Azaria (48 page)

As his head began to twirl, he laid on his back and closed his eyes. He slept fitfully after that, slipping into and out of hallucinatory consciousness. When he did sleep, bane visions haunted him.

Azerban sat crouched beneath the high grasses of an open field. Although his head was below the cover of the wild prairie stalks, he knew the lone gazelle was there. As the wind shifted, he crawled closer. Very near now, he could detect the buck’s scent in his nostrils. A roar trumpeted in the distance, its deep tones reverberating over the surrounding rolling hills. Spooked, the gazelle took flight, headed almost directly for him. Azerban was startled, but managed to stand up and swing his spearthrower in a wide arc over his shoulder. But it was an errant throw - the spear flew too high. He swore angrily at his rare miss. The gazelle altered course only paces from him. He readied another shaft as he pursued his prey. Before it had fled out of reach, he cast his second spear. The gazelle turned sharply again and then vanished down a depression in the landscape, with the prairie grasses swallowing his harmless projectile. Azerban raced after the gazelle, intent on cutting it off at an angle if it turned again.

As he reached the point where his prey had pivoted, he looked down the hill and to his astonishment saw something he'd never seen before. A monstrous beast stood before him, its body the size of a small mountain and neck the length of the tallest tree, punctuated at the end by a head not much wider, but imposing nonetheless. Azerban knew this monstrous creature. It was one of the Ta’ar’s beasts, the ones legend told were used to construct the first Temples. The beast was impossibly massive. Stopping in his tracks, he turned to flee. The earth shook as the giant lumbered behind him. Its thundering call shook the air, rattling through his body, leaving him deafened and aching. The world around him was silent now, as Azerban fled wildly through the tall grasses. He looked back just as the gargantuan head dove down for him. And then he tripped and sailed through the air for what seemed an eternity.

Just before hitting ground, Azerban wailed out as the Ta'ar's Minion's crushing jaws tore his flesh, raising him up before throwing him down onto the hard ground. When he hit dirt he lie limp and broken, the final light just a breath away. He summoned every ounce of strength left in his fractured body and rolled into a shallow crevice, watching helpless as the plodding creature swept over him. Azerban gripped the Ta'araki amulet around his neck and called out. 'Why have you sent your beast for me? Save me...' As if in defiance to his plea the beast rounded a wide arc and faced him again. Too terrified to move, Azerban tightened his fingers around the stone until blood ran down his wrist. He called out, "Why have you forsaken me?" But it continued to come. Its head rose up one final time and came down upon him.

Azerban closed his eyes and waited for the end, relieved only that it would be quick. But it took too long to come. He felt foul breath envelop him and wondered why it stalled. The air turned fetid and vile. It sickened him and he turned his head to gag. Suddenly a fresh breeze passed over and cleansed the stench away. He opened one eye, wondering why the creature had not finished him. Its head had turned north, its attention diverted by some other unfortunate thing. Soon it was stomping away. Azerban drug himself out of the small ditch and resting his head on the ground saw what it was that had distracted the beast. His daughter lay atop the altar, bound and motionless.

The Ta'ar's Minion was headed for the Great Temple. Azerban raised his head and called out once more, "No, not Azaria! Take me instead. Take me..."

Someone shook his arm. "Azerban! Wake up! The others are nearly ready for you!"

He woke thoroughly soaked. He pulled his hand to his chest, feeling his heart pound as if he'd just sprinted to Boar Camp and back. Light was poking through the cracks of his traveling tent and the coals of his fire were long extinguished. As his eyes adjusted, his mind spun again. "What? Ready for what?" he answered groggily.

"The ritual, Ta'araki. You must prepare yourself. They thought you'd be ready by now."

Azerban opened his eyes and closed them again, the harsh light from the open entrance blinding him. "What?" he asked again, "The ritual?" As he regained a small semblance of sanity, he remembered the ceremony. "How high is the sun?" he demanded.

"Almost above, Ta'araki. You must get up."

