The Download

by R. E. Carr

  “Buffalo? Weird.” She gobbled down a few more bites. “What does Sora-khar mean, anyway?”

  Kaschaka raised a brow. “You certainly are as a child. The Sora-khar is the chosen of Man. The moment the Serif-fan is born into this world, she chooses her worldly counterpart. He will join with her and together they will free the seals that bind our Lost God.”

  “‘Join with her?’ Did I choose somebody to join with already?”

  Kaschaka wiped a dribble off Jenn’s chin. “You chose Lord Kei Zhanfos. You reached for him and called his name.”

  “But I was just looking for the light—”

  “The light you reached for was the reflection of Lord Kei’s cursed eyes, Serif-fan. You then called for him.”

  “Kei? I thought I said blue . . .”

  “Translation note. In this particular dialect, the word Kei means what you would consider a shade of blue. I failed to differentiate initially, due to the shock of my program integrating with yours.”

  “I didn’t mean anything. I just—”

  “The Scrolls of Nanut are clear. ‘The Serif-fan chooses the Sora-khar when first she enters the world.’ That is why we have always put our most worthy warriors in the Summoning chamber, but of course, who are we to judge what heaven wishes?”

  “So this Kei is your best warrior, and he’s going to help me so I can go home?”

  “Lord Kei was not who our people chose. He was who you chose, Serif-fan.”

  Jenn groaned. “I screwed up already. I chose the wrong guy?”

  “You did no wrong, Serif-fan. You simply followed the signs that heaven gave you. You said yourself that you saw a blue light reaching into the darkness. The Great Spirit was guiding you, I am sure.”

  “I’m glad somebody has faith in me, but I still have no idea how to unseal your god.”

  “That is precisely why the Sora-khar is chosen: to guide you. Lord Kei has lived in this world his whole life. He is a hunter and a brave warrior.”

  “Really? He’s going to help me?”

  “He has no choice. It is his destiny.”

  “Um . . .”

  “Do you want to meet him?” Kaschaka asked. “Here, try this. It’s bread.”

  Jenn greedily tore a hunk out of something that vaguely resembled black cornbread. Her eyes lit up after a teeny bite. She devoured the entire piece before Kaschaka could even get a word in.

  The old priestess smiled. “That is what I like to see, Serif-fan. Are you feeling well enough to meet Kei now?”

  “I don’t know. I feel really . . . Really overwhelmed right now.”

  “Of course. Why, I should get you some clothes! I had the ceremonial garb of Nanut ready, but it was not designed for a woman of your proportions. As we speak, the most dexterous of my priestesses is creating a new robe for you. We did not expect you to be so tall, I am afraid.”

  “Tall? Me? Tall? I’m the shortest in my family.”

  Jenn eyed the priestess closely. Although she was quite stocky and imposing, Kaschaka couldn’t be any taller than five feet.

  “Creatures from heaven should be taller than men,” Kaschaka sighed. The old woman motioned over her shoulder. “Mikah, have we anything to dress the Serif-fan in?”

  Jenn began to blush. “Oh God, I was naked.”

  “I would not worry so much. Let me slip this on you.”

  Jenn found the strength to raise her arms so that the priestesses could wrap her up in a soft, knobby shirt. Jenn kept marveling how the strange light in that world made even an earth-toned tunic seem alive and bright. A loincloth and some slippers later, Jenn stopped blushing. Her illusion was shattered, however, when she saw that her skirt barely covered her rear.

  “It is common, but it will do for now. We have one other in our village that is close to your size. We shall send for her to give you some clothes.”

  “Thank you. Whoa, I feel dizzy. My head is killing me.”

  Kaschaka stared with concern. “I do not think you will die from a headache, but I will send for a shaman if you like.”

  “No, no. It’s just an expression,” Jenn said quickly.

  “Priestess!” someone cried from the hall. “Lord Kei demands to be released so he may join the Holy Hunt.”

  Kaschaka shook her head. The beads on her ornate headdress clinked like bells. “He still refuses the truth,” she sighed.

  “What’s going on?” Jenn asked.

  “Lord Kei was . . . surprised to have been chosen as the Sora-khar.”

