Sanu Nepe’s journal
My heart is brimming with joy beyond what I thought my frame could withstand, and my head is overflowing with lofty and ambitious dreams. But let us not get ahead of ourselves. I encountered a great and lofty amount of activity within the center of the town, centered around the tree which sprouted from St. Sini Naqihu’s corpse, once the breath of life, had left it all those decades ago. It was now decorated with countless offerings of food and clothing wrapped around its bushy branches. I looked around as people prepared all sorts of activities for joy, the smells of cooking food filled the air alongside the quick footsteps of stammering children. Dogs and goblins alike gathered eager for a meal, fearsome and savage beings, prepared to fight one another for mere scraps.
I dodged between such beings and questioned a pair of women who were employed in kneading balls of corn dough and cooking them to produce tortillas. I quickly asked her in the region's native savage and uncouth tongue, “Reveal to me, if you please, the source of all the activity which has swarmed the region. Some wedding or funeral?.”
One of the women laughed at me condescendingly as if I was a young and foolish child who didn’t understand the functioning of the world. While that wreaked a great storm of anger within my heart, equal to a destructive hurricane, I kept all my feelings to myself and listened attentively. “No, no,” she stated as she shook her head, “We are not commemorating events undertaken solely by mortals. Rather, here we joyfully celebrate the destruction of the fearsome demon Qejonu. Wicked being! Is that not worthy of celebration?”
The woman working beside her bluntly stated, “We are here to work, not to gossip. Either purchase a product or leave.” I thanked them profusely despite my inward frustration, stating, “Ah, I apologize, I thank you for enlightening me.” In order to ensure continued cordiality with these simple village dwellers, I bought half a dozen of the tortillas even if I had already consumed breakfast. I ate them as I walked, dreams formulating and floating within my head. The death of a god was something rare, those great blundering yet powerful parasites. An idea began to germinate like a seed on ripe soil, laying down thick roots. However, I knew that more information, not available to the people of this ignorant town, was necessary to go ahead on any plan of mine. The most ancient and glorious art was not well-received here, that much has been left clear to me. Horrid shades of the past weighed heavily in my head.
I approached an old man with brown sagging and wrinkled skin who found himself employed in the selling of some fowl. He possessed a tired countenance and appeared to be falling asleep in mid day as I approached. I provided him with a pleasant smile and stated, “What a most pleasant and auspicious day! Dead be Qejonu. How much do you charge for one of those excellent birds of yours.” The man opened his mouth, many teeth absent with the remaining few sprouting up like cacti within a desert mound. Despite this, his voice could clearly be understood as he pleasantly approached me.. “Aye, sir. I’ve got an awful lot of roosters this last year, most of them will end up in stew. You know how it is. These ones ain’t good for fighting. Which one do you want?” I pointed to one which looked and smelled healthy and muscular, at least when judged by the standards of the miserable quality of this land's average fowl. Once removed from the cage he prepared to strip the bird of its head with a long and bloody machete as the chicken was laid bare on a small wooden table. “Halt! I require it alive,” once those words left the barrier of my teeth he muttered something under his breath, perhaps displeased at not getting a chance to use the old piece of steel. I attempted to remedy that by explaining, “I’ll be going a little ways from here. I’d like to slaughter it there. To preserve the freshness.”
The ancient man's countenance did not remain bitter at me for long, he chuckled at me and said, “Yes, it is a merry time. In my youth I would have hunted on a day like this. Divine treasure! Enjoy the youth you’ve got left.” The man packed the bird into the cage and handed it to me. That complete, I journeyed into the vast lands outside of the town.
