FALSE GODS

22 Afraid of the Dark

Rhode accepted some bread and water after she had thrown up her fill of mud. Hypnos cast another spell to remedy her weakness. Dusk had set in, and Grave lit a torch near the mouth of the cavern. The necromancer had disappeared from view, but Rhode could hear him going bump in the dark, near the river bank. She thought she heard a small animal braying from that direction.

“It is almost time,” Grave told her. “The solstice is upon us.”

He gave her a cloak and turned away to give her privacy. Rhode undressed from the mud-caked tunic and wrapped the blanket tightly around her neck to the knees. The riverside would be chilly this time of the night.

She had not come to terms yet, with the prospect of becoming the vessel for a seraph. The sheer scale of it went over her head.

She had lived encumbered in the Agrippa household all her life. Apart from a few visits to the town marketplace, she could not see the rest of Fugi, forget about the other cities of Theikos. Perhaps marriage to Jirel would have brought some liberty to her. She could have traveled across Fugi to Pago, roamed its rich marketplaces, and watched plays and chariot races. But her future husband’s head lay at her feet, being raided by red ants. That bow tied itself.

Traveling peculiars often stopped by their cottage asking for directions and supplies. In return, they’d offer their abilities for any requested task. Once a hunter peculiar arrived at the peak of summer and solicited one night’s stay with food. He had a remarkable ability to ward off insects. In return for the Agrippa family’s hospitality, he helped drive away pests from the vegetable patch. There had been several visitors like him- strongmen, beast whisperers, fortune tellers, fighters, an occasional element bender. Of gods, she had only heard in stories. And had never imagined she’d ever see one. Therefore, becoming a vessel for a primordial goddess was far-flung, roamed for her flight of fancy.

Moreover, she had never met stranger fellows than her present captors. Based on their explanations, one was a necromancer, and the other was a Horkus, an undead creature.

The question on her mind was- why was she chosen? Hypnos explained the matter by referring to her blood. She had been disoriented at the time and had dozed off for several minutes, missing the meat of the talk.

Another issue haunting her was- would becoming a vessel kill her? If it doesn’t, will she be conscious after?

And did she care anymore about being alive? Being rid of her will probably do her family some good. Her mother’s health had deteriorated thinking about her marriage. Perhaps her passing would be a boon to her parents.

Grave approached her. “It is time,” he said, motioning her to get to her feet.

He picked up Rhode in his arms as if she was a stalk of wheat. His strength was supernatural. With one pair occupied, Grave removed the other pair of arms from his tunic to hold the torch. Rhode was shocked by him turning out to be a four-armed man, but she barely had the strength to be surprised anymore. The day could not get any stranger than it already had.

“Are you not scared of me?” Grave inquired on their way to the river bank.

“No,” she murmured.

“People usually are. My victims soil themselves as soon as they see me. They flee. They hide. They do anything they can to not look at me.”

“Why? You are so polite.”

“I try to be. But it is increasingly difficult with a partner like Hypnos. He is a bad influence.”

“But he is your father.”

“I reckon I never saw it that way. If he is my father, then he is a terrible one.”

Rhode smiled weakly. Ruben Agrippa was strict, disciplined, and perhaps a little dispirited because he could not provide his family with any luxury. Years of isolation from society had not done him any favors. But he had always been good to them.

The necromancer had been getting a boat ready for them to go out in the river. Rhode saw a billy goat inside the vessel, its legs bound in a single knot. Its mouth was gagged with a leather muzzle to prevent it from raising a racket.

Grave set her down on the edge of the bank, some distance away from the boat. She unwrapped herself, handed him the blanket, and walked into the water, naked. Hypnos had instructed her to wash and cleanse herself. It was important for the ritual to proceed smoothly.

The cold hit her abruptly, and she shivered, her teeth chattering. But she bathed herself nonetheless.

Grave’s eyes were wide, peering at her body under the moonlight.

“How old are you?” Rhode posed at him, squatting in the water to clean her privates.

“Hypnos created me four years back. That would make me four years old.”

“That would make you a baby,” she replied, giggling. Grave looked at her, laughing as if it were a very intriguing phenomenon.

