Chapter 30: Sacrifices

Roban watched Rhabina. Her halo bright and annoying, but on the other hand it illuminated her figure in the dimly lit chamber. Roban liked her figure, he liked it a lot. Rhabina noticed her figure as well, maybe her reflection was visible in Roban’s lecherous grin. She shrieked and sat up, one arm covering her breasts and one hand flew between her thighs to hide her sex. Roban snorted.

“I’ve seen you before,” he pointed out.

“Where am I?” She asked ignoring his remark.

“This is the Underworld,” Balkhor answered. He was standing by the door guarded by two Vermurak.

Messaya picked up the white linen blanked and handed it Rhabina.

“Who are you?” Rhabina asked, taking the thin sheet and wrapped her body up in it.

“The man at the door is Balkhor, my brother, and I’m Messaya. We are the gods of the Underworld and the judges of the dead.”

Rhabina froze and stared at the women, her expression a mixture of awe and fear.

“I agree, it’s an impressive title,” Roban said and sat down on the stone bench close to her feet.

Her gaze shifted from Messaya to the two men guarding the entrance of the tomb. “Are they demons?” Rhabina asked and shivering she pulled her legs against her chest and clasped her knees.

“They are the Vermurak,” Roban said as at the same time Balkhor shouted, “Yes, they are, and they belong to Destruction,” and pointed at Roban.

Messaya stared at Roban too, and swiveling her head, Rhabina fixed her gaze on him as well. Roban shrugged and the two men in question did not offer an opinion.

“You’re darker too somehow. What happened?” Rhabina asked.

“The forces of light and darkness, good and evil, we are at war,” Balkhor answered instead of Roban, and stepped closer. “We rendered your judgement. You are a good, bright soul, and that’s why evil appears now even darker to you.”

Rhabina looked at Balkhor, he wore a pristine white cloak and gently smiled at her. Then her gaze returned to Roban, her eyes widened and she shivered.

“These demons, they belong to you?” Rhabina asked.

“Like I said, I named them Vermurak, but yes, they belong to me,” Roban replied.

“And why are you here? Did you die too and where is... ,” Rhabina asked but Balkhor interrupted before she could finish her last question.

“He and his demons came to conquer the Underworld. He is here to capture your soul, and force you into eternal servitude for the darkness. He wants to drag you back into the world of the living,” The god shouted.

Rhabina heard the shouted accusation of the god, but her eyes stayed focused on Roban.

“Well, I didn’t come here willingly. I’m still not sure what happened. Maybe I died, but a part of me strongly objects, so maybe I only partly died.” Roban shrugged. “But it’s true, I planned to conquer the Underworld and ordered the Vermurak to help with this task.” A smile appeared on his face before he continued. “And it’s definitely true that I want to drag you back into the world of the living. Athea asked me to and you know my little sister.” He finished smiling brightly, but maybe it looked darkly to the forces of light.

“Yes, we know Chaos!” Balkhor spat. “But you can’t force a human soul. She is free to choose her path, no one can force her. Maybe you should worry how YOU will be able to leave the Underworld. A human soul is still a part of your being, Destruction, and a human soul isn’t free to come or leave the Underworld. You’ll have to find a way, and a very long way it might be.”

“I’m in a hurry and I’ll find a way. People I care for and a war are waiting for me. So make your decision, Rhabina, I’ll leave soon,” Roban said.

“Roban!” Messaya reproached. “Rhabina can’t decide the path of her soul without the knowledge she needs for such a decision.”

Roban shrugged and Rhabina turned looking at the goddess. Balkhor smiled victoriously, which earned him a glare from Messaya.

“At first I should mention that I and Balkhor, my brother, the sanctimonious defender of light and goodness, sent the demon who murdered you,” Messaya stated glaring at her brother. “It wasn’t her prime objective, but you became a casualty of the war. A war fought between gods. Humans, just like demons and all kind of creatures, are our soldiers, fighting and dying in this war.” Messaya turned and looked at Rhabina intensively. “Forces of light and darkness fight on both sides of this war. It is not a war of darkness versus light or good against evil.”

“Liar!” Balkhor shouted. “Chaos started this war over a thousand years ago. The greatest forces of the light fell victim to her devious schemes even before a sword was drawn or a drop of blood was spilled.”

