Sacrifice - Chapter One

A/N: So. New thing. Current title is Sacrifice, though that could change. I'm a little iffy about it, and I'm a little iffy with places in this chapter. So, crit and comments are welcome! And I love reviews~ And yeah, here you go. Enjoy.

~Scarli. <3

Chapter 1

Everything had been cast into darkness, thanks to the blindfold covering his eyes. He couldn’t see, could only hear, and hear he did. There was a large crowd gathered outside the temple. He knew they were still inside it, could tell because the air was cool compared to the iron-grip the guards had on his upper arms. It was embarrassing enough, being dressed in nearly see-through white cloth accented with gold jewellery; rings, necklaces, piercings. He had a dozen piercings in his ears and nose. There were a thousand tiny gold beads threaded into his waist-length, dark purple-black hair. Tai knew because he’d seen the slave girls threading them into the dark strands while he was sitting in front of the polished silver mirror. The crowd was loud, yelling and shouting, begging for this or that. He couldn’t understand most of it, mostly because it wasn’t in his language, the rest of the time, it was because they were shouting over each other and cutting each other off. Tai wasn’t sure; it was just loud.

The guard on his left shifted, his armour clanging and the chainmail clinking as he moved. The other one hadn’t moved, not once in the last hour or so they’d been standing there for. He wasn’t sure, though, not with his eyes covered. For all he knew, they’d been there ten minutes and not an hour. Tai exhaled carefully and inhaled just as carefully. He knew why he was there, why he was dressed in white and gold. They were going to sacrifice him. The High Priestess had warned him when he’d offered his life to her and set his path in the service of the gods. She’d told him he might be called on as a sacrifice, considering he was a virgin, but he’d thought he could slip by and escape that fate. It seemed the gods had other plans, and so there he was, blindfolded and waiting on the High Priestess to call for the sacrifice.

He was nervous, and rightly so. His death awaited him, just beyond the temple’s doors, and his guards seemed to know his state of mind. Tai wanted to run, to escape his fate, but it seemed there would be no way out. He was stuck there, waiting to die. Tai really didn’t want to die, but the priestess hadn’t given him any other options. It was this or something far worse. She hadn’t said what, exactly, but he could guess. The last girl the High Priestess had thought was a virgin had been lying. She’d been sent away and not seen again for a very long time. Tai didn’t know what the High Priestess had said about the girl; it hadn’t been in his language, but he remembered seeing her later on. She hadn’t looked very good.

Tai was startled when someone grabbed his arse and squeezed, but didn’t dare speak. The guard on his left muttered a snide-sounding comment in that other language and the other guard laughed heartily. He really wished someone would talk to him, speak in a language he could understand. The High Priestess had taught him the holy words, but she hadn’t taught him Verlisi, the most common tongue in the city outside the temple. Tai spoke three languages; the holy words, his own tongue and the trade slaver’s language. He’d learned that when his father—a man he barely remembered—used to trade with them when he was a child. There wasn’t much he remembered about his childhood; it was vague and blurred at best, and just darkness and screaming, and blood at worst. Tai didn’t want to think too hard on that; he knew he’d lost his parents that night, so many years ago, but the High Priestess had saved him, in a way. He sighed, shifting his stance slightly and wasn’t surprised when the hand groped him this time.

“That is enough!” a feminine voice snapped sharply in Verlisi, startling the pair of guards into letting go. Tai didn’t know what she’d said, but he knew her voice. “Get him ready, and for the sake of the god’s, straighten out that robe!” Tai raised his head at the sound of her heeled feet coming towards him and his guards. Her fingertips brushed his face and he knew it was her, the High Priestess. The guards tugged on his robe, straightening it out as she touched him. “Taika, are you well?”

He lowered his head slightly, leaning his cheek into her hand. “I am,” he whispered, keeping his voice down and speaking his native tongue. The High Priestess chuckled, which made Tai frown behind his blindfold. “Must my eyes be covered for this, Mother?”

