..."
As she went on and on, Izyl lost interest in the old woman’s pleas. Her thoughts turned inward. It's as if Fahim thinks she can will the Ta'ar down if she just begs hard enough. Her desperation is pathetic, not worthy of the position she holds. Izyl stared at the life cut needlessly short to the despair of an old crone whose greatest desire had eluded her for too long. This cannot go on. I cannot allow this to happen again. I must find a way to stop her. Unfortunately, the one person who would be her greatest ally, who she’d recently despised, and once respected more than any other Ta'araki, was missing. She wondered again what had happened to him. She grieved for him now, and for his family. Izyl wondered what other horror Fahim had done.
---
Azerban woke in a haze, lying on his back. He squeezed his eyes shut to staunch the wave of nausea. After lying still for several moments attempting to gather himself he moved to roll over. Bolts of pain shot down his back, from his lower shoulders to his buttocks. He eased himself down again, grimacing as his skin made contact with the wet sand. Azerban knew he’d been injured, but didn’t know where he was or how long he’d been unconscious. Everything was blurred. A dull roar accompanied a throbbing inside his skull. He inhaled deeply through his nostrils, hoping to identify familiar odors and was rewarded with new shoots of pain migrating down his torso. Slowly, the scene around him sharpened. He was surrounded by water-reeds on the bank of the river. He rolled over, slowly this time and dipped his mouth into the water. His throat was severely dry.
The back of Azerban's head pounded mercilessly as he sat up, but after a moment the pain lessened enough to focus. He strained to remember how he’d been injured. What happened? I was at the meeting, in the grove. The one to determine the sacrifice. There was an argument. I left. But then what? He had visions of flying through the air. Or falling, actually. I was falling. No, I jumped. I jumped from High Cliff. I must have floated down the river then.
He stood, ignoring the torturous agony of his wounds and surveyed. He finally recognized the place, about halfway to the Great Temple. Looking up, he realized it was still early. Then he closed his eyes, struggling again to remember what had brought him there. A face appeared, scowling at him, horror in her eyes. He knew her. It was Izyl’s orphan, Yumineh. Suddenly he remembered what he'd done. I sent her to her death... The insight brought new pain. It was far more intense than the physical burn shooting down his back. How could I have done it? A voice inside his head answered. What choice did you have? She was going to sacrifice Azaria.
He remembered then why he’d jumped. The torment had been too much. He didn't deserve to live, so he let the Ta’ar decide. But it was such a stupid thing to do. Fahim could always change her mind, override the will of the Council. It would be unprecedented, but could he really put it past her?
Azaria was still in danger.
The realization numbed his pain better than the most potent herb. Only one thought filled his mind - he had to find Azaria. The sacrifice would be the next sun. If Fahim discovered he was missing, surely she’d make the most of the opportunity. He took a few halting steps through the brush, falling to his knees once, but soon met the well-worn trail.
Even with his great urgency, Azerban could only manage a few steps before falling. He stumbled often, but reached the outskirts of Boar Camp before the sun had set. As he did so, he heard voices ahead of him.
With great courage he managed a few quick paces and caught sight of a procession in front of him entering the camp. At the center was Fahim, walking slowly with her cane. In her other hand she held a leather bag.
Azerban knew what sort of thing the bag was meant to carry. The size and shape of the hidden object sent a chill down his bones. He nearly fell to his knees.
The Solstice is past. The sacrifice performed.
He broke into a jog, any thoughts of pain completely forgotten. He scanned the area, searching for his daughter.
Down the path, inside the boundaries of Boar Camp, a crowd was forming. He saw a pretty young girl standing to the side with several young men hovering around her.
Yumineh. She was still alive.
Then the bag held... it could only be Azaria.
Fahim stopped to address the gathering mass. "Everyone, open your ears. There’s been an accident," she called out. "We’ve lost one of our daughters."
What a coward she is, Azerban thought, his blood cold. She won't even admit to what really happened. But he knew she'd get away with it. None of the other Ta'araki would admit participation in such a heinous, disgraceful act. They would let the lie continue.
He watched her reach into the bag and pull the contents out. In both hands, she raised it up to the crowd, reverently, as if it was the most sacred thing she'd ever held.
As she swiveled the gruesome head for all to see, Azerban saw the long, dark hair and youthful features, contorted into a frozen, drooping expression. His stomach dropped.
It was Azaria.
"Nooooooo!!" He screamed with a ferocity that cowered the crowd.
He stumbled forward, pushing through the mob. The path between him and Fahim cleared. Fahim stared at him angrily, but traces of fear and panic were also in her eyes.
Another man approached her, but Azerban's attention was fixed. He would kill her. But he must do it before the guards stopped him. He'd kill them too, if he had to. He took another step toward her. All remnants of pain were gone, replaced by frigid rage.
He took another quick step toward her and broke into a jog. On the periphery of his vision, men were rushing toward him, their spears readied above their shoulders.
Farther into the heart of Boar Camp, a figure cast the first spear.
Azerban never saw it - until it was too late.
In front of h
im, two things happened simultaneously. The man who'd earlier approached, reached up and took the severed head from Fahim.
And at the same moment, the thrown spear plunged into Fahim's back, directly into her heart. She crumpled with a soft thud on the wide, dirt path, dead before she hit the ground, a spear impaled in her frail frame.
Shocked and confused, Azerban looked farther down to see who’d killed her.
Standing defiantly was a middle-aged woman he knew well. Dolaria had been a beautiful young thing who’d once fancied him. He’d put some thought into the idea of pursuing her instead of Zephia. Although she was aging gracefully, he hadn't thought of those suns for many winters. He stared at her now in blank confusion. She stood poised with another spear held over her shoulder, waiting for the next move.
But why did she throw the spear? Why did she kill Fahim? Everything became clear. Azerban remembered Dolaria had a daughter Azaria's age named Jesenia. In fact she shared many of Azaria's physical features. Azerban turned back toward Fahim, finally seeing the man with the severed head in his hands on his knees, weeping uncontrollably. It was Dolaria’s mate, Disjad, holding his dead daughter. Great relief fell upon him, but also guilt and overwhelming sympathy for the grieving man and the woman with raised spear. But how did this happen? How did Azaria and Yumineh escape their fate?
Everyone stood frozen, stunned into silence, waiting to see what would happen next. Who would also feel Dolaria's wrath? Azerban took a few steps toward her, past Fahim’s bloodied frame.
Takur stood above his dead mate, staring uncomprehendingly at the spear stuck erect in her back and the growing circle of blood staining her feathered ceremonial outfit. For a long moment he stared at her, trembling, before turning his eyes upward. He saw Azerban standing in the middle of the path, the back of his head and back caked in dried blood. He noticed the woman behind him, with a spear ready. Dolaria! Jesenia's mother. He wondered why. How did Dolaria know what really happened? It didn't matter.
He lifted a feeble arm and extended his wrinkled index finger. "Murderer! You did this!" he croaked, his vibrato rising in fury. Those who were still staring at Fahim turned their heads toward the accused woman. "Take her!" Takur yelled. "Somebody, take her!"
