“There isn’t time, Ifunka, for us to wed. The night grows short. How shall we search for Brother Ushwan during daylight? What if they sacrifice him tonight, or in the morning? We don’t know their customs.”
“Tvem said: ‘There is always time. We are all given enough time, if we use it well.’”
“Fine,” Shem conceded. “Let’s do it. Let’s get married. I will marry you and rva and you will marry me and Meyla.”
“We wed?” asked rva, her eyes bright with joy.
“Yes,” said Ifunka. “We wed now. Shem will marry us. I will marry Meyla and Shem. We are monks so we have the requisite authority to marry others, just as we married our Brother Ffen to his three wives back in Ffash Valley.”
They went to the reception room that they had first entered when they sneaked into the house some hours previously. The women and Shem seated themselves while Ifunka spoke.
“Peace and greetings to all who are gathered to witness this holy rite,” he said, uttering the traditional formula of greeting used in weddings. “We have come together, in this house, to wed this bird to this root, that is: Meyla, daughter of Ashka-Hafta, who is not present, of the Shaffu, and Shem Effga, son of Shadka Effga, a brother of the Holy Order of the Brothers of Bishgva of the Right Religion of the Sacred Tamitvar, of the Monastery of the Brown Owl. Dost thou agree to wed this fast root?”
Meyla, not comprehending the formula, was silent.
“Say, harei (‘yea so’),” Shem whispered.
“Harei!” she said, enthusiastically.
“Dost thou agree to marry this bird?” Ifunka asked Shem.
Before Shem could answer, they heard a door or gate swing open and then fasten shut behind them.
“Yai!” rva screeched before Ifunka put his hand over her mouth.
“Baba okh-an (my father)!” she said in a muffled voice.
“This is bad, brother, very bad!” said Shem fearfully. “It’s her father!”
“My father,” she explained. “Priest of Sharru. I no believe Sharru, he sacrifice me on pyre. I with you; I believe Great Spirit, one God, Right Religion. What we do?”
“Shem? Ideas?” asked Ifunka desperately.
“We kill him; it’s the only way.”
“Shem!”
“You started the killing, brother; we can’t stop now. There is much more blood to shed.”
“No kill; no father!” rva protested. She was boiling with emotion.
“rva!!!” her father called. He had heard voices. “Sheff ftâ-yish-ô? Khuff velâsh-ish-ô (Where are you? What’s going on)?”
“Baba (Father)!” she called in reply. “Iftâff okh-ish (I’m here)!”
“We grab him, we tie him up,” Ifunka suggested.
Shem gave him a stern look.
“This was your plan originally.”
“He’s the chief priest!” said Shem angrily.
“Be that as it may, there is no easy solution to any of this. I simply can’t murder the father of a woman I love.”
“On your head be it!”
“rva,” Ifunka instructed her. “Stand at the back of the room. Shem and I will grab your father. Meyla will help to tie him up and gag him.”
“My father!”
“We won’t kill him,” Ifunka assured her. “If you want us to live, help us.”
She nodded and said “rî (yes).”
“Okay, he’s coming,” Ifunka whispered.
They heard his footsteps as he paced down the corridor and walked into the room. As he stepped over the threshold, Shem extended his staff, tripping him up. He fell forwards with a groan and the two monks jumped onto him, pinning him to the ground.
“Khuff fteff fto-yeym-ish-ô (what’s the meaning of this)?” he cried. “rva, vâ loft lâm-ôn ftâ-yish-ô (rva, why are you standing there)?”
Her eyes welled up with tears, her face betraying agony and upset while Meyla followed suit, bursting into a torrent of tears. rva shook her head.
“Meyla???” he called out.
Meyla looked down in shame.
“Kha (no)!!!” he screamed and struggled against his captors. “Khalam-Sharru okh-ish, Predh-bara Khanshaff-eym. Flevâ khaikh-ôn fto akhfeb-ish-ô? Flevâ ftâ-ga-yish-ô! rva-yem khuff akhfeb-ôn ftâ-ga mon-ish (I am Khalam-Sharru. I am the High-Priest of Khanshaff. Who dares to do this? Who are ye? What have you done to rva)?”
“Be quiet!” Ifunka yelled angrily. “You’re our prisoner!”