“You never had a mother, then?”

“No. And I don’t understand why I would need one. I was spawned as a man. And men don’t need mothers.”

“That is not true. My father is middle-aged, but he misses my grandmother.” Again, Grave glimpsed at her as if fascinated.

“Have you never seen a woman naked before?” Rhode asked, covering her groin as she stood up, trembling.

“I have not. I’ve killed a lot of damsels. Strong fighters. Peculiars. Tall Women. Fat Women. Wives. Mothers. But I did not see an exposed woman until now. It is a strange feeling, I must admit.” he said, wrapping her in the blanket.

“You are the first man to see me unclothed. Please don’t forget me if I die.” Rhode pleaded.

“I won’t,” he promised, picking her up again. She snuggled closer to him for warmth. He felt igneous as if a furnace was lit inside.

Hypnos and the sacrificial goat were situated on one side of the boat. Grave placed Rhode on the other side. He went back, lodged the torch in the ground, and stepped onto the vessel. They would have to row in the darkness.

The Horkus perched on the middle thwart seat. He was a lumbering man, at least three hundred pounds, but the boat suffered no sinkage. Perhaps some magick of Hypnos was in play, Rhode thought. The vessel had four oars, and Grave’s two pairs of hands took command of them. He poked the land with an oar, and the boat slipped into the water. And then he rowed.

“Don’t jump into the water to escape. It is too muddy.” He warned Rhode. “I won’t be able to rescue you. You will die before the ritual for no reason.”

“I won’t jump,” she promised.

They had camped at the curve of a meander, and hence the water was stagnant. Over half a river-mile away towards the south, the river formed rapids. The Ascendancy wall loomed on the horizon like a standing wave.

Hypnos was muttering words that made sense only to himself. He was dressed in a black, full-length robe that made it difficult for him to be seen in the dark. Only the moonlight showed the way.

“Will the ritual take my life?” Rhode wondered aloud.

“There were other girls before you,” Grave recalled. “Older, stronger; some were fighters. But you seem to be the weakest of the lot. Likely going to die.”

Tears escaped Rhode’s eyes, but no one could see them in the dark.

They had traversed over a quarter river-mile from the bank. The water depth was at least thirty feet.

Hypnos signaled Grave to stop rowing. They waited until the boat floated leisurely.

“Remove the cloak,” Grave told Rhode, almost embarrassed.

“Will you tell my family if I die?”

“We won’t.”

Rhode shed some more tears, this time with audible sobbing. But she took off the cloak, ready for the worst to happen.

“Don’t worry. It will be over soon,” Grave reassured her.

Hypnos’ chanting became louder.

He had four curious-looking balls of soil in his hands.

The necromancer dropped one on each side of the boat.

Then he quickly slit the throat of the billy goat and dropped it into the water. The animal never had a chance to protest.

Hypnos; voice rose louder than ever.

“Light Begone, or Darkness Become.”

“Path Bebroke or Wildling homecome.”

“Seed the Chaos or Fish the Dead.”

“Come Aera Cura from Bottom Bed”

“Come Dark Seraph into River Red.”

““Come Dark Seraph into River Red.

SURGEMUS ARDERE THEA KAXI!”

The necromancer clapped his hands to signal Grave.

The hulk picked Rhode up. His touch on her bare skin was almost affectionate.

“Fare you well.”

Rhode let out a whimper. But she had hit the water already. Her body sank like a rock. Almost instantly, a ripple radiated from below the boat. In a circle of fifty feet, tentacles burst out of the water, thirty feet into the air. They swayed and swiped and swished. The wind picked up, and it seemed a twister would begin on the river. Then abruptly, the racket died. The tentacles retreated into the water. From deep inside the river, a low-pitched echo sounded.

“Oh, Cura, another failure!” Hypnos exclaimed.

“This comes from choosing vessels with weak constitutions! One day we will run out of vessels!”

Grave started rowing back. He was acquainted with the recurring failure. They had tried the ritual several times on land. This was the first trial over a water body. The results were the same. However, the day was special. He liked Rhode. She was not scared of him.

“She was kind,“ Grave the Horkus told himself as the boat returned to the river bank.