AdurArshaam - Labyrinth
< Shifting
The Hour of Repent passed as smoothly as the turning of a well oiled wheel and as highest of the Blessed Crimson it fell upon me to lead the Colours in repentant prayer. The Rikyatal'mas was taken in silence, but it was I, Keeper of the Sacred Fires, who would lead the lowly in the Taradyum.
The dark shadow of night was fast approaching, the spinning wheels of the Circle slowing as the sun began its descent in the sky. Soon, the Ritual of Rest would be called for, and our Blessed light would be eased once more into the non-existence of Sleep. It was necessary of course, for Our Light grew weaker throughout the day, Her exalted purity sullied by the cloying filth of humanity around us. Most Blessed and divine of spirits was She, to absolve all of our sin by collecting it unto Herself.
I allowed myself a rare half-smile. When morning's light returned, She would be reborn anew, like the sun emerging from the dark waters of night beneath the rim of the world.
I walked unhurried along the darkening corridors, Iysarav breathed and settled, at peace with the order that I maintained. Now, in the rarest of moments when I could think freely, unburdened by the heavy shadows of my brethren, my thoughts returned to that morning, and the events within the Alexiamous Heart.
Dustande
Why did the name cling to me so? Why, in the solitude of my own thoughts, did it burden me with its pall? The creature was like all the others, a devoted mortal come to serve Her, nothing more than a minute grain of rice amongst the thousand!
It meant nothing.
The Rite of The Seven was upon us, and I was needed within the Hall of Divinity— the Spine—as I had heard many of the lowly Ardazem call it. My lip curled in distain, how dare they sully such a place with a name so crass! Still, their elders were quick to silence any who continued with the name longer than their first year.
The crimson shadows of my brethren emerged from the darkness behind me. I did not need to turn to feel them there, called to me like fragments of parchment within the currents of a river. It was a time of silence, the darker shadows of the Avarai already waiting within the long expanse of the hall, beaten bowls and platters of copper and gold laden with the sacrificial meat and fruits required.
Even with none there to witness the most intimate of rituals, I knew that all must be carried out with calm cool precision. A single step from the path of order could lead to unavoidable chaos. The Seven Lords of Light must be acknowledged, their shattered devoured spirits paid homage, for how could something divine truly die?
The first platter was laden with fish, caught fresh from the rivers and seas, the second: meat, from the beasts of the land. The third: held maize and grains, grown through the blessing of our Light, the fourth: fruits from the trees ripened by the sun. Upon the fifth were lain birds from the sky, the sixth bearing roots and tubers from beneath the earth. The seventh bowl, contained that which was most precious of all, the blood of man, collected through the bleeding of one from each of the Circle Colours.
With all the care and ceremony expected of me, I took each beaten platter or bowl from the lowly hands of the mute and blind, handing one to each of my brethren, the seventh, kept for myself. Towards each roaring undying flame we stepped, each knowing the steps and inner rhythm of this dance. A bow of the head, low in humility, our platters raised towards the flame, a moment of reverence, and a tip of our burdens, satiating the hunger of each fire and giving our devotion to those who had blessed us so.
In silence once more, and with the same practiced motions, we withdrew, handing our empty platters to the wooden shadows of the Avarai, who vanished once more into the darkness without sound.
The Silent hours were approaching.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Few knew the paths I took, but then, few knew Iysarav as well as I. Was it not I who knew every crack within the stone? Was it not I who knew ever pock or imperfection in the walls and floors? Far from the open galleries and grand council halls, deep within the darkest bowels of my city within a city, tunnels ran like the veins within a great sleeping beast.
