“There, up ahead. My people are scalped and on pikes,” she said flatly. There was no terror in her voice, because Inlojem suspected there simply was no terror left in her. The old Vesh narrowed his eyes and peered through the thickening fog and snow to spy the narrow black body-sized shapes silhouetted by the distant path torches. Teftek’s young eyes could already tell that they were dead bodies
“I should have known. I should have known!” Teftek spat, angrily, his constitution starting to break.
“It may be nothing. Maybe they’re profligates who tried to defect from...“ Inlojem started.
“Nonsense!” Iquay corrected him. “My people are not savages.”
“Yes, they were,” a voice retorted from out of the steadily heavier snow-fall. They raised their weaponry and their eyes darted to and fro. Inlojem’s knife came to his ready; he recognized that voice and knew that it brought darkness. It was the voice of that foul Hagayalick who had broken Inlojem’s Temple and trampled over the ways of his home, under the guise of a shared allegiance. This voice belonged to Ilquast.
The face emerged. The narrow-jawed, young face of a Royal bred blood-lust-addicted fiend challenged the face of Inlojem through the thick tufts of snow that fell around them. Black and gold cloaks abounded as several other Hagayalicks surrounded the travelers and Ilquast himself, with modern projectile weaponry and wrinkled in brows that implied a sense of fatality. The stalking Hagayalick Necrologist moved around them in a pacing circle, sizing up his catch. His dark crimson eyes scanned each of their bodies from head to toe, catching the woman’s frame specifically in his focus.
“What have you done to her people, Ilquast?” Inlojem asked.
“I’ve sacrificed them, that much should be apparent. We’ll do much the same to the four of you. One at a time, in procession, in order to show Ihio our love for him. There was mention, from those that were sacrificed down there, that there is even a portal to the Nothingness below this site…perhaps we can step into the Nothingness as well.” Ilquast explained.
Iquay spat at him and pulled her knife out, about to engage Ilquast, before Inlojem wrapped his burley arms around her, hearing the clicking of guns like excited Iju snakes behind him.
“It’s not worth it now!” Inlojem soothed her.
“That portal is our portal!” she screamed. “Why would you sacrifice those who are unwilling?! That is execution, not sacrifice!”
“Execution of heretics!” Ilquast replied. “Besides, there is nothing that you can do now except watch. I have a very special sacrifice to show you, Inlojem.”
The other three travelers looked at Inlojem with a mixture of fear and morbid curiosity in their eyes, as the guns of their captors prodded them up the rest of the path. As Iquay drew closer she recognized the eyes of many of her people, drooped, dead and widened, looking up to the sky. Inlojem sympathized with her, remembering the destruction that had befallen him and so many villages around him as the wars and conflicts between the Oolyay, the Uyor and the Hagayal ravaged the North. He always wondered why the Hagayalicks were so obsessed with putting people on pikes, so obsessed with forms of sadism and execution.
They moved through Terminus' gargantuan pyrix gate, an ominous Vesh-made arch with green burning torches on either side standing out of the unpolished pyrix cliffs on either side. Hung from the gate were clusters of skulls from those who had approached Terminus before the Hagayalicks had ever arrived. They were a warning for the faithless who dared to try overthrowing Terminus. Inlojem was, in this moment, impressed and angry with Ilquast for performing such a feat.
“How did you do it?” Inlojem asked Ilquast as they passed through the archway. “How did you take Terminus?”
“Air transports,” Ilquast replied.
“Air... the Hagayalicks don’t just have a hidden supply of air transports,” Teftek spat back.
“We killed your soldiers and took them from Qol while our masters invaded from the skies,” Ilquast replied. Teftek stared at him like a rabid Kyrun, madness taking over his eyes. Our masters, Teftek thought on the words that had come out of Ilquast- he actually believes those aliens are sent from The Void.
The pyrix cliff sides dissipated and the flat, carved ground of the pantheon arose, giving way to the grand city of Terminus; it was a symmetrical masterpiece that tore out of the jagged points of mountains around them. One huge Ulgayir jutted up in the middle of the city - a colossal ziggurat hewn from the pyrix itself. Flat stone and teeming gems were abundant and of the sort that Inlojem had never even seen. Hordes of Hagayalicks, dressed in robes and jeweled cloaks, were gathered in the middle of the city as Oolyayn Vesh dressed in tattered rags worked around them, under the constant guard of the Hagayalick warriors.
