God Within Us

Large, shaggy hounds ran ahead of the approaching warband, causing their horses to spook as they burst from the shadows. Behind the dogs, the triumphant stalkers approached warily towards their cornered prey. With their shields raised high, Yesugei spotted a dozen clawed hands painted onto beaten leather stretched over wicker, and on either flank along the narrow approach there came archers with short, crooked bows. The warriors marched beneath a red banner bearing the black hand of their new god, and as they drew closer the hillmen began to beat their spears and axes against their shields, crying, "Iron, awaken! Flame, awaken!"

Yesugei thought they meant to throw themselves into a headlong charge, but they instead came to a sudden halt just beyond the reach of his arrows. Then the ranks parted to reveal one man who came upon them alone, riding a dark steed that blended with the night.

“Vuk Ironbiter,” called Lavr, his tone icy. The boyar gave a shake of his head, beckoning Yesugei to lower his bow as the tribesman approached.

The rider's armor was a mix of rusted maille and crudely-hammered iron plates, but he rode quiet as the dead upon his horse. His helm was little more than a rusty iron cap, but over it the man wore the spotted pelt of a mountain cat. The warrior called back to Lavr, “How clever is this sheep - to know the name of the wolf that stalks it.”

“I see no wolf - only a shaggy pup, far from home.” Lavr snorted. The boyar paused, looking upon the man's face as he came into the moonlight. “A one-eyed pup.”

The pale light that shone from the peaks seemed to be swallowed by the gaping hole in the rider's face. There, only darkness swirled, angry and roiling within the ruin of the Ironbiter's face. The wound was fresh - the flesh around the hole still glistened wetly with blood - and for a moment Yesugei thought he would see the terrible smile of Jirghadai leer at him once more. The man named Vuk hissed, and reared up his horse forty paces from their trapped band.

“A gift of my eye I made,” said the warrior in a gruff tone. “The first of many to the Lord's name.”

“So it is true you have forsaken the Old Gods,” muttered Lavr. “Are the Tugars so fickle, to dance between gods like whores between men?”

He was baiting the man to charge, Yesugei knew. The warrior had drawn just far enough from his band that even those who were mounted would not have time enough to pull back their leader if he rushed them now. But the tribesman only spat in their direction, and hissed to them, "The ones you call the 'Old Gods' were yours - it is the true gods we hold to now, ones much older and wiser. And they hunger - after so many years, they hunger."

A terrible rage lurked out from the shadow of the rider. Tendrils lifted from the darkness and grasped towards them all as the Tugar warriors howled and cheered. Whispers abounded from the shadows of the mountains, calling hungrily for sacrifice in a tongue at once foreign and familiar to Yesugei. It was the song of the stars that the shadows recalled - the stars which in the dead of night were legion and peering excitedly from the heavens. Hunger. Hunger and hatred, cold and resolute as iron.

Lavr did not mask his fear, and it brought a smile to the Tugar leader's face. Tuyaara drew forth past Kargasha, and spoke quietly, desperately to the Ironbiter. “It does not have to be like this, to give your people to these gods is a sin that will destroy you.”

“No, Khormchak, you understand nothing!” Snarled the warrior, jabbing a finger at the Klyazmites of their company. “You have not seen our villages burned by the folk of the Blackhand! You have not had your sons taken as slaves for tribute! They call us barbarians for keeping to the Old Gods, but it is they who invaded from across the sea, and claimed our land for theirs with iron and blood!”

To this, Lavr had no reply - the boyar’s mouth was set in a hard line, and he avoided Yesugei’s gaze as he looked back. Kargasha and Bykov remained resolute, but Yesugei saw a terrible guilt in their eyes. The elders of the Qarakesek had spoken of how the Great Tribes had made demands of slaves and livestock from those lesser. But then…did the Qarakesek themselves not demand the same from the Huwaqis, the Modkhai? Were Khormchak and Klyazmite so different?

As he clenched his fists in anger, Yesugei saw the dark, scarred pit of the hillman's eye begin to weep with blood. The anger was his, not that of the gods - the rage was his, and his alone.

“We have been wronged,” spoke Vuk. “But when the invaders have been thrown from our peaks, every man, woman, and child, it shall be made right. And then...then we will start on revenge.”

The warrior drew a worn ax from his belt, and pointed it towards the boyar atop his horse. “I will not kill you, son of the Blackhand. You will be raised up in a cage, naked before the eyes of the gods, and you will watch us give all your people to the Majesties piece by piece. Only then will we have our revenge. Only then will you understand, truly, that the time of the Klyazmites and princes has been broken. You are weak now, and it is we who are strong.”

