Blood and Sand Trilogy Box Set

by Jon Kiln

  26

  “What the hell was that thing?” Vekal gasped, when the distant sound of roars and anger had subsided to a dull groan far above. The stairs kept had kept on winding, their construction becoming rougher and rougher the further down he went. Almost as if he were descending through time itself, to the prehistory of even this ancient city. The air was fresh and humid with moisture, and Vekal could hear the occasional drips and trickling noises of water.

  “You don’t want to know,” Ikrit said heavily, and seemed about to leave it at that, but the priest was furious.

  “I wouldn’t ask, if I didn’t want to know,” Vekal snapped. “You seem to know an awful lot about that thing that had just tried to kill me.”

  “I am one of the Undying. I am a fiend from the hellish pits. I know many things,” Ikrit’s voice buzzed.

  “Bull-crap.” Vekal had had enough. “I know that you are hiding something from me about this place. You were terrified of that thing.”

  “I was not scared! Ikrit never gets scared!” the devil protested, quite unconvincingly in the Sin Eater’s consideration.

  “You were terrified,” the priest repeated. “And you have been acting strangely ever since we entered Telset.”

  There was a pregnant silence between them, inside the occupied priest’s mind, and it felt to Vekal like Ikrit might be pausing for breath, when suddenly the steps stopped, and Vekal saw that he was no longer descending, but had emerged into a long and narrow cavern. The floor beneath his feet was bare rock, and the ceilings were all un-built, natural rock-face. The only difference from this in the walls were the many cavities, each about six feet long, and each holding the sideways display of a mouldering skeleton.

  “This is a crypt,” the priest said, wondering why he felt a shiver of unease. As one of the Accursed himself, he knew that the body was just a vessel for the undying spirits inside, and that all things moved on through the cycle of rebirths, until eventually being light enough to ascend to heaven. Why be spooked by the remains of a container?

  “Maybe you can sense some of the old magic that still clings to them,” Ikrit the devil said, and its voice was not the usual mocking, sarcastic, cruel tones that it had been as it continued. “Welcome, Vekal Morson. These are my people, mine when I was alive. Welcome to my Kingdom of the Dead.”

  “What nonsense is this?” Vekal sniffed the air, smelling only cold and clean stone, not a hint of decay or foulness. These skeletons must have died a long time ago.

  “The reason why I know so much about Telset, Vekal Sin Eater, is because I was destined to live here, once. These bodies that you see around me are my dead kin, my friends, my enemies, and relations.”

  Vekal swore lightly to the dark, walking with cautious steps past the corpses. “And that is why you knew so much about the history of this place? And why you didn’t want me touching those statues? Why not just say?” The priest felt suddenly very tired of all of the spirit’s lies and deceptions.

  “Because I had hoped not to remind myself of what this place was meant to be,” Ikrit said, in a tone that Vekal was certain was sad, if he had heard it from any flesh and blood creature

  “And that creature up there? The Shoggoth? It is the same creature from the carvings everywhere?”

  “Yes. They kept it, you see. It was an abomination, but they kept it.”

  “They used to call me that too, once,” Vekal murmured, as their steps passed more and more bodies. The passageway seemed endless, extending far into the dark ahead as if all the world’s dead were to be buried here.

  “Yes. But you were born of flesh and blood, or at least I hope so. You were not born of dark magic, and foul rites.”

  “What?” Even the Sin Eater felt a creeping nausea, and wondered if he really wanted to know what the devil had done when he was alive.

  “Seeing as we are so near to our goal, I will tell you the story of this place, priest—although you will not thank me for it.” Ikrit’s voice buzzed inside of the priest’s head, as the man’s feet made echoing noises on the cold stone below. Ahead of them the passageway stretched, seemingly forever, and lined by the catacombs of the dead. The Sin Eater had the distinct impression that they were listening to the devil’s talk too.

  ***

  I was born, once.

  I know—it might seem impossible to think of it now, but it is true. I was once flesh and blood just like you, just like any other. I had a name that was not Ikrit, or devil, or foul. I had human limbs, human clothes, and human loves.

  I did not know, of course, that I was destined to become a Greater Abomination—just as I did not know that even such things existed. You see, the people of Telset did not believe in the same things that the people of Tir’an’fal believed in, or Fuldoon. We didn’t believe in bird-headed gods and the river of time, forever washing us all down to be reborn once again.

  How simple, and innocent we were; all of us back then at the beginning of the world.

  You may mock me, and say that I am being prideful. That I could not be that old, as to be born outside of history itself, and I am sure that, at least in part you are right. Even amongst us, the people of the southern coasts, we knew of others who had lived before us. Of lost peoples, and of mythical races and creatures that flew in the air or walked underwater.

  You see, the world was very different back then. It was fresher, younger, brighter. It was not so unusual as it is now to have those who could perform small tricks. Wise people who could predict the weather, or give you a blessing or a charm for safe travel. I like to think that the world was nearer to its original state—to how it should always have been—before Telset.

