10-25-2016, 06:58 PM
The air had continued to grow warmer as they worked their way down the tunnel. The sweat stung his burns. The quick cleaning and salve had done its job, as had the pain reliever, but he would need to dress his wounds more thoroughly. He felt a traitorous weakness wash over him for a moment but he refused to give in. Nor did he reach out to take the girl's arm. He was no Peter to fall asleep in the garden, however tired he was. His flesh would never weaken him.
The man-made tunnels gradually gave way to a deeper natural cave system. At one point, it had been necessary to cover his face using a part of his sleeve. It only partly hid the stench, though. Rot and putrefaction mixed with the strong scents of sulphor and lye wafted from a slit in the wall and his stomach wanted to turn.
The tunnels widened into long halls and trickling water, some fanning down the sides, shiny and reflecting the light from their torch. The hall twisted and they finally reached a branch where light spilled out. The shadows of three men stretched towards them, their cowls peering out into the darkness, faces hidden in their depths, waiting.
Immediately they broke from the entrance and went to the men carrying the oni's body. He touched his sword, ready. But they slowed and then touched hands to lips and then heart before relieving them of the carcass. The one who hadn't spoken earlier held out the bag in which he put the head of the beast and they took it as well before heading back into the tunnels. He moved his hand away from the blade.
The girl turned to him, the mane of hair a dark halo, smiling, her pride evident in her stance, her eyes aflame with silvery green light. Finally, she spoke, her voice clear and strong, answering the question he'd asked. And he did not move, did not show the slightest response.
Because what she said surprised him. Not the fact of their existence- though, in fact, he had not expected to find them. He had known of the ancient Khylsty, a group of Atharim from Siberia who had gradually developed into a cult that pursued spiritual purification as assiduously as it hunted creatures that should not be. No. It was more than the mere revelation of their existence that shocked him. There was something strange going on in the universe. A manifestation of intelligence and planning, of powerful hands at work. Too much to be coincidence. Apollyon; his own ascension as Regus; the return of the gods; the unlocking of the Voynich Manuscript; the curse tablet and the ijiraq; the reemergence of Di Inferi. And now the Khylsti. Yes, powerful- unknowable- forces were at work.
And Armande felt a frisson of fear like a trickle of ice down his back. No! He quashed the feeling ruthlessly. Not fear. Discomfort. Chaos gnawed at him, a rat to nibble away at his body, at the world, and it made him want to lash out. He craved order, predictability. He hungered to hold the reigns in his hands, to mold the world, to rid it of the rampant disharmony and unpredictability that sounded a cacophony of discordant instruments in his head.
How could he predict what he did not know? How could he control if there was another in charge? And yet....in what the girl- Valeriya, the Eye- in what she said there lay something. He teased out her words, savored them in his mouth. He looked into her fiery eyes. The Eye.
And he smiled at her invitation. "I would like to see," he said simply. So many meanings possible in those words.
His spirit rode the beast of his body, the hurts and tiredness forgotten, as he followed her out into a vast chamber, its vaulting ceiling high above shadowed despite the candles that cast their light up and outward. Through an opening at the far end, he could see another room in which cascaded a waterfall, the roaring of its falling waters echoing off the sides of the walls, casting up a mist of spray. There was also a pool covered in steam.
Despite being in the other room, the air here was at once warm and then cool by turns, heated air mixing with the mist coming off the water. The effect was hypnotic, a swaying back and forth of gentle caresses.
But none of that held his attention long. For along the wall, carved into the rock, were images. Words and pictures. Valeriya's strong voice came over the noise in the room, echoing.
"This is home. The Sacred dwelling of the last of the Khylsty,"
her wide smile showing her teeth. He looked at her and then back to the wall, stepped closer so he could see more clearly.
And looked directly into his own face.
That frisson remained and he did not quash it this time. Because this time, it was accompanied with a thrill of excitement. The universe. It had a plan. But he was part of it. And more than that. A window had presented itself. Opportunity.