  The girl by the door looked on helplessly. “I hear he is trying to claw through the walls, High Priestess.”

  “Have the guards knock some sense into him, then make him presentable and bring him to the Serif-fan,” Kaschaka called back. “My Serif-fan, Lord Kei is not a pure Man. He sometimes does not fully understand our ways.”

  “And he’s supposed to help me?” Jenn asked.

  “Heaven is mysterious. We never question it.”

  “I’ll want to know everything when my headache goes away.”

  “CALA, can you hear me?”

  “Affirmative.”

  “Are you causing these headaches?”

  “Negative, the sensations are caused by the rapid growth of a new nerve cluster stretching from your brain to my I/O unit—”

  “New nerves?”

  “Sixteen, to be precise. All appear to be developing normally and in accordance with the retrovirus’s parameters.”

  “Are there any more ‘parameters’ I should be warned about?”

  “A twelve-percent increase in metabolic rate, eighteen-point-nine-percent increase in lung capacity to compensate for the atmosphere, and an overall improvement in strength and stamina has currently been logged. Intelligence and perception capabilities should also be increased once this new nerve cluster becomes assimilated.”

  “That freaks me out, CALA.”

  “Anxiety levels will be raised due to increased stimulation in the brain.”

  “Great . . .”

  “Serif-fan? Serif-fan!” Jenn heard as she came to.

  “Huh? Sorry, I was lost in thought.”

  “The jewel in your forehead began to glow and you grew dreadfully pale. I was worried,” Kaschaka said.

  “Jewel? What jewel?”

  “A ruby. It broke through your skin a moment ago.”

  “Oh my God,” Jenn said as she swooned. She grabbed another hunk of bread and curled up in a corner. “This is so messed up. First voices, now a rock in my head—”

  “My lady, Saikain Zhanfos is here to see the Serif-fan,” Mikah said from the door. “Shall I let him in?”

  “Not until she has seen her chosen first. Ask him to wait,” Kaschaka muttered.

  “Who is Saikain Zhanfos?” Jenn asked.

  “The heir to our Warlord, The Great Bear Matahk Khanfos. Saikain Zhanfos is our most honored hero, leader of the Tiger’s Claws, protector of our sacred Gracow City. He wishes to do you honor, Serif-fan, but I feel he must wait until after his brother has seen you.”

  “It’s OK. If this Saikain wants to see me, let him.”

  “As you wish, Serif-fan.” Kaschaka said.

  Jenn caught her breath as a taller, leaner figure strode into the room. Saikain Zhanfos was a compact mass of pure muscle—barely covered by a black leather tunic. His ginger-and-black hair fell in heavy waves over his broad shoulders, and a few even longer braids snaked their way through the thick tangle. He smiled to the maid by the door. In a world that looked to Jenn like it had never seen fluoride, his pointy teeth shone perfectly white.

  “Hi,” Jenn said with a lame wave.

  Saikain dropped to his knees. “I come only to honor you, great Serif-fan. Please accept this offering from the Warlord’s family as a token of our undying service and loyalty.”

  He held out a wrapped bundle with his hands, not daring to look up at her. Jenn looked around in confusion.

  “Um . . .OK,” Jenn said, approaching him. She tugged the edges of her
shirt down as daintily as she could. Saikain kept his head bowed.

  She opened the gift. “This is gorgeous!” she yelped as she saw a necklace of painstakingly etched silver plates. “It looks like something out of a museum.”

  “It was a gift to my father from Iaxani Nijal, his first concubine and loyal servant of twenty seasons. It is all that remains of that woman—save her son, your chosen Sora-khar. I thought it would be appropriate for you to wear it now, my Serif-fan.”

  “Call me Jenn, please.”

  “Ji-ann? That was what my brother kept saying during the ceremony. I only wish I had understood in time . . .in time to call to you myself, great Serif-fan,” Saikain said.

  “I will have none of that talk, Saikain Zhanfos. Your brother is chosen, not you,” Kaschaka snapped.

  “Excuse me—” Jenn said.