Inlojem’s eyes widened as he took in the incredible sight. They moved forward through the crowd until they were at the very front of it and standing at the base of the Ulgayir. Inlojem could almost feel its power as the dark clouds of night overhead lingered and blocked out the stars. A chattering of lightning and thunder could be heard from far off, deep within the recesses of far off mountains. Pink and violet blood flowed down the steps, and Oolyayn bodies lay piled at the base of it. The victims were mainly Necrologists and mostly males - the female Vesh having been relegated to slavery. Yet among the dead Necrologists, Iquay spotted the body of a female Vesh she'd known and loved intensely. She broke from their ranks and moved to the bodies, inspecting them with her hands. Grief overwhelmed her as she touched Vesh she knew and once loved.
“My…master,” she sputtered as she touched a very old hand of a lifeless, headless female Necrologist in front of her. Iquay sat down next to the bodies, consumed with sadness.
“And there is yours,” Ilquast snickered to Inlojem, directing his hand toward the top of the Ulgayir. Inlojem’s eyes followed the steps up to their terminus, and under the archway that stood at the very top of the stairway was an old giant, a hulking Necrologist in robes made from many Shades; Quantelenk. They looked into one another’s eyes for the last time, as Inlojem accepted what was about to transpire. A circular, body-sized axe raised about the ancient behemoth’s head, and then swept it away in one swift motion, sending it spiraling down the side of the temple. Then the body was pushed from the top of the temple and tumbled down the stairs to take its place at the base with the other Oolyayn bodies.
The little boy in Inlojem’s arms gripped his muscle and told him,
“Please…do not break. Please, not now.”
Inlojem lowered Iogi to stand on his own and walked away from the boy, leaving him next to Teftek. Inlojem felt his knees collapse and his body give way to gravity, slumping down next to Iquay to grieve. Teftek noticed some of the fatigues of the bodies piled at the base of the Ulgayir. Pilot uniforms from transport ships.
“I thought you said you killed those soldiers in Qol.” Teftek queried cautiously to Ilquast.
“Oh, there were more transports near here when we arrived. We’ve destroyed them all,” Ilquast noted casually.
“You... you destroyed the transports? The extra-atmospheric transports?”
“The non-believers are so anxious to leave, but this is THE END, My child!” Ilquast yelled triumphantly. Inlojem stood up, gripping the boy for leverage as he stood, his bones aching from their journey and his body weak.
“How pitiful, to hear you call him a child,” Inlojem sneered. “You are the child. You are a puny, selfish child, whose heart is only filled with hate. You make Vesh like him into disbelievers. You’ve even sucked the faith out of me. You are a welt on the face of your religion and a thorn in the side of mine. You are an ill-fitting cloak that is tainted by disease, and you have worn down your host until there is barely anything left of him…and yet, to you, this is victory. The ascension of pain and agony over the joy of life is your eternal calling. Every Vesh outside of our faiths believes the Oolyay to be brutal and unforgiving and, yet, the only unprovoked brutality I have seen in this world has come at the fingertips of the
Fio Rij Hagayal. How much longer will your disease plague our land? If this is the end, then I am glad for it, that I never have to look upon you again.”
Ilquast struck Inlojem with the back of his hand so hard that the old Necrologist faltered backward. Iogi had to struggle to keep the old warrior from falling. Ilquast neared Inlojem as the old Vesh breathed heavily, his rigid body flooded with exhaustion.
“How does it feel, old Necrologist, to be at the mercy of a child?” Ilquast grabbed Inlojem’s throat and put a knife to it, his teeth gritting with anticipation. Then he laughed and slid the straight-blade back into its holster. “Which one of you would like to be the first to be sacrificed?” Ilquast asked, facing directly toward Inlojem.
“I’ll do it,” Teftek answered, stepping out in front of Ilquast. “You seem to think we’re such cowards. I’ll show you that we can face death.”
