The Cult of Sutek

by Joshua P. Simon

  He dove behind the altar, pushing down Dendera and one of the girls as he did so, hoping the others got the message.

  An explosion that sounded like a hundred thunders rang out. His insides trembled from the force.

  The proximity of the blast brought down more stalactites. They crashed on impact, breaking into countless pieces. Rondel rolled to avoid falling rock. A piece of stone clipped him in the shoulder, numbing his arm. He swore, not only from the pain, but also from the sour taste of burning chemicals present in the air.

  He rose slowly, shaking his arm to get some feeling back.

  The ringing in his ears faded and anguished cries of men dying took their place. Squinting into the fog of dust that began to settle, he steeled himself for the worst. The altar chamber had already been a gruesome scene to behold with congealed blood and half-cooked human remains. However, freshly mutilated corpses of cultists added a new level of horror, some missing limbs or half a face.

  The less injured cultists rose, dazed.

  His group had fared better. None were dead, although the girls, wearing the least amount of clothing, bore a host of new scrapes and cuts. Jahi was helping his sister up when Rondel realized that Andrasta had been calling his name.

  Where is she?

  He saw her crouched, sword drawn and ready. Rondel followed her stare. Menetnashte’s bodyguard stood across from her. A massive sword, some four feet long with a blade wider than any he had ever seen rested in his relaxed right hand.

  “Andrasta! Let’s get up the tunnels before they recover,” he said.

  “I can take him,” she whispered back.

  “What?”

  “It won’t be like Fern.”

  “Fern? Did you get hit on the head? If we go now, we can make it up the tunnel before they recover.”

  As soon as the words left Rondel’s mouth, he knew they weren’t true. Around the bodyguard, the surviving fourteen cultists, gathered. A couple helped Menetnashte to his feet.

  Andrasta met his eyes. “Promise you will not interfere.”

  The request didn’t surprise him. “I promise.”

  “By the gods, I said kill them!” shouted a very angry Menetnashte.

  * * *

  “Get behind the altar,” Jahi yelled, pushing his sister into the other girls.

  The cultists swarmed forward like a group of angry ants. They passed the giant monolith of Nizam and climbed over rock and dead bodies. Menetnashte waited and watched.

  Andrasta and Rondel stepped into the path of the attackers, killing each of their first opponents quickly. However, the next several men came on strong and forced a retreat to keep them from being overwhelmed.

  With invisible hands, Jahi snatched up two stones by his feet and propelled them forward. Then two more. He singled out the cultists nearest Rondel and Andrasta. All four rocks found their marks with sickening crunches and dull thuds. The bodies dropped hard.

  Jahi almost smiled at his accuracy until he realized that his efforts had barely slowed down the others. He sent two more stones forward, helping Rondel and Andrasta one last time before several of the cultists came at him in a rush. His arm shot forward and streaking flames enveloped three men. They writhed and shrieked as they burned.

  Fresh smells of charred flesh and hair mingled with the residual odors present in the altar chamber.

  Fire once more leaped from Jahi’s hands toward a group of more hesitant cultists that had retreated near Menetnashte. The attackers raised arms in an effort to shield themselves.

  The fire ran into an invisible barrier, dissipating.

  The cultists exchanged glances.

  Jahi went into another spell, thinking he may have made a mistake on the last. An immense power pushed against him, hampering his efforts.

  “So Horus’s boy is blessed with talent.” High Priest Menetnashte walked forward, standing by Nizam rather than behind the bodyguard. “Let’s see how blessed.” He waved his men forward sharply. “Go!”

  The cultists rushed forward again. Jahi tried to fling stones at the men, but could not. Menetnashte blocked his efforts. He knew he should try to focus on battling the high priest, but the approaching swordsmen seemed like a much higher priority.

  He swore loudly in a phrase he had heard Andrasta use, bracing for death.

  * * *

  The altar chamber had become a mess, yet none of it held Dendera’s attention like her brother’s reaction to the mayhem.

