Just then the hailing frequency sounded from his viewscreen.
“What the hell?” he muttered again. Flipping on the screen to take the call, he was confronted with a blonde haired female and a male with long, dark red hair who looked Kindred.
“Thrace S’ver?” the male said, addressing him. “Greetings, brother. You don’t know us but we know you. And we’re here to help.”
Chapter Thirty-three
“Please, no more,” Trin whispered through dry lips. “Please, High Priestess, I feel so weak.”
“You are weak or you would not have allowed a male to penetrate you.” Betina, the high priestess gave her a disgusted look from under the elaborate headdress she wore. It was jet black, like her long robes, and encrusted with rubies the size of Trin’s thumb.
Trin wondered listlessly if her mother’s money had helped pay for the elaborate head gear. If so, she had made a sizable investment into one of the ugliest articles of clothing Trin had ever seen. It had stiff folds on either side and was peaked in front, coming to a point like a bird’s beak which cast the priestess’s sallow, narrow features into shadow. Her beady eyes glinted from the darkness, raking Trin with a judgmental stare that made her feel naked.
As a matter of fact, she was naked—abject humiliation was part of the ritual she was undergoing in an attempt to cleanse herself from the male influences she had allowed to enter her body. But being naked wasn’t nearly the worst part of the experience so far. Not nearly.
Trin passed a hand over her eyes, trying not to remember…wishing she could forget…
Her mother had been waiting to meet her at the front door of their domicile when she came home to Zetta Prime. She hadn’t even allowed Trin to enter the house for fear she would contaminate it. Instead, she had taken her straight to the Temple of the Goddess of Judgment, a vast, gray building with tall, imposing walls and numerous hooded priestesses roaming its echoing halls in bare feet.
The high priestess, Betina, had taken one look at Trin and dragged her to the inner sanctum of the main worship hall to stand before the huge, frowning statue of the Goddess of Judgment.
“Strip her!” the high priestess had ordered and two gray robed priestesses had complied, tearing Trin’s clothing from her body and leaving her standing there naked and shivering in the echoing chamber.
“Oh Goddess of Judgment,” Betina intoned, looking up at the tall, frowning statue. “One stands before you who has been Defiled. She has allowed a male to enter her and in so doing she has become unclean.” She pointed a finger at Trin. “Admit your sin!”
“I…” Trin’s voice had come out as a croak. “I…forgive me, Goddess—I have sinned. I have…allowed a male to…to penetrate me.” She took a gulping breath. “And…I enjoyed it. I…I’m so sorry. Please, forgive me.”
“She enjoyed it!” Betina sucked in her breath in horror.
“I…could not help it,” Trin mumbled. “I could not…could not stop the pleasure I felt when…when he was with me.” She looked up at the statue which seemed to scowl at her in anger. “Which is why I ask for forgiveness.”
“Forgiveness cannot be had simply for the asking.” Betina’s beady black eyes narrowed. “It must be earned with sacrifice. Only through pain and mortification of your body and spirit can purification be achieved.”
“I understand,” Trin said humbly. “I will do whatever is necessary.”
“Prove it.” The priestess pulled something long and silver out of her flowing robes and handed it to Trin.
Trin looked down at the pair of heavy, blunt sheers that lay in her palm and then back up again at the priestess.
“What—?”
“Cut it off.” Betina motioned to her hair. “Cut it off as a sign of your humility and your devotion to the Goddess.”
“All…all right.” Trin had always considered her hair one of her best features but she lifted the heavy sheers without hesitation and began to cut. She couldn’t see what she was doing so she knew she must be making a mess of it. But that didn’t matter now—all that mattered was making up for what she had done.
I deserve it, she told herself as long strands of her thick black hair drifted down around her bare feet. I have to pay for what I did and this is the only way.
Her head felt lighter and the cool breeze sweeping through the echoing worship chamber chilled the back of her neck when she was finished and handed the sheers back. She hoped that standing naked before the Goddess and cutting her hair might be all she had to do, but she was wrong.
