The Chronicles of the Apostles of Kujumanacali
The morning of the coming of the great steward was a most auspicious one. The great festivals had long since become a shadow, only memory. Lazy dogs and goblins remained sleeping in the shades of the trees, those which had risen up from the dark earth. A dreary sort of atmosphere still hung as all knew that dreadful demon remained present and dreadful as always.
Despite that Qisigu had gathered up his family members, “Juja, Sugihu, how good to see you!” They only nodded at him as the three of them mounted their horses. Sugihu looked around and commented brightly, “A beautiful day it is!” Juja nodded as well, yet commented, “Indeed, even if the dreaded demon's claws have wrapped themselves around all things.”
Qisigu only chuckled brightly at that even as Sugih's mood appeared to be brought down, “Ah, enough of that. What does it matter if we live or die?” He looked up at the dreadful sun, wretched if somehow beautiful Kabam. A horrible equal to the good Lord. “All deaths benefit him in the end. Are you not eager to see those around us who have died.” His tone turned more emotional for a moment, “I am.”
Both of them didn’t know quite how to respond to such a statement. Sugihu did manage to intercept, “Well-let's go hunting at any rate! We’ve taken long enough.” Qisigu cheerfully nodded and the three embarked in their way with their hounds and fearsome weaponry. They chatted away for some time as they saw the eyes of the ever present Huse Napasa present in the form of the beasts of the field. The trees stood up high, fearsome pillars of wood. All of which had survived the endless fearsome storms. Who knew how much longer they would survive against a demon's schemes.
Juja and Sugihu eventually whispered to one another. Juja started, seeming a mixture of fearful and tired. “I don’t know if it is simply my mind failing me. But does it seem to you that more of those creatures have gathered?” He looked around, at the winged scorpions and the curious birds and said to his cousin, “That’s part of the reason I agreed to go on this hunt. Others have complained about this.”
He sharply gritted his teeth in not truly anger but rather fear, the kind that gnaws into bones themselves, “Don’t suppose you heard about it, the few who came up only told me and Qisigu. But I think you all are right. The demon is planning something.” Juja asked, “But what?”Qisigu chuckled at that and branded his fearsome spear, that kind meant to hunt the ever-mighty boar. Ready to make a proclamation to the spirit following them.
“You coward, all you ever do is stand there and try to intimidate us. Useless wretch! You are more useless and brainless than the meanest dog, the most braindead fish!” Juja attempted to say to him, “Please, little bro-” Yet he gave up with immense speed as Qisigu didn’t even acknowledge him, “Even if you did come down to fight us, I wouldn't be scared! You are nothing but Kabams puppet in the end-and whether we live or die, we’ll serve Culiqaque.” He chuckled madly, “How little you know us and our mighty God, even after all this time!”
He stayed there chuckling for some time. Yet the beasts didn’t appear to pay him no heed. They were great in number, greater than they had been the week they hunted prior. But they didn’t care. Qisigu eventually calmed himself and joyfully said to both Juja and Sugihu, “Let’s go! We’re here to hunt after all!” They nodded, and followed behind him.
The hunt itself was an event of little note, there wasn’t any great thing which occurred. They caught the boar, a regular one which fought and died as a beast without any influence of a demon. Juja was greatly relieved at heart, and Qisigu whispered to the corpse, to himself, and to Huse Napasa, “See the strength humankind truly has. I wish this were you, Huse Napasa, defiled and humbled!”
The truly strange things of note, only occurred after the hunt had reached its end. The three of them, even Qisigu himself, were momentarily frightened as it seemed like the forest entered at war with itself, all things that moved and crawled moving one against the other, the winged scorpions setting flight against one another. The Beatles rose up against the worms. Even the birds began to desperately claw at one another with fearsome strength. Their lifeless bodies sunk into the ground, where messes of tendrils moved. It seemed as though the trees themselves bled as the oozing entity of a spirit began to leave their designated vegetal hosts.
Both Sugihu and Juja were gripped by immense fear. Juja attempted to speak, but only memories of the prior times such conflict had broken out flashed through his mind. He spoke in garbled sentences, unable to say anything. Sugihu, while momentarily terrified, soon calmed himself with logical thought, “It is alright,” he muttered to himself, and then more loudly proclaimed, “It is all alright! This is but a small skirmish between Huse Napasa and some nameless demon. Only on this little spot of the forest” He chuckled in a forced sort of manner, and Juja finally joined, “W-why this was nothing but a weightless spook!”
Qisigu nodded and in a disappointed sort of manner said, “So will it be. You’re most likely right.” Truly, he must admit he desired for either obliteration or an act of genuine communication from the divine. Not to the world through the stars, but to him. A selfish sort of desire, but one which he could not burn out. He knew, though, most likely neither thing would come.
The fear slowly started to mount within both Sugihu and Juja as they kept walking. The forest unfurled before them like a scroll. But truly, it seemed as though the inkwell had spilled. It was full of destroyed carcases of insects, of birds and even some mammals they found every once in a while. The active combat continued as bugs attempted to devour one another. They ended up leaving the boar as countless arthropods wiggled into it and made it a nest, a massacre, a site of battle. The eyeballs burst under the weight of a hundred mandibles, the skin unraveled to reveal the flesh underneath. They finally let go of the thing, and let it wriggle there. The trees are bloody remnants of Huse Napasa, that dark black melting goop which oozed out of countless plants.