* * *
The Oolyayns were being kept in a hole in the ground, normally used for livestock; just deep enough that one could not climb out, with smooth stone sides. Inlojem and Iogi were brought to the rope ladder that led into the pit and then forced down into it. Iquay stayed with Teftek as the two were guided toward the temple.
“So, this is it? You’re just going to throw me up on the chopping block and be done with it?” Teftek asked Ilquast.
“Not quite,” Ilquast responded calmly. “We will give you a last meal…a feast, really... and time to prepare.”
“How pleasant,” Teftek remarked to Iquay.
“Yes, it is, in fact,” Ilquast retorted. “We could just execute you, but you have taken the honor of sacrifice, which means that we will give you feast, wine and pleasures of the skin.”
“Pleasures of the skin,” Iquay repeated with disdain. Ilquast turned to her and grabbed her by her hair, as one of his Hagayalicks held her back.
“Something you’ll soon learn to appreciate,” Ilquast sneered. She seized his cheek in her teeth and ripped the skin off the bone, sending him shrieking backward as he pried himself off of her death grip. She felt a swift blow to her stomach, which forced the piece of flesh out of her mouth onto the ground and dropped her to her knees. They lifted canes and fists to beat her, but Teftek placed himself in front of the angry Hagayalicks.
“Don’t, please don’t hurt her,” he pleaded, waving his arms at Ilquast, who held his bleeding cheek with fury pumping through his hand in the manifestation of his own blood.
“Get out of the way, blasphemer!” Ilquast yelled.
“I choose her as my mistress. Please, as long as I’m alive, just let me have her. It’s all that I ask,” Teftek stated, recognizing how seriously the Hagayalicks took last wishes. When Ilquast looked with anger at his confederates they glared back at him, expectant. He sighed.
“You wait until he’s dead, little whore. I will strip the life off your bones one bite at a time,” Ilquast growled, his right cheek vacant from his face, oozing blood all over his body. He whipped around and stormed off.
The other confederates brought Iquay and Teftek to a small, cozy room with a well decorated dining table and several dishes of food prepared ahead of time. Some of the dishes had already been picked clean, and as Teftek entered the room, Oolyayn servants were shoved into the room and forced to replace the dishes with new meals. The meals were all of a Northern variety; seasoned Urio and fresh Kinterquoth with olsjet yams and trensolim sauces.
Suddenly there were no Hagayalicks in the room; everything was strikingly silent. There were a couple of eating utensils which they had left for the pair, but it was clear that they did not consider either of them enough of a threat to remove them.
“Listen to me, Teftek, we have to act quickly...“ Iquay started.
“No, we don’t.” Teftek stated calmly.
“Teftek! We need to devise a plan, we...“ Iquay persisted
“Just sit down and eat some dinner with me,” Teftek broke in. Iquay stared at him, amazed.
“What happened to the brutally efficient military commander? What happened to the Teftek that saved my life not one day ago?” Iquay protested. Teftek pulled a leg off the baked Urio and as he was about to bite into it when he suddenly dropped it on the plate, and everything caught up to him.
All the sadness of his life. The torment that he, a nonbeliever had felt from the day his father had been executed and thrown from a cliff-side to the day he had watched that poor farmhand die by his blade because she had tried to hand him a flower, it all rushed into him. He saw the eyes of every victim, his own and others, and he saw the terror of every battle and every war he had fought. He felt the pain of his people, of four arduous, brutal world wars that had ravaged the surface of his planet and left a path of destruction and agony for generations to come.
Most of all, he felt the true, bitter irony. He had signed up, he had believed the narrative of change, of control. He had believed that he could help control this world and turn it into a place where peace reigned and foolish sacrificial religions were myths of the past. He had watched the news channels declare peace, seen the old leaders of the past consent to the rule of the Uyor Sevoign. He had helped more rational minds prevail. Even if it had meant the deaths of so many, and maybe the death of his own soul and body, he had fought every waking moment of his adult life to bring about a world that was peaceful and modern. And just as they had claimed the throne of power…the world decided to end.