He turned to her. "Tell me your story, Valeriya." He suspected he could piece it together. But he was content to be audience, now. What would happen would happen. There was no hurry to rush things along.
Edited by Regus, Oct 27 2016, 11:15 AM.
The man-made tunnels gradually gave way to a deeper natural cave system. At one point, it had been necessary to cover his face using a part of his sleeve. It only partly hid the stench, though. Rot and putrefaction mixed with the strong scents of sulphor and lye wafted from a slit in the wall and his stomach wanted to turn.
The tunnels widened into long halls and trickling water, some fanning down the sides, shiny and reflecting the light from their torch. The hall twisted and they finally reached a branch where light spilled out. The shadows of three men stretched towards them, their cowls peering out into the darkness, faces hidden in their depths, waiting.
Immediately they broke from the entrance and went to the men carrying the oni's body. He touched his sword, ready. But they slowed and then touched hands to lips and then heart before relieving them of the carcass. The one who hadn't spoken earlier held out the bag in which he put the head of the beast and they took it as well before heading back into the tunnels. He moved his hand away from the blade.
The girl turned to him, the mane of hair a dark halo, smiling, her pride evident in her stance, her eyes aflame with silvery green light. Finally, she spoke, her voice clear and strong, answering the question he'd asked. And he did not move, did not show the slightest response.
Because what she said surprised him. Not the fact of their existence- though, in fact, he had not expected to find them. He had known of the ancient Khylsty, a group of Atharim from Siberia who had gradually developed into a cult that pursued spiritual purification as assiduously as it hunted creatures that should not be. No. It was more than the mere revelation of their existence that shocked him. There was something strange going on in the universe. A manifestation of intelligence and planning, of powerful hands at work. Too much to be coincidence. Apollyon; his own ascension as Regus; the return of the gods; the unlocking of the Voynich Manuscript; the curse tablet and the ijiraq; the reemergence of Di Inferi. And now the Khylsti. Yes, powerful- unknowable- forces were at work.
And Armande felt a frisson of fear like a trickle of ice down his back. No! He quashed the feeling ruthlessly. Not fear. Discomfort. Chaos gnawed at him, a rat to nibble away at his body, at the world, and it made him want to lash out. He craved order, predictability. He hungered to hold the reigns in his hands, to mold the world, to rid it of the rampant disharmony and unpredictability that sounded a cacophony of discordant instruments in his head.
How could he predict what he did not know? How could he control if there was another in charge? And yet....in what the girl- Valeriya, the Eye- in what she said there lay something. He teased out her words, savored them in his mouth. He looked into her fiery eyes. The Eye.
And he smiled at her invitation. "I would like to see," he said simply. So many meanings possible in those words.
His spirit rode the beast of his body, the hurts and tiredness forgotten, as he followed her out into a vast chamber, its vaulting ceiling high above shadowed despite the candles that cast their light up and outward. Through an opening at the far end, he could see another room in which cascaded a waterfall, the roaring of its falling waters echoing off the sides of the walls, casting up a mist of spray. There was also a pool covered in steam.
Despite being in the other room, the air here was at once warm and then cool by turns, heated air mixing with the mist coming off the water. The effect was hypnotic, a swaying back and forth of gentle caresses.
But none of that held his attention long. For along the wall, carved into the rock, were images. Words and pictures. Valeriya's strong voice came over the noise in the room, echoing.
"This is home. The Sacred dwelling of the last of the Khylsty,"
her wide smile showing her teeth. He looked at her and then back to the wall, stepped closer so he could see more clearly.
And looked directly into his own face.
That frisson remained and he did not quash it this time. Because this time, it was accompanied with a thrill of excitement. The universe. It had a plan. But he was part of it. And more than that. A window had presented itself. Opportunity.
He turned to her. "Tell me your story, Valeriya." He suspected he could piece it together. But he was content to be audience, now. What would happen would happen. There was no hurry to rush things along.
Edited by Regus, Oct 27 2016, 11:15 AM.