Chapter 118: Rewrite Chapter 1 – But better?

 

A thick musk hung in the night air, accompanied by drums. Darkness engulfed the entirety of the area. Just battling off this darkness was the illumination from a fire at the centre of the village; this village consisted of hundreds of houses, huts and other structures scattered around a large, circular, middle area.

Flames from the fire licked the sky. A thick musk hung in the air. The pounding of drums rattled through the streets and paths of the village. Chaotic sounds of feet slamming against dirt, screams, war cries, cheers, and chirps of excitement and praise all complimented the drums and exotic dancers who flung themselves around the open area.

Decorated in feathers, wildflowers of the desert and jungle surrounding them and long strands of corded grass decorated these dancers. These long grass stands hung from the sides of their hips, emphasising their natural curves. They move with sensual grace and elegance, which only emphasised their natural beauty. Others in similar clothes to the dancers walked around the tightly packed crowds, offering bowls of fruit and clay cups of drink.

Women painted red danced with large skulls of mysterious beasts and creatures raised high above their heads. Their bodies were painted black, with red paws and stripes, and they held extensive collections of wooden poles in their hands. Raised high into the sky, these poles displayed lines of human skulls. Those, for a more gruesome taste, though, turned their eyes off to some of the other dances.

Some women and the handful of men present who looked for a more sexual site turned their eyes over to the women painted white. Their breasts were exposed, and they only wore corded grass around their waists, and sides danced wildly in their groups. They danced in formation, but their bodies stirred passion amongst those watching.

Suggestive glances and small motions of kisses and playful bites to members of the crowd only caused more explosions of cheers and laughter. Not to be outdone, some women in red took out large spears, the ends of which they covered with large cloths. After dousing these clothes with oil, they set alight and began to twirl as they danced.

Four figures sat along a platform. Tall headdresses of feathers sat upon their heads.

Despite all having body paints unique to themselves, their eyes fixated on what lay before them. Shadowy figures danced around the fire which sat at the centre of the celebrations, natives - chanting and celebrating beings extraordinary beyond comprehension. Tonight was a special night, that was clear. Yet despite the merriment of cheers and laughter, tension hung over the four figures along the platform. From the four figures, one glanced past the flames to four women bound to poles.

"You look worried?" one of the four figures said, her heavy accent rolling the letter R and pronouncing the I as an E. The first of the four glared. It was a deep, naturally stern voice but still distinctly female.

"I will be fine, Cluupyte," a softer voice replied, a small douse of joy added as she spoke in her way of lightening the mood.

Her accent was the same as that of the stronger-voiced woman but with more feminine charm and softness. Cluupyte sighed and turned back to watching the dancers. The crowds and performers were now beginning to gather around the central fire. Cluupyte had known this woman long enough to know when she was disheartened, but still, she admired the bright grin she beamed out towards the tribe to keep the spirits high.

As more women sang and danced, she began to sway gently in place to the drums as she watched the tribe gather. Cluupyte stayed silent, however. Reaching across, she gently took the woman’s hand. The woman looked back to Cluupyte and grinned.

“You are far stronger than I, Nolkonoe,” Cluupyte said with a small laugh. Nolkonoe laughed as well but quickly blew a kiss towards a group of young men who passed. Nolkonoe gave a small chuckle as she saw a bright red flush take over the faces of the young men.

“Vultures,” another four women sighed, shaking their heads slightly.

“Hey!” Nolkonoe snapped, a small giggle following this as she turned her head back towards the dancers. The huntress again shook her head. Vultures, all of them always wanting to take the glory for themselves, she thought as she also turned back to the celebrations.

War cries echoed from a group of women. Their bodies were painted black with large red stripes, and they screamed an ear-bleeding scream. More women, their bodies painted white and decorated with large red feather patterns, danced in a larger circle around the others. Throwing themselves around a fire, their bodies turned and twisted in the firelight, white-bone knives gripped tightly in their hands.