The High Priestess sighed, patting his cheek before her hand withdrew. “It is tradition,” she said in his language, sliding her hands down his neck and over his chest until she reached his waist. “I wish it were not so, but it must be done. I’d rather none of the boys or girls I send to the gods see how they will leave our realm. It’s not the prettiest way.” He exhaled carefully. Tai understood that, somewhat. He wouldn’t want to see how his life would end, either. She said something in Verlisi, then, and the guards began protesting. Tai understood very little of what she said—if any at all—and stood there, worried and waiting. And then she spoke to him again, in a language he understood as she wrapped what felt like a heavy gold belt around his waist. “Come, Taika. We shall begin.”

After a sharp command to the guards, he heard her turn and walk away. It was several seconds before the guards moved forwards, jerking him with them. Tai didn’t protest, he didn’t struggle. It was no use anyway. She had guards, on the temple payroll, stationed everywhere. He’d seen them every day for his entire life within the temple walls and doubted he’d ever forget that fact. As it was, his death was slowly creeping closer. He could almost hear the drums that the god of death was said to play when someone was close to death or about to die. And Tai was very much about to die.

There was a distinct difference between inside the temple and outside it; the cool air gave way to warmth and then unbearable heat. Tai was sure his robe would really be see-through by the time they made it to the altar set on the raised dais that served as the temple’s front portico and terrace. It was so hot; he could feel the sweat already pouring off him and soaking his robe. He hated the feel of sweat-soaked cloth against bare skin, and he was truly naked beneath his sacrificial robes. Tai dreaded what the crowd gathered to see his death what see through the soaked cloth. Probably everything, he reasoned. It didn’t seem to bother him as much as it normally did. He was still uncomfortable so exposed in public, but this was a little bearable; he was technically still clothed.

“Here is the sacrifice!” That was Mother, the High Priestess, calling out to the crowd in Verlisi. Tai couldn’t understand the words, but judging by how the crowd’s cries increasing in volume, enough so that it was a roar in his ears, he figured she’d announced that he would be the next sacrifice. Tai lowered his head, having raised it slightly when they’d left he cool temple for the hot temple courtyard. “Let us send the virgin to his death!” The crowd’s roar grew even louder, and Tai winced. Over the roaring crowd, he could hear the High Priestess moving about the altar as the guards brought him closer, could hear her murmuring in the holy words and heard when she brought the athane—a black-handled, silver-bladed knife that the High Priestess kept by the altar inside the temple—down on the, from the sound of it, chicken on the altar. He could just imagine the red staining the altar now with the body of the chicken on one side and the chicken’s head on the other. He’d never seen it done; she’d forbidden him from watching any sacrifices, lest he was traumatised by what he saw. “Taika, step forward, please.”

He felt that guard release his arms and hesitated. What could happen if he stepped forward now? Would she take that athane and use it on him? He’d seen her do that to one of the guards she’d caught with one of her temple maidens. Tai knew she hadn’t seen him then, hidden as he’d been behind the statue behind the altar in the main hall and deep in shadow. His Mother, as he’d come to call him, had scared him then. The High Priestess had driven the blade into the guard’s chest and cut out his heart, showing it to the terrified man in the moments before he died. There had been blood everywhere, the dark redness of it staining the front of her silver-hemmed white robes. It had also been splattered across her face, too. And her expression afterwards, that had given him nightmares for months afterwards. He’d only been at the temple for a year when he saw that, but it hadn’t made him want to leave. Nothing had ever made him want to leave the temple. He had seen far worse when his father dealt with the slavers.

“Taika, I am waiting.”

“I apologise,” he said, moving towards her voice. He felt her take his hands, which he hadn’t realised he’d been holding out towards her, tied together with a length of red thread as they were; he’d watched the girl’s do that, too, before he’d been blindfolded. “I was lost in thought.”

She guided him to a stop before what he assumed was the altar and touched his hair, tugging the bead he hadn’t noticed slipping down back into place. “It is alright, Taika,” she crooned to him and pressed her lips to his forehead, above the blindfold. “All of them were nervous before the fall.”

Tai stiffened slightly as she shifted her hands, brushing them down over his shoulders and chest, and then lower. “I am not nervous, Mother,” he said in his native tongue, the one he was most fluent in. He heard her sigh. “I just do not like being blind to my surroundings—or being grouped by the men who are supposed to protect me.”

