Eruption

Tyler Jensen crouches silently in the dark mist, the only sound the ever present moisture dripping from the overhead canopy. He rarely thought of himself as Tyler since that fateful day that changed his destiny forever.

After the destruction of Poolto, he’d fled in a fit of anger from the only friend he’d found since becoming an agent of destruction known as an Onyalum. The Creator Thosolan had extended a hand in friendship, and Tyler had rejected it in a cold and violent way.

Since then, he’d traveled the Universe taking countless lives to use their bodies for death and destruction. He’d lived within many civilizations, passing on his internal pain to all who got in his way. But the flames of his anger could not be quenched and he rampaged through the cosmos like a demon loose from hell.

The anger was a dagger in his side, and the hatred drove him to destroy and inflict pain on everyone and everything around him. He wanted them to feel his loss. He’d never asked to be transformed into the monster he’d become, and since that terrible day when he’d been forced into the Universe alone and frightened, his life and his soul had been poisoned by his inability to adapt to the new existence. He hated the Universe, its Creators, and especially the Onyalum he’d become.

Onyalum—those ethereal creatures that live outside the real Universe. Created without purpose, they lived through the vacant flesh of the dead they possessed, carrying out their malicious wills on the helpless creatures they hid among. Like vultures they’d wait, picking their targets carefully as the spirit fled in death. Then they filled the lifeless corpses with their unholy essence, bringing back the life of a changed and distorted person. Only then did an Onyalum have the power to affect the material creations of the Universe.

It was an Onyalum that changed Tyler—an Onyalum who called himself Adanni. He was still part of Tyler, a schizophrenic presence that wanted freedom and control. But Tyler had removed that threat. After his angry fit with Thosolan, Tyler had forced Adanni so deep into his subconscious, the alien was only a memory.

Tyler blamed Adanni for the pain and suffering he felt after becoming an Onyalum. It was Adanni who had transitioned blindly into Tyler so long ago, merging the two spirits into a single entity—an entity neither wanted. He blamed Adanni for the destruction of Poolto and the loss of the family he should have had. Adanni was the true cause for the uncontrollable anger that drove him to his malevolent path of destruction. It was Adanni who fed his wrath.

Tyler held only one other being in equal contempt—Nayllen Hooss, the power hungry weapons manufacturer on Poolto. After the fall of the Emperor, he’d become one of the most powerful men on that world, but at the cost of billions of its people. He’d betrayed Tyler, the Emperor, and his world, causing the destruction of nearly all the major city centers. Tyler, then Admiral Osloo, had followed the evil man, sheepishly walking into his web of lies and deceit—a victim of his own naiveté. Ultimately, it destroyed the Admiral and Tyler’s one chance at a normal life.

But he'd had no choice. Nayllen had threatened Tyler, threatened the Admiral's family, and threatened the Admiral's unborn child—Tyler’s child. Tyler felt he deserved to be a father, deserved a moment of happiness after everything the Universe had served him. But he was unfairly ripped from that dream before his son had been born. The child was delivered into a world that knew peace, but it was a diminished world forced to rebuild in the aftermath of near annihilation. Because of that destruction, Tyler held Nayllen Hooss in equal contempt.

Tyler’s naiveté helped cause the destruction of Poolto and now it turned him inward, twisting him into a malevolent ghost plaguing planets and stars. He’d transformed into a demonic madman, vengeful, uncontrolled, and determined to make the Universe pay for his suffering. He sought a way to make them all pay.

As Tyler crouched in ambush, his anger stirred restlessly while remembering those past events. At this moment, he was the tribal leader of a band of warriors fighting a competing species encroaching on their lands. Both species were intelligent and fought ruthlessly for the resources they needed to survive. Their battles were primitive but bloody, and it was the perfect world for Tyler to vent his anger.

After leaving Thosolan in a facsimile of Dale's Diner, Tyler had sped through the Universe spreading his own brand of Onyalum chaos and destruction. He’d become that very thing which he feared and loathed. Like all Onyalum, he sought worlds where he could reap his vengeance and he’d been surprised how easy they were to find. Perhaps the struggle for life was just a natural result of evolution, but Tyler didn’t think about such things. He only thought of death, anger, and destruction. The more the merrier, the bloodier the best.

Survival of the fittest was a universal truth Tyler operated by, and he was determined to be the fittest of all. He possessed countless beings during violent conflicts, taking over everything from foot soldiers to generals. The higher the rank, the more destruction at their disposal. And dispose Tyler did. Millions died from his vicious interventions, but his pain and anger were never quenched, so he continued killing on any world that strayed into his path.

Like the drugs he’d once bartered on Earth, he needed the violence—he fed off the gratification hand to hand combat provided, and he became adept at all its forms. He’d learned to avoid planets where technology was advanced and sterile, favoring primitive worlds where sweat and blood ran in rivulets across the battlefields. Computer controlled troops and precision bombing could not satisfy his cravings for death and destruction. He was addicted to gore, and only blood could fill the empty void that was his soul.

Early on, he’d taken over primitive animals, learning to hunt and kill for survival. But these bloody forays into the animal kingdom quickly lost their appeal as the primitive minds were too wired to instincts. Their lives became predictable and boring, and though the violence was real enough, the passion and anger was missing. After that, Tyler moved on to worlds that harbored intelligent beings capable of the wanton destruction his twisted mind desired.

This was one of those worlds, and after so many battles, he could no longer remember how long he’d been there. Many seasons had passed, and new generations ruled. He vaguely remembered the current generation when they nursed on their mothers. Over that time, he’d possessed various members of the tribe, steadily moving up through the ranks. Merciless and mindless, his fighting became legendary with peers and leaders.

When he felled a body in battle, he was quick to pick another, sowing destruction as a farmer a field. Through countless battles, he honed his skills, developing into the ruthless leader he was today. Combining his primitive strength with the advanced tactics of Admiral Osloo, he’d created one of the most fearsome leaders the tribe had ever seen. And they rallied behind his rage.

Tyler possessed the being once called Rock Root because of his unwavering and impenetrable fighting techniques. But after being uprooted during a battle early in his career, Tyler took over the dying hulk, bringing back a vigorous and more violent warrior. The tribe deemed Rock Root’s survival as a miracle of the forest spirits, but it was the powerful spirit of an Onyalum that brought back the failing flesh. Though the tribe worshipped this miracle as a gift from the gods, Tyler thought of it as destiny.

The wisdom and battle tactics Tyler brought to the young warrior quickly set him apart from his comrades. It wasn’t long before his tribal name changed from Rock Root to River Red. It was a name derived from the blood he shed during battle. On many occasions, the sounds of fighting ended with Tyler deep in a pool of blood, the shattered remnants of his enemies scattered about his feet.

His fellow warriors feared him and quickly learned to fight far from his side in any conflict. Several had fallen to his weapons while straying too close during the heat of battle. When River Red fought, he was a man possessed, and whether friend or foe, all would be felled if they found themselves too close to his ruthless weapons. Like a juggernaut, he bashed through enemy ranks, spreading fear and panic as they met their final moments. He was a legend, but the killing wouldn’t satiate his anger.

The mist grew thicker than normal, and Tyler used his uncanny sense of smell to visualize the battlefield ahead. He and his soldiers were further from home than they’d ever been, and Tyler knew it was an enormous gamble for the tribe. Without their warriors, the village was protected by only fearless women and brave young boys. If his gamble paid off, they would inflict heavy damage to the enemy, perhaps finally chasing them back to the plains of their birth.

His large nostrils inhaled deep breaths of air, but he couldn’t detect anything yet. They would come soon, Tyler was certain. His scouts had literally stumbled across a regularly traveled route between the enemy’s village and their staging areas. The hapless victims would soon prepare for battle, and the staging area would be their first stop. This time, however, they would find the battle much closer than expected. Surprise was what Tyler knew would win this battle.

River Red’s tribe was an indigenous species to the tropical rainforests covering much of the equatorial region. They’d evolved along similar lines as the highland gorillas of West Africa, eventually growing into a primitive society that spent their lives harvesting the bounties of the jungle. Before the war, their world had been peaceful and abundant until denizens of the distant plains spread like fire into the forest. They were a cancer infecting the highland forests, destroying most of what they found while consuming the rest. They wanted the jungle’s bounty and took all they could despite the costs.

Although both species were similar in evolution, the people of the plains had evolved far quicker than River Red’s. When they’d first encountered River Red’s people, they had called them Mist Monsters for their incredible size and ghostly stalking within the jungle. Though the plains people were easily outsized and outnumbered early on, they had an intellectual edge over the people of the forest. They quickly learned from their mistakes, and continually developed better strategies and newer weapons. Each time they returned, they brought these to bear on the people of the jungle. Unlike the forest dwellers, the people of the plains evolved by competing with large predators, and this gave them a far greater capacity to adapt and survive.

When Tyler found this world, the plains people had already established many villages dotting the edge of the jungle. From these fringe settlements, they established trade routes to feed and supply the plains with the rainforest’s bounty. They developed rudimentary farming and clear-cut large areas of the jungle to reap the benefits of the rich, volcanic soil. It wasn’t long before they parted the dark canopy and entered the world of the Mist Monsters.

River Red’s people did not think of themselves as monsters but called themselves the Chosen because of their intelligence above all creatures in the forest. It was their belief the forest spirits bestowed upon them the intelligence to care for the jungle and its inhabitants. They viewed themselves as protectors of the land, and protect they did. For as long as their people could remember, they’d lived in harmony with the jungle and feared anything that upset that delicate balance. The people of the plains upset that balance.

The Chosen called these plains people Achaaca after the small jungle insect that fed on the blood of others. Like the parasitic insect, the plains people fed on the jungle, stealing its life force, destroying the balanced harmony that existed. The Chosen would not allow this, and soon after discovering these invaders, war broke out between the two species.

Their battles were waged with primitive weapons since neither had developed basic metallurgy. They fashioned wood and stone into spears, arrows, and clubs, and though the weapons were crude, they were effective in close range combat. It meant bloody battles fought hand to hand in the darkest depths of the jungle.

Although there were many tribes of the Chosen protecting the forest, it was impossible to rally them into a united fighting force. Tyler had tried, but the Chosen refused to extend beyond their small villages. Despite this obvious setback, Tyler helped train many of the tribes so they could remain competitive in the face of their enemy’s changing ingenuity.

Tyler cared little for the land, politics, or religion; he only wanted the war. He’d carved a niche for himself with the forest denizens, and River Red was now spoken with reverence throughout the jungle. He was a living legend, and other tribes sent warriors to learn from his prowess. His presence had made a difference in their campaign against the Achaaca, and for the first time since Tyler joined this world, the Chosen were winning.

River Red’s tribe protected the lands between the plains and the Mountain of Fire to the south. The villages had been encroaching in this forbidden land, but at long last, the Chosen were on the verge of chasing the Achaaca from their protected lands. If Tyler’s ambush worked, the Achaaca villages would no longer have enough warriors to fend off a full scale attack. Because of that weakness, they would have no choice but to abandon their village and flee to the safety of the plains.

Tyler pulled a small leather satchel from his pocket and took a hefty sniff of a powdery substance. It was called donti and was used by the tribe for a variety of purposes. The warrior’s used it to heighten their senses during battle, the religious leaders used it in tribal ceremonies to commune with forest spirits, and the elder women used it to treat a variety of maladies, including infections from cuts and wounds—a serious problem in the jungle. The drug was made from the bark of a special tree common in the jungle, and it became an integral part of tribal life.

Tyler had no idea what was in it, but the effects were substantial. It was both euphoric and clarifying at the same time, and when Tyler first used it, he had the biggest rush of adrenaline he’d ever experienced. Despite being highly addictive, his use steadily increased to nearly twice that of other warriors. Under its dream-like influence, he fought like a demon.

He took another large pinch before returning the bag to his pocket. He knew his body size would likely prevent overdose, so he rarely thought about the negative effects of his addiction. As an Onyalum, he couldn’t die, so why worry about such things.

The Chosen were massive creatures, dwarfing every animal that inhabited the jungle. Though they walked upright, their arms were powerful and hung low on the body. Their bodies were proportioned similar to an ape’s with shorter legs, longer arms, and broad shoulders supporting a massive head that could withstand multiple blows. The extra length in their arms gave them a powerful edge during hand to hand combat, and with little effort, a Chosen warrior could throw an Achaaca twenty feet or further. It was their size and fierceness that ruled the jungle. They were formidable creatures that earned the ominous title Mist Monsters, but this physical advantage was counteracted by their inability to adapt quickly.

This was the Achilles’ heel the Achaaca learned to exploit. The Achaaca held an evolutionary advantage over the Chosen with their smaller size and adaptability to a changing world. They regularly modified tactics, creating new weapons and finding inventive ways to avoid the powerful bodies the Chosen possessed. It was this adaptability that ruled the plains, and they used it to remove or enslave any species that stood in their way.

Tyler knew the plains people would eventually dominate this planet, but he was willing to fight them as long as the Chosen held out. His anguish fed on the bloody conflicts waged through the jungle mist, and his warped mind thrilled at the hunt, relishing the pleasures of the kill. He’d found his home and he planned to stay as long as he could.

A slight change in temperature made Tyler re-focus on the jungle ahead. His nostrils searched for traces of the enemy, but so far, only old scents dominated the distant track. The breeze shifted slightly, and the change in direction gave Tyler and his men a distinct advantage. Most of his men were predominantly down wind and would detect the enemy long before they were detected.

Tyler was dressed for battle in a pair of shorts made from the leather of a small deer-like creature that was a mainstay of the Chosen’s diet. He wore no shirt, and his barrel chest, covered lightly with hair, didn’t provide protection. Around his neck, he wore a string of polished stones denoting his rank within the tribe, and slung over his back was a small shield made from a composite of leather, wood, and tree bark. The shields were a Tyler innovation necessary to protect them from the arrows the Achaaca now employed. He carried other weapons slung over his shoulder or stuck in small sheaths around his waist.

Unlike the Achaaca, the Chosen did not use bows and arrows, favoring chiseled rocks shaped like small disks with razor sharp edges. They were easier to wield in the jungle, and with The Chosen’s powerful arms, their speed and accuracy was unmatched by anything the Achaaca had in their arsenal. Tyler carried a standard set of six disks called Death Whistles by the Achaaca. They were named for the distinctive whistling sound they made during flight towards their victims. The sound was a siren of imminent death, and though the enemy used it to calculate enemy’s numbers, their quick deaths usually made the information useless.

Tyler also carried several knives of hard stone mounted in wooden hilts around his waist. He used these in close quarters combat after his primary weapon, called a Trogon, had been disabled. The trogon was crafted from a single piece of wood hardened by fire, and though it was slow to create, it withstood many blows while inflicting deadly wounds on the enemy. It was shaped like a large wedge and tapered at one end to a handle perfectly carved to the owner’s grip. Above and below the main bulk of the weapon, protrusions were carved to provide cutting and stabbing surfaces. When wielded by a trained warrior, the weapon cleared large swaths through enemy ranks. An additional bonus was it was too large for an Achaaca warrior to wield.

Tyler held his trogon at the ready, while gripping two death whistles prepared for flight. He was adept at throwing multiple disks and often took out several warriors with a single throw. The plan was to attack with a wave of death whistles, followed by a charge into the confusion that followed. Surprise was on their side, and Tyler figured the body count would be high.

His men were positioned in a semi-circle around one area of the discovered track, and though this new tactic was difficult for his men to learn, Tyler hoped they would wait the proper time to attack. The Chosen were linear thinkers, and full frontal attacks were their mainstay. New tactics were hard to assimilate and even harder to execute. Despite this, Tyler gambled they would carry out his orders.

The thrill of the pending battle pounded in his chest and his heart filled his ears with a rush of adrenaline. His heightened, drug induced senses painted a clear picture of the track that would soon run red with enemy blood.

River Red suffered many wounds during Tyler’s campaign, and across his sides, back, and chest, scars littered his body with mementos of past engagements. The only scar Tyler couldn’t claim credit for was across River Red’s face. A childhood friend had caused that scar while practicing with death whistles. Boys in the tribe learned battle skills early, and scars or even death were common during this training.

Absently, Tyler rubbed the scar on his face with the back of his hand. The broken flesh brought back memories of Rock Root and the incident that had caused the scar. Angry at his friend’s carelessness, Rock Root had nearly beaten the youth to death. These early signs of fierceness set Rock Root apart from his peers. He had been destined for greatness, and though he’d been cut down early in his life, Tyler brought him back from the dead to achieve his well earned reputation.

A large whiff of jungle air brought the faint smell of Achaaca, but Tyler judged they were still too far to attack. His two death whistles were the signal that would start the battle on the right flank. At that time, the right flank would loose their disks, dropping perhaps ten percent of the Achaaca warriors in that first wave.

Like The Chosen, the Achaaca carried shields to protect against the death whistles. However, so close to home, they would not be expecting and therefore would not be ready for the ambush. Some warriors would be quick to raise their shields, but many would not and would pay the ultimate price.

Meanwhile, the left flank would remain hidden until the right flank began its charge. At that time, they would let loose their death whistles, catching the Achaaca with their backs exposed. It was simple yet elegant, and the old Admiral inside smiled at its simplicity.

A wolfish grin spread across Tyler’s face as he used the very Achilles heel of The Chosen as a weapon against their enemy. The Achaaca would expect a single frontal attack leaving rear flanks undefended when Tyler’s left flank joined the battle. He felt confident the tactic would prove highly effective, if only once, but it hinged on his troops remaining patient for the proper signals. Either way, it would cause great confusion within the Achaaca ranks.

The smell drew nearer, and Tyler’s anticipation grew. He would bide his time and wait until the lead men were well past his direct position. At that time, he would attack the center of the line cutting them into two smaller groups. The beauty of forest fighting was troops had to move in long, thin lines through dense undergrowth. Even established tracks could never hold more than two men abreast, and this made it extremely easy for an attacker to split the bulk of the warriors into easily managed pieces. Tyler knew if the enemy could merge into a consolidated unit, they would be hard to assail.

His ears pricked at the sound of movement through the mist. His senses estimated fifty to sixty men stretched several hundred feet along the track. He was hoping most weren’t carrying their normal compliment of weapons as theory held those would be stored in their staging area. The smell was strong, but Tyler detected something different in the breeze. He couldn’t decipher what the change was, but he disregarded it to continue with the attack.

He heard leaders moving off to his right and he waited the requisite time to permit the line to move closer into position. So far, his troops were waiting for his signal, and as the sound of the last in line gave Tyler the needed information, he stood quietly and took aim. He couldn’t see his targets, but he knew how tall they were and aimed appropriately to inflict the greatest damage.

He threw his death whistles with incredible ferocity, and their sound shrieked through the forest air toward an unsuspecting enemy. Only a second after his release, the rest of the right flank hurled their disks into the darkness. The sound was a high-pitched war cry through the forest. Tyler heard the tell-tale sounds of disks hitting shields, but many found flesh. The distinctive sound as it sunk into the body was unmistakable, as was the thud of the body hitting the ground.

By now, the Achaaca were turned towards the right flank, their shields and weapons ready for the oncoming charge. Perfect, Tyler thought, we have their backs. He grabbed his Trogon firmly and let out a primal roar into the night signaling for the right flank to charge while the left flank released their death whistles. The enemy would realize too late their backs were exposed as yet another wave of deadly disks flew into their ranks.

Tyler had told the warriors on the left that the enemy would be crouched low behind their shields in preparation for the frontal attack. He hoped they would remember to aim low. Running through the undergrowth toward the distant track, he heard the satisfying screams as the second wave of death whistles sunk into the enemy’s exposed rears. Their numbers were now sufficiently reduced for a decisive battle.

Tyler was surprised there were no cries from the leader’s urging troops into battle formations. Had they been taken out by the Death whistles? It was too much to hope for, but surprise may have caught them off guard and unable to take proper cover. It didn’t matter, Tyler’s adrenaline pumped and he was ready to shed blood.

He came out of the dense undergrowth onto the enemy track and counted numerous bodies motionless on the ground. The disks had found their targets, and what remained huddled in confusion as the Chosen attacked from both sides. Tyler sprang into their midst, wielding his trogon like a battle axe. In a single blow he took out one warrior and severely wounded two others. They fell to the side like wheat and Tyler moved in quickly to finish them off.

All around, sound of wood on wood and stone on wood pounded through the forest as warriors met in hand to hand combat. The Chosen outnumbered the Achaaca, and the battle looked likely to end quickly as his men took out the remaining warriors.

Tyler dispatched four more warriors and was sizing up two when a whizzing brushed past his ear. In the heat of the battle, his mind mistook the sound for an insect. He ignored the sound as he moved toward the two warriors waiting to meet the legend. He lifted his trogon to strike a blow but suddenly felt a burning pain in his arm. He swung the trogon at the two warriors and took out one as the other blocked the blow with his shield. As Tyler pulled his arm back around, he noticed something thin and small sticking out from its back. It took a moment for him to realize it was an arrow.

Arrows, how can that be, they were on their way to the staging area? His mind raced at the implications and he paused to take stock of the situation. All around, Tyler heard the distinctive buzz as arrows flew through the forest into the fray. Tyler knew the archers were effective and searched with his senses to track down where they were located. He had it! The thrum of a bow as it released its deadly missile came from both ahead and behind. They were surrounded by archers!

Tyler didn’t have time to wonder why the enemy was so prepared for the ambush, but he quickly called to his troops informing them of the change in the battle. He urged them to crouch low and turn to charge the archers on both sides. On his command, they left the straggling enemy troops and made their way towards the nearest archers.

Tyler moved down the track in the direction of the enemy’s staging area and was happy to see most of the Achaaca slain from their initial attack. He had no idea how many warriors waited ahead, but the Chosen were too committed to stop the battle now. He ripped the arrow from his arm and tore down the path with his trogon held at the ready.

From the sounds ahead, the archers were spread in a thin line perpendicular to the forest track. He headed straight into the middle of this line as more of his men spread out to meet them head on. Arrows whizzed past and one grazed Tyler’s shoulder as the archers finally came into view.

As the Chosen bore down, the archers abandoned their bows and raised shields to block the initial attack. Tyler held his trogon like a battering ram and collided with the first archer in his path. The blow knocked the man back several yards as he stumbled to catch himself. Tyler quickly moved on the helpless warrior, trogon poised to strike the final blow.

Before he could deliver the final blow, two arrows sunk into his side. Though the Donti deadened the pain, the damaged muscles made arm movements difficult. His blow glanced off the haphazardly held shield, and he turned grabbing at the stinging rods protruding from his body.

The archer recovered and lunged at Tyler with a spear in one hand and the shield held high in the other. Tyler dodged the first attack, but as the warrior pulled back, the spear tip cut across Tyler’s waist. Again, he ignored the pain and raised his trogon to parry. Using his left foot as a pivot, he swung his body and the trogon around, landing a powerful blow squarely on the shield. The trogon caught the shield with a stabbing protrusion, and when Tyler pulled back for another strike, the shield came with it.

He ripped the shield away and moved on the warrior now defenseless on his back with spear held high. Tyler knocked the spear away with a backhand swipe as the man crawled backward to escape the deadly blow. The man twisted just enough for Tyler to miss the main body and clip only the right side.

The makeshift armor ripped to reveal naked flesh. Tyler pulled his trogon back to finish the man off but paused, surprised by what he saw. Underneath the warrior’s armor, the naked body contained ample breasts—female breasts. Even more confusing, two babies clung to the warrior, each with a breast in their mouth.

They were infant Achaaca carried by a female warrior. Tyler held the trogon motionless above his head, the vision hard to register through his battle focus. A woman warrior? The thought swam blankly through his mind. We have never met women warriors. The woman crawled away as she struggled to close the broken armor to protect her young.

Tyler froze in the face of the inexplicable vision, and every part of his life up to that point replayed through his mind like a movie in fast forward. The anger, the frustration, and the endless killing filled him with horror as he stared at the helpless Achaaca. Flashes of Linda and Toosia overlaid the absurd vision, softening his hardened heart and dowsing his unquenchable anger.

This was a woman, like Linda or Toosia, and he was poised to kill her and her babies. Babies! The very thing Tyler had been denied on Poolto. Could he do this? Could he kill them? Feelings of revulsion swept through him, and he backed from the poor creature, lowering his weapon in confusion.

The mayhem of the battlefield seemed distant and unreal as he surveyed the death and gore that littered the forest floor. Like a switch turning off, the raging inferno of Tyler’s anger was extinguished, and only an insignificant earthling remained. Was this the Tyler he knew? Was this the Tyler Linda had once loved? Would Toosia still love this madman on a mindless rampage? What had happened? Where had he gone wrong, and who was this demon he’d become?

Like waking from a nightmare, Tyler stood frozen by the horror surrounding him. He was paralyzed by the Achaaca woman and her young, and he dropped his weapon in disgust. A sickening chill spread through his body as he realized he’d become worse than any Onyalum. Not even Adanni could have wrought such savagery and ruthless violence. Tyler had become evil and he could no longer blame the alien inside.

