“Do you have a name?”

…

“What is it?”

…

“Lamb? Well that’s no good for a name.”

Ailaurus opened her eyes. She saw Treyus seated next to the sacrifice on the other side of the fire place, feeding it stew from a bowl.

“They think they can just raise you to be killed? Ha-aka! Ha-aka!” Treyus shook his head disapprovingly. “A name is important. A name is itself a title.” He flicked the spoon around as he spoke, like he was writing his words in the air.

Ailaurus sat up and wiped off the soil that clung to her cheek. Treyus and the sacrifice looked at her. “And our warrior has awoken,” he said. “Will our warrior be having breakfast?”

Ailaurus stood up and rolled her shoulders. “I’d rather just get moving.”

Treyus looked at the sacrifice with a disapprovingly raised eyebrow. “Our warrior has chosen suffering.” He stood up and put the bowl and spoon into the empty pot over the fire place. “I’ll collect water from the river while you get yourselves ready.”

Ailaurus nodded and he walked off. She massaged her neck. All her experience sleeping on the ground and she never thought of pillows as a necessity. They were always just a convenience to her. She looked at the sacrifice. It stared at her. She tried a soft smile and held it for a few seconds. No reaction. She stopped smiling and wondered if it was looking at her or waiting for the spirit to wake up too.

She patted her holster and sheath. Her whip and knife were still there. She looked around for the claws before realising she was already wearing them. She’d slept with them on. Treyus warned her regularly, but until she actually took one of her eyes out in her sleep, she considered herself cautious for sleeping armed.

Treyus returned with a full waterskin and led the trek home. He used a knobkerrie as a walking stick. Instruments and tools hung from his hip. He held the pot over his shoulder by the rim. Despite the weight he carried, he happily talked to the sacrifice, wobbling alongside him. “A name is important. A name is itself a title. I say it again because it is true. Lamb is not a good name. Ha-aka.”

Ailaurus watched them from behind. Treyus had his eyes on the sky, speaking with his hands as if he were teaching the children of his tribe. The sacrifice had its eyes on the ground, watching every step it took.

“My people, my tribe, we are a Banak tribe. Do you know what that is?”

The sacrifice looked up, shook its head, then quickly looked back down.

“The Banak have a culture of living their lives avoidant of beasts. Some think of the Banak as weak. Maybe.” Treyus nodded to himself. “But none of them live near the Sneulands, where us Banak do. There, the beasts are hardened by cold. Here, where there is still green, the beasts are only animals. There, where there is only white, the True Beasts live. The strongest human couldn’t fight the weakest Sneuland beast.”

Ailaurus watched as the sacrifice lost interest in where it was putting its feet and paid more attention to Treyus.

“Now one of these True Beasts are the Ganthy Beasts. It is a peaceful animal. Many mistake its peace for weakness, but I promise you, this animal knows nothing but survival.”

The sacrifice tripped over a root and fell down.

“Ay,” Treyus said, “Careful now.”

The sacrifice stood back up as if nothing happened and they continued. It started to watch the ground again.

“Hunters wonder why the predators never try to kill a ganthy for food. The hunters who do find out why, don’t live to tell the others. When a Ganthy Beast’s life is at risk, it will do anything for survival. It will kill whatever tries to kill it…”

Treyus stopped and looked down at the sacrifice. The sacrifice stopped and looked up at Treyus. “Ganthy,” Treyus said. “How’s that for a name?” Treyus looked at Ailaurus. Ailaurus made a face and shrugged. Treyus looked back to the sacrifice.

The sacrifice smiled and nodded. Treyus smiled and nodded back and then kept walking.

“Ganthy!” he chanted. “Those who try for your life will pay with their own.”

Ailaurus the Woman of Hell, Banak Tribesman Treyus, and Ganthy the sacrifice.

The trio crossed the isle headed for home – a godless community at the edge of the Floating Isles where Ailaurus was reborn and raised. Both Ailaurus and Treyus knew how much land there was to cross. Where there was land, there were people. Where there were people, there was a risk of conflict.

Ganthy froze at the sight of a beast ahead of them, but Treyus and Ailaurus kept walking, so it followed. The creature’s skin looked like tree bark. Its four legs were long and sprawled out like a spider’s. Its body and head close to a horse’s. It stood in the most well-lit part of the forest catching as much sun as it could.