“By the good Lord,” Sugihu whispered, driven to his wits end and shaking like a leaf, “What is going on? There were no great warnings or ultimatums, it makes no sense-why would it have escalated to such widespread conflict.” He scratched himself to the point of drawing blood, “Why, why, why,” Juja appeared, somehow, in a way, entirely calm, “What does it matter? We were fools to take a demon seriously. Although I think something greater than Huse Napasa is here.” Sugihu turned his head up to see him but recoiled once he saw the utterly devastated look in his cousin's eyes.
“We’re dead. We’re all going to die in this. Maybe Nolina came to do to us what her brother did not!” Sugiu said all this in a quivering tone. He chuckled dryly and softly, “What can we do?” Qisigu looked around at the carnage and appeared, above all other things, triumphant. Ascendant. “Nothing!” He cheerfully said, “It is all in the hands of the good Lord!”
He looked around and appeared ecstatic, “I think it is going to send a blight after this, you’re correct, it most likely is Nolina, and we’ll all starve.” He scratched himself, “I would hope it was one of the Qese Rilu, but we all know how foolish that thought it was!” His horse ended up scratched with some thorns, but strangely none of the creatures came close even though the battle was going down. Nevertheless, he barely even slowed that down and continued, “This was the work of a mighty demon, like Nolina.” He made a comment, “It wasn’t an even battle-it was a massacre.”
He looked at the sky adoring, before turning at the forest with hatred but respect, and back again to heaven, “I’ll fight you in heaven soon enough, Kabam, soon enough. When will you realize all your actions are to our benefit!” This somber kind of mood hit the three of them. Juja appeared to have seen death and while not desiring death was no longer capable of going against it. Sugihu desperately attempted to convince himself none of what occurred around him truly was true. Qisigu had fallen to a strange sort of logic.
….
The Chronicles of Kujumanacali
Things were not much better back at the settlement. Everything had started pleasantly enough, the dreadful sun providing warmth for all things. People were on edge but they fulfilled their own labors, not having ended in spite of the harvest season, so brutal that it was, finally coming to an end. There were three times more guards settled around the corn than there usually were, even though they all knew their meager spears couldn’t damage the spirit if it possessed a cloud of locusts or sent a blight its way.
The farmer and raiser of chickens, Rruluro Qiniri, said that he had been resting within a mat on the floor. He was enjoying the quiet wind that battered him as he slept close to his granddaughter before the sun showed her face. A voice dreadfully whispered in his ears, “Inane fool! You know not of the joy and grief that awaits your people. But sleep! Sleep ever onward.” He’d grown accustomed to such dreams, yet they still troubled him. That demon, he supposed, delighted in tormenting those who couldn’t defend themselves whispering as they slept.
That morning he tried to act as though all was normal, helping his granddaughter, Sujihu Gigo fulfill their daily duties, the cooking of meals, even though he was nowhere near as capable as when she only reached up to his knees. “You can rest, grandfather,” she sweetly yet firmly said to him, “I’m older now, I’m fourteen. I can take care of you now. Rest.” Eventually he nodded and went away. Sometimes he doubted he was even of any help in such things.
As they ate she, having known him since she was very little, asked him, “Something wrong, grandfather?” After he took too long to say, “Of course not, of course not Sujitha.” She looked worriedly out of the window, and in a sorrowful manner said, “I know you, grandfather. That demon bothers you more often than not.” After he stayed silent she apologized, ”I’m sorry I mocked you the first time it happened. Please, talk to me.” Not having the heart to say anything to her, most disturbed by how succinct and to the point the message had been compared to its usual speeches, he said, “It is nothing, it is nothing.” So he hoped.
…
Qasipeqi hadn’t been doing much of note when the forest erupted into a terrible battle with itself. He’d been watching over the sheep, who devoured the drier but still present grasses with great joy and in vast abundance. He liked the job, reasonably so. It gave him time to think, which at times was unbearable but which he found pleasing at the moment.
It was a quiet afternoon, Kabam shone with her ever-terrible strength upon them all. Even in autumn, the sun-baked land remained rather warm. The birds joyfully sang, the grass peaceably grew, grasshoppers hung around and battled one another with songs.
All at once, like a gun whose powder ends up burning abruptly and erupts with terrible strength, the forest erupted into terrible war. The bugs began to fly and move, from terrible flying scorpions to tiny maggots. Mighty beasts began to tear at one another, many in number, if not great in size.
“By the great god Culiqaque!” he let fly as he abruptly stood up, “What is happening!?” He spent a single moment incapable of movement, as though stuck by terrible lighting, but a terrible bleat from the sheep ran out, pulling him out of his brain. He attempted to run over to it, he knew it was a lame one with a kind of disease. As though drawn to its weakness, the terrible insects and birds gathered and tore it alive, its blood spilling into the ground as the insects crawled into its warm flesh.
