Chapter 20
The Dark Portal
Ydom, Kingdom of Hannibal
Tellus had not spoken much since they left Kartzet. That man who took Shoshanna, who did all those terrible things, he deserved what he got. He deserved it, but it did not stop her from feeling awful about it afterward. Even now, when she thought about him as he burned, about the anger that blinded her to everything...
When she refused to talk, Shoshanna tried reaching out to her through her mind, as they used to do before she learned their language. However, Tellus rebuffed her efforts. Maybe if Shoshanna really wanted, she could force her way in, but she did not do that. Maybe she knew Tellus was going to have work through this one her own, which is why she made Tobias abandon his clumsy efforts to comfort her.
They were in the next town, Ydom if she remembered correctly, having found modest lodgings for the night. Maybe this time none of them would be drugged and carried off to be butchered like a lamb at the meat market. This one did not even make a fuss about Tym'r being in the room with them.
Tellus tried to sleep. She closed her eyes, but sleep would not come. She had been having trouble sleeping the past few days. Just when she was starting to feel comfortable and safe with Tobias, too...
There was something else, though. She first noticed it when they were some distance from town and it kept getting stronger the closer they got. It reminded her a little of her mother's call, but it was not the same presence. It reminded her of the feeling she had when she was imprisoned, whenever they would snuff out the torch in her cell. It was the sort of presence you ought to stay away from, but the she could not resist the voice.
She opened her eyes and got up, looking around at the others. It turned out that she was traveling with a group of light sleepers because every single one of them woke up.
"Tellus?"
Shoshanna would be the most troublesome so Tellus stretched out her hand and put her to sleep before she could interfere. Tym'r was next. He started to move, but Tellus put him right back down. That left Tobias, who was still trying to figure out what was going on when Tellus put him to sleep as well.
Perhaps it was not quite right to say that she was doing it. It was like her body and her powers were acting of their own accord. They wanted to answer the call and her own will did not have much say in the matter.
She made her way out of the inn and into the streets. The call would guide her.
It was like she was in a dream, floating along. She soon found herself at a small cottage by the riverside, but she did not remember a thing about how she got there, how far she went, any of it. The door was open and the call was stronger than ever, so she let herself in.
Inside the cottage, a trapdoor in the floor lay open, so she went down the rough-hewn stairs to what appeared to be a natural cavern that ran under the river. It was dark and damp and any ordinary person would probably be frightened. Even if Tellus was afraid, the call was stronger than any fear.
The cavern opened up into a sort of chamber. There was something like a stone table set before what appeared to be a doorway. Tellus ran her hand along the stone table as she walked by it to approach the doorway. That was where the call was coming from.
There was no door, though. It was like the surface of the water, so inky black that it stood out even in the darkness of the cave. She reached out to touch the dark waters. After that, there was nothing.
* * *
Dorn emerged from the shadows the moment the girl collapsed. She was not like the others. She had power. She was dangerous. The Master told him to leave the way open and to wait, so that was exactly what he did. Now he could begin the ritual.
He went over to the girl and picked her up, then laid her on the altar. His hands trembled a little as he unlaced her nightshirt. He did not like the sight of flesh and hated the feel of it even more. Perhaps that was why he became a tailor, to cover the shame. How fortunate that the Master did not demand his offerings laid bare as some cults were said to do. Truly the Master was merciful.
Dorn only needed to expose enough skin that he might make the shallow cut down the breastbone, then dip his finger in the blood to trace the mark upon the heart and upon the forehead. In the case of other offerings, he would have to take the bodies to the river once the Master was done feasting on them, but this one was different. She was more than mere fodder for the Master's sustenance.
He took the knife over to the Dark Portal and dipped the edge into the waters. He was careful not to touch the waters with his hand lest he end up like the girl—no, it would be far worse for him. When he pulled the blade out, the girl's blood that still clung to the blade was now black, not that you could much tell the difference in the dark. Dorn knew, though. He could feel the Master's presence soaked into the blade.
