The Megynsei were ambassadors and servants of the Alyi. It was their duty to see to the wellbeing of all physical persons within the universe. But, one particular Megynsei reveled in his power and freedom. With complete abandon, he forsook his proper master and domain, and lorded about Dyjian like a bully does a playground.
A certain foreboding dominated the air of the Tenchmok. It made Ashenzsi's skin ripple, because he sensed it with every breath. There was something terribly wrong here, more than his being confined in a tight, solid metal box.
The darkness within those unyielding walls was thick. The only air, the only penetrating light came from a small hole that he could barely fit his nose through. There was no food, no water, and until they saw fit to let him out, he contended with the humiliating sensation of full bowels.
How he wished the hole was large enough to slip the head-length of his tether — his dick, which was a little longer than a human arm — through.
He pressed his face to the wall, keeping his lips near the lonesome opening, breathing slowly, deeply, his gaze fixed on the small rod of light.
— Ashenzsi. The voice of Dyiij was a soft harmonic hum in his ears. The sensation of warmth, of arms, like being hugged after hours out in a frigid wind, wrapped around him, and he could no longer feel the weight and throb at his hips.
— Come on. The seal of the four walls broke. The top lifted and the walls slid down. Let's go pee on the statue.
"W-what?" He wasn't sure he heard Dyiij right.
— Right over there, on Fylus.
He perked his ears. "What if I get caught?"
— What if you get caught, indeed. I'll worry about that.
For the first time in a week, he rocked up onto his palms. His stiff arms ached under his weight, but he was barely able to lift his rear. Because that sensation of dire urgency smacked into him all at once, just as he got up. He pursed his lips and took deep breaths, the whole way down onto the dais.
When he finally got to the steel statue, he squatted, aimed his tether, and let it flow free.
Sweet relief.
Footsteps sounded down the hall, just as he neared the end of a long stream. His first instinct was to panic, but he didn't want to step in his own urine. Still, the steps were getting louder, coming closer, and inasmuch as he didn't want to stop, he stayed there.
Now Rylieq spent the most time at the Tenchmok. He and three men with him rounded the dais, and stopped when they spotted the tawny complexion of a certain pissing kyusoa.
The last Rylieq recalled, just having left from the Tenchmok's control room, none of the cages were set to be opened. In fact, they were reported as closed. Yet, here squatted Ashenzsi.
The kyusoa boldly stared him in the eye, but that moment of surprise was short. The two of the men with him had wranglers rods, designed to latch onto the collars the kyusoas wore. They lunged forth, aiming for the loops of Ashenzsi's collar.
Ashenzsi sprung up backwards, kicking one rod into the other, and landed off the dais. He took a low stance and presented his claws, his fingers curled, ready to shred some flesh.
The third man drew a hilt with little studs where the blade should be from his belt. With a flick of his wrist, the studs sparked to life, and the menacing, blackish aura of a heated, crimson blade sucked the light out of the room.
He dove and slashed down, but the Kyusoa crouched and caught the blade between his palms.
Normally anything that touched these swords vaporized into nothingness. Entire bodies would melt into dust just from contact even with the furthest extremity.
Yet here the blade was in Ashenzsi's grip. Sparks and wild licks of white light flailed from where the blade touched his hands. He slid his palms down the side to the hilt, and with a small bang and flash, the blade dissipated.
Astonished, the third man tussled with the hilt. When he couldn't get it to work he grimaced and stepped back.
His two nameless companions twisted the handles of their rods. Immediately the hook-and-latch end became three prongs, like bony fingers.
The static sound of an electric current surging through those prongs didn't scare Ashenzsi. He tensed, prepared to take on the other two.
Then Rylieq stepped forward and stopped them with applause, instead of pursuing the kyusoa further. "You must be that one that talks, the Oddball, the Abomination."
"Tsche," he said.
"How bold. Piss on the Oracle's dear statue, making a mess for me to clean up, and prepared to defend what freedom you have…" He stepped closer, keeping his paces shallow, so as to not alarm the kyusoa. "I like you. Or rather, we could be of use to one another."
"What do you want?" the kyusoa growled.
"A companion," he said, his expression softening into a more inviting, pleading visage. "In exchange I can prolong your life."
The kyusoa let him come close. He placed his thumb to the back of the creature's collar, and slid his first finger along the band. The collar chimed, popped open and dropped to the floor. His actions afforded him some curious glances.
"What do I call you?"
"Ashenzsi," the kyusoa said.
"Well hello, Ashenzsi. Come with me." Rylieq settled his hand on Ashenzsi's back and guided him to the gardens in the Tenchmok.
The bubbling rush of water from the fountain was soothing. As was the air, crisp, and clean.
"How did you get out of that box?"
The kyusoa paused, drew breath to speak, but didn't utter a word.