“Taika,” she said and seemed to smother a light chuckle. Tai tried not to notice it. “I am truly sorry for that. They do not know when to touch and when not to.” He felt a hand on his face again and knew it was her, his mother; the High Priestess. Tai kept his silence, waiting. “Come,” she murmured lowly after a moment, leading him forwards again. He felt her take his hands and place them on the altar, felt the cooling warmth on his skin and between his fingers. Tai was disgusted by that, knew it was blood from the chicken, but he kept his face passive. No need to let the crowd know he was disgusted by what his mother had done. “Now, Tai, be a good boy and stand still.”

“Yes, mother,” he breathed out, trying not to let the smell of fresh blood get to him. He knew that was what she’d put his hands into, knew that it was the blood and he didn’t like it. No wonder she had the others blindfolded. She didn’t need to know how squeamish he was about blood. The image of the High Priestess, face scattered with blood and gown soaked red drifted through his head and Tai nearly cringed. No, he didn’t need to let her know he’d seen her back then, didn’t need any more nightmare material.

The robe her wore, nearly transparent as it was, was suddenly loose at the shoulders, where the gold pins holding it together should have been. Too late, Tai realised she’d removed them and was now pushing the sweat-soaked material off his shoulders, bearing his upper torso to the world—and the scar shaped like the royal family’s insignia etched into his skin, over his heart. He went very still, wary of what she was going to do now and only vaguely aware that the crowd had fallen silent.

“Do not worry, Taika,” the High Priestess breathed into his ear. “I promise it will be quick.”

That was not reassuring, not at all. He’d seen her definition of ‘quick’, and he dreaded to think what that might mean when pertaining to him. Tai stood still, head lowered only slightly and tried very hard not to bite his lip at the tension her could now feel in the air, the anticipation. Why were they so curious about watching someone die? He knew what it was like, had seen it before. It hadn’t been pretty. In fact, it had been pretty damned messy, if you asked Tai. And the High Priestess, the woman he called ‘mother’, had seemed to like it.

When cool metal touched his neck, Tai went very still as his instincts seemed to take over. Thank the gods that he had enough presence of mind not to move as the metal, not cutting into his skin, was move down over his chest. He could hear his own blood rushing in his ears, drowning out whatever his mother, the High Priestess, was saying—and it wasn’t in his language, either. It was in Verlisi, the common tongue for the kingdom they were in. It was times like this that Tai hated not having been able to learn it when he could. He supposed he had that incident with his mother and the guard to thank for that, if he thought about it. That had been right before he’d been set to start learning it, and he had avoided her for months afterward. She never spoke a word about it, though, never even mentioned that she might have known he was there. It was like she just went on about her daily business. Then again, what went on in the Temple, stayed in the Temple—and the High Priestess preferred it that way.

“Lift your hands,” whispered his mother, right by his ear again. Tai very nearly flinched but did as he was bid. He hadn’t been expecting that, not at all. But he didn’t protest as she took his by the wrists and turned him towards her, leading him—Tai assumed—around the altar to the crowd’s side of it, and to the pit set just before the altar. He knew it was usually covered by a large circle chunk of stone, but for this, for a sacrifice, it would have been removed. Tai wanted to run now, but he couldn’t, not when his hands had been soaked in the chicken’s blood, making him as the next sacrifice. “Come, Taika. Trust me. I would not hurt you unnecessarily, would I?”

Tai didn’t answer, concentrating on where he put his feet next. It seemed she hadn’t been expecting an answer, either. That didn’t bother him as much as it should have. Did she put something in his food or drink before blindfolding him and settling him in that hallway with the guards? Had she prepared him for sacrifice in a most immoral way? Tai wasn’t sure. He felt fine, but now that he thought about it, his head did feel a tiny bit fuzzy. Maybe she only gave him a small dose? A very small dose, just enough to make him comfortable, but not enough to make it hard for him to move. It was enough, though, and that concerned him. Had she been worried that he might run? Why would he run? Tai felt weird now, felt the fuzziness creepy over him more, making him blur out something in a very small voice; “Mother, I feel strange...”

“You are fine, Taika,” was her response, almost immediate. He felt the angle she held his hands at move and assumed she was gently turning him around. Tai inched a foot back slightly, only a feel inches, and felt the stone give way to air before slipping his foot forwards again. He really did not like being so blind to his surroundings. The blindfold, in his opinion by now, was unnecessary. He wanted to see what was about to happen to him, see the crowd’s faces as he died. See hers as she killed him. “You are doing great.”