With a sorry bleat, it fell over, having perished with quickness by the overwhelming poison. With a terrible yell he called out to his flock, good shepherd that he was, “Come, come and follow me!” He waved his staff around the air even if he knew it was of no use. Scaring a wolf or one of the feathered bipeds was one thing, they had cunning and a desire for life. But he knew it from his great uncle's stories; this was a battle of demons. Nothing other than empty shells stood there. Their host's life was but a dream for those demons.
They appeared to stay away from the strong and healthy animals. Nevertheless, all he could feel was fear. They followed him as he ran through the well-worn paths. He was shocked for a moment as he felt something black, neither like water nor like honey, moresoe like fresh blood, falling from the tree tops. It appeared as though the forest itself was bleeding, and as the trees were moved by the wind, those around the dirt path. Even though it may be his mind playing tricks on him, it appeared like the trees themselves were gasping in pain.
His heart beat so fast he thought it might burst from his chest and go galloping away. Yet he still ran. That fear grew even moresoe as he beheld a pair of ram-looking things locking horns with one another. They only resembled rams in the same way a tadpole resembles a fish. They were engaged in a fearful competition. Oozing blood cloaked one more than the other. He struggled to keep running even as he heard a voice from one of them, “Help me, I beg you. This can’t be! he-” The voice was cut short and so he ran, not finding within himself the bravery to look back.
By the great gods grace most of his sheep remained alive, still kicking and moving with him. “How?” he asked himself, and soon shook his head. Perhaps the demons were like wolves and the feathered bipeds, picking at the very weakest and most miserable prey. He offered a quick prayer to the Qese Rilu, one which wasn’t elegant. It was born out of the utmost desperation, “Please-please. Protect me. Project us,” he added quickly enough, “If it goes to your will. Please, it's just-just-” he continued, with only some strength, “I should be stronger, less sentimental. But…we don't want to die.”
He entered the town, which seemed to be engaged in absolute madness. Men, women, and children alike ran around, from place to place. Only the wretched Kabam herself could’ve known what was occurring at that time for certain. Everyone whispered, went to and fro. The corpse of a calf was sprayed out in front of the holy tree, guts like great and twisting eels all around it and the blood spraying the ground, at least some of it.
A great mass of people were found in the town square. There were less than there normally came to ceremonies, but their disorganized aspect made it seem far greater. Like a whirlpool. An old woman, a migrant to the town by the name of Qereju Qejuniqose gripped his brown arm with terrible strength. “You are here, noble one.” With her terrible eyes she stared at his very soul, “Where is Qisigu?” He struggled to come up with an appropriate response, debating whether to tell the truth, an assertion or an outright lie. The former won, “I don’t know, I-.” With that she bellowed out, “Qisigu is dead!” And the people already agitated, began to further whisper and yell to one another, like a headless chicken.
He glared at the old woman, and in a fearful tone said, “He is not dead. He-he can’t be. Why are you riling them up so much!?” The woman struck him with a terrible wooden staff, causing him great pain. He only barely held himself from attacking her with his own staff in return, but his chivalry persevered. “Quiet, young man, you need to learn how to think. If you haven’t seen him out there, all signs point to his death.” He wondered what in the name of all things was wrong with that violent woman's brain, and therefore blotted out anything worthwhile from her words. Only his parents could strike him if they so choose. He attempted to scream out, “Everyone, calm yourselves! ”He was interrupted both by another hit from the staff and a foreign merchant Maja Manani who said to them all, “You fools! They’re dead-and soon we will be too! Why waste our last moments?”
A response came from one of the other members of the town, a younger one, “Why? Why? Are we trees? We must stand and battle until our time has come-we come from a warrior tribe!” Hoots of agreement resounded. Maja laughed and said to them all, “You think this is fighting. Penani Nolina hasn’t come to do battle with us-she came to transplant herself here.” Someone else said, “Can you even be certain it is Nolina.” He snarled and said, “This is her brothers, her victims land, is it not? Her soldiers will come to take. Then she’ll slaughter all who remain through plague and famine. That’s how great demons fight.”
Silence and rage abounded in the populace. A woman, the same Qereju said to the population which simultaneously grieved and raged with unheard of power. “Wait,” she croaked to them all, “Wait.” Since nobody listened to her she picked up once more the great big staff and began beating all who stood in her way with it. Groans of pain and blood oozed out. Hence she obtained silence. “About time you fools started listening to me,” she said, grumbling, deaf to the cries and pleas, “I come from another town-one destroyed by Qejonu long ago. He did the same to us as his sister is now doing here. I was one of the girls stolen by the soldiers as part of their loot-took me years to go free. There is a way to survive this ordeal, if not in body then in spirit.”