  “I came here to offer myself as the Serif-fan’s protector in my brother’s absence, nothing more, Old Priestess. You would be wise to remember that,” Saikain snarled.

  “You would be wise to remember that you are in my temple. You have made your offering. Return to your father until the Serif-fan is ready to be seen.”

  “Um—” Jenn started. She grabbed the necklace and slunk back into the farthest corner of her bed.

  “Priestess, we have Lord Kei prepared!” someone called from the hall.

  “Go now, Saikain Zhanfos. She will be able to see you soon enough,” Kaschaka said.

  Saikain finally raised his eyes to meet Jenn’s. The Serif-fan shuddered. His irises reflected pure gold. Jenn shifted in her seat.

  “He’s so hot,” she muttered to herself. “Don’t translate that, CALA.”

  “Blocking translation program.”

  “Thanks. You know, you actually are convenient at times.”

  “That is my primary function, Jenn.”

  “Ugh. I think I was glowing again,” Jenn said as she came back. “Gotta get used to an inner dialogue rather than monologue.”

  He was gone. The gorgeous warrior was gone, replaced by a pair of disturbed-looking maids in layered, green silk robes. Behind them Jenn could see a black hood swaying a bit.

  “My great Serif-fan, the Sora-khar is here,” Kaschaka said. “We shall leave you two.”

  “Um . . .”

  The four women in the room dutifully filed out as the man in robes was shoved in. Compared to all the other people she had seen recently, this one was a veritable giant, his head nearly touching the ceiling. Jenn tried to smile, even when she saw how his hands were wrapped in leather straps. His hood twitched in an odd fashion. She watched it move back and forth in a different rhythm on each side. A single, long braid stretched out from under the hood. It began a platinum blond and ended in jet black.

  He just stood there, twitching. For a second, she saw the end of his cloak flitting with a life of its own. A flash of gray fur caught her eye, but she wasn’t quite sure where it came from.

  “You chose me?” he whispered. “The Lost God actually chose me?”

  His voice cracked as he spoke. Jenn remained silent with a dumbfounded look on her face. He continued to stand with his stiff shoulders and strange twitching. Jenn inched back a bit.

  “I’m not sure what happened. Really, I just thought—”

  “You are the Ji-ann I dreamed about? I had hoped you would be an omen of the Holy Hunt, but instead you turned out to be the damned Serif-fan!”

  “Who the hell are you? I didn’t know—”

  “This is wonderful. The savior of our race does not have the slightest idea what to do with me either,” Kei spat.

  “I—I thought you were supposed to help me. I don’t know what to tell you—”

  The cloaked man turned his back to her. “I do not know what to tell you either. Perhaps I should show you.”

  The ice in his words made her shiver. She pulled a pelt close to her chest. The hooded man slowly reached up and untied the laces at his chest.

  “Tell me, Serif-fan, is this what you intend to join with?” he asked.

  His cloak fell away to reveal chalky, gray-toned skin. The deep furrows of claw scars cut the back of his neck in half. His hair was hacked off, jagged, but two braids remained that fell nearly to his waist. Jenn stared at his ears. Long tufts of black-and-gray fur puffed out from the tapered tips. As his cloak fell completely to the floor, Jenn realized that the twitching came from a lengthy, banded tail that swished back and forth. The color drained from Jenn’s face as Kei turned back to her.

  He wore only a mottled fur vest over his sickly skin. The well-worn garment was marred and stitched with patches in several places. With one hand, he pulled away the leather wrappings that bound his arms. His tight leather pants were laced in an open pattern up both sides and he only wore thin sandals on his four-toed feet.

  “Oh . . . my . . . God,” Jenn gulped.

  As the wrappings fell away, she saw spotted fur. Kei bared his pronounced fangs.

  “Your eyes!” Jenn gasped.

  There were no whites, just bright-blue irises with that same reflective sheen a feline’s had. The light from the window had reduced his pupils to near slits. She recognized the amazing color, though.

  “It was your eyes.”

  Kei stretched out his newly freed paw. Jenn stared at the strange combination of human and feline articulation. It had retractable claws and soft pads, but it clearly bent and moved like a human hand. His other hand had only three fingers and a thumb. Jenn shook in her bed.