  We called ourselves the Vor, which, in our language just meant ‘the people’. We spread along the southern coasts in our vessels that were as tall as trees, and we loved the sea. We traveled far to the north, east, and west—no one could match us on the waves! We thought ourselves great, and destined to rule the world.

  I was born to a great family. A human family who lived with great wealth and splendor, and who attended the councils of the chiefs. The Vor did not have kings or queens you see, we had councils made of the heads of the families, who would come together to decide what was best for the rest. I grew up, groomed to one day be a chief, and I took advantage of that fact. I was a proud and arrogant young princeling. I charted my own yachts and sailed across the waters. I surrounded myself with the brightest, the strongest, the richest and the most attractive companions.

  I am not proud of the man that I was, but it was still better than the devil that I later became.

  I was returning from our latest slaving expedition—yes, we Vor were slavers, just as the Menaali are today, when I saw her. The most beautiful noblewoman, and eldest daughter of one of the strongest of noble houses. I saw her and I fell in love. She had hair the color of midnight, and skin as rich as the deep, burning sands. She wore the softest of veils, that descended to wrap around her body like a ribbon of smoke, and there followed from her the scent of cinnamon and nutmeg. She was the most beautiful creature that ever walked the earth, and I knew that she had to be mine.

  So, I courted her. I sought her out, and lavished her with gifts. I gave her the finest horses that ran across the western plains. I gave her a collection of jeweled scorpions, hunting eagles with wings as red as blood.

  And she refused every one.

  Of course, to a proud young man such as I this was just more fuel to the fire! How could I stand by and let my love walk out of my life so easily? I went hunting for ever richer and more dangerous things to impress her with. I brought her slaves. Some of them were the heroes of their own people, and she refused me. I ordered the best shipwrights amongst the people to craft for her a yacht made of white wood that would never fail or falter in the waves, and she refused me. I sought out jewels, and I sought out foods and spices that no other had ever found, and every time, I was refused.

  Sick with love, embarrassed and ashamed, I asked her what it wou
ld take to win her love, and she told me this one simple thing: to give it all up. To give up my pursuit of her because she was already promised to another. I had a rival for her affections, but she told me that she did not love this other man, and nor would she ever love him. It was an arranged marriage, between her and the richest of noble families amongst the Vor. Her parents and her suitors had promised them to each other since birth, knowing that their eventual alliance would make them the most powerful families of the world.

  What was I to do? What do you think a proud young man such as I, who had believed that he had everything, would do?

  I would not give her up, even if I had to bring down all three of our houses to do it!

  My love, she counseled me not to do it. She begged me not to in fact, but I would not listen to reason. I was mad with love, and I convinced her that I would find a way to win her family over. I would do so by becoming the most powerful man in our city.

  Ridiculous, my family advised me. Hopeless, my love told me. Pathetic, said my rival, another proud young man like me, whose name was Faal.

  You may be asking yourself of course, what all of this has to do with the ghost city of Telset? With the Shoggoth that raged against us above? Or what it has to do with these corpses around us?

  You see, the people of the Vor did not believe in past and future lives. Perhaps it was because we were born near the start of the world, there were fewer reasons to believe in an eternity of souls behind us and ahead of us. Neither did we believe in heaven and hell, in devils, imps, and spirits. Why should we? The world was good, and we were in control of most of it! What illness or disaster befell us was always short-lived, and we were always powerful enough to overcome it.

  No, we Vor believed in one thing: power. We believed that you lived, and that you must become as powerful as you can, and then you died and became dust. That is why we kept slaves and expanded our power over the Inner Sea. Each of us knew intrinsically that we only had one life, and one life alone. That is also why we buried our dead as we did. We sought to preserve their remains so that they might act as lessons for us all, so that we could go to the crypts of our towns and villages and be reminded of our mothers and fathers, or great heroes and leaders from the past.

  We did not know back then, that there was a cycle of souls, and that all of those who had died had either gone to heaven or would be recycling again, to be born and reborn until they were pure enough for the god’s judgments…

  I decided to seize more power than any Vor had ever dreamed of. I decided to offer the great families the ultimate power over death itself. I approached the family of my love, and told them that I would find the secret to immortality, and I would give it to the nobles of Vor in return for the hand of their daughter in marriage.

  Obviously, they thought me mad, and laughed at me…

  But I proved them wrong.

  It took me ten, long years. Ten years of searching the world for every scrap of information and lore about how one might cheat death. I was away from the southern coasts and my old allies, taking with me just what I needed to survive. I talked to shamans and witchdoctors, healers, scholars, priests and mystics. I went mad atop sacred mountains, chewing sacred herbs in order to gain insight. I nearly died several times, after drinking foul potions and concoctions deemed to create this elixir of eternal life.

  Still, my travels had not finished. I sought out the highest of clerics, and the worst of cultists. I stared at the entrails of pigs and birds, offering their sacrifices to whatever dark force would grant me the ultimate power over death.

  Eventually, my prayers and curses were answered, and I discovered that there was an ancient rite that would give me the answers that I sought. I took my knowledge back to the people of the coast, the people of Vor, and for all of my ten years of hard work, they greeted me like a beggar, and laughed at me. The family of Faal stole my research, my potions, my sacred stones and everything that I had worked so hard to achieve, and they threw me in the prisons of their family.