He felt numb as the battle swirled through his vision of bloodied warriors downed by merciless weapons. Blood stained the ground, the trees, and the thick undergrowth of the jungle, and the legend of River Red stood amid it all suddenly repulsed.

The female warrior scrambled to her feet, confusion and desperation covering her face. She grabbed her spear catching Tyler lost in thought and with one swift motion, sunk it deep into his chest. Tyler stared dumbly at the protruding weapon as a detached part of his mind reveled such a small female Achaaca could land such a fatal blow.

Pain tore through his body as his Onyalum spirit fought the coming death. He felt his essence begin to separate from the body as the life force fled from the damaged heart. Tyler fought the inevitable release, willing each cell to resist the coming death. He willed his spirit to ignore the damaged flesh and replace it with life.

He fed his pain and anguish into the body, willing it to come back, willing it to live. Every part of his essence and every part of River Red’s body strained and boiled as he fought the force ripping him apart. Pain seared his soul as it spread to every part of River Red’s body. He felt the pending eruption as he convulsed, arching back in a losing battle.

He raised his arms one last time and released a roar that sent shock waves roiling through the jungle. The sound was desperate, painful, and forlorn, and all who heard it stopped fighting to seek the source of such a terrible cry. The Chosen watched helpless as their leader, hands and face raised to the sky, burned from within. Sparks and flames burst through his fur as the battle between the flesh and spirit waged.

Like that fateful day so long ago on Earth, Tyler was being torn from River Red’s body and pushed into the spirit world he loathed. He hefted all his pain and suffering upon that scream, venting the remnants of his anger into the thick, dark air. He longed for death, longed to leave the Onyalum existence behind and become nothing. But his curse denied him that wish. He was a demonic spirit, lost, alone, and filled with the pain and guilt of a man fallen farther than the depths of hell.

The warriors around him moved back as the flames from his body surged high into the night. The battle ceased as warriors stared in horror at the immolation of the great legend. River Red’s cries spread through the forest, filling his men with terror as they watched his defeat. What had happened? What would happen to them? They fled in panic, running from the evil magic they didn’t understand.

River Red dropped to his knees, his body a living torch, but Tyler wouldn’t let go. He refused to be released into that lonely void of the Universe. He fought with all his strength, but the laws of the Universe would not yield as a final explosion blew the body of River Red into a thousand glowing embers.

Tyler’s spirit hovered sullenly above the gory remnants of the fallen warrior, filled with shame and regret. His unquenchable anger had erupted, leaving only an empty husk. He hated what he’d become and desired escape from the existence he never chose. Was there no escape? Would his essence endure forever, outlasting countless civilizations? Would he even outlast the Universe? If his spirit could shed tears, he would have sobbed like the damned, but even that was denied. Only one escape remained for his desperate soul, the escape he’d relied on for years—drugs.

With one final glance at the gruesome scene below, he transitioned into the Universe a man without a soul.

Solitude

Tyler drifted through the Universe without direction. He wanted an escape—somewhere he could hide from the guilt that plagued him. He wanted to find a lost soul near death and resurrect their body to carry on his self-inflicted hell. That was his fate, a personal hell so rightly deserved.

He scanned memories for any worlds that might provide an escape, even considering returning to Poolto. But after being gone so long, he no longer cared to see that world. Everyone he’d loved would be dead—distant memories to haunt his eternal soul.

He even searched through Adanni’s memories, unsure how he’d accessed them. But he took advantage, searching many of the worlds where the alien had once been. He was instantly rewarded as a world drifted unbidden into his awareness. He quickly transitioned to the planet, floating above the spinning globe, but something nagged at his consciousness, so he paused in indecision.

The planet was unusual. The equator was wrapped with lush mountains tapering down to brown rocky plains spreading thousands of miles before ending at oceans to the north and south. The northern and southern hemispheres were mirror images of each other, both capped with icy poles. Tyler couldn’t remember any world spread out in the same way. Most were like Earth with drifting continents creating islands of landmass. This planet looked artificial, like a model a child might build.

Tyler turned to view the rest of the solar system and noted the planet’s axis was perfectly perpendicular to the ecliptic plane. The system only contained four planets around a relatively small sun, and the second planet out, the planet below him, didn’t possess a moon. Tyler didn’t care about that. If it contained intelligent life, it would suit his needs.

He focused his special vision on the boundary between the mountains and the plains, locating a small village tucked against the foothills. Considering the appearance of the squat buildings, he assumed the people were not technologically advanced. But that would also be fine. He transitioned to the small village just as the late day sun reflected fiery orange off the earthen structures. He was taken aback by the squalid buildings clustered on either side of a small track. Marks in the soil indicated they had at least discovered the wheel, but the village appeared deserted except for the wash lines of linens indicating someone lived there.

The houses were like mud igloos with a small door at the end of a vestibule opening into the structure. There were no windows, but a small chimney protruded from the back of the domed roof, and Tyler noticed puffs of smoke billowing from several of the chimneys. Each house was identical to the others with only their position in the village a distinguishing mark. They were obviously made from the earth of the surrounding hills as their reddish colors matched the ruddy streaks running throughout the landscape.

What appeared like plains from space looked more like desert up close. Tyler had randomly chosen the southern hemisphere, and from his position above the village, the mountains to the north rose to craggy, snowcapped peaks towering thousands of feet above the desert floor. Only rock and reddish dirt spread out from the village to the southern horizon, and everywhere Tyler looked, sparse vegetation eked out a miserable existence in the sterile landscape. It reminded him of Mexico.

The village consisted of ten houses, no fences, and nothing to indicate trade or commerce. Considering the barren landscape, Tyler wondered how the inhabitants survived. Why didn’t they live higher in the mountains among the lush vegetation? To travel into the mountains from the desert could take days, so it seemed unlikely they survived that way. Puzzled, Tyler stayed to see what the people looked like.

Since becoming Onyalum, he was no longer surprised by the look of alien creatures. Evolution was fairly consistent throughout the Universe, and Tyler found the similarities between worlds usually outweighed the differences. Though every species was unique, he could still find human-like qualities in most. They usually walked upright, though not all. They usually developed from a predator, though not all. Most developed societies plagued by conflict and war, though not all. He saw common patterns everywhere he went and no longer wondered what differences might exist. They would all have emotions, and they would all feel pain.

Movement to Tyler’s left drew his attention. He focused on an area overlooking the village in the foothills and spotted another building nestled between large boulders stuck into the hillside. It wasn’t shaped like the houses in the village, and the large wooden entrance soared to the height of the building.

It was the movement of the doors that had caught Tyler’s attention, and he watched fascinated as a congregation of people filed onto the hillside. He estimated about thirty people ranging from children to adults making their way back to the village. Each wore brown shirts and pants, and all wore white caps on their heads. It reminded Tyler of the Jewish caps people had worn on Earth. He couldn’t remember what they were called, but he remembered several customers wearing them while making purchases. Apparently, the cap was excellent at eliminating suspicion.

Most of the children took theirs off as they ran down the hillside chasing each other in a makeshift game of tag. The adults walked in tight clusters, talking profusely as they followed the path worn into the hillside from years of use. They were primitive people, but like the Chosen, they followed predictable lives.

Tyler moved in to get a better look. They walked upright, but were small and squat. Their walking looked more like waddling as their short legs struggled with a normal gait. Up close, the faces were narrow, almost weasel-like, and it was an odd disparity between the thin faces and their squat bodies. Small ears were placed on either side of the head, and underneath the caps, Tyler could make out hair, or maybe it was fur. The skin was brown, but the nose was clearly darker, nearly black. Their hands lacked hair or fur, so Tyler assumed it was more prominent on the head, typical for many evolved species. The nose and mouth protruded outward from the thin face, but the teeth looked human. He almost expected fangs or large canines, but when they spoke or smiled, their appearance was more human than animal.

They looked happy and content, something Tyler wanted to avoid. He’d been looking for something more desperate and depressed, but despite this, he lingered above the hillside while the congregation marched past on their way to the village. He turned up the hillside, eyeing the structure to determine its purpose. He assumed it was the equivalent of a town hall, and they’d just completed a meeting to discuss matters of import. But the distinctive architecture of the building conflicted with the huddled houses below. This structure bespoke something far more advanced.

He transitioned to the entrance and was startled as another creature came out of the dark shadows. Unlike the people moving down to the village, this one wore clothing the rusty color of the dirt hillside. On his head, he wore nothing, and little hair protruded from his dark brown skull. He was squat, fat, and old.

The old man swung the large doors closed, locking them with a key dangling from a rope around his neck. Tyler was impressed the old, diminutive creature had the strength to close such enormous doors. Perhaps they were strong despite their size. It wouldn’t be the first time Tyler found a species with that characteristic.

The man tucked the key beneath his robes and walked to the start of the downhill path. He paused briefly, watching the villagers near the bottom, but instead of following, he turned right around the large boulders working his way uphill.

Tyler was puzzled. Perhaps the man didn’t live in the village? Was he the caretaker? Maybe he was their leader and lived, like many leaders, overlooking his domain. Tyler wasn’t certain, but decided the old man was more interesting than the quaint village.

Despite the man’s size, he easily made his way up the steep slope behind the large structure. As he moved up the hill, Tyler noted the landscape grew harsher with the prickly scrub of the desert replaced with nearly solid rock. The rocks were brown with large streaks of the reddish hue so common to this world.

Though Tyler couldn’t see a defined path, the man moved as if from years of experience. He chose a path through the boulders often climbing over instead of between. He was sure footed and quick, and it belied his apparent age. Like the other people Tyler saw, the man didn’t wear shoes or coverings despite the harsh landscape. The man never flinched, so Tyler assumed his feet were thickly padded for the rugged conditions. Tyler counted five fingers and toes on the hands and feet which appeared like larger versions of a human’s. None of the digits possessed claws, but human-like nails were visible against the dark skin. The man reminded Tyler of a midget he’d once seen at a comedy club in Los Angeles.

As the man crested the top of the hill, he picked up a clearly defined path along the ridge heading west. Tyler’s curiosity was still piqued, so he followed the tiny fellow. He was amazed how quick the old man moved considering their strange, awkward gait.

Tyler surveyed the surrounding hills but saw no structures in any direction. They were far from the village, now obscured by the rocky outcrops, and wherever the man was headed, he was in a hurry. The sun was near setting, and Tyler assumed the man wanted to beat the approaching darkness. Considering the steep, rocky paths, Tyler understood his desire to avoid the night.

Tyler fell back as he surveyed the surrounding land, and was about to catch up when the man veered right into the side of a cliff. Tyler was confused and moved to the spot where he’d disappeared. Hidden from view, a small crevice in the solid rock was just large enough for a person to squeeze through. If you didn’t know it was there, you would easily miss it. He transitioned inside the crevice that opened into a vast cavern with a winding path moving downward.

Tyler was amazed at the beauty inside the rocky enclosure. He’d never been inside a cave, and though he’d seen them on television, he was stunned by the stalactites and stalagmites littering the ceiling and floor. Many met in the middle to form large columns rising hundreds of feet to the ceiling overhead. Though Tyler’s Onyalum vision could see in the dark, the interior surfaces glowed with a faint green light. He couldn’t tell what caused the strange light but guessed some sort of phosphorescent mold or algae.

The ghostly light created a dreamlike world Tyler couldn’t stop admiring. Falling behind once more, he quickly caught up with the man making his way through the maze of columns in the dim glow. The old man moved steadily deeper into the cavern as the path sloped into the depths. Where was he going? Was this cave his home?

They passed through another opening and Tyler spotted bright light leaking in from the other side. He followed the old man into a smaller cavern where outside light lit the path brightly as they neared the end of the cave. It was another entrance to the catacombs and the small man emerged into a combination of daylight and deep shadow.

They were on the backside of a cliff deep inside a long canyon carved through the mountain. The walls were smooth as if water had once run through the dry canyon and they, too, displayed the mottled, reddish color. But here, the exposed rock layers of colors appeared as if an artist had painted them. The walls admitted only a few rays of light to penetrate the gloom, and it gave the canyon a cathedral-like feeling. In that setting, Tyler couldn’t help thinking of the little man as a monk. Perhaps he was off to evening prayers?

The man moved deeper into the shadows as Tyler wondered how long they’d been moving. He assumed the man wouldn’t return to the village that night, and if he was a leader, which Tyler now doubted, he lived far from his people.

A flickering in the distance caught Tyler’s attention as he spotted a small fire lighting the vaulted walls with reds and oranges. The final rays of sunlight faded, and stars peaked through the dim twilight. The canyon grew dark but the man continued his steady march toward the fire.

Tyler used his Onyalum vision to zoom in on several people engaged in heavy conversation while drinking from clay bottles next to the fire. To the right of the blaze, light emanated from the canyon wall, and Tyler realized there was another opening in the rock.

He transitioned to the fire without waiting for the old man to complete the trek. Though he couldn’t hear conversations, he wouldn’t have understood them anyway. Each turned toward the old man as he neared the glowing firelight, and they raised their bottles in welcome, beckoning him to join.

The man stopped briefly to shake hands and exchange platitudes, but he graciously declined the offered bottles, indicating with sweeping hands he was going inside the cave. He made his farewells and moved into the light shining brightly from the rock wall. Fascinated by what might be inside, Tyler followed the man through the opening.

A short rocky passage led to a cavern smaller than the first cave, but rising thirty feet or more. The walls glowed with the mysterious green light, but mounted throughout the interior, lights shaped like vases provided an intense brightness compared to the feeble glow. No smoke rose from the lights, so Tyler assumed they were not burning coal or other natural materials. However, it was bright enough to fill the dark cavern with a sense of cheer despite the slightly claustrophobic setting.

Tables carved out of rock and mineral deposits were filled with people deep in conversation. Cups, bottles, and pipes dominated the crowd as they mingled and conversed in the cozy cavern. Tyler couldn’t believe his luck; he’d found a primitive bar on this desolate planet. He’d been losing hope, but now he felt at home.

The old man weaved through the tables to the back of the cavern where another passageway led deeper into the cave. Tyler followed, eyeing the drinks with envy. All he needed was a dying body, but everyone looked healthy considering their carousing. There was a generous mix of males and females, and many of the females sat on men’s laps with arms wrapped around necks. Tyler wondered if this were more than a bar. Perhaps a brothel?

He grew excited at the prospects since foregoing physical pleasure during his rampage through the Universe. He’d traded those feelings for the violent power inherent on the battlefield, and memory of that lost intimacy made Tyler anxious with renewed desires for one of the great pleasures of life. He abandoned the cavern and followed the man into the dark passage past rooms carved out of the solid rock. Doorways on either side of the corridor beckoned with imagined fantasies, but Tyler couldn’t tell what truly lay beyond. The small man ignored them as he worked his way farther down the twisted path.

At last, the passageway ended at an entrance guarded by two solid looking men. Each wore dreamy looks in their eyes, and Tyler instantly recognized clear signs of drug use. Instead of a door, a large tapestry separated the passageway from the room beyond. Woven into the tapestry, intricate designs of people in various positions of carnal knowledge formed a random mosaic. For Tyler, it was the holy grail of cave art as it indicated the purpose of the room.

The two men nodded to the small man as he passed through the tapestry and into the darkened room. Tyler was curious to see what pleasures it entertained as he entered the tapestry covered walls of forbidden pleasures. The ceiling was a low dome similar to the houses in the village but filled with the same green glow as the rest of the caves.

A couple lights adorned the walls and lit the room dimly. On the floor, rugs and furs covered the hard rock, softening the primitive cave with an atmosphere of leisure. A thick, blue haze hung in the air from some unknown source. Across the room, a naked woman danced slowly in a dreamy trance to music which Tyler couldn’t see a source. At her feet, three other bodies writhed in a sexual frenzy that disgusted Tyler despite his renewed interest. He made out a male and a female, but couldn’t determine the sex of the third one buried underneath.

The little old man stood at the entrance observing the promiscuity as if judging while cringing in horror at the orgy before him. Tyler had to admit, though anatomically similar to humans, the scene reminded Tyler of pigs in a wallow, and it wasn’t attractive.

On the left side of the room, a small alcove carved into the rock wall was filled with soft cushions and furs. Inside this nook, a form shifted luxuriously. The body was naked, and Tyler could clearly tell it was a female. She wore a strange tangle of wood and ribbon on her head, and Tyler imagined she was likely the proprietor of this house of ill repute.

Everything about this place was in stark contrast to the small village the old man had left behind. But despite that contradiction, the old man was mesmerized by the temptations around him. The woman moved out of her alcove and beckoned for him to join her. Nervously, he made his way toward her as she sat back spreading her legs in welcome. The man moved with purpose, stripping his clothes as he entered her warm embrace.

Tyler was stunned by the old man being consumed within her legs. She held tightly for some time, though Tyler felt certain they weren’t having sex. Finally, she released him and reached for a small pipe from the back of her cubby. She loaded it with a combination of black sludge and white powder before handing it to the man and grabbing a burning candle from a small recess.

Tyler was entirely engrossed as he realized he’d found that which he’d been searching for. He’d found an opium den, complete with prostitutes, and the prospects of self-abuse and erotica brought Tyler’s attention to its fullest. It would be the perfect escape from his insignificant Onyalum existence. All he needed was someone to die and release their spirit so he could replace it.

The old man inhaled deeply from the dark blue smoke, and his face instantly changed from nervousness to ecstasy. The woman held him throughout, pulsating as he hit the pipe again and again. The scene excited Tyler, and he yearned for the opportunity to experience the euphoric sensations the small man enjoyed.

His eyes glazed as he entered a dream-like trance similar to those within the room. The woman released him, and he moved sleepily toward the writhing orgy on the floor. He joined the dancing female, and both fell on a large fur, embracing each other in a sexual frenzy.

* * * *

Tyler left the little man to his escapades. Despite the desire to participate, he was put off by the activity without the dulling effects of drugs or alcohol. It was the addiction he wanted more than physical pleasures and having it so close yet so far only increased his frustrations.

He searched the patrons within the main cavern for any ready to leave the earthly bonds of flesh for the spirit world. But all were healthy, and anger rose to the surface, threatening to send him back into the cosmos. So close—he could nearly taste the smoke that taunted him with the promise of escape.

Hours wore on, and people shuffled out to return to their desolate lives on the desert plains. Tyler followed several for a while but lost interest as they easily made their way back home. He began to sense he’d have to wait days, weeks or even years to find some hapless soul ready to die. It was ghoulish even for an Onyalum, but he wouldn’t be denied the sins of the flesh, even if that meant the loss of an innocent life. Then again, he wouldn’t exactly call these people innocent.

He hovered near the ceiling of the cave as the last of the patrons headed into the night. Only the bar maids remained, cleaning the mess from the evening’s festivities. He was ready to leave, patience no longer possible, when the awkward movements of the strange little man emerged into the cavern from the back passageway.

The old man was unsteady and his eyes wore the lifeless expression Tyler had seen in the room of temptation. Obviously, he was still in the grips of the narcotic as he stumbled into a table knocking over several cups. The woman cleaning the table looked at him with concern and tried to help him stand up as she asked if he were fine. He shrugged her off violently and backed away shaking his head before knocking over another table.

Refusing help, he picked himself up and stumbled once more toward the entrance, waving off the staff who appeared genuinely interested in his welfare. Tyler followed him into the night where the entrance fire now simmered as glowing coals. A cold wind blew through the empty canyon kicking up dust and ash from the dying fire. The little man stubbornly pulled his cloak tight about him as he pushed into the blackness on auto-pilot.

Tyler followed him as he stumbled left and right while continuously making forward progress. Tyler flashed back to his life on Earth and the multitude of parties where he’d stumbled aimlessly into streets or onto beaches. He vividly recalled feelings of invincibility as he’d also waved off help from concerned clients. Extreme intoxication warped the mind, distorting the world around you while turning ordinary people into extraordinary idiots.

Looking down at the helpless man, Tyler felt guilt at his own failings that brought him to that same delirious state many times before. He was disgusted by his past while desperate to repeat it—a dichotomy he couldn’t resolve. Guilt, loss, and an overwhelming sense of unfairness drove him to the self destruction of the man below. He was not able to die, but he could bring the flesh close to the precipice. If only I had flesh! He thought sullenly, watching the man continue the long journey without incident.

The man stumbled and fell to the ground motionless, but Tyler held back hopes. He watched the lifeless body, waiting for the tell-tale signs of the spirit leaving the flesh. If he saw it, he would replace that lost spirit with his own Onyalum essence, bringing back life.

Nothing happened.

His frustration peaked as he desperately wanted to kill the little man by squeezing the life out of him! Damn you, die!

Curses had little effect as the man slept off the effects of heavy narcotics. Suddenly he stirred, moving slowly, but deliberately, raising himself unsteadily before lurching down the canyon stumbling left and right once more. With little else to go on, Tyler followed the man helplessly, his resolve to see him die stronger than his unwillingness to wait.

It seemed like days before the man emerged from the cave onto the ridgeline leading back to his village. The cold night air sobered the old man, and his walk held more purpose and less wobbling. Tyler sighed. The man was clearly not going to die tonight. As was so common with drunks, some watchful force kept them safe when they were most vulnerable, and Tyler was well too acquainted with this phenomenon.

He followed the man anyway, curiosity about his role in the community enough to hold interest. He had no idea when he might find the opportunity to take over someone, but he knew the odds of finding another suitable planet were slim. Better to stay with a known quantity than blindly search the Universe.

The old man finally came to the steep, boulder strewn hillside that descended to the immense building stuck between the desert and the mountains. Unsteady on his feet, the man miraculously climbed the dangerous hill, easily clearing boulders while picking his unknown path. Tyler became bored with the descent and left the man to wait outside the building’s entrance.

The enormous doors remained closed as the darkness indicated the place was empty. Although Tyler was certain he could blindly transition inside, he decided to wait for the old man. The night was clear, and with no moon to obscure the sky, stars burned brightly. Tyler ignored their sparkling beauty as they only served to remind him of his body-less existence.

He stared down at the squalid village where a few buildings leaked light through the small windows cut into the front doors. The chimneys glowed red from interior fires providing warmth for the sleeping occupants. Apparently, not everyone slept. He wanted to abandon the old man and search the village but decided to check on the man’s progress.

He transitioned onto the hillside but saw only boulders and dark crevices. Moving farther up, he was certain the man was hiding in one of the dark shadows cast by the large boulders. Nothing.

Okay, little man, where have you gone?

He swept the hillside back and forth, moving higher as he climbed. Still the old man eluded him. Tyler couldn’t believe he’d disappeared so quickly considering his state of intoxication. Had he gone into the hills? Had he gone somewhere else? Maybe he had a hidden entrance to the building—a back door? Perhaps he didn’t live in the building at all but somewhere nearby?

Tyler was confused, but kept searching, unsure why he was so determined. The man was clearly capable of taking care of himself despite the intoxication, so why try to find him? He figured the best move would be to head into the village, and maybe the old man would turn up having slipped past him in the dark.

He was ready to abandon his search when he caught a glimpse of something light against the black of a boulder. As Tyler moved closer, he saw the man’s body lying motionless, wedged between two large rocks. Was the man sleeping off the orgy yet again or did something more serious happen? Considering the man’s position, Tyler assumed he had fallen from the larger, uphill rock onto the smaller one below.

Tyler couldn’t tell if the man was alive or dead, but he noted a pool of blood forming near the head. That was never a good sign and Tyler assumed he had missed his one opportunity to retake the flesh of a dying body.

A flickering light at the base of the hill caught Tyler’s attention and he spotted two torches dancing through the darkness as they made their way up the hillside. Were they looking for the old man, or had they simply been going somewhere anyway? Tyler couldn’t tell, but they moved with purpose and speed.

He wanted a better look, but a dark shadow moving to his left drew his attention from the people. The shadow darted smoothly in and out of the rocks, moving steadily toward the fallen body. Was it a predator, or some sort of scavenger ready to make a meal out of what remained of the little man? Tyler couldn’t tell as it moved in a blur through the scattered boulders. Its speed through the darkness would bring it to the body long before the searchers below.

Tyler was fascinated by the change in events. The torches moved slowly while the dark shape neared the lifeless body. Tyler couldn’t tell how many limbs it had, but the movement made it appear like it ran on all fours. The shape easily cleared the last few boulders and leapt out of the darkness onto the lifeless body.

Tyler was impressed. Its size was three times larger than the old man, and its body was covered in a black fur lying flat against the body except on the crown where it stood straight in a crest. The body was thin and long, carried on four spindly legs that didn’t match the dexterous movements Tyler had observed. The creature was tall as it rested on all fours.

The head was a large oval with cheeks sticking further out of the face than the chin below. Although the mouth was shut, Tyler thought he could see sharp canines protruding from the black lips. Small ears sat upon its head shifting ceaselessly trying to catch the sounds that might indicate threat … or game.

