The Cult of Sutek (29 page)

Andrasta grunted. “We should start searching them.”

Jahi tried to control himself. “All right.”

Staying hunched over, they began to work their way along the half wall. Andrasta popped her head inside the tunnels they passed, searching for one she felt comfortable taking. Many sloped up or angled off to the side. Similar to the tunnel they had just exited, several looked like they hadn’t been used in some time. They kept moving until Andrasta found one that suited her. Just as they were ready to duck inside, the chanting stopped. The loud drone moved to so complete a silence, Rondel froze.

“Brothers, we are on the cusp of a great occasion,” boomed a strong, even voice, words echoing off the cavern ceiling.

Jahi whispered. “I know that voice.”

Rondel turned away from the tunnel’s entrance and quickly scooted back to the half wall, once more peering over it. The others did the same. The man in the headdress spoke.

“Tomorrow when dawn breaks we will perform an ancient ceremony. The Heka. It has not occurred in centuries. It will honor Sutek above all others.” At the mention of Sutek’s name, the priest bowed as did the others in the space below.

“That’s Menetnashte,” said Jahi.

“Are you sure?” asked Andrasta.

Jahi narrowed his eyes. “Without a doubt.”

“The Heka used to be performed each year. Over time, followers of our god grew scared and bowed under the ridicule and threats of outsiders. They gradually reduced the frequency of this holy ceremony until it disappeared entirely. They were afraid to keep the old ways. Afraid to do what Sutek ordered us to do.” His voice went low. “No wonder, we lost his favor. No wonder we lost our power. But not after tomorrow. You’ve seen yourself how much stronger we’ve become in the short amount of time since I became Sutek’s mouthpiece. This is only the beginning!”

The cult cheered.

“In the old days when Sutek was pleased with his followers, he would grant his priest unrivaled powers. With the Heka, you will see that tenfold. All of Iget will be ours. And in time, so will the rest of Untan!”

The cultists erupted in cheers. It slowly faded back into chants. Menetnashte walked away, disappearing into a side corridor. A monster of a man, standing a head taller than the high priest, left with him.

That must be the bodyguard Horus spoke of.

“This is worse than I thought,” whispered Jahi.

“Why?”

“The Heka. It’s a very old practice. Barbaric. From sunrise to sunset, they will sacrifice one hundred women, one after the other.”

Andrasta swore.

Jahi swallowed. “It gets worse. Sutek’s followers rape the women before they sacrifice them.”

Gods, what did we get ourselves into.

“Well, there is some good news in all of this,” said Rondel. They looked to him. “They need a hundred women to perform the sacrifice. That means Dendera is likely alive.”

“It also means this place is bigger than we thought. Think of the space needed to keep that many people captive along with all these worshippers.”

“And those are only the ones we’ve seen. There are possibly others elsewhere.” Rondel winced knowing what was coming next.

“We need to split up after all,” said Andrasta.

I knew it.

* * *

Jahi mostly listened as Rondel and Andrasta formulated a quick plan, deciding which routes each would take as Andrasta found several other tunnels sloping downward. They all assumed the tunnels would lead them to the lower part of the cavern.

Jahi took the one on the far right. He had been frightened by the horrors of The Blood Forest and revolted by the sacrificial scene, but as he slowly worked his way down the looping tunnel he learned a new fear.

He knew he could defend himself with his sorcery, but the uneasiness of not having Rondel or Andrasta at his side, had him constantly looking over one shoulder. Even that fear was nothing compared to the fear of failure. Part of him knew that Dendera was dead and that everything he did was a waste. However, another part of him would not give up hope. That part of him thought about all his sister had done for him.

Even with no skills, I could see her doing the same thing that I’m doing now if it meant she might save me.

The chanting stopped. Unlike before, silence did not follow it. Instead, dozens of conversations erupted among Sutek’s followers. The ease with which they laughed and spoke reminded him of the soldiers in his father’s army. He edged to the tunnel’s opening which led to the vast chamber. He discovered the reason behind the merriment stemmed from conversations about which virgin would be theirs on the morrow.

