The Cult of Sutek

by Joshua P. Simon

  “Wodan is the god of my country, but I haven’t prayed to him in years. Probably why I was only tempted to say a prayer and not moved enough to actually utter one.”

  Andrasta tilted her head. “You don’t ever curse his name either.”

  “No. I curse all the gods because it isn’t just Wodan that I have no use for.”

  Andrasta laughed. “My thoughts as well. I don’t know if I can ever remember praying to the gods of Juntark. However, if the mood does strike me to pray, it will be after we make it through The Blood Forest.”

  Rondel rose to his feet and stared at the edge of white trees adorned in crimson leaves. “Good point.”

  “How are we going to get through?” asked Jahi. “I don’t have the strength to do half of what I did last time.” He paused. “I don’t think any of us do.”

  Rondel looked him over and saw how tired he was from his battle with Menetnashte. “Can you manage the occasional ball of fire with any accuracy? It doesn’t have to be large.”

  “I think so.”

  “Good.” He turned to Andrasta. “Can you throw a couple rocks into the trees?”

  She raised an eyebrow. “You really think it’s still there?”

  “I’d rather know for sure. Wouldn’t you?”

  The woman snatched up a few stones, walked closer to the trees and started humming them into the trees. On the third throw, a familiar sound shook Rondel’s bowels.

  “Ah, such a sweet voice.” His sarcasm choked down his fear as he walked toward the roar’s origination.

  “What was that?” Oni asked in a shaky voice.

  “Ammit,” said Jahi. “Yes, it’s real. As is every other nightmare you’ve heard about The Blood Forest.”

  “And we’re going in there?” asked Dendera.

  “No other option,” said Rondel.

  He bent down and removed a clay container from his pocket. He took out a small knife and shaved some of the clay off of one side of the container so it was weaker. Setting the container on the ground near the forest’s edge, he placed stone around three of the four sides of the container to help redirect the blast of the chemicals through the weakened part of it.

  He jogged back to the others, wincing with each step.

  Gods, this is going to be a hard journey out. His hands brushed up against his pockets. At least I still have that bit of food. Though it won’t go far between us.

  After he moved everyone into position, as far away from the container as possible, he gave Jahi the signal.

  A small flame formed in the boy’s hand. He took his time crafting it while taking aim. Everyone rolled into balls as far away from the container as possible.

  The howling blast sent dust and loose stone down from the mountain. The only sound louder than the explosion itself was the following cry of Ammit. No longer did it scream with frustration, but with agony.

  They stared out at the trees. The urilaudium and kilogen infused blast carved a blackened corridor into the woods. Fading thunder and snapping trees sounded as the fleeing Ammit crashed through the forest, wailing. Blood and bits of grayish flesh marked the trees to the left of the path caused by the explosion.

  “Too bad there isn’t a verse in your song about this.”

  Rondel looked over at Andrasta. She wore a small grin.

  Jahi cleared his throat. “How about ‘To fight the Ammit, one would have to be a fool. That is unless you’ve come prepared with the right tools?”

  Rondel snorted. “Needs some work. But it’s a good place to start.”

  “Well, how about—”

  “Later,” cut in Andrasta. She pointed to the forest floor where a few of the vines and splintered trees already began trying to reclaim the scar caused by the explosion. “We need to move.”

  They set out at a fast walk down the charred path.

  “Do we have enough of those clay containers to get us to the other side?” asked Oni.

  Rondel stared at the end of the path that he had created and frowned. He checked his pouches.

  Only four left.

  “Maybe,” said Rondel, hustling ahead of the others before someone asked him to explain.

  Chapter 20

  Jahi walked three steps out of The Blood Forest and collapsed. Dendera fell beside him. Oni and Nailah buried their heads in the grass, heaving for air. Rondel lay on his back, limbs splayed out as his chest rose and fell. Even Andrasta rested on all fours, sweat drenched hair falling over her face.

  “See. I…told you…we’d make it. No…problem,” huffed Rondel.

  Andrasta grunted.

  We’re alive.

  The journey through The Blood Forest had been arduous. They stopped only for water or to relieve themselves and even then both were done hurriedly. Rondel used every one of his clay containers, telling Jahi to ignite them only when they were in trouble.

  Despite, the initial damage inflicted on Ammit, the stubborn beast returned twice more before finally leaving them alone for good. They heard the laughter of the rackals only once. A blast of a clay container sent them running. They and every other creature in the forest outside of Ammit decided it wanted no part of their group.

  Still, they never stopped running. Or shuffling, by the end of it.

  Now that they had stopped, Jahi didn’t know if he’d ever get up.

  Hoof beats tickled his ears. He found the energy to rise, though much slower than he would have liked.

  By the time his feet got under him, a faint ball of fire rested in the palm of his hand. He kept it hidden behind his back. Andrasta stood out front with sword drawn. Rondel slid over beside her, doing his best to match the warrior’s stance and failing miserably due to obvious fatigue.

  Over a hundred horses galloped toward them.

  “What do we do?” asked Jahi.

  “Try not to look scared,” said Rondel.

  “We can’t possibly fight them all,” said Oni.