The dancing lights of the searchers caught its attention, and it turned red eyes towards the two people moving through the boulder field. With ears pricked to the distant torch bearers, the creature looked like a large cat ready to pounce. Tyler assumed it would move to intercept the rescuers, favoring fresh meat instead of dead flesh, but it remained, silently watching the lights dance among the rocks.

Finally, it turned to the lifeless body and reached out a large paw. Claws slid out of hidden sheaths and delicately tore open the man’s shirt, exposing a chest without cuts or signs of trauma. Tyler assumed the creature would rip into the soft flesh, engorging itself on an opportune meal, but it moved closer, dropping its head as if to smell the body.

It sniffed from head to toe before turning the old man over and repeating the process. It was an odd activity that Tyler believed was part of some strange eating custom for that species. Maybe the creature wouldn’t eat dead flesh or was simply trying to determine if any life remained. Then again, creatures often wouldn’t eat diseased flesh and might check a body to ensure disease wasn’t the cause of the untimely demise. Either way, Tyler thought the creature unusually cautious.

A part of Tyler waited for the gruesome feast to begin as memories of predatory lives filled his mind. The thrill of the hunt and the satisfaction of a meal was a powerful sensation, and despite turning bored with it after a short period of time, the memory gave Tyler a momentary thrill. But the creature moved off, leaping to the large rock above as the rescuers finally neared the dead body. The creature stood silhouetted against the starry sky as though it wanted to be seen. The torches stopped, as one person pointed to the dark form poised overhead.

Despite the creature’s ominous presence, both searchers moved deliberately toward it, scrambling with their torches as they climbed over the rocky ground. Tyler was mystified. The creature hadn’t eaten the man, and seemed almost compelled to help the searchers locate his lifeless form. What kind of creature would do that? It was both strange and compassionate at the same time.

The searchers reached the fallen man and quickly moved to his aid. They turned the body back over inspecting the wound on his head while searching for other signs of trauma. They removed the shirt and stared in horror at the tears down the front and back. Both looked up the hillside questioningly, but the creature had quietly disappeared into the darkness.

Up close, Tyler saw small breasts underneath the blouse of one of the searchers, and he assumed it was a woman. The other appeared to be male, and both were much younger than the old man they helped. Tyler couldn’t tell what she was doing, but he assumed she was searching for a pulse. She must have found one as she quickly conferred with the man who moved back down the hillside leaving her with the limp body.

Tyler’s luck may have changed, the man wasn’t dead.

* * * *

It took time before the other searcher returned with multiple torch bearers in his wake. Tyler counted five adults and what must have been two adolescent males. Eventually, the group was able to move the old man’s body down to the village and into one of the small igloos. Tyler followed, uncertain whether an opportunity to take the flesh would present itself.

If the man was alive, it was plausible he might yet die considering the deadly gash on his head. The world didn’t appear medically advanced, so a serious wound might prove fatal. However, Tyler hoped it wouldn’t be so fatal that he couldn’t revive it with his Onyalum essence. His spirit was strong, but even it had limits. Still, there was hope.

The old man lay on a small bed within the tight confines of the igloo shaped structure. The building was small with wall hangings partitioning the interior space into separate rooms. The vestibule opened into a main living room with a small kitchen near a fireplace on the right. The rest of the space was separated into two bedrooms and a small washroom in between. It was an efficient use of the cramped confines and created a cozy feeling.

The woman tended the small man who looked more dead than alive, but she dutifully removed bandages every hour, cleaning the wound and replacing it with a fresh covering slathered in a goopy material she’d mixed in a large wooden bowl. Tyler had been on plenty of primitive worlds to know the goop might contain great healing properties. Still, he continued to wait. He wanted this slim chance to experience the pleasures the old man had, and after following him all night, he even felt close to the lifeless body.

People from the village brought food for the rescuers while tending to the old man. Either he was important, or the village was a tight knit community that pulled together in times of crisis. Tyler wondered if they knew what the man had done earlier in the evening. He assumed their hospitality would not be so generous if they’d seen the drug induced orgy the little man had participated in with men and women far younger than himself.

Light crept through the small window in the front door as the exhausted woman continued her ministrations well into the morning. Tyler believed the woman was either the village healer or a close relative of the old man. Whatever the relationship, she put a great deal of effort into his care, and Tyler began to worry she would heal the broken man.

He hovered by the bed, waiting, watching, and hoping for something he could exploit. Like a fiend waiting to take the poor soul to hell, he watched for his only chance to live. He thought back to the cavern bar and the intoxicating spirits the patrons had enjoyed. That was why he remained, because that was what he needed, a chance to lose himself to the euphoric world of narcotics.

Memories of his former life filled him with nostalgic cravings for the never ending parties that had consumed him. He’d supplied the who’s who of Los Angeles and kept parties going with mixes of narcotics only the rich could afford. He’d loved that life, and enjoyed the prestige, even when he’d been ready for change. No one was a better advocate of his products, and as a regular user, he was well versed in the effects, both good and bad. He wanted that life again, to taste the false pleasures of the next high. If not this poor man, then someone—he wouldn’t be denied his escape!

Loss was his mantra. Earth had been taken away, his girlfriend lost, a world destroyed, and worst of all, a child denied. The losses turned him into a demon, unleashing its anger and frustration on the innocence of the Universe. Now, only shame drove him back to the self abuse he’d once known.

Tyler was suddenly alerted as the old man jerked, arching back in spasms of pain. His body fought against the pending death, and Tyler grew excited as the woman pulled off covers to push him down onto the bed. He writhed uncontrollably as she struggled to keep him from falling off, while yelling to the young man in the other room for help.

Both grabbed the flailing body, forcing it down while sweat drenched the underclothes and bedding. Finally, the body arched one last time before falling limp with limbs splayed in all directions. The young couple, tired from their exertions, leaned heavily on the bedside for support while staring silently at each other, the fear of death written on their faces.

Tyler remained close, watching for the telltale signs of a fleeing spirit. The people would never see that ethereal mist, but to an Onyalum, it was like a beacon in the night. The man’s chest no longer moved, and a glowing cloud rose from the body as his soul escaped the confines of the flesh. Tyler moved close, fascinated by the glowing spirit ready to return to the Universal fabric from which it had come. Though beautiful and mysterious, he was ready to replace it and struggle for life in the dying body.

As the mystical soul fled, it flew through the ceiling into the starry night above. On cue, Tyler felt the familiar pull as the body captured his spirit, dragging it into the dying flesh. He felt the darkness of unconsciousness threaten him, but he fought to resuscitate the weakened flesh. Over the years, he’d become attuned to the various constituents of flesh, detecting a body’s damage, and feeding life force back into the failing parts. Although it wasn’t a precise process, he had some success controlling it, bending it to his needs.

He knew the power of the Onyalum spirit was strong, and it often brought back a dead body. But it, too, had limits and couldn’t always provide the essential forces necessary for survival. So Tyler fought. He fought those limits that prevented him from bringing life into the broken flesh as he sought the darkness that clung to the body like a bruise or sore. Using his will, he massaged the damaged area, feeding the needed life force into the flesh in hopes it would be repaired.

He had varying degrees of success while doing this, although it had failed with River Red in those final moments. Still, he held onto the faith he would succeed, and believed one day he could bring back any body from death. Attainable or not, it was a goal, that if achieved, would assure him an immortal life in a mortal body.

He felt a tingling of success as the flesh responded to his efforts. Life force was being restored, and the damaged body was healing, if only enough to survive. Tyler knew his spirit would bring more than just life—it would bring health and vigor beyond the old man’s years. This was the power of the Onyalum over flesh.

He would survive, so Tyler ceased his efforts and succumbed to unconsciousness. He would sleep a long, needed sleep, while dreaming a mixture of his life, the life he’d possessed, and the lives of all those he’d once been. It wasn’t always restful, but it was an escape from the reality he loathed.

Give Us This Day

The sound of a softly played flute interrupted Tyler’s dinner with Emperor Yooso and his old boss, Raul. Although it seemed odd he would be dining with both people from two different worlds, the conversation had turned to maintaining power, and Tyler was fascinated by the approach each man applied to the problem.

But the damned flute wouldn’t stop playing, and since he alone heard the melancholy notes, he excused himself to track down the melody. Was it Thosolan playing with him again? Tyler didn’t believe the Creator would summon him so soon after his previous encounter and he couldn’t remember any flutes that Thosolan could have resurrected from his past.

The music appeared to come from the back of a dark closet in the rear of the kitchen. While the kitchen staff ignored his investigation, he opened the closet door and felt blindly for a light switch. Of course, there wasn’t one. Despite the darkness, he stepped inside as the sound of the flute grew louder yet more distant. The door suddenly closed with a slam, and what little light there’d been disappeared into the darkness.

“Anyone there?” He asked tentatively.

No reply.

The flute played on, and Tyler was mesmerized by its fluid rhythms and soulful sounds. He was not familiar with instruments, except those in most rock bands, but he thought this sounded Native American or Asian.

From the dim recesses of his mind, he vaguely remembered something similar during a family trip to Utah when he was a boy. His family had stopped at a tourist trap specializing in Native American art and music, and although his memories of those past events weren’t strong, he remembered an Indian playing a flute outside the gift shop. The haunting melodies were designed to pull in tourists intent on discovering the strange and exotic sounds.

The music drifting through the darkness was similar, and he wondered if the same Indian was playing it. A strong sense of déjà vu pulled at his mind, and he desperately needed to see who was playing the haunting songs from his childhood memories. But the damned darkness held him firm. He pushed into the back of the closet, surprised there weren’t any walls. Nonetheless, movement was difficult and he struggled to make progress. But he continued to push, fighting as the music became a quest, a mission to rediscover his past, to rediscover Earth.

The sound drew near, and Tyler pushed one last time against the invisible bonds that held him back, finally breaking free of their restraint. In a sudden rush of light and sound, Tyler was freed from the closet and woke on a hard bed staring at a ceiling made from dirt.

It took a moment to clear his head and remember where and who he was.

The old man. He thought lazily. I’m in a village igloo recovering from death.

Although taking other lives was second nature, he held off integrating the man’s memories into his own. He wanted to lie quietly and just listen to the gentle flute playing in the outer room. Tyler assumed it was either the young man or woman who’d found the old man, but Tyler’s position on the bed hid the other rooms from view.

The music was soft and slow with a hint of melancholy that tugged at his soul. Now that he was awake, he vividly recalled the old Indian playing similar music outside the gift shop in Utah. It brought back a flood of memories and emotions, both good and bad, and Tyler nearly cried with remembrance. Although his childhood had never been harsh, it represented the lone part of his life when his family had been an important part of his existence.

After his parents divorced, he’d begun to drift from the family, seeking intimacy through friendships and drugs. He often wondered whether his parents had thought about him after his disappearance. Prior to the accident, he’d not spoken with either for a long time, and they probably assumed he was already dead. Maybe Linda had contacted them after he died. Since he’d left no remains to bury, would they have held a funeral? Would they have mourned him? He doubted it.

The music stopped and Tyler heard someone leaving through the building’s single entrance. All was quiet, and Tyler relished the sensations life provided once more. He could hear and feel, something you took for granted until they were gone. Was his hatred of the Onyalum existence based on the lack of his senses? It was one thing to see, but to see without sound or touch was like being trapped in a silent movie you could neither stop nor interact with. It was the ultimate loneliness, and Tyler feared it with a passion.

He took a deep breath of the sweet air, but the action brought on a fit of coughing, aggravating the damage to his head. The blinding pain almost sent him back into unconsciousness, but he readily stopped the spasms and eased the pounding.

The Onyalum part of his spirit had clearly restored life to the old man, but he realized a long recuperation would still be required before the body was back to its former glory. At least everything felt intact, and only a dull numbness on the left side of the body coincided with the damage to his skull. Apparently the old man had landed on his left side cracking the head while bruising his arms and torso. Considering the old man’s age, Tyler thought it was a miracle he’d revived the body. He relished the pain, it was something he could feel, and it represented life.

He thought about the old man and his position within the village. Considering the age, Tyler assumed the man probably wasn’t a national hero or warrior. For that, Tyler was thankful. He’d had his fill of strong leaders whose existence dictated whether a world, a village, or a people were safe or not.

Fresh memories of his rampage through the Universe resurfaced bringing shame for the senseless destruction he’d caused. The vision of that female warrior filled his mind, and he thought morosely of Linda and Toosia. The incident had jarred him out of the madness, but his pain and guilt would linger for an eternity.

Whoever the old man was, his life was basic and simple. That suited Tyler just fine. He still desired the guilty pleasures he could lose himself in, and the call of that distant cavern with drug induced orgies beckoned to Tyler with a pull that couldn’t wait for the old man’s recovery.

He was tempted to integrate the memories if only to recall one of those frenzied orgies, but he was too tired and weak and decided to wait to acquaint himself with the man he’d become. For now, it was enough to rest and recuperate.

* * * *

When he awoke again, he felt like he’d been sleeping for months, and the dreadful thirst that pasted his mouth seemed to confirm his suspicions. Industrious sounds drifted in from what he believed to be the kitchen, and he sat up in bed to face his new reality. Despite the thirst, he felt far better than the previous time he’d woke to the sounds of the flute.

Without hesitation, he quickly integrated the old man’s memories into his own. The process took time, especially to become acquainted with the person, their language, and the general circumstances of their life. Most of the memories could wait till needed, but the first order of business was to communicate with those around him.

Once the memories were properly integrated, Tyler scanned through them to familiarize himself. The man’s name was Samil, and Tyler was surprised to discover the he was the spiritual leader of the village.

Tyler grinned. Great, I wanted to escape gods and I become a priest! It was ironic, but he’d become accustomed to irony in his new existence. He wondered if the Universe weren’t creating these situations just to see how he’d react. He was, after all, their new toy and they looked forward to his adventures. Hah!

Samil’s village was named Kidium and was one of thousands of similar villages dotting the northern and southern boundaries between the flatlands and the mountains ringing the equator. It was a strange topography for any planet, but Tyler sensed the hand of a Creator. Despite the generous size of the landmass, and the primitive state of its inhabitants, the entire planet believed in the same religion. Tyler was certain he could sift through the memories and piece it all together, but he put off those details to focus on immediate needs.

Samil was a father to one daughter, Sherim, and he lived with her and her husband, Tress, in their small dwelling. Samil was a widower after losing his wife to sickness when Sherim was just a young girl. After that loss, Samil had steadily lost faith, finally succumbing to the powerful addiction of perneem in his later years. Until recently, Samil hid his addiction from everyone in the village except those who’d rescued him so many times before.

Their world was Gamel, named after the god they worshipped. They believed the planet itself was part of their god, and they worshipped it nearly as much as the deity it was named for. A small preview of the religion showed a complex, large institution spanning thousands of generations into the past. He pushed that aside and focused on the old man’s life.

The large building overlooking their village was a place of worship, and only Samil held keys to it. Traditionally, his spiritual role would have been handed down to a son, but the lack of male progeny forced him to take on an apprentice from another family. The young man’s name was Seram, and he was near the age when he would take over as spiritual leader.

It was Seram playing the flute the time before—a healing song taught him by Samil. On this world, only spiritual leaders were permitted to play music, and Samil was well versed in multiple instruments crudely fashioned from natural materials. The thought excited Tyler with the prospect of playing an instrument. He’d never played in a previous life but liked the idea of being a master without rigorous training.

Satisfied he had enough information, he tended to his burning thirst.

“Sherim,” he called into the other room, “I am thirsty.”

He heard her drop what she was doing and quickly come to his aid. She parted the tapestry and entered with a cup of liquid. She helped him up and held the cup firmly so he could drink.

The liquid was warm and tasted odd. It wasn’t water, but refreshing despite the strange flavors. He likened it to something he’d enjoyed on another world, a brew created from a plant root. It was slightly bitter, but had a very sweet, vanilla aftertaste. A quick dip into Samil’s memories identified it as a mixture of herbs and minerals commonly used in healing. His daughter called it Lim Tea, but the ancient recipe was actually called ‘Limserti’, a word from a dead language no longer spoken. Only religious leaders knew this language to read all the ancient documents written in it.

He quickly drained the cup and was left wanting more.

She pulled away, staring deeply into his eyes, concerned for her father’s health.

“That was too close, father,” she said quietly, “we almost lost you this time.” She put the cup on a small bedside table and grabbed his hand in a loving embrace. “Is living with your daughter so bad that you desire to join mother in Jurane?”

Tyler recalled Jurane as their religion’s after-life. It was the equivalent of heaven and was promised throughout all the documents Samil had read. Tyler could clearly see the pain on Sherim’s face. She’d lost her mother when just a girl and now stood to lose her father from the disgrace of an addiction that tore them apart. Sherim was not capable of having children, and losing her father would leave her without any family other than her husband.

Tyler felt guilt for the selfish reasons he’d possessed Samil, but his desire to escape was much stronger than any sense to please this woman. She had, after all, already lost her father, and Tyler was giving her extra time beyond Samil’s allotted life. He stalled the inevitable, but perhaps during this time he could find ways to make the eventual loss less difficult.

“No,” he began, uncertain how to respond, “I merely stumbled on my way home.” It sounded as bad as he felt, especially since she knew of the addiction.

She smiled knowingly, the expression creasing her face with sadness. “Of course—well, you are healing quickly and should be fully recovered in several weeks, if you rest—longer if you insist on resuming your duties.”

She was referring to the rituals and prayers that were a daily part of the community. As their spiritual leader, Samil provided the guidance the village needed to survive in their harsh environment. He agreed spending weeks resting was preferable to spending months ill and debilitated. He thought about the orgies and realized participation in such activities would have to wait until his health improved. No reason to take chances when he had so much time to waste.

“Fine, I’ll have Seram take over for now. He has learned most of the ceremonies and can handle the daily activities without assistance.”

She smiled weakly. “Yes—well, he has already done that and is performing them quite well. Everyone in the village is quite pleased with his progress … or rather, your training.”

“How long have I been out?” Her reaction seemed unusual if it had only been a few days.

“It has been ten days since we found you on the hillside—at one point we were certain we’d lost you. You had stopped breathing, but then the blessings of Gamel filled your chest, restoring life once more. We are very thankful to Gamel, as you should be.”

Her jibe was intended to remind him of his lost faith. He knew she would have preferred Seram taking over completely since Samil had forsaken it years before. Tyler ignored the bait.

“Yes, thanks to Gamel indeed.” He placed his free hand over hers and smiled with what he hoped was a look of gratitude. “Thanks to my daughter, Sherim, whose meticulous care must surely have brought me back from the brink of death.” He leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek, the action releasing a stream of tears from her eyes.

She pulled her hands away and wiped her eyes. “Damn you, father, why must you do this to yourself—do you not understand the pain it causes me?”

“I … I’m sorry, Sherim, I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you will stop this nonsense and seek the help of the God you once believed in!” Her voice rose in desperation, the topic of conversation a sore point.

“I wish I could, Sherim, I wish I could.” Tyler looked away, unable to take the pain on her face.

She made a disgusted sound before leaving, her angry voice trailing off into the kitchen. “I’ll make you something to eat!”

* * * *

Tyler’s recuperation took less time than he’d feared. His powerful spirit feeding life into the old body, bringing an unnatural health and vigor to someone of Samil’s advanced years. Tyler spent much of that time learning more about his ability to sense the physical aspects of the bodies he possessed. He’d was now able to detect what he believed was a cancer inside the old man. With practice and effort, Tyler focused energies on the disease and succeeded in stopping its spread. With continued focus, he even hoped to remove it completely.

He spent hours poring through the religious memories of Samil and was astounded at what he uncovered. Not only did everyone on the planet believe in the same god, they believed that god would one day return to live among them. The historical records were replete with passages that spoke of a god that would visit their world every five thousand years bringing abundance to the poverty they endured during his absence.

Considering what Tyler knew of the Universe, he wondered if this were actually true, or if like Thosolan, their god was too busy creating other worlds to bother with guiding his older creations. According to the scriptures, the time of his arrival was approaching, and Tyler, or rather Samil, was supposed to journey to witness this return as the representative of their village.

Thankfully, the journey to the Holy City of Malane was still months away, but the thought of meeting another god didn’t appeal to him. Regardless of whether the journey ended in a visit with a god, he had plenty of time to immerse himself in the unusual pleasures offered on this strange world.

During his recovery, Samil’s apprentice did a fabulous job with the daily functions required of the spiritual leader. The proper title of the village priest was Pretal, but villagers rarely referred to them with that title. Seram was ready to take over as Pretal, and Tyler looked forward to the freedom that would afford him.

Tyler had to admit, as he got to know Seram, he grew fond of the curious and capable youth. Tyler was pleased to see his progress paved the way for Samil to step into the background. The boy had become a man and was capable of taking over leadership of Kidium. Unfortunately, this did not excuse Tyler from the Holy Pilgrimage to Malane, but at least it removed him from the daily routines.

Tyler was ready to announce his retirement, but before Seram could take the reins, the young man needed to pass the Trial of Gesh by surviving forty days and forty nights in the southern desert with nothing but his faith to sustain him. Memories of Samil’s trial filled Tyler with dread as the old man, young at the time, barely survived his own ordeal. The memories were foggy and Tyler wasn’t certain how the man had survived.

Perhaps it was divine intervention, but nothing in the memories indicated this. They were a hardy species adapted to live in a harsh world where others would probably perish, so perhaps it was nothing more than survival of the fittest. That’s what concerned Tyler. The young man was capable, but Samil’s memories didn’t paint a picture of a rugged youth able to survive in such an inhospitable environment.

Whatever trepidations Seram had, he hid them behind a veil of excitement for his newfound position as spiritual leader. Tyler didn’t question the young man’s faith, but he questioned whether the young man had the intestinal fortitude for such a daunting ordeal. Blazing heat during the days and frigid cold during the nights made even the bravest person shrink into themselves, searching their soul for an escape—or for faith.

Samil’s memories contained countless stories of apprentices that did not survive. For whatever reason, they never returned after forty days and nights, and for the village that sent them out, the process of training another had to begin once more. It was a harsh and unsettling process, but one the villages adhered to religiously.

Seram’s family, though proud of their son, carried doubts and fears about the trial. They knew what was at stake and tried their hardest to fill him with confidence despite their own doubts. Seram was a fine young man, and although Tyler had not trained him, he felt as Samil did, like Seram was a son. He hoped he would survive to free Tyler from the bondage of his position.

Unfortunately, while Seram was gone, Tyler would have to perform the daily rituals. He didn’t relish that responsibility, but was relieved in the knowledge he could travel to the cave and dabble in the non-religious practices. It would sustain him while the youth grappled with faith in the desert.

Tyler pulled a shirt over his head and headed out to meet Seram in the temple. They would discuss the trial and prepare Seram for his journey through prayer and rituals. Thankfully, Tyler could access the whole process through Samil’s memories, but he didn’t like the idea of four hours in prayer. If nothing else, the religion was replete with traditions, ceremonies, and prayers. They were dull to Tyler, but an inner part of him felt it a fitting punishment after the wanton destruction he’d unleashed.

He kissed Sherim and headed up the hillside to the temple overlooking the squalid village. He knew Seram would be preparing for the daily service after his preparations for the trial. The entire village would attend, and fortunately for Samil, Seram was required to perform the entire ceremony as part of his trial. It would be an emotional time for everyone, but Tyler knew it would take all his willpower to remain awake.

He topped the hill near the entrance and scanned the boulder strewn hillside where Samil had fallen. He thought briefly about the strange creature that had visited Samil before death. He later discovered they were called saythers and were mysterious creatures protecting the forests of Gamel. The villages were forbidden to harvest anything from the lush mountains, and anyone who tried either disappeared or was later found dead, a look of horror frozen on their face.

It was said saythers protected the mountains, and killed all who entered. Many believed they were agents for Gamel, and did his bidding during his absence. Although the religion didn’t specifically support this theory, there were many references to the creatures throughout the historic texts. In the old language, they were called ruun dwoers, which translated into the modern language as Forest Watchers. That made sense, but it still didn’t imply they held any additional responsibilities.

The memory of that sayther sent shivers down Tyler’s spine. Considering their size and appearance, he hoped he would never encounter one. Still, it remained a mystery what the creature had been doing with Samil. It had been far from the upland forests, and its interest in Samil was both strange and surreal. There were no records indicating anyone had ever been eaten by a sayther, but then again, for those that never returned from the forest, their fate remained a mystery.

It was an unusual planet with a strange religion, but Tyler believed he could live with it for now. He had valid reasons for staying and he would do his best to survive the other aspects of this life. Memory of the narcotic perneem sent a chill through his body as the addiction gnawed within the now healthy man.

During his recovery, the painful withdrawals had been nearly unbearable. Over a couple weeks, the pain receded, replaced with an emptiness of a dependency that would never go away. Because of Seram’s trial, Tyler had yet to escape to the cavern since his recovery. His mind ached with desire, but he held back until the young man was safely on his way. Soon, Tyler thought, soon.

