Back in our cell we received a surprise. We had four new cellmates, and one of them was Javen. My face must have lit up when I saw him, for he smiled that insufferable, knowing smile, the one indicating he was aware of my attraction to him.
The others with him I did not know. All three were males in their twenties, and none was a Sakita or Raab. Javen walked up to our group and stood, waiting for introductions. I obliged, noticing Lillatta and Izzy were not immune to his pleasing appearance and appealing tongue. We four found an adequate spot near the airflow of a vent and began discussing recent events.
“I saw you on the platform taking down the man-mountain Brum and battling the Creet,” Javen began, and there was a grudging respect in his tone. “You did not tell me you were that Sanyel, the one who can actually handle a spear and rik-ta.”
“That Sanyel is the only one there is,” I informed him. “I had to use the weapons myself, of course, as there was no man around to do it for me.”
“Your tongue bites as sharp as teeth,” Javen responded with good humor, “but I assure you, I would have been glad to show you the proper use of the weapons had I been nearer.”
Lillatta and Izzy were listening to this exchange with bemusement, but then caught on to its playful undertones. I turned to Izzy.
“Do you see how I fillet him like a fish with my wit, and then he tries to come back at me with weak retorts?”
“I do, indeed. It is almost as though he does not understand the futility of trying to compete with your superior mind. Sad, really.”
Javen laughed, but he had a few jabs left.
“We Raab have always known the Sakita to be superior only at fleeing our spears, and as hunters proficient only at tracking down wettle fruit.”
“Sanyel is part Raab,” Lillatta chimed in.
“Is that so?” Javen showed genuine surprise and then said, “Which part would that be?”
“Well, obviously not the part of intelligence, common sense, or any ability beyond drooling or grunting,” I stated.
Everyone laughed, including Javen.
As we shared a drink from a water skin the guards had left us, I thought about poor Brilna waiting for Izzy to return, and hoped she was smart enough to not wait too long to free herself of this place. Izzy told me they had hidden their drooves in a kanser grove down by the river, so I was grateful Brilna at least had that avenue of escape.
As for us, we still had no clue to our ultimate fate. The newcomers said they believed the Spood chose us for some special purpose. Each of them had been slaves taking part in yesterday’s initiation, and each of them had relished the revolt that had spontaneously erupted. They admitted to actively attacking Creet soldiers.
Javen surmised that our particularly brazen defiance of Spood authority had singled us out from the others. He had heard of special occasions where a select group became sacrifices to Gor-jar without benefit of a grottis. It seemed the actual living god resided somewhere in the city and directly fed on human flesh provided through these distinctive offerings.
That astounded me. The idea that a living, flesh and blood god, might be here in the city was hard to accept. It was bad enough to have to endure an agonizing, slow death on a wooden reproduction of the ravenous deity. Would the “honor” of meeting him in person, only to have your flesh eaten for the privilege, be a better choice? Not to me.
Javen was also able to clear up the story behind the Spood obsession with what they called “the Disrupter and the Blades of Sorrow.” He informed us that the Spood had a written language, and on an old parchment was detailed a prophecy about a trio of men (assumed by the Spood to be men, though not actually stated as such) who would one day arrive to cause havoc among the Spood population. The very survival of the Spood would be in jeopardy, and the tide would turn only when Gor-jar decided which side to favor. The prophecy did not say which side that would be.
The Spood interpreted the words to mean that Gor-jar was amenable to persuasion. Thus, they instituted the endless sacrificial offerings to gain his favor.
A couple of other items mentioned on the parchment merited interest. One was that two, unnamed individuals, would assist the named three. The other was that the identity of the Disrupter would be revealed by the mark of a spear on the dreaded warrior’s palm.
Javen’s details clarified many things, but I was uncertain how seriously to take the information. The Blades of Sorrow took it very seriously and were looking rather pleased with themselves. The Disrupter ignored their preening, found a clean patch of straw, and settled down for a much-needed nap.
Guards arrived in the early afternoon to bring us somewhere new. They shackled all seven of us, then led us down a back street to a squat building and ushered us inside.
The interior of the building consisted of one large, square room with an expansive skylight made of sheek, that see-through material. The room was empty except for a hole in the middle of its stone floor and a group of people standing around the hole. Smerkas was there, along with his wife. He named the others as assorted dignitaries of Spood government and society.
We stood against a bare wall while Smerkas conducted a ceremony. As the high priest positioned himself before the opening in the floor, the other priests and dignitaries gathered around him, holding hands. Smerkas began to chant.
“Oh, Gor-jar, accept into your sacred jaws the offerings we present you this day. May you continue to bless us with your protection from the evil forces that would deny our rightful place as masters of the world. He, who is both of this world and the world of spirit, continue to guide us to make wise choices in your name. Shabla.”
