V: Bride Of The Serpent - Chapter 1
Someone...
...is trying to pull off one of my boots.
Not recalling having granted anyone such an honour, my reaction comes almost automatically - I lash out with my foot, my vinyl-booted toe coming into firm contact with something fleshy, and my leg and boot are quickly released. Reaction number two also has a near-automatic component to it - a telepathic probe, combined with a rapid-deployed psionic strike should I detect any malice within any mind I encounter...
I feel... nothing. Something is blocking my powers; something unusually strong, or exceptionally skilled. I'm powerless.
Time to evaluate my position...
My eyes sting as I force them open, and my head pounds as I lift it. Vague shapes swim and shiver across my field of vision, hovering around me in a murky, flickering darkness, flitting in and out of view like insects - I'm clearly seriously outnumbered...
I'm also next to naked. The boot someone was trying to remove is the only thing I'm still wearing.
The sense of alarm that discovery brings shocks me into fresh clarity. The shapes become bodies, faces - human-like beings of some kind, sparsely dressed in scraps of animal skin, features accentuated or obscured, sometimes both, by vividly-coloured face-paint. They're standing around a crude stone table, draped with tanned animal hide and mats of roughly-woven leaves, on which I am now lying, apparently being undressed for some purpose that currently only they know, and which they don't look like they're about to explain.
I sit up, and examine myself. My right boot is the only thing I have left, no trace of the rest of my gear in sight. My hair is loose, with brightly-coloured feathers and creepers laden with small, delicate jungle flowers woven into it, and my body has been decorated with a number of crude symbols and handprints in yellow and blue paint - colours no-one else is wearing, which may or may not be significant. For now, I don't care - I've been assaulted, stripped, and I don't like it...
I glare at my captors, and they back away a step. A murmur starts to rise from their ranks: "Kro-gor... kro-gor..." - it sounds rather ominous, and as I pull my legs and hair up closer to my body, the murmur builds in volume as more and more voices join in. Whoever these... people are, there are a lot more of them than I first imagined - the flaming torches held by several of those who're gathered around the table are but a small handful compared to the multitude that flicker throughout the deeper darkness all around me.
There is, however, a more coherent island of light, not too far away. Many of the torches are clustered around what looks like a structure, set above the crowds on an oval pedestal - and there's a somewhat familiar sparkle there; torch-light dancing on the surface of something shiny...?
That has to be something of mine - my other boot, hopefully, maybe even the rest of my equipment. Quickly, I gather up my hair, tying half of it around each wrist to keep it from trailing on the ground, then I carefully lower my booted foot to the ground, and test my footing - soft, maybe muddy, and covered with a potentially slippery layer of leaves... this is not going to be fun.
I swing my other leg over, and place my bare left foot on the earth. The ground gives a little, thick wetness squeezing up between my toes as I stand, struggling for a moment to keep my balance as the bare sole of my foot slides on damp leaves, and I try to compensate for wearing only one of my slender four-inch boot heels - there better not be any surprises between here and that... whatever it is.
My captors back off a little more, allowing me to take my first, uneven steps. I could take off my other boot, and avoid the possibility of stumbling and injuring myself by walking barefoot, but I don't want to give these feral beings any chance to steal the last of my possessions from me. They certainly seem keen to touch me, reaching out to touch my skin, or stroke my hair - some even extend hands covered in fresh, brightly-hued paint, smearing it into my hair, one slapping a perfect yellow handprint onto the top of my boot, but the protests I spit at them are lost in the growing chant...
"Kro-gor... kro-gor..."
My footing remains relatively stable; the last thing I want now is to fall, and leave myself open to being pounced upon by these primitives, and perhaps have my remaining boot yanked off - or maybe worse. I seem to be moving down a shallow slope, into a valley lined with jungle undergrowth, trees casting unnerving shadows across my path that prey on my mind, a mind already subjected to an uncomfortable throbbing, the continuation of the discomfort I felt before, which increases in intensity the closer I get to the lighted structure - could it be something to do with my inability to access my powers...?
"What, no giant ape...?", I mutter to myself, shrugging off another outstretched hand, glimpsing another shifting shadow that makes my heart shudder inside my chest. "Or is this one of those stories where some 'noble savage' swings down out of the trees to rescue the helpless damsel?"
There is, I'm glad to hear, no ear-splitting roar from a colossal primate lumbering through the darkness - and also no sign of anyone coming to sweep me away to safety. The only relief I'm afforded is that the crowds are moving back more, out of arm's reach, the closer I get to that illuminated structure. It appears to be some kind of statue - a sculpture of rather disquietening aspect...
The giant carving, twenty feet tall at least in a cross-legged sitting position, is a surprisingly finely crafted representation of a bizarre creature, a monstrous fusion of snake and human. It has no head where one would expect one, but the features and jaws of a huge and ferocious snake protrude from the centre of its chest, and in place of arms, it has the heads and bodies of two more serpents, curving out to the sides, then back inward to face each other, a head almost directly above each of its knees. One final snake takes the place of another part of its anatomy, rising from where the legs join the body...