He pulled the enormous door open and entered the temple with intricate artwork etched into the walls from floor to ceiling. All around, scenes of a distant landscape replaced the desert with flowing rivers and abundant fields. It filled the corridors with hope and desire. Were they real scenes from the planet’s past or a fantasy about a god that would never return? Religion had a way of making people believe anything, especially if it promised paradise in return for selfless suffering.

Tyler walked past the pastoral mosaics and moved into the back of the sanctuary where Seram would be waiting. The main chamber contained pews that held ten times more people than their village possessed. He knew the population had shrunk over the many years as conditions became drier, but most still clung to the belief the temple would one day be filled by the bounty of their god’s return.

Tyler wasn’t certain, but he did know Samil’s daughter was recording the number of successful pregnancies, and over the last few decades, that number had declined rapidly. Those that were able to conceive often lost their child prior to birth. It was a startling and frightening statistic, one held in reserve from the villagers. Though the villagers suspected, their faith would not allow them the luxury of realizing their own circumstance. If babies died unborn, then it must surely be the will of Gamel.

Tyler believed the harsh living conditions were slowly wiping out the people. If that were true, they needed to find some way to survive in case their god didn’t fulfill his promise. Without some change, they were on the brink of extinction.

Tyler opened the door to the zerum, or place where they prepared for the ceremonies. All the ritualistic trappings of the religion were stored in that one room, including the historical scriptures that were an integral part of their services. The room was quite large and extended far beneath the hillside overhead. The room was nearly a perfect rectangle, and Tyler wondered how they’d fashioned the room with the primitive technology he’d seen so far. In fact, the architecture and construction of the entire temple clashed with the simplistic dirt huts they lived in.

The religion forbade new technology as the holy texts taught them to “… build only what you need, take only what you need, and let God take care of the rest.” Tyler thought it cryptic and overbearing, especially in light of their current predicament. Despite this, the people held onto the belief that they mustn’t do anything that would bring down the wrath of their god. It squelched all creativity and innovation.

A small light to the left indicated Seram was dressing in the ceremonial robes as part of the trial he would undertake. Tyler moved to help him and to prepare himself. He hated the large, hot robes that were part of the ceremonies, but considering how little the villagers possessed, he wasn’t going to deny them their religion—it was the only thing that kept them going.

“Ah, Seram, I see you are eager to begin your journey!”

The young man fiddled with a piece of the clothing that was apparently new to him. Tyler recognized it as the strap that went around the shoulder and neck to hold the sacred texts he was to carry with him into the desert.

“Here,” he offered quickly, “let me help you with that.”

“Thank you, Samil, I guess I am too nervous to see how this works.”

Tyler noted a hint of unease in Seram’s voice. A quick jump into Samil’s memories surfaced downright fear when Samil had prepared for his trial. It was an uncertain time, and faith was all that would carry you through. Tyler sincerely felt for the youth.

“Nonsense,” Tyler tried to calm him, “you just haven’t used it before.” He finished tying the sash around properly and stood back to look at the young man in his finery. “Seram, I am very proud of you and know you will do fine. Look to your faith and believe in your abilities to come through the trial unscathed.”

Tyler hoped he sounded convincing, because Samil hadn’t come back unscathed. Although he healed rapidly, he was forever changed by the experience. Perhaps here was the real root of Samil’s addictions, a painful experience suppressed in memories. Tyler knew less serious reasons for turning to drugs.

“Thank you, Samil,” the young man responded with a smile, “you have trained me well. I am prepared.”

“Good, then let us finish dressing and begin the ceremony.”

Seram helped Tyler don his robes as Tyler’s side still stung from Samil’s fall. The boy was helpful and Tyler imagined he would have wanted a son just like him. He thought back to his son on Poolto and wondered what had become of him. Politics probably, it was in the family genes.

* * * *

The villagers finally arrived for Seram’s ceremony. They were scattered throughout the first few pews, whispering quietly to each other while waiting for Seram to begin. As dictated by custom, Seram hung back in the Zerum going through scripted prayers. Tyler left him to his prayers and welcomed the villagers into the service.

Once everyone was seated, Tyler took a seat in the back pew far from the villagers. It was better to observe, or sleep as might be the case. He watched several children running between the rows, playing a game of chase. The parents were attempting to stop the horseplay, but the children were too fast to be caught. Tyler smiled at the brash young boys, too young to understand their world and the problems it faced. One day their wonder and playfulness would be replaced with the burdens their parents carried.

Oh, to be young again …

The thought brought back memories of the Indian playing his flute, and Tyler longed for the innocence he could barely remember. Had he once played like those two boys? Was there ever a time when the pleasure of a simple romp was sufficient to make your day? Tyler felt certain there had been, but the memory eluded him.

Seram finally entered through the side wings and marched slowly to the podium. Everyone grew quiet, even the two boys who’d been chasing each other. It was a solemn time, and everyone in the village understood the dangers the young man would face. Tyler sat up and listened carefully as Seram opened with the proper prayer.

Seram began his service by telling the story of Gesh. As he began the tale, Samil’s memories brought the story to life within Tyler’s mind. It sounded like many other fairy tales, but he was still fascinated considering the impact it had on this world. Samil’s memory of the story unfolded in lock step with Seram’s.

Long ago, when Gamel had lived among his people, their world enjoyed a life of abundance within his love. No one knew pain, hunger, or suffering on their placid world. Food was so abundant you had only to walk out of your house to find something to eat. With this great abundance came complacency and sloth.

Slowly at first, but steadily afterward, the religious customs were ignored or skipped as people spent their time indulging every whim. Sex, slovenly behavior, and substance abuse became the norm, and the holy temples grew empty as people no longer saw the need to worship their God.

Gamel grew angry with his people’s behavior and lack of worship. He saw their sloth as an affront to the bounty he provided. He spoke with the leaders of each kingdom, the Pretarchs, but they pleaded with him that the people were simply happy with his bounty and felt compelled to enjoy his generosity.

Their excuses calmed Gamel, at first, but eventually his heart hardened as rumors of strange new religions surfaced across the world. Those cities far removed from the Holy City of Malane began to question their God’s existence. Again, the Pretarchs calmed Gamel by sending missionaries among the people to renew the message of their God and his love.

But soon after, word came back that those missionaries either abandoned their mission in favor of self indulgence, or were killed by the people they were sent to convert. This drew the ire of Gamel, and he told his leaders during their annual celebration in the Holy City that he would cast them all from his love and let them perish in the harshness of a world they’d been protected from. Even among his followers, Gamel heard of corruption and decadence within the Holy City. It was more than his heart could bear, and he readied his wrath.

During the holy celebration of Madeer, he gathered his leaders together in the great coliseum. Every religious leader around the planet traveled to Malane to hear their God speak. But to Gamel’s shock, fewer than half the Pretarchs, Pretares, and Pretals appeared. His heart sank with sadness and anger as his creations spurned his love in favor of their own indulgences.

He spoke to the few in attendance asking for just one believer who would be willing to give their life to prove to him their world was worth saving. Murmurs ran through the crowd, but no one was willing to forego their wealth and power. They, too, had become accustomed to a posh lifestyle and didn’t want to forsake it for their God. No one believed Gamel would really destroy his own creation simply because they didn’t worship him as before.

Gamel called out one last time into the silent crowd, and a lone, small voice called back.

“I will forego my life, my Lord, if that is what it will take to appease you.”

Gamel, surprised by the young boy, stared at the brave believer that walked through the hushed crowd. With innocence and deference, the young boy walked towards his God, and perhaps his death. His name was Gesh and he was the apprentice of his Pretal father, Gereel. His father, too stunned by the boy’s audacity, shrunk back from the God that had sustained him and the son he had raised.

Gamel looked down at the small boy who knelt before him, head bowed in deference to his Creator. “Who are you?” Gamel asked.

“I am called Gesh, my Lord, and all my life I have wanted nothing more than to serve you.”

“Rise, Gesh, that I may see your face and look into the eyes of he who shall sacrifice his life to save those of his people.”

The young man rose to his feet and stared into the eyes of Gamel, unafraid, and unabashed.

“You are a brave young man, Gesh, but is your faith in your Lord true and honest, or do you hope to gain from your brashness?”

The young man didn’t flinch at the accusation. “My faith in you is honest, my Lord—test me, if you wish.”

Gamel thought about the boy’s challenge. If one child had faith in their God, then Gamel would save the world and use that child to rebuild his church. He thought of a test that would truly see if faith guided the young boy.

“I will test you, young Gesh, and if you survive, I will spare this world my wrath, and make you the Grand Pretarch of my new church.”

The crowd couldn’t believe what their God was saying. The planet, their lives, and their comforts were being judged and held in the balance by the faith of one young boy. They screamed to their God in outrage, pointing out the unfairness of his decree. Surely if they simply held more ceremonies and brought the people back into the temples that would suffice. Why must the actions of a boy be the only way back into their God’s heart?

Their pleas fell on deaf ears, and Gamel quieted their screams with a plague of silence. This caused palpable fear in the young Gesh, and he bowed once more before the God whose wrath he had temporarily restrained.

“Rise, young Gesh, that I may tell you of your trial.”

Gesh rose before his Lord and took a large copy of scriptures from his God.

“Gesh, if your faith in me is truly genuine, then you must travel into the desert with no food, water, or company for forty days and forty nights. Only my book of prayers and scriptures must sustain you. Read from them, and I will keep you alive. Ignore your faith, and read not from them, and you shall perish with this world.”

“But, my Lord, where will I find this desert?”

“Travel south from Malane, and there at the base of the mountains you shall find a desert. Follow that desert south for twenty days, then turn around and return the same way you traveled.”

Gesh was young and not well traveled, but he knew of no desert south of Malane. According to his teachings, a great city lay perched against the mountains south of Malane. It was called Perneer, and boasted the greatest civilization ever constructed.

“My Lord, I am not aware of a desert to the south of your city. Will it be hard to find?”

“No. Travel to the decadent city of Perneer and you shall find your desert. Take help from no one, speak to no one, and rely only on your faith to survive. I will be watching.”

Gesh bowed, thanking his Lord for the chance to save his world. Hefting the scriptures over his shoulder, he walked out of the Holy City towards Perneer.

Travel out of the mountains was quick and easy, and Gesh looked forward to a hearty meal and drink in Perneer before starting his journey into the desert. As he came out of the foothills and onto a plain of dry, barren dirt, the grand city of Perneer, its high walls and towers visible across the dusty landscape, looked as barren as the landscape he crossed. A chill ran through the young man as he understood the true power of his God’s will.

The city was dead. Dried corpses littered the town’s courtyards, streets, and buildings while a dry, ruddy dust covered everything in a blanket of death. Even the famous hanging baskets that once held the flowering treasures of this planet hung empty, dried strings of dead plants the only evidence of their former beauty.

Gesh walked quickly through the desert tomb, his scriptures open, reading and praying as he headed into the deep desert his Lord had created just for him. For twenty days and twenty nights he walked, foregoing food, drink and sleep as he prayed and read from the Holy Book of his God.

Days were hot and dry, while the nights were dark and cold, but Gesh kept walking, amazed he’d not fallen to the misery of the hostile landscape. He held onto his faith, he believed his Lord would sustain him, and as he finally stopped at the end of the twentieth day, Gamel spoke to him. “Sleep, young Gesh, your faith has earned you that luxury, but tomorrow you must turn around and continue your journey. This time, I will not sustain you, and your body will rebel. Have faith that I will not let you die, even as you suffer. Do not stop, no matter how hungry or thirsty you become, or how tired you feel.”

Gesh slept as his Lord instructed, and dreamt of a world where desert covered most of the planet. In his dream, his Lord promised he would return someday, but that they would have to survive without him for five thousand years. Gesh humbly accepted this dream, and promised his Lord he would keep the faith in his absence.

When he woke the next morning, the sun bore down with an oppressive heat like Gesh had never felt before. Hunger ate at his belly and dust consumed his mouth. Still, his faith did not waver as he opened his scriptures and headed back toward the dead city of Perneer.

For twenty days and twenty nights, Gesh stumbled and crawled his way towards the start of the desert. Often he drifted into unconsciousness, only his faith pulling him back, urging him to obey what his Lord commanded.

During the last eight days of his journey, he came upon mirages of water and food offered by ruun dwoers who brought him the bounties of the mountain forests. They tempted him with food and drink, urging him to forget his God and take care of his needs.

But Gesh’s faith was strong and he moved past these temptations, delirious as his body began to fail, wasting away in the dry desert atmosphere. On the fortieth day, Gesh could barely pull himself through the dirt. His clothing barely clung to what was left of his body, and as he looked up from the ground staring at the rising towers of Perneer in the distance, he laughed at the distant mirage that taunted him with relief.

He rolled onto his back and looked into the heavens, searching for the God that he believed would save him.

“Gamel, my Lord, I know the end is not yet near and the distant visage is yet another temptation to fool me into disobeying your commands. But I will not succumb, I will continue, for I believe in you, my Lord, and I know your love will sustain me through this ordeal, making me a better man in the end.”

Gamel looked down at the broken boy and felt pity, for Gesh had lost track of time and was indeed at the end of his journey.

Gesh struggled to his feet, and barely able to stand, marched towards the distant mirage. His progress was slow in the searing heat, and near the end, he crawled through the deadly cold of night. Not realizing the city was real, Gesh pushed to the edge of its outer walls before collapsing in death, his body finally unable to withstand the brutal punishment.

Gamel was so touched by the young man’s faith, he restored life into his body and placed him on a warm bed of clean linens within Perneer. The young man woke to the sounds of birds outside an open window, and though he was weak and tired, the sunlight coming through window was welcome instead of harsh and searing. He struggled to open his eyes, but the burning in the desert left only slits to see through.

Across the room, he saw his Lord, Gamel, looking down at him with concern and caring. Softness replaced the harsh look his God had worn in the coliseum.

“You have done well, my son, and I shall uphold my pledge by sparing this world.”

“Thank you, Lord, your love and benevolence is not deserved. We have strayed from your love and found refuge in the sins of our flesh. I have forsaken my flesh and your spirit has freed me from its bondage.”

“Go, my son, my church is yours, teach them what you have learned from this trial, and show them how they, too, can release themselves from their bondage.”

Tyler ran through the rest of the story just as Seram finished on the podium. Gesh became the Grand Pretarch and established the modern day church, its customs, ceremonies, and trials. Gamel left the world soon after, and with him, his abundance. Most of the world became desert while the lush mountains became off limits.

Now the planet only sustained itself from the flour ground from the hard nuts found in the hostile plant life that grew sparingly in the barren landscape. Whatever else they could scrounge, they could eat or drink. It was a lowly and difficult subsistence, but they survived, their faith carrying them onward, just as it had Gesh.

Tyler watched as Seram finished the ceremony with a long prayer before releasing the villagers to their homes. The last of his preparations must be done alone before heading into the desert to test his faith.

* * * *

It had been several days after Seram left, and although Tyler cared about the boy, he knew Seram would have to face his fate alone. During those days, Tyler spent time performing various rituals intended to help Seram keep his faith during the trial. To Tyler, the rituals prevented him from attaining his own desires. Each day that passed, his body ached for the perneem, but the duties kept him from journeying to the cave and the comfort of intoxication.

Finally, Tyler finished the last of the ritual ceremonies and released the now somber and apprehensive villagers to contemplate the fate of their new leader. Tyler, like Seram, was now on his own and he intended to use it to his advantage.

He ushered the last of the people out of the temple, pleading with them to return to their homes, maintain their faith, and keep Seram in their prayers. He turned back toward the temple, but caught a glimpse of Sherim standing at the top of the path. The look on her face told Tyler she knew what he was planning, and the thought of it was tearing her up.

Tyler waved casually as though nothing were wrong and slid into the temple darkness, glancing back as she turned toward the village and disappeared down the path. Her concern tugged at Tyler, but his need for pleasure was stronger than the bonds of a woman he’d just met.

There were plenty of fatherly thoughts from Samil that flooded Tyler’s awareness, but his resolve to pursue the powerful narcotic brushed them all aside. He locked the temple doors and headed around the large boulders to start his ascent up the hillside. Despite a slight twinge in his side, Samil’s body deftly scrambled up the boulder field and onto the main ridgeline. As Tyler passed the rock where Samil had fallen, he turned back to see the dark stain left on the ruddy brown stone. Tough luck, buddy!

Visions of the sayther filled Tyler’s mind and he peered nervously around the boulder field half expecting one to jump out of a blind crevice. He knew the thoughts were irrational—no one on the plains had ever been attacked. Still, the creatures were mysterious, and you couldn’t predict the behavior of a wild animal, god ordained or not. But, if they only protected the forests, then Tyler was at least far from those.

The journey felt shorter than he remembered, but the awesome sight of the glowing caverns was more intense. He was amazed how Samil’s body practically walked on its own—each step memorized from years of travel. It made Tyler wonder how much of the perneem addiction was physical and how much was simply acclimation to a constant routine.

He didn’t care. As he took each step closer, he felt the cravings grow stronger, consuming him with the desire to partake in the decadent festivities. His mind became overrun with thoughts of abandoning the village, staying in the hills, and losing himself to the drug. He’d often dipped into Samil’s memories of perneem, but nothing tangible came from it. He didn’t really know what the effects were, but he knew he had to experience them.

Why must he continue the charade in the village when something far better awaited him in the hills? They had Seram, assuming he survived, what more did they want from Samil? Could he stay in the hills forever? He didn’t think his position would hold much sway with those in the cavern if he abandoned his village. His position as spiritual leader of the community bought him the perneem and luxuries he enjoyed.

As the powerful desire pulled him onward, he found he had to fight against a desire to run towards the cave. His injured side ached from the journey, and despite the power of his Onyalum spirit, Samil was not a young man. He slowed his walk, conserving his strength for the experience he would soon enjoy.

He walked silently down the empty canyon, the walls lit by the sun high overhead. Coming so early, he felt certain he could make it home before too late. He finally spotted the entrance ahead, but saw no one tending the dead fire out front. Tyler hoped it was open, but Samil’s memories assured him they never closed.

His mind raced at the possibilities this new drug could offer him. He knew from Samil’s memories that the narcotic was powerful, but the memories of its effects were hidden behind a veil created by the drug. He thought back to the various narcotics he’d dealt with on Earth and wondered what drug perneem was most similar to? It had to be something strong, something even Tyler might never have experienced.

Heroin? Opium? These were some of the most powerful narcotics Earth could offer, and Tyler had only smoked opium a couple of times. The market for those drugs were small compared to cocaine, and Tyler dealt mainly in the white powder and its varied forms. Pills, marijuana, and designer drugs made up the rest of his stock, but none of those were powerful narcotics on their own. Deadly, yes, but if you wanted the powerful effects, you had to mix and match your drugs to create new highs—and often new lows. Tyler had it down to a science, and he yearned for those days when he’d had power, prestige, and drugs.

Could you overdose on perneem? Nothing in Samil’s memories indicated one way or another, but Tyler felt certain his Onyalum spirit would prevent that from happening. The thrill of anticipation made Tyler hurry down the rest of the canyon as he ignored the pain in his side.

He stopped in front of the entrance, silently staring at the dark hole carved out of solid rock. His heart beat rapidly as he finally reached the only reason for being on Gamel. Would he like it? Would he have sex? Would they let him? Reason no longer ruled as the power of the unknown drug led him through the dark hole and into the cavern of sin.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dark interior, but as it came into focus he readily recognized it from memory. The walls glowed with the faint light of the lichen while small glowing globes filled the chamber with more light than seemed possible for such a primitive world.

Since becoming Samil, Tyler had learned the glowing globes were actually a light created from mixing two different substances together in proper quantities. The resulting reaction released a near constant light for up to several days before the reaction completed. It was the first sign of technology Tyler had seen on this world, and he understood why no one in the village used them.

Everything about this cavern went against the religious teachings. He thought about Gesh and the sinful city of Perneer, and suddenly realized perneem must have been derived from the name of that ancient city. It was as if the denizens of this cavern wanted to flaunt their disbelief in Gamel and his religion. They lived for the pleasures of the flesh and found their freedom from the inside of a pipe or bottle. Tyler felt at home.

A few customers sat quietly drinking while the working ladies sat against the back wall talking quietly, drinking, and preparing for the evening’s activities. They all turned to see who’d entered and several waved to Tyler, perhaps surprised at the return of their most renowned client. Tyler waved back with a smile and hurried to the distant hallway, wanting to make his way into the pleasure room he’d seen before.

One of the younger ladies separated from the others and made her way to Tyler’s side as he entered the long corridor. Samil’s memories recalled her as Joriss, a regular partner with Samil. Tyler remembered her as the young naked woman dancing to the hypnotic music that only she could hear.

She was from a village far to the West, but had been banished when her desires led to a sinful relationship with the Pretal’s apprentice. She’d truly loved the young man, and her sexual desires stemmed from that love.

Unfortunately, after he’d failed to return from his Trial of Gesh, the Pretal revealed her love for his son to the villagers. Angry at the loss, he blamed her publicly for his son’s death in the desert. The villagers turned on her, banishing her from the village. She’d denied them their new leader, so they would deny her a home and family.

Alone, and saddened by the loss of her love, she’d had no where to go and wandered the foothills until Samil had found her near death. Samil took pity on the young woman, bringing her to the cavern, making sure she was cared for. For a while, he had thought of her like a daughter, but after she succumbed to the pleasures of perneem, their relationship turned into a sexual frenzy neither understood nor wanted to end.

“Hello, Samil,” she grabbed his arm, pulling him close, “I wondered what had happened to you. I was getting concerned.”

She actually looked concerned, and Tyler felt an immediate bond driven by Samil’s memories. The feel of her next to him stirred something inside, and the ache for perneem doubled the desires he felt.

“I have been … busy.” He stuttered absently, his gaze taking in her beautiful features. He’d only been Samil for a short while but already felt an affinity for the people whose strange appearance was squat and unattractive by Earth standards. When in Rome …

She pulled him into the corridor, her own desires apparently exceeding his own. “Busy doing what?” She pouted. “I have missed you—and need you.”

Tyler needed her as well. It had been too long without sexual intimacy, and Tyler felt a longing like never before. Already a rise beneath his clothing signaled his body was responding to the young woman’s scent and touch.

She glanced down at the obvious bulge and smiled. “I guess you missed me, too.” She giggled and pulled him faster toward the distant room and its hidden pleasures.

Tyler noticed the burly guards no longer protected the inner sanctum as they passed through the curtains blocking the entrance. He supposed it was too early to need to keep drunken desires at bay.

The room was like Tyler remembered, but no one was inside. The smoke that normally filled the room with a blue haze was gone, and with the increased clarity, Tyler could see intricate details adorning the walls. They were artistic murals and reminded Tyler of the scenes depicted on the walls of the temple.

Joriss released his arm and ran to the carved out nook in the wall. It was where Samil had inhaled the strange mixture, sending him into a euphoric state of sexual depravity. Joriss launched herself into the cubby hole, quickly grabbing the pipe and the potent concoction.

“I can’t wait to be with you, Samil, it has been too long and I want you all to myself.” She busily placed the contents into the pipe, shaking much of it loose in her haste.

Tyler moved towards her, noting the intricate scenes surrounding the small bed. They depicted a beautiful city with soaring towers and high white walls adorned with hanging baskets of flowers. It was a breathtaking sight considering the harsh landscape currently covering the planet. Tyler thought it looked like a representation of the lost city of Perneer. A voice cut through his thoughts, as though reading them.

“I have been there, you know?”

He turned to the low, sultry voice of the woman who ran everything within the cavern. She was called the Vereen, and from Samil’s memories, it translated loosely into Priestess. She was a believer in an old religion started in Perneer before Gamel destroyed it. They believed a person’s soul was lifted to a higher consciousness during drug induced orgies, and that Gamel was jealous they had discovered something only he possessed. Because of this, he had destroyed their city.

Despite the destruction of Perneer, the cult persisted and spread across the planet. Everywhere there were people, the cult opened caverns like this one, seducing the village men and women by offering sexual pleasures, drugs, alcohol, and an escape from the harshness of their world.

She walked slowly towards Tyler, gesturing at the beautiful scenes on the wall. “It is all that is left of our great city. I have been there and seen the ruins. They stand as a testament to my people’s will to fight a god that oppresses us.”

She moved past Tyler, a hand silkily sliding up his back sending a shiver of excitement through his groin.

“Your god, Samil.” She said it without malice.

Tyler was stunned by her beauty. He didn’t remember her as she appeared now, and a strong desire pulled him towards her, a power he didn’t understand.

“I … I don’t believe in that god … anymore.” He found it difficult to talk, and the bulge that had been starting beneath his clothing grew hard as he stared at the vision in front of him. Was she really this fantastic or was there something else going on? He hadn’t even smoked the perneem yet.

The priestess stared at his bulging clothes with a smug smile. “I know you don’t believe in him, Samil, you believe in me now.”

