House Of Pryce

  Chapter 8

  Sayjin felt his stomach turn. He lent from the branch and vomited onto the ground, pieces of half digested meat flooded across the forest floor.

  When he ate, he always ate too much, when he drank he could not stop himself, when there were was a enchanting woman he never held back his love. This was the curse of the only potent man left in an impotent world. When he felt desire, the others would fall to the side and he would continue to indulge, unchallenged, and then Sayjin was left to suffer the consequences of excess.

  At one point, he had thought to hold himself back, to ignore the impulses that took his soul, but then what would he be? Nothing but a useless shadow of himself, like the rest of his people, who he looked upon with great pity.

  It had been a wondrous day when he met Valtteri and Nerys. Finally, others to challenge him. Valtteri was there to snatch the food from his furious hands, Nerys to slap the wine from his lips. If the fight was in him he would take back his meal or pick up his cup, but if he had truly had his fill, his friends had saved him from his fate.

  Sayjin purged again.

  The bile soured his lips. Sayjin wiped the spit from his mouth and turned his attention to the forest. The morning air was quite. Sayjin looked at the camp, the bodies of the dead were ravaged and torn apart by the dogs. On the far side of camp, the bloodied remains of the man were still tied to the tree, unable to overcome the rope. It was a sad end, the man had done so well to survive this long after the fall, he had come so far, and yet he was taken down by a few, lowly mutts and a simple rope.

  Sayjin sighed and then remembered the directions he had been given. He turned from the camp, steadied himself on the branch and moved forward through the treetops. He would not be distracted today, he would find shamans before nightfall.

  It was still morning when he heard the sound of water coming from beyond the trees. The treetops became thin, Sayjin dropped to the ground and pushed through the last line of trees. Beyond he saw the strangest sight he had ever seen.

  The water ran clear and quick across the dark, brown earth of the river bed. Where the sunlight hit the surface of the stream it reflected an odd red, perhaps blue.

  The brush that had grown close to the river had taken on strange traits. A bush had grown its flowers four times larger than that of their normal size, each petal a different colour. The branches that had grown above the stream carried large, brown warts that slowly moved across their bark. A long, legged bird stood in the river cleaning it wings, but as Sayjin looked closer he noticed the bird was not moving, somehow frozen in place. He touched the bird, the feathers shed themselves from its body and fell to water, quickly washed downstream. All that remained of the bird was a rotting corpse standing still and lifeless in the water.

  Sayjin smelt the air, the normal comforting smell of damp rot was gone replaced by a strange, sweet smell like sugar or perfume. He had expected the magic of Shaman to be odd, but nothing like this.

  Sayjin pushed onwards surveying the riverbanks. He came across a tree with fruit the size of his head, the fruit bulged and warped as though their flesh inside was made of liquid. A worm the size of snake lay dead beneath the tree starting to rot, giving off the same sweet smell.

  A bush shook violently on its own accord, throwing its leaves from its branches, when its leaves hit the ground they decomposed instantly and vanished into the soil. The bush then began to sprout new leaves, growing large and green again.

  The strange warts on the trees started to become smaller as Sayjin moved upstream. Instead, the trees themselves began to melt as though they were wax put to close to a flame, though when it appeared as though a branch would make contact with the water or earth, the tree would suddenly whip back into its normal form, before slowly beginning to melt again. Sayjin stopped and watched the trees for a while, he had never seen anything so mesmerising. He went to touch one of the branches that drooped close to him but before he could, the tree swung away taking its solid shape again. Sayjin wondered how the tree knew his touch was close.

  As the sun peaked in the sky he reached the source of the steam. A cave that cut into a small rise in the ground. The mound was so small it was barely larger then Sayjin and with just a handful of steps he was able to circle it completely. Though when he peered into the cave it seemed to travel back a great distant.

  Sayjin listened at the cave entrance and heard movement inside. He laid his hand on the side of the tunnel and found it to be smooth as glass. He ducked slightly to enter and placed both hand on the walls to keep his balance.

  The entrance was cool with a breeze blowing from within, the sound of movement became louder as Sayjin moved further down the tunnel. It went perfectly straight for a few hundred feet and Sayjin could see clearly even though he left the light of day far behind him. He knew he had found the Shaman he sought.