  Jahi had always been smart, but he had also been timid. She never thought about that part of his personality much because he was her little brother, someone she looked after like her own child. Seeing him cast spells of earth and fire with both speed and confidence brought her a sense of pride that overwhelmed the brief sadness she had felt for seeing him grow up so quickly by taking lives.

  The way he’s taking the cultists out, Rondel and Andrasta only need to hold on for a few moments longer and Jahi will have eliminated everyone here.

  Then Jahi’s next attack faltered.

  She listened to Menetnashte speak and her certainty of victory collapsed. Jahi wavered on his feet.

  The attackers surged forward at the high priest’s command. Dendera panicked, hand searching for a weapon. It wrapped around a rock and in desperation she flung it forward. To her surprise, it struck the lead cultist in the temple, staggering him.

  Frantically, she groped for another rock, railing at herself for doing too little too late. I should have stood by his side.

  A high shrill rang out on her left.

  Nailah rushed past her and ran the staggered cultist through the side. Blood spurted from the wound as she withdrew her sword. A moment later she traded blows with another of the men. The four other girls came up beside Nailah and engaged the three remaining cultists.

  Without a word, Oni was at Dendera’s side, placing a stone in her hand. The princess swung her other arm forward. Oni’s stone struck a cultist in the shoulder. Dendera flung her rock and quickly picked up another. She hoped that if they could help Nailah and the other girls hold off the cultists, Jahi might find a way to defeat Menetnashte.

  * * *

  Andrasta’s sword swept out, severing her opponent’s arm at the elbow. She followed the attack with a thrust through the throat. The body tumbled into the other corpses at her feet. She was about to chance a quick look around the chamber to gauge Rondel and Jahi’s status when Nizam’s longsword swooped toward her as if the giant had materialized out of thin air.

  “Always assume your opponent is capable of the impossible. That they are inhuman. Better than the gods themselves. Then you will not be surprised by what they do.”

  Her master’s words echoed in her mind as she met the blow. The clashing blades sent a shiver down her arms and into her shoulders. Swords slid apart and the dance began.

  Nizam was not hesitant in his attacks, stepping into every one of his thrusts and slashes to maximize the power behind them. In any other fight, Andrasta would have used his tactics to her advantage to counter against the aggressive moves. However, Nizam never lost his balance, never stepped wrong. Even with what seemed like the most reckless of attacks, he always brought up his guard to protect against her strikes. Never falling for her feints, it was like the bodyguard knew where she would attack before she did.

  High screeching sounded to Andrasta’s right. She flicked her gaze in that direction and almost paid for it dearly as Nizam pressed. She ducked under the sweeping attack, brought her blade up to block the follow-up, and then slid to her left to avoid the third move in Nizam’s combination. The third move struck her hip. She managed to avoid the worst of the blow, but enough of Nizam’s blade tore through her armor, slicing flesh. She winced.

  “Weak.”

  Rage surged through her at her former master’s taunting voice.

  Nizam finally made his first mistake, overreaching when he sensed victory. Andrasta rolled away from the assault and sliced open his thigh. The bodyguard briefly looked down.
As Andrasta rose, he gave her the slightest of nods as if a sign of respect. Before she could consider how to respond, he jumped at her.

  She steeled herself against the assault, bobbing and weaving, parrying and countering. She tried several times to mount an offensive, but the sounds of other fighting began to weigh on her.

  “You cannot fight their battles, only your own.”

  She clenched her jaw. “You’re wrong.”

  Vocalizing her thoughts made Nizam pause for the briefest of moments. Andrasta shuffled backward and pushed through the pain in her hip as she hurdled three cultists she had killed earlier. She winced upon landing, despite taking the brunt of the impact on her good side. She ignored the pain in her hip and jumped to the top of a fallen stalactite to rapidly survey the rest of the chamber.

  Nizam came at her in a rush, trying to knock her off the stalactite. She dove from the rock before he struck, drawing the dagger strapped to her chest as she did so. She came up fast, intending to throw it at the High Priest after assessing the situation, but in the last second he had taken cover behind a stalagmite.