“I am sorry, great Vereen,” Joriss bowed deeply before her guardian and caregiver, “I only wanted to enjoy Samil again, I didn’t mean to intrude on your space without your permission.”

“Oh, yes, you did,” the priestess smiled at the young woman knowingly, “but I will forgive you if you will share him with me.” She cast a smile at Tyler and his hardness began to throb painfully.

“Of course, great Vereen, what is mine is yours.”

Joriss handed the priestess the pipe and slid out of the woman’s bed to stand beside Tyler. She looked excited at the prospects of sharing Tyler with her priestess, but Tyler felt trepidation despite his body’s obvious excitement. He hadn’t liked how she had said “you believe in me”, and warning bells rang in his head.

She was a true vision and Tyler’s heart beat rapidly at the prospects of carnal knowledge with her. Was that all she wanted? It seemed so trivial for someone in such an ancient religion. Samil’s memories didn’t hold anything but positive memories of this woman, but something about her troubled him.

The priestess led them to the upper part of the room covered in soft furs and pillows. Each removed their clothing and sat upon the largest fur in a circle. Tyler’s obvious excitement stood out in stark contrast to the two women. He stared at each, a longing desire consuming his earlier trepidations. Their curves and bosoms called to Tyler, and he wanted nothing more than to lie between them letting his engorged body enter their warmth.

The priestess lit the pipe, inhaling deeply from its dark, acrid smoke. She passed it to Joriss who quickly followed suit nearly dumping the contents in the process. Finally, the pipe came to Tyler and he stared at it blankly, the moment he’d been waiting for finally arrived. What would it be like? Where would it take him? Sexual bliss he hoped.

He hit hard, a warm, almost burning sensation filling his chest. As quickly as the burning started, it turned to a numbing warmth of pleasure. The immediate effect was physical and Tyler waited patiently for his mind to catch up with his body.

They passed the pipe twice more before the priestess placed it on the floor out of the way. She lay on the fur and ran her hand gently along her body in a sensuous display of sexuality. Joriss followed suit and Tyler wondered if both were feeling the effects in their mind.

Despite a ravenous sexual hunger that gripped his body, Tyler felt no high and began to worry that it would have no effect on his Onyalum enhanced body. He remembered feeling drunk on Poolto, so why not perneem?

The women continued their sensual movements and Tyler grew excited as their bodies responded with swollen breasts and obvious moisture. Unable to control his own body, he felt the moisture that preceded the pleasure. Why wasn’t the drug working? He began to worry, wanting this experience more than anything but feeling like it was not going to happen. Already the tension from his concerns caused his body to recede slightly, desire replaced with fear.

In response, the two women moved next to him, each wrapping themselves around his upper body, hands stroking all over. The feeling was sensuous and he grew once again in response. As he succumbed to their ministrations, he slowly became aware of the room turning a reddish color. It was as if the air were filled with a red smoke from some hidden source.

The reddish hue grew more intense as the walls around him began to undulate in response to the rhythm of the women’s movements. In and out they pulsed, up and down, hypnotically sending him deeper into the pleasure he felt from their touch. He felt enormous and wondered how the women would fit him. Couldn’t they see the largess he now provided?

As if sensing his thoughts, they both grabbed him and rubbed up and down his length, each time sending a pulse of pleasure through his body. He pulsed and moved to the movements around him, caught in a current of pleasure he wanted to ride forever.

His hands reached blindly into the air, searching for the pleasure their bodies would provide. Each hand found a squirming woman, and he plunged deep inside, sending waves of pleasure through their bodies. He was lost in the experience, the world of Gamel drifting farther and farther away.

He watched mesmerized as the two women bent their mouths to him, beckoning with the pleasure of their lips. He arched back in ecstasy beyond that of a mere mortal. He swam through the currents, relishing the peaks and valleys of the waves that coursed through them.

Somewhere during the experience the two women turned into visions of Linda and Toosia, doubling the experience with the pleasure of his lost loves. He made love to them over and over again, the pleasure becoming pain as they could not slow the frenetic pace. Each time he exploded into them, they arched with a pleasure Linda or Toosia had never known. If only they would stay like this forever, stay with him forever. He missed them so much and loved them more than life itself.

He released his essence one last time and with tears streaming down his face, fell to the floor embracing his lost loves as though he’d never let go. He screamed into the darkness. “I will never lose you again—never!”

* * * *

Tyler struggled to open his eyes. He lay on something thick and soft, but his head swam lazily with a dull pain. He felt as if he was recovering from a concussion and couldn’t remember where he was or what he’d been doing.

In the foggy recesses of his mind, pictures of Toosia swam past, and his heart leapt at the prospects of seeing her yet again. But something was different. Toosia was gone, left behind on Poolto with Tyler’s son. After so long, she must surely be dead.

He struggled to make sense of the confusion and within minutes, recovered his true bearings. He was Samil and this wasn’t Poolto. He blinked rapidly in the dim glow as he felt a naked body lying next to him. Although he couldn’t explain it, he suddenly felt repulsed by the squat figure sleeping silently.

It was Joriss, and the sexual frenzy they’d shared came rushing back, filling Tyler with both regret and happiness as he replayed the fantastical effects of the perneem. Both the Vereen and Joriss had changed into Linda and Toosia, and he yearned once more for the deluded state of consciousness. Even the thought of his lost loves urged his body to take action as he craved another taste of that experience.

Was that the power of perneem? Did it bring your fantasies to life? What had it brought Samil? Had he seen his dead wife under its influence, or was his fantasy something different entirely? Tyler would never know, the drug’s effects were too strong for Samil to retain the memories of the experience. Only the special strength of his Onyalum memory made him capable of vivid recall. And with that recall, he was beckoned back to relive past loves and lose himself in the sexual pleasures and desires of those lost times.

He shuddered from the power of the drug—clearly this was something he would never escape. Was this the power the priestess held over her patrons, the power of sexual fantasy? Tyler remembered people on Earth who were utterly controlled by their sexual desires, and although their behavior was deviant, they were classic examples of the power the body had over the mind.

Tyler couldn’t remember sex being such a powerful force in his life, but after the experience with the perneem, he felt certain it soon would be. The memory of it plagued him with visions of Linda arching back in ecstasy as he filled her over and over again. His own body convulsed slightly with the memory, and a dull, nauseating ache gripped his stomach.

He knew the ache was serious hunger, and he wondered how long he’d been out.

“Welcome back, Samil.” The smooth voice called through the dim light.

Tyler followed the sound to the private alcove of the Vereen. Uncharacteristically, she wore a flowing robe of multi-colored fabric. On its exterior, Tyler could make out symbols and lettering that he noted were in the ancient language only the priests of this world could read. He wondered if she could read it.

“Good day.” Tyler responded slowly, unsure what time of the day it really was.

The Vereen slid out of her alcove and walked over to one of the globes on the wall. She poured liquid from a nearby container into the globe that instantly filled the room with light.

“In fact, it is currently night.” She said it casually as she returned to her alcove. “You have been asleep for over a day—well, you and Joriss.”

Tyler couldn’t believe what he was hearing. A day? He couldn’t ever remember sleeping that long except when recovering from extreme injuries. His side ached as a reminder of the deadly fall that killed Samil. How dangerous was this drug? A deep chill swept through his body but was quickly replaced with sensual visions of Linda, Toosia, or both.

“And you?” Tyler asked wondering if she were also affected as deeply.

The Vereen gave Tyler a cool look. “I have more tolerance for its effects, and have been awake for much of that time.” She stared deeply at Tyler. “So I thought did you—but I guess your time away has decreased your ability to tolerate its grip.”

He didn’t like the connotation of grip, but knew it was an accurate portrayal of the power of this drug. Was the Vereen under its grip? Was she addicted or did she have a way to counteract it? What would the addiction do to you over time? Tyler thought she looked extraordinarily healthy considering her age was nearer to Samil’s than Joriss’s.

“Yes,” he muttered noncommittally, “I guess so.”

He grabbed what clothing he could find and began dressing. In the sober light of the day after, he was no longer comfortable and longed for daylight. Too bad it was night. At least the fresh air would help ease his pounding head.

The Vereen continued to stare at him, as though trying to pierce something inside. “You are different, Samil, …” she let that hang as though waiting for a response. Tyler ignored the implied question and continued to dress. “You were like a man … possessed is the word I am looking for.”

Tyler almost froze at the mention of possession. Memories of the Emperor and Regent Sneerd came back to haunt him. Was the Vereen an Onyalum? Were Onyalum something she even knew about? What other demons existed to possess someone? He felt compelled to respond.

“What do you mean?” He asked casually. “I don’t feel any different than any other time.”

“Hmmm …” she hummed thoughtfully, apparently unconvinced by his casual attitude. “It felt different to me.”

“I hope in a good way,” he said quickly, “I truly enjoyed the experience.” He had enjoyed it despite the ill feelings in its aftermath.

“Interesting,” the Vereen said in an accusatory tone, “because the Samil I knew would never admit that. The Samil I knew was always embarrassed and ashamed.”

Tyler didn’t like where this was going and was desperate to leave.

“People change, I guess.” He said it with a casual tone. Inside, he was churning at the implications of her comments.

She looked dubious, but Tyler saw she decided to let it pass. “I suppose they do.” She swung her feet out of the alcove and dropped to the floor gracefully. She moved towards him in a sensuous way that aroused him once again.

Tyler looked away, finding the last piece of his clothing for his trip home. How would his village and Samil’s daughter react to his prolonged absence? The guilt ate at him once more as he thought about Samil’s daughter and the pain he caused.

He stood up to find the Vereen blocking his exit. She stood much too close, and her beauty stirred powerful cravings.

“You were wonderful, Samil, that much is certain. Whatever your change—I approve.” She wrapped her arms around him and he felt his knees begin to melt in her embrace. What power did this woman have? Was this all the drug or did she possess some magic? He was both confused and locked in indecision as his body began to respond to her touch.

“I … uh … uh, have to go.” He said it without force as her touch continued to arouse him with promises of the sexual intimacy he’d already enjoyed. Pictures of Linda and Toosia filled his mind, and he longed to touch them, to feel them, and be with them.

“Fine,” her voice was sultry and seductive in his ear, “but someone else seems to think otherwise.” As she said it her hands rubbed up against his cloak, sending pleasure waves through his body. “But before you go …” she held him in her hand, her grip pulsing slightly, “perhaps you’ll tell me who Toosia is?”

The mention of her name woke Tyler from the hypnotic trance. How did she know that name? Had he said it to her? Fear began to grip him and his body reacted by growing limp in her hands.

The Vereen stepped back and surveyed his face. “I see that name means something to you. Whatever could it mean, Samil?”

Unsure how to react, he quickly pushed past her and headed to the door. “It means nothing, Vereen … nothing.”

His mind raced wildly as he sped through the corridors to reach the entrance and escape. Surely he’d said their names during the orgy, how else could she know? His memories of Toosia and Linda were clear, but he couldn’t remember anything that he had said. Could the Vereen read minds? Did the drug make some people telepathic? Was she controlling the fantasies or was it the narcotic? Paranoia gripped him as he hurried to put distance between him and the cavern.

He feared what it would mean if it were true. She’d be able to see his memories and discover he was a fraud—an alien pretending to be Samil.

As he neared the noisy bar, he dreaded the long, dark voyage home. Suddenly he didn’t feel like being alone—alone to ponder the awful reality if she knew his true identity. He thought about Emperor Yooso and the Onyalum that had possessed him. After being discovered, that Onyalum had destroyed the world he’d fooled for so long. Why had he done it? Was the thought of sharing power or losing control so difficult for an Onyalum that they lashed out in revenge? It was a scary proposition and Tyler hoped the Vereen was not controlled by an Onyalum.

He fled into the darkness of the canyon and hurried past several patrons standing around the glowing fire. Ignoring their salutations, he rushed down the canyon into the night, desperate to return to the village he didn’t like.

* * * *

Several weeks had passed since Tyler visited the cavern and his mind and body physically shook from the withdrawal of perneem. He was haunted by thoughts of Toosia and Linda, and Samil’s daughter noticed the obvious signs but said nothing out of shame.

When he’d returned from his venture so late the following night, she had chastised him until the light of morning filtered through their lone window. By the end of the conversation, she had fled in tears, a steely veneer replacing her earlier look of concern.

Even the people in the village looked at him differently, no doubt wondering what could have prevented their priest from attending his duties when their future priest’s life depended upon it. Did he not desire a suitable replacement to lead their village? Did he wish to bring down the wrath of Gamel on their poor village?

Tyler was guilty for all these things but especially for Seram as he struggled in the desert. Tyler fought his own demons and didn’t have time to fight Seram’s. The boy would either survive or he would die, and nothing the village could do would change that outcome.

Regardless, he tried to lead them in prayer to bolster the young man through his trial. After so much time, Seram should have been on the return leg of his trip. If he were alive, he would return sometime the following week. A week on Gamel was nine days in length, and Seram had already been gone thirty-two days. One more week and he could assume his new role as the spiritual leader of Kidium.

Selfishly, Tyler wanted Seram to return so he could turn over his priestly duties and pursue the pleasures that awaited him in perneem. He’d thought long and hard about the Vereen and her possible Onyalum possession, but decided he didn’t care one way or the other. So what if she were the cause of his fantasies, it was why he had come here wasn’t it? Even if she were Onyalum, what possible damage could she inflict on this primitive world? She was a priestess of a dead cult with nothing more than addicts as followers. Her threat to him or the planet was insignificant at best.

After finally arriving at his decisions, the pull of the cavern and its promise of perneem grew stronger with each passing day. He found it difficult to concentrate and knew he’d lost track several times while performing prayers and rituals. He’d accidentally switched words or phrases, and more than once, strayed into other sermons. He knew the villagers might have noticed, but fervently hoped most were blaming it on Samil’s old age. If they thought him addle, it was better than the truth. Tyler didn’t need additional guilt created by the truth.

Since the argument with Sherim, he no longer lived with her and her husband, but sought solitude inside the temple. It was protected from the villager’s prying eyes and questioning looks and provided him with ample opportunities to duck out unnoticed. Sherim brought food, but she rarely spoke or looked him in the eyes. She knew her father was lost and she longed for Seram’s return so that the grief in her life might finally be consumed by his senseless addiction. Tyler had no doubt she regretted saving his life from that tragic fall. If only she knew she hadn’t been the guardian angel.

He accepted her withdrawal and welcomed it for the freedom it provided. He’d interfered with her world by denying her that which she desperately deserved—her father’s death. He would help widen the gap between them, thus preparing her for the eventual loss she’d already been cheated. Tyler knew he still had to take the pilgrimage to Malane, but he didn’t plan on returning.

He made his way into the Zerum and prepared for bed. Since leaving Sherim’s home, he found the solitude of the temple a peaceful place to rest his drug depraved body. He rarely slept but tossed and turned as the perneem withdrawal consumed his every waking thought. Unlike the previous withdrawal when Samil was revived, this episode sapped his strength and threatened to overwhelm him. It was as if his Onyalum spirit was also addicted to the pleasures denied without the perneem.

He shook beneath the covers as his body fought the power of the drug. Visions of the Vereen, Joriss, Linda, and Toosia naked and receptive filled his mind with temptations while denying the sleep he sorely needed. He felt Samil’s older body wearing down from the painful withdrawal. Even the strength of his Onyalum spirit could not stave off the damage caused by his need for the drug.

He began to wonder whether the old man’s body would finally give out and die from the lack of the deadly narcotic. Tyler didn’t know how much was physical and how much was mental, but he feared the combination could prove fatal if left untended. He searched Samil’s memories for any references of a person beating the addiction or dying from it, but he found nothing.

A sound in the back of the Zerum startled him, and he sat upright peering into the darkness. For a brief moment, he thought he caught a glimpse of red eyes glowing from the ceiling overhead. His body shivered with the memory of that fateful night after Samil’s fall. Was he near death? Was the sayther coming to take his soul? He couldn’t concentrate as his mind rushed with powerful cravings that threatened to pull him from bed and send him running back to the Vereen.

Rivulets of perspiration ran down his forehead, stinging his eyes as more sounds emanated from the darkness. In his feverish mind, he prayed for the sayther to come and free him from the painful bondage that threatened his mind and body. He glanced into the darkness and saw red eyes moving towards him as though fulfilling his wish.

A deep fear seized him as the eyes danced their slow march to his bed. He both feared and welcomed the pending death, dreading the return to silence, yet desperate to end the torture that held him firm. This is a fitting punishment! The thought braced him for the inevitable conclusion.

The eyes grew large and Tyler locked onto them, awaiting his fate. They finally broke into the dim light of his bedside candle, morphing from a sayther into the body of Joriss. He smiled at the hallucination that came to comfort him during his trial.

“He … hel … lo.” He said in a shaky voice.

“Shhh.” Joriss’s sweet voice calmed as she reached out to stroke him gently. “I am here, Samil, I will help you.”

Tyler felt relief and pain at her presence when he realized she was real. She reminded him of the sexual pleasures he desperately needed, but could not have. Was she here to torture him further? Was this a demon sent by Gamel to haunt him? The Demon plagued by demons—the irony was just.

She placed a small bag on the floor and pulled out various vials and containers setting them delicately on the bedside stand.

“I have something that will ease your pain.” She poured the contents of a bottle into a small cup and helped Tyler rise to drink it. “It is a special blend of herbs that the Vereen uses when we are feeling the pain. Even we do not take perneem every day—it might kill us if we did.”

Tyler took the sweet liquid and felt instant warmth spread through his body. With it, his mind was immediately eased as he swam lazily in a drunken stupor. He smiled mischievously at Joriss. “I missed … you.” The words slurred out his mouth slowly, and he laughed at the mispronunciation.

Joriss smiled and took a sip from the cup as if to join him in this new experience. It was wonderful. He giggled uncontrollably, unable to stop himself as he grabbed Joriss when she began to giggle from the same delirious effects.

“Slop it,” she pleaded through laughter as the mispronunciation led them into a new round of hysterics. Tyler’s side flared in pain as his injury was stretched by the uncontrollable fit. This new feeling made him laugh harder, and Joriss joined him, helpless to stop.

He pulled her on top of him and began to undress her as she laughed harder while assisting the removal of clothes, tossing them haphazardly to the floor. In like fashion, she removed his, tickling him in the process.

The two lay naked as hands rubbed each other from top to bottom. They pulled the covers over and clung to each other to spread warmth. Slowly, the giggling abated as the effects quickly wore off.

Tyler held her tightly, brushing back hair from her eyes. Tears fell onto the pillow as she wept in his arms quietly. He comforted her, glad she’d come to comfort him. Tyler didn’t know how long it took, but both fell to sleep dreaming empty dreams with peaceful minds.

* * * *

It had been a week since Joriss had snuck into the temple, and Tyler was still happy for the company. Between the perneem and the herbal concoctions the Vereen made, both enjoyed themselves while feeling nearly normal during the day. Tyler even began to perform his duties without the constant mistakes and the unstoppable shaking.

They were careful to hide Joriss from the rest of the villagers, as her presence would be viewed as nothing less than an evil omen. During the day, Tyler held his services and vigils awaiting Seram’s return, but during the night he spent it enthralled with Joriss, consumed by their addictions. Every night his fantasies would change. One night it was Linda, the next Toosia, once it was even the small jelly-like creatures he’d met so long ago.

He didn’t care what fantasy played out, as long as it did. He was lost in the perneem and spent much of the day in anticipation of the night’s activities. Each morning he sipped more of the herbal remedy to ease the cravings, but it did not stop his insatiable desires. Even Joriss found it difficult to concentrate on anything other than the next time together. It was exactly what Tyler was searching for, and he gave himself wholly to it.

His painful past slid from his mind as he focused on the fantastical illusions created by the perneem. In its grip, he found himself reunited with lost loves and lost pleasures. The painful departures from those distant worlds no longer mattered when locked in a sexual embrace. Although it was Joriss he woke to, the nighttime held true loves.

Samil’s daughter finally severed all communication with her father and Tyler was grateful for the reprieve despite the concerns and fears it caused the rest of the villagers. He sank deeper into the grasp of the perneem, and the further he fell, the smaller his concerns for the villagers or Sherim. This was not his world, their problems were not his problems, and their god was not his god.

He kept up appearances as proper for his position, but his efforts grew minimal as time went by. Even while standing at the podium leading the people in prayers, his only thoughts were of Joriss and the escape they would enjoy that night. This dichotomy of prayer during the day and sin during the night kept Tyler pre-occupied and forgetful of Seram.

Tyler had finished the last of the daily prayers and sent the villagers back to their homes to continue the wait. He closed the door behind them and locked it tightly before rushing through the chapel into the Zerum and the paradise that awaited him.

He opened the doors to the inner sanctum locking them from the inside. He wanted to be certain no one would interrupt them when they went through their ritual intoxication. Considering what they would do to each other, it would have been unfortunate if Sherim barged in. Besides the impropriety inside the temple, Joriss was younger than Sherim.

Of course, after such a hard life, Joriss looked much older than her years. He wondered how the Vereen stayed so youthful considering her own addiction. Did she have some powerful potion that provided her with the fountain of youth? Tyler’s thoughts drifted back to an Onyalum. It would explain her youthful appearance, and seemingly unbounded energy in the face of such a powerful narcotic. He shook his head to remove those thoughts. He no longer cared about those things, he only cared about his daily pleasures.

He found Joriss sitting against one of the large book cases lining much of the room. She sat on the floor holding an enormous text she’d found on one of the shelves. A dip into Samil’s memories recalled the text as one of the newer scriptures written a couple thousand years earlier by a great and powerful Pretarch who’d documented visions of Gamel in the large tome.

A further exploration of the memories recounted a tale in the text about a distant time before Gesh and before the modern church. It was an innocent time when Gamel had finished creating the world and spent most of his time teaching his creations the wisdom and words of his ways. During that time, there were no prayers, no rituals, and no rules to fetter the people. They lived, loved and died under the watchful eye of their Creator.

Tyler thought the story boring and didn’t see wisdom or lessons to be learned from it. If anything, it taught them to see the world as it once was instead of how it was today. Tyler thought it taught the people to hate their god for what he had taken away instead of the promise he held out to tempt them into obedience. It was probably why the church rarely taught from the book.

Joriss looked up at Tyler with eyes filled with tears. “I cannot read what this says, but the pictures show a world I wish we lived in. Tell me what this book and those pictures mean?”

Tyler wasn’t sure if he wanted to tell her the truth. Sometimes it is better not knowing what you’re missing.

“It is called the Book of Terel, a man who had once been the Grand Pretarch of Gamel.” Tyler decided the truth couldn’t hurt anymore than she’d already been hurt. “In it, he recounts dreams that he says were provided by god.”

She looked at the book, confused despite the additional information. “But what are these pictures? Is it a dream of the future and the planet we will once again see, or is it just a dream?”

Tyler could see she was searching for some reason for her world. She’d turned away from the religion after being banned from her village, but like everyone on the planet, she’d been indoctrinated throughout her childhood. Tyler suspected she yearned for the comfort of explanations the religious stories provided. Without them, you were left with a harsh planet, harsh rules, and no future to look forward to. At least through religious doctrine, you could wish for the lush paradise living side by side with your god.

Tyler was silent in indecision. He wanted to lift her spirits if for no other reason than to get high, but a small part of him felt sorry for the poor girl. She was a simple person trying to cope in a strange and complex world. She was conflicted by her feelings and desires that had cost her a home. Now, all she had was a life of decadence and sin.

“It is just a dream, Joriss.” He felt guilty he couldn’t provide more comfort with his lie, but he didn’t think she would understand an idyllic past taken away by a vengeful god. He didn’t know what beliefs she still held, but considering what little else she had, he didn’t want to take those away.

They ate dinner in silence, the incident decidedly sending Joriss into depression. He ate quietly while his mind raced through ways he could get her to his same level of desire. He hated this world and he hated his existence, to him this was only an escape, an escape from the lives he’d unjustly lost. Visions of Linda and Toosia still haunted him and he desperately needed Joriss to provide him their illusory pleasures.

He pushed his plate to the center of the table and sat back. Joriss stared solemnly into her food, mostly untouched. How could he cheer her up? He had no words of comfort to provide. This was a world of sacrifice and suffering, and nothing he could do would change that. Their only pleasure was that which they found in each other. Perhaps it no longer was enough for Joriss, perhaps she was searching for something more—something spiritual.

“You’ve barely touched your food,” he said quietly, “are you feeling all right?”

She looked up with a blank expression, tears welling in her eyes. “I do not know if I am all right.” Her head sank again, tears falling onto her plate.

Tyler knew his chances were quickly dissipating unless he could find a way to comfort her. “Come, sit on the bed with me and tell me what is bothering you.”

He moved to the bed and sat with his back against the headboard patting the space next to him. She smiled weakly before getting up from the table to lie in his arms.

As soon as she’d nestled in, the tears poured down her face. He rocked her gently, waiting for the stream to subside. He remembered a time long ago when Linda had done the same thing. At that time, she’d been crying about something she’d seen at work. Tyler never understood why it had upset her, but looking back, he began to suspect that she, too, had recognized that which she had lost—her family.