His heart pounded almost as brutally as his head throbbed.
The Equinox. I must perform the ritual. But what happened? Did I sleep through the entire morning? Or is this just another night terror?

"Water? Get me some water?" he begged.

A cup was handed to him as he sat up, shaking his head groggily, struggling to catch his bearing. "It is the Equinox?" he asked.

"Yes, Ta'araki. You have a few moments, but you must hurry."

"Fine then, tell them I'll be along soon," he answered, not even sure who it was he was commanding.

He stood and wiped the sweat off his body and felt his stomach growl. He had the sudden urge to dispel the contents of his bowels, but ignored it. Then he saw the second bowl Manumen had given him, a few of its potent contents left still. He picked the small bowl up and held it to his lips, letting the remainder slide down. He chewed furiously before heading out into the sunlight and then spit what was left to the ground.

Azerban stumbled to the Great Temple and climbed the ladder that led atop the circular stone wall, already again feeling the effects of Manumen's gift. He climbed the second ladder to the platform where he met Takur standing before the altar.

On top of it lay his daughter, her shallow breathing the only sign of life. In his intoxicated state, he didn’t notice her wheezing had lessened.

Takur whispered into his ear as he arrived by his side, "I told them you gained her consent and drugged her so she wouldn’t have to look into your eyes as you made the cut, as I was sure you intended." Takur looked his Second over cautiously, half expecting a blade to cut his own throat. But he could see Azerban had few wits left and realized his Second meant to hold to his word. His fear left him, replaced by a simple smile. His mate’s wish would finally be fulfilled. The Ta’ar would soon return. If only she could be here to greet Them. Or perhaps Fahim would return to introduce him to Them.

"Yes, thank you... Ta'araki," Azerban replied, his head spinning violently now.

He looked down at the restful form of his daughter, and as Manumen had promised, felt little. He knew what must be done. "Ta'araki, go ahead with the... preparation... let me know when you... ready," he mumbled.

"Very well, my Second," Takur replied.
This is it, my love. It’s done. The father gives his daughter willingly. Surely They will join us now.
He wondered if the return would be immediate or if They would make him wait a few suns. His thoughts turned to the sacred chants, searching for some knowledge of the events surrounding Their comings in the past.

After the other Ta'araki had taken positions upon the roughly circular platform, Takur began the rite. "Great Ta'ar! Watchers of the Natu! Your children beg of You. We ask You take this Gift, this young untouched up to Your off-world Dominion. We ask You to bless her, and all..."

Azerban swayed as he listened, the words having little meaning for him. His mind drifted, finding it hard to concentrate on what the elder said. He let his eyelids fall and saw Zephia's smiling face. Not the Zephia he'd seen last, but the strong one, the one he'd joined with. Next to her he saw his daughter, smiling also, beckoning for him to join them.

"...tear her flesh and free her soul..." he heard Takur say upon opening his eyes. He closed them again and saw his son, fully grown, a tall, strapping, beautiful man racing toward an imposing wooly rhinoceros. He watched as Quzo slung back his spear-thrower and flung it gracefully, yet ferociously forward. The spear soared high, rising above the gentle plain before arcing down and plunging into the neck of the truculent beast. The hairy monster turned fiercely, rearing up slightly on its hind legs before digging its back hooves into the ground and charging in the direction of the offensive. Quzo held his ground, patiently waiting, easing another spear into the notch in his thrower with practiced skill, aiming for its small, dark eye. He intended to wait until the last moment and plunge it through the great animal's ocular socket and deep into its brain.

Quzo took a deep breath and brought the loaded thrower back.

But the beast slowed considerably with the massive loss of blood from the first strike. Before it ever reached its target, the rhino fell in a heap, smashing the unfortunate flat grasses that lay in its way.

"Azerban, Azerban!" Takur whispered harshly. "Now. Prepare your blade."

Azerban shook his head, having been brought back to the moment. "What? Yes..." He held the ceremonial knife high in the air and watched the Ta'ar's minions circling above him. He tried to speak the right words, but could only mumble incomprehensibly. He shook his head again and smiled as he recalled the vision of his grown son. The vision was an omen, a promise. His son would survive.