The man raised his hand and shook his head. "Knowing that answer will set a chasm between us. I trust that there are supernal influences acting on your behalf. At least for now we have something in common, you and I. See, I have a certain distaste for the present Oracle, and I want you to help me bring him down."
"What do I get out of it?" asked the kyusoa.
"I'll let you and your brother leave this infernal place. No questions asked." Rylieq grinned.
It was a knavish look on his face. Yet it accentuated his features: he appeared to be scheming all the time, from the moment he ran into Ashenzsi until now. Why trust him? But it was kyusoakin principle at work. Perhaps he wasn't at all what he appeared to be outwardly. To that, Ashenzsi nodded.
"What do I do?"
"The plan is simple. There's a sacrifice given at each ceremony. I'm going to switch you out for the she-kyusoa who's supposed to die today." His grin settled as he saw Ashenzsi's face pale.
"But…"
"Do you trust your Alyi?"
"Tsche."
"Then you won't die." He motioned to the three men that were with him. This time the kyusoa didn't struggle, as the rods latched onto the loops of his collar, and the three men led him away from Rylieq.
Before the earliest of arrivals came to the Tenchmok to secure their favorite cushions, Rylieq knelt at the foremost spot in front of the two statues. He put his hands together at his forehead and bowed until his little fingers touched the cold floor.
"What does it take to gain your favor?" He uttered, his tone soft, low. He straightened and looked longingly, smugly, at the golden eyes of the greater statue, Mokallai. "I know you've heard me for the past few years. How my hearts writhe at your use of that pisser. If it's cunning you want then I will show you cunning. You will not ignore me!"
"Who is ignoring you?" Fylus asked.
Rylieq straightened. He was so enveloped in his thoughts that he hadn't noticed Fylus coming in. "My earnest sentiments seem to have gone unanswered as of late."
"Tell me what they are, I'll see to them personally."
"I can't do that. They're dreadfully personal, you understand."
"Right…" Fylus stuffed his hands in his pockets. The white noise of the attendees started to fill the Tenchmok. "Have you secured the beast?"
"Of course."
"At least you're useful," Fylus said. He turned to the rear of the Tenchmok and started down the hall.
Rylieq bowed once more, muttered, then rose to his feet. What Mokallai
saw in that man, he'd only guess. But his hearts weren't the only ones racing as he entered into the preparation chamber.
The altar boys huddled against the walls. Ashenzsi thrashed against his bindings, and the tethering bolts were coming out of the wall. "Release me!" he snarled at them.
"Need I remind you of our agreement?" Rylieq stepped to the front of him, standing with his hips pressed to the edge of the table.
"I didn't agree to this!" The kyusoa pulled against his chains. "I don't want to go out there."
"You're not going to die."
"Still!"
"Look." Rylieq reached up and ran his fingers through Ashenzsi's mane. "There's no need to struggle. Someone powerful is watching over you. All you have to do is go out there, lay on the slab, and see just how the divine will protect you. That's it." His voice was baritone and soothing as he caressed the kyusoa.
Gradually Ashenzsi settled down, despite the quickening of his pulse. Still, the kyusoa didn't want to do it, the man could tell. Yet the moments of panic were fleeting, and as he stared into Rylieq's milky white eyes, he got lost. Assuring waves of confidence flooded into Ashenzsi.
"Lay back, put your arms and legs up." Rylieq said.
Ashenzsi did as told, and the man took a thick metal rod and slid it between his wrists and ankles. It took two men on either side of him to hold the rod up as Rylieq hogtied the kyusoa. He glanced at the open archway.
Beyond those doors the tone of Fylus's voice resounded from the smooth dome walls:
"This is our world," Fylus said, his voice dripping with conviction. "Our Lord strengthens with each beast offered, drinking their Aelyth, the power of their life-spirit. Soon the human family will stand tall and proud, dominant over these heathen creatures. All of them."
Rylieq's stomach gurgled as he watched them bow and chant:
"Destiny is sacrifice."
"But it is not yet our time," Fylus said. "We await only the sign of our Lord when he has come into full strength. When the power of Mokallai is replete, not just in him, but within us as well. This is why the animals are sacrificed. This is the reason for bloodshed. Just a little while longer and we will see the fruits of our patience. Remember the reward. You will be masters over your own fates. Now bring out the forfeit."
There was the cue. The four men hoisted Ashenzsi up by the pole and carted him into the Tenchmok.
Soon enough they lay him on the granite slab, slipped the rod out and secured his hands and feet. He stared at the ceiling, the high pointed part beyond the steel rafters.
Fylus hovered over him, running a hand down the side of the granite slab. He rounded the basin at the foot of the slab, and stopped when he got to the head, giving Ashenzsi a narrow glance. Something wasn't right, and Fylus seemed to know it. At least, he looked like he suspected something.