In their hands, they held bundles of white feathers. Unlike the dark-painted warriors, these women did not scream or yell, trading the war cries for chants and songs. Their elegant bird-like movements were rhythmic and mesmerising.

The third ring of people lay beyond these, with dark red patterns and arrow shapes on their skin. They brandished arrows made of white bone and colourful feathers. Lastly, beyond them, an outer circle of women again painted white but with green markings, held large bundles of green cloth aloft.

Close by, four women stood bound to poles. At first glance, you could be forgiven for thinking they were demons. They had allowed slices of victims' flesh sewn onto their skin. Their teeth had been filed sharp, and their eyes held a feral hunger. Across from them stood an extended stone platform on the other side of the fire.

Four more women sat there, each of whom wore a paint associated with one of the four groups of dancers. Each woman held a knife in one hand and an item associated with the dancers in the other. Standing in unison, the woman in black and red paint looked over the dancers. A large headdress of red-and-black banded feathers adorned her. The inner circle of dancers with the matching body paint looked to her.

As she moved away from the stone, she walked to the first of the bound women. Placing the tip of her knife against the chin of the woman, she forced the woman to lift her gaze. As she did this, the bound woman cackled and thrashed toward her. She bit and snapped her teeth along the blade of the knife. Sneering disgustingly, the standing woman grabbed the other's short, dirty hair and forced her head back.

"Don't worry, your death will have meaning," she said, placing her knife to the neck of the woman. As she did this, the other three leaders came to her side and did the same to the remaining three prisoners.

"Four fewer Raiders, four fewer traitors," the woman with the painted arrows said with a sneer. As all four women took their places, some stared with disgust at the bound women, some with pity. Regardless of their belief, it would not stop tonight's events.

From the deep darkness of the village, a woman came forward. Coming into the light, all dancers stopped. In unison, they fell to their knees. The woman wore a tall headdress of bright red feathers, and her body was painted with red flames, the paws of wolves, and the wings of dragons. A cackle came from one of the bound women.

"AH! KANROO! MEHARAQ!" the woman yelled. In response, the woman in red and black gave her a quick jab to the neck. Ignoring her, the High Priestess raised her hands into the air.

"Our goddess loves us," she began, walking through the people as crowds of primary women sat in the darkness and watched.

"Our goddess gives us life!” the High Priestess roared as she spun to look back at the crowd. All dancers had subconsciously lowed as they stared on with morbid knowledge of what was to come. 

“Her greatness gives us strength and power, but through her curse, her love comes at a cost. Our dedication," Walking past them and over to the four women, "tonight, we show that dedication through bloodletting. That of the invaders and that of our own," Standing back, she nodded to the women. The four turned their gazes from the high priestess to the bound raiders in front of them.

Reaching forward with one hand, she gripped the first woman’s head as she placed the knife to her throat. Their eyes locked. Narrowing her eyes, a sneer came to the lips of the High Priestess. Still making eye contact, she began to run the knife along the woman's throat. Eyes wide, the woman continued to cackle. 

The woman cackled even as her throat was slit. 

“Monsters,” Cluupyte said with a click of her tongue. The High Priestess was not bothered by this defiance, however, as she moved on the next to what she saw to be vile excuses for sentient life. 

As their blood bubbled and flowed, the four leaders moved back. The woman in black and red smeared the woman's blood onto the white knife, staining it red. The women in the corresponding paint leapt forward from their places. Leaping forward, they moved to the fire to join her in smearing the blood onto their knives.

The woman who held the feathers came forward. Coating the white feathers in the scarlet gore, her dancers did the same. The exact process was repeated. But this time, the women holding the arrows and the women with the cloth. Each began daubing their items in the blood. Not far from the crowd, just on the edge of the village, was a long line of flaming torches that led to a tall stone pyramid with an altar at the top. Around the cold, square altar, four young women sat in red feather headdresses with dragon wings painted onto their stomachs.