The ritual was just getting started.
After her hair was cut, Betina brought out a stone chalice, so large and heavy she had to hold with both hands. Strange markings were carved around the outside and the inside of it was stained an ominous reddish-brown.
“What…what is that for?” Trin had asked hesitantly.
“Now you must bleed for your sins,” the priestess told her. “Bleed the evil from your body and give your blood to show your remorse.” She withdrew a long, curving ceremonial dagger with a jeweled handle and pressed it to the inside of Trin’s elbow.
Trin stifled a gasp as the blade bit deep and watched as her blood overflowed and poured in ruby rivulets down her arm and into the stone goblet. After a while, she began to get dizzy and wondered how much blood she had to give to atone for her sins. She felt weak and shaky when the deep cup was finally filled and one of the lesser priestesses bandaged her arm.
But she still wasn’t done.
“Bring me the hrakka,” Betina demanded. One of the other priestesses disappeared for a moment. When she returned, she held a long handled instrument with four sharp, parallel claws curving from its end.
“What…what are you going to do with that?” Trin asked, eyeing the needle sharp claws in dismay.
“As you have allowed defilement and impurity to enter into you, so you must be marked on the outside to show your evil,” the priestess intoned. As Trin tried not to flinch, she dragged the sharp claws down her arms and legs, over the tops of her breasts, her belly and buttocks—even her cheeks—scoring and scratching every inch of Trin’s body with long, bloody welts that stung and ached fiercely.
Trin tried not to cry out but the pain was intense. She shifted uneasily and the priestess slapped her hard across the cheek.
“Hold still!”
“I’m trying,” Trin whispered through gritted teeth. “The pain…”
“The hrakka’s claws are treated with an acidic agent to increase pain and suffering.” She gave Trin a cruel smile. “They will leave permanent marks so that all who see you will know what you have done.”
“What?” Trin looked at her wildly. “But my mother said, she told me that only you and she would know what…what I did!”
“That was before you admitted to enjoying your defilement,” the priestess snarled. “Such disgusting sin cannot go unpunished. Now everyone who looks at you will know that you allowed yourself to be defiled by a male. The marks of the hrakka will tell them!”
Trin wanted to cry but she refused, raising her chin instead. Maybe the priestess was right—maybe she did deserve to have everyone know what she had done—to be marked permanently for her sins and her shame. And yet…had it really been so bad? She couldn’t help remembering the feel of Thrace’s strong arms around her, the way he had whispered her name and said that he loved her. They hadn’t been hurting anyone—was what they had done really so awful?
I committed sacrilege against the Goddess, she reminded herself sternly. I have to pay the price.
But even so, the next step of the ritual was almost more than she could bear.
Betina led her out of the back of the temple, into the gardens—a vast space covered in withered purple grass and surrounded on all sides by high, gray walls.
There, stamping and snorting, were two familiar figures. Trin’s heart sank as she saw one of the lesser priestesses holding the bridles of her beloved pets, Swift and Silk. When they saw her, they tossed thei
r heads and Swift let out a ringing neigh. He pulled free of the priestess holding him and cantered over to Trin.
“Oh, Swift…” Trin put her arms around his neck and pressed her face to his warm hide, drawing comfort from him as she had so often growing up. “Oh my good boy…” He snorted and nuzzled her hair, as if to ask what was wrong and Trin pressed close to him, breathing in the warm scent of horse hair and sweet hay and wishing with all her might that they were all back in her home pasture without a care in the world.
“That’s enough of your sickening display,” Betina snapped. She motioned at the lesser priestess. “You—come and pull this one back to stand by the other.”
Swift didn’t want to go but Trin patted and stroked him and spoke in a low, soothing voice, telling him to go back, that everything would be all right. But she was horribly afraid she was lying.
“Why have you brought my pets?” she asked in a low voice as Swift was led back to stand by Silk. Her stomach was twisted into knots and part of her already knew the answer.
