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Chapter 1 - Sam'al
In a wicked age, a decadent and wealthy empire has overextended itself. City states that have sworn fealty to the Emperor in the past are now being corrupted by foreign cult influence, an ambitious local aristocracy, and general unlawfulness. The trade city of Sam'al, at the extreme east of the Empire, is an exemplar of this condition.
The Emperor hopes that the arranged marriage of his only daughter, Lillian, to the son of the ruling family of Sam'al, shall keep this vital trade city and its considerable military might, squarely within the grip of the Empire. However, many forces are contriving to put a stop to this. There is a feeling of unrest in the city, especially amongst the growing number of poor labourers and the dispossessed. They turn to criminals and cultists for protection, as the local aristocracy seems content to let them starve and die of disease in the outer slums.
Some believe it is time for an uprising - and one such person is the leader of a powerful gang known locally as the Hounds. They are not well-intentioned idealists. They are thugs, cutthroats, and alley-thieves, united by the desire for a better life for themselves. Their leader recognizes that many are willing to follow him, in the blind hope that doing so will raise them out of despair.
Others who do not cling to the protection of criminals instead flock to the words of a prophet of death. Long has the cult of nameless death had roots in Sam'al - a city that rests above an ancient subterranean labyrinth full of ghoulish horrors. The cult styles itself as the keepers of the dead, the servants of a wrathful, unfeeling god that must be sated annually with the death of a beautiful life in full bloom - usually a virgin maiden of beauty or a strong, youthful man full of promise. It is believed that the cult, with the favor of its god, could command the ghouls to attack the unbelievers or enemies of the cult. There is little doubt that the fanatical cultists, who have many followers, both secret and public, desire to remain a central power in the city. Their influence is felt in every part of life, from the lowliest beggar to the halls of the affluent and rich.
Into this nest of vipers stride three heroines - the Emperor's daughter, Lillian, with her own ideas of how to bring order to this city, Lenka, a promising rogue and member of the dreaded Hounds, and Dalian, a fair maiden selected by her cult as the chosen sacrifice to her nameless god, yet perhaps she has a chance to save herself and still appease her god? What does this wicked age hold in store for these three, and who if any of them shall achieve what they desire?
******
Lillian
The imperial princess peered out through the curtains of her elevated palanquin, borne on the shoulders of four powerful Norsers - the elite and deadly soldiers of the Emperor. Beside them on either side were two long columns of two dozen valkyries, the winged-helmet female soldiers which served as bodyguards for all ladies of the royal bloodline. Simta, the valkyrie victora - champion of the elite spear wielding, women, strode beside the princess' litter, her golden helm and breastplate gleaming in the desert sun.
"The governor's palace is close, your highness," Simta announced, professionally. "I see the Governor and your groom to be. His Imperial Majesty wishes you to be kind to your future consort and father-in-law. This marriage is crucial to the future of the empire."
Lillian could hear the concern in Simta's voice. No one, not even her father, had ever been able to truly order around the princess to full success. She was willful, and though the Emperor had arranged and ordered this marriage, there was every chance that Lillian might ruin it. Simta, being a strong woman who did not have fear of speaking honestly to royalty, was as much a caretaker as she was a bodyguard. Her loyalty lay with Lillian only so far as it fit the Emperor's plan.
******
Lenka
The orma den smelled of flavored smoke, and tasted of sweat and drinks both bitter and sweet. Men and women of ill-repute sat together in clumps, some drinking, some fondling one another, and others gambling in games of throwing sticks, or mandala stones. Lenka's eyes roamed between her own drink and the largest circle of late afternoon conspirators, which included Hidar Eil, a man of equal parts vision, cunning, and brutality. The men with him were grain farmers and river fishermen and porters. Lay workers who represented their colleagues and individual communities. She could see the way Hidar's intense eyes and animated expressions were affecting his listeners. They were nodding. Some of them clenched their fists. Violence was being burned into their hearts. Some wealthy merchants were going to find trouble when next they went to bargain with these men. Shipments would be set aside for the people, and kept from the rich. Investigations would be set in motion by the city guard - violent skirmishes would occur, ambushes would be set. Survivors would be intimidated, their families threatened. Slowly, brick by brick, Hidar was setting up a culture of fear, chaos, and anarchy.
Zain took a seat next to Lenka. The girl had noticed his presence only a split second before he took a seat next to her, and she counted herself a very perceptive person. It spoke volumes about the creature who now shared the smoking pipe placed in front of her.