Azerban brought the blade down to his daughter's neck.

He held it there a long moment, his breath shallow, his heart pounding, his forehead glimmering with a profusion of warm sweat. Staring at the lids covering her radiant, golden eyes, he wished he could meet them once more. One last look. He took a deep breath and slid his left hand from her forehead, down her pale brow.

"Azerban! What are you doing? Now! Do it now!!" Takur commanded. He was almost screaming, nearly driven to tantrum.

Azerban sighed. The world rolled in front of him. He placed his hand back atop her head, forcing it back to expose the neck once more. He shut his own eyes tight and inhaled a deep breath. In the darkness he pressed the blade into her external carotid artery. Takur saw a bead of crimson red fluid build at the puncture wound and then grow and drop down the side of her neck. His own stomach churned. He had to swallow to keep its contents down. What they were doing was unthinkable, but it was what They wanted. What They demanded.

Azerban took a last deep breath and pulled the blade across, tearing the skin open as a torrent of blood gushed forth from the wound, down her neck and onto the altar.

"Azerban! Stop!" a voice behind him called. Despite his incapacitated state, he recognized it.

"Stop, Azerban! Put the blade down!" the young voice commanded again.

It's too late boy, it's over.
Perhaps this is your fault. Perhaps if you hadn't betrayed her, she wouldn't have been lost to despair and the spirits wouldn't have overcome her so easily.

Then he opened his eyes and bent over to kiss his beloved daughter one final time.

But his daughter was stirring.

Her neck was still closed, although a small trickle of blood was rolling down the side.

It was just another vision.

Suddenly his wit returned and Azerban realized what he was doing. He ripped his arm away from her, dropping the knife to his feet. He spun and saw Dogahn and Tiriz on the ground, both wielding spear-loaded throwers, trained directly on him and Takur.

"What are you doing?" Takur screamed. He pushed Azerban away, quickly bent down and picked the ceremonial blade up. "You two! Get these children out of here," he exploded, commanding two hunters standing watch on either side of the Temple wall.

"Stay still!" Dogahn ordered them. "If either of you comes close, we'll kill them both."

"You don't know what you're doing, boy!" Takur yelled. "You'll be banished for life for interfering in Ta'araki matters!"

"Maybe so, but I'm not leaving here without Azaria alive," Dogahn yelled.

Just then, Azerban smashed his arms into Takur's, knocking the knife out of the old man’s hands. It bounced off the platform and down into the center of the Temple. Then he shoved Takur in the chest with both hands, sending him flying and landing heavily on the wooden platform.

Azaria, waking now dazed and unsure as to exactly what was occurring, sat up on the altar. "Father? What is happening?" she asked.

"Everything is all right now, daughter," he assured her. He turned to Dogahn, "It's okay, Dogahn. Put your spears down. No blood will be shed this sun."

Finally convinced of her safety, Dogahn nodded to Tiriz and the two laid their spears on the ground, ready to accept whatever punishment would be meted out against them. One of the hunters, his own spear fixed on them, hurried over. Azerban turned to his daughter, her legs dangling off the side of the altar. He wiped at the blood dribbling down her neck. "What is happening, father?" she asked again.

"Nnnnooooooo!" another shrieking voice rang out as a figure darted from the forest. Startled, Dogahn turned to the cedars behind him and saw a blurry form accelerating toward him, wielding another spear thrower. Yumineh took a bounding step forward and let her weapon fly. He watched her spear fly over his head and heard a thud before his eyes were able to catch up with it. When they finally did, he saw Azaria topple back onto the altar, Yumineh's spear impaled in her lower torso, thrown with such force that the tip had completely torn through her back, leaving both entrance and exit wounds.

"Nnnooooo!" Dogahn and Azerban screamed as one.

"Hadir," Azerban called, quick to respond despite his drugged state. "Come here." He swiftly broke the end of the spear and slid the remaining shaft out of his daughter's body.