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Yak Laughter [High Fantasy, Psychedelic]
CHAPTER 10 - The Ritual (I/IV)

CHAPTER 10 - The Ritual (I/IV)

CHAPTER 10

The Ritual

I

Ink-hi-yah-ku-twa-vi…

Ink-hi-yah-ku-twa-vi…

Ink-hi-yah-ku-twa-vi…

The temple shook, and Wilburn staggered, narrowly avoiding falling to the hot stone floor. It had begun. The chanting crowd marched up the steps of the hexagonal ziggurat, one step per syllable, the space between them shrinking with each concentric tier. By the time they reached the penultimate tier, a step down from the pavilion, the shoulders of their striped robes were almost brushing. There, the chanters halted and allowed the Category-Q to enter the temple first. The instant the golden blob crossed into the invisible circle, Wilburn and Iddo’s private thought-channel slammed shut.

Suddenly, Wilburn was alone. He became uncomfortably aware of the eyes of the Girl in Black targeting him from across the temple. She and he were the only people in the circle. Was Iddo’s shield still protecting him? No. Wilburn could feel that it wasn’t. There was nothing stopping the Girl in Black from mind-pummeling him to putty. So why didn’t she attack? Wilburn sensed nothing from the intimidating stranger. But of course, she knew how to shield—unlike him. He tried to swallow. His throat had gone very, very dry. How could your Astro avatar get a dry throat? He wished he could ask Iddo.

Wilburn could see Iddo, whose fur shone bluish in the moonlight, floating next to Alfajean and Buttrom, above and slightly behind the ring of chanters. They had obviously flown up to get a better view. They were close enough to have had a conversation with Wilburn in ordinary tones if there hadn’t been the several hundred hooded people chanting,

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Ink-hi-yah-ku-twa-vi…

Ink-hi-yah-ku-twa-vi…

Ink-hi-yah-ku-twa-vi…

to sonically compete with. As it was, Wilburn would’ve had to shout at the top of his lungs to be heard, and he felt very strongly that he didn’t want to do that. He saw Iddo turn and say something to Alfajean. The angel flashed a golden thumbs-up to Wilburn; Iddo nodded. Wilburn nodded back. In spite of his nerves, he couldn’t help grinning at the expression on Buttrom’s face—a discordant mixture of bewilderment, anxiety, despondency, and consternation. Iddo or Alfajean or both of them were making Buttrom fly, and he didn’t seem to be enjoying the experience as much as Wilburn had.

The Category-Q glided toward the altar, passing within a few feet of Wilburn, who took the opportunity to gaze into its translucent amber depths. He could see straight through it. The blobby surface acted as a lens, warping and yellow-tinting the world on the other side. The Q was about two-thirds the size of Iddo, lumpily egg-shaped, and beautiful. Wilburn sniffed curiously. An alluring aroma hung about the Q, as delicious as the brimstone was revolting. It reminded him of lemon meringue pie… plus the cool morning smell of dewdrops on flower petals. He wanted to run over and take a big bite of it. But he resisted the temptation, and the Q glided away toward the altar, where the Girl in Black’s blacker-than-black knife lay waiting.

The glowing blob rose above the altar and ascended one, two, three hundred feet at least to the vaulted ceiling, right to the center of the mandala of hexagons. At this distance the Q became a golden pearl, the crowning jewel of the architecture. The building quaked again, and this time Wilburn fell hard. He’d been caught flat-footed, staring upward with his neck craned back, and he managed to whack just about every piece of himself on the floor except his head. It hurt—like, for real.

But… hadn’t Iddo said he they were Astro projecting? Wasn’t this Parallelogram Space or whatever? Hadn’t Iddo said nothing could hurt you on the Astro Plane except magic and you could even go swimming in lava if you wanted to? Iddo had said all these things, of course. Iddo couldn’t be… wrong… could he?

Wilburn picked himself up off the floor and turned to Iddo with an imploring gaze. The yak gave him another small nod, which could’ve meant just about anything. Anything… Anything was what Wilburn would’ve given to hear Iddo’s thought-voice in his mind right then. But he had nothing to give anybody, and all he heard was:

Ink-hi-yah-ku-twa-vi…

Ink-hi-yah-ku-twa-vi…

Ink-hi-yah-ku-twa-vi…