  “Tell me, Serif-fan. I am waiting.”

  “You’re not human!” she gasped. She struggled to catch her breath again.

  “As you can see, I am not suitable to join with you after all.”

  “What are—are you? A c-c-cat?” Jenn asked, still trembling.

  Kei winced. “My totem cursed me on my first change. I never regained my original form.”

  “Totem?”

  “The Great Snow Leopard both honored me and cursed me. I had hoped that I could go on a Holy Hunt to appease him, but as your Sora-khar I am now forbidden to leave your side!”

  “I-I . . .”

  Kei roared. It sounded just like a leopard’s roar. Jenn screamed and cowered under her covers. Kaschaka rushed into the room.

  “See! The holy ones do not even dare look at me for fear of becoming tainted. Think about that. Review this decision, Serif-fan. I pray you find the wisdom to change your mind,” Kei snarled as he stormed out of the room.

 

  Far away from Gracow City, across the plains and western jungles, the pool in the Chamber of Phantoms turned red as the priests eased their champion into the water. The creature kept his head lowered, allowing row upon row of raven feathers to fall over his painted shoulders. The creature’s expression remained frozen as a clean-shaven attendant began picking slivers out of the arrow wound on its arm.

  “Looks like this one gave you a fight, slave,” the attendant muttered. He didn’t bother sterilizing his needle over the torch before sliding it into the Phantom’s flesh. “You should be more careful. We can’t have the empress’s favorite toy broken before she wants to throw it out.”

  The Phantom remained a statue, allowing itself to be cleansed of the blood. The priests tied three fresh feathers into its tangled, violet hair. One of them paused to count just how many sacrifices had been knotted into the mess before.

  “No one kills as well as our precious Eon,” the priest sighed. “Still, it is odd for it to be wounded. Does it seem distracted to you, brother?”

  The attendant shrugged. “Who knows what goes on inside the mind of a Phantom? You stripped it of its will. You would know what it thinks better than I!”

  The Phantom slowly raised its head. Its milky-white eyes traced the reflection of the stars in the pool. “Something has come,” it whispered.

  The attendant jumped back. “Brother! It spoke! The Phantom spoke, even with its full chains on!” he cried.

  The P
hantom rolled its head in the direction of the movement. Paint and blood warped its face into the visage of a demon. It raised a hand toward the stars. Six rows of black iron stretched from its skin to the water.

  “Be warned. Something terrible has come.”

 

  Preparation

 

  Jenn fidgeted as Kaschaka and a veritable horde of Beast Tribe women fussed over her. She tapped her toes and gnawed her lip.

  “My mom wasn’t this fussy when I went to prom, guys. What’s the big deal?” Jenn asked.

  Kaschaka looked up from her stitching, a bone needle poised dangerously in her hand. “As I have explained to you before, the Serif-fan is a great symbol to our people. I will not have you running around in commoner’s clothes. Now please hold still!”

  Jenn’s shoulders slumped a bit. “I’m not used to this.”

  “I can tell.”

  She raised her arms. She lowered her arms. Still, the fitting continued. She ran her fingers down the pale golden cloth every now and again.

  “It’s Andari silk,” Kaschaka noted. “Our spiderwomen weave it only for shamans and those most holy.”

  “It’s beautiful,” Jenn said as her attendants began braiding more silk with leather. Soon they wove it over something that looked like giant fish bones—and ended up creating a corset around Jenn’s waist.

  “You need to eat more,” Kaschaka sighed as she yanked the belt in further. The temple warden sighed over her shoulder. “Get me some smaller bone thread and more silk. There is a tear, and that simply will not do.”

  Jenn grimaced as she struggled to breathe in her new outfit. A few minutes later even more women rushed into her room, but Jenn instantly locked on to the first person she had to look up to since her run-in with Lord Kei.

  “You’re human,” Jenn said in awe.

  The blonde girl furrowed her unpronounced brows. “I am not human. I am only rabble from the Jinkan Province.” She then bowed and presented fresh silks to Kaschaka. “Here is the work you requested, Priestess.”