“That strength will consume you,” Yesugei spoke carefully. He remembered the black pit of the Apostle’s mind as its curse ate him alive.“The flames you call upon care not for the ambitions and vengeance of mortal men. For the price of your rage, these gods will take all you have, and leave nothing but ashes in your mouth when you have done your part.”

“A price I would gladly pay,” spoke the warrior with a terrible smile. “The world is ending - this I have seen in the flames, Easterling. Things are awakening that few stories can recall, and even fewer men remember those stories. They will consume the light regardless - but when we leave this world, I would do so with the taste of our enemies' ashes in my mouth - let me taste justice before I die...let me taste revenge for my fathers' fathers, and I will go into the darkness in bliss.

“And you, Khormchak. I have no quarrel with you - but if you stand in the way of our bliss…the gods will take you all the same.”

Vuk waited for a reply. None came.

“A shame.”

The warrior raised a gloved fist into the air, but before he could give the order to attack Yesugei let his own arrow fly. The feathered shaft hissed through the air, and turned Vuk Ironbiter’s cry into an agonized howl. The hillman toppled from his horse with an arrow in his shoulder, and then from his flesh bloomed a white flame. The fire spilled over the man’s form, and his howl became a shriek…and then silence.

The Tugars drew back in terror of the white flame, and then the Klyazmites charged.

“Belnopyl!” came the cry from Kargasha, spurring his steed towards the frightened warband. Bykov and Lavr rode on either side of him in a wedge, and in the moonlight their swords glowed ghostly-pale. Arrows hissed out from the darkness towards the riders, but the shafts either fell short or bounced against hardened maille. The wordless screams of the Tugars swelled as the three Klyazmites rode on, and then they met in a clash of horse, men, and iron.

Yesugei saw several tribesmen scatter beneath the charge - two figures falling off the side of the path into the darkness - but then the Tugars closed ranks, and chaos took their world. Kargasha’s sword slashed across one man’s face before his pony took a spear in its belly and collapsed. Strong hands pulled on Lavr’s heavy cloak as he passed by, yanking him from the saddle. Bykov clashed against two shield-bearers, and jumped from his horse to cut down a third as his horse fell. Yesugei’s bow sang as he loosed arrow after arrow into the melee. Where his shots landed, men screamed as they caught aflame and their shields crumbled apart like dry kindling.

Pebbles loudly clattered down from the mountainside, and Yesugei turned to see more tribesmen scrambling down from the peaks. Two of them tumbled down the rocky slope with arrows in their chests, but then the others were upon the Khormchaks. Tuyaara hurled a rock at one man as he rushed them - when he raised his shield to guard his face, she cut his unguarded knee, and then his throat when he collapsed.

A large champion wielding a two-handed sword bellowed like a bull as he ducked Yesugei’s arrow, then swung madly at the archer. The heavy blade cracked loudly against the shield Yesugei raised, tearing long splinters of wood free. His bow fell to the wayside as the sword came down again and again onto his shield, and soon there was only a scrap of kindling and leather hanging from his arm. Yesugei shook free of the ruined shield, then weaved left and right away from the heavy blade. When the champion’s swings slowed, Yesugei splayed apart his blackened fingers and grasped for the warrior’s face.

Flesh bubbled and hair singed and smoked as his fingers curled around the warrior’s skull. The man shrieked and thrashed against his flaming grip, and when Yesugei pulled his hand away smoke was rising from his fingertips. The blinded champion writhed in agony on his knees, but as Yesugei drew his knife to finish him the man suddenly rose up and charged. A shoulder slammed into his gut, and then they both went over the edge of the mountain road.

The sound of battle faded into the growing distance and the darkness above, replaced by the rushing wind which filled Yesugei’s ears.

Crack.

Dull, dark pain. His whole body screamed in agony as he struck the rocky mountainside. He slipped further down, scraping his side against jagged rocks that cut into his robe and flesh like a thousand small knives.

Yesugei’s world turned upside down as he tumbled - the stars seemed to shine beneath him, and the mountains were now the heavens. Yesugei thrust his hands out, and found a hold against the rocky slope. His entire arm shuddered - he feared it would tear free from his body - but he held on for dear life and came to a sudden stop, swaying gently over the great nothing below.

A flash of light came from above. He angled his head up, and saw a long, thin tail of glittering stars arcing out over the ridge where he fell, and in its wake three warriors were sent screaming over the edge. Another flash, and then came a roar like thunder and grinding stone.

A shadow came down from the mountainside, gliding along the jagged stone as if it were ice. Then a hand came down just above Yesugei, and a shout cut through the darkness, “Lord Yesugei!”

His arms trembled furiously as Yesugei pulled himself up as high as he dared, and then he leapt up, reaching for the offered hand.

The arm he grasped was hard as stone, and fingers tipped in black claws sank deep into his hand.

And the eyes…they were speckled with a thousand small lights.

A thousand twinkling stars.