  Eventually, the cave opened into a large cavern, stonework made the walls resemble a room of a fine castle. Fires burnt in the two heaths on each side of the space casting a warm light across the space, a kettle was strung up over one of the fires, whistling as steam escaped from its spout.

  In the centre of the room sat something Sayjin was not expecting. An altar made of a single slab of dark golden stone. Carved horns stuck straight up from its slab, twisting on themselves like seashells, the mark of Tarenli, the god of chaos. The slab was held up by four carved Saquaari there long wings stretched from shoulder to heel, their hard muscular bodies proudly displayed. Two were females with six round breast and wide hips. Two were male with large endowments and broad shoulders, their large feline paws held the slab, their legs and arms resembled those of the large cats Sayjin had hunted in the jungles.

  The four carvings each were finished with the head which resembled that of the a normal man except for the two large horns that began on their temples and swept up and over the heads and reaching down beyond neck and shoulders. Each face held a different expression, one stern, one fierce, another content, the final one was asleep.

  Water flowed from the top slab and down the side of the altar then escaped under Sayjin’s feet out into the forest. This was not a home of a Shaman, it was some kind of temple to the corrupting gods, but why was it hidden in middle of the forest under a dirt mound. Sayjin was intrigued and entered the room.

  A figure at the back of room fussed over a wooden table. Sayjin moved from the entrance and approached the altar, cautious of the figure wrapped in a simple, brown cloak. It seemed to be busy with something on the table.

  The altar bubbled away as water seemed to erupt from the stone slab.

  “Greetings,” called Sayjin.

  The figure turned in the light and looked at Sayjin. The face was swollen and grey, his cheeks bloated hiding the eyes of the man in dark pits.

  “Greetings,” replied the figure with a cracked voice and returned back to the table.

  “Are you the one who sends the lights into the sky?” asked Sayjin.

  “The lights are not meant for you,” said the man dismissively.

  Sayjin approached the table and saw a large number of root vegetables and mushrooms laid across the surface, the bloated creature was slicing them and placing them into a wooden bowl. Sayjin picked up a mushroom and sniffed it, it gave of a normal earthy smell.

  “Do you have a name?” asked Sayjin placing the mushroom back on the table.

  “I am Horun,” he replied taking the bowl and walking towards the fireplace with the kettle.

  “Are you a cleric of Tarenli?”

  The head of cleric would be a good enough prize for today.

  “The clerics are in the God’s Isle,” replied the man, “didn’t you know?”

  “Then, who are you?”

  “Horun.”

  The steaming water poured into the bowl.

  “Is this yours?” asked Sayjin pointing at the altar.

  “Can one own the power of gods?”

  “Can you use it?”

  “Of course not,”
laughed the figure.

  “Then what are you doing here?”

  “Waiting for the tide to recede.”

  Pushed the hot bowl into Sayjin’s hands.

  “Drink this,” said Horun, “and I will explain.”

  Sayjin smelt the broth it had alluring smell of strange herbs and spices. He drank from it and his mouth came alive with a thousand flavours. He drank the rest of the broth, happily, and looked at man. Horun was now standing in front of the altar and three purple lights rose from its surface and then in a moment the three lights flew from the cave. He seemed fixated on the water flowing from the slab. Horun did seem to know something about this altar.

  Sayjin opened his mouth to speak, but as he did the world began to spin around him. He dropped the bowl and a white mist took the world from him or the he was taken from the world. Either way, Sayjin stood alone in the white as a wind found him. Slowly, it started to push his body forward.

  There were forms just beyond clouds that he caught out of the corner of his eye, but then they were gone. Then his body jolted as he felt himself move upwards as though a hand had pinched his head between its thumb and index finger. His body lost it strength and become limp and motionless. There was no longer a floor under his feet.

  Sayjin let his body travel, he wondered to himself if he should struggle, but then he could not remember why he was here. There had been bird in his stomach, for a moment, it had made him sick and now he was here.

  The mists started to part and he found himself in circle of white stone. Life returned to his body and he was standing again. The edges of circle were lined with rough, grey columns, beyond them the mist swirled.

  At the far end of the circle sat a large, golden throne was draped with red silk. A top the throne sat Sam, the crown of the Golden Empire sitting proudly atop its head.