"This isn't the scheduled kyusoa," he growled.
"Father's orders takes priority. He wants this one dead immediately," Rylieq said.
"But…" Fylus hesitated.
"Are you saying you can't do this one?" Rylieq drew the ceremonial dagger off Fylus's belt and held it out to him. The smuggest grin alighted his features.
A cold bead of sweat trickled from under Fylus's arm down his side. There was no place for wavering. The last thing he wanted were doubts to arise in the minds of his followers. He had already preached for some years the way of Destiny, and they were waiting to see the final, conclusive act. He couldn't let there be anything wrong.
He took the dagger from Rylieq, and held the serrated blade over Ashenzsi's heart. He splayed one hand on Ashenzsi's chest, raised the other and angled the knife down. The thought that he should know this particular kyusoa crossed his mind.
"The blood of the forfeit gives life to Fate," he said, and thrust.
The dagger's keen tip came as close as Ashenzsi's skin, then the blade flashed and shattered with a violent bang. The hilt glowed hot and Fylus dropped it. The sharp burning pain of his seared palm meant little to him, as with wide, jaundiced eyes he looked at Rylieq:
That consistent, self-assured grin.
The crowd was silent as if stricken by death. What did this mean? Was it the promised sign they hoped for?
"This will not be something you can walk away from," he hissed. He folded an arm over his stomach and, bent, backed off of the dais. There were two forces at work, and Fylus knew the one that broke the ceremonial dagger wasn't from Mokallai.
To the sound of curious whispers and murmuring he left the temple.
"Mh," Rylieq grunted. He unchained Ashenzsi from the granite slab. As the kyuosa turned over and sat, he saw certain concerned expressions among the crowd:
Some worried that a loose kyusoa presented them with danger, others wanted to know what had just happened, and more still looked confused as to the meaning of their lives.
"What's going on?" someone asked.
Rylieq shrugged. "We're not sure. But know that the dagger is shattered and there won't be any sacrifices until a new one is made."
The crowd went hush.
"This is the sign, isn't it? It must be!" Someone else spoke up.
The people exchanged gestures and murmured.
"Please, please. Until the oracle has deciphered the meaning of the events of this morning, I can and will not say. We will have an answer soon." He gestured for them to leave.
There was some upset among them, but for the most part they filed out of the Tenchmok in threes.
When the last of them was out of the building, Rylieq sat down on the granite slab. "You did great," he said, turning his head to the side, to see Ashenzsi out of the corner of his eye.
"I didn't do anything," Ashenzsi said.
"I know. But it was perfect. It is perfect. It's only a matter of time before defrauding that fool comes full circle."
"What do you want from him anyway?"
Rylieq went quiet. In part he knew the authenticity Fylus had, that when his eyes turned the color of polished gold, there was power dripping from his lips: the man's words became reality. What more worthy thing was there to want than the ability to manifest one's thoughts?
He hated Fylus with a seething, crippling jealousy. That was why he offered Ashenzsi in the first place, because he knew the power of Dyiij was looming over this kyusoa.
He smiled. "I'm a complicated man. My wants aren't so easy to put into words. But I can tell you what I want for you." He stood up. "I want my father to see the value in keeping you around, now that you're part of the sign."
He led Ashenzsi to the gardens.
There were house slaves, and then there were the kyusoas kept in the gardens at the Tenchmok. Most of them were young females, rayihanns, whom weren't Proved by the older males in order to be full-fledged tyihas. Mostly because all the males were worked to death out in the fields, and the few that were in the Tenchmok soon saw their end.
"You're welcome to any of my she-beasts. You may eat from every sort of thing planted here in the garden, even the fish in the pond. The only thing I warn you of is that you do not leave the Tenchmok. I can't guarantee your safety outside this place."
A certain distinct apathy marked the body language of the she-kyusoas when Rylieq brought Ashenzsi in. They seemed to pass judgment on him with their bright big eyes, as if quietly casting lots as to when he'd be back on the sacrificial altar.
"Are they always this judging?"
"Eh…" Rylieq shrugged. "They'll get used to you. Now please excuse me, I have some personal matters to attend to. I will be back before the evening is up," he said, already striding back towards the temple.
He stopped at the foremost cushion at the front of the dais, knelt, and bowed. His hearts thrashed inside his chest. He parted his lips to speak, but couldn't draw a single breath. The air went static, and an electric chill ran down his spine. It was beyond a mere superficial cold, as it seemed to make his blood turn to ice in his veins, making even the marrow of his bones brittle.
? How terribly bold o
f you to challenge me. Mokallai's voice rasped deeply in Rylieq's ears, a sound only he could hear.
He glanced up at the statue and shuddered. It looked down at him, those golden irises set aflame like the morning sun. "I —"
? You will tell me why I shouldn't end you at once.