“Shabla,” echoed the others.
I listened to the prayer and found it most enlightening, but not in a good way. I felt acceptance by Gor-jar’s sacred jaws was not for me, so I searched the room for an escape option. None materialized.
Smerkas felt it necessary to indulge in a speech. Why, I don’t know. I believe the high priest was one of the few who enjoyed hearing his grandiose voice.
“Gathered guests, let me welcome you to a most historic occasion. Standing before you (indicating the seven of us) are the slaves who wantonly killed our fellow citizens.”
A hostile grumbling emanated from the distinguished gathering.
Smerkas held up his hand.
“Now, I am aware that every one of you would wish to see these criminals executed on the grottis, and to be given a fair shot at throwing the first stone.”
The crowd responded with loud affirmation.
“But these are no ordinary sacrifices,” Smerkas asserted. “Let me correct myself. Three of these are no ordinary sacrifices.”
Smerkas paused for effect. When he judged the crowd could abide his silence no longer, he continued speaking.
“We have before us, honored guests, the three most notorious figures in the narratives of our people—the very three prophesied to one day bring our society to ruin. They are the three we have dreaded encountering for hundreds of years.”
A man in the audience, being equipped with a facile Spood mind, deduced the subject of Smerkas’ rambling.
“Are you saying that three of these men are the Disrupter and the Blades of Sorrow?” he asked.
Several in the crowd audibly gasped, only then realizing of whom Smerkas was speaking.
The high priest offered his grandest smile. He turned to point to the three shortest and most un-manlike of the desperate cutthroats standing before them before delivering his triumphant revelation.
“These are the Disrupter and the Blades of Sorrow.”
Silence. Then, a detonation of laughter.
Shocked by the reaction, Smerkas was quick to grasp the cause. They thought he was joking.
“No, it is not a jest, and I will prove it.” He grabbed my right arm and spun it over, exposing the infamous brand.
“Come, see for yourselves. It is the mark of the spear.”
The ass
embly eagerly stepped in closer to view and the reaction was immediate. There were outcries of disbelief and wonder, expressions of awe, fear, and doubt.
“How is this possible?” a scholarly man in rich attire questioned. “The prophecy parchments do not mention females, and I should know, for I have studied them with meticulous scrutiny for years.”
“Ah, my good friend Pentor. Is there any mention of males in the prophecy?” queried Smerkas.
Pentor seemed puzzled by the question and then his eyes broadened.
“It is true. Gender is not stated. I always thought it to be assumed, for who could believe females, young ones at that, would be chosen for such an undertaking. It is clever, very clever I must admit.”
If indeed so clever, I thought, then why were the three people they so openly feared about to meekly become the meal of a meat-eating, omnipotent being who might be living in a hole in the floor? I still had not formulated any viable escape strategy, and I knew time was not an ally, for Smerkas appeared about to wrap up this little get-together.
“Now, if you will all accompany me, we will descend to the gate and present our offering. Gor-jar will be most pleased.”
Creet soldiers urged us toward the gaping mouth at the floor’s center, pushing us before them while Smerkas followed along with the rest. The hole had been hiding a wide stone stairway that descended into blackness. I found myself out front, more from the others hanging back than from any inclination on my part to be the first eaten.
Strategically placed torches dimly illuminated the stairway, which was not steep. The stone was smooth and polished, unlike the rough stone of outdoors. The walls, as much as I could make out in the limited light, were also smooth but not made of stone. We followed the steps down for a short distance and then made a gradual right turn, with the steps again straightening before ending.
A wide, straight passageway lay before us. The lines of the corridor formed a perfect square. Izzy nudged me with excitement, indicating I should look upward. On the ceiling of the passageway, I saw evenly spaced, rounded, and slightly protruding bulges. Izzy whispered that they were the same objects she had come across in the cave, only those had emitted light.
After a short walk and a left turn, a gate emerged out of the gloom. It was massive and metal-barred. We waited as a nervous Creet soldier peered through the gate bars and then turned his head to listen. Satisfied, he grabbed and began turning a crank on a fascinating device. This creaking machine moved chains along a trough and over a circular metal plate studded with teeth, causing the door to lift inward towards us. Beyond the door was a continuation of the passageway, though it was now dark and no longer lit by torches.
The Creet guards could not hide their anxiety and several held their spears in readiness. Profuse sweat poured down their faces as their attentive eyes scoured the murkiness. With hurried purpose, they unlocked our chains, pushed us inside the dark corridor and then promptly lowered the gate behind us.
Smerkas had a few final words, spoken to the blackness.