He was beginning to doubt himself, beginning to feel fear. He didn’t like the fuzzy edge to his awareness, didn’t like the fact that there was a very deep hole in the ground directly behind him, and the fact that he was very likely to end up at the bottom of it very, very soon. And yet, there they were, her hands, still holding his wrists, still there for him, even at the moment of his death. The athane had been removed; he barely noticed, just waited as his mother released his wrist, gently, of course, and tugged the robe down lower. Then he felt the slightly warmer metal come back, knew it was the athane the High Priestess wielded and whimpered, like a kicked puppy. “Mother,” he whispered. “I’m scared.”

“There is no reason to be, darling son,” she whispered back. “I am sending you to join the gods.” The blade was drawn back, and then it was there, buried to the hilt in his chest. It hadn’t hit his heart, not directly, but it had caught the edge. He knew he was dead if it was removed, but it stayed right where it was as his mother spoke in Verlisi to the people. Tai was there, balanced between life and death, standing at the rim of a deep pit. He’d never felt more scared in his life, not even when he’d watch the High Priestess cut out a man’s heart for daring to love one of her temple maidens. “There, there, dear Taika. That was not so bad, was it?”

Tai held still, barely breathing. He could literally feel the blade in his left lung. It made it hard to breathe properly, but it didn’t seem to bother his mother. The High Priestess seemed calm, but he couldn’t see her face and so he could not tell. She held him like that, one hand on his waist, holding him still, while the other was, he assumed, on the hilt of the athane. When had she put that hand on his waist? Tai didn’t know. He was about to answer when someone in the crowd cried out, a frightened, wondering sound and, at the same time, there was a loud crack, like someone had jumped from very high up and landed heavily—or like when one of the temple maidens had dropped a large bowl, shattering it into a thousand pieces.

“This is not what the gods will,” someone called, and Tai felt the entire crowd tense. It was so obvious, so unmistakable, that he could have cut it with the athane’s blade, currently buried in his chest. There was the sound of a thousand indrawn breaths, a whimper and then another—which may or may not have been him. “I claim his life in my name. Release him.”

Tai felt wind brush past him, felt his mother release him, only for him to begin falling backwards. He was caught swiftly by strong arms and held against a solid chest--a man, then. A very strong, very powerful man; he could feel the man’s reservoir of power beneath that chest, pressed a hand against it even as one took hold of the knife, ever so gently, and gave it a small jerk. Tai cried out, flinging his head back. That had hurt, cutting through the haze in his mind as cleanly as a blade through butter. He whimpered, dropping his head to his right, felt it settle against that solid chest and exhaled carefully.

“Who are you?” his mother demanded, tone high and irritated. The man holding him snorted; Tai felt the air on his forehead, felt it through the man’s chest—and he heard it, too. It sounded equal parts annoyed and amused, and a larger part angry. “Answer me!”

“I have many names,” the mysterious man said, the words rumbling in his chest. Tai shifted his hand slightly, startled to feel smother, warm skin beneath his fingers. He very nearly jerked his hand away but stopped himself from doing so at the last moment. “You may call me Baal.”

There was a brief moment of silence before he heard her swift, indrawn breath. “A god,” she whispered. “You are a god.”

“Indeed.”

Tai went still when he felt her gaze on him. He didn’t like it; it was sharper, far more cutting than it had ever been. The god’s hold on him tightened, but he didn’t try to move the athane again. Tai was thankful for that; it had hurt, and hurt a lot. The blade was lodged just at the edge of his heart and in his lung. He knew it would be fatal, if the athane were to be pulled out of his chest. Tai didn’t want that to happen, didn’t want to die--never had, really. He wanted to live. He wanted to explore, he wanted to do a hundred million things before he got too old to do them, and yet he had been stuck there, in the temple.

“You should not be here.” That was her again—his mother, the High Priestess. Tai tried not to listen, but it was hard. He tried to focus on the god while she spoke, but he still heard the words, spoken in a language he could understand, spoken in the holy words. Tai loved the language, but what his mother said now... It scared him. “He should be dead! And you! You should not be interfering! Not like this. The gods who demand my sacrifices are not likely to forgive easily. You have angered them!”