He put down the baked Urio leg and stared at the table. He put his head in his hands and wept. The world and its concerns went away and Teftek cried in peace, with Iquay's warm hand on his neck, a Vesh he could have come to love and respect if there had only been more time. If only the transports hadn’t been destroyed…and he cried for that too. Everything was forsaken now, all his dreams were dead, and the only thing he had to live for was the passage of time, the forestalling of a certain execution for those who he considered his last obligations.
As he cried, he knew that was true; that he still had three remaining obligations. The tears wore off as his sense of duty returned to him. In his hand, a bottle of Ytiri herb appeared from Iquay’s satchel, and she closed his hand around it.
“You’ll need this now,” she confided, and wiped away the stinging tears along his black striped face.
* * *
Inlojem and Iogi sat on small stone benches in the holding pit where the rest of the Oolyayns that had not yet been sacrificed awaited their fate. The Necrologists were all gone - piled headless at the base of the Ulgayir - but some of the villagers that the Hagayalicks had found a use for were put here. The night was moonless, leaving Inlojem without any hint of time. Eventually the ladder rolled down and Iquay crawled down into the pit. She walked directly over to Inlojem and sat next to him, speaking quietly.
“There is a place underground here which has a portal of great power. The Master Necrologists were gathering food for us to step through it. It’s all been set up, we just need to get to it,” Iquay informed Inlojem. The old Necrologist’s eyes lit up, but he didn't dare glance at her, lest he give away his intentions.
“That’s where the Red people are,” a voice whispered from behind them. They turned to see Iogi listening in on them. “When we go through the portal, we’ll be one with the Red People.”
“Who are these…Red People, Iogi?” Inlojem asked, cautiously revealing his sense of curiosity to the child.
“We don’t have time. I believe you, Iogi, but we don’t have time. It’s going to happen soon!” Iquay stammered. “Listen, Teftek is going to cause a distraction, I will fight off the Hagayalicks. You must get to the portal.”
“You should take the child,” Inlojem said.
“No! It has to be you!” Iogi demanded. “You are the death priest!”
“I am too old-“
“Inlojem listen to the child. We are the same,” Iquay avowed, gripping his shoulders. He stared at her, shaken out of his defeat. He was astonished to feel fear and importance simultaneously invading his soul. The ladder droppe
d down and their attention shifted to the Hagayalicks standing at the precipice.
“You three, come out of the pit. The Stranger has requested that you witness the death of your heathen compatriot,” boasted one of the Hagayalick Necrologists. Inlojem, Iogi and Iquay obeyed and climbed up the ladder, walking with the Hagayalick escort to the acropolis. Inlojem glanced around, looking for Ilquast. He was surprised that his hubris hadn’t prompted him to make a public appearance for this Vesh’s execution. The Oolyayns were pressed in on either side by Hagayalick warriors and Necrologists armed and ready to kill an innocent whenever a chance presented itself.
The Hagayalicks always hide behind armor, thought Inlojem as he glanced at his own people, skittering about in chains and in rags. He noticed that the herbs he had given Iquay were no longer hanging from her belt.
“Did they take those from you?” He whispered to her, nodding to her belt.
“No,” she replied. “I gave them to Teftek.”
“Why?” he asked.
“They will give him the will to fight,” she explained.
Teftek stood at the top of the Ulgayir, looking down onto the enslaved Oolyayns, who were crowded into efficient little rows between the hundreds of Hagayalicks. The wine and the herbs had culminated and the world swayed with Teftek. The chants and shrieks of hundreds of Vesh, in joy or turmoil, seemed like air that bubbled up through thick and viscous water.
The Necrologist who would sacrifice Teftek looked at him expectantly and commanded,
“Address them. You have your last words.” Teftek smiled slightly and stumbled, catching himself on his executioner’s shoulder. He chuckled wildly at the skinny Necrologist, whose striking orange eyes looked beautiful in Teftek’s altered vision of reality. He stared into the Necrologist’s eyes, oozing as much discomfort out of the Hagayalick as he could, until he threw his head toward the crowd.
He listened to them, listened to this last moment. This moment that would be his death and he knew that he had no more strength. He knew that this was where it all ended, regardless of what Iquay had said to him. Regardless of his duties, this was his end. He couldn’t even think of anything to say.
The Reward of The Oolyay Page 7