“To show how sorry you are, you must sacrifice something you love,” the high priestess said coldly. “If the male who defiled you was here, we would demand you sacrifice his pain to the Goddess. As it is, the death of these two alien creatures will have to do.”
“They’re horses from Earth and I’ve had them since I was twelve cycles old,” Trin protested. “I raised them from foals. They’re old but still healthy—you can’t kill them—you can’t.”
“Why, because you love them?” Betina sneered at her. “If only you’d loved your purity as much they might have been spared. But I am afraid they must be given to the Goddess as a sign of your contrition.” She shoved a dagger into Trin’s hand—the same one she’d used to slice her arm for the blood sacrifice earlier. “Now do it—cut their throats!”
“No.” Trin shook her head violently and backed away, letting the dagger drop from nerveless fingers. “No, you can’t make me! I can’t…I won’t.”
Betina shook her head, the rubies in her black headdress winking like drops of blood in the pale sunlight.
“Weak and foolish female! Very well then, I will.”
Before Trin could stop her, she pulled a small but lethal heat-beam from the folds of her cloak and aimed it right between Silk’s eyes.
“No!” Trin jumped to stop her but she was suddenly surrounded by the lesser priestesses, all wearing their hooded gray robes. There was a zzap sound and a beam of concentrated heat and light pierced the mare’s skull, cooking her brain instantly. Silk staggered and threw up her head with a sound that was more scream than neigh…then she stumbled and slowly fell to her knees. Her warm brown eyes were suddenly lifeless as they rolled up in her head and she collapsed onto her side,
“Silk! No!” Trin broke free and ran to her but there was nothing she could do. Silk’s eyes were already glazing and there was a neat black hole burned just below the forelock Trin had loved to stroke.
The mare she had raised from a tiny foal was gone and the high priestess was standing over her with a malicious grin on her face.
“She should have died by the knife,” Betina said dispassionately as Trin wept into the dead horse’s mane. “Your punishment will be the worse because you were unable to do your duty.” Then she raised the weapon again and pointed it at Swift who was pawing the ground uneasily.
“No—no! Not Swift too!” Trin jumped up and tried to stop her—tried to grab her arm and push the blaster up and away. But before she could get to the priestess, there was another flat, lethal sounding zzap and Swift, too, gave a piercing neigh and fell to the ground. His big brown eyes rolled up at Trin as if to ask, Why did you do this to me? And then he collapsed and was silent.
Trin fell in a heap, weeping in the dirt of the temple garden. How often had she sought refuge and comfort from her pets? How often had she come home to see them cantering across the field to her, eager for her touch and the sound of her voice? When her mother was angry with her or disappointed at something she had done wrong, they were always there, Swift and Silk, waiting to comfort her and give her their unconditional love and affection. And now, in the space of a few heartbeats, they were gone—sacrificed to pay for her sins.
Me—they were killed because of me. It’s my fault…all my fault…The Goddess hates me…I don’t blame her—I hate myself!
Her shoulders shook and the sobs tore from her throat. Trin wished it was she who lay there dead in the withered grass. After all—she was the one who deserved death. Not the gentle, sweet pets she had raised from foals. Not the creatures she had loved from childhood.
The temple garden was an enclosed space, shut away from the rest of the world by its high, gray walls. As Trin lay there weeping by the bodies of her mare and stallion, she had never felt more trapped or more hopeless in her life.
“Why?” she whispered through her tears, turning her face up towards the priestess. “Why did you take them? It should have been me—you should have killed me.”
“You certainly deserve death but I promised your mother we would try to cleanse you of the defilement first.” Betina’s lip curled in disgust. “As we are not yet done, you must live a little longer. Now dig,” she snarled, kicking Trin in the side. “With your hands. You must bury these creatures as a fitting sacrifice to the Goddess of Judgment—though not nearly as fitting as if you had done your duty and sacrificed them yourself.”