A sense of recollection was seen in the native elders, those who remembered the ages prior to the purges, long before Qisigus uncle reached the holy seat, she continued on, “A young woman without physical or mental defect must be picked. She is to be off-” A man cut her off with spitting rage, “You inane fool! Have you forgotten that we have no priest-not even any from the properly pure bloodline! Your plan will only multiply our sufferi-” He was cut off with great fury as she rammed his face with a terrible staff that moved his flesh and made a great lump on him. He went out crying like a child, “My tooth!, M-m-” With a mock movement of the staff he left whimpering without word
She appeared bitter at that but soon continued, “Is it not through suffering that the world goes round? The good Lord bleeds, dies and burns for us-ever and ever. A priest kills people mercifully, a broken neck, a quick decapitation, a slit of a throat.” She smiles greatly, “But my tribe were servants of the good lord since before the first Ojotillas enacted their terrible plan and traded one evil out for another. Back in the old covenant, before the Seven Wandering stars joined in heaven, it was not so-”
A child screamed out at her before his mother could shut him up, “Get to the point you stupid old woman!” She looked at him with merely a glare that made him curl up into himself at the terrible things which occurred. His mother dragged him aside. She smiled widely, “Very well. We must bury a young woman alive. Her pain will make her our holy guide, burn out her sin.” Murmurs rang out in between the crowd, some pleased and understanding and others in disbelief. She snarled at all of them, “Have you fools forgotten the horrible ways the good Lord had died for us, broken on wheel, hanged on the cross, starved of hunger, frozen in the cold.” She calmed herself and thereafter explained, “So we must suffer for him. The girl will die clawing alone in the darkness, as Culiqaque during his fall. Only then will our spirits. Survive, though the living will never know.” The spirits of the dead are incapable of communicating with those of the living, thus why necromancy is but a chimeric farce.
There were murmurs within the crowd as people began to furiously argue amongst themselves. Qasipeqi would’ve spoken but the old woman once more hit him with the staff, another pained groan leaving him as the attention had shifted away from her. Few saw and none cared. “Silent, young man, until I say so. You aren’t yet grown, noble one.” Oblivious to this, a murmur came from the native elders of the town, who said to them, “She is telling the truth.” Silence fell over them for some time, “It is said the great saint himself saw it done when he was but a child.” Another elder said, “The texts were lost before the last priest came on, but we remember.” A final voice said, “Let us pray the good Lord takes our intent into account.” In spite of themselves, all couldn’t find it but to say or at least think by instinct, “May it be so.”
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A great debate occurred, everyone crying out to each other, some proclaimed, “Qisigu isn’t dead! At least wait for him!” The old woman Qereje shook her head and spoke out, “They aren’t priests. It would matter naught. Although he is most certainly dead. We need to hurry.” a man shook his head and said to them all, “You all are fools! More demons are among us than I had first assumed!” At last the old woman said to them all, ignoring that last comment, “Who would offer herself to the great Lord, he who has made the world and given us all things?”
Yet, she was met with silence. Resoundingly so. None came forward, all appeared to wait for others to advance. Her face began to turn with rage and indignation of the very highest quality, pure and unfiltered emotion. Before anything could be said a voice came out, that of Gigos, “I’ll go.” The rooster vendor took some moments to process such words, that old Qiniri.
He looked at the girl beside him. Her words repeated themselves in his ears. Endlessly so. He grabbed hold of her and hugged her tightly just as she began to walk, falling down but holding on ever strongly, “NO! No, no, no, you won’t go. Don’t be a fo-” A great amount of people, arms without faces to him grabbed ahold of him and pulled him back with great strength. He attempted to move forward, but what is a single man against the many?
“I’m sorry,” she said, smiling at her grandfather, “We’ll see each other once more in the heavens. I’ll make sure of it.” The rest of the ceremony was a blur to him as he stood on the floor, restrained, struggling until his old body betrayed him and didn’t provide him strength. He vaguely remembers yelling, yelling, but he isn’t sure of when it was he who yelled and when others did so.
The old woman nodded solemnly and took the young woman's hand within hers, fourteen to sixty four, a rift of forty years standing between the two women. Both heading to death in their own ways, in their own time. “We thank you. The good Lord smiles upon you.” A man from the crowd muttered, “But without a priest!?” She glared at him, and he went quiet. “There are many small villages without priests,” she continued, “The good Lord has accounted for the necessity of human sacrifices.” The elders, the heads of the greatest families nodded in solemn agreement.
“Do you all see,” the woman muttered to them. By this point most had come to accept the necessity of a sacrifice, seeing as no such burial had yet taken place. Even Qejonu had made explicit that he didn't wish to eliminate the former subjects of such an honorable tribe. But the destruction of a reasonably mighty deity with such haste couldn’t be ignored. It was her, and Nolina was not sentimental. Qereje now made a sign with her hands, Qasipeqi coming. She said to him, gripping him with her wrinkled brown hand, “Say some prayers. and talk with the sacrifice-those duties you can do. You may answer.‘ He nodded and said, “I will.” Her grin widened and she gestured to him to continue with it.
The ceremony itself was nothing of very great note, a box was brought to house the sacrifice to the good Lord, to be buried in a sacred place. A hole to breathe from was made, so as to prolong the process and create the maximum amount of suffering for the sacrificial victim. Those who didn’t participate in the creation of the thing could do nothing, nothing other than watch as the instrument of death was woven into existence.