“Chaos is no creature of the darkness and she didn’t start this war. She came to end the war,” Messaya sighed wearily.

“Chaos is evil incarnate, and Destruction is her brother! Or do you want to pretend he isn’t a creature of the darkness either?” Balkhor sneered.

“Yes, Destruction is darkness and he is Chaos’ brother. Just like I’m darkness and you’re my brother. Am I evil, and does it make you evil too?” Messaya asked in return.

“The end of the world won’t come as a shower of rose petals. The murder of everything alive is evil!” Balkhor countered.

“And you’ll see Ghania smiling and holding his hand when it happens, and Ghania isn’t just a creature of the light, she is the light. Destruction is no force of the darkness, he is the darkness. There is no good or evil in their intentions!” Messaya answered grinding her teeth.

“Sounds like you have had this discussion before,” Roban remarked grinning. “But as I said, I’m in a hurry and have no time to waste on a philosophic debate,” he finished without smiling.

They acknowledged Roban’s input with hard stares and received cold indifference in return.

“Rhabina knows the world she left behind, but she doesn’t know what lies in front of her. Let me show her,” Balkhor asked.

Rhabina turned her eyes on Balkhor and Roban nodded in agreement. The god walked up to the door guarded by the Vermurak and opened it. The door no longer led to a dimly lit corridor, now it opened to a sunny meadow, seamed by a vivid forest and a warm sun shone from a clear blue sky. Rhabina jumped off the bench and ran through the door and everyone else followed her.

Iane clung tightly to the rider sitting in front of her. She wore a hooded cloak, so Iane only knew the rider was a woman. They were flying fast and the cool night air blew in her face and let her mane of white-blond, curly hair fly like a flag. She viewed Vernya’s’ gentle hills rushing beneath as the giant creature flew, leisurely flapping its wings, towards the western mountain chain.

Iane knew it was wrong. Her decisions tonight would lead to endless suffering, and it was her decision, no one could force her, no one outside her mind. Submission, Velantie, she never forced or demanded, she never fought and had freely given all her godly power to Iane. No one could force Iane to do anything she did not want to do, no one outside her mind, but she could not bear the desperation she felt inside her mind. Velantie’s fear and pain of losing her master was driving Iane insane. So she made an insane decision. Careless to all suffering the future might bring, she would do whatever needed to be done to bring Roban back into this world. Desperate and maybe insane, but Iane was sure it did not really matter. She was probably just one step ahead of Chaos. Iane laughed as they flew across the frontlines and descended to land within the Manthakin encampment.

They landed in a courtyard, surrounded by stonewalls with manned battlements, and at its western end was a cave entrance. They were waiting for them. A tall, young woman Iane had never seen before stood between her sister, Ayphera, and a big Black Panther. A group of strong looking Manthakin soldiers was waiting behind them. The one closest to Ayphera carried heavy leg irons and manacles. Iane dismounted the creature and stepped in front of the unknown woman. The woman smiled at her.

“I’m Kassja and I welcome you, Princess Iane. Let me assure you, you won’t regret following my invitation. You made a leap of faith that will be rewarded,” The woman said and hugged Iane kissing her cheek. Iane stood stiffly, but as Kassja’s warm, lean body pressed against hers she returned the hug and the kiss.

“There is so much we have to talk about, but it has to wait for a later time. We have much to do before the sunrise.” Kassja said and released her out of her embrace. She motioned to the soldiers. Six of the men picked up Roban’s body and lifted it to their shoulders. While this was going on, Ayphera went to Iane.

“Sister,” she greeted. “I see you wear your collar. “Finally I understand why you never wore mine. It is so much prettier,” she said and let her fingertips stroke over the words engraved in its surface.

Iane stared into her sister’s eyes but could not read in their sapphire-blue depth. So similar to her own eyes but windows to a mind that could not be more different.