Dorn returned to the girl and pressed the edge to the wound on her chest, mixing her natural blood with the blood on the blade touched by the Master's power. Even though she did not wake, the girl writhed in pain as the Master's presence filled her. Soon she would be made to serve the Master just as he had been. Her power would make her a superior vessel to him. He did not begrudge it, though. Better to be the least among the Master's servants than the greatest of those foolish enough to stand against him.
What sort of purpose would this girl serve? Surely she was meant for more than offering up sacrifices. Might she become the priestess of a new order leading the people in service to the Master? Perhaps she would birth a vessel so that the Master might walk among men. How would the Master go about doing that? Would it be by some miracle, like Maria of the Yeshui, or would it be done the natural way? Who would be fit for such an honor? Surely not Dorn himself and he was grateful for it.
He once had a little wife, not so unlike this girl. If his daughters had lived, would they have grown up like this girl? Might his son have loved a girl like this? It was foolishness to think on such things.
The only reason he could entertain such foolish thoughts was because there was nothing more for him to do but wait while the ritual ran its course. The power within the girl was resisting the Master's presence. It was a futile effort. The Master would prevail in the end. The girl would only suffer in the meantime.
Dorn nearly jumped out of his skin at the great and terrible din that sounded like something—or someone—falling down the steps to the cave.
"Tobiyah, are you alright?" a woman's voice asked.
"I'll be fine," a man's voice replied. "Watch your step. It's slippery."
"So much for surprise," another man's voice said, though it was so rough that it could barely be called human.
Dorn retreated into the shadows, holding his knife at the ready. Who were they? Burglars? Why were then even bothering with a house like his?
"The girl is here," the rough-voiced man said. "There is another, a man. I smell his fear... and blood."
"He is afraid," the woman replied, "but less of us than the one he calls Master. There is a presence here beyond my powers, but I can feel it."
"This place is more ill-omened than last hole we found ourselves in," the rough-voiced man said. "We ought not linger here."
Who were these people? Companions of the girl, all with powers of their own? What could Dorn hope to do? May the Master give hims strength.
"There," the woman's voice said and Dorn felt his body freeze.
There was a young man, a knight, apparently the one who fell down the stairs, who went straight to the altar and the girl.
"Tellus!"
He looked at the girl and then to one of his companions and asked, "What did he do?"
Dorn felt something like hot pins boring into his skull. His jaw moved, but it was the woman's voice speaking his words.
"The ritual.. The Master commanded... She shall become the Master's own..."
"What do we do?" the knight asked.
"It is beyond my power," the woman replied.
"We must take her from this place," the rough-voiced man—who was no man at all but rather a hulking beastmen—said. "We can figure out the rest later."
No! They could not be allowed to interfere with the Master's plan, but there was nothing Dorn could do.
The beastman glared directly at him. The shadows could not conceal him from a beast's eyes.
"What do we do with this man?"
"He has killed many," the woman said, "and he will kill many more. His master demands it."
"Then I will see that he kills no more," the beastman said.
"Wait!" the knight cried out. "Remember your word!"
"Will you hold me to that now?" the beastman asked angrily. "The guilt of blood is upon this man. Blood washes blood. Or do you feel it is your duty to mete out justice by your own hand, knight of Hannibal?"
"We cannot turn him over to the watchman, Tobiyah ben Yishak," the woman said. "And we need to make haste and seek treatment for Tellus."
Was Dorn just going to stand there while these intruders argued over how they were going to kill him? It was not so much that he was afraid of dying. There were worse things than death, mainly displeasing the Master. If he was going to die, let it be in service to the Master.
With a surge of sheer will, Dorn strained against the witch-woman's hold on him. His veins bulged and blood began to trickle down from his nose, his ears, even his eyes. Though it seemed like his body might tear itself apart first, he started to move. The knight was closest to the girl, so he was the one Dorn went after. Screaming, he charged at the knight.
"Look out!" the witch-woman cried.
Dorn did not get far when something hit him hard, knocking him back into the cave wall. He struck his head and everything went black. It would seem that he failed the Master after all.