I went past the structured homes of wood and adobe and past the vast fields of rippling corn and beans which grew on the fertile black earth and were watered by the rain which the shakers of the waves sprayed on the earth after the sun purified it. I wandered to the rocky outskirts of the land and brought with me the rooster, alive and greatly displeased at me. I wisely ignored it as these wild beasts were incapable of learning or reason of any kind. All while struggling with a wooden walking stick through the rocky highlands. To argue with such inhuman beings would be futile. Once I reached a suitably remote spot I prepared a great fire with some dried sticks I had picked up earlier along the rocky trail. My back ached, but I continued on. Once the fire was set, I made sure to add wet leaves and other such plant matter to ensure thick black smoke blossomed like a terrible flower into the vast skies.
There I stayed, impatiently fiddling with the horrid cotton tunic which was so common within this too-warm land. Even with such light cloth, sweat always made my skin wet. My attention was diverted by a pair of eyes in the woods, the form of a small bipedal creature being clearly seen from what little light of the afternoon sun filtered down the dark canopy into the rocky earth. Upon witnessing that I loudly stated, “if you are one of the wandering spirits, then come and be seated for some time. Let us share food and words alike. But if you are nothing but one of the wild beasts of the field, mindless, inhuman, and brutal, then leave. There is nothing for you here.” The creature slowly wandered out of the forest, a lithe being stood. Its head, even when fully raised, only reached to the hips of a young woman. Many beings with such a form had I observed within the lowlands, mindless beasts that gnawed at the weak and the dead. It had the form of nothing but a meager beast, the long legs and the sharp beak but its words revealed a high intellect, “I hear you, foreigner, and I listen. Before you ask anything of me, slaughter that chicken and cook its innards for me to have a meal. If you do not, your words will pass through my internal ears and leave through my breath. I shall be gone quicker than the wind.”
But I merely grinned widely at that and beckoned it closer, “Come, that you may ensure it is prepared to your liking.” With one hand I brought forth a terrible blade, short but still deadly. I laid the rooster bare upon a fallen tree trunk, which had been stripped of life by pitiless steel in some former time. With one fell swoop the young bird joined the tree and all the shades of the dead as its blood and life oozed out and forever laid a mark on the wood. I dispatched the rest of the blood into the throat of the terrible yet pitiful spirit made incarnate which greedily drank the blood and remaining life of the bird. The puppeteering spirit eagerly screeched, “Oh, there are few things better than fresh blood. Had you brought dried and lifeless flesh to me I would have left you hearing nothing but the movement of dirt within the air”
I plucked the individual feathers of the bird with much effort. I lamented the fact my acolytes were forced to labor based on the whims of others to obtain food. This meager action was not befitting of masters such as I, but I had few things fit of my former status now. The spirit now made its will known and said, “Cook the gizzard apart, do not empty it of what it contains. Throw the wings for the worms or eat them yourself, I care nothing for them. I leave only them and the bones to you.” I gave my nod of approval and went on the tasks it had told me.
As I left the shards of flesh slowly cooking on a warm stone the creature disapprovingly told me, “Foolish witch, Sanu Nepe, next time bring a comal. I care nothing whatever other spirits you’ve consorted with have told you, stones do not provide taste; they remove it. I require some of your blood as a payment for this mistake on your part.” I, however, responded to it in an angered tone, “Do you think I'm a fool? I will not provide you with anything of my own being. Not with the blood that contains my very essence, the blueprints of my design. If you do not take the payment for the chicken, it is already cooked. I can hear the footsteps of other beings in the periphery. Would you have Melo or someone else's feast instead of you?”
The creature chuckled darkly and bitterly at me before saying, “I submit to your logic. It did no harm to myself to attempt to pull your strings, human. It has been far too long since I dwelt among your kind and consumed cooked flesh. I crave the feeling once more.” I fed the creature as a man does a dog or a goblin, throwing the chunks at it after having picked them up with small yet firm sticks of wood. The creature consumed them for a long time, and relayed to me useless information which I will not write down and which I barely even remember. They were nothing but muses about the conflicts it had with hunters, with the beasts of the field, and with other creatures of its own kind it considered lesser. The arrogance the wandering spirits can have even when they are destitute and lacking any kind of worship or veneration is staggering.