None were permitted here, not even the most trusted of the Colours or Ardazem. The tunnels beneath the tunnels of Iysarav were as sacred to Us as the Chambers of Silence. I walked with no need of light, the dimmest flicker of distant torchlight shedding its weak glow now and then in intervals along the labyrinth. I smiled to myself, none but the Crimson knew the paths, their secret twists and turns leading to nowhere, or sudden death in pitfalls scattered within the darkness. I myself had overseen the construction of the labyrinth, those ancient architects and stonemasons were all dead, commissioned to end their lives when their task was complete. It was a place of deepest blackness, gauged within the very body of the earth to house my most precious of pets.
The rustling scrape of sandy feet emerged from the twisting corridors to shadow my own, the soft silent tinkle of chains whispering their names to me. My dog had returned bearing a gift.
Further into the darkness I walked, unhurried, the heavy thrumming silence of the earth pressing in around me. True blackness resided in the labyrinth, far from the rays of the sun above. I had locked it within a chamber at the heart of the tunnels, the key: a single word only I knew. The door was ahead of me, I could see the swarming Kundjinn dancing against its obstruction, some small enough to slide between the names which made it up, like thieves slipping through the robust and tightly knit ranks of soldiers. I could see the lock, its burning red name twisted and knotted together, easing apart slowly as I whispered it, ordering it to obey.
The door opened and I entered, the frigid chill of black obscuring the minute Kundjinn, their bodies devoured by it. Behind me, the gift whimpered and moaned, the flashing symbols of that noise, given life from breath, were swallowed up as well and consumed hungrily. I revelled in that terror, let it remain so, the scent of it thrilling me. Zamaan remained where I bid him stay as I continued further alone into that endless ever hungry black.
I knew where it lay, my Creature, bound to this spot deep within the earth, chained by my word. It was the core of the devouring dark, but its hunger could not harm me, I was its captor, I was he who had tethered it to this prison! The chains hissed before my eyes, their light a part of my very being and they too could not be devoured though the abomination tried endlessly to do so. Pathetic malformed creature that it was! It gave me greater pleasure than Zamaan to see it curled up in such a weak manner, burdened by the heaviness of the restrains I had bound it with. It gazed at me through the seething corruption of its body, its eyes pouring out the deepest of sorrows and pain. It gave me great satisfaction to see it thus, held within my grasp like a moth.
I did not even deem it worthy of speech, content instead to mock it with my very freedom. It did not even struggle as it once did, resigning itself instead to its torment, broken at last to my will. The thought was gratifying, but it inflamed the burning cold wrath in my chest to see it no longer rise to my challenges! Weakness did not interest me, it was the broken strong who were worthy of my pleasure!
My golden claws lashed out across its throat, biting deep through the darkness and cleaving it apart, tearing shreds of tattered white in the everlasting black. It recoiled, its broken eyes remaining upon me as its throat reformed like mist, the wriggling bubbling darkness of it twisting and reforming anew leaving jewels of dull milky white upon the ground.
Elixir.
It was these I sought, calling them to my hand through their names. Fragments of a fallen purity.
Those eyes had never left me, staring as they always did in beseeching pain.
"I will never free you" I said, my words like the lash of weapons, biting into its flesh and punishing it further.
In satisfaction I left, turning my back upon it and returning to the door of the chamber where Zamaan remained with his burden.
"Come." I said.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
My labyrinth held many secrets, and to a second of these I walked. I had many questions, some of which could only be answered by those closer to death than I.
This door needed no lock, for she chose to remain deep within the bowels of the earth on her own will, shunning the light and retreating into that all-enclosing dark. Better to see the world without the glaring brightness of light.
The chamber was vast, but I could feel its walls despite their distance, roughly hewn, cut from the rock like the wound a cavern or gorge left. Sand, finer than silk, covered the earth, the countless Kundjinn dancing and writhing with the sand spirits and earth motes. Such creatures were never of interest, their minute suffering offering little but momentarily gratification at its best. My gift's distress was far more delightful.
