Heikk’s meager progress impressed Juddken. Even on a broken ankle, Heikk and Urash’s guard already dislodged two of the massive boulders that blocked their passage to the outside. It looked to be tedious work, and Juddken could only guess how long completing the task would take, but it wasn’t as if the prisoners had anything better to do.
Upon returning to Urash’s room, Juddken had created less of a fuss. It wasn’t his fault that Okkan had told him to push Heikk down the stairs! The God had been screaming at him, so loud that Juddken barely registered Urash’s barbed insults. Such was the price of communicating with higher deities.
But these matters no longer concerned Juddken. Okkan called to him again, beckoning him to explore the triangular passageway. The crotchety old man claimed it led to the Great Temple, and although Juddken had no reason to trust him, it was all the reason to listen to Okkan.
“ c o m e ATONCE j u d d k e n ”
Okkan’s voice had become several. Juddken counted at least eight distinct tones, though at this moment he only heard two: there was a light wisp of a voice, almost feminine, enticing. It was constantly whispering in his ear throughout the day, becoming a background noise of sorts. Recently though, it started being undercut by a neurotic yelling before the whispering voice took its place again.
“ c r a w l t h r o u g h t h e d i r t YOUARECOMMANDED t o s t e p f o r t h ”
Juddken had to answer the call. His lord demanded his presence.
Juddken knew Heikk would not break his confines any time soon. After checking on the crawl space, Juddken returned to the shrine of Ati, thumbing his nose at it while he did so. He then entered the triangular passageway.
Urash was correct: the tunnel was too small for comfort. At first, Juddken tried to crouch, but he wasn’t flexible enough to do it for long. After attempting it for about fifty meters, he shifted to a crawl. It was difficult in his set of armor, but his knees and ankles thanked him for it. He crawled for about half an hour in darkness, feeling the abnormal smoothness of the stone become almost slippery, to the point to where he struggled to get any sort of holding. It left him alone with his thoughts for a very long time.
“ -t h e l o r d d e s i r e s PENANCEANDDEDICATION f o r a c o n d u i t TRUEANDVIOLENT t o b a r e w i t n e s s t o t h e ALMIGHTY a n d-“
Juddken wished he could beg for mercy. He tried to respond to Okkan in his mind, but his voices paid no attention. They preached on and on without relent. He struggled to make sense of the message, but then again, he knew he was not the most intelligent person. He wondered whether his father heard the voices as well, but his educated background allowed him to decipher the nuances.
After an unbearable amount of crawling, Juddken noticed a small flicker of a flame in front of him. Drawn like a month, he increased his speed. The flame filled out the area between the triangular outline of the tunnel, and the strong, spicy smell of brown ash overwhelmed him.
When Juddken exited the tunnel, he realized he was without a doubt in the Great Temple. The sandstone architecture was far more sound and aesthetically pleasing than anything else above ground. But he had never been in this room. It was a large space, with ancient Shadeonite script etched its way into every corner, but it was less smoothed than the temple above. Within, he saw eight elaborate sculptures similar to the ones in the Manor garden, next to eight columns that rose about five meters above his head. A raised platform with several throne-like chairs adored in silver lined the wall across from him, and several stone slabs filled the rest of the room. In the middle lay a small moat that cut the room into two halves, filled with dirty, motionless water.
“ b l e s s e d r o o m b l e s s e d r o o m b l e s s e d r o o m “
Before Juddken could appreciate the lasting power of the several torches, he spotted a massive pile of blood in front of him. Someone, or something, had bled recently.
Then he heard it. Subtle laughter mixed with heavy breathing. Juddken wasn’t alone.
Juddken unsheathed a dagger and held it at his side. He rounded one of the pillars, noting a helmeted statue that depicted an overly muscle-bound man with a beard that covered his belly. It was the classical depiction of Okkan, his massive size adequately symbolizing his domineering influence. At the base of the statue was a woman with bright red hair, frizzled and disheveled. She was wearing what appeared to be a pink dress, though Juddken quickly corrected himself. In fact, it was once white, but now appeared to be stained with blood and mud.
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“Oh, Okkan,” the woman said in a euphoric drawl, “have you blessed me with another sacrifice? Were the others not enough for you, o’ great one?”
As the woman rose, Juddken held out his dagger, only to realize that he was looking at one of the missing Heads. The visage of Shimsusa Gishammar was easily recognizable. As religious as he was, her level of devotion had always been eccentric, even amongst the other Okkan worshippers. She always included prayers for Okkan in as many sentences as possible. It always struck Juddken as insincere, or desperate.