  She swore, running from Nizam to buy time. Each step sent lances of pain into her hip. The bodyguard stumbled afterward, limping because of his cut thigh. He closed on her quickly. Andrasta needed to make a decision on where to help, either Rondel or Jahi. With Menetnashte hidden, the choice seemed logical.

  Besides, I need to trust that Rondel can help Jahi afterward. I can’t do it all. Not while fighting Nizam.

  Her arm whipped forward, releasing the dagger just as Nizam’s sword whistled through the air.

  * * *

  Blood splashed across Rondel’s face, surprising him as he hadn’t struck his opponent. Nor had he been struck himself. A dagger protruded from the side of his opponent’s neck. The cultist dropped his sword, choking as his hand went up to a familiar looking hilt. Rondel thrust his blade into the man’s gut, just under the sternum. The cultist sank to the ground.

  Rondel’s breath came in ragged gasps. He had surprised himself with how well he had fought.

  It’s not over, fool.

  He looked up, taking in his surroundings as rapidly as possible. Andrasta fought Nizam in a flurry of blows that he could barely track. Watching the weapons twirl in the air, he wondered how the woman had found time to help him.

  Though he wished to return the favor, he remembered his promise.

  Which makes it even more curious why she risked herself to help me.

  Free from battling his opponent, he saw that he had not been alone in his struggles. Two girls fought against cultists while Dendera and Oni pelted them with stones. All worked to protect Jahi who kneeled on the chamber floor. The boy looked to be in immense pain.

  Menetnashte hid behind a large stalagmite with an arm extended outward toward Jahi, attacking him with some spell Rondel could not see.

  One of the two girls fighting the cultists screamed in anguish as a spout of blood erupted from the girl’s shoulder, where it met the neck.

  Rondel wanted to help the last girl standing but knew the smartest move was to take out Menetnashte. Guilt balled in his gut. Sound reasoning did not make the decision easier as he knew the girl would likely die.

  But I have to remove the most dangerous threat first.

  Rondel sprinted toward Menetnashte. He took only four steps before the high priest’s other hand darted out toward him. Rondel didn’t see what hit him, but he felt it. The impact threw him several feet. He landed hard on his back, striking his head.

  He wanted to swear, but with his head spinning, found he couldn’t quite remember words to fit the occasion. He rolled to his knees and then his feet. Somehow Jahi had found a bit of life and sat up.

  Menetnashte on the other hand looks worse than before. I guess he shouldn’t have wasted so much power on looking younger.

  A large rock thrown two-handed by Dendera struck the last surviving cultist a moment after he slashed into the exposed thigh of the remaining girl. The man’s head whipped back and he collapsed to the floor. The last girl, finished the cultist and, began hobbling toward Menetnashte, determined and grim.

  Gods, how did they even capture this one to begin with?

  Menetnashte’s hand lashed out at her. The girl struck the ground hard. Jahi rose to one knee. Recalling something Andrasta had mentioned when she and Jahi first fought, Rondel gritted his teeth and steadied himself.

  “Jahi! He’s getting tired. Fight it.” The boy shook his head, eyes clenched. “Think of Dendera! Do you want her to die here?”

  Jahi yelled while getting another leg under him.

  Good. But still not enough. I have a feeling this is going end up hurting a lot.

  Rondel rushed toward Menetnashte on wobbly legs. The high priest flicked his gaze toward him. His face looked remarkably older than it had earlier, and sweat slicked his brow. He struck out at Rondel again, and the former minstrel tumbled.

  A ball of fire flew across the chamber, but dissipated before hitting the high priest. Rondel half-crawled, half-walked toward Menetnashte while the priest and Jahi began to trade attacks of cumbled earth that zipped around like annoyed flies. Rondel’s heart raced in both fear an excitement being so close to the sorcery.

  The boy can do it. I just have to keep diverting Menetnashte’s attention.

  Menetnashte grunted under the weight of a fire ball. Jahi yelled in pain.

  Rondel propelled himself forward to close the distance between him and the high priest. He dove, sword extended. It bit into flesh just as a burst of orange light came from Jahi.

