Chapter six- The God of the Dark Mountain
Far away from the mountain where Jaylin began her journey crouched another mountain. It stood out from the plains before it and the mountain range behind it. It filled the surrounding lands with its evil.
It was more of a foothill, but no less threatening for its diminished size. Its very existence was so menacing that the farmers and townspeople who lived near it called it the Dark Mountain, and from the way they shuddered and crossed themselves as they said its name, you would think it was the pit of Hades itself.
Its black rock had been quarried and shaped until it was a fortress with black iron gates. Everyday through those gates soldiers went out, and prisoners went in. The poor souls were collected, harvested more like, from the surrounding lands. Once they went in, they never came out again. No one knew what the lord of the mountain did with them. Did he keep them as slaves? or maybe worse things...
The latest batch of thirty ragged souls was being dragged, chains clanking, through the gates during the gloomy dusk hour. Except for the noises of shuffling feet, whimpers of pain, and the soft crying of frightened children, the small group was completely silent as they gazed with hopeless dread at the looming mountain above them.
They were led through a maze of torchlit hallways, never pausing for a moment. They were taken past messhalls and barracks, armories and prison cells. Some of them could muster the strength of will to look about them at the fortress around which so much fear swirled. The rest gazed at their treading feet in unseeing despair, hopeless and lethargic.
They were taken at last to a doorway at the end of a long corridor and herded through it. Inside was a large room. Once every captive had been forced into the room, the door slammed shut and they heard the sound of a bolt sliding home.
For a good half hour, they were left alone. A few muttered to each other, wondering where they were, why they had been taken, what would happen to them now. Some paced the walls in stalwart determination, trying to devise a plan of escape. Some collapsed on the floor and wept. Some gathered their strength to comfort those who had no strength left. All were filled with unshakable dread.
The doors opened. Every voice was silent and every eye was turned in fearful anticipation to see if death had come upon them yet.
In through the doors strode a formation of ten soldiers, led by a tall man dressed in black and with skin to match. A long, pink scar cut across his face, disfiguring his lips. His eyes surveyed the huddled prisoners coldly, then he wordlessly gestured to his men. They marched in among the crowd, each seizing one by the arm. With a short knife, the soldier made a small cut inside each prisoner's elbow. Once that was done, they moved on to another person. Once the procedure was over, the soldiers assembled behind the scarred man, and he led them out again.
Once in the corridor outside, Maurus, the scarred, dark-skinned man, turned and locked the door behind him.
Another man was waiting for him. He was dressed much more richly than Maurus, and had a golden chain around his neck, from which hung a huge onyx stone. Maurus bowed and said, "The captives have been prepared, my lord, the great Rama."
Rama, as was his most common name, gazed coldly upon his First Slave and smiled. "You have done well, favored one. They are strong?
"Most of them are very young, magnificent deity" answered the scarred man, "They have much life in them yet."
"Very good." Rama's eyes glinted, and he spread his arms. The ten soldiers backed against the walls in fear. Maurus cringed, but did not move.
With a silent blast of air, Rama's body vaporized into a cloud of black mist. It pulsed and swirled steadily. Maurus's eyes filled with fear as he beheld it. The soldiers cried in dismay.
The cloud which was Rama glided to the door to the chamber where the prisoners were kept and disappeared through it.
At first there was no sound. Then a few wary and terrified shouts of men, women, and children could be heard. In a few moments those had escalated to intense, horrified, desperate screams of pain.
The soldiers listened and kept their terror to themselves. It was enough for them that they were not on the other side of that door.
Maurus smiled.
One by one, the screams stopped; the last sounded as if it belonged to a young woman, but it was difficult to tell. Eventually, though, there was a deadly calm as the voice ended in a choked gurgle.
The door banged open, the lock shattering into a hundred pieces. Rama stood in the doorway, breathing hard, his eyes gleamed with satisfaction. The soldiers did not dare to look at him, but couldn't help looking into the room behind him. It was completely empty.
There was nothing left.
With a sigh, Rama strode past them down the torch-lit corridor, licking blood from his fingers smugly. Maurus followed him.
"Oh, my magnificent lord, who must and shall rule all, I beg to deliver a message."
"What is it?" Rama asked lazily as he finally cleaned his fingers of blood.
"We have had news, Your Glory, from the mountain in the north."
"Which mountain?" Rama snapped. He did not like to be pressed with business so soon after feeding, "What mountain is worthy of your god's notice?"
"It's the girl, great deity. She has left the mountain."
At this Rama stopped in his tracks. Slowly, threateningly, he turned his head to glare at his First Slave.
"What did you say?"
Maurus gulped. Rama was not known for his mercy upon the bearers of bad news. Maurus's predecessor had met his end for such a reason not two years ago. But Maurus had survived two years as First Slave for a reason. He was proficient in the art of flattery.
"Rama, most powerful of gods, the only god, the lord of darkness, death, and taker of life, the girl has left the mountain. I have no doubt that, should you choose, you shall now crush her and take her life for your own. For Rama is the greatest of all and most worthy of worship."
Rama was pleased with his slave's obeisances and resumed walking. "So," he said contemplatively, "Elora is leaving her little sanctuary. Interesting, after only ten years. I expected more patience from her. But you are correct, Favored One. I shall enjoy taking the years away from her, one by one." Suddenly his eyes sparked. "FInd her!" he spat, "Send out the pack. Find her, and bring her to me. Do not fail, Maurus. Your life is of no consequence to my peace of mind."
Maurus bowed, gave a few sharp orders to the soldiers who followed him, bowed again, and rushed down the corridor with the soldiers, leaving Rama alone in the torchlit passage.
Rama smiled in anticipation. "Elora," he murmured and licked his lips, "I shall savor your life, my darling."