"Because I will do anything to have your power. I envy Fylus day and night, and if I can't have what he has, I will see to it no one else will. I have patiently hoped and waited, but my forbearance is worn thin."
? Hmph. Do you even know the gravity of your desire?
"I don't care. I want golden eyes, and words that alter reality. Get rid of that stupid vawd —"
? I will not be rid of Fylus on a whim. No, instead how about a test of just how desperate you are: there is a man who was recently taken into Ridd's employ, a white-haired man, Rollond Alekzandyr. Kill him.
"What if he's protected, like Ashenzsi?"
? He is.
"Then how do I kill him?"
? You're the one who was bent on showing me the extent of your guile. I don't care how it's done, just do it.
Rylieq sat straight and looked at the statue. The eyes had cooled, and the image seemed to peer aimlessly forward.
Wouldn't that be ironic, he chuckled at the thought, if the statue of Mokallai wasn't a statue at all, but a tall, poised Megynsei. Patient and scheming, watching the affairs of every person within the estate.
He didn't immediately return to the gardens.
What sort of affairs Men had were often a mystery to Ashenzsi. The sun had taken its course, settling as it does in the northern hemisphere. He expected Rylieq to be back within a few hours, but already half a day passed.
He was weak, and the she-kyusoas were sitting down to eat. As he went up to join them they picked up their bowls and moved away, hissing and snarling. He flattened his ears. His stomach gurgled, and he went to one of the bushes to pluck one of the nyiba berries that were big as a man's foot is long. As soon as he touched it, a rayihann pounced him.
She hooked her claws into his flesh and jerked him back. Instinctively, he lay on his stomach and didn't dare to look her in the eye. She was a member of the dominant sex, and her unspoken message was clear: he does not eat without their say so.
But as soon as she made her statement another sauntered over and shoved her off his back. "This one is mine."
"Nai'ii, he is not!" the rayihann growled in protest.
But the second female was older, a proper tyiha, and she gave the younger one an unaffected glance. "Leave." She stood over Ashenzsi.
The rayihann, the younger one, backed down.
"These unproved rayihanns," the tyiha grumbled. "They're good for nothing, and will get you killed." She plucked the nyiba from the bush and handed it to Ashenzsi. "You are jen still, a virgin, tsche?"
"Who are you?" He at least had enough courtesy to ask her name rather than immediately bite into the berry's spongy exocarp.
"Sanci," she smiled and said.
Now, Sanci was the most beautiful creature out of them all. A crest of long, crimson feathers crowned her and draped down her shoulders like the long wavy locks of a woman. She was voluptuous, and her eyes had the sheen and colors of nacre.
"Aunii chaas," he said, keeping his tone low. He took his first few bites, slurping the juice from the center. "And nai'ii. I am the Uutaijen."
His words made her lift her head and frown. She laid next to him and swung her tail around his back, spreading the long, iridescent coverts of her train over him. "So you have the right to breed."
"It is good for the female's belly to swell up pregnant."
"The last one who pursued that vein of thought saw all his offspring perish or be sold. That was before he was deemed useless as a breeder and wound up sacrificed. In fact, all the young males have met similar ends."
"I'm not stupid."
"I never said they were."
He slurped and finished the berry.
"You have kin here?"
"My ma'aukja, but I don't know where he is."
"Working the fields, I bet. That's where all the males are kept, except for you."
"He is an Uunan."
Her expression was exactly what he anticipated when he cast his glance her way. It was always an expression of disbelief, astonishment, shock. He could read the one thought right off her face:
Since when does any kyusoa and a human become that close?
"Sanci." It was the beckoning of Rylieq's voice that broke the attentive quiet between the two. He stepped over to them, his hands on his hips, head down, thoughtful. "Forgive me if this isn't a good time, but I want to negotiate something with you."
"I dance for no one," she said without hesitation.
"Excuse us." He dismissed Ashenzsi, and they strode towards the temple, both of them upright. "This isn't about a dance, my dear. No, the latest employee is a problem for all kyusoakin kept here, and I want to see that problem fixed."
"What has he done?"
"The most brutal of barbarism, I assure you. You haven't seen Rah'ii lately, have you? We had to wrap him in bandages, he was covered in flesh-burns from being dragged against his will. At the order of our latest overlord, I might add." He delighted to see her expression glower.
"What do you want from me?"
"I want you to kill him." Then the gravity of what he asked settled, and she seemed to want to shrink back from him. He put his hands behind his back and curled his fingers to keep his face from showing a certain seething, eager anger. "I want your answer when I come for you again," he said, and left her there.
Tyiha.
Schiivas, the 1st day in the month of Yiluzsi;
Concerning Rollond and Sanci;
Spring of the 691st year into the Second Epoch of Dyjian.