"We have new assignments from Hidar. I think you will enjoy this new one, Lenka. It seems our leader has faith in your ability to kill the prophet of the death cult. He said he wanted it nice and messy - I could only recommend your talents." The killer smiled an icy, unfeeling smile - the sort Lenka imagined he gave to his victims before he twisted his knife into their hearts...
*****
Dalian
Fine black silks had been prepared for her, and her nubile body had been dressed by three female attendants. Perfumed oils were rubbed into her skin, and semi-permanent henna tattoos were painted in beautiful patterns along her forearms and ankles. Bowls of plump dates and juicy round grapes were placed before her, food that she had rarely been allowed throughout her life was now set in front of her in abundance. Dalian knew that she appeared now as an exotic beauty, an exemplar of a Sam'alian maiden, a perfect concubine for nameless death in the eternal hereafter. Rich, steaming coffee, flavored with sweet tal root extract was served to her in fine cups of expertly worked glass - provided through the generosity of wealthy cult followers amongst the noble and priest castes. Only the best was placed before their most adored sacrifice.
A clap of hands from the two large guards with falchions at their hips announced that the female attendants should leave at once. The women did so without a word, leaving the scantily silken clad virgin to lie alone on the cushioned divan and await her visitor. The beads hanging in the arched entryway parted, revealing no less than Nidintu-Bel, prophet of the nameless god, into the chamber. Instinct told her to rise and lower her gaze in front of this powerful man, but he held his hand up to stop her movement.
"No, my dear girl, it is I who bow before you," the prophet said in a melodious, fatherly voice that Dalian could not help but be charmed by. The powerful priest, capable of ordering death at a whim, bowed low to her, casting his eyes to his feet in a display of humility and deference that shocked her. She had been unprepared for kindness. This was the man who said she must be fed to eaters of flesh in darkness - yet why did she not fear or hate him?
"My dear Dalian, it has been my great burden and holiest honor to speak and hold confidence with every chosen one, each year, and explain how important and noble a thing it is that they and now you, shall do." The priest smiled benevolently at her, and extended a hand to brush back the girl's hair, as a parent or lover might do. "I wish you to know that you do more for your people with this great act than I could ever do with all my years of experience and oratory skills, and I assure you that you shall not be without reward in the hereafter. There is a place of honor set aside for you in the grey realms to which we all are consigned to go. When you and I meet on the other side of the great veil, it shall be I who will wash your feet. The act of death shall be a series of moments, and it will not be your end, but your true beginning."
In a wicked age, a decadent and wealthy empire has overextended itself. City states that have sworn fealty to the Emperor in the past are now being corrupted by foreign cult influence, an ambitious local aristocracy, and general unlawfulness. The trade city of Sam'al, at the extreme east of the Empire, is an exemplar of this condition.
The Emperor hopes that the arranged marriage of his only daughter, Lillian, to the son of the ruling family of Sam'al, shall keep this vital trade city and its considerable military might, squarely within the grip of the Empire. However, many forces are contriving to put a stop to this. There is a feeling of unrest in the city, especially amongst the growing number of poor labourers and the dispossessed. They turn to criminals and cultists for protection, as the local aristocracy seems content to let them starve and die of disease in the outer slums.
Some believe it is time for an uprising - and one such person is the leader of a powerful gang known locally as the Hounds. They are not well-intentioned idealists. They are thugs, cutthroats, and alley-thieves, united by the desire for a better life for themselves. Their leader recognizes that many are willing to follow him, in the blind hope that doing so will raise them out of despair.
Others who do not cling to the protection of criminals instead flock to the words of a prophet of death. Long has the cult of nameless death had roots in Sam'al - a city that rests above an ancient subterranean labyrinth full of ghoulish horrors. The cult styles itself as the keepers of the dead, the servants of a wrathful, unfeeling god that must be sated annually with the death of a beautiful life in full bloom - usually a virgin maiden of beauty or a strong, youthful man full of promise. It is believed that the cult, with the favor of its god, could command the ghouls to attack the unbelievers or enemies of the cult. There is little doubt that the fanatical cultists, who have many followers, both secret and public, desire to remain a central power in the city. Their influence is felt in every part of life, from the lowliest beggar to the halls of the affluent and rich.
Into this nest of vipers stride three heroines - the Emperor's daughter, Lillian, with her own ideas of how to bring order to this city, Lenka, a promising rogue and member of the dreaded Hounds, and Dalian, a fair maiden selected by her cult as the chosen sacrifice to her nameless god, yet perhaps she has a chance to save herself and still appease her god? What does this wicked age hold in store for these three, and who if any of them shall achieve what they desire?