The High Priestess began to walk up the steps, joining the women at the top as those below displayed their knives, arrows, clothes, and feathers as offerings. Passing the women and entering the temple, she dropped to her knees before another woman. Nude, she stood as several priestesses, adorned with the same dragon-wing design as the High Priestess, smeared her in white paint.

"My Chiefess, offerings have been placed," the woman said as a large headdress was placed onto the head of the Chiefess. The woman nodded and allowed the priestesses to add their final touches before turning and peering out.

All priestesses had black hair that flowed down to their waist and past their round breasts and hips. Each woman's body was covered by a small, tan-coloured grass top that only covered their cleavage and a short, corded grass skirt corresponding to their shelter. One woman took a cloth rag and gently padded it around the neck of the Chiefess. 

A nervous sweat dripped down the strong yet elegant features of her face. 

“Yes, thank you,” she said, her voice naturally demanding the attention and silence of the room. Even the drums outside seemed to come second in line to reach their ears as she spoke—a voice which demanded status and respect. Glancing off to her side, she saw a man. Marked and painted, he sat as several women gently ran their hands along him. 

She could not hear what they were saying as cheers and drums began to roar outside as if to summon her forward, but she knew the words the women lovingly whispered to him. For a moment, the eyes of the man and the Chiefess locked. As if for a moment seeing through her nobleness, he saw an ounce of fear. Banishing any form of anxiety or displeasure from his face, he gave her a confidant nod. 

Swivelling, she turned to face the exit of the temple room. Next, all seemed so routine and quick. 

The Chiefess emerged from the temple. Dressed and painted the same as the others, she stood at the front of the altar as drums beat rhythmically. The only difference in her appearance was her tall, feathered headdress. Looking over her tribe celebrating below, the woman raised her hands high. The drums slowed, and the tribe looked towards the temple. Then in unison, the tribe charged toward the foot of the temple.

As the Cheifess raised her hands, the tribe cheered. Turning, she stretched her hand towards the formal preparation room behind her. A tall man left the room, escorted by two beautiful women dressed in the same attire as the women around the altar. Their hair flowed down to their hips, highlighting the curves of their large round breasts and rumps. The scantily clad women escorted him toward the altar.

The drums beat to the rhythm of the man's heart as the women lay him on the altar. Young women in large, red feather headdresses, sitting around the altar, each took hold of an arm or leg to keep him secure. The two girls that had escorted him to the altar took their positions for the ceremony. One of the girls held his head as a support, and the other sat between his legs.

For a split second, the eyes of the man and the Chiefess met again. He was scared; she could tell. 

Slowly she pulled down his loincloth, revealing his member to the tribe. The woman dressed in the feathered headdress walked behind the altar until she stood over him. She looked at the crowd and raised her hands to the sky again, and the crowd roared again. Reaching behind herself, she unsheathed a large, white stone knife from her side. Her eyes looked down at the young woman between the man's legs and smiled.

Standing, the young woman between his legs climbed on top of him and mounted his growing erection as the woman in the headdress stood over the man, knife in hand. As the young woman rode the man vigorously, the woman in the white headdress began her chant. Her crude and strange language filled the sky as clouds started to form above the village.

The followers cheered and hollered as the woman riding the man started to slam her hips into him more rapidly, taking his full member. After a few minutes of riding, the woman jumped from the man and began to gently suck on the tip of his cock. Lightning cracked the top of the temple's steps, signalling that the gods of rain were ready to receive their sacrifice.

Splatters of hot semen spurted out of the man's cock and onto his chest, generating cheers and whoops from the crowd below. Smiling, the woman in the white headdress raised her knife above the man as the girls around the altar started to chant, and the woman sucking on his cock started to bite and nibble at his member to keep him hard.

"Oh, great Gods who reign over life!" she roared into the heavens, “tonight, we give our thanks and keep our oath of faith to you,” her eyes turned from the night sky, and down onto the man.

