Wine God's Sorcery: The Horse Lords

by Diana Drakulich

  Koldun.

  The figure propped his staff against the yurt, pulled down his leggings and squatted.

  Brata heard liquid whizzing. He urinates like a woman.

  In less than a heartbeat Brata hit Koldun with the silent force of a charging auroch. Before the sorcerer even knew what hit him, his face was mashed into the dirt and a garrote twisted around his throat. His world went black.

  Thus you did to me in the Dark House. Only you let me linger, half-conscious so that I felt the agony of your blade slicing through my throat. Saw myself bleeding out.

  A stealthy blur in the darkness, Brata swiftly tied the ennerei’s hands and feet and stuffed a gag in his mouth. Hefting the unconscious man over a broad shoulder he carried him toward where his horse waited.

  A dog stuck its head out from under a kibitka and growled. That set off its mate. Before both dogs could start a cacophony of barking and arouse the camp, Brata reached into the pouch on his belt and tossed the grateful dogs a few pieces of meat.

  Upon reaching the corral where his black stallion, Pahvan waited, Brata dumped the now conscious, writhing priest on the ground. He put a bridle on the horse. No time for a saddle. After heaving Koldun over the horse’s broad back he vaulted on behind and set off at a canter.

  Time was of the essence. He had to get back to camp before sunrise. He halted the horse at the edge of a dry ravine, the secluded spot he had chosen for Koldun’s final moments. He dumped the Black Cloak ennerei off onto the ground.

  Uh! Koldun landed hard. He writhed, making muffled huffing noises through the gag. Grabbing the rope that bound the sorcerer’s legs, Brata dragged him down into the dry ravine, head bumping on rocks all the way.

  At the bottom he surveyed this creature. In the grey dawn light the frozen glitter of fear showed itself in the priest’s eyes.

  “What? You fear Death? You who slaughtered so many?” Brata spat in Koldun’s face.

  “Filthy strigoi. I spit on your vampir `god’ Ah-Gin. I piss on your black serpent Velesh.” Brata rasped in his hoarse damaged voice.

  Flipping Koldun over on his belly, he tied his hands and feet together so that the man’s body was pulled back into an extreme arch. With swift sure fingers he tied a slip knot around Koldun’s neck, then tied it to the rope connecting his hands and feet.

  It was an excruciating position. If Koldun relaxed his back the slip knot would tighten and he would choke himself.

  “Do not fear Koldun. I will not kill you. You will kill yourself.” Brata’s raw grating voice dripped venom. “Dirty Liar. You who claim to `speak with the gods’. You claim to know their will. Now you will face the spirits of those victims whose throats you slit. Men like noble Mattahn. And beautiful Ruzanna. Aye they and so many others await you Koldun.”

  He removed the cloth gag from the ennerei’s flushed, protesting face.

  “Hail Ah-Gin! Say it you slimy LEECH.” Brata kicked Koldun in the face with his booted foot. “Hail Ah-Gin! Say it - You degenerate worm!”

  Koldun’s swollen bloodied lips quivered - “The gods move slowly but they do not forget. You will die Sargis. Soon. Ah-Gin is not mocked. No one escapes the Dark House!”

  “And where is `Almighty Ah-Gin’ now eh? Will he not come to save his devoted slave?”

  “You think Ah-Gin does not exist? You are wrong. Ah-Gin comes into me when the pain strikes. When the blood flows. It is then I feel the god’s power. It flows through my veins. I am become invincible!“

  “How many did you slaughter - O Koldun `the invincible’?”

  The sorcerer remained silent.

  “Now you refuse to speak?” Brata pulled out his dagger, slid a slow thumb over the gleaming blade. “Remember the blade you used to cut my throat? This blade is dull. But it will serve to dig the eye out of your head. Slowy. Then the other eye. You will roam the Under World a bumbling blind man, just as you led your blind sheep to slaughter!” Brata’s broken voice ground like rocks cascading downhill. An unstoppable force.

  “I don’t know! I don’t know how many I sacrificed!”

  “The time has come for you to atone for your bloody sins O high priest.”

