Demon Child: Chapter 20
A new Aga Khan.
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The regiment was surrounded by the growing mass of people. As a single being, they moved as if in a trance, their eyes locked upon the scarlet temple in the distance. They raised their voices as one, a boundless, pervading melody that pulsed through Aylanna's body and spirit. It was a call and an exaltation that poured into her heart.
The crush and flow of the crowd was irresistible. There was no option but to be swept along as the worshipers surged onward. One by one, the Twisted Dagger warriors became separated from the column, slipping from the backs of their mounts, their faces taking on the rapt expressions and their voices lifting up in the mind consuming chorus. Aylanna fought to stay close to Jhardron, struggled to keep her mind clear but there was no fighting the overwhelming numbers or the hypnotic seduction of the song.
There was no fear, no sense of danger. Instead there was a pervasive sense of joy and anticipation. Something was calling her and she was compelled to answer that call. Soon all she was aware of was the sensation of being carried along, her awareness expanding until she lost all sense of herself. She merged and became one with each and every one of the worshipers.
There was no memory of slipping from the back of her stallion. Faces would swim into her vision and then disappear. Bodies jostled her, but hands reached out to steady her and she found herself doing the same, instinctively helping the others along, unaware that she too hummed and sang the same song that reverberated through them all.
As they drew closer to the temple, the press did nothing but grow tighter until finally at the very base of the temple the crowd could not move forward another inch. The pyramid seemed to reach the sky, a series of wide tiers that rose up and up, forcing her to tip her head back as she looked up. The sense of waiting, of pent up anticipation surged up and over her and the sea of supplicants stopped singing as one. It was as if the entire world was holding its breath.
There was a movement, a figure dressed in pristine white appeared in an open archway and then another and another. Dozens of identically dressed priestesses filed out and stood along the lip of the lowest tier. As one they raised their arms up to the sky, their voices in unison, intoning the ancient invocation of Pan'Shash'Sha'Am. Their song celebrated her return to her home, thanked her for the gift of her tears and begged for her love and her gift of fertility for all her children. With each line, their words were repeated and reflected by the throng.
Gradually the timbre of the incantations began to change, transforming from joy and welcoming of the goddess's return to something more desperate. A charged, pleading, imploring cry rose up. The priestesses abruptly tore away their white robes and stood proud and nude in the sunlight. They began to call out to Jha'Mak'Tah, begging him to join the goddess. And as they cast their clothing down and their pleas up toward the sky, the mood of the horde transformed, the tension of anticipation reached a crescendo and a wave of palpable sensuality crashed through the press of flesh.
Male supplicants began to scramble up the staircases and once they reached the assembled priestesses, they threw themselves upon the waiting women in a mindless mating frenzy. Those that could not reach the stairs turned toward the nearest female form and they were met with willing arms. Within seconds the whole of tableau was a mass of writhing bodies. Aylanna had no memory of pulling her dress from her body or who it was that she pulled down upon her; she was not mating with any single man, any one woman, she was connected to the all.
There was no sense of the passage of time. There was no knowing how long the orgiastic trance of the goddess compelled them to reenact the first primal act of mating between god and goddess. It was long after dark when one by one; a spent individual would untangle themselves from the dazed, somnolent carpet of bodies and make their way back home. By morning light only a small number remained, some still limp upon the ground, others sitting watching the new sun rise up and reveal the trampled grass littered with discarded clothing. A few white clad priestesses wandered from one person to another, checking on their health and urging them to go home.
When one knelt down and gently touched her forehead with a blessing, Aylanna blinked and shook her head, trying to clear the fog from her mind. Still bemused she blurted out, "What... how..."
"It was the Saturnalia, the greeting of the new sun and the first day of a new year. All are caught up in the frenzy of the goddess and her lover. It was a potent omen that the goddess chose to return now at this time of upheaval in our land. And you are the strange being that a certain warrior has been seeking after half the night. Come, let me help you stand." Aylanna blinked and groped clumsily for her crumpled dress lying nearby in the sodden grass. The priestess smiled gently and helped her to pull it over her head. "We should hurry, the young man that seeks you was very anxious, something about the council."
Aylanna's legs trembled with weakness as she trotted along behind the priestess. Curious she looked at this new person more closely. Her head was shaved, a short stubble of grey turning her smooth black scalp ashen. She was older, thick through the body, wearing a simple white shift. Her only decoration was her massive bead necklace that showed her long service to the goddess. They did not approach the pyramid, instead the older priestess took off at a determined pace toward the confusing mound of squares and windows that made up the court of the Aga Khan.
It was the first time Aylanna had really looked at the court of the Aga Khan in the clear light of day, unobscured by clouds, mist or rain. It looked more like a mound of rubble than a building. She made a pained face; the outside of the despicable place reflected the convoluted plots and machinations that pervaded every action of its devious inhabitants. Without thought she cleared her throat and spat.
It was not Jhardron that stood impatiently beside a line of tethered stallions, it was Jhu'kresh. The second in command visibly relaxed as soon as he saw her, beckoning to her urgently. "Ha'akh, you are summoned by the council. We must hurry."
His urgency was obvious but as she tried to mount the tall stallion, her weak and wobbly legs failed to lift her up. He grabbed her about the waist and nearly threw her up into the saddle. He grabbed the lead rope and kicked his mount into a headlong gallop toward the court. In minutes they were inside and Aylanna was pulled from the saddle and literally running through the maze of hallways. There was no time to speak, to ask a single question, to even think about what may lay ahead of her.
As she was hurried through the meandering corridors, Aylanna could not help but notice the strange absence of guards. The Court of the Aga Khan was deserted, the hallways were strangely empty, no sentries stood at the doorways. There was not even the usual sense of perpetual watchers. The first people she saw were a pair of priestesses that stood beside the entrance of the great meeting chamber but they did not challenge Jhu'kresh or Aylanna as they passed through.
The vast great meeting chamber of the Aga Khan stood nearly empty. A semicircle of chairs stood in the center, all but one the chairs were occupied by mature warriors in their finest gilded armor. Aylanna recognized Jha'hamatla and next to him, Kah'matlah head of House Broken Spear. She counted quickly, ten chairs and one larger one obviously reserved for the Aga Khan that stood empty. A few servants hurried to and fro, a small group of guards and warriors stood to one side. Her eyes searched every face but Jhardron was nowhere to be seen. Jhu'kresh pushed her to stand in a corner and moved to whisper rapidly with one of the watching warriors.