“Gor-jar,” he called out. “We bring you these offerings. We pray they are to your satisfaction.”
From somewhere came a faint, distant cry. Smerkas blanched. He and his entourage made haste back down the corridor to the stairway that led up and away to safety.
The cry had me worried. We were now seven, unarmed potential meals, waiting for our guest diner to present himself. Gor-jar was considerably more intimidating now and no longer just a nebulous figure of idle conversation. Something lived down here. By all accounts, this something enjoyed an occasional repast of flesh and bone and blood. We were going to meet up eventually. Might as well be now.
“Who wants to come with me and meet a god?” I asked my companions. “We don’t know what we’re up against, so it’s best we find out.”
Izzy was thinking the same thing. Lillatta indicated a willingness to do whatever I wished. The others were not so agreeable.
“Are you insane?” one of the men protested. “We should stay here and try to lift this gate.”
“It doesn’t lift,” I stated. “It swings inward. And they locked it into place. I saw them do it, and the lock is out of reach.”
“I don’t care,” he said stubbornly. “I think it best we stay right here and try. If their god wants a meal, it won't be me. And you’re not in charge anyway.”
Javen took a menacing step toward the speaker. I touched his arm and he halted.
“It’s up to you,” I said to the man. “You can do what you want. I’m going.”
“I’m going, too,” said Izzy.
“Count me in,” added Lillatta.
Two others stated their preference to stay and work on the gate. Javen hesitated, but I knew what he would decide.
“I’m going with the women,” he told the other three. “Someone has to protect them.”
He turned to me with a sly wink. My eyes rolled in feigned disgust.
The three men tried at once to break the lock’s hold, using brute strength in an attempt to force the gate open. I shook my head. That strategy would get them only sore muscles and short tempers. At least they had the light from the torches on the far gate side to aid their work. Still, how long would it be before that fuel burned away?
The dark and unknown awaited. I started down the dim corridor and the others followed. The hallway wall was warm to the touch, which seemed surprising considering we were some distance below ground. I had thought it would be cool and damp. With no light to guide us, we had to follow the wall. I stepped with care, hoping the floor would remain solid and not drop away into some bottomless chasm.
The going was slow, but at least nothing else challenged our progress, and we heard no repeat of the cry from earlier. The only sounds were our breathing and the light scuffing of our feet along the floor. The corridor continued in a straight line for a stretch, and then made several turns before returning to straight. Once, I stumbled over something on the floor. Reaching down, I felt the unmistakable texture and form of a bone. Human or animal I did not know—or want to know.
We walked on in darkness for an unknown distance.
Then, we went blind.
It was as if the sun had suddenly appeared in the passageway. Everything was brilliant light. Numerous bulges on the ceiling ahead of us appeared engulfed in fire.
Lillatta shrieked and Javen cried out.
Izzy shouted, not with a cry of fear, but rather one of triumph.
“You see! This is what I told you about. It is just like in the cave!”
The sudden illumination had startled me, but when I heard Izzy, my natural curiosity came to the fore. So this was how the cave lights appeared when lit? I was a bit awestruck, as I had not imagined such luminous power from such devices. Some were missing, and by the jagged spaces left behind I could only surmise they had fallen to the floor, though I saw nothing on the floor to verify that. I wanted to touch one of the lights, but they were well out of reach above me. Lillatta, who had screamed when the lights came on, now peered at them with naked fear. Javen, unable to hide his anxiety, swept his eyes in all directions, no doubt trying to spy the perpetrator of this unholy magic.
Izzy was quick to calm their fears by relaying to them her cave experience, telling them that the ceiling fires were benign and no threat. Meanwhile, I became aware of two other corridors branching off our own to our left. They had been invisible to us in the pitch blackness. By following only the right edge of the main corridor, we would have missed them if not for the lights. I wondered how many other branches we had blindly passed.
The newly revealed hallways remained in darkness, their ceiling lights off. I ventured down each and quickly ran into blockages. Each corridor was impassable, filled with rocky debris several paces in. We resumed our progression down the lighted hallway. We were all aware of the now visible human bones scattered along the length of our passage. <
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Ahead of us, the corridor and the lights came to an abrupt end. At their termination point loomed a large black hole. A light air current touched us, carrying a vile stench from the direction of the opening. Our faces scrunched up and there was no escaping the smell. Rotting flesh. I knew the odor well, the repellent tang of putrefaction. Coming across animal carcasses in decay was common in our hunter’s culture. I wondered if that was what this was—or was it something I didn’t want to contemplate?
The maw beckoned. We had a choice to enter that black mouth at the end of the light or turn back. We could face the darkness or retrace our steps back to the others and the futility of trying to budge an immovable gate. The options were not encouraging.