“Hello,” he commented to her, “Will you give your steadfast life to the great Culiqaque?” She nodded upon seeing him and said, “Of course. Someone has to do it, why not me?” He nodded once more, before looking glumly at the ground. He casted a lot of prayers to the great god Culiqaque in front of the young woman. Soon enough he asked, “Do the best you can once you ascend.” She looked at him and said, “The good Lords will be done.”
He nodded at that soon enough, “Indeed.” After a moment he commented, “You’re brave. Very, very brave. I don’t think I could do what you did.” She didn’t seem to know how to respond to that, so it seemed to him. “Someone has to do it,” she repeated, “Might as well be me. I’m just… worried for my grandfather.” She looked at him with a sort of desperation in her soft brown skin and eyes, “I know we aren’t awfully close, we’re only barely friends, but could you watch over him?” She looked at the floor, “I’m sure he won’t exactly be joyous when I die. He grieved greatly when your grand-uncle died.”
In a more sudden she said to him, “Only if you can, of course.” He looked at her and slowly nodded, “It is the least that I can do.” The old woman Qereje said to them all, “It is done! Come with me, things will start and go soon.”
It went by awfully quickly, but to Qasipeqi it felt as though time had stretched itself out as far as it could, a few minutes into an eternity. He said the holy words, the myriad blessings, public rather than the prior personal ones. He couldn’t help but feel pity, horror and a sort of disgust as her very flesh was nailed to the wooden walls of the box turned coffin. “You know we have to do it, young man.” Qereju didn’t appear furious for once, and all he could do was nod.
The wretched sun looked upon them all with its hateful glare, ever watchful, ever horrible. Soon, one of its spawn would level that town to the ground and slaughter its inhabitants with its people. Soon enough.
…
Sanu Nepe’s Journal
The old man was dragged with great force as they approached that wretched place we called home. “Hurry up!” I cheerfully said to him, “Be merry! You are about to be reborn!” The old man's fire hadn’t yet been smothered, but it was certainly more limited than it had been before, chained up and muted like a caged, starving dog. Yes, I think that is fitting. He followed us like one after all.
Relino and Juja, while their senses were nowhere near on par a fearsome deity could tell something seemed off. Relino spoke up, “The forest smells rather curious.” Huse Napasa refuted quickly enough, “Oh, that little project of your lot has spread all around. I’ve let it do so-It’ll give it more credibility.” I chuckled at that, perhaps laughed like a child.
“What is so funny to you?” So she questioned me. I responded after a moment with sternness, “Nothing which would cause you joy.” It appeared not to care much and kept guiding us. She commented, wishing to start useless talk, “That god is about to finally awake, eh?” Pipo was the one to talk now, “Yes! I don’t fully understand the whole framework if I am honest, our knowledge is only rudimentary.”
For once, I decided to be honest, “Most necromancers are only known as you. Maybe less. I am glorious, and I was allowed to pick the greatest of your generation.” I felt in a good mood at that moment. Relino appeared doubtful and in a tone which was meant to be innocuous said, “Surely they can’t recognize it at that age.” I only chuckled, choosing not to take it to heart, “How little you know the glories of our homeland! Perhaps we’ll return to it one day.” I smiled at that. My hope of becoming a Lich has previously gone from a dream to a more realistic sort of plan, but now I realized it could perhaps be made into a genuine reality. The weight of that only just began to sink in. As a god, there would be much more I could do. I could transcend the limits of humanity, triumph against even death.
I’d always hated how they played with even the grandest humans as though we were naught but toys. But with how delighted I was in being a master, I knew it would feel very different to be the one wielding all the terrible power. I barely remembered the authority I once wielded, but I would far exceed it soon enough. “We’re here,” so did Huse Napasa take me out of my thoughts, “Do that quaint little ritual of yours, my dear friend.”
That made me smile. How little that spirit truly understood the extent of my power. I assumed my lower estimates of the deities might be correct, but even that should be enough to triumph over that being. It was only a gross mediocrity in all ways. “I’ll get right to it.” I mocked the old man, who by now had primarily sunk into a quiet sort of rage, “Your mind is about to die. Another one will soon puppeteer your body. What do you have to say?”
He nodded, hatred simply spewing from all of his eyes, “Give me a little bit of time, if you will, I have a lot to say.” I nodded and cheerfully said to him, “Of course! Let not a single weight on your chest!” Only hatred was evident as he looked at me, “All of my life I have tried to live according to the teachings of the mighty Ojotillas and of the true patrons of our people. The great gods, Gigo Rrere, Qejonu, Penani Nolina, the Tamer of the Flame, Melolo Migeru. Mighty gods.” He snarled at Huse Napasa, “She may have many sins bearing on her back, but at least Nolina knows how to act when it comes to the heretics and Infidels.”
It didn’t say anything to him, but its avatars appeared none too pleased by all of that, and clawed at the bark of mighty trees. “I have tried to defend the systems they set in place. But I see now why our society is failing,” he chuckled for the first time I’ve seen him do such a thing, “How can the flock survive when its leaders, my town's patron deity, that disgusting dragon, you, Huse Napasa, care nothing for them? Using a trio of Infidel madmen to kill me?” He spat at the ground, “I hate you. I hate all of you. The Ojotillas never came to a consensus, but if we do have souls.” He looked at all of us with a fearsome glare and with an unhappy tone said to us all, “I will lurk behind all of you, and I will ensure your bloodlines meet every misfortune that is possible. I can imagine no future worse than this-to become an empty shell for a foreign deity.”