“I like the short one from Meir.”

“The one with the soft face.”

“Yes. And the big brown eyes.”

“Let’s see how big those eyes get tomorrow, brother.”

The two snickered and walked down one of a dozen tunnels that led away from the cavern floor.

Jahi took a breath to calm himself, feeling heat rise in his palms.

If only I had the power, I’d bring this whole mountain down on them.

He shook away his thoughts as several figures appeared near the tunnel entrances carrying buckets. They wore loose robes of tan and offered water to the followers of Sutek who passed them.

Jahi noticed the lack of respect given to those in tan.

Servants.

One of the servants turned toward Jahi. He was pleased to see the face of a boy near his age.

A way in. But how to distract one long enough to take his robes?

A thought came to him.

* * *

Andrasta dressed quickly in the black and gray attire of a Sutek cultist. The difficult part had come when trying to extract information from the man before killing him. She had jammed a knife into his mouth so he could not pop loose the suicide pill hidden in his teeth. She had done this while persuading him it would be in his best interests to give her the information she sought.

She had worried for a moment the man would be so callous from his participation in Sutek’s disgusting acts, that he would be unphased by her threats.

But things change when the blade is held against your skin.

A prick at the man’s crotch, just enough to pierce his leathers and draw blood, had him whispering every piece of information he could think of about the cavern.

Andrasta had considered the suicide pill again.
Perhaps they take it so quickly not out of devotion to Sutek, but because they have no backbone to speak of.

Once she got the information she needed, she allowed him to swallow his precious pill so she would not have to worry about concealing spilled blood or putting holes in his disguise.

She adorned herself with the last of the man’s garb, a black head covering. Up close she saw it was decorated with silver etching. With only her eyes visible, she doubted anyone could tell who was underneath. For once she was thankful not to be a full blooded Juntarkan. She hoped that the brown tone visible around her eyes would mirror the sun-baked skin of many she had come upon in the region. The scar crossing her eyes would probably aid her in keeping her gender a secret. She snorted, thinking about how many times the painful memory had served her.

She left the man’s body in the small alcove and drifted out of the tunnel into one of several main corridors. She headed in the direction the man had said they kept the virgin captives.

Within five steps someone shouted at her from behind. She wheeled as a man hurried up to her.

“I’ve been looking all over for you, Wati,” the man hissed, hurrying her forward. “Come, they should be passing by any minute.”

A few moments later, Andrasta walked at the back of two columns. Each consisted of ten cultists. The man who caught her walked to the left.

Her eyes flicked in his direction as he kept throwing dissatisfied looks her way. Face uncovered, he had thick caterpillar-like eyebrows with a neat, black beard. Her hand casually drifted to the hilt of her sword.

“Where were you this time?” he whispered.

Andrasta shrugged.

“This is the last time I cover for you.”

“Silence,” someone snapped up front.

The man next to Andrasta scowled, but said nothing more. She lowered her hand from her sword. They were headed in the direction she wanted to go anyway.

* * *

Rondel made his way down a long, dark corridor, wearing the standard black and gray garb he had seen earlier. He was surprised at how quickly he had killed the man, surprised further that he had the strength to drag him out of sight before beginning his search for Dendera.

He had already walked through several of the cool passageways, doing his best not to appear suspicious, but it was getting harder to pull off as most others traveled in groups.

Maybe splitting up was a bad idea.

Regardless, he felt like he was making strong headway in his search as the current corridor he traversed was the first with doors over the openings. He opened the first couple easily enough, finding no sign of Dendera or anyone else. The rooms were stacked with food and other supplies.

Happy to find something that wasn’t human flesh within his reach, he gobbled down a handful of sweet, black cherries, spitting out the pits rapidly while stuffing a few apples and dates under his clothes.