Whoever that woman was before was long gone. This Shimsusa appeared ragged, her clothes misshapen and mostly torn, displaying her voluptuous body. And then there was the blood. She was dripping in it; the blood staining the entirety of her once white dress. Outlines of her makeup remained, though it pooled and dried around her cheeks in the shape of discolored tears.
“Bless you, bountiful thunder! You have delivered upon me yet another blight. Sanctus filled me so! Give me his strength, and I will make an example of him. It is the boy… the seed of Boah, that wicked man. Let me paint the floor with his blood!”
Juddken hissed at Shimsusa, pointing his knife directly at her face. How foolish she was to be so confident. The voices certainly shared their opinions as well.
“ d u m b b i t c h DUMBBITCH d u m b b i t c h d u m b d u m bBITCH”
“My poor, sweet child,” Shimsusa groaned. “Do not be afraid. We have simply lost the old ways. The correct ways. Oh, how we’ve diluted our souls with the idea that a simple holiday would satisfy a God such as Okkan. No, we have insulted our lord, and he has punished Ashfolk for their indiscretion. We have lost the faith in our search for piety… But I have been relinquished the hold the Witch has held over me by turning to the ways of the Steppe.”
As Shimsusa rambled, Juddken noticed the staining of her teeth. They were dark red. Behind her, he finally saw what Shimsusa had been standing over. A mangled naked body of a man, stripped of flesh around the torso and the thighs lay sprawled along the base of the statue. It was decomposing, but still plump.
Shimsusa turned her head as Juddken noticed the body, and her smile split her face. “Enlil denied me for too long. He shunned me for what I had done to the others, claiming we were defiling their souls, but once the hunger set in, it wasn’t long before he too turned to the old ways. The flesh grows rotten fast, and Okkan demanded another sacrifice… Brotherly flesh tastes sweet. Never before have I been so satiated.” She cackled as she recounted her story, leaning forward as if caught off balance. She held her arms outward, brandishing what appeared to be two small daggers, each stained with the blood of the high priest.
Juddken kept his distance. Shimsusa had succumbed to depravities he could have never imagined, even with the current state of things. She had always been a fanatic, so wasn’t a surprise that she would degenerate to such a disgusting state after being isolated for so long. Okkan indeed required sacrifice, but to do so in such an archaic way was abhorrent even to a God of violence.
Still, she was here. She had more daggers than Juddken, and who knew how feral she could be? If Juddken had brought his spear with him, he would have made quick work of her.
“Come satiate me, boy,” Shimsusa groaned, stepping forward. “Let us become one under Okkan.” As she got closer, Juddken got a better look at the knives she carried. They were pure white, filed down spikes. They appeared to be made of bone.
For a fleeting moment, Juddken let fear take hold of him. He was almost paralyzed, like he was when he first descended the stairs. He had been certain Okkan chose his father to be his conduit, and that he received his blessing as well. But maybe he was mistaken. The high priestess had sacrificed so much, perhaps that was what Okkan demanded. The stories Juddken heard of the starving tribes resorting to cannibalism to appease Okkan may have had more truth than he realized.
But the voices kept mumbling in his mind. They repeated the same phrase over and over.
“ d u m b b i t c h d u m b b i t c h d u m b b i t c h ”
No. She was the one who should be afraid.
Juddken stepped forward and stuck his knife in Shimsusa’s stomach. She gasped, releasing her bony daggers. Shimsusa fell into Juddken, trying to grasp his armor. She looked at him in awe, as if she had thought herself invulnerable until this very moment.
Juddken pulled her closer against his armor and stabbed her again, this time below her ribs. Shimsusa hiccuped, looking down at her belly briefly before her eyes rolled up into her head. Juddken released her, and she fell to the ground. She moved no longer.
Juddken sheathed his dagger as he stepped over her limp body. He looked around the room at the grisly scene. He would have to dispose of the bodies in some manner. As he scanned the room, he approached the brawny statue Shimsusa had been praying under. It was a beautifully sculpted design, most likely imported from one of the artisan cities along the coasts. It would have cost a fortune to transport, let alone design.
But it was wrong. This was a false image, grossly oversimplified and easily consumable to the masses. The true Okkan was many, as Juddken realized. To summarize his being in such a simple form was improper.
Shimsusa was a false prophet. So was Enlil, and the witch. The healer had come from far away to drive a wedge between his father and the city. They all paid for it with their lives. Ash was beyond corrupted, and beyond forsaken. Only Boah and Juddken could save it now. They had to do it the right way.
But despite all that, Juddken wondered whether Shimsusa had gotten something right.
Juddken returned to Shimsusa’s body and grabbed her dirty, matted red hair. He pulled it above her forehead and brought his dagger to her hairline.
“Dumb bitch,” Juddken thought as he began slicing through Shimsusa’s scalp.