  That night, they would wed their son Faal to my love, and they would announce to the world their own ‘discovery’ of the secret of how to cheat death. They would do so through the form of Faal himself. By the time that he wed my love, he would be unstoppable. An avenging angel. Eternal, and undying.

  Faal took the potions, and he chanted the cursed chants, and he performed the ritual. And when it was over—he was changed. Forever.

  ***

  Faal was no longer the handsome young noble, my equal in every respect. He was now the creature above. The Shoggoth. He raged and he rampaged, demanding blood and sacrifices to quench his terrible hunger, and only violence could calm him. The family of Faal were distraught, and they sought to put an end to the monster that their son had become—only for the Shoggoth to defeat every sword and spear, poison and trap that they sent his way. He was unstoppable. He had broken the natural boundaries of life and death, and it seemed as though he would destroy us all.

  The people of the coast, the people of the Vor, were fearful and afraid of the creature that they were at the mercy of, forever supplying it with slaves and meat and sacrifices to keep it happy. In their dismay, they turned to the one person in all of Vor who might know how to help them—and it was me.

  I was brought out from the prisons, and I was tortured and questioned as to where I had found this arcane and forbidden knowledge, and how I might reverse the effects of the spell. Faal was indeed a creature that could cheat death, that was undying, that did not grow old nor ill—but to do so, he had also become an abomination. A true monster.

  So I told them. I performed the same rites, and ate the same sacred herbs and chanted the ancient chants to try and seek insight. What happened next was far stranger even than Faal’s transformation. I was offered insight, and I believed that it came from the gods, but it did not. It came from darker sources.

  I had reached out to the only creatures that would help, and something dark and evil reached back. I still to this day cannot say what it was my mind brushed in the darkness of the world. Was it really a demon? A devil? Or something else, so vastly strange and evil and hating every spark of life that it saw?

  The spirits counseled me to construct a vast city, here, on the Shattering Coasts. If we decided to do that, to throw our people at their mercy, then they would answer our prayers. All we had to do was to build a city to them, to welcome them into the world, and we would be free of the curse of the Shoggoth.

  So, we did. The Vor took to the Shattering Coast in their thousands, and we brought with us our tens of thousands of slaves to build the most perfect city that had ever stood. Telset was born, and started to raise its pillars and its halls to the heavens, just as we tunneled down into the rocks. We brought with us our dead, you see, and we interred them here—all around us.

  But it was not to be, of course. The city, designed by the architects of hell, was always a cursed place. Every stone that was laid had an accident or injury associated with it, a curse from some disgruntled worker, or a piece of blasphemy from their masters. Soon, in its construction there began the deaths. Slaves flattened under boulders, or falling from scaffolding for their blood to soak between the flagstones below.

  The city became our own poison. The Vor lost more and more slaves to its construction, until, in the end we started to use our own folk. Fights broke out between the noble families as some argued that we should never build it, and others that we had no choice. The Shoggoth kept on demanding the blood of our tributes, and no one amongst us could defeat it or trick it. The people were tearing themselves apart. The city of Telset became our graveyard.

  No sooner had the city been built, then it was abandoned. The Vor, my people, had been destroyed by it.

  27

  Vekal the Sin Eater shivered in the dark catacomb passageway, even though his skin was not cold. In fact, he had lost all feeling to his body a long time ago, as he had listened to the devil’s words in the back of his head, and imagined th
e scenes that they conjured.

  “So… you built Telset?” Vekal said, faintly amazed.

  “Not just I, of course. All of the Vor, and all of their slaves, under the direction of the most ancient evils that there ever had been.” Ikrit sounded strange, almost regretful or mournful.

  All around them, the bodies continued to sleep in their alcoves; many thousands upon thousands of skeletons in thin wraps of cloth. Vekal wondered if any of them had been the devil’s own mother, father, or the girl that he had loved. Any sound that the Shoggoth—who had once been called Faal, might be making far behind had long since vanished in their constant march. Vekal had no way of telling, but he was sure that they must have crossed leagues and leagues by now, and perhaps even walked on into morning.

  Does that mean that we have walked out from the city? he thought to himself. That we are safe?

  “But he is still here?” said the priest, nodding behind them as if Ikrit were not a disembodied spirit, but in fact a flesh and blood companion. “Faal, I mean. The ogre.”

  “It seems. I had thought, in my long millennia of hell that even Faal—the Shoggoth, I mean, had found a way to die, but apparently not. The first occupant of this city was the Shoggoth, was Faal himself—and I rather imagine now, that he will be its last too. Perhaps, at the very end of the world there will be no-one left but poor Faal, up there on his throne of blood and nothing else.”

  Vekal shivered once again at the thought. Even though the creature above had been truly monstrous, truly horrifying, and had almost killed him, he still did not think that any creature deserved that. To be the last thing alive, when all else had died.

  Only, it wouldn’t, would it? The cycle of life and unlife is endless, and as long as there are still devils and undying spirits who are damned, then there will also be a heaven to approach.