Baal laughed. He outright laughed at the woman. Tai could hear and feel that laughter through his chest. “Me? Anger the other gods?” the man asked, and Tai could tell he’d silenced the High Priestess with them. “You are not serious, are you? When am I not ‘angering’ other gods? I am always angering them, and your gods are not what—or who—you think they are, mortal woman.” Tai heard his mother hiss out a low string of something. Cursing, was she cursing? “Trust my words, Talutah. I am incapable of lying, you know this.”

“Damn you to the seven hells and back!” she hissed, her tone sounded vindictive to Tai’s ears. This was his mother, the woman who was so loving and caring all his life? Had it been a lie, all this time? Tai didn’t want to believe it, didn’t want to know that all his illusions about his life were being shattering, right now, as they were speaking, god to mortal woman. Tai shuddered in the god’s hold, felt lips in his hair and sighed dreamily. He closed his eyes, blocking out the feeling of blindness and the awful sensation of cloth-on-eyelashes. He’d always hated to feel deprived of any kind of sensation, and he had no idea why. She was cursing again, in a low and angry voice. Tai feared for his life, but refused to move. The god was warm and comfortable; nothing would have made him move right now. Nothing. “Give me the boy, and I will not call upon my gods.”

Someone snorted, and Tai realised it had been him. A moment later, Baal snickered out a small laugh. “Your gods can do nothing,” he said, and Tai heard the smirk in his voice. “Not against me, Talutah.” Here, Baal seemed to pause and gather his thoughts. Was that a gaze resting on the top of his head? Tai wished he knew, wished that the blindfold was off—but he didn’t want to see, didn’t want to know what could be seen, not just yet. “I am taking the boy with me, mortal. You will do nothing to stop me, least you want my followers to call for your blood. And trust me when I say they will.”

Tai felt movement and was startled when an arm was swept up under his legs. He’d been picked up, he realised. By a god known as Baal. He was shocked. Did gods normally pick up mortals like that and carry them about? Tai didn’t know. He came to realise that he didn’t know a lot of things, and somehow he knew that a fair few of those things were things he should have known, long before he did now. If only he knew what they were, if only he could learn. If only he wasn’t going to die!

“You had best tell your guards to stand down, Priestess, or I will make them do so.”

Tai tensed up, digging his fingers into the god’s flesh. Was his mother trying to stop Baal from taking him? Was she crazy? One never, ever stopped a god—or rather, tried to stop one—from doing anything. The gods had free reign in the mortal realm. No one dared oppose them. It hurt now, the blade in his chest, and it hurt more when the god touched it, ever so gently.

“You will get this back when I am done with his healing, and not a moment before.” The god’s voice sounded dark and ominous, threatening in a way Tai had never heard before—not the god’s voice, but in any voice. “If he dies, it will be on your head, Priestess.” Tai felt the god move, figured he was shifting away from the altar, just as a wave of dizziness washed over him. He reached up to touch the place where the blade entered his chest and froze when he felt the slickness there. He was bleeding, and bleeding badly. The blade was keeping him alive so far, but he was losing far too much blood. He knew that was, had heard the guards in their infirmary a few times. He just didn’t know how bad it was. “Don’t touch,” Baal said and Tai moved his head, tilting his face up towards the voice. “It’s painful. I would know; many have tried this trick and it has never worked. Still hurts, though.”

“I feel strange,” Tai repeated, feeling faint and sounding it, too. Baal went still; Tai could feel the tension in the man’s arms. “Dizzy,” Tai added, his voice dropping to a whisper, barely-there and filled with a strange wonder. “That’s...that’s bad, right?”

“Perhaps,” Baal replied, sounding strained. “But I think I can help.”

“Alright,” he said in a somewhere dreamy voice. Tai felt lost, lost to a sea of darkness and silence. He realised that his hearing was fading, that the sounds he heard seemed to be drifting away, as if on the river’s swift tides. Tai flexed the fingers of his left hand, dropping it to his robe and clutching the fabric tightly. “I feel...faint, cold... Tired, that’s it.” He abruptly stopped talking, head lolling on the guard’s shoulder. He thought he heard Baal reply, but by then there was nothing but a fading rush of sound and the crushing black nothingness as it rolled over him. That was the last thing he remembered before all sensation was completely gone.