Ganthy then noticed the empty bags and pouches hanging from its back, then it noticed the village just beyond it. Another one of these beasts followed a man into the village, its bags full of vegetables.

“Stop here for the day?” Treyus asked and looked at Ailaurus.

“For lunch, maybe,” she said, “There’s another farming village further. We can continue that way and stay there for the night.”

“What’s wrong with a tribal village?”

“I’d just… I’d really like to sleep on a mattress tonight.” She looked at the village with half-closed eyes; the darkness under them being darker than usual.

They passed the roaming beast and Ganthy stuck close to Ailaurus, keeping its eyes on the peculiar creature, but the beast wasn’t concerned with them. As they got closer to the village Ganthy noticed more than the people and these beasts of labour. Green-feathered creatures, almost leaf-like, were perched atop the wooden huts and shacks. Dog-sized lizards played with children. Ganthy continued with them into the village, but it shied away from the energy and hid behind Ailaurus, trying to make itself invisible.

Treyus was Banak. This village was Lerian. A beast may have been a friend or just neutral to the people, but a beast will never be an enemy. When Ganthy looked up, it saw how the village grew into the trees so seamlessly that it didn’t notice until now. Paths and homes were built along branches. There were no bridges. Both child and adults bounded between the trees effortlessly, sometimes swinging with ropes or vines.

They arrived at the centre of the village where fruits, vegetables and dry meats were on show in baskets and hanging from hooks. Treyus turned to Ailaurus and said, “Coins.” She scratched in her pouch and tossed a small bag to him. He weighed it in his hands and said, “Feeling light. We should pick up some favours.” Ailaurus nodded and Treyus left them.

A group of children ran past with one of their reptile dogs and Ganthy unintentionally put a stump onto Ailaurus’ leg. She looked down at it. It feverishly looked over its shoulders at everything.

“Ganthy,” she said. It didn’t notice. That wasn’t its name yet. “Ganthy!” she said again and it looked up at her. “Nobody here is going to hurt you. The Lerian tribes are very friendly.” It stared at her for a moment, then continued to look around.

When Treyus returned with fruits and meat, and an even lighter coin pouch, they found a spot in the village for them to sit and eat. Treyus put his portions aside while he fed Ganthy himself.

“One of the villagers told me something to tell you,” Treyus said.

Ailaurus looked at him.

“Yesterday a group of… primal looking men came to the village. They were asking if anybody had seen followers of Zathiri.”

Ailaurus closed her eyes and sighed through her nose with her mouth full.

“The tribe overheard them saying things about a boy as well as unsavory things about Zathiri.”

She opened her eyes again. She swallowed. “Where are they?”

“They have a camp east. A short run.”

Ailaurus put the last piece of meat in her mouth, wiped her hands on her pants and stood up.

“You want to go now?”

“I’d like to clean up before I leave. I don’t want something catching us by surprise later.”

“I doubt this will be a problem later, Ailaurus. You should rest.”

“You said it’s a short run. I’ll find out if it’s worth dealing with.” And she left them for the forest again.

“Ay…” He looked at Ganthy who watched her leave. “Don’t be like her,” Treyus said. “Mission before wellbeing.” Ganthy looked at him. Treyus held a piece of dry meat to Ganthy’s mouth. Ganthy put both stumps on the meat and tried to hold it for himself so Treyus let go.

Ganthy bit and pulled, but the meat was too tough so it slipped from its stumps and hung from its teeth. Treyus laughed and Ganthy tried again. While it tried to break the meat, Treyus took the opportunity to eat for himself. Once Ganthy gnawed at the meat for long enough, breaking off pieces became easy.

A group of children, all a similar age to Ganthy, passed by and noticed its missing hands. They all stopped and gawked. Ganthy froze and looked to Treyus, but Treyus did nothing. The children spoke a language that Ganthy didn’t understand, but they sounded curious.

One of them slowly approached it and took it by the wrist to look close at the stump. She prodded it with her finger. She asked Ganthy something and it stared at her cluelessly. Treyus responded in their language and stood up. The girl lifted Ganthy up and she and her friends dragged it deeper into the village, Treyus following them.