“We offer to you death, so from it may come life. We offer to bring fertility, prosperity, and strength to our people,” taking in a deep breath, she closed her eyes. With another breath, she opened her eyes and continued. A cold glare replaced the warm sympathy that once sat in her eyes.

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"Please accept our sacrifice of this young, fertile man so that the trading merchants of the union who come tomorrow may bring to me what I most desire!" Without wasting a second, the woman in the white headdress plunged the dagger into the man's chest.

Crimson blood splattered down the altar's sides as she ripped open his chest. She plunged her hand into his sunken chest and ripped out his still-beating heart. Blood flowed down her arms as she held the part up into the night. There was a moment of silence as the drums quieted. The tribe looked to the skies as if expecting something, and as if on cue, the rain started to patter down onto their bodies.

Cheering erupted from the crowd as they all started to dance and celebrate. People began to take off with partners for a long night of sex and drinking. It was always rare for a sacrifice to take place, but when the rituals to the God of fertility and harvest did occur, it was always a raucous affair. The woman in the white headdress watched as the man's body was carried down the temple steps to be ceremoniously skinned and have his meat roasted so the tribe could consume his spirit to live on within them.

"You did well, our Chiefess," A female voice from behind the woman in the white headdress called.

The woman in the headdress turned and smiled at the other woman as they cleaned the altar with pails of water. 'Success' well, that was a word for this. A twisted celebration of life and worship of the goddess mixed with the mourning of a loved one dying. The Chiefess narrowed her eyes as her false smile faded. As if reading her thoughts, the high priestess touched her shoulder. "Don't feel pity for him".

Nodding, the Chiefess forced a smile to her lips as she did her best to banish the morbid look she had. The priestess laughed.

"I have to admit I didn't mind mating him either!" the girl that had ridden the boy laughed. Yet the Chiefess stayed quiet at the cackles of the priestesses, her eyes transfixed onto the boy's flesh as it was being cleaned with hot water.

"Despite the festivities, no one should stay up for too long tonight as the merchants will be arriving early tomorrow, so all need a good sleep," she said as she started walking down the temple steps.

"Are you going to bless the man's body before he is cooked?" The woman yelled after the Chiefess.

"No! I need sleep," The Chieftess yelled over her shoulder as she continued down the steps. She passed the men placing the meat onto the spit roast, then the girls that had happily danced to entertain and seduce their victim.

But there was a feeling tugging down at her heart. She knew that all here mourned the death of the man. Yet none were willing to show that fear or sadness to the goddess who looked over them.

"I'm sorry," she muttered as she stared down at the wife and family that had taken in the man they had sacrificed.

The two women in the large, red feather headdresses looked at each other, then at another woman dressed the same as them. Due to the darkness and inability to see the women's faces, the Chiefess couldn't see the eyes of the women widening. The high priestess stood closer to the family. Walking over to them, she leaned down and whispered to the family.

A small smile came to their lips as they lowered their heads.

"Laugh," was the word muttered into her ear.

They knew they would need a sacrifice this month, but for it to have been one of their own…the Chiefess felt her hand curl into a fist. Digging her nails against her flesh, she relaxed. 

She turned to the High Priestess and gave a warm smile.  

“The merchants are meant to arrive tomorrow, and some huntresses mentioned a horde of Desert Crawlers in the area. So, I want to get up early to see if we can thin out their number before the merchants arrive,” The Chiefess turned from the High Priestess, her smile staying present as she walked down the steps. Carefully, she would step to the side to avoid dipping her toes in the man’s blood.

People stepped to the side without words, only nods of respect. Their smiles would fade and looks of unyielding loyalty would appear. Even drums slowed to silence as she passed. As if them making noise as she passed would retract from her greatness. She did not look back to those many eyes which followed her.

She kept her headstrong, the smile on her lips evident and comprehensive as she walked confidently forward. Through these hundreds, she reached the edge of the celebratory ground. As if only noticing now the silence which followed her, she turned and saw the gazes which were fixated on her. Taking in a deep breath, she turned and raised her arms.