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Once it had eaten plenty, I looked at it with an angry glance and told it, “I have heard your own words long enough and provided you with cooked flesh; I want answers now. Entertain my musings, if you will. I wish to know about the happenings at Rilu Jiguhi” The creature stopped pecking at the ground for whichever morsels remained and faced it with an upfront look. It opened its beak in a wide manner, a mockery of a smile, which I supposed it retained from the time it had puppetered a human body. “Curious about the death of Qejonu, are you? Yes, the old god has truly perished. It is no trick, no jest.” The creature let out another mad cackle upon seeing the joy that lit up in my face, but I desired more information, “Tell me how?”
It continued with the story it had been relating, “A great coalition of the nearby lordships, led by who else but Gajohu and their wretched duke. They came over with terrible armies and threatened to bring absolute destruction to his city, many deities and mortal heroes such as Nolina or Nupani. The others tell me great they heard of the horrible deeds they threatened, fire to their buildings, locusts to their fields, plague to their children.”
The creature looked at me and stated, “Nolina told Qejonu she would either retake the city which she had founded or reduce it to a pile of rubble. And that only with John's death would she be satisfied. And so!” The creature raised its voice at that point, “Qejonu destroyed his own mind, he warbled all the memories stored in the great fungal masses into nothingness. His frame was shattered by the work of his own hands, but not in vain, for the city still stands within the fertile valley. Simply under a different ruler” With the tale completed I chose to finally reveal my utmost goal and questioned the wandering spirit. “And tell me, oh Huse Napase, the welcome hit, what you would ask of me to obtain a piece of land which contains this shattered and mindless pile of divine fungi, this delectably portentous blank slate. I hold lofty plans for it.”
The creature questioned me in an accusing tone, the wandering spirit revealing all of its thoughts as it turned its head and told me, “Your determination is eternal. You’ve had no success with that wretched art of yours in this land. Were you not driven to this meaningless stretch of land from Cijene due to your practice of that art? It is not welcome here, all abhor it.” I scowled at it, greatly angered by its jesting words. I lost all semblance of formality and warmness I had attempted to maintain and hollered out, “How it is that you know all that, you miserable spirit!”. I calmed myself and before the creature could respond stated, “But regardless, what I do with my most hallowed art is of no business to you, wretched and miserable spirit with no hope or future! This people's ignorance will not deter me. Tell me: What must I pay to obtain a chunk of land which houses a relatively whole mass of the deceased god fungal god nestled within the soil?”
It was not good to allow my emotions to gain control of me, but they always raged within me and struck at the most inopportune moments. The creature, however, was not angered but instead amused by my words. It let out its mouth wide open in a mockery of a smile and stated, “Now, did your parents not teach you how to treat a lady? To answer the former question, that acolyte of yours, following close behind your every step, Qinisiru Relino, has been consorting with many spirits. Not just myself, without your knowledge. He’s better at this than you.” I interrupted the hated and unworshipped deity and clenched my teeth in abject anger, “Oh that cursed young man! He is a slithering and horrible product of mine. He thinks he can carry out deeds behind my back, does he? But do carry on.” The creature continued without the slightest difficulty as if it had never been interrupted. It let out a chirping mockery of a laugh before asking me, “Do you know what is the thing I miss the most of the time when I was a worshipped goddess?”
I was in not even the slightest mood to entertain this game. Yet, when a sentence of complaint began to escape the barrier of my teeth the creature looked at me with such a fierce gaze I chose against that course of action. Instead, I threw out a haphazard guess, “Hands?” The spirit looked at the small and ornamental feathers of the body it was currently puppeteering. Useless pile of fungal slime, annoying game-maker. It responded in an agreeable tone entirely unlike the savage gaze it had thrown just a minute earlier, “Good guess, those were rather pleasant to have. I miss being able to write. The human frame is excellent for countless things. You really should be thankful that you possess one which is whole and in good condition, with a fine age.”