That particular carved reptile becomes the absolute centre of my attention as I stagger across that last stretch of unstable, slippery ground, then find solid footing again as I start to ascend the steps that curve up the side of the oval pedestal, and deliver me into the looming presence of the statue. My heart is starting to race a little as I walk over to the proud, upright serpent that curves up from the statue's crotch, the head and much of the body enclosed in my stolen boot.
At first glance, my missing boot is none the worse for wear for being "worn" for a while on what passes for the statue's manhood, the empty foot dangling limply from the end of the snake's snout, the shaft emblazoned with random painted handprints and spatters, the upturned cuff filled with white flower-petals...
"Kro-gor... kro-gor..."
That chant is growing in volume, and the crowd are drawing in closer. I get the distinct feeling they have me right where they want me.
The natives are not advancing any further, as though waiting for something, and I'm grateful for the opportunity to catch my breath, and try to shake off the throbbing in my head that has grown to nearly insufferable intensity - I must be close to the centre of the disturbance that's blocking my powers. This lull in proceedings also gives me the chance to quickly survey my immediate surroundings, and look for the rest of my things, but all that I see is that the pedestal is strewn with a variety of items - clay bowls and woven baskets filled with fruit, raw meat, fresh animal skins; jars and jugs full of liquid - offerings to this serpentine idol, and the entity it is supposed to represent. The latest offering appears to be my stolen boot, and based on what I've experienced, the next is most likely to be me.
I find that one of the jugs is full of fresh water, and I overturn one of the bowls, spilling its contents all over the pedestal. Quickly, I fill the bowl with water, wash the dirt from my unbooted foot, then snatch up a bundle of coarsely-woven cloth to dry myself. Underneath that, I find a heap of shiny black fabric - the remains of my outfit, apparently cut off my body while I was unconscious - and amongst the glossy scraps I find my energy whip generator, its clasps and straps broken. My favourite non-psionic weapon might still be functional, but I dare not use it in this condition, its safety mechanism surely compromised - and that makes my position even more precarious...
Throwing down the cloth, I hurry to retrieve what little is left of my belongings, tucking the energy whip generator into the top of the boot I'm wearing, then stepping over the idol's crossed legs to stretch up to get the other. My fingers send the foot of my stolen boot swinging, firstly away from me, then back into my grasp. I take a firm hold, and pull - my boot sticks at first, the shiny vinyl stretching, then comes free abruptly, sliding off the statue's snake-phallus and sending the flower petals spilling out of the cuff, showering me in a cloud of white. The sexual symbolism isn't lost on me, and it does make my stomach do a little back-flip, but that queasiness doesn't stop me from deriving great pleasure from thrusting my naked foot into the boot, where it belongs, and pulling it back on.
"Kro-gor... kro-gor..."
"And 'kro-gor' to you too, you bastards", I hiss back at them.
Properly booted once more, I feel truly alive again, and quickly tuck my hair back where it should be, divided into two hanks, each stowed away down the top of one of my boots. For a second, I stare defiantly down at the painted primitives, forgetting for a moment that I currently have no powers - I must be quite a stunning sight, in my long black boots, flowers and feathers in my hair, covered in body-paint... they should be worshipping me, not some stupid snake-monster. Don't they appreciate the honour they're receiving, getting to see me naked...?
I would enjoy the experience, maybe even try to encourage them to see me as "goddess" rather than "sacrifice", but at that moment, the discomfort inside my head rises to a new peak, the throbbing becoming the stabbing of numerous hot needles, piercing my brain. My head seems to be full of noise; the rising chant, the murmur becoming a shouted chorus, and something that could be rock grating against rock...
The chanting ceases. The sound of stone grinding on stone continues, as though a mountain is collapsing behind me - but the only thing behind me is... is...
...the statue.
Again, shadows move around me, growing, stretching out over the crowd, and the natives fall back like the sea retreating after a wave crashes on the shore. I have to look behind me, no matter what my subconscious tries to tell me...
The statue has come to life, the stone as supple as flesh and muscle, but still cold and dusty-grey. The mouths of the four serpents open and close, tongues flicking out into the air, and I can see that inside each mouth, there is a coating of something dark, something red.
"Kro-gor!", roars the crowd, and every nerve, muscle and neuron within me cries out "run!". I pick a direction, jump down from the pedestal and make a dash into the pitch-black jungle, not knowing what could be lurking there - but somehow I doubt it could be worse than waiting to be torn limb from limb in the four mouths of this people's petrified deity. The dried blood in those mouths seem to suggest that such a grisly scenario has been played out many times before...
...to be continued...
Posted at 23:25 on 18.05.2008
~ o O o ~
Previously...
A Darkening Tide - Chapter 6 - 28.05.2008
A Darkening Tide - Chapter 5 - 26.05.2008
A Darkening Tide - Chapter 4 - 24.05.2008
A Darkening Tide - Chapter 3 - 22.05.2008
A Darkening Tide - Chapter 2 - 20.05.2008