“ENJOY THE NIGHT! Allow your pains and fears of the future to fade, just for tonight, my sister and brothers!” she yelled. As if only now being permitted to enjoy themselves, they responded with cheers and shrieks of merriment as they returned to their festivities.

 As the attention faded from her, she continued forward into the village. After a couple of hundred meters, when the chatter and drums were just an irrelevant noise in the distance, she slumped her shoulder against the wall of a house.

“Ack,” she muttered as she sighed and pushed her head against the wall. Pushing herself off the wall, she began to wander through the streets. Her smile was now gone, replaced by a resting frown. It was a long day and now a longer night.

Wondering through the streets, she found herself at the base of a stone pyramid. Making her way up the steps, she glanced over her shoulder and down to the large fire in the middle of the celebrating people. Reaching the top of the steps, she continued forward in a large stone structure. Walking inside, the moonlight flickered over her fur carpet. Shivering in the cold night air, she closed the large, heavy cloth curtains behind her.

She made a move to go towards her bed, but she looked down. Blood splattered against her lower half and chest. Lifting her hands, she saw the blood covering her fingers—walking over to a large lug of water she had picked up before and picking up a clay bowl. Walking over to the cloth, she pushed it to the side with her arms before moving outside.

She recoiled for a moment as the air hit her. Flinching, she carried on and around the corner. Placing down the bowl and jug, she knelt. Picking up the jar of water, she began to pour the water into the clay bowl. Dipping her hands into the cold water, she cleaned the paint from her arms. Her eyes stared down onto the village and across to the large wooden gate separating them from the canyon entrance.

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Tomorrow. The merchants would be here… For a moment, she stopped as she turned to her steps. Just over the top of the floor, she saw the top of a familiar headdress.

“What is it, Nolkonoe?” she said as she returned to scrubbing the paint from her skin as Nolkonoe advanced up the steps.

“I just came to see how you were doing,” She responded as she reached the top steps.

“I am fine,” the Chiefess responded. Nolkonoe stared at the Chiefess. Her eyes were fixated on scrubbing the blood from her hands.

“You know I could have offered the sacrifice, right?” Nolkonoe said, seeing what the Chiefess was doing and walking over to her.

“The high priestess said otherwise. And anyway, it is not like I haven’t done it before. It is no different to sacrificing a raider or beast,” the Chiefess responded; Nolkonoe sighed as she said this. They were silent for a moment. Kneeling in front of the Chiefess, she cupped some of the water in her hands before swiftly moving behind her.

“I will do your back,” she said as she began to run the water over her back. Jumping, the Chiefess scowled and turned to look at her.

“Stop!” the Chiefess snapped.

“What is wrong?”

“Nothing! I am fine,” the Chiefess snapped back to her hands. The blood was still there.

“Are you nervous because he is coming tomorrow?”

“He may be coming tomorrow,”

“His father sent a letter saying he is,”

“Oh, and he has never lied!” the Chiefess retorted. She leapt as Nolkonoe squeezed her sides. Wrapping her arms around her, she rested her chin on the shoulder of the Chiefess.

“Well, I will scout about; if I see any interesting men, I will have sex with them before diverting them to you!” Nolkonoe said this with a laugh; the Chiefess even giggled a bit as she elbowed Nolkonoe.

Once the Chiefess was washed of paint and blood, they both stood.

“Go, I want to sleep,” the Chiefess said, taking the jug and bowl back inside.

“Ok, I will have some Vultures come by tomorrow to remove the paint,” Nolkonoe said, and with a last few words, Nolkonoe left. Alone, the Chiefess returned to her hut.

Climbing onto the pile of fur blankets and imperial-made pillows, she nuzzled down.

“Tomorrow…. maybe,” she said, her eyes closed to the sounds of the tribe in the distance. The sounds of raiders as their limbs were torn from their bodies. What a lovely sound.

 

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