Dimit had a feeling. A feeling like a knife stabbing through his forehead. A message from his god. Relaxing, allowing Tera into his consciousness, he listened. Writing opened up, tracings of lightning scoured onto his mind. The Reliever approaches. Soon I will be freed. The high priest of Panity shivered in anticipation. A sacrifice must be prepared, so they can be forced to take my place. The contact ended. He stood, excitedly, joints creaking, decayed cartilage rubbing painfully against young bones. Others didn't understand their religion. Others prayed to gods that did not respond, did not have a presence, which probably did not exist at all. Tera gave his priests powers, let them call on otherworldly forces, allowing them to summoning the creatures of fire and lightning. The Jinrae. Granted, they would as soon turn on you as help, but it demonstrated power nonetheless. His veins flowed with the painfree elixir, which he gave of freely in return for service. Tera promised that when he was unshackled from his torment, true followers would likewise be released from theirs. It wasn't the love of suffering that drew people in, it was the hope of salvation. He pulled a clay jar from the top drawer of his desk and pulled the slightly rotten cork from the mouth. Everything in the temple was a little ruined. This close to the breach the ability of this realm to sustain life grew weak. Knowledge of the breach was kept strictly confidential – only the highest ranks of priests were permitted to understand the nature of their god. Tera was a terrible being chained between realms aeons in the past when trying to cross over. Presumably to claim this world for his own. Dimit didn't know who had imprisoned his god, but they had been searching for the Reliever since the early days. When the Reliever was found, freedom would be granted and they would have their revenge. That thought consumed him. It consumed all of them. Tera would cure them once he was freed.
Dimit took an absent-minded swig from the ceramic jug of painfree elixir, the thick black liquid flowing like molasses down his throat. It sent numbing tendrils through his body, radiating out from his core into his extremities. Within seconds he could move properly. The elixir was good relief but it had an addictive quality and caused the body to deteriorate faster, aging the user beyond their years. Tera provided it but left it to the free will of his followers as to how much they would use. The blood of a god – who would refuse such a blessing?
But he had been given a task. He must prepare a sacrifice. He knew the requirements. He had memorised the entirety of Panen doctrine years ago. The sacrifice must be consumed with desire for the god's blood. Driven to paranoia and desperation. There were few such priests, but a few hours would be enough to drive one to that state, given a large enough supply of elixir.
A stab of envy struck him. He wished he could sacrifice an unbeliever for this task. Them with their pain-free lives. Not a Foldian, who had their own misguided beliefs but at least suffered in their own way. No, he wanted to show pain to those who didn't know it. Dimit had been like them once, until the sickness took him. Like a bolt in the night, he had awoken, joints aflame and swollen. Doctors could do nothing. There was no cure, but the Panity priests found him. Showed him the Eternal Path. Gave him the painfree elixir. He would show the heathens pain, and he would be cured of his. Glorious Tera would cure him when the shackles were finally destroyed!
Dimit had arrived at the infirmary, where those whose pain had grown too great were house. He hid the fury in his eyes, and put on a mask of pity and compassion. Sacrifices were not so common that what he would do here would be considered suspicious. The infirm would see the elixir as a blessing, and the nurses lacked the authority to counter their god's will anyway. Still, he didn't want to have to answer any awkward questions.
Dimit took a few bottles of painfree to the first nearest bed – if that's what these stone slabs could be called – and gave that person a double dose. She was one of the younger priests, crippled by some disease he couldn't remember. What was her name? He didn't remember. She looked up and smiled thankfully. After another double dose she would find it difficult to refuse any more. He continued up that side of the aisle, and back down the other, treating each patient with a regular dose, before returning to the first. He administered another double dose and assisted the chosen patient upright. After a few false starts – pain which was not completely dulled by four swigs of the blood must be strong indeed – Dimit managed to coax the sacrifice into a standing position. He placed the now empty jug in the bin set aside for that purpose, uncorked the other and handed it to the once infirm, who gave him a grateful nod and took a deep draught. They made their way out and through to Dimit's meditation room, where he could be certain they would not be disturbed. He swiped another pair of jugs on the way out.
By the time they arrived at his meeting room, the girl was shaking and sweating with the side-effects of the god's blood. After all, how could a mere mortal handle more than the smallest portions of the blood of a god? She would be suitable within the hour.
Keeping the other jug of painfree elixir for himself, he made his way to the central chamber of this temple, telling the priests he passed that there would be an important meeting shortly, one which the entire clergy was expected to attend.
Once a sufficient number of people had arrived, he began speaking.
“Less than an hour ago, our God of Eternity informed me that the Reliever approaches! A sacrifice must be made!” Those gathered seemed uncertain whether to be afraid or jubilant. The surprise was written on their faces as plain as day. “Someone has already volunteered to be given up – her name will go down in our histories as the one who gave her life for us!” The crowd began cheering now they all knew they would not be required to perform that particular duty. Selfish cowards. “We will assign a contingent to wait outside to escort the Reliever when he arrives. Those who would witness the unchaining should be prepared in two hours, when we will leave for the middle sanctum.”
No comments:
Post a Comment