  “Ah-ah! You think I wanted this life? Listen to me – From my youth I was forced to sacrifice to the gods. I was raised to believe I was doing right. The gods demand blood! I did it to save our people from destruction!”

  Koldun was alternately choking, panting and sweating fiercely trying to retain the severe backbend Brata had tied him into.

  “Filthy liar!”

  “K-kk-kuk-KUK!” Koldun choked out. “In the night - I see them! Blood-smeared faces. Mouths moving. Silently screaming. But I hear the Black Serpents louder. They hiss in my head. The serpents own me. They command my will. I had no choice!”

  In answer Brata wedged the knifepoint against the inside corner of Koldun’s left eye. “Hah. A few nightmares. What is that? Now you will know real suffering.”

  “Ah-ah, Wait!” Koldun’s body was uncontrollably shivering and shuddering. “You think I have not suffered? Look between my legs - I have nothing. Nothing! No wife no children to carry on my name. They took it all from me. I am no man, only a gelding! ”

  “So you punished those victims who were real men because you have not?”

  “Why should they have it all? The joy of a woman’s embrace? The love of children? Let them become as I am in this life, shades to wander the streets and back alleys of Haides.”

  “Then your death will make no difference to you. Your time has come Koldun. You will be a blind shade wandering the halls of the Dark House forever.”

  “K-kuk-kkk-kuk - My people will find my body. They will track you down!” Koldun choked. “Those who resist the will of the gods are punished in this life and the next!”

  “Death has no sting for me. I died in the Dark House and Death spit me out again.”

  “Wait! I will go and sin no more. I will leave the priesthood. Have Mercy!”

  “Liar. I swore my throat would be the last one you ever cut Koldun. Your death has come for you.” Brata’s voice was raw, grating. An open wound. A bottomless crevasse.

  The blade pressed deeper into Koldun’s eye socket. The man screamed in agony. His body jumping, shaking against his bonds.

  “Kk-kkkuk-KUK” – The ennerei’s frantic struggling caused the slip knot to tighten around his neck, cutting the blood flow to his brain. He passed out.

  The Living God saved me Koldun. Now your master will drag your soul down to the snake pit from whence you came.

  Koldun’s tremors ceased. Brata wiped his knife on a green leaf and slid it back into its sheath. He had to return to camp before the horse sacrifice. He mounted the black and disappeared in a cloud of dust.

  The Black Cloaks would not find Koldun’s body until long after the horse sacrifice. But when they did, accusing fingers would immediately point at Brata. Everyone had heard him threaten Koldun at the war council. But he planned to be well away by then.

  As Brata rode toward camp a deep sigh escaped him. The simmering fury that had so long twisted his entrails was eased. At last he was free of the blood debt that weighed so heavily on his shoulders.

  If this world will not give me justice then I will take it for myself. For now he knew that a great hoax was being played on mankind. The ‘gods’ demand for human blood was all a ruse. A strategy to make rulers and priests all powerful by keeping the people in a state of terrified superstitious slavery.

  It was all a lie whispered into mens’ ears by demon vampirs who thrived on human misery, blood and death. Brata felt that his life had been saved for a reason. And today he had sent the elite of his world a powerful message – Someone does not believe your LIES anymore.

  Koldun’s death is not enough to avenge all those sacrificial victims, but I have set in motion the call for justice to be passed down through the generations. Until one day, The People will see a great light…

  Rest easy now Mattahn…Ruzanna…justice has been done.<
br />
  Lying cuddled close in sleep, the little slave girl Anahit felt Yeva tremble and then moan -

  “Mattahn…” Yeva’s moan was faint as a breath of wind. A deep sigh escaped her lips. “Farewell Mattahn…”

  Chapter 43 – In the Dark House

  With my prayers and invocations

  I called upon the…Dead.

  I seized the victims and

  Cut their throats over the trench.

  The dark blood flowed.

  The souls of the Dead

  Came flocking upwards

  …With unearthly cries

  They crowded about the trench

  Until pale terror began to master me -

  Homer, The Odyssey 850 BC

  Lying alone in her yurt, Queen Toxaris slept. And as she slept she dreamed -

  ***

  She found herself walking…walking down a long dark passageway with doors on either side. The Dark House. As she passed an open doorway to the left her brain registered a movement, a pale, barely perceptible flicker. What was that?