  “Come forward, old friend,” said the goat.

  Sayjin moved towards Sam with a cautious pace, he was dreaming he conclude.

  “You have done well to find me in mists,” said Sam.

  “Why am I here?” asked Sayjin.

  “To see to my ascension.”

  “What are you?”

  “I am Emperor Sam the First, the Wise and Just chosen of Thalius and ordained by the true gods.”

  “But your an Empress?”

  “You must not get distracted, Sayjin,” scolded Sam, “I must sit upon then Golden Throne or none will sit upon it again and the world will be lost to the mists of chaos.”

  “I have heard it said.”

  “That is what I can ask of you, my love,” replied Sam, “come, let me lick your neck.”

  Sayjin approached the throne.

  “You forget me, brother,” came Valtteri’s voice Sayjin turned and there stood the large frame of Valtteri exuding a familiarity that comforted Sayjin in this strange place.

  “Love me,” commanded Sam and Sayjin turned back to look into the speckled eyes of the goat.

  “You’ve no time for love, now,” came Nerys and Sayjin turned to see her bringing a strength that gave metal back to his muscles as his head swam.

  “She is jealous of our passion,” cried Sam and Sayjin turned back to the goat and then it whispered softly, “let me lick your neck.”

  The long tongue of the goat came forward and ran the length of Sayjin’s neck and he was in the room of wooden walls. He stood naked looking at the young woman with golden skin laying on the bed. Her small breast pointed to the ceiling her nipples hard, she had kicked back the sheets displaying the tight curves of her body and her bright silver hair.

  “We must wait my love,” she whispered.

  “I will wait,” he replied.

  “Can you?”

  “I must.”

  “Maybe, there is something else for us?”

  “Where?”

  “I know a place they won’t look.”

  She rolled onto her side, presenting her back to Sayjin, but he did not want her to turn away, he wanted to look upon her and have her whisper to him again. He raced to the bed.

  “I will wait,” he shouted as he pulled at the woman’s shoulder and the body tore itself into halves.

  Her face was rotten, her eyes dead. The body had ripped in two from head to hole, maggots and organs spewed onto the bed. Sayjin jumped back from the bed, someone was banging at the door.

  The mound of maggots grew and squirmed on the bed. The banging at the door continued.

  “We don’t have time,” shouted Nerys from behind the door.

  “I’ll have what’s left of the wretch, Sayjin,” yelled Valtteri.

  The bed in the middle of room began to sink into the wooden floor, the walls bowing towards the centre. Sayjin pushed himself up against the wall, peering into the pit of rot and puss now below him.

  The floor was starting to slip away, he grabbed at the walls behind. There were slight ridges and small grooves that he tried to jam his fingers into. Normally, he could grip them with easy, but now his fingers slipped with sweat and refused to hold.

  His fingertips ached and stung as splinters caught under the nails. The floor continued to sink, as he scratched and clawed, he wanted to hold on, but he wanted was irrelevant here. Sayjin fell, screaming, into the pit and he hit the ocean with a crash. The storm ranged above, lightning crackled across the clouds. A hand reached in and pulled him onto the boat.

  “Take the oars, damn you,” shouted his grandfather against the wind, “we’re almost through The Hold.”

  Sayjin grabbed the oars and started tried catch them in the water under the boat, but the fierce waves made it difficult. Lightning arced to the sea, he was blinded by the flash and deafened by the roar. When his sight returned his grandfather was the gone. The man he had left by the tree, left to the dogs, sat across the boat from him, his collar in hand.

  The man lunged at him.

  Sayjin was pushed to the back of the boat, the man was upon him. Sayjin tried to push him off but his arms had no strength, his legs tried to kick but they were numb and refused to move. Sayjin tried to move his useless body away, but the man had him.

  Sayjin cried the panic, the cry of lost child and shook his head violently as the man hooked the collar around his neck and pulled on the rope tight.

  Sayjin felt it tighten, crushing his throat and denying him breath. The rope cut deeper and deeper into flesh.

  “Just a simple rope,” the man laughed as the storm threw the boat.

  Tears streamed from Sayjin’s eye as he hung from the tree. He looked below at the dead leaves the wind had spread them across the grey and brown ground.