The next door was locked with no obvious way inside. He pressed his ear against the door and heard nothing. He decided to take a chance and rapped his knuckles against the hard wood. After no response, he tried again, harder than before. Something slammed into the door with a loud
thud
, knocking him back. Thick snarls and skittering scratches sounded behind the door.

I doubt a hundred virgins would sound like that.

He continued checking each door until the corridor branched off in three directions. He chose the one on the left as he heard footsteps approaching from the two others.

The first door was unlocked. He eased inside to find another storage room, this one filled with large wooden barrels and shelves of small clay containers varying in size.

He expected to see a label for salted pork or brined fish on the barrels. Instead, the chemical symbol for phalogen, a half circle intersected with a right triangle, had been burned on a lid. He checked another barrel and saw the symbol for kilogen, a bowl with smoke drifting upward. At this point, his curiosity got the better of him and he continued checking the other barrels until he ran across one that caused him to step back carefully. A sun surrounded in fire stood bright on the barrel’s lid.

Urilaudium. Gods, Maskini was right.
Rondel thought about how no one at Horus’s party had believed what the minor noble said about Menetnashte having access to the substances.
That’s always the way. We ignore the ones who actually know what they’re talking about. And usually for stupid reasons.

He eyed the barrel again.
Why of all places was this door not locked?
Rondel knew urilaudium and kilogen together would create something scary, but he couldn’t quite remember phalogen. It struck him.

It is a natural stabilizer. So that means the other chemicals can be mixed safely until heat is introduced to the compound.

A small breath passed his lips while trying to relax.
It wouldn’t matter how many mercenaries Horus manages to buy. If Menetnashte brought this to the battlefield, it would be over before it ever really started. Gods, how did he even come by this much urilaudium? And why even bother with some crazy cult and sadistic ritual? Who needs some god that’s fallen out of favor when you can just blow up your enemies with this?

Voices came from behind.

“Why is the door open? Didn’t you lock it?”

“We were coming right back.”

“You idiot.”

Rondel spun as the door swung inward, striking the stone wall. Two cultists entered the space. They came to a halt. The surprise in their eyes told him he better have a good reason for being in the room. The taller one on the left started to open his mouth when Rondel cut him off.

“Wait, this isn’t the privy,” he said, hunching over as if in pain.

The man on the right blinked. “The privy?”

Rondel groaned. “Yes. Something isn’t settling right with me. I think I had one too many toes for dinner.”

“What does that have to do with you thinking this is the privy?”

“Grab him,” the other said. “We’ll take him to the high priest for questioning.”

Rondel hunched over further, backing away from the man, pretending he needed to vomit. He moved his hand away from his stomach, over to his sword hilt. “No. I’m just a bit dizzy is all. Forgot where I was. You know how it is when you start eating people. You have a glass of wine to wash it down. Then one glass turns to two . . . .”

He yanked his sword free and lunged, piercing the man closest to him in the groin. The cultist gasped as he went down next to a barrel of kilogen. Rondel yanked his sword back as the second man stepped away quickly, reaching for his own sword. Rondel swept his blade around. It sliced across his opponent’s forearm, causing him to lose grip on his half drawn weapon.

The man stepped back with a yelp. Anger flashed across his face. He charged. Rondel braced his legs, but the weight behind the charge threw him up against a stone wall. The man cursed, his breath lined with the awful stench of cooked human flesh Rondel had smelled earlier. They wrestled for Rondel’s sword.

Using the wall behind him, Rondel leveraged himself so he was able to raise one of his legs without falling over. He slammed the heel of his foot down on the instep of his opponent. The man faltered. Rondel threw the cultist to the ground, freeing his sword once more. He chopped down across the man’s neck, half severing his head. The first opponent still lay on the ground groaning, unable to muster enough energy to move while both hands pressed against the blood streaming from his groin.

“Tell me where the virgins are and I’ll make it quick,” said Rondel, staring at the man.

The injured man met his eyes and spat. He worked his jaw and leaned his head back. Rondel realized what the man was doing. He hurried to stop him from using the pill, but a white froth dribbled down the corners of his mouth.