“Ei? Khaffshik-zen! Kha-vamtâ (Ey? Infidels! Not possible)!”
“Yes, you call us khaffshiks, but we are the true believers. You are the infidel.”
“You call me and my family infidels?” asked the priest in heavily-accented Tremni, his voice burning with rage. “How dare you? You shall die for this! You shall die for this!!!”
“No, just you, priest. Your daughter is one of us now, as is Meyla.”
“Khuff (what)???” he screamed again.
“Shut him up, Shem,” Ifunka ordered.
Shem stuffed a piece of cloth in his mouth.
“No… rva… No!”
He could speak no more.
“rva, tell him,” said Ifunka. “Tell your father.”
“Hafflî Ralîshva tekh-ôn mon-ish (I have accepted the Right Religion),” she told him. “Khan-Vabakh khedhi-yôn okh-ish, Tesh dhi khû-yish (I believe in the Great Spirit, there is one God).”
“Urrrrr,” she groaned as he struggled; Ifunka and Meyla tied his wrists together while Shem secured his feet.
“Khodh-paft okh-an Ifunka-yish (Ifunka is my lover),” she continued. “Khû okh yîff-ôn khon-ish ffi Shem Meyla yîff-ôn khon-ish (I will marry him and Meyla will marry Shem).”
“Urrrrggg!!!”
He tried to break free. His eyes displayed hopelessness, anger and despair. He had lost what was most precious to him in all the world; he saw only blood and vengeance. They dragged Khalam-Sharru to the edge of the room and Shem guarded him.
“This is making the wedding rather complicated,” said Ifunka. “Shall we start from the beginning or shall I just ask you for your consent, Shem?”
“Hmmm,” he pondered, keeping one eye on the infidel priest. “Best to start again.”
“Peace and greetings to all who are gathered…”
There was a knock on the door—the ground floor entrance.
“…to witness this holy rite.”
Knock, knock, knock.
“Brother?” asked Shem.
“They’ll go away if there’s no answer”
Knock, knock, knock.
“Huh, huh,” Khalam-Sharru gave a muffled laugh.
“Why are you laughing?” asked Shem.
Knock, knock, knock.
Chapter XVI.
House of Slaughter
“The door, rva, get the door,” said Ifunka in an authoritative tone.
“Rî, my love. Meyla, ifta-krâ!”
rva kissed Ifunka on the lips and turned, reluctantly, to go downstairs. Meyla grabbed Shem’s hands and held them tight.
“I go; I come,” she said.
“It’s okay,” Shem comforted her. “Whatever happens, you are always in my heart.”
“I love you,” she said.
“And I you,” he replied as she joined rva and headed for the door.
Ifunka and Shem kept quiet and listened attentively to hear who it might be who had come to the house at so late an hour. Khalam-Sharru struggled with his bonds and tried to shuffle back and forth on the floor.
“Shem, knock him out,” ordered Ifunka.
Shem took his staff and, with a solid thwack, immobilized rva’s father and rendered him unconscious. The girls reached the door.
“Flevâ-yish-ô (Who is it)?” she could be heard to call.
“Eyn-fach-
zen (watchmen)!” came the reply.
“Khuff shift-ôn ftâ-gei-yish (what do ye want)?” they asked.
“Hakvra-krâ! Khalam-Sharru-yem shipktâ-yôn ftâkh-ish (open up! We must speak to Khalam-Sharru)!” they shouted.
“Kha, kha iftâff khû-yish (no, he’s not here).”
“Hakvra-krâ (open up)!” they repeated.
“Kha, vâ (no, why)?” shouted rva.
The watchmen banged on the door again.
“Meyla, yôt kakvra-krâ (Meyla, open up the door),” rva ordered.
“Yonffey (mistress)?” asked Meyla.
“Kha ramai-krâ (don’t worry),” rva reassured her.
As Meyla twisted the lock, four armed watchmen burst through the door, knocking Meyla on the floor in the process.
“Dashvôdh-zen (bastards)!” rva cursed them.
“Sheff Khalam-Sharru-yish-ô (where is Khalam-Sharru)?” they demanded.
“Ftâ-gei yishk-ôn okh mon-ish—kha iftâff khû-yish (I told you—he’s not here)!” she insisted.
“Khû vish-ôn ftâkh khon-ish (we will find him),” said their leader.