Her presence was near, the dimly luminous strands of twisted thread spread across the cavern like flyaway spider silk tangling and merging in greater reams. They were her feelers, her eyes, her fingers, her only sense, threads so delicate but so long that they dug into the very earth and felt its heartbeat. Each minutely thin hair pulsed with the dim glow of her, barely more than a ghost light, arteries and veins twisting and merging to strands and tresses like the roots of a tree. Or the knotted tangled centre of a nerve.
Ankabi, the silent spider hiding deep within the centre of her web. Each strand and thick knot of hair clumped and merged to connect to her skull-like scalp, her withered wasted body slumped cross-legged in the centre of the chamber. Naked and shrivelled, a corpse whose flesh had wasted to nothing but bone and petrified muscle, her long arms stretched out before her in the sand, bony fingers twisting patterns in it continually to each pulse of the earth. She did not lift her sightless face, the skin weathered and knotted about eyes which had long since been devoured by the dark, featureless and as dead as the rest of her. Had lesser men seen such a foul creature they would have fled in madness or fallen to their knees gibbering like fools.
I had not captured her like my other Creature, she had come to me, seeking solitude within the darkness, forsaking the world above to live within the belly of the earth and listen to its pulsing whispers. All had been sacrificed, her body becoming but a withering husk, spreading its tendrils deep into the sands and stones like the threads of the Kairyin fungus which burst from the still living bodies of insects.
"Blessed AdurArshaam, you bring me a gift" she said, her voice all but a hollow whisper, like the rustle of the wind through dead leaves.
I did not need to respond, she had not required an answer.
"The stars are changing" she continued, her fingers tracing their slow ever changing patterns. "Sands are shifting."
Again that name stabbed itself through my thoughts: Dustande.
"Change is coming to the unchangeable" her voice hissed. "It has already begun, look to the sky and you will see a star is missing, ejected from the heavens like a mother birthing a child."
"What manner of change?" I asked, her words beginning to inflame my anger, stars falling meant nothing, the heavens were constantly changing, had not a planet died last year? Had not the blazing trail of a comet been seen the year before…all had been portents of change but nothing had happened. The Circle continued to turn and order continued to reign.
The hag was silent, her heavy head nodding slightly as her fingers ceased their patterns.
"Great change, beware AdurArshaam, Light has fallen from the sky."
A moment of cold ice gripped my heart at those words: light from the sky. And then it passed, my burning inner anger consuming the weakness and devouring it like the darkness had devoured all else. The hag's senses had grown addled and weak, corrupted by her distance from the sun and our Light. I turned away and returned to the door, pausing only long enough to see those ghastly white tendrils wrap about the body of the child I had brought, stolen from the streets and bound in silencing words as an offering to my spider.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
The Ritual of Rest was upon us, my hood drawn up above my head as I led the procession up the winding stairs to our Light's chambers. There were no Azure Sisters this time, the Beythanian standing their silent vigil as ever, alabaster statues against the marble walls. Within my hands I held the golden bowl filled with the Drink of Rest, five stones of milky white Elixir cast within.
Nuryana sat amidst her pillows, my face averted as I knelt upon the floor. Weariness had come upon her as the sins of man had clung to her throughout the day and dulled her brilliance. Night always cast its shadow upon her.
"Most Divine of lights" I said, extending the bowl towards her. "Drink now the waters of Rest, laced with drops of Elixir to keep you safe from the hungry grasp of those who would wish you harmed. In darkness and night, that most silent of times, when your Light is weakened by out unholy burdens, your enemies, the Darakos, grow strong. Into the embrace of the Void you must go, carrying our sins with you so that we may be purified and the Dark Ones no longer have power over us."
I remained thus before her, the weight of that bowl removed from my hands as She took it
"Most Blessed Crimson, have faith, I will emerge from those dark waters refreshed and renewed, my purity once more driving back the Unclean Ones and bringing day again." She spoke the words she had always spoken, drinking the Waters of Rest and laying back within her bed as I moved away, bowed to her in gratitude.
All was as it should be.
* * * * * * * * * * * *