He appeared to stare at the mighty trees. I said to him cheerfully, “Are you done, my good man.” he spat out, “Indeed, madman. Do your deed.” My smile grew wide, as I pulled back my lips like an ape does to reveal a wide and joyous smile. “Excellent! Pipo, Relino, I’ve told you two what you ought to do.” Without further ado they grabbed the man with furious strength and made him taste the earth. With some tools we’d left there, they secured him to the ground. Like a corpse being staked or restrained by superstitious people who don’t understand just how a spirits or vampires power works and believe they can grab any rotting body for their purposes.
I picked the holy dagger, cutting myself with a good vein on the arm, far away from key tendons, and letting the blood into the dark earth. Another cut I made for the body of the old man in the same place was a small one. Dark tendrils rose up soon enough, awoken by the blood I spilled. I was its maker, though the spirit may not know it consciously, I had woven into it strict orders as to what I ought to do. Huse Napasa asked me, “Don’t you need to give it any orders?”
I chuckled, “It knows what it ought to do. I am the grandest Necromancer of my generation. All is accounted for.” It remained silent after that. The process was in a way both slow and fast. The man agonizingly screamed as the dark black tendrils wormed their way into him slowly, something neither plant nor animal, thin and inuman yet carrying unthinkable power and an ancient tradition within them.
He began begging after the pain began to dull down, before it once more became powerful, “Please! Please! The pain-just-just make it stop! I said to him with a tinge of sympathy, one of the few I would give him, “Don’t worry, you’re already dead. None can save you. You’re wasting your time.”. It continued even more scared and desperate,” I was wrong! You are glorious! What do you want me to say! Just-just….m-make it stop.” I responded to it comfortingly enough, in a factual manner, “Soon enough the pain will become too great for you to think about it. Then, you won’t be able to think at all. Your body will no longer be yours.”
Tears left his eyes, and, soon enough, the whole ordeal appeared to have come to its zenith. The man's muscles stopped twitching, the eyes stopped crying, it all became quiet and cold in spite of the warmth the great sun so mercifully and magnanously provided us. Only I dared speak, “Come, come, son of mine! Oh, great and mighty sun, the heavenly form of the one true emperor that rules on earth, maker of the cosmos, bring me eternal glory through him!”
Of course, my creation didn’t hear, but I hoped the Emperor, the Sun, eternal and boundless that he was would. The limbs twitched for a second, so short it could almost be mistaken for a dream. But soon enough, it proved itself real and tangible as the action was repeated, as the wrinkled old limbs began to move and activate, like a puppet lifted into the hollow stage by the puppeteer, prepared for a show. My mouth parted slowly into a wide smile.
I removed the tools Pipo and Relino had pressed into the ground to restrain the sacrifice. I then made a signal with my hands to both Pipo and Relino who went down to the ground as I did. Our limbs hugged the ground, our clothes began dirtier and wetter than they had already been and our heads too touched it. The creature moved automatically with the things that I had instilled into it, remaining there on the ground silently breathing before standing up. I couldn’t see it, but the order of events was easy to make out with what we heard.
“Worshippers,” it said to us without further ado some moments thereafter, “Rise. The good Lord has sent you one of his sons. Your prayers have been answered.” I did so dutifully and think I managed to capture a feeling of awe within my face. Pipo and of course accursed Relino somehow managed to make a better one. Nevertheless, I asked, “What is your name, great one?” He smiled at us in a sweet sort of manner, like a father looking at his children, and said to us the name I’d given to him, “Kujumancali, glory of the morning star. Sanu Nepe, that is the name the great Lord has picked for me.”
The spirit held the body of the man, that body which now belonged to it entirely, in a far more dignified way than that man could ever achieve. Like a fearsome king, and indeed, the god that it was. “Now, as to deal with you, demon.” It pointed to Huse Napasas multiple hosts, the great fungal mind being set into proper consciousness by the human spark I had instilled within it.
The spirit didn’t appear to care much, and in an unsurprising manner said to my god, speaking to it as though it was nothing but a toy or a child. “Now, now,” it said to my god, “You won’t succeed. Go on your way, missionary, your strength is hollow. Leave me to my devices and I shall leave you to yours.” I couldn’t discern any expression on my god's face for a moment, but it soon smiled widely, as if not pained by the bruises on any part of its body or face. It laughed, and kept on laughing.
“Weak? I’m afraid you ought to look in the mirror. At any rate; you have held this place long enough. I am not the same kind of deity as the one that accompanied Sini Naqihu.” My god began to communicate in the strange sort of manner which I know much about but which I can never access so long as I am mortal. It is still based on sound; but different kinds of sound than that common to the human language. Huse Napasa had made some tweaks to the man as he had slept, painful but hasty, to make him capable of accessing it.