The leader directed two of the watchmen to head upstairs while he searched downstairs.
“Ftôn eyn-krâ (watch them),” he ordered the remaining watchman, directing him to watch the two girls.
Ifunka and Shem could hear footsteps on the stairs.
“Right, Ifunka,” said Shem. “It sounds like there’s two of them.”
“This shouldn’t be happening. They’ve come to see Khalam-Sharru and they’re not taking no for an answer. Opposite sides of the door!”
The watchmen rigorously searched every room for Khalam-Sharru, until they came to the room where he lay unconscious. The door was open and they could see his unconscious body on the floor.
“Predh-bara (High-priest)!” they cried as they rushed into the room to help him.
Ifunka thwacked one of them on the head, knocking him flat unconscious while Shem missed the head of the other but managed to hit him on the back of his neck, cracking the bone. The watchman gurgled bile and foamed at the mouth, choking on his own fluids before falling dead.
“Sorry,” said Shem before they started tying up the other one.
“Can’t we kill this one?” asked Shem.
“We might need to interrogate him,” Ifunka replied.
The head watchman had finished searching the ground floor.
“Baksh-Sharru, Hara-Sheft!” he called the two watchmen’s names. “Sheff ftâ-ga-yish-ô (Where are you two)?”
No response.
“Eshai-krâ (report)!” he ordered.
Again, no response.
He grew anxious. The head watchman called his colleague to follow him and rushed upstairs.
“Okh-ifft ifta-krâ (come with me)!” the watchmen ordered the girls to follow him up the stairs.
As they were going up, rva grabbed a candle-holder with candle attached and blew it out. Meyla followed her up silently. When they reached the top of the stairs, the chief watchman began frantically to search. The second watchman took the girls into one of the bedrooms. Meyla closed the door behind them, discreetly, while rva raised the candle-holder high above the watchman’s oblivious head. She, with all her strength, brought it down on his skull, knocking him thoroughly unconscious. His head bled profusely—he was dying. The chief watchman heard a thump.
“Kumkha-Shaffu!” he called. “Kumkha-Shaffu! Khuff velâsh-ôn mon-ish-ô (Kumkha-Shaffu! What has happened)?”
There was no response. He was on the threshold of the reception room, where Ifunka and Shem waited to leap upon him in order to deliver his quietus. He turned, unsure of where to go, his back to the room. Seizing the opportunity, Ifunka and Shem thwacked him with their staffs, hitting him on the shoulder and back. He cried in agony and fell to his knees. Shem bonked him on the head and he collapsed. They tied him up and placed him next to Khalam-Sharru and Hara-Sheft, the only surviving captives. The girls dragged Kumkha-Shaffu’s body into the room.
“Well done, ladies,” said Ifunka triumphantly. “Put his body next to the other dead watchman. Shem, help them.”
They laid his still-bleeding half-corpse on top of Baksh-Sharru. rva rushed into Ifunka’s arms. Her heart beat strongly—fiercely; her cheeks were flush—tears streamed from her eyes.
“I kill shaff!” she said, her voice agonized, tremulous.
“What did you say?” asked Ifunka.
“I kill a man!” she repeated, her voice choked.
“That’s odd—I’m sure I heard you say you killed someone else,” he remarked but his words went in one ear and out the other as she clung to him for comfort, her hands shaking, her body trembling. While he should have been thinking only of comforting a woman in distress, her trembling excited the baser sentiments within his impassioned loins. He released her, or rather, pushed her away.
“rva, there’s work to do.”
She looked at him, confused.
“Shem!”
He was also holding Meyla. The two rocked back and forth in one embrace, like two rocking-chairs locked together in a perpetual exchange of momentum.
“Yes, brother?”
“We need a bucket of water and some salt. We’re going to interrogate the infidels.”
They sat up the three prisoners and splashed water in their faces. They all awoke with a start. Frantic eyes looked one at another and then at their captors, including rva and Meyla, who were now cold in expression—even to her father—looking sternly on.
“rva! Meyla!” shouted Khalam-Sharru. “Khuff akhfeb-ôn ftâ-ga-yish-ô (what are you two doing)?”
“Speak Tremni, father!” she shouted back at him defiantly. “I am not Shaffu.”
“Unholy child—ingrate!” he shouted. “I raised you pure, through sixteen years, touching no man, yet here you are: the slut of a khaffshik dog???”