  A frozen arrow of fear struck her heart. She had already passed the door. Don’t look back. Just keep on walking.

  Dread slashed her soul but she had to see what it was. Turning back, she peered through the open door - into the dark space beyond.

  A tall figure leaned against a pale wall.

  Brata?!

  He smiled. She heard the echo of his silent laughter. And for one silver shining moment she felt the pure essence of Him. And she rejoiced.

  Then He was gone. The stunning realization hit hard. Brata is no more. He came back to say goodbye.

  And from the depths of her soul she grieved.

  ***

  Moving on cat’s feet through the darkness, Brata strode toward Toxaris’ yurt. Sprawled outside, heads resting on spears, Marat and Spartak guarded the entrance. The men roused upon sensing his approach.

  Toxaris had given orders that Brata be admitted and he was waved through. Inside, the dark yurt was lit only by a tiny oil lamp. He saw the fleece-covered pallet where the Neuri queen lay. Sensing his presence she immediately awoke.

  “Oh Brata, thank Jivan. I feared for you.”

  She reached out to him. Touched his thigh as he stood looking down at her. The happiness, her relief at seeing him clear in her voice.

  Brata remained motionless. His glittering eyes surveyed her form in grave silence. At that moment she understood.

  “You did it.” You killed Koldun.

  His answering silence spoke louder than words.

  She had begged Brata not to take vengeance upon himself. But there was no stopping him. She wisely refrained from questioning him about Koldun. Nor would she speak of her ominous dream. To do so would only create a dark pall over their remaining time together.

  Thank Jivan I have you for one more night.

  A silent shadow, Brata stripped and dropped to his knees beside her. Placing a forearm on either side of Toxaris’ face, he caged her. Lying partly over her breast he pressed his lips over hers in a deep, soul-stealing kiss, then gave her a delicious squeeze - Uh!

  “You saw Sava?” She stared into his glimmering eyes, seeing so much more than words could convey. Her arms held him with an anxious desperation as if she would never let him go. How short is life. How precious!

  “Aye.” He croaked in his rasping whisper. “We - blood brothers now.”

  “And he suspects nothing?”

  Brata shook his head. “He wants me to go to Neuria with you.”

  “Oh Brata, I have thought much on our future together. I have a plan.”

  “Another plan?” He rasped with a sardonic smile, lips nuzzling, blowing warm air in her ear.

  “I know that you are worried about our custom of King for a Year and a Day.”

  As I should be. Brata ran his forefinger demonstratively across his throat.

  “But we need not marry. You will serve as my Royal Consort.”

  She felt his silent bark of laughter and `heard’ his thoughts –

  I will eh? So you are serious about making me your sex slave? And what if your `slave’ gets you with child?

  “Nay, that will not happen. We Vukari watch the phases of the moon. I know when my fertile time is. And if you do get me with child, I will abdicate to my younger sister. Let Chaka rule Neuria in my stead.”

  She felt his penetrating gaze in the darkness.

  You would do that for me? You would give up your throne? For the first time Brata felt a spark of hope for a real future with Toxaris. Gathering her in his arms he took her mouth, thrusting his thick tongue in deep for a swirling, mind-bending kiss.

  “Ahhh, hmmm… You are my breath of life Brata. After the war with Persia is over I plan to abdicate regardless. Then if it is your wish, we can marry. You will be adopted into my tribe with all rights.”

  What about my blood debt to Sava? And what about your children? What about the succession? He mind-spoke to her.

  “If it is your desire to live near Sava, I am willing to live in Sauromatia with you. My children will go with us, unless they wish to stay in Neuria. My daughters will still have first right of succession after my sister.”

  Fierce devotion surged through Brata’s blood - Even without a throne you will always be My Queen.

  “Ah... My Brata. My Adoni”. She sucked his tongue avidly. “I have lived a terrible lie. Even though we Neuri say we are against blood sacrifice, still we do it. The king dies so that the queen may rule. That is still blood sacrifice. I don’t care how it is rationalized. I have condoned a great injustice. God help me! In my dreams I see the faces of my dead husbands, noble kings all. Murdered in the prime of life. Now Jivan has brought you to me…I will do anything to protect you Brata. Even give my own life for you.”