All at once the forest erupted into blatant chaos as a myriad of creatures jumped in the same sort of humm that we received, one which even I could only barely pick up noise. Never since I had come into this town had the gods stirred each other in combat to a degree even I could hear their secret voice. Huse Napasa arrogantly said, “I'll admit I didn’t think you had actually successfully claimed all those creatures of mine. I thought more of your possessions had failed. But soon enough you’ll learn to respect me, you inane fool.”
It wasn’t all that prolonged, but it soon became clear who had the upper hand in the conflict as it appeared that the creatures Huse napasa utilized were far, far outnumbered and organized in a less noble manner. Their poison had no effect on my god, while Huse Napasa’s hosts fell in scores. It was as if comparing the brutish movements of a blind child to the fearsome punches of a well-trained adult. Yet that was not what caused Huse Napasa fear and repulsion. Rather, that occurred when the trees themselves began to bleed, the thick black fungi dissolving and uncoiling as it fell down onto the black earth.
“This, this is impossible!” It screeched out, genuine fear lacing its tone, as I’d seen men sent to the gallows, not even fit for consumption by the gods. “Even the spirit that aided St. Sini Naqihu couldn’t make me bleed!” It was cut silent as the living corpse which had bellowed out such words was torn apart by a mass of flying scorpions. My god stood in the center of the entire ordeal, standing proudly and calmly as though this meant nothing. “Soon enough, there will be nothing left of you, daughter of Kabam. Perish and be silent, no longer haunt us thus.”
The body of a small mammalian creature it possessed spoke somehow both quiet and mighty, “How…h-how- could I be bested….. by a-ah, a mere toy. Of all things! I will fight till my last breath!” A living corpse even I didn’t know it had possessed descended down. Its wings were like the great sails of a boat, it's terrible beak like a fearsome spear. It descended over Huse Napasas mammalian creature, the size of a goblin or dog, and blood gurgled from the hole made in its throat. My god tore off some of its flesh before its human part calmly said to the few remaining hosts it had in this clearing.
“Very well, demon. It won’t take more than an hour or two to rend you apart.”
…
The Chronicles of Kujumanacali
A shrill voice, that of a child, broke through the silence, “Qisigu isn’t dead! Qisigu isn’t dead!” The people who found themselves employed in their attempt to bring the coffin, complete with the sacrificial victim within it as the old woman Qereje assured them was necessary, were none too pleased by that. “Don’t spread such lies child!”
“They aren’t lies! I really saw him, and Juja and Sugihu too!” Qereju Qejunicose, the old woman soon said to him in a blood-curlingly angry tone, “Child, do you even think about what you’re saying! Inane fool! How else other than Nolina do you explain such an absolute destruction of that demon? Do you suppose Nolina wouldn’t kill them?” The boy appeared dumbfounded by the anger and didn’t respond. Taking this as a victory the old woman proceeded to ignore the child even as a pair of strong middle-aged men began to drag him away. He resisted but his continued cries to support his prior claim were entirely ignored by the woman, and indeed, by all present within the entire place.
Shortly thereafter the crowd dispersed as the sound of horse hooves began to echo from the streets closest to the town. “It is that demon's cavalry!” multiple voices resounded in such calls, “We are all dead!” Othes repeated, “Dead! Dead! We are dead!” A somewhat hopeful Qasipeqi muttered to a displeased Qereju, “If they are calvary, it doesn’t sound like a lot of them are there.” She didn't dignify the young man with even a singular response, only striking him in a manner that seemed like an accident.
Everybody gasped though, as the shape of the three began to be clear. The crowds were dispersed by the large and powerful horses each as imposing as a pair of fearsome mountains. “What,” Qisigu asked them all, “are you all screaming about?” One of the men pointed to him and with absolute terror said to him, “How are you here!? Ghost! Living Corpse! Are you not dead?” Qisigu blinked in surprise and in a mocking way asked, “Do I seem to you like a living corpse, a demonic puppet?” He chuckled but upon seeing the genuine terror on everyone's faces he realized the situation's weight. He took out a knife and stabbed a vein on himself, one far away from any key tendons.
“Tell me, all of you,” he asked in a calm way, “Would one of those demons willingly suffer pain? I am alive, a servant of the good lord, in both body and spirit.” He made a sign to those behind him and Sugihu split both his own blood and that of Juja before they got off their horses. That helped to ease the tension that hung on everybody's shoulders, but the fear still lurked powerfully. Choking them as the forest creatures and spirits that crawl and sit on a person's chest in the dark of night. Horrible pranks they were.
Qasipeqi went down and speedy like a dove hugged his father. He wasn’t capable of holding back a few tears, “I thought you were… dead.” The sheer terror and emotion in his voice left him dumbfounded. All Juja could do in response was pat the young man on the shoulders. He composed himself, “What-what happened?” Juja attempted to respond to his son, but failed. “We don’t know either,” that was what Sugihu said to him in a defeated kind of tone, “All we can do is guess.”
While that went on, all the attention was shifted to Qisigiu, who went on to see the rite, “Now, what is going on. You, your name was Qereje wasn’t it?” The woman bowed before him, “Of course, noble one. I’ll explain.” She invited him to look unto the sacrificial victim whose blood had by now somewhat clotted. “Surely, great one, you have seen the terrible battle that was waged and won by the foreign power.” After a moment she added, “The foreign one won didn’t it?” He nodded slowly, and said in a tone of attempted bravado, “You know it's always hard to tell, but yes, it seemed so.”