  “Just let me do the talking,” Rondel said. “I’ll figure something out.”

  Jahi heard the doubt in his voice.

  Dendera shouted. “That’s Captain Seker! Those are father’s men.”

  Before Jahi could stop her, Dendera found the energy to take off toward the horsemen. He and the others followed.

  Seker signaled a halt. He leaped from his mount, ran over, and took a knee before Jahi and Dendera. “My lord and lady. This is a great day. We saw the mountain explode yesterday.”

  Jahi winced, recalling the emotions they had all gone through when realizing those they left behind had blown the chemical stores in the cult’s headquarters.

  Seker continued. “We thought you were dead. This was our last pass around the mountain before returning to Girga.”

  His head remained bowed. Dendera touched his shoulder. “Gods, Captain, please stand up.” He did and Dendera hugged him. “It’s so good to see you.”

  Surprise shone brightly in the captain’s eyes. He didn’t know what to do or where to place his hands as Dendera squeezed him. He held his arms out like a bird spreading its wings.

  Jahi stepped closer. “How’s Father? He must have woken up in quite a rage to send so many of his men after us.”

  Seker’s face turned grave, his mouth a pronounced frown. “My lord, your father is dead. He died several days after you left. I came on my own accord. I’m sworn to protect the king of Girga. You are now him.”

  Jahi had known his father’s death was a possibility, but the news still struck him like a blow to the head.

  The captain continued to talk. Jahi knew this because he could see the man’s mouth moving. Yet, he heard nothing. Dendera stepped into his line of sight, tears streaking down her dirt-covered cheeks. She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his neck.

  Chapter 21

  Dendera rose slowly from the warm bath, letting the water drip down her frame. The cool air caused bumps to form on her skin, yet she was in no hurry to step from the tub. At least for the moment, she felt clean.<
br />
  They had returned to Girga three days ago. She slept long at night and spent the days napping, crying, and bathing. No matter how hard she tried, she felt as though she couldn’t quite wash away the dirt, grime, and blood.

  Especially, the blood.

  Aware once more of all that she had been through, she thought about calling for another tub of fresh water even hotter than the last which had left her skin red. She knew it would do no good. She was cleaner than she had been in months. Only time would wash away the blood.

  Dendera had been too caught up in their journey through the mountain labyrinth and subsequent race through the hellish Blood Forest for her to fully feel the depth of those who had given their lives so she and Oni could escape. She had known them briefly, but many she thought of as friends. The memory of their faces hovered before her at times. Tears often followed.

  I’ll never forget them. Nor their sacrifice.

  However, the news of her father’s death struck her hardest.

  I never got to make amends.

  She had sobbed uncontrollably that first night, lying next to Jahi like a frightened little girl. She smiled ironically at the fact that their roles had reversed. Dendera wondered if she had given Jahi as much comfort when their mother died as he was giving her. She knew their father’s death bothered him. Yet, he had not shed a tear where she could see and doubted he ever would.

  Her one solace during the ride back to Girga was that at Jahi’s command, Captain Seker left half his men behind to patrol the mountains and round up survivors, executing any cultists immediately while also returning any servants or girls who managed to escape to their homes. They received word yesterday that Jahi’s men had killed over thirty cultists and saved four women and five servants.

  Oni had returned to Akor with an escort. She promised to tell her father all that had happened. With Menetnashte dead and the cult eliminated, she also promised Jahi would not have to worry about a threat to his lands from Menetnashte’s successor.

  No longer father’s.

  Only one thing left to do.

  Dendera stepped out of the tub and threw on a robe. She walked to her wardrobe where a golden gown hung. It had been her mother’s once, and Jahi brought it to her earlier to try on.

  It fit perfectly.

  To think that I’ve grown so much since her death.

  Her brother wanted her to look her best as he was hosting a great dinner, combining a remembrance for their father, a celebration of their safe return home, and a memorial for those who gave their lives when escaping.

  Jahi hid his emotions well from most but she knew he was nervous. He returned to Girga a hero, with stories of his role in her rescue circulating quickly throughout the city.

  Thanks to Rondel.

  But soon the nobles will be looking to take advantage of Jahi.

  She had no doubt her brother could handle himself. People had a tendency to underestimate him because of his age. However, she would see that he didn’t struggle. He was all she had left and no matter what he asked of her, she would do.

  Even marry King Kafele. Something I should have done for father without complaint.

  She disrobed and began to slip on her dress for the evening. Dendera wanted to look at herself in the mirror one last time in her mother’s dress before calling in servants to help her get ready.

  * * *

  Rondel closed his eyes briefly and listened to the music as his favorite part approached. He winced when the lute player fumbled the chord progression in the second run through the chorus. Even though the woman recovered quickly, masking her error in a way that few could ever tell her mistake, Rondel still shook his head. He had never gotten tripped up in Hermast’s Fall.

  The performers did an admirable job with the music and he admired the vocalist for pitching his voice an octave higher than someone with his range could comfortably handle in order to simulate the female parts. However, the magic of the tale had lost its luster.