“Let’s go,” I said without enthusiasm. No one voiced an objection.
At least there were no sounds emanating from the foul blackness, no cries or hisses or barks. I approached with caution, and at the hallway’s end peered into what seemed to be a room. The hallway lights shone into the room only a short distance, but enough to reveal a floor littered with broken pieces of stone and tile. I paused to listen. A steady hum emanated from somewhere but did not seem threatening—I stepped forward.
The dark exploded. A thousand small suns ignited on the high ceiling of a cavernous room. The walls were white, adding to the sheer power of the luminous effect. I flinched from the suddenness of the transition, but soon my eyes adjusted, my heartbeat slowed, and my breathing normalized. These abrupt jolts were unnerving, and I didn’t know how many more of these I could take.
With my eyes adjusted to the brightness, I surveyed what the light revealed. It was a room at least fifty paces wide and the same across, with a ceiling not much less in height. The room appeared empty, with the majority of its floor space to our right. The left wall was nearest to us, perhaps ten paces away. Along that wall, in the opposite corner of the room, was a shoulder high partition that formed a small cubicle with an open doorway. From where we entered the white room, I could see another black opening, an exit, directly across the room. Large chunks of the ceiling had fallen in, exposing the bedrock above it, with the debris scattered across the once polished stone floor. I also noticed the corridor lights behind us had gone dark when we exited the hallway.
Izzy, Lillatta, and Javen, after the initial shock had worn off, each moved in a separate direction and were now busy examining every corner of the room. I was curious about the light holders that had fallen along with the broken sections of ceiling. Many of the orbs inside these racks had cracked open from the falls and none emitted Ra-ta’s rays. One was intact and had separated from its receptacle. Its small size made it easy to hold within my palm, and when I picked it up, I was astonished it began to glow. Izzy was right. They were cool to the touch, as if no fire burned within. After dusting it off, I turned the orb in my hands, admiring its smooth skin and even features.
The foul odor of earlier had dissipated and this room did not appear to be its origin. The humming seemed to emanate from the right side of the room, but I could not pinpoint its source. I set down the light sphere, which, to my surprise, remained lit, and I walked over to the partition. Behind it sat a short table of considerable weight. Thick dust coated its surface. I recognized the object next to the table as a chair, of which I had seen several since my arrival in Grell. On the debris-littered table was a small rectangular object. I picked it up, swept the dust clear, but could not fathom its function. I shook it and heard nothing. The material used to construct it I did not recognize, but that was nothing new. Everything in this world I now inhabited was a mystery to me. I tossed the object back onto the table.
It disturbed the dust as it bounced on the flat surface and then a light came on. The object’s face now glowed. I picked it back up, surprised to see black markings across its lit surface. They were squiggles that all lined up to form perfect rows, like plants in a Spood field. It was interesting, but what it all meant I did not know, and there was no one here to tell me. I shrugged, tossed the thing back onto the table, and then exited the cubicle.
A sound startled me, a rattling noise followed by a clinking. The rattling sound originated from somewhere above me. My eyes followed a crack up the white room’s wall and I spied a square hole. The aperture sat twice my height up the wall and it was as wide as an outstretched arm. Had the noise come from there? I listened again. Nothing.
I tried moving closer to the wall to get a better look, but debris from the ceiling made it difficult. An object on the floor glinted, catching my attention. Picking it up, I recognized it as a coin, an item of value to the Spood. There was another one . . . and another!
I called the others over and soon we uncovered more of the shining metal chips. Beneath a recent fall of ceiling stone and tile, we found leather bags of various sizes. Each had a drawstring, and upon opening the bags we discovered they all contained coins, some more than others.
We scratched our heads over this until I again glanced up at the hole in the wall. The hole was right above the pile of moneybags, and I realized the cavity might be the opening to a shaft of some kind. I wondered if it might angle up and extend all the way to the ground surface. Perhaps there was a room up there, one much like the one with the staircase we had used to descend to this delightful place.
If so, why would people throw money down the shaft into an empty room? That one had me stumped.
“Offerings for Gor-jar?” Izzy conjectured. “Trying to buy his favor with something of value, perhaps?”
“That sounds right,” Lillatta concurred. “When the Creet came to our camp, I overheard one ask another if he had a coin for Gor-jar when they got back home.”
I looked at the pile of bags.
“Well, the ritual must not be that old. There are not that many coins here. Do you think maybe Gor-jar eats them, too?”
Speaking of Gor-jar, where was the hungry god? We had seen no sign of any such being since our incarceration in this underground paradise.
Then, I heard the humming.
**
~~NINETEEN~~