******
Lillian
The imperial princess peered out through the curtains of her elevated palanquin, borne on the shoulders of four powerful Norsers - the elite and deadly soldiers of the Emperor. Beside them on either side were two long columns of two dozen valkyries, the winged-helmet female soldiers which served as bodyguards for all ladies of the royal bloodline. Simta, the valkyrie victora - champion of the elite spear wielding, women, strode beside the princess' litter, her golden helm and breastplate gleaming in the desert sun.
"The governor's palace is close, your highness," Simta announced, professionally. "I see the Governor and your groom to be. His Imperial Majesty wishes you to be kind to your future consort and father-in-law. This marriage is crucial to the future of the empire."
Lillian could hear the concern in Simta's voice. No one, not even her father, had ever been able to truly order around the princess to full success. She was willful, and though the Emperor had arranged and ordered this marriage, there was every chance that Lillian might ruin it. Simta, being a strong woman who did not have fear of speaking honestly to royalty, was as much a caretaker as she was a bodyguard. Her loyalty lay with Lillian only so far as it fit the Emperor's plan.
******
Lenka
The orma den smelled of flavored smoke, and tasted of sweat and drinks both bitter and sweet. Men and women of ill-repute sat together in clumps, some drinking, some fondling one another, and others gambling in games of throwing sticks, or mandala stones. Lenka's eyes roamed between her own drink and the largest circle of late afternoon conspirators, which included Hidar Eil, a man of equal parts vision, cunning, and brutality. The men with him were grain farmers and river fishermen and porters. Lay workers who represented their colleagues and individual communities. She could see the way Hidar's intense eyes and animated expressions were affecting his listeners. They were nodding. Some of them clenched their fists. Violence was being burned into their hearts. Some wealthy merchants were going to find trouble when next they went to bargain with these men. Shipments would be set aside for the people, and kept from the rich. Investigations would be set in motion by the city guard - violent skirmishes would occur, ambushes would be set. Survivors would be intimidated, their families threatened. Slowly, brick by brick, Hidar was setting up a culture of fear, chaos, and anarchy.
Zain took a seat next to Lenka. The girl had noticed his presence only a split second before he took a seat next to her, and she counted herself a very perceptive person. It spoke volumes about the creature who now shared the smoking pipe placed in front of her.
"We have new assignments from Hidar. I think you will enjoy this new one, Lenka. It seems our leader has faith in your ability to kill the prophet of the death cult. He said he wanted it nice and messy - I could only recommend your talents." The killer smiled an icy, unfeeling smile - the sort Lenka imagined he gave to his victims before he twisted his knife into their hearts...
*****
Dalian
Fine black silks had been prepared for her, and her nubile body had been dressed by three female attendants. Perfumed oils were rubbed into her skin, and semi-permanent henna tattoos were painted in beautiful patterns along her forearms and ankles. Bowls of plump dates and juicy round grapes were placed before her, food that she had rarely been allowed throughout her life was now set in front of her in abundance. Dalian knew that she appeared now as an exotic beauty, an exemplar of a Sam'alian maiden, a perfect concubine for nameless death in the eternal hereafter. Rich, steaming coffee, flavored with sweet tal root extract was served to her in fine cups of expertly worked glass - provided through the generosity of wealthy cult followers amongst the noble and priest castes. Only the best was placed before their most adored sacrifice.
A clap of hands from the two large guards with falchions at their hips announced that the female attendants should leave at once. The women did so without a word, leaving the scantily silken clad virgin to lie alone on the cushioned divan and await her visitor. The beads hanging in the arched entryway parted, revealing no less than Nidintu-Bel, prophet of the nameless god, into the chamber. Instinct told her to rise and lower her gaze in front of this powerful man, but he held his hand up to stop her movement.
"No, my dear girl, it is I who bow before you," the prophet said in a melodious, fatherly voice that Dalian could not help but be charmed by. The powerful priest, capable of ordering death at a whim, bowed low to her, casting his eyes to his feet in a display of humility and deference that shocked her. She had been unprepared for kindness. This was the man who said she must be fed to eaters of flesh in darkness - yet why did she not fear or hate him?
"My dear Dalian, it has been my great burden and holiest honor to speak and hold confidence with every chosen one, each year, and explain how important and noble a thing it is that they and now you, shall do." The priest smiled benevolently at her, and extended a hand to brush back the girl's hair, as a parent or lover might do. "I wish you to know that you do more for your people with this great act than I could ever do with all my years of experience and oratory skills, and I assure you that you shall not be without reward in the hereafter. There is a place of honor set aside for you in the grey realms to which we all are consigned to go. When you and I meet on the other side of the great veil, it shall be I who will wash your feet. The act of death shall be a series of moments, and it will not be your end, but your true beginning."