Joriss finally controlled her tears and looked into Tyler’s face with questions he feared he couldn’t answer.

“Tell me of Gamel.” She pleaded. “Tell me why our God has forsaken us and left us to live this terrible existence.” She wiped her eyes, a look of angry resolve filling the sadness that had been there before. “Tell me why I must lose my village and my life because I loved a man, a man I was to marry.”

Tyler was afraid to answer. He didn’t care about Gamel or this world, and felt exactly as she did. Why did the god turn against them and force them to live in such harsh conditions while withholding the bounties the mountains held? What could he say? What did she want to hear? He let the essence of Samil answer, something he had done many times in debates with his daughter.

“Because we had forsaken him, he wanted to show us his love by punishing us, as any parent would an unruly child.”

Anger filled her face at the accusation that all of this was a parental dispute with its child. “This is how he shows his love!” She spat the words unable to contain herself. “This is our God? A God that forsakes his people because they misbehave? What parent would do that? Why would a parent do that?” She sat up next to Tyler, her fists clenched ready for battle against this parent who took punishment to the extreme.

“I do not understand it myself, and I have spent my life studying it.” Tyler had to admit, neither he nor Samil found understanding in the religious tenets of this world. Pain and suffering were not the beliefs either wanted in their life. It was one reason why Samil had lost faith.

“I lost everything because I loved a boy—a boy that loved me back. We were to be married after his trial—after he took over the temple. We were so happy then—and we believed in Gamel. We believed he approved and looked over us with blessings.”

Tyler saw a brief smile cross her face when she mentioned her lost love. He thought about Linda and Toosia and realized that Joriss must see her lost love when they made love under the influence of the perneem. Tyler felt a pang of jealousy even though he did the same.

“What was his name?” He asked wanting to prolong her brief happiness.

“Mineran, and he was … wonderful.” She stared longingly at the ceiling as though he hovered overhead. “Why did Gamel take him during the trial? Why would he deny us the real love we had for each other? Mineran worshipped Gamel but was prematurely taken from this world while his love was banished from their village. What kind of God is that?”

Tyler thought back to Samil’s trial, but nothing he could recall would answer her questions. “It is a harsh trial, Joriss, and many do not return. Do not think it was because of you—he simply didn’t have what it takes to survive. It takes more than faith to survive in the desert.”

“How did you survive?” She asked accusingly, as though he had some unknown secret to beat the system.

“To this day, I do not know.” It was at least the truth. Samil never understood why he had survived the trial. At the time, he'd assumed like everyone else that Gamel had watched over him and his faith had saved him from the desert death. But after losing that faith, he looked back at the trial with a sense of awe and mystery. If he didn’t believe his god watched over him, then how had he survived?

“He is a mean and harsh God, and I wouldn’t worship him even if it meant my life.” She snuggled back into Tyler. “I have more perneem, would you like some?”

Finally, she said the words he had been waiting for. Like him, the power of escaping to her lost love was too strong to be overthrown by the depression she’d felt earlier.

“Yes.” He thought about Linda and hoped she would fill his experience with her beauty.

Joriss jumped from the bed and pulled out the pipe from her bag, running to the bed excited. Tyler felt the same and his body responded in anticipation of the pending pleasure.

Joriss noticed his excitement and giggled like a girl. “Don’t get too far ahead, I want this, too!”

Tyler smiled embarrassed. “Sorry, sometimes my body moves faster than my mind.”

“More likely the other way around.” She teased gently.

After loading the contents, they both took deep inhalations that burned Tyler’s lungs despite his steady use. Almost instantly, the room pulsated with a red glow as the narcotic entered his system.

Both knelt on the bed disrobing each other in preparation for the sexual frenzy that would come. Naked and sweating, he rose to her, searching for her warm embrace. Likewise, she opened up, grabbing him to fill her as both became lost in the euphoric effects. Consumed by the drug, Joriss changed from the squat girl of Gamel into the elegant woman of Earth, Linda. Once again, Tyler lost himself in the fantasy, happiness filling him as his Linda took care of his every desire.

Both were lost in their fantasies, making love again and again as if for the first time. Tyler was certain Joriss saw Mineran when she looked at Samil, but he didn’t care as long as Linda entertained him.

Tyler didn’t know how long they had been at it, or how many times they’d reached the zenith, but he began to tire as the perneem slowly wore off. He arched in ecstasy one last time before falling to the side exhausted. Both lay naked, sweat gleaming in the pale candlelight as their breaths slowed from the demanding exertions. Sleep threatened Tyler, and he welcomed the new escape nearly as much as the perneem.

A sound in the back of the room startled him from his dozing and he stared into the blackness searching for the cause. There it was, this time closer.

He squinted into the gloom to see what was coming. As though confirming his worst fears, glowing red eyes peered into the room, bobbing up and down as they made their way toward the bed. Tyler was helpless, as his body was spent after the sexual activities.

He envisioned the sayther coming into the light, its dark claws and sharp teeth ripping into their naked flesh, tearing them apart while they lay helpless. He tried to move or scream to awaken Joriss, but he was held immobile by the drugs he could not escape. He was paralyzed by fear and exhaustion. It didn’t matter, they were both defenseless.

The eyes drew nearer as Tyler shook with fear of the inevitable. He knew he couldn’t die, but he didn’t want to give up Samil’s life … at least not yet.

The eyes and body of the sayther entered the dim circular glow of the candle and was every bit as horrible as Tyler remembered. The creature moved silently next to the bed, its long limbs carrying it lightly with glowing red eyes focused menacingly, prepared for the attack.

Tyler lay motionless as the beast hovered overhead, sniffing gently to determine what they’d been doing. Tyler knew it was obvious to anyone, even he could smell the pungent odors of their bodies after the sexual exercises. But he couldn’t move, he couldn’t scream, and he couldn’t escape the danger.

Slowly the sayther unsheathed a large claw and gently began tearing through Tyler’s chest, blood spraying through the ripped flesh. The sayther pulled the claw down from the top of Tyler’s chest to his groin. The claw burned as the tearing sounds were etched deep into Tyler’s soul.

The creature stopped short of his genitals, satisfied with the gaping wound it had created. Grabbing each side with both clawed hands, it pulled open his chest, tearing muscles and wrenching bones not intended to open in such a manner. Tyler screamed silently from the horrible pain he was helpless to stop.

The sayther turned its red eyes towards Tyler and smiled as it sank a clawed hand deep into the gaping wound. Tyler felt the claws raking inside, the pain unbearable as fear seized his mind. But still he couldn’t move. He felt the claws latch onto something inside and felt the sayther slowly pull it out. It did not come easily and Tyler felt a wrenching tug as the sayther tried to extract it against its will.

Finally the hand surfaced in a fountain of blood, clutching what looked like a head. As the head oozed from his chest, it turned towards him screaming through a very human mouth. It was Tyler’s Earth face staring back at him. As though giving up the battle, the Earth Tyler was wrenched from his chest, screaming as the sayther roared into the night.

The missing body left behind an emptiness that was more than Tyler could bear. He screamed while he struggled with consciousness. The sayther opened its mouth and tore into the bloody Tyler. He watched the horrific feast as Samil’s life faded with the loss of his Onyalum. Tyler clung desperately to life, trying to feed energy back into the shredded body. But try as he might, he could not stop the inevitable death that awaited him. Darkness filled his mind as the nightmarish vision faded and he was plunged into oblivion.

* * * *

Tyler bolted upright in bed, his startled scream echoing across the vast room. Remnants of the nightmare clung to his mind as he shook with fear. He clutched at his chest and was relieved to find it whole and complete. Nonetheless, a burning sensation ran from his throat to his groin, and in his mind, he felt the ripping claw tearing at his flesh. He lay back down trying to calm himself. Joriss slept quietly, nightmares apparently not plaguing her rest. He reached for their scattered covers, and was stopped by a sound at the nearby table.

“I see you’ve been busy while I was away.” The voice was eerily quiet, yet easily penetrated the gloom.

Tyler tried to pull covers over he and Joriss, but couldn’t quite cover them all. Who was at the table? He vaguely recognized the voice, but through his drug dulled mind, he struggled to put a face to it.

“I … uh … I guess.” He didn’t know how to respond to the faceless body eating quietly.

The voice continued. “The will of the flesh is strong. I understand that now.”

Finally it came to Tyler and he was wracked with guilt at the realization. It was Seram, he had survived his trial and had returned to find his master desecrating their temple. Tyler didn’t know what to do; he was caught red handed. What would Seram do? What could he do?

“I … I am glad to see you, Seram—you survived.” It sounded lame, but his mind was reeling with the implications of his situation. What if they banished him as Joriss’s village had banished her? Where would he go? Would the Vereen look after him?

“Perhaps you are glad to see me, but considering your current state of affairs—I doubt it.”

Seram remained calm and ate quietly as Tyler got out of bed quickly donning his clothes. It took more than a moment as he searched for them scattered about the room.

He tried to make small talk, the distant back of Seram unnerving. “How did the trial go?” He regretted the question as soon as he had asked.

Seram turned around and stared darkly into Tyler’s eyes. “How do you think it went? You’ve been there, why must you ask?”

Tyler fell silent as he looked back at a changed man. He expected to see a swollen and burnt face, seared by the desert heat. Instead, a tan face, determined and serious, stared back. He looked even better than before he’d left.

“Your … your face is so … smooth.” Tyler finished quietly, unable to believe anyone could return from such an ordeal with so little damage. It had taken Samil nearly a month to recover from his trial, but Seram appeared none the worse for wear—except those eyes. They stared from a face that looked years beyond the boy who’d left not long ago.

Seram ignored the comment and continued eating. “Do you intend on marrying this girl?”

The question caught Tyler off guard, and he stopped while considering what the question meant. Marry her? He had never even considered the possibility. Their age difference was too extreme, and their world would never accept such a situation.

“No.”

Seram turned back once more to stare at Tyler. “Then why are you with her? Why do you defile her with your perversions?”

Tyler had not been prepared for the attack and he felt a twinge of anger at the impertinence. “I am not defiling her—we have a mutual need.”

Seram took in his words and looked up and down as though searching him for the truth. Tyler felt exposed but let anger rise up to protect him.

“I will not be judged by you, Seram—you have never known love and lost it. She and I … well … we have lost love and mourn its absence everyday.”

Seram returned to his food. “I have known love—just not the love you speak of.”

Tyler’s anger cooled. The young man clearly had faith in his god, and his ordeal in the desert apparently strengthened that faith.

“I know all about you, Samil.”

Tyler grew nervous from the comment. What did he know, and how?

“What do mean?” He asked quickly.

“I know of the love you lost—the love you have betrayed—and the faith you have forsaken.” Seram paused as though debating whether to add to the laundry list of Samil’s faults. “I know of your addiction to perneem, and the orgies you partake in. You have fallen far from your God, Samil … perhaps too far.”

Seram put down his spoon and turned back once more. The look on his face was dour and Tyler waited for him to say he knew about the Onyalum inside.

“I know about the sins of the flesh—I am not as naive as you assume. In the desert I was tempted by those sins, and they were hard to deny—hard to deny a mind that screamed to stop the torture and partake in the worldly pleasures that I forgo. But my faith kept me alive … kept me … pure.”

What did he mean tempted by the flesh? Did he mean the hunger and thirst that was the trial or did he experience more than that? The words ‘worldly pleasures’ and ‘kept me pure’ had specific connotations, and Tyler wondered what trial this man had undergone.

“Perhaps I have fallen, but it is my own choosing and not your concern.” Tyler didn’t like the way this conversation was heading, and he quickly wanted to remind Seram of the positions they held in relation to each other.

“It may not be of my concern, but it will be yours when you meet my God.” Seram’s voice, though calm, held a nasty note of warning.

Tyler thought about the pending pilgrimage to Malane and wondered if the tales of their god were true. Would he return as predicted? What would he do to those without faith? The holy texts didn’t paint pretty pictures for the wicked. Tyler thought of Thosolan and of the angry god who had wanted Adanni destroyed and he wondered which one Gamel would be like. He hoped Thosolan.

“I will cross that road when the time comes—if it comes.”

Joriss woke to the sounds of their conversation and she seemed embarrassed that Seram had seen her in her current state. She dressed quickly, not saying a word as the two men debated.

Seram watched her finish dressing and addressed her by name. “Joriss, I see embarrassment in your eyes.”

The accusation stung Tyler and he watched as tears fell from Joriss’s eyes. Considering her delicate nature from the night before, this incident didn’t make her situation any more bearable.

“I … I should go.” She grabbed her bag and moved into the back of the Zerum towards the secret passageway that had let her in a week before.

Seram’s voice stopped her. “Gamel loves you, Joriss.”

She turned around and stared in disbelief at this man she had never met. Through the tears that fell down her face, she retorted in anger. “What do you know of Gamel—or love?”

“I know that he is sorry for taking Mineran.”

The statement caught both of them off guard. How did Seram know about Mineran? How did he know Joriss’s name? Tyler saw the same thoughts surging through her mind as she stared blankly.

“I … I … I don’t care that he is sorry … he ruined my life and I cannot forgive him!”

“But he forgives you, Joriss. He knows he ruined your life. He loved you both and never wanted to take Mineran away, but Mineran’s faith was not strong enough to get him through the trial.” He paused as though considering his next words carefully. “He did not have enough faith because his heart belonged to you.”

It was more than Joriss could take and she fell to her knees crying as she relived that terrible loss once more. Tyler didn’t know whether to comfort her or let her be. He couldn’t believe Seram could say such things to her—such hurtful things.

“He still loves you, Joriss, and he has plans for you when he returns. He knows that he doesn’t deserve your faith, but he recognizes that you still have it—despite your anger.” Seram stood and moved towards the sobbing woman, passing Tyler as though he didn’t exist. “He knows you deserve better than this, and you shall have it and more when he returns to show his love.”

Joriss looked up at Seram, tears moist on her cheeks, as a quiet calm spread across her face. “He will?” She asked meekly, taking Seram’s hand as he helped her from the floor.

“Yes,” Seram said gently, helping her gather herself before heading toward the secret door, “you will help him save our world.”

She smiled meekly at the thought of being wanted by their god. Did he really want her to save the world? Tyler could see the thought swimming through her mind. All that she had lost could once again be found if only she turned back to the God she had forsaken. Tyler felt sick with the implications. How could she fall for such an outright lie?

“What are you saying, Seram? How do you know what Gamel has planned for her? Or for anyone for that matter?” Tyler rushed to Joriss and freed her from Seram’s grasp. “Can’t you see she has suffered? Why would you torture her with these false promises of a better world? At least with me she knows what she is getting.”

Seram smiled at Joriss before giving Tyler a warning look. Tyler ignored him and helped Joriss to the door. He said goodbye and told her he would come see her soon. She grabbed his hand before leaving and thrust the pipe and the drugs into it.

“Here, you need these more than I do.”

With that she turned and disappeared into the dark passage, only the glow of the lichen lighting her way.

Tyler stared at the paraphernalia she’d handed him. What did she mean he needed it more than she? Was she not also addicted? Didn’t she, too, yearn for the escape perneem provided?

He shoved them into his pocket and walked back to Seram. “Well, thank you for your titillating testimony, apparently your trial fed the word of god into you.”

“Do not seek her again, Samil.” Seram’s voice was low and serious.

“Or what? You’ll bring down the wrath of god on me?” Tyler was fuming. Who was this young upstart come back to preach to him? “My needs and my business are just that, mine!”

Seram stared calmly. “You have been warned.”

Tyler returned his look unflinching. “Fine, I am warned. Now what? Do you plan on kicking me out of the temple? Taking over as is your right?”

“You will not kick you out of the temple, Samil, but yes, I will take over as is my right.”

Tyler thought about that, a part of him wanted to get kicked out, but concern for where he would go overrode his resolve. “And will you tell the village of my indiscretions?”

Seram stood up and walked towards the door. He turned before leaving and responded quietly. “They deserve to know the truth, Samil, but I won’t do that to them.” He paused before grabbing the door and unlocking it. “Besides, I would not do that to Sherim—she has suffered enough.”

Tyler couldn’t respond before Seram shut the door. His emotions ran the gamut of anger, to guilt, to shame. He had wanted this life, wanted the addiction that kept him from the truth, but it was costing other people too much, and causing him far more pain in the process. He thought about ending Samil’s life, but a vision of Toosia in ecstasy flooded his mind, and he knew he was too weak to take the easy path.

Visions

It had been several months since Seram had returned, and Tyler’s life had not improved. It was only weeks before the pilgrimage to the Holy City of Malane, and although Tyler desperately wanted to leave the village and the people who treated him like a doddering old fool, he didn’t look forward to the prospects of traveling with so many holy men.

To worsen his situation, he’d not seen Joriss since that fateful night Seram had caught them together. Although his interest in Joriss was purely physical, now that she was gone, he found he genuinely missed her. Her disappearance did not prevent him from pursuing his pleasures in the cavern, but Joriss had filled a gaping hole in his life—a need for intimacy.

Tyler settled into a routine pattern where he assisted Seram during prayers and rituals, but disappeared for his debauchery several times a week. Seram disapproved of Tyler’s habits, but he did not ask Tyler to leave or preach when Tyler returned. That suited Tyler fine.

The trips to the cavern held less enjoyment, and the increasing nightmares of vicious saythers weighed heavily on his mind. He rarely slept and when he did, the dreams were horror movies where he was hunted. These dreams aggravated his waking hours and pulled him further into the fantasy perneem provided. He knew he was on the roller coaster ride of addiction, and the longer he rode, the faster it would go. You could never get off, and eventually, you would crash.

Fanciful thoughts of quitting perneem periodically ran through his mind, but the bonds of its erotic effects were too strong for Tyler to break. He would remain addicted until Samil’s body finally gave out from the regular abuse.

Unfortunately, Samil’s health became a constant worry as Tyler felt chest pains on his regular trips to and from the cavern. His Onyalum spirit had yet to find a way to fix the damaged old man and an unhealthy life caused further damage to his failing flesh. He often pondered the pending death, wondering what he would do and where he would go.

Would he find another on Gamel, leading it into the same pit of darkness? Or would he seek out another world, one that offered even more exotic drugs to dull his mind and lose his soul? He’d cross that bridge when the time came. For now, he was content to abuse the body he had.

Powerful images of his pending sexual pleasures preoccupied him as he made his way through the dim glow of lichen in the lonely cavern. Samil’s body automatically traversed the well trodden path from memories of a hundred trips. Tyler rarely paid attention to the surroundings as his mind danced with delicious illusions of Toosia or Linda.

Despite the nightmares plaguing his sleep, the pleasurable experience he’d first found in perneem only increased in intensity. Regardless of the partners he chose, he always envisioned Linda, Toosia, or both, and forever tried to recapture the emotional feelings he’d had for both women. He knew his sexual exploits didn’t match the real Linda or Toosia—he’d never enjoyed such debauchery with either of them. It was simply fantasy—a fantasy he couldn’t ignore. He wanted more, and nothing would stand in his way.

He neared the small passage that opened into the final cavern when he heard something slide on the dirt back along his path. He turned to see who was following, and in the gloom, he spotted a dark figure moving toward him. It was difficult to make out their shape, but considering their difficulty traversing the path, he assumed it wasn’t a sayther. The demons were far more agile than the squat people of this world.

He stopped in indecision and ran through a short list of people who might follow him. Then again, he realized they might not be following him at all. One more lone traveler making his way to the cave of inequity? It was as likely an explanation as any. But it could be Seram wanting to follow him to the cave to preach to all the lost souls consumed by their hedonistic desires.

Tyler discounted that quickly. Seram had changed, his faith clearly stronger than ever, but his actions rarely indicated he was an evangelist looking to save the unbelievers. As far as Tyler could tell, Seram’s only concern was for the people of their village.

Tyler heard the distinctive sound of another foot slipping on loose dirt and watched as the dark figure temporarily disappeared below the rocks bordering the path. Tyler was uncertain whether he should confront the person or continue his journey. Something tugged at his consciousness—was it guilt? Perhaps the person was injured and needed assistance? What if they were dying? Could Tyler just leave them to suffer? What if they died in the cave? How could he walk past the corpse later and not feel extraordinary guilt?

Tyler could tell they were having trouble with the path. Samil’s memories gave him a definite edge navigating the dim corridor, but this person’s difficulty seemed incongruent with the relative ease of the walk.

Damn! Tyler cursed the stranger. They were probably in distress, and he would have to help. What were they thinking navigating this cave when in trouble? They should have stayed on the ridge and followed it to one of the villages dotting the desert floor. He could no longer ignore their progress and decided to confront them.

“Hello?” He called into the gloom, the sound reverberating off the cathedral ceiling like music in a concert hall. “I am Samil, do you need help?”

The dark figure stopped, and Tyler thought he saw an arm wave in response to his query. He listened for a voice but only heard the shuffling of feet against the loose earth.

Damn them, why don’t they answer?

Tyler’s impatience almost forced him to turn away and let them fend for themselves, but guilt held him fast. He gritted his teeth and decided he would wait for them to catch up. Considering their distance, he would have to climb a considerable part of the slope to reach them.

He could still see them struggling along the path, but making very slow progress. He thought he saw their arm wave once more, but he wasn’t quite sure as they disappeared behind a large stalagmite. He waited for them to clear the obstacle before calling out, but they never re-appeared. Now what?

He waited another minute before deciding they’d stopped for some unknown reason.

“Are you all right?” He called into the silence.

No response.

Indecision gripped him. Should he see if they needed help or forget them and move on? Maybe it was some game, and they wanted him to come back for some nefarious reasons. A part of his mind cried “flee” while another demanded “help”.

Help won out, though Tyler wasn’t certain why. He had to see who it was and what was wrong. If it was Sherim, or someone else from his village, he couldn’t leave them alone in the dark cave. What was the worst that could happen? He could die? Big deal, he’d done that before.

He trudged up the path when he thought he heard a small voice cry out. He couldn’t hear words though he thought “help” may have been part of it. He quickened his pace and deftly moved through the darkness toward the large stalagmite.

Minutes later, he rounded the immense column and saw a figure sprawled face down in the dirt. Although their face remained hidden, up close, he could tell they were female. Their clothing was ragged and looked as if they’d crawled most of the way to the cave. The hands were red and swollen as if blasted by a blow torch, and the hair was a stringy mess plastered to their head. Dirt covered the body from head to toe, and the exposed feet looked raw and bloody.

Tyler knelt to turn them over, but the body was limp and pieces of clothing came off in his hands as he tried to grasp the lifeless form. Finding a firm grip underneath their arms, he rolled them onto their back.

The face that rolled into view startled Tyler with dark blisters obscuring much of the features. Red and swollen like their hands, the eyes were swollen shut from the blistering that could only be caused by exposure to the desert sun.

Was this a survivor of the Trial of Gesh? Tyler wondered, but was confused by their sex. How could a girl be a Pretal? It went against all religious tenets, although there weren't any specific laws banning it. He tried to revive them, but they remained unconscious. He had no first aid and nothing to eat or drink. Clearly he had to get help, and from the look of their condition, fast.

He was about to leave and make his way back to the Temple when he noticed a shape beneath the lifeless form’s shirt. It was a pendant attached to a string, and as he pulled it out, he instantly recognized it. He’d seen that necklace somewhere before, on someone he’d shared perneem with. Did he know this person? His brain searched wildly for an identity before he froze in realization.

Joriss? His mind fought against the dreadful despair he felt for the poor woman. Could it be her? How had this happened? He brushed the plastered hair from her face and looked deep into the swollen face, trying to glimpse the beautiful young girl beneath. He was almost sure he could make out her visage beneath the blisters, and tears welled in his eyes as he felt helpless to save her.

“Joriss, what has happened—who did this?” He cried to her lifeless form, unable to control his emotions. He hugged her gently, embracing her as if to feed his Onyalum spirit into her failing body. He thought about taking her back to the Temple, but remembered Seram’s warning. Bringing her back would not sit well with either Seram or Sherim. They were still far from the cavern, and he wasn’t certain he could carry her. Could she wait for him to return with help? He didn’t think so.

He kissed her cheek gently. “Hang in there, Joriss, I am taking you to help. Don’t you die on me—you are too young to die on me!” He gently wrapped her clothing around her and tried to lift her in his arms. She was too heavy and bulky for him to carry that way.

Damn it! He cursed Samil’s old body and its inability to handle something so basic. He sat on the ground cradling her head and thought about what he had with him. He had the large cloak that all Pretals wore, but he couldn’t imagine dragging her all the way to the cavern. The rocks and gravel would destroy his garment before they made it half way.

As he thought about the cloak he had an idea. A sling!

He removed the cloak and tied the bottom of it into a knot before tying together the arms to make a loop that went around his chest. He laid it out on the ground and gently moved Joriss’s body into the makeshift sling. He slipped the looped arms around his right shoulder and over his chest before grabbing the knotted end with his left hand. He pulled hard until he held the knot in both his hands at his abdomen. Her weight was now distributed across his shoulders and back, and it was much easier to carry her, although it took a great deal of effort to get her off the ground.