Trin looked around her dully. That had been hours ago. She had been digging steadily ever since and still the hole she’d made still wasn’t half big enough for even Swift, let alone Silk as well. The dirt and stones of the temple garden was as hard and ungiving as the head priestess’s heart. Trin’s hands were bleeding, her nails chipped and torn. There was mud and blood mixed into the long welts which scored her body and she felt she would never be clean again—either inside or out.
“Please,” she whispered, looking up at the high priestess. “Can I…could I just have a drink of water?” Between the blood she’d given at the alter of the Goddess and all the tears she’d shed, she felt horribly dehydrated.
“No,” snapped Betina. “A Defiled One must strive to cry and sweat and bleed the impurities from her body—she must not replenish herself until her purity is restored.”
“But…what else can I do? What will it take to restore me?” Trin dared to ask. “I don’t know what else the Goddess wants of me…and you’ve already forced me to give her something so precious…” Her eyes wandered to Swift and Silk, lying motionless beside her.
The priestess sneered. “You think the death of a few animals can appease the wrath of the Goddess of Judgment? Let me assure you, we have barely scratched the surface of your sin.”
“But—” Trin began again. Just then, however, one of the other, lesser priestesses came out of the temple and whispered something in the Head priestess’s ear.
Trin wondered what she was saying but the long hood the priestess wore over her face muffled the noise.
“Really?” Betina’s beady eyes widened and she stared speculatively at Trin. “Is that truly so?”
The priestess nodded solemnly.
“Well. This requires some thought. Come.” The high priestess motioned in the direction of the temple. Then she threw a glance back at Trin. “You—keep digging. Oh, and think about what you would like to sacrifice next, at the ceremony tomorrow morning.”
“Sacrifice next?” Trin could hardly believe her ears. She motioned at the dead bodies of her beloved horses. “What are you talking about? What more can I give—what does the Goddess require of me before she’ll forgive me?”
Betina’s eyes flashed.
“She requires that which is most precious to you. Tell me, something girl—did you love the male you allowed to defile you?”
Though she knew it would get her into worse trouble, Trin couldn’t bring herself to lie. Lifting her chin, she looked Betina in the eye.
“Yes,” she said simply. “I loved him.”
&nb
sp; The priestess looked disgusted.
“Loving a male…I thought as much. Well, if he were here the Goddess would require that you give him as your pets were given. But since he is not, you must part with something else—some part of yourself you would rather not lose.”
“I…I’ve already cut off my hair and given my blood and been permanently scarred,” Trin whispered, touching her ragged fingertips to the bloody welts on her face.
“That is only the beginning. You must decide what you wish to lose. Some of the Defiled choose to cut off a finger…some an ear. Occasionally we have a particularly remorseful candidate who elects to put out an eye.” She shrugged. “The choice is yours.”
Trin looked at the priestess, her heart galloping in her chest. She had heard of such practices—all the Daughters of Zetta Prime who were sent to the temple for religious instruction had—but somehow she had never imagined they would be applied to her.
“You…you want to cut off my finger or poke…poke out my eye?” she whispered in a dry, breathless voice.
“Oh no, my dear…” Betina smiled maliciously. “I want you to cut off one of your fingers or poke out one of your eyes. This sacrifice must be made by you. Otherwise the Goddess will not accept it.”
“But…but…” Trin shook her head, unable to believe what she was hearing.
“Now I must go. Keep digging. Those beasts won’t bury themselves.”
And the high priestess turned, leaving Trin alone in the garden with only her dead horses for company.
Chapter Thirty-four
“Oh honey, look at you—you’re a mess!”
“I hate to say it but Charlie’s right—you’re in a state.”
Trin looked up blearily, trying to find the source of the voices. It was dark in the garden—long past midnight she thought—and she had finally finished the grave she’d been set to dig. She’d been too weak, though, to push Swift and Silk into the huge hole. When she’d tried, a wave of dizziness had overcome her and she had collapsed at the side of the grave, breathing hard as the world faded to gray.