I was growing impatient at the endless meandering the wandering spirit enjoyed, but kept my composure. The great bird finally said, “Human flesh.” It looked at me with one eye before staring at the clouds galloping through sunny heaven, visible through the canopy of the trees. “I miss when children had their throats slashed in my honor, once a year. I miss feasting on their delectable brains, their hearts, and stews made from the meat on their legs. I miss chewing their bones for marrow. Their meat is rare and sparse, and growing it takes a lengthy period of time, but it is tender and delectable. Those who haven’t consumed it do not understand.” The creature launched a great sound that blurred the line between a screech and a wail, “ Oh, cursed be sini naqihu, wretched be the day he is named after! It is due to him and his accursed god that I am where I am.” It clawed angrily at the earth, as though it were tearing the flesh of a living being it despised.
I looked at it without sympathy, not pleased by its strange and sudden breakdown. I let it continue its speech and its horrid wails for some time. I allowed it to compose itself. I’d eaten human flesh back when I was a man of high breeding and noble standing during my youth in my homeland. I didn’t miss it much, the texture of it never seemed appealing to me and it tasted like an inferior version of pork. Yet gods and nobles here and there always seem to delight in it. “Bring me one human child,” it started with an entirely nonchalant tone as if it hadn’t been a screeching and gibbering mess just a minute before, “ of your choice. Bring it to me by the end of the month and I will give you the piece of land you desire, rich with the pure slimy fungal essence of Rejonu for you to play around with.”
My mouth parted into a very wide grin and I condescendly said to it, “you underestimate me, my acolytes, and the power of the human form. I promise this, by the time the moon reaches the middle of the sky it is human flesh you will be feasting on, not the rabbits and rats of the fields.”
It seemed to me as the spirit spoke in a tone which betrayed its excitement as it said, “We’ll see about that.” I moved so as to leave and hastened back home to make preparations for the sacrifice. “Wait for just a moment more,” the creature pleaded with a tone that betrayed its mockery, “what do you want the piece of the dead god for? My question before was more than simply a jest. None within this duchy will believe a shade which presents itself as their ancestor. No worshipper of the Mexihuacan Ojotillas or one of Culiqaque's scarce communities such as this one will accept it. And if someone does desire one the deluded deities you are to make, whose minds are woven as you see fit, the deal between you two will not remain secret for very long. And those who find out will be angered, as they were at Qejene. Tell me, necromancer. What do you plan?”
Anger surged within my heart at once more being reminded of that horrible attempt. The way I ran into the wilderness like a wounded deer forever engrained itself into my mind. The horrible sounds of flying bolts and the thundering of an arquebus. But it was overshadowed by the lofty dream my mind nursed, and after some debating I finally said, “I do not plan on imitating the human mind, I do not plan on imprinting one of their lives into the mind I will create. No, I will bring forth one of the Qese Rilu.” After that sentence my words grew increasingly prouder and less organized. I no longer examined them within my mind, they left it of their own accord. Cursed may I be! “I will become venerated as a prophet. I will gain control of the whole village, they will kiss my feet and clean the ground on which I walk. I will be honored like a god. As one at my level of skill in this hallowed art should be.”
The creature interrupted my lofty dreams and brought me down from the realm of my mind into reality with its savage laughs. “Oh, necromancer, your plan is foolish beyond measure! These people will test it as their god instructed, they will see through your plot. They will spill your blood in the honor of their god and feast upon your flesh! But your foolish goals are not important to me. Your horrid death will bring me much delight. Let us simply perform the transaction. ”
I kept my emotions carefully contained and moved to stand up, not forgetting to utter, “I thank you for agreeing to go with this.” The spirit laughs as I begin walking and quickly responds, “It costs me little. Just make sure to bring a comal next time." Those were the last words I heard from it as I walked down the dirt road well-heated by the light of the omnipotent sun.