They nodded, “At any rate, we assume that to be fearsome Nolina. She is closest to us and is surely hungering for this land. We think her troops will soon arrive to defile us all. We can do nothing for our flesh, but with this sacrifice of pain, we want to make her holy. She can help us. You’ve heard about this rite, I assume?” He nodded at her, and grimly said, “I’d hoped we would never have to use it, but yes my uncle taught us about it.” He looked down and asked the girl, “You, Pupe Huna, would you consent to give your life through pain to serve Culiqaque and aid our spirits in death?” The consent of the sacrificed is of utmost importance for the good Lord, that they accept their death.
She, in an amount of time he thought sufficient, answered, “I would.” In spite of the pain. Qisigu bowed and said, in a simple way which carried unimaginable strength and humble emotion, “We thank you.” And so he ordered, “Everything is in order! Let us go; I may not have seen that wretched Nolina but I am sure she is there.” He nodded, “We may not be able to save our bodies; but our spirits will go ever onward. Volunteers to help carry the sacrifice?”
Many came forward, from young and strong men to older ones who still retained some of their youthful glory. Sugihu went to organize the music once more, and a somber melody went with them as a majority of the people went behind them, both of the pure and impure bloodlines without any matter as to that.
They went to a place outside of the town, a place which had marks of previously having grown great plants of maize. He said to them all, “It’s been well over a decade since a human sacrifice was last performed.."He looked away and said, “I am sure this wretched deity will come to finally fulfill her brother's ultimatum. So let us hurry and get it done.”
Qisigu said some simple prayers, “May the great god Culiqaque one day triumph over Kabam! Let this Hakasa Qapi, this offering to the earth, go through! Let that wretched Penani Nolina one day meet the same horrible fate as her disgusting brother! Let all the spawn of Kabam be destroyed and torn asunder! Let this world be met with obliteration so that the world may be cleansed off its terrible, and horrible rulers! Endless suffering to them! May we all dutifully serve the great god Culiqaque in lofty heaven and ensure this comes to pass. What are bodies but receptacles of the spirit?”
Once those words came through a mighty sound was heard flying through the air. Shocked gasps were heard as a terrible and gigantic creature came through, with the beak of a bird and the wings of mighty bats. With its beak it sped straight through the sacrifice as the brain was crushed and impaled, blood and life leaving all the same. Qisigu staggered back, surprised and fearful in all manners.
It uttered like fearsome thunder, “The great god Culiqaqu accepts your glorious sacrifices, humans.” Qisigu staggered back and brandished a knife, proclaiming to it, “Stand back fearsome spirit! I will not die without a fight, as a martyr ought to.” The great creature kept consuming the intestines of the dead sacrifice and as it did so said, “I am afraid you misunderstand, I am the answer of your lord to your prayers.” Many went quiet as a voice came from within the crowd, that of a bruised old man, as they both continued, “I am one of the Qese Rilu, a mighty one at that, come to deliver you from the hands of the Infidels.”
Qisigu stood proudly and proclaimed, riling up the spirits of the crowd present, “Why are we to believe your word? Lying spawn of Kabam! To demons we may die but we will first tear as many hosts of yours to pieces as we can.” It uttered in a deep, rolling voice counteracting with the aged one of the human and beastial corpses it made move, “Good, good, excellent. The great god Culiqaque picked your tribe for their fearsomeness.”
The fearsome winged pterosaur stabbed itself with its own fearsome beak and blood began to ooze and flow out of it in a swirling river. The man grabbed a knife of his own and stabbed himself in the tongue. The sacrifice of divine blood oozed down from its own being under the watchful gaze of wretched Kabam and Culiqaque external ears. Everyone appeared to be calmed down somewhat by the pious sight.
Both the human and pterosaur part spoke as it continued, “Good worshippers, the time of change draws near. Test when you can, for while few demons can willingly harm themselves, not all can.” Qisigu heard this and appeared to prepare machinations within his mind. Unfazed by all those present, Kujumanacali tore and devoured the raw flesh, calmly commenting, “What a good sacrifice, although an offering to the earth is unnecessary with me here, her flesh will suffice without suffering. I will make it holy.”
Kujumancali moved his bloodied hand to shake hands with the glorious Qisigu. Qisigu obliged but still eyed the fearsome being in front of him warily, “We will, fearsome spirit. Do know, there is no greater sin than false impersonation of the knowledge of the divine. If you lie, we will cut you to pieces while still alive as one who guesses the eclipse incorrectly.” Kujumancali smiled cheerily and laughed as the other living corpse it possessed stood like a ghost or shadow. “As it should be, as it should be.”
He walked off the stage with an air of monarchy and nobility imbued within him, “I’ll be in the streets, anyone who wishes to see me can ask anything which they desire.” Yet at that exact moment everyone was much too fearful and overwhelmed. That fearsome creature kept walking without giving any of them the time of day. Qisigu muttered to himself,
“Everything is so confusing. At least I can make out something large is brewing.”