Ailaurus trusted Treyus more than anybody, but he didn’t understand. She’d seen how quickly these small things grew and multiplied and became something much worse. The village mad man on day one becomes the village’s priest on day seven. Coins flipped behind her back. She wouldn’t let herself leave anything to chance.

A group of, “primal,” men were looking for a Zathirian cult in possession of a child. A group of, “primal,” men were looking for the people she’d killed and the child she saved. She was a part of this now. She didn’t exactly know what this was, but that’s why she was out here. Was this going to try to kill her later?

When she caught the sight of smoke between tree trunks in the distance, she took her headdress and mask from her pouch. She slid the comb into her hair, put on the mask and lifted the snood over her nose. She checked her surroundings. She couldn’t see anybody. She got low enough to lightly touch the tips of her fingers to the dirt and slowly moved through the foliage.

Was this going to try to kill her later? Her answer was in sight.

It was the camp. Large tents with campfires throughout. The time it would’ve taken to set up a camp like this… She knew they were planning to stay here. Not for long, but this amount of equipment wasn’t for mobility. She watched the people, moving in and out of tents, sitting around fires, talking, brawling even.

Primal really was the first word that came to mind. They wore clothes, but whether it was fabric or armour, they all looked like they’d been raised in dirt. Painted faces. Scars. Angry stares. The loudest voices leading conversation. There was a group of teenage boys putting on strong faces as they talked over each other.

She watched them for a bit… What did they want with Zathiri and the child? She didn’t have a good feeling about them, but they really did just seem like primal men.

Men… Men… Men… Ailaurus had to look closer to see them. They were in plain sight but hard to notice. Around the fires, men sat on logs; women sat at their feet. Women housewived throughout the camp carrying pots and bowls, food and water. Women followed men at the heel as they walked through the camp.

… She’d seen religion put men in power but she’d never seen religion turn women into… companions. Was this a religion? Was this just a tribe with a strict culture? She’d never heard of a tribe who wanted anything to do with a god.

Then again, she also never heard of a religion that did this to people.

The longer she looked, the clearer she saw the dynamic. She saw meek and quiet men and boys staying aside from the conversation and crowd. She watched these men try to impose themselves on whatever woman was their companion.

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She didn’t know what any of these people wanted with Zathiri, but she felt that she wasn’t welcome to ask and she wasn’t in a position to do anything by force. Still staying low, she took a step back. Taking her attention off the village, she noticed the stalking silence to her right.

She turned. A group of young men watched her. A spear hurtled at her. Ailaurus dropped and the silks of her headdress dispersed as the spear flew overhead. She pushed herself up and without a second look she turned and sprinted through the bushes. Yells and footsteps came after her.

She looked over each shoulder. None of them had a spear. Some of them had clubs. All of them had legs faster than hers. Ailaurus slowed to a stop as men came up on each side and surrounded her. She reached for her blade, but arms wrapped around her and squeezed. She dropped down and stomped on his foot then raked her claws along his thigh and he fell back grunting.

She pulled out her blade as she turned to face him. A club struck her in the shoulder. It didn’t particularly hurt; she’d felt worse; but everything from the past few weeks caught up to her and she fell. Suddenly, all of Treyus’ talk of rest and recovery made sense. Suddenly, every ache and pain begged for her attention.

She quickly got up, looking all around her to see who was going to hit her, but they all stood back.

She kept looking around her. Her shoulder throbbed. She wasn’t holding the blade as firmly as she knew she could. The man whose she sliced stood upright, trying to hide the limpness of his leg. He raised his chin; looked down at her as if he’d won and she just got lucky.

“Woman of Hell,” a man behind her said.

She turned around and held the blade at him.

“We know of you,” he said.

He was big. He was unnecessarily loud. He was frowning. His chest was scarred with ink. If these were the kind of people she thought they were, this was the kind of man they would follow.

“Your mask. The black that you wear. The silks that you hang from yourself. All to mimic a devil in the eyes of the fearful religious as you cut them down.”

She ignored him. People knew about her. It didn’t matter. When it was dark and she did what she did, they called her a devil if they’d heard of her or not. All that mattered right now was escape. She tried to think of what move to make. She was frozen with indecisiveness, but that was okay as long as he kept talking and nobody made a move.