  Looking up, Toxaris saw that Brata’s eyes were heavy lidded. Behind those lids gleamed points of molten fire. Spreading her thighs with his knee, he palmed the broad head of his fierce arousal rubbing it over her hot wet folds.

  Ahhh. Hmmmh…So good. They both groaned. Hips undulating, rocking with mindless abandon.

  Releasing a throaty groan Brata ground his throbbing arousal over Toxaris’ sweet spot, sending waves of pleasure coursing through her writhing body.

  “Your Slave is ready to service you now…My Queen.” He rasped into her silken ear.

  At the first paling of dawn Sava rose and stepped outside, still under the watchful eyes of the guards. As the glowing red crescent began its rise, memories, images of the golden stallion ran through his mind. He found himself hating his own people for their simple-minded, blind following of these ennarei butchers.

  That is all they are – Butchers.

  And most of all he hated Zoltan. For the first time Sava felt the full force of Sarpedon’s curse on the high sorcerer. Sava doubled the curse with his own fury. As he watched the rising red crack of dawn, a seething hatred fired his heart.

  Even if I have to die to do it, I vow to wipe that sick smirk off Zoltan’s ugly face. Forever.

  He put all the force of his will into the golden stallion - Fight Zlatna - Fight!

  Moments before sunrise, a great crowd had gathered in front of the massive earthen kurgan. Piled against the back of the barrow was a huge pile of sticks. The flames of the funeral pyre would carry the spirits of the dead horses up to the heavens, swift messengers to the God of War. On top of the kurgan a great iron sword was imbedded in a massive flat rock.

  Wearing his black crow headdress, face painted half white half black, Zoltan strode onto the flat ritual area on top of the kurgan. Lifting a curling white ram’s horn to his lips, he blew three deep, haunting calls. The vast sonorous buzzing of voices fell silent.

  The high sorcerer shook his seed-filled serpent staff - Hsssst. “The auspicious moment has arrived! Begin the invocation to The God. Let the sacrifices begin!”

  The black-robed ennarei began the death chant:

  Ah-Gin hear our cry –

  Noth
ing is ours

  All is YOURS!

  The crowd chanted the refrain –

  Ah–Gin, Ah–Gin, Ah-Gin!

  Nothing is ours

  All is YOURS!

  Chapter 44 – Horse Sacrifice

  Their lofty heads marked

  With the sword

  The cattle fell under the stroke

  The virgin, catching the blood in bowls,

  Makes first libation

  She offers the yet living entrails

  Nor delays to set the devouring fire

  When Tiresias heard the branches

  Crackling in the flames

  And the grim piles roaring,

  The burning heat

  Surging before his face

  And the fiery vapor

  Fills the hollows of his eyes

  The flames cowered at his voice:

  `Throw open the silent places

  And the empty void!

  Send forth the multitude

  That lurk in hollow night’! -

  Homer, The Odyssey c. 850 BC

  Searing hot, orange-red flames shot up from the sacrificial pyre spiraling toward the rising, burning, golden-red sun. Led by her owner, the first horse, a beautiful silver gray mare, came dancing light-footed down the aisle and up onto the massive earthen kurgan.

  The mare’s bridle was tooled and inlaid with gold, a wreath of colorful flowers hung around her neck. Her mane and tail were braided with gold and silver cords. This mare was her owner’s most treasured possession. She had produced several superior foals and was still in her prime. A fitting sacrifice.

  Her owner handed the bridle reins over to Xobash. The echoing ram’s horn sounded. The chant went up, ending in a great roar:

  Hail Ah-Gin! A-Gin! Ah-Gin!

  Nothing is ours!

  All is YOURS!

  At sight of the roaring leaping fire, the heat and smoke, the tense atmosphere, the white mare trembled. She pawed the earth. Her eyes widened, rolling up in her head, showing the whites. Jerking her head high, nostrils flaring, she emitted a deep warning snort followed by a terrified neigh. And instinctive scream for help.