  “A fitting end for one who would turn on his own,” sneered the man from below, “hang til the world is done with you.”

  Sayjin felt the rope cutting into his throat, he tried to pull breath and when did the rope cut deeper and the crushing pain caused him to scream, but he couldn’t and the rope cut deeper. The panic came and the tears flowed. Where was he? Why was he here? He didn’t have the answers.

  The time past, possibly a week, possibly more, possibly less.

  Sayjin thought of his distant friends. Where was Valtteri? Where was Nerys? Had they abandoned him to this fate or did they search the forest for him, he was in the forest, he was a room.

  Immeasurable time passed as the rope held him high above the ground. The dull sun did not move in the sky, the shadows sat frozen, long and dark below him.

  As the time moved on the rope continued to cut through his skin. He felt his skin peel as his body came apart at the neck. One by one each muscle snapped until he was held by nothing but the thinnest of tendons.

  Then in a moment, after a million others, a sickening crunch came as his body separated from his head and he fell to the hard ground. Sayjin looked at his body spewing a black ooze from the neck cavity. His tongue fell from his mouth and tasted dirt. He tried to pull the tongue back in, but it refused to obey and then Sayjin realised it, he was dead and his friends had forgotten him.

&nbs
p; Sam trotted out the white mist and started to lick the black ooze that flowed from his body. It then turned its brown eyes onto Sayjin and trotted forward.

  “Let us be, brothers,” said Sam, “I am only one left who’ll have you.”

  Sam beard its teeth and torn out Sayjin’s tongue from his mouth.

  Sayjin lurched as his body became complete again and he was back in the room.

  Above the altar stood a man looking deep into waters. He wore long, leather pants, his muscular shirtless torso a rough black, covered in scars of battle. He turned and look at Sayjin.

  “Who are you?” the man asked.

  “Horun?” asked Sayjin.

  “Well, Horun,” said the man finding his rapier by the altar, “you had better answer my questions.”

  “I’m Sayjin,” Sayjin replied finding his senses and then snatched the handle of his dagger and leapt to his feet, his body was strong again.

  A puzzled look crossed the man’s face and then he shook his head.

  “Where did you come from?” asked the man.

  “I was with a cleric… with this altar… in Douruh,” said Sayjin trying to orient himself more then give information to this man.

  “You have travelled a long way, lad.”

  “Where am I?”

  “The Sparkling Isle,” said the man turning back to the altar, ”this is a mightily, curious treasure, isn’t it?”

  “Indeed,” said Sayjin, “and your name?”

  “Captain Delaros of the Moonlit Stalkers,” said the man, “I suppose you have no sails, Reisu.”

  “No,” said Sayjin pulling out a parrying blade.

  “I hope you know how to use those,” said Delaros, looking at the weapons in Sayjin’s hands

  “Better then he you know how to use that.”

  The captain laughed.

  “Well, I do not with to die today, so let us put away our weapons talk like the high men do.”

  “Talk,” laughed Sayjin, “with a Stalker.”

  “The you have heard of us.”

  “I’m no fool.”

  Delaros laughed and lent his rapier against the altar.

  “Do you know how to use this thing?” asked Delaros turning back to the altar.

  “No,” replied Sayjin, “I had just found one myself.”

  Sayjin studied the carving of altar the Saquaari on each corner bore the same face as the one in the cave, it seemed identical at a quick glance.

  “Well, then, I suppose you best get swimmin’, lad. There’re no men of the gods to send you back, here.”

  “Where is your ship?”

  “Sunk,” smiled Delaros, “I ain’t no fool, either. You think I’m going to let a boat of Stalkers follower me here. With this I’ll be Lord of the Black, ain’t no man gunna take it from me.”

  Sayjin laughed at the mention of the mythical title and shook his head, this altar had a strange effect on the men that coveted it and Sayjin had seen enough of its madness.

  “How far are we from a dock?” asked Sayjin

  “Not far, a healthy lad like yourself should be able to make. About three mile hike east through the jungle, I’d say.”

  Sayjin nodded, his head still swam from the dream, what had Horun done to him? Whatever had happened he need to get back Douruh, he wondered how much time had passed since he had left.