Kassja led the procession, flanked by the Black Panther and Esthera. Iane and Ayphera followed side by side, and then the six soldiers carrying Roban’s body on their shoulders. The last was the man with the iron manacles. They entered the cave. Guardians armed with long spears and Iron cauldrons with burning piles of wood lined their way deeper into the cave. Their path was lit but the light did not reach the walls or the ceiling of the giant cave. Their procession stopped and Iane could see the throne of the Manthakin Empire fifty feet further into the cave. The advisers of the emperor were seated on richly decorated chairs, with high back rests, on both sides of the throne. Six old men with gaunt, weathered faces and less hair on their heads combined than a single one of them had in his youth. Less prestigious members of the court stood behind them, priests and priestesses, military officers and nobles from countries of the Empire. The emperor sat on his high throne. His body slumped, his head had fallen on his chest, his eyes were closed and his crown had dropped into his lap. It was close to midnight after a long fought battle and the imperial court was in full attendance, and awaiting their arrival.

Kassja left their group. She approached the throne, every step perfectly measured and regally poised. She did not wear a crown but she was more than mere royalty. The imperial court fell silent as she stood in front of the emperor.

“Emperor Dharkuntis, tonight will see the end of your journey. Tonight you will become a living god,” Kassja solemnly announced into the silence.

The slumped body on the throne wearily lifted his head and the emperor opened his eyes.

“What did you bring me?” He croaked and a tendril of drool oozed from the corner of his mouth.

“Everything,” She answered.

The search was frantic, they yelled their names and asked every one they came upon, but no one had seen them and their calls were not answered. Finally a group of people coming from Notabir, with needed supplies for the wounded, told them they had passed Athea and Jenaya as they left the western gate of the town. So they mounted their horses and galloped towards the western gate of Notabir. There they found them.

Jenaya knelt at Athea’s feet. Her chainmail shirt dropped by her side and her hands pulled apart the collar of her linen shirt, baring her chest. Athea held a dagger in her hand and Jenaya’s eyes were closed.

“Stop!” Hassika screamed and jumped off her horse. She wanted to run the last few yards towards Athea but her voice halted her.

“Come no further, Hassika. You can’t stop this. It has to happen, it’s the only way.”

It wasn’t the words that stopped Hassika. It was her voice. It wasn’t Athea’s clear, bell like voice, this voice was deeper, and sounded more like war drums.

“How may I address you,” Hassika asked and bowed her head.

“Athea, Eyna, Chaos or Matassaja, I don’t care. You can even call me ‘you prissy little cunt’, just don’t stand in my way,” Chaos answered and turned to look at Hassika. “This is war and people die in wars. Jenaya will die in this war to protect you and the ones standing behind you. I didn’t force her to sacrifice herself, she offered, she knows it has to be.”

“Why does she have to die?” Gillyn asked as she stepped closer.

“Her blood will open a gate to the Underworld, and we need my brother to return,” Chaos answered.

Gillyn grimaced as if in pain but nodded her acceptance.

“Are you really sure this myth will hold true?” Hassika asked pleadingly.

“As sure as Menja is Ghania’s vessel, the Goddess of Creation,” Chaos replied staring at Hassika.

Hassika turned away her face to avoid the gaze out of the black pools Athea’s eyes had become. She could not look into those eyes but still found words to talk.

“Chaos, if you all agree it is necessary to kill Jenaya, please use my dagger. Roban gave it to me, kind of,” she blushed, “And his blood is burned into its blade. If Jenaya has to die tonight it should be by this dagger.” Hassika drew the dagger, stepped closer and her eyes downcast, held it out on her palm.

Chaos took the dagger and watched its blade.

“Thank you, Hassika,” Jenaya whispered.

“Now step back,” Chaos ordered.

Hassika retreated towards the women she had come with, Gillyn, Sahein and Sinheyd. She wanted to pray, but her gods had come too close for her prayers to reach them.

She watched as Chaos forcefully thrust the dagger in Jenaya’s chest. Jenaya screamed but the scream died in her throat. No blood but dark mist poured from the wound in her chest. More and more darkness poured out of her chest and encompassed the body of the kneeling Jenaya. Before their eyes Jenaya vanished into dark mist, and then she was gone. On the ground lay the dagger and nothing else.

Chaos spun on her heels and glared at Hassika. “That was our last hope to free Roban ourselves. Now we have to rely on Deception!” Then her gaze fixed on Gillyn Canbierra. “I want every one of the clans able to hold a weapon here within the hour. We’ll attack the Ogusi camp tonight.”