  He always had an ear for music, but it seemed that since his injury his level of critique had only increased, knowing that in his day he had been able to do so much better.

  He opened his eyes, pushing aside the longing to make the sweet melodies that had once defined him, remembering that the minstrel had died the day he lost his fingertips and the use of his voice.

  Maskini, the minor noble who had been once ignored by the rest of the powerful political figures in Iget found himself in a much different role.

  As I have too.

  “I can’t thank you enough,” whispered Maskini, “for saying what you did.”

  “Think nothing of it.”

  He had taken advantage of the enraptured audience when retelling the tale of the adventure to lift up the minor noble, emphasizing the importance of Maskini’s knowledge of urilaudium.

  Of course he fibbed about how many of the cult he and Andrasta had killed. It was only natural for him to take advantage of the opportunity to boost their burgeoning reputations.

  He also made sure to paint Jahi as a powerful young sorcerer and exaggerate the actions of Dendera in staging the revolt. The one thing he didn’t dare change was the heroics of the servants and young women who gave their lives so everyone else could escape.

  The wet eyes of all in attendance told him he hadn’t needed to embellish their efforts.

  I only wish I could do more. It moved him considerably every time he thought of what they sacrificed.

  “Even still,” said Maskini. “People are listening to me for once.”

  “Well, hopefully your standing will continue to improve in the courts.”

  Maskini frowned. “That’s doubtful. I wouldn’t be surprised that when the newness of your tale wears off, people will forget about my knowledge and remember only my lack of wealth.” He tugged at his worn shirt. “It’s a shame that to make a difference, money and the perception of knowledge goes further than having the knowledge itself.”

  Rondel grunted, catching movement from one of the dinner guests out of the corner of his eye. “Pardon me for being forward, but have you ever married?”

  Maskini’s face reddened in embarrassment. “No.”

  “What if I was to tell you there was an older, single woman with considerable wealth who also never married. And that this person would do anything and everything for the man who swept her off her feet?”

  Maskini caught sight of the flicker in Rondel’s eyes and turned toward it. “Jamila?”

  “Have you met her?”

  “I haven’t.”

  “Would you like to meet her?”

  “I don’t know. I—”

  “It’s not her appearance, is it?” asked Rondel with hesitance.

  “Oh, no. That sort of thing doesn’t bother me. It’s just that she’s considered to be a bit odd and she’s turned down every suitor who has tried to obtain her hand. What chance could I ever hope to have?”

  “Plenty. Others failed because I wasn’t the one making introductions on their behalf.” He grabbed Maskini by the arm and started walking. “Allow me.”

  * * *

  Andrasta watched the exchange between Rondel and Jamila.

  The large woman’s face became a wheel of emotion, turning from adoration to confusion, then anger, and finally understanding and joy. Rondel gave the woman a hug and left her speaking with the noble who looked remarkably nervous talking to the woman.

  The former minstrel wore a faint grin as he walked over.

  “What was that about?” asked Andrasta.

  “Doing a little matchmaking.”

  “Passing off your problems to someone else is more like it.”

  “No. I think they’ll be good for each other. Maskini will treat Jamila right. He’ll always be thankful for her giving him status among the rest of the nobility. And Jamila will be thrilled to spend her money on someone who actually appreciates her.”

  “You mean she wasn’t upset that you were breaking the promise you made?”


  “At first. But I explained that I was not worthy of her love. That my time in prison had changed me to the point that I worry I could never settle in one place. She deserves someone who wouldn’t keep her up at night waiting for him to return.”

  “And she believed you?”

  “Of course. I laid it on pretty thick. I’m just giving you the summarized version.”

  “Why bother telling her anything at all? We’re leaving the city tonight. You could have just left.”

  “The old me would have done that.” He paused with a shrug. “I guess the new me wanted to right some of my past wrongs. I never realized how my lies and actions affected others until now. She waited years for me.”

  Andrasta didn’t know what to say so she let the silence between them linger.

  The regret in Rondel’s voice gave her pause as she thought about how the decisions in her own past had affected those around her. None brought her the same level of guilt that Rondel held when speaking about Jamila.

  Because although they may have been selfish, they were also justified, she told herself.

  “Are you ready to leave?” Rondel asked.

  She raised an eyebrow. In truth, she had been ready to leave long ago. However, she hadn’t wanted to raise the issue, knowing she’d likely be going against some courtly protocol. “So soon?”

  He nodded. “I know you want to get back on the road. And honestly, I do too. I think what I told Jamila was true. Staying too long in one spot feels . . . uncomfortable.”

  Andrasta saw him eyeing the musicians, longing in his face. “Too many reminders of the past?”

  “In part.” He paused. “Besides, we have a mission to get back to.”

  She thought of the Jewel of Bashan. “We do.”

  “Then let’s say our goodbyes.”

  * * *

  Dendera stood next to her brother in the great hall, staring blankly at the attendees of her brother’s dinner. She had already met each of them once when they took turns offering condolences for her father’s death and congratulations for her and Jahi’s safe return. It was all customary, and after a while her responses had become mechanical to the point where she had to force herself not to utter them before the individual expressed their thoughts.