“We are in the daylight of the breathing sun and your illusions will not work on us. We are not fearful religious. We fear our god.”

She stopped planning. There’s the word, she thought, God.

“But we do not fear our devils. We do not fear women. We do not fear you.”

Something was going to happen here. She could feel it.

“You have no right to be the person that you are. Your place is at my feet, at my command.”

Every time somebody mentioned gods, there was a moment of righteous decisiveness.

“You struck the body of man,” he said and gestured to the man behind her. She kept her eyes on him.

“You are a sinner. We should kill you for this.” He stepped towards her and she took a small step back. He put his hand out and he said, “Unless you repent and be my wife.”

What? Her mind froze trying to process the ridiculousness of it. She turned her eyes to look both ways. Nobody was smiling. Everybody gave her dead stares. This was real. This was happening.

“I’m told that Ailaurus, the First Woman of Hell, has a face and body wrongfully hidden behind a mask and clothing.”

He was closer now.

“If only she gave up that title and acted as a woman should.”

She stared at him… and played the part.

She relaxed her shoulders and lowered her knife. She slowly came forward. She put her hand in his. To think love is this simple.

She pulled herself towards him and drove claws into his chin. She twirled around him and continued to run.

Then a club hit her in the ankle and she dropped to the dirt. Knees on her back. Hands on her elbows and wrists. A hand on the back of her head pressing her face down. Somebody stripped the brass claws from her knuckles. She didn’t know where the knife went. The whip was gone too.

They forced her hands behind her back and rope tied her wrists and ankles. A few seconds after hitting the ground, she was bound. They turned her onto her back and dragged her by the ankles. She touched her chin to her chest to keep the back of her head off the ground.

She had to admit, this was less than ideal, but they weren’t trying to kill her so she was fine with it.

They’d arrived at the camp and the eyes of everyone there came to see Ailaurus, the Woman of Hell. They chanted, as if celebrating a triumph; as if to make it clear the she’d lost. Some kicked dirt at her as she passed them. Somebody reached and pulled the headdress from her hair. Another pulled the mask from her face, scratching her cheek. Another pulled the snood from her mouth. They cheered again.

She shut out their noise. She looked around. Between all the arrogant figures she saw the morbid faces of women watching her.

Her ankles were dropped and she was turned around. She was lifted by the shoulder and her hands were tied to a post. All around her, men stood closer, talked louder, than was necessary. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back.

They weren’t trying to kill her. That was all that mattered to her right now.

She opened her eyes as they moved away and the leader, leaking blood from his chin, stepped forward holding a bucket.

“You may not want to be a wife,” he said with a weak tongue, “But we will make you into one.”

She closed her eyes as water splashed into her face and clothes and muddied the soil that she sat on. She didn’t open her eyes.

The chattering around her gave her a headache. Just the fact that the entire village came to look at her like some rare animal angered her. She was so hungry that she was nauseous. Her ankle hurt. Her shoulder hurt. Everything hurt, really, but the fresh ones were the worst.

They weren’t trying to kill her. That was all that mattered to her right now. She was alive. She could rest. If she could rest, she could summon the spirit.

The exhaling sun was starting to dim when they finally lost interest in her. They’d all moved on as if nothing happened. The cold had set in and the people were settling down.

Ailaurus heard something shifting behind her and looked over her shoulder at… somebody else’s shoulder. The woman— or girl, looked back at her. Neither said anything for a long moment, then she looked away. Ailaurus looked around her. They were in the dark, somewhere between the tents, but in sight of the men at a fire nearby.

“Who are these people?” Ailaurus asked over her shoulder.

The girl said nothing for a bit. “They are men.”

Ailaurus would’ve sighed if she had the energy. She just rested her head against the post.

“… They’re followers of a new god,” the girl continued.

Ailaurus looked over her shoulder again.

“This god values the strength of man above all else.”

Ailaurus waited for more, but nothing else came. That was it. That was how these people came to be. “How did you get here?” Ailaurus asked.

“I was kidnapped by… a friend of my brother.”

“Why?”