“He not touch me; we marry soon—today.”
“Over my dead body!!!”
“You die? Die! You are khaffshik. I know truth now. One God—one Great Spirit—He make everything. He make sun—He make moons—He save my soul. You teach me Sharru; you teach me lie—death my soul: Gahimka!”
“Gahimka, Ganka! These are lies of the khaffshiks! I am your father—you believe me!”
“No—your eyes are not truth! I see eyes with light. I see Ifunka eyes; in them truth and beauty.”
“One day! One day and all my world is ruined! One day! One day!”
“That’s enough!” said Ifunka. “Your only task in life now—all three of you—is to answer my questions. You give us what we need, you might get to live. At the most, one or two of you might live. At least one or two of you will die; I can guarantee you that. If you lie to me, I will kill you. If you don’t answer me, I will kill you. If you try to escape, I will kill you. If I feel like it, I will kill you. Is that understood, Khalam-Sharru?”
“Yes,” he replied in an indignant tone.
“Watchmen?”
“Yessss!”
“Why did the watchmen come to this house tonight?”
No one answered.
“Shem?”
Shem took a knife and cut the two watchmen’s cheeks. They squirmed with pain. Then, taking salt in hand, he smothered it all over their wounds. They twisted their heads and necks, grimacing yet more, but they did not answer.
“rva, Meyla, don’t look,” Ifunka advised. “Their feet!”
Shem raised one of the watchmen’s axes in order to dismember the captives’ feet.
“Wait, wait, wait!!!” pleaded the chief watchman.
“Hara-Sheft is my subordinate. I am responsible for his actions. Do not take his feet!”
“Answer us or you will die!” shouted Ifunka.
“Leave Hara-Sheft; he will answer you no
thing without my command.”
“Very well, then,” said Ifunka. “Then we don’t need him. Shem!”
Shem raised the axe and brought it down with full force, striking off the watchman’s head. The dead man’s body shook briefly and gorged the commander and Khalam-Sharru in a sea of blood; Shem’s face was covered with it; the wall was splattered.
“Ah, ah, ah, ah!!!” the commander screamed repeatedly and in quick succession. “Kha, kha, kha, kha (no, no, no, no)!!!”
He burst into tears.
“His soul is now in Gahimka,” said Ifunka, who almost seemed to relish the spectacle. “Where seas of fire burn the infidels through all eternity. There Afflish the Accursed reigns, until the time when he shall be chained up and cast into the abyss. Gahimka is the abode of denial—the place where all evil-doers shall receive their reward. Do you want to receive your reward, watchman? Do you want to join your friend?”
“Hey, hey, hey, hey,” he said, trying to calm Ifunka. “Calm down! I will tell you everything!”
“You weak dog! You’re going to pander to this khaffshik shiflakh—this piece of filth?” Khalam-Sharru upbraided him.
“Shem, teach Khalam-Sharru a lesson in politeness,” said Ifunka.
“rva, keep your eyes closed,” warned Shem.
He took his knife and cut the priest on the shoulder, rubbing salt deep within the wound.
“Ahhhhhh!” he screamed.
“Do you like it?” asked Ifunka. “I love salt—it gives just the right flavour to everything, doesn’t it?”
“I thought monks were better than this,” said Khalam-Sharru as he clenched his teeth in agony. “It’s all driving you mad, isn’t it? You’re no better than us. You’re a murderer!”
“I do what I have to do,” Ifunka replied angrily. “You demon-worshippers killed my family—my uncle and aunt—the only people who ever loved me. Then you took my friend, Ushwan, from me. You make us travel through this whole forest, through yeshkas and bandits, lake worms, forest worms, shan and watchmen. Clay men—they took our friend, the wandering minstrel; Ffen—he’s left behind in Ffash Valley. I’ve lost everything!—everything! But I’m going to get Ushwan back. Ushwan will not die at your hands, false priest! That watchman was not murdered; he was one of you—the murderers! You eat people—you sacrifice virgins to a god that doesn’t even exist! Is it murder to kill infidels who are themselves murderers? I think not.”
The Rise of Plant Man, Lord of War, Conquest and Revenge: Green Monk of Tremn, Part II (Coins of Amon-Ra Book 2) Page 7