  He got caught at the edge of the attack and was thrown back a dozen feet. Everything hurt.

  But I’m not dead. Or burning. That has to be a good thing.

  Rondel opened his eyes to Oni kneeling over him, her mouth silently moving. The buzzing in his ears began to clear. Swords continued to clash in the background.

  “Are you all right?” he finally heard her ask.

  “Menetnashte?”

  She looked to the side. “Dead.”

  Rondel followed her movement and saw his sword in the priest’s side. Smoke flitted up from his clothing.

  “Jahi?”

  “Alive. But weak. Dendera is helping him.”

  Good.

  Rondel fought through his pain as Oni helped him sit up.

  Jahi leaned against the bloody altar while Dendera doted over him. He gave Rondel a small nod. The girl who had bravely fought against the cultists was busy wrapping her leg and other injuries with torn black cloth.

  All heads turned to the throat ripping cry that erupted. Rondel hadn’t noticed until then that the sound of fighting had ceased. Rondel freed his sword from the high priest and looked to the opposite side of the chamber while moving toward the scream.

  Andrasta had been backed up against the wall of the cavern. She held her sword close to her chest as Nizam pressed into her with all his weight.

  She yelled again, struggling against the larger man’s strength.

  “Help her!” cried Oni.

  “She told him not to,” reminded Jahi. “She would be upset if we interfered.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” said Dendera.

  Nizam’s blade inched closer to Andrasta’s face.

  “It is,” said Rondel. Promises or not, I’m not watching Andrasta die. Let her be mad at me.

  He took a step forward, but halted as soon as he began. Using the wall to support herself, Andrasta brought her knee up once, twice, three times into Nizam’s crotch.

  The bodyguard shuddered. Everything else happened so fast Rondel barely caught it all. One moment Andrasta’s knee was in Nizam’s groin, the next her blade slid from Nizam’s and sliced across the side of his head, severing an ear.

  He reeled back and Andrasta lunged, piercing the man’s side under the armpit. She withdrew the blade and slashed it across his stomach. Nizam dropped to his knees. Andrasta took off his head with one more swipe.

  She walked towa
rd them without pausing.

  Rondel remembered her comment about Fern. “You did it.”

  “I told you not to help me. No matter what,” she said. It was the first time Rondel truly saw the woman tired.

  “I didn’t do anything.”

  Her eyes flicked to the sword in his hand. “You were about to.”

  Rondel braced himself for a fist to the gut or at least a tongue lashing for being ready to go against her wishes.

  “Thank you,” she whispered as she passed him.

  Rondel’s eyes widened. He was about to say “you’re welcome,” but Andrasta was busy limping toward the tunnel that led up to the ledge encircling the chamber near the ceiling.

  The others were just ahead of her.

  Rondel hurried after them.

  * * *

  By the time they reached the stone platform overlooking the altar, other cultists had staggered into the chamber. Rondel briefly looked over the half wall.

  Panic dominated the cultists’ behavior.

  Their leader is dead.

  Rondel didn’t stick around to see what the cultists did next as thundering explosions sounded once more.

  Too tired to waste the energy, none of Rondel’s companions spoke while snaking up the tunnels out of the underground hell.

  It was midday when they reached daylight. Rondel used his good hand to shield his squinting eyes. Though the light was a nice welcome after the claustrophobic darkness below, the heat beating down on them did nothing to relieve their exhaustion.

  The climb down the mountain was painstakingly slow, even with Jahi’s steps available to them.

  Rondel was the last to reach the bottom, helped down by Andrasta. The girls were already drinking from the water seepage Jahi had shown them.

  He managed a smile after he and Andrasta took their turn at the water. “I’m tempted to say a prayer to the gods for actually smiling down on us for once. I thought the urilaudium explosions might have covered the water.”

  “What gods would you pray to?” asked Andrasta.

  Rondel frowned. That was a good question. Each culture had its own pantheon. And though many shared similarities, the god of Bratanic was remarkably different than any god in Iget. He hadn’t thought about his god in some time.