With her body wrapped around his back inside the cocoon, he slowly began making his way down the path towards the distant cavern and help.

His chest burned from the exertions, but he fought against it using his Onyalum spirit, refreshing the life force as best he could. It was a long road ahead, but Tyler was determined to get her to safety. He wasn’t going to let her die—even if it cost Samil’s life.

* * * *

It took a couple hours for Tyler to get Joriss to the cavern, but he finally succeeded, collapsing outside the entrance to a crowd of shocked patrons. Tyler’s chest pounded with the pain of a heart near breaking and his eyes saw through dark spots that flashed in and out as he tried to recover from his exertions.

He felt hands grabbing him, removing the sling and carrying him inside the cavern. There were familiar noises and glimpses of light as they carried him through the bar into the back corridor. Voices yelled across the room, but Tyler couldn’t make out what they said as he barely clung to consciousness. His chest burned as if from the inside. He thought about River Red and was overcome with despair.

They carried him into one of the many rooms lining the corridor, but he could no longer cling to awareness as he succumbed to the cooling darkness that took the burning away. He was certain Samil’s body was dying, but he was willing to leave it if it meant Joriss lived. He waited in the darkness for the pop that would signal the release of his spirit, but nothing happened. He floated quietly in the darkness, a cool sensation washing through his mind.

It was similar to that distant meeting with the Universe. It, too, had been pure black except for the pieces of his essence swirling around him. He tried to sense them but felt nothing. It was as if he were only a consciousness, floating in a dark sea, no sense of touch, sight, or sound. After so much pain, he embraced the soothing blackness.

He let his mind go, releasing the tension, the anguish and the stress. He concentrated on floating through the void, urging the blackness to rock him on gentle waves. If this was real death, he welcomed it. The nothingness was peaceful and relaxing.

Like a baby disturbed from its lullaby, Tyler felt something pull harshly. He fought it, wanting only peace the darkness provided, but the pulling wouldn’t stop. He struggled but realized he was losing the battle as an unknown force dragged him from the cool darkness into a hot fire of chaos.

Intense sounds and sensations invaded his consciousness as he thrashed in reaction to the rude awakening. Strong hands gripped him, trying to force him down on a soft bed. Voices yelled at Samil, but Tyler ignored their pleas. He wanted peace and oblivion, but they would not let him return.

His chest pounded and burned, but began to subside as his body adjusted to the life force his spirit poured into it. He stopped thrashing and stared into the faces of strangers. Sweat poured from their exhausted expressions, and their eyes took on a look of desperation. Slowly they released their grip and stood back in obvious relief. Another face leaned into view and Tyler recognized the Vereen, her beauty unmarred by the violent episode he’d just survived.

“Are you back, Samil?” Her voice was sultry and soothing, the pain in his chest eased by its lyrical tones.

What magic did this woman possess? “I feel bet … ter.” The words were hard to speak, but his body slowly returned to normal. It must have been a heart attack, what else would have caused such pain? How had he survived? He wasn’t certain he was happy he had. He grabbed the Vereen’s hand and looked into her eyes. “Jor … riss?” Was all that came out.

The Vereen smiled, satisfied he was back with the living. “She is fine, Samil, you saved her life.”

She lifted his head and made him sip a foul substance. He trusted her implicitly, and as the liquid brought sleep, he once again felt the beckoning darkness and peace. The world around him faded as he smiled at the Vereen one final time. “Thanks.”

* * * *

Tyler was inside a large temple, old and deteriorating. It was nearly dark except for a soft light entering from high in the center of a domed ceiling. The light from outside the temple pierced the gloom like lasers. Where it hit the floor, a raised platform stood in stark relief to the emptiness of the surrounding room.

Tyler was confused. Where was he? What was this place? He had difficulty remembering what had happened or why he was there. He felt a pain in his chest, and a burning sensation ran from his throat to his groin.

His life as an Onyalum was crystal clear, but what or who he currently had become was not. A name rose out of the depths, and with it memories of a stark world. Samil. He was Samil and he was on Gamel, a world abandoned by their god, struggling to survive.

But where was he? What had he been doing? He vaguely remembered the cavern and the Vereen. Had they been making love? Was this a hallucination brought on by perneem? He wasn’t sure why, but it didn’t add up.

He looked around the strange temple and wondered whether this were actually Gamel or somewhere else in the Universe. It was larger than any temple in the villages. Was this an inner part of the Vereen’s cavern? Perhaps this was Malane? Had they made their pilgrimage? That didn’t add up either.

He was thinking of it as a temple but he didn’t know why. Where am I? He was both confused and frightened. The room was eerily silent, and he felt like he was locked in a mausoleum—a crypt from which he could not escape.

He yelled up to the domed ceiling, hoping someone outside would hear. “Hello, is there anyone out there? I need help.”

Only silence answered his pleas, and he was left pondering whether there were passages that led out of the large room. The dark edges around the light gave no indication of exits, and without some form of light, he was apprehensive to explore.

He suddenly spun around looking for the source of the sound from behind him. “Hello?” He called tentatively, not certain he actually wanted to meet anyone inside this dank chamber.

The words echoed off the ceiling, but the silence remained. He edged closer to the light, no longer comfortable near the darkness.

There it was again, like a sliding sound, or a slither. He grew nervous from the thought of anything slithering. He turned his ears from side to side, trying to pin down the location of the sound. Only silence. Damn! He was already regretting coming to this world but still felt anchored by the perneem’s grip. The stark creepiness of the planet was becoming more of a nightmare than an escape. Where am I?

Desperation rose to his throat as he searched wildly for an escape. A click from behind startled him, making him jump nervously. Was that a door opening? No light revealed a passage.

There it was again, this time from a different direction. Suddenly clicking sounds emanated all around the dark edges of the room. He was surrounded, and they drew closer. But what?

“Who are you? What do you want?” He screamed like a madman as he backed onto the raised platform. His chest beat wildly and the burning sensation intensified. He gripped it, bending over as a sudden pain took his breath away. What was happening? Was he dying? Was Samil’s heart finally giving out?

The ominous sounds grew louder and Tyler fell to his knees staring blindly into the blackness, searching for the cause of his distress. Like evil Christmas lights, hundreds of red eyes lit the darkness with a menacing glow that promised death.

“Oh, god, no!” His pleas did not stop the eye’s persistent march towards him.

They moved into the light, and with them, the white fangs and claws of the saythers glowed menacingly. Their claws raked the hard floor, filling the silence with the awful clicking he’d heard before. Their faces were black grins baring sharp fangs dripping with saliva hungry for the taste of Tyler’s flesh. He had no illusions they wanted him.

The pain in his chest caused his breathing to burn in his lungs as he scrambled toward the center of the platform. He stood beneath the angelic beams of light and faced his doom grimly. What had brought him here? Why did they want him? What had he done to deserve this? Did they know he was an impostor and this was their revenge?

He stood shakily in the center of the stage as saythers drew near. Their red eyes pierced like knives seeking to tear out the Tyler within. He raised his fists in anger. “What is it you want? You cannot kill me?” He screamed hysterically. “You cannot destroy me. I will still go on!”

He felt Samil’s heart giving out, the last bits of life surrendering to the ravages of old age. The saythers sensed his escape and sprang onto the stage rushing in a black frenzy. As they reached him, he felt the ripping of claws as they shredded the old man’s body. Tyler watched the gruesome scene as it faded into bloody redness from the violent rending.

A voice cut through the melee, and Tyler opened his eyes to see the Vereen shaking his shoulders lightly.

“Samil, wake up.” Her voice was comforting after the nightmare he’d been through. “Are you all right?”

He lifted onto his elbows as the Vereen sat down on the bed next to him. “Yes, thank you. I was having a nightmare.”

“I’ll say.” She scanned him up and down, and it took Tyler a moment to realize he was soaked from the hellish ordeal. Had he been acting the nightmare out?

His chest burned slightly, but the pounding had gone. “I dreamed I was dying, and my heart was giving out.”

She smiled weakly and grabbed his hands. “You nearly did. I was able to save you, but just barely.” She stroked his head easing his frayed nerves. “What else do you remember?”

He searched his memories, and Joriss came rushing back. “Joriss, is she all right?” He suddenly needed to see her, to verify that she was alive.

“She is fine, Samil, perhaps better than you.” The Vereen assured him.

“But … where is she?” He asked weakly, exhaustion overcoming him.

“She is here, same as you, in a nearby room. She is resting as should you.” The Vereen reached for the bed stand and grabbed a small bottle. “Here, take some of this, it will help you sleep.”

“No way!” He pushed her hand aside. “After the last nightmare, I’d rather stay awake.”

She pushed the bottle forward again. “Please, Samil, you are very sick and must rest. Do it for me?” She deployed her beautiful smile, and her eyes grew larger as she stared deeply into his.

Tyler felt the effect melting away his resistance as his eyes grew dreamy with wondering about the curves beneath her robe. He felt a sensation between his legs and smiled as he imagined them together. Damn it, what power did this woman possess? He couldn’t resist and drank from the bottle.

She tucked him under the covers and wiped the sweat from his brow. “You must rest, Samil, if we are to be together again.” She smoothed the covers over him, her hand stopping on top of his lap. He felt a hardness grow at her touch, and she smiled as she felt the rise.

Sleep fogged his mind, and the vision of the Vereen changed into a vision of Toosia as he fell under the spell of her powerful narcotic. He didn’t know what he’d taken, but he liked its effects. He drifted to sleep and imagined making love with his long lost Toosia.

* * * *

The sound of a slamming door woke Tyler. The room was dark except for the glow of a dying candle across the room. Tyler pushed the covers off and swung onto the cold floor. The coldness was a welcome sensation after so much sleep.

He wondered how long it had been since the Vereen had given him that drug? He looked at the bedside table and noted there were no medicine bottles, only a small cup with what looked like water.

He drank heavily, thankful as it cleared his parched throat. He was becoming accustomed to waking after such long periods, but wondered what that said about him and his health. This time, he recalled everything, Joriss, carrying her, and the heart attack he had barely survived. Even the ghoulish nightmare of the saythers came back in painful relief, and he shuddered from the memory.

He was partially dressed but quickly located his clothing across a chair in the back of the room. The garments were clean and folded neatly. Obviously, one of the Vereen’s girls had taken care of them. He quickly dressed but sat down heavily as blackness threatened his senses.

It took a moment to recover, and he realized Samil’s body was far too old for the exertions he continued to place on it. What did he care? If Samil died, he could find someone new.

Hollowness growled deep within his belly, and he knew he needed to satisfy the hunger quickly. It felt like he’d woken from a round of perneem, except his head was clear and fresh. Apparently, the sleep had been necessary.

He opened the door in time to see one of the cavern’s women carrying a heavy tray of food and drink to a room two doors down. He quickly followed and prayed she was going where he hoped. He walked through the open door and spotted Joriss sitting up in bed, her face a swollen mess.

Although they had cleaned her up, it would take weeks for her face to fully recover. She looked at Tyler and smiled through cracked lips.

“Samil, thank Gamel you are alive!” She tried to move out of bed, and Tyler rushed to her side forcing her back.

“Please, Joriss, don’t get up. You need to rest.”

The woman who’d been carrying the tray admonished both of them. “The same could be said of you, Samil. Why are you out of your bed? You both need rest.”

Joriss raised a hand in protest. “It is all right, Pherem, we will not talk long. Can you please give us a moment?”

Pherem looked dubious, but pulled the table next to the bed before heading to the door. “Fine, just eat something while you talk.”

Once they were alone, Joriss grabbed Tyler’s hand, cuddling it to her face while tears fell from her cheeks. Tyler felt the blisters and cracks against the back of his hand despite the heavy salve they’d applied.

“Thank you for saving me, Samil, I am glad you didn’t die.” She let go of his hand and wiped her eyes with the blanket. “Are you hungry?”

He looked at the full tray of food and felt sick from the intense hunger. “Yes, I am famished.”

Both ate quietly for a while, although Tyler ate more than his fill. He didn’t know how long Joriss had been out, but he felt like he hadn’t eaten in weeks. He washed it down with a pint of their version of beer, and despite the heavy bitter taste, he welcomed the calming effects of the alcohol.

He set his cup down and looked into Joriss’s eyes. “What happened to you, Joriss? Where have you been?”

“On the Trial of Gesh.”

He couldn’t believe what she was saying. She had purposefully went on the trial? What was she thinking?

“What do you mean you have been on the Trial of Gesh? Why? It is only for men … men who are to become Pretals.”

“I know,” she looked down at her ruined hands, turning them over as if seeing them for the first time, “I didn’t want to survive it.”

Tyler fell silent from her admission. She didn’t want to live, and he knew that feeling all too well. Unfortunately, he couldn’t die. He drank from his cup, draining it before refilling from the pitcher. He drank more before setting it on the table.

“Why, Joriss?” He felt her suffering and thought back to Seram and his painful words. “Do not listen to Seram, he knows nothing about our suffering.”

“I know that, it wasn’t him who made me do this … it was … you.” She frowned and turned away from him, fresh tears flooding her face.

Tyler was caught off guard. Why was he to blame? What had he done? Samil had always been there for her, helped her, shared her pain, and loved her.

“What are you saying, I made you do this? How?”

She turned back towards him. “Not you, but your presence, and our …” she hesitated as if trying to find words that wouldn’t sting, “our relationship together.”

He sat back disbelieving her confession. Had she not enjoyed their time together? Why had she persisted in maintaining the relationship? He had never forced her. If anything, Samil had always been reluctant. Was it Tyler she did not like—the new Samil?

“I am sorry if our relationship was painful. I never forced myself upon you—I thought we enjoyed each other’s company.”

“Yes, we do—I mean.” She stopped, obviously uncertain how to explain her feelings. “Samil, I love you, you have given me more than anyone except the Vereen. I did enjoy our time together and still desire them. It is just that … well, it is just that every time we are together … you know, after the perneem … well, I see Mineran, and it is that which has kept me coming back time and again.”

Tyler thought she looked relieved to get it off her chest. How had she been able to remember her episodes? Samil had never remembered his forays into the sexual pleasures of perneem.

“How is it you remember so clearly?” He asked more than curious. Was there something special about her? Maybe women didn’t forget their experiences like the men?

She looked confused. “What do you mean?”

“I mean … I mean I have never remembered the experiences until recently. I always woke with a memory of sexual satisfaction, but not of who I was with.”

“Oh, I see.” She stared at her hands. “I have always remembered, since my first time. My visions are different, but with you, they are always the same. I assumed you saw visions of your dead wife—but I guess not.”

He did now, and he assumed Samil had, too. Samil simply never remembered. Something must have remained of the experience. Why else had he continued to come back to Joriss?

“Recently, I, too, have had visions of my lost love.” He smiled, hoping to ease her pain. “I understand your feelings, Joriss, I feel it, too. But why try to kill yourself?”

“I don’t know. I just couldn’t stand the thought of not having Mineran in my life. The perneem only gave me an illusion of Mineran, not the real love we had. I was alone, and despite your friendship, I was empty inside. I needed something—I needed Mineran.” She started crying again, and wiped tears gently. “I have no family, Samil—I only have you and the Vereen. I love you both, but I miss my real family. I wanted to escape to join Mineran in Jurane.”

Tyler thought about reminding her that suicide would not gain her entrance to Jurane, but thought twice about it due to her fragile state of mind. He understood her loneliness, and he felt genuine guilt that he was unable to provide her what her soul needed.

“Why the trial? Why go that way?” Memories of Samil’s ordeal fed Tyler with the painful reliving of the desert agony.

“I don’t know—I suppose I thought it might help me see Mineran again … you know … since he died that way.” She wiped her eyes again. “I know it was foolish, but I am not happy I survived. In fact, I don’t know how I survived.”

“What do you mean? I brought you here.” He wondered how long she had been in the desert.

“Yes, I know that, but I walked for twenty days like the trial says, but I never turned around to return. I was far from here … and from you. How did I get back?”

She was obviously confused, and Tyler assumed she had walked back, but simply didn’t remember. “You just don’t remember—you must have turned back.”

“No!” She said it so loud it startled Tyler. “I did not walk back! After twenty days I simply sat on the desert floor, waiting for Gamel to take me. I had no faith in him and wanted only the death his trial could provide. But it never came. I remember saythers—hundreds of them tempting me with food and drink, urging me to turn around and return, but I refused. At first I couldn’t understand them—they spoke in some strange language. But after a time, their language became clear. It was strange, but I was determined to die in the desert.”

When she mentioned saythers, Tyler froze as he remembered his nightmare in the temple. What were these creatures? And what was their purpose?

“I don’t understand—you simply sat down and waited to die?” He couldn’t believe someone could actually do that.

“Yes … but the last thing I remember was inside the cave … seeing you in the distance. I thought you were a mirage. Then I woke up here.” She wasn’t happy, and Tyler feared for her life. Would she try something even more drastic?

“Surely you don’t really want to die, Joriss? Please tell me you want to live—I couldn’t stand seeing you die.”

She smiled and grabbed his hand. “No, Samil, I do not want to die. Perhaps I was returned from the desert to serve a purpose?”

He pulled his hand away. “Surely you don’t believe what Seram told you, do you?” He remembered the prophetic statement Seram told her about saving the world. Would she now become a crusader, evangelizing around the planet trying to save it from damnation?

“No … well, not really … no.” She was uncertain and Tyler grew concerned.

“Please, Joriss, don’t listen to his religious nonsense! He just returned from the trial himself. It does stuff to a person, makes you believe there is some powerful force guiding your every step, when in reality only you determine your path. Don’t choose that way, Joriss. It will only lead to disappointment. Trust me, I know!”

“I won’t do that, Samil, that is not what I meant. I feel I am meant for something else, something special. I believe I am meant to have children and raise my own family.”

Tyler was relieved and more than surprised. “But, I thought you couldn’t have children. I mean all those times, surely something should have happened, if you could?”

“Yes, something could have happened, if I had wanted it to. We … we have ways to prevent it.” She looked embarrassed by the admission.

Of course, the Vereen would surely provide some pharmacological substance to prevent pregnancy. He felt stupid for not considering it. He supposed with all the trouble women had with pregnancy, he assumed it affected them all. Why would anyone consider birth control when birth rates were steadily dropping?

A thought shocked him. “Are you …?” He didn’t want to finish the question, fearful of how she might answer.

“No, Samil, I am not. Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I want my children’s father to be someone … younger.” She looked sad for having to say it, but Tyler was relieved.

“Oh, no … no, you deserve someone younger and … better than me.” A part of him hoped she were only lying about wanting children, but another part of him wanted her to be happy. He would lose his faithful lover, but then she needed a family, while he was trying to flee one.

She grabbed his hand. “No one is better than you, Samil, no one.”

Into The Valley Of Death

Tyler stayed a couple more days at the cavern until his strength returned. When he finally showed up at the Temple, Seram remained silent about his time away. Tyler felt like telling him about the ordeal but knew Seram would react badly if he knew Tyler had been with Joriss. It would be better to keep his ordeal to himself.

They spent the last week preparing the village for their departure on the pilgrimage, and it was an exciting and nervous time as they would be without their spiritual leaders for so long a period. The journey would end with the arrival of their God, and even those whose faith held doubts, couldn’t help but be excited with the prospects of Gamel’s return. Seram was certain their suffering would soon end, and he reassured them on a daily basis.

Since no one from the village would have access to the Temple, they cleared all perishables out and cleaned the Zerum before packing what they needed. As prescribed in the sacred texts, Pretals could only bring the food they could carry, and one religious text to read along the route.

Tyler packed dried roots, grasses, and the hard cakes that were a mainstay of the people’s diet. He wrapped it all in a small cloth package that could easily be carried over his shoulder. On the other shoulder, he carried the text that Joriss had found long ago, the text about the dreams of a Grand Pretarch and a world long dead. Tyler couldn’t care less what text he brought; this one simply reminded him of Joriss.

In a hidden pocket inside his robe, he stashed an ample supply of perneem and other pharmacological potions the Vereen had recommended. No one was certain how long the journey would last, but everyone assumed they would be gone the better part of a year. It was too long for Tyler, especially without the pleasures of the cavern. He hoped he had plenty of perneem to satisfy his addiction, otherwise, the journey would be more like hell than a trip to salvation.

No one had taken this journey in over five thousand years, and although the texts were explicit as to how it should be done, Tyler held doubts. The planet’s entire religious community would embark on this long journey to a distant city most had never seen, and many believed no longer existed.

The church had a very rigid hierarchy with Pretals in the villages, Pretares overlooking regions, and finally the Pretarchs overseeing everything from Malane. The problem was no one had been to Malane for thousands of years, and Samil held no memory of a Pretarch ever leaving Malane during that same period.

Pretares were elected by the Pretals from within their own ranks, so the Pretarch’s role in the everyday life of the people was non-existent. Only occasional texts, like the one Tyler carried, were evidence the Holy City and its Pretarchs existed. But even those had not been seen for hundreds of years. Tyler wondered if Malane still existed.

Either way, they would find out. As the date drew nearer, Tyler thought about backing out. He didn’t really want to go regardless of the outcome, but the Vereen had convinced him by arguing how it would look if a holy man remained behind. Tyler imagined it wouldn’t look any different than a holy man partaking in unholy sexual pleasures while under the influence of narcotics, but her power to sway him won out.

He was baffled by this power but fell in line nonetheless. He was certain Seram would not have cared if he had remained behind, although how that would look to the other Pretals might have concerned him a little.

All the Pretals were to meet at the village of the regional Pretare. Once assembled, they would journey together into the mountains onto a path that was supposedly carved out of the dense forest for just this purpose. Tyler found it hard to imagine such a path still existed. Surely it was overgrown and impassable after so long without travelers.

It was said the path followed the mountain range around the planet before meeting up outside the lost city of Perneer and the trailhead to the city of Malane. Tyler imagined the travel past Perneer was intended to remind everyone of Gamel’s wrath. However, Tyler was interested in this lost city of decadence. The Vereen had said she’d been there, but she had never said why. He supposed her cult treated it like their holy Mecca, a symbol of past glories they tried to relive.

Regardless, he looked forward to seeing something so ancient, so large, and so desolate. It was the only part of the journey he was certain he would enjoy. A mountain walk through the forest was not his idea of fun, and the temptations of the abundant fruit they could not partake in only made it worse. The texts explicitly forbade taking the forbidden fruit on penalty of death. But they were unclear as to how you would die. Tyler envisioned saythers and was filled with trepidation.

The texts also assured them that those who stayed on the path would have safe passage, but those that strayed would be dealt with harshly. He thought about taking care of the basics, like relieving one’s self, but decided he’d wait until the Pretare gave instructions.

When they finally set out to their first stop in the village of Manseer, all the villagers were present to see them off. Most ignored Tyler who stood quietly behind Seram as they prayed for safe passage. Tyler met Sherim’s eyes only once, and she quickly looked away, pain obvious on her face. She knew he would not be returning, but she couldn’t bring herself to show the emotions this caused.

Tyler was relieved. He’d wanted to avoid a confrontation. Most would be happy if he didn’t return, and he knew Sherim would be doubly so. The pain he caused was too great for her to bear any longer, but his departure would be bittersweet.

The day before, Tyler visited the cavern one last time. He was upset Joriss had disappeared without telling anyone. Even the Vereen was worried by her absence. Nonetheless, it did not prevent Tyler from saying goodbye in a most inappropriate way.

Those sweet memories sustained him as he followed Seram along the ridgeline towards Manseer. He clung to the fading vision of Linda straddling him in ecstasy. It would be a long time before he would enjoy that again, if ever. The thought made him morose, but he was determined to see this through, if even alone.

They marched steadily for the better part of a day with only occasional breaks. Fortunately, Manseer was close to their village and they expected to arrive before nightfall. They would stay in Manseer a day or two to organize before setting off into the mountains. Tyler thought back to the cavern and wondered if something similar existed near the distant city. Unfortunately, if it did, its location would be somewhere high in the hills, inaccessible to anyone not familiar with the area.

Tyler was filled with regret, but he steeled himself for the realization that his debauchery would be put on hold. The addiction was strong, and he constantly wondered whether he would survive the journey. So far, Samil’s body held up against the stress, and considering the recent heart attack, he was surprised by its unusual stamina.

He looked at Seram as he suddenly stopped. Tyler watched the young man remove his packs and sit down on a nearby rock. He signaled Tyler who slowly caught up and sat down next to him. Their breaks were silent affairs, and Tyler was happy for the lack of conversation. He liked Seram, but the change in him made him too difficult to speak with. Everything was about Gamel and his return, and Tyler was bored with the topic.