“Because… Because his friend liked me”, she said with a shrug.

“Does your brother know?”

“My brother was one of them when it happened.”

Ailaurus froze. “… I’m sorry,” she said as if it were question. “… Why did your brother join them?”

“Because he wanted to be a man too.”

Ailaurus waited for her to say more, but she didn’t seem interested in talking. Then she spoke again. “I think I’m going to say yes next time he asks me.”

“Don’t.”

“You haven’t been here as long as I have.”

“How long have you been here?”

She said nothing. She hung her head low and Ailaurus knew that she had nothing left to say.

Ailaurus watched the people at the nearby fire through a gap between the tents. At a glance, nothing seemed wrong with them. They really were just men going about life. It was only when she looked closer that she could see something was wrong. The faces of these women were faces of people who were where they didn’t want to be.

They would be okay. They really would be okay, but they would only be okay as long as they abided by will of these men. Perhaps there did exist a good man with a good will. These men were not that man. These women had their own will.

“Brother!”

Ailaurus looked over her shoulder at the girl.

“I’m thirsty! Please!”

He entered the corner of her eye. There was a woman with him. He had an arm across her shoulders and the other arm held a torch. He was younger than she’d expected.

“I haven’t had water for days, please.”

She continued to say please, but her brother passed and she began to cry. Ailaurus watched him walk past them to the fire.

What are these people? Ailaurus thought. “How can you let somebody treat your sister like this?” she yelled at him.

The boy stopped and turned. The woman looked afraid. She was complacently calm as they passed, but now she was afraid. Around the fire, the women looked afraid. The men looked angry.

“Stop,” the girl behind her said, sobbing.

“How can you treat anybody this way?” Ailaurus yelled at him.

He took his arm off of the woman beside him, walked to Ailaurus and held the torch forward to light her face. Ailaurus looked him in the eyes. She nodded to the woman and asked, “Do you think she loves you?” The woman looked terrified now and stared at Ailaurus. The boy looked at the woman, then back at Ailaurus with a deep frown. “Is she here because she wants to be or she just another vict—”

“I do not care!” he yelled. “She is here because I wanted her here… Ododagon warned man that women would manipulate us with their bodies and their faces!”

Ododagon?

He raised the torch up. “You are a devil!”

Yes, she thought, That’s the fucking point.

He swung the torch down.

Ailaurus had been stabbed before. She’d been beaten before. She’d been hurt many times in many places. Her relationship with pain and injury had grown neutral. It was just a consequence. It happened.

But the panic she felt as a piece of her non-physical-self tore off from her was something she could never get used to. It hurt enough when she had the energy and now, her mind unable to cope with its own dissonance, she went to sleep not knowing if she would be the same when she woke.

The light of her mind was snuffed out by a song.

Ailaurus opened her eyes, her hands and ankles untied. Her weapons, mask and headdress lay at her feet. Bodies all around. She felt hollow. The sun had finished exhaling.

She looked up at the starry-skied face of the spirit. She looked over her shoulder, but the girl was gone.

T̷̨̀͆h̷͇̍e̴̡͕͝y̴̻͘'̶̭̑r̴̭̽e̸͖̓̂ ̴̙̍͌ͅa̸̳̞̓̇l̶̞͝l̵̤͌͝ ̷̮̗̽͒d̷̰̺̋̇e̵̼͆́ã̸͎̥̈́ḓ̴̛̦͂.̶͈̖͘

“You killed them?”

N̴͊ͅǒ̶̹.̵͇̈ ̷̝́Ṭ̶̕h̶̙́ě̵̝ÿ̶́͜ ̴̖̾t̷̗̓r̸͔̓ì̷̩e̵̞͆d̴̈́͜ ̷̤̈t̷́ͅơ̶̠ ̸̺̎f̵̼͑i̵̲̓g̸̮̔ḧ̸̯t̵̼̍ ̶̻̆b̶̨̌â̸͙c̸̭͑k̶̙͠.̸̦̈ ̶̜̍T̴̬̀h̶̡̛ẻ̸̙ ̵̹̏ḿ̵̬e̸͎͝n̴̻̓ ̶͔͛k̵̘̐ȋ̶̧l̵̘̑l̷̈́͜e̸̤͝d̶͈̋ ̶̪̾t̵̳͠h̵͙͑e̷͎̓m̴̩̀.̶͇͌

She looked all around her. Bodies. Men and women.