  The entrance to the room was a tunnel as smooth as glass, just like the one he found in the forest. He quickly looked backed, the captain was once again staring into the water that flowed from the altar.

  Sayjin heard the sound of sea bird cawing from outside the cave as he splashed through water that flowed under foot. Eventually, he came to the mouth of the tunnel and looked out. A sheer cliff face dropped away, the sunlight washed the sea white as waves tumbled against the rock a mile below.

  “Watch your step, lad,” whispered Delaros from behind as he shoved Sayjin from the entrance.

  The wind scream past Sayjin’s ears and he fell until his head met the rocks below and his body crumpled into itself.

  Sayjin body lurched and he was in the room again. Horun was crouched over the wooden table muttering to himself.

  Sayjin rose to his feet and stormed towards the table, dagger now in hand.

  Horun turned.

  “You have your senses, again?”

  Sayjin slashed at Horun and the dagger vanished.

  “I’ll use my hands then,” growled Sayjin and took the swollen neck in hand, he felt the liquid under the skin roll and slip under his grasp.

  “Hold yourself,” shouted Horun slapping at Sayjin’s hand.

  Sayjin punched at the face.

  “Drop me at once,” yelled Horun unfazed by the blow

  Sayjin kept striking Horun with blows

  “I don’t harm you?” panted Sayjin after several.

  “No,” replied Horun, annoyed.

  Sayjin punched him again and the liquid sloshed across his face.

  “What happened to me?” yelled Sayjin.

  “A battle.”

  Sayjin pushed Horun back and the man tripped over his cloak and fell to the ground.

  “The altar is poisonous to mind of men,” said Horun from the ground, “only a few are able to survive what its effect. I sedated you so you would not harm yourself.”

  Sayjin kicked the cleric and turned away. Horun, pulled himself from the ground and rearranged his cloak.

  “It seems your mind has survived, which is more than most can say.”

  Sayjin looked at creature through its puffed grey cheeks, he could now the see colourless, cloudy eyes darting back and forth behind.

  The vision came back to him, clear and fast.

  “Are you here to help me?” asked Sayjin suddenly taken by the clouds that danced within the eye sockets.

  “With what?”

  “I don’t know… something.”

  “Yes.”

  “Who are you?”

  “Who are you?”

  “It doesn’t matter, does it?”

  “Not in the slightest.”

  “How did you survive your battle?”

  “Oh, I didn’t,” laughed Horun.

  There was a movement at the at entrance. A lone man stood in tattered clothes his face lined and old.

  “Now, they come,” said Horun quietly to Sayjin.

  “Who?” asked Sayjin.

  “I saw and I have come,” yelled the man.

  “The people,” whispered Horun.

  There was the sound of footsteps as a handful of man and woman struggled up the entrance way and emerged into the cavern. They varied in ages, all in ragged clothes covered in filth.

  “What is our way?” called a woman as she saw Horun.

  Horun stood quiet as more people made their way up the cave and into the room.

  “What is the way?” more people cried out as the cavern started to fill.

  Sayjin noticed the stone wall at the back of cave was stretching away from him to allow more to take their place in front of him. Mummers and grunts arose from the crowd as they pushed and jostled each other.

  “The last of the beasts that stalked the land are gone,” shouted Horun and a mummers came from the still growing crowd, “as we have been told.”

  “The ones who denied us,” shouted a woman from the crowd.

  “I have seen it,” shouted another man.

  “I have seen it, too,” shouted another.

  “Through the eye of the dragon,” screamed another in the back.

  “Fly and be free,” chanted the crowd.

  There was silence.

  “What have you seen?” shouted Horun to the crowd.

  “A man of gold,” shouted one.

  “He will not sit upon the throne,” shouted another.

  “But he knows who must,” shouted another.

  “Show us the way,” cried another.

  “And we will bring the light,” chanted the crowd.

  “And when it is done?”
shouted Horun.

  The crowd fell to their knees, their arms raised to the front of the room where Sayjin stood bewildered. they waited, silent and still. The sound of water swirled through the masses who filled the room.

  Horun turned to Sayjin.

  “Who will sit upon the Golden Throne, Sayjin?”

  “I never told you my name.”

  “Of course you did, don’t you remember?”

  “What madness is this?” stammered Sayjin overwhelmed.

  “The strongest.”