They sat quietly staring at the desert below. Only sparse plant life broke the reddish brown landscape stretching south into the desert toward the distant ocean. Based on Samil’s memories, no one had ever tried to make it to those distant seas. The texts spoke about them, especially during the times when the seas had provided food for the bustling world. Cities sprang up all along the shoreline, and the bounty they provided was traded freely for the fresh fruits and grains of the mountain and plains.

There were ample references about these cities, but no one knew what had happened to them after Gamel turned the plains into a desert. Had those fishing villages been destroyed like Perneer? Did the people flee the encroaching desert and return to the villages dotting the base of the mountains? No record of their fate was written, and Tyler wondered if they still existed independent from the rest of the planet.

He could imagine an entire civilization living along the seas, happy, carefree and free from the constant struggle to survive. The only thing separating them from the rest of the world was a vast desert too hot and too dry to cross. It was speculated that it would take a man on foot about a year to cross the desert to the oceans. With the ban on all things technological, building a vehicle to shorten that distance was unlikely. Whatever was out there, it would remain separated from the people for a long time.

Tyler watched Seram stare into the distance, unfocused. He could imagine the young man thought about Gamel and his pending return. As if sensing his thoughts, Seram turned to Tyler.

“I know what you did for Joriss.” He admitted slowly.

It was flat and emotionless, and Tyler wondered if he meant saving her life.

“What do you mean?” He asked curious.

“I heard about her … trial … and you saving her life. Thank you.”

Why was he thanking him, most would have done the same thing under the same circumstances. What was a prostitute to someone as holy as Seram? The way he had treated her by bringing up painful memories still stung Tyler.

“Who told you?” He asked accusingly.

“I have my sources—some may even surprise you.”

Tyler hated the secrecy but didn’t really care who Seram’s sources were. “Whatever—it was nothing.” He wanted to leave it at that, but something inside burned to get out. He turned to Seram and confronted him.

“Why do you care what happens to her, Seram? Isn’t she just a lowly whore whose pain and addiction you’ll never understand or forgive? Her village Pretal didn’t care about her when they forced her to leave her life after losing the one thing she loved!”

“I … care.” Seram put no emotion in the words.

Tyler countered. “I see. When she is just a whore and Gamel has no interest in her, then you don’t care. But now, after your wonderful journey into the desert she has become something important … something your god wants.” He stared into Seram’s eyes, anger pouring forth. How dare Seram judge her and then suddenly care about her welfare. “You are a hypocrite, Seram.”

Seram turned back to the desert vista and didn’t respond to the accusations. Picking up his packs, he slung them over his shoulder to leave.

“We should keep moving—night is coming.”

Tyler shook his head in disgust. At least they weren’t going to say a prayer before starting. He picked up his own packs and slowly followed Seram. It would be a long journey, and Tyler couldn’t wait to join the other Pretals so he didn’t have to spend these moments with Seram. He was ready to leave everything about Samil’s life behind, including his apprentice.

* * * *

They made Manseer before nightfall, and Tyler was tired from the exertions. Fortunately, Samil’s constant ventures to the cavern had kept him in reasonable physical condition, but his failing heart made every step that much harder to take.

They first met with the Pretare and were assured they would leave in a few days after waiting for the arrival of the remaining Pretals. Tyler was happy for the rest, but bored with the circumstance. Everything about Manseer was identical to Samil’s village of Kidium. The temple was the same, the village was the same, and the people were the same. The forest path they’d travel also sounded boring, but at least it would be in contrast to the sameness of the desert floor.

After eating and resting, Tyler quietly slipped out of the temple into the night. He walked far from the Temple and found a large boulder where he could sit and relax. He wasn’t in the mood to spend the night discussing religion with the rest of the Pretals and was more interested in getting high to forget everything about this place.

He prepared the perneem, using sparing quantities to save it for the journey. The effects were immediate and he desperately yearned for the Vereen or Joriss to join him. This was would be the painful part of his addiction, getting high alone, denying the release of sexual pleasures. Despite being alone, his body responded to the drug, readying itself for the pleasure that would never come.

He leaned against the rock and tried to push the erotic thoughts from his mind. He thought about their journey and the trip through the forest. Would they see saythers? He hoped not, but felt certain they would come. He thought about the distant city of Perneer and wondered if anyone took up residence in that dead city. It was forbidden, but Tyler thought that was a trivial threat on a world without police, armies, or enforcement of any kind. The fear of god was the enforcement here, and Tyler laughed at the implications.

On Earth, you would rarely get domestication from only the threat of a god. Humans were too adventurous, self-serving, and violent to keep peace from an imaginary threat. He knew there were pockets of people whose beliefs were strong enough to control their lives, but overall, the human race dictated its own rules and its own future. They couldn’t even agree on what god to believe in.

Tyler stared into the dark desert at the myriad stars filling the moonless sky. Visions of Toosia overlaid the calm scene and Tyler’s body once again yearned for her presence. Damn it! The thought held little force as he fought against the insidious drug that controlled his life.

He thought about the nearby village and wondered if anyone would accommodate him. The thought sounded as ridiculous as he knew it was. Who in their right mind would take in an old Pretal for sexual pleasures? Only someone who was similarly addicted, but they would never do it in their own village. The community was too closely bound and word would spread too quickly.

He surveyed the ridgeline that circled their world. He pondered where the local den of inequity might be located. He thought about wandering the hills looking for it, but realized that was both dangerous and stupid. The odds of finding it were quite low, and the search alone could take days.

He turned back to the desert and settled in to his high, unable to satisfy what his body craved, but content to dream about it. He lay against the rock and closed his eyes. Toosia waited for him in the darkness, and he let her lead him off to a sensual experience. Real or not, it was better than the alternative.

* * * *

Tyler woke stiff on the hillside as the light of the rising sun crept over the eastern horizon. He’d spent the night against the boulder and was stiff from the cold, uncomfortable position. Memories of Toosia faded against the light of day, and Tyler’s head pounded slightly with a hangover.

He dreaded their journey, but decided the occasional forays into the night would be sufficient to sustain him. It would be hard to slip away once they were in the mountains, but he would find a way to pursue his pleasures.

He stretched the ache from his bones and headed toward the temple. He knew many would wonder where he’d been, but he could simply play the doddering fool and let them imagine anything they wanted. There were some advantages to old age, being eccentric was one of them. Seram would know the truth, though he wouldn’t reveal Tyler’s secret to the rest of the Pretals. It was an embarrassment Seram was content to keep hidden.

He found the entrance to the temple open and entered the darkness to the sounds of praying inside the main chapel. All the Pretals were being led in prayer by the Pretare. His name was Minish, and Samil’s memories of him were positive. He was a pious man indeed, and fit the position of Pretare better than any other Pretal. That was why he had been elected to the position by his peers.

Tyler didn’t feel like praying and quietly crept around the edge of the chapel towards the Zerum. Unfortunately Minish saw him enter and called out to him.

“Samil, come join us in prayer before we eat.”

Tyler hesitated but decided it was too early to offend. “Well, yes, I suppose I will.” He moved into the chapel and found a seat to kneel in prayer. He caught a glimpse of Seram on the other side of the room and noted a look of disappointment, or perhaps it was disgust.

His knees hurt from the hard floor and his back ached from sleeping against the rock, but Tyler dutifully ran through the prayers with everyone else. It took half an hour to finish, and Tyler found it difficult to stand up after kneeling so long. At least now they would eat.

It wouldn’t be a grand meal, but more than they would enjoy on the long journey ahead. Tyler was ready to eat his fill that he was certain the village would provide for the traveling holy men. He was not disappointed and was pleasantly surprised at the large mug of ale they also provided. It was not a common thing for people to drink alcoholic beverages, even less so for the religious. Nonetheless, it was provided and Tyler made generous use of it despite raised eyebrows.

As Tyler poured his third mug of the bitters, a Pretal across from him made a comment.

“I see you are thirsty today, Samil. Was your journey last night so hard?” The man smiled as though knowingly, and everyone around the table stared at the interesting turn of events.

Tyler ran through Samil’s memories of the young Pretal who was only two years into his service and was outspoken about abstinence of all kinds. He was looking for a platform to preach against the alcohol and feast before them, but Tyler wasn’t certain he wanted to provide it.

“When you are my age, young man, all journeys are hard.” Tyler stared coldly at the brash upstart.

The young man was apparently not prepared for such a hostile reply and sat dumbfounded before the Pretare took over the awkward silence.

Minish smiled broadly to lighten the mood. “Indeed, it is the young who are better suited to this undertaking, but we all must sacrifice if we are to see our God return. Isn’t that right, Samil?”

Tyler removed his glare from the young Pretal and glanced down at Minish with a smile. “Yes, we all must make sacrifices to see our god return, Minish … some more than others. I, for one, am not ready to take such a long journey in this failing body without ample sustenance. Forgive me if I seem to take more than my share.”

“No need for forgiveness, Samil, it is provided for that very purpose. Please eat and drink as much as you like.” Minish looked satisfied he’d diffused the situation despite the grim look on the young Pretal’s face as he left the table. Tyler knew how difficult it was for young men to be admonished in a group of their peers. He was glad this planet was so peaceful.

Seram shot Tyler a look, but Tyler ignored it and sat back drinking more ale.

“Tell me, Minish, have you or anyone else for that matter actually found the path we will take on our journey?” Tyler wanted to see what this man knew about their trip. Did he have inside knowledge or was he just as blind as the rest of them?

Minish didn’t flinch from the question, but took a moment to answer. “Well, I myself have never seen the path, but I trust it is there as the texts describe.”

“I see, and you have communicated with Malane recently? They are preparing for our arrival as spelled out in our holy texts?” Tyler knew he was treading a thin line, but he was curious how much of this was on faith.

Minish seemed uncomfortable with the questions but refused to back down in front of the Pretals. “No, I have received no communications from Malane, but they are surely preparing for our arrival.” He said it with authority, but Tyler guessed he, too, wondered at the outcome of this pilgrimage.

Another Pretal jumped into the conversation to save the Pretare from defending his faith. “Why do you ask these questions, Samil? Have you no faith Gamel will clear our path and prepare for his faithful to return?”

Obviously, Tyler had struck a sore note. “No, no, I have faith, I am just uncertain how much he has cleared. What if we reach the mountain forests and find no path to lead us? What do we do then? Enter the forest and search for it? That would be a dangerous thing indeed—faith or no faith.”

Minish took charge once more. “I am certain we will find the path, Samil, have no fear. Our God will not abandon us on the eve of his return. Hold to your faith, and we will all be led into the Holy City of Malane to meet Gamel.”

Tyler could here the finality in his words and let the conversation drop. Most around the table sided with Minish’s faith, but Tyler thought he saw doubt in several of the younger men’s faces. They, too, had thought of these things, and even surviving the Trial of Gesh could not remove the fear they felt. Many who entered the forest never returned, so Tyler hoped the path would be there.

* * * *

The following day, the remaining Pretals arrived in Manseer to begin the journey. They were given a day to rest and several good meals to prepare them for the arduous trip. In all, there were Pretals from twenty villages, and since many were recently promoted to Pretal, the total count was thirty-three including the Pretare. It was a large group, and Tyler could imagine thousands of such groups embarking on this long awaited journey to their Holy City.

Tyler was comfortable with their numbers, but he was worried about the difficulty feeding his addiction with so many prying eyes around him. He would find a way, somehow.

After their final day of rest, the group gathered at the front of the temple for one last prayer with the villagers. At that time, the Pretare gave each of the Pretals a small flask of water hung on a chain. It didn’t take a genius to figure out it was much too small to support them through the long trip, but Minish assured them the ancient texts promised the flasks would never run dry as long as they stayed on the path and kept their faith.

The faith part concerned Tyler, because he had no faith in this or any other god. He silently wondered if Gamel was listening to their thoughts. It disturbed him to imagine the god discovering his false identity. He’d have no defense and would certainly be killed outright. If that was the worst that could happen, Tyler believed he could handle the ordeal. That assumed his flask didn’t run dry long before they reached Malane.

After prayers, Minish instructed them on the rules they must follow while on the path. They must never eat any fruit along the path, but only that which they carried with them. They must never sample water from the mountains, but drink only what was provided by their flasks. They must stay on the path at all times except to relieve themselves, and at those times, they must not venture far into the forest or face possible death.

Every warning was ominous, and Tyler wondered how much of it were true. Was there really a path or was it simply an illusion created by the ancient manuscripts? Although Tyler had his doubts about any religious mumbo-jumbo, he decided it was prudent to follow the rules anyway. He knew enough about the Universe to realize there was more than meets the eye. If Gamel were real, then everything in the texts could be true. He knew the saythers were real enough.

It was estimated they would reach the path in several days of hard travel through the mountains. Tyler had no idea how far they would ascend, but he assumed several thousand feet across multiple passes. They had no protection other than the clothes on their backs, and Tyler hoped the weather wasn’t similar to the mountains on Earth. Back home, the weather often moved in unexpectedly, temperatures dropping precipitously.

He had asked Minish about bringing a blanket to protect against the cold nights, but Minish assured him there was no need for such comforts since Gamel would watch over them. Tyler didn’t share the same confidence as Minish and feared Samil’s old body would freeze underneath the thin cloak.

Perhaps that was part of the journey. Like the Trial of Gesh, it was meant to test the faithful and weed out those not fit to meet their god. Tyler believed he had at least one advantage over the others—the strength of his Onyalum spirit.

As he ran through the various ways he could die on this venture, he blindly followed the person ahead of him up a steep slope through a boulder strewn field similar to the one in Kidium. It was the first of many large mountains they would cross before reaching the path, and all the Pretals followed their Pretare in single file up the slope. Thankfully, the ground was dry or they would have had great difficulty maintaining footing. Despite this, Tyler heard an occasional slip ahead and behind.

Samil was adept at this type of terrain, and Tyler found the going relatively easy. He knew it would not stay that way and didn’t look forward to the more difficult stuff ahead. What if they encountered rain or snow? None of these people had seen snow and most had only seen the occasional rain that came to the desert far too infrequent. How would they handle a slick white substance making their ascent virtually impossible?

Tyler decided he needed to stop dwelling on the unpredictable and turn his thoughts to something more pleasant. He pushed the morbid concerns aside and pictured the Vereen straddling him in ecstasy. Though the thought cheered him slightly, the frustration that he would never see her again was more difficult than the journey.

Damn this planet! He thought angrily as he crested the top of a ridge and sat down to rest while the others behind him completed the climb. His back hurt and his legs ached, but overall he felt reasonably decent.

He scanned the surrounding hills and realized there was a steady change in the ecosystem as they climbed higher. Instead of the dry, nearly barren landscape of thorny plants, this mountainside contained small patches of what Tyler assumed were some type of grasses. He wondered if taking anything from this area would result in death or was that only when they reached the path. This certainly wasn’t the forest, so he assumed he could try anything he found.

While the remaining Pretals completed the climb, Tyler walked along the ridgeline to explore some of the new plant life growing around them. He found a small patch of a grass-like plant with tiny blooms and wondered if it was edible. He wished the Vereen were here to help him avoid the poisonous plants. More than once she had alluded to the abundant and deadly plant life that existed higher in the hills. Much of it was used in her products.

Even Samil’s daughter, Sherim, had been well versed in these plants. She had warned others in the village to never attempt collecting plants that they didn’t know about. It was probably a good warning, but it put the onus of knowledge in the hands of a single person and never solved the problem of what to do if that person became ill, injured, or killed. Like the Pretals, the healers would pass their information onto an apprentice, but the role was strictly forbidden for men and they had only very young girls to select from—too young to train.

Tyler took a chance and broke off a small piece of the grass. It smelled earthy, something he missed in the arid environment of the desert. It was still dry up here, but clearly received more moisture if only from the nighttime dew. He put the piece in his mouth and chewed. The taste was initially bitter and Tyler nearly spat it out, but it changed just as suddenly into a mild licorice flavor he enjoyed after the bland food this planet offered.

He put the rest of the blade in his mouth and chewed vigorously like a child with candy. It felt like candy—a treat after his exile in the desert. With the wonderful flavor came a feeling of contentment and vigor. Tyler likened the effect to certain uppers he’d dabbled with on Earth. He approved and quickly stowed as much as he could find into his food pack.

The rules clearly stated you could eat whatever you could carry, and Tyler figured he could carry of lot of the lightweight grass. He rejoined the group after they were rested and ready to begin the next climb.

Tyler surveyed their next stretch and decided the enhancing effects of the grass would be a good thing. They would descend the backside of the ridge before traversing another mountain slope. He had no idea how many of these up and down traversals they had, but the slopes were increasingly steeper the further into the mountains they traveled. He would have to pay attention to footing from here on out. One slip on some of these slopes and you could easily slide or fall to the bottom.

Tyler placed another blade in his mouth and fell in line as they began the descent.

* * * *

The first day was relatively easy as they traversed several mountain ridges. The second day was even easier as they traveled through alpine meadows of grass and flowers. Tyler discovered the grass he collected earlier grew everywhere in the meadows and he gathered it often to give him the strength to continue.

Unfortunately, the end of the second day ended the easy ascent. They just completed cresting another soft mountain meadow and stood beneath a towering cliff of craggy rock shrouded in dense clouds. The gray clouds hugged the dark rock in a wet embrace while obscuring the tops of the towering mountains. All were stunned by the daunting climb that loomed overhead.

This was not a hike but a real climb up a nearly sheer face of rock. They had no ropes, no climbing gear, nothing to aid their ascent or their safety. Tyler heard several gulps as some of the young Pretals realized their journey was about to change for the worse. Tyler knew this would try their faith if nothing else did.

As far as he could see, both east and west, the cliff stood guard against the distant forests hidden beyond the cloud tops. Up till now, the weather was mild, but at this altitude, the temperature dropped noticeably, especially at night. What would it be like high on the cliff when they entered those clouds? Damp, cold, and slick. The Pretals probably didn’t realize it, but Tyler knew from experience.

He had a couple of clients who had once gone on a day hike near Yosemite. They’d gotten half way up when a storm materialized. Out of their group of six, two were struck by lightning but survived, three suffered mild hypothermia, and one died when he lost his footing and slid down a steep slope off a cliff.

Tyler remembered the newscasts after that incident. Search and rescue had helped many stranded, injured, and lost climbers that day. At the time, Tyler had been glad he’d never pursued such dangerous hobbies. He smiled inwardly as they moved toward the base of the imposing cliff.

Minish instructed them to rest while they spent the night at the base before making an ascent the following morning. Tyler didn’t think Minish appeared confident about the climb, but he reassured the men that after this final ascent, they would find the path to their God. Tyler imagined many might find their path to their god was a steep fall from a scary height.

With the cloud cover, Tyler couldn’t estimate how high they would have to climb. Just to reach the bottom of the clouds was at least a couple thousand feet. The people of Gamel were small and their stubby limbs made them excellent climbers, but this looked nearly impossible for anyone but the youngest. Tyler saw concern on several of the older men’s faces, clearly this was more than they had bargained for.

Still, to meet one’s God who you served all your life was a strong motivator. He knew they would attempt the climb, but wondered how many would survive. With no experience, Tyler wasn’t certain he would. One slip and you were dead.

Tyler forced the challenge from his mind and noticed that for the first time since becoming Samil, he saw real trees lining the base of the cliff. They weren’t particularly tall, but to see them was amazing after life on the barren desert. The trees looked like pine, and Tyler watched as several flying creatures and furry climbers moved through the tops. It was unusual to see wildlife on a planet that appeared so lifeless near the villages.

It made Tyler imagine what it would be like as they passed through the clouds into the forest beyond. Although Tyler never hiked or camped, several times he’d been talked into traveling out of Los Angeles into the mountains. He’d been to the Redwood National Forest and still found it amazing something so big and so old could live on Earth. It was an incredible spectacle to see the immensity of those old giants that had withstood fires, earthquakes, and humans.

Would the forest above have trees as large? The texts spoke of fruit and abundant plant life, but what about animals? Other than saythers, what else dwelled inside that pristine forest? Were there other intelligent creatures? Tyler looked forward to the expedition despite the hellish climb that separated them from the distant paradise.

He placed his packs underneath one of the trees and walked off to relieve himself and partake in supplies. Many gave him an unusual look as he neared the trees. He supposed they’d never seen one before and were naturally leery. But after seeing Tyler’s apparent bravado, many began to explore these new forms of plant life, feeling the texture of the bark and picking up the cones that littered the ground.

Tyler left them behind to explore far from the other Pretals. It was only two days into their journey, and he was already tiring of their company. If it was to take months to reach Malane, Tyler would have to start using products more regularly to withstand the boredom. He couldn’t understand why people thought climbing mountains or hiking in forests was so appealing. Clearly there were impressive views, but what did you do when that got old?

Relieved and comfortable, Tyler found a nice patch of grass underneath a dense stand of trees. He pulled out his paraphernalia and loaded the pipe with the powerful substances. If he had to be sober for the climb tomorrow, he would be high the night before. He leaned against a tree and inhaled the acrid smoke, his mind drifting to the far off cavern he’d never see again.

* * * *

Smoke burned Tyler’s eyes as he blinked into the darkness. The smell of burning meat or flesh was overwhelming and Tyler grew ill from the stench. He held his hands out as he moved through the darkness attempting to find his way out of the hellish environment. He knew it was another nightmare haunting his sleep, but the knowledge did not make the situation easier to cope with.

He’d fallen asleep and dreamed of this awful place reeking with burnt death. A distant glow lit his path, and he quickly recognized a corridor made from the stone used in the village temples. His mind replayed that awful nightmare in the large temple of saythers, and a deep chill spread through his body. Was this the same place? What ghoulish scene would he have to endure this time?

The glow came from a doorway that opened into a larger area Tyler immediately recognized as the large temple from his nightmare. The glow came from the raised platform and a fire spewing the sickening smells that choked his throat and burned his eyes. It was difficult to tell what was burning from his position, but the foul scent told him it wasn’t wood.

Realizing he had to play the dream out, he moved toward the fire while searching for the saythers he knew were there. His side of the fire was empty, but he understood it was only a matter of time before the nightmare really began. The fire roared high into the dark air, hissing and popping from the mysterious fuel that fed its flames.

As Tyler neared, the intense heat generated nearly overwhelmed him. Though it felt like an oven, he moved closer to see what fueled the flames to their dizzying heights. He drew near and could just make out individual pieces that burned white hot. As he feared, various body parts fed the immense blaze, and he quickly turned to vomit on the cold floor.

Why did he have to see this? He moved farther from the flames, covering his mouth to filter the horrible smoke. As he slipped back into the dark edge of the room, he heard a chant from somewhere on the other side of the flames. It was too distant to understand the words, but Tyler was drawn to its rhythmic sounds.

He inched around the outer edge until he spotted movement. A young woman stood with her back to the fire, chanting in the ancient language. Samil understood some of the ancient words, but Tyler couldn’t hear all of them over the roar of the fire.

As the woman chanted, dark saythers threw dead bodies onto the flames. In the light of the gruesome fire, the saythers appeared evil, and Tyler kept his back against the outer wall to hide his presence. He continued inching along the wall to see the face of the chanting woman.

As the flames grew higher, her volume and tempo increased. She cried into the darkness as if the end of the world was near and only she could stop it with her voice. Finally in position, he rubbed his eyes to erase the visage screaming in the ancient language. Joriss stood with arms outstretched wearing a blank look as she urged the saythers to continue feeding the flames with the dead bodies.

Neither she nor the saythers saw him as he quietly watched the horrid event. Why was Joriss with the saythers? Was this another nightmare or was he seeing a vision? Some said people saw visions of the future while using perneem, but Tyler assumed that was only imagination. Still, the nightmares persisted, and he was haunted by the realization they may yet come to pass.

Joriss stopped suddenly, turning to stare directly at Tyler. He froze as her dark eyes pierced him, devoid of compassion or recognition. She pointed at Tyler while speaking to the saythers in the ancient language.

Two saythers broke away and moved in Tyler’s direction. Crap, he could never outrun the beasts. Still, it was only a nightmare, and he would wake once again though his psyche might not come through unmarred. He willed himself awake, but the oncoming saythers pre-occupied his every thought. He backed away from the pending claws of death, his chest burning as they neared. He fell to his knees covering his head as if to ward off the dreadful demons.

“Joriss! It’s me, Samil … call them off!” He pleaded as they were on him. In response, she resumed her chant, this time her words clearly signaling them to place Tyler in the flames.

They grasped his arms and legs dragging him toward the fire. Tyler became desperate. “Hey, no … no, I’d rather get torn to shreds … no fire please!”

He felt the intense heat as they neared the edge of the towering pyre. The saythers smiled with toothy grins as they lifted him off the ground like a sack of potatoes.

“Joriss, no … don’t do this … it’s me, Samil!”

He screamed as they launched him into the flames, his cloak catching fire instantly from the intense heat. He was quickly engulfed by the white hot flames and felt his flesh peel and crisp with an intensity he’d never experienced. The blackened skin curled back from his muscles as his eyes boiled in the furnace of dead flesh. He tried to wake up, but the pain would not abate.

He pulled his body feebly across the bones of the