Ŷ̴̤o̶̭͝u̷̻͝ ̷͙̒w̷̨͑ẻ̵̥ŗ̶͒e̶̦̓ ̴̞̉m̵͕̃y̵͇̽ ̴̭̈p̷̹͆r̶̝̅ị̶̀o̴̭̍r̵̨͂i̵̮̋t̴̳͐y̵̖̚.̵̠̈́ ̷̜̈Ì̴̢ ̵̠̈́a̵̖͒m̶͖͂ ̴̨̍s̶̖͌o̵͔͛r̷̢̔ṙ̴̹y̴̫̋.̵̟͐

She sighed. “It’s alright… Thank you.” She struggled to her feet, her ankle screaming at her. The spirit vanished into her.

The First Woman of Hell walked through the field of corpses, heading for the village with the name of the new god on her mind.

The Woman of Hell [https://i.imgur.com/0BQd8c0.png]

Being Lerian meant being creative. They had to be creative if they wanted to live alongside animals or live in the trees. The creativity made the lives of the children, with all their free time, much more interesting.

Treyus, along with the entire village, watched the children tossing pinecones at each other. Nobody really knew the rules. Nobody knew who was winning either, but nobody cared. The children made a new game. That was entertaining enough. It all started with Ganthy. Its new friends had woven a cup and tied it to its wrists. Then they all had a woven a cup strapped to their arms. Then they were all throwing and catching pinecones with it.

Their new game became the villages event for the night. Treyus smiled because Ganthy smiled. He’d feared that Ganthy had lost faith in its own joy and he hoped this would bring that faith back.

Ailaurus limped through the crowd towards Treyus. She patted him on the shoulder when she got there, resting a bit of her weight on him. He looked at her.

“Ay-sha! Where were you? Why do you look like that?”

“On a walk… I’m fine. I’ll tell you about it later. What’s happening here?” She looked at Ganthy in the mess of children throwing pinecones around.

Treyus looked her up and down, then looked at Ganthy. “He found some friends. Said friends made a toy for him and now everybody has one.”

Ailaurus smirked and crossed her arms, watching Ganthy and the girl pass a pinecone back and forth… They were all dead, so they were safe for now, but she couldn’t get the thought of the god off of her mind. She leaned to Treyus and said, “Ododagon.”

Treyus looked at her.

“A new god whose ideal world is one where women are… I quote, At my feet; at my command.”

“What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything. They tied me up. I summoned the spirit.”

“Ah.” Treyus looked back at Ganthy, without a smile now.

“The women there were slave wives. Kidnapped. When the spirit killed most of them, the women tried to fight too and then men killed them.”

Treyus’ face darkened the more she told him.

“I’ve never heard of this god. He is a new god and his word started a cult. No church. Straight to a cult. I think Zathiri has a cult because Ododagon has a cult.”

Treyus leaned closer to hear her.

“The people I saw today were not sane. The people I killed last night were not sane… I think the cults are warfare between the gods. I think Ododagon started cults to threaten Zathiri’s followers. I think Zathiri started a cult because he was afraid of this Ododagon and he needed followers who could retaliate… Ododagon and Zathiri are in a race to kill him.” She nodded to Ganthy.

Treyus stood upright and took a deep breath. “This… may be a problem.”

Ailaurus nodded slowly.

The girl threw a pinecone high. Ganthy watched it go up, followed it, then watched it come down on its head and it froze. It looked at the girl for a moment as she apologized furiously. It then shook off the cups. It walked towards Treyus, then saw Ailaurus and ran to her. The girl chased after it, but it hid behind Ailaurus. Ailaurus looked down at one of the stumps that it touched to the back of her leg. Treyus got down on a knee to talk to Ganthy, but it closed its eyes and covered its ears.

Zathiri liked sacrifices. She knew that. It never mattered who it was, though. Somebody just had to die, but here Zathiri was competing with another god for the sacrifice of this child.

The spirit told her that Ganthy was strong, but what did that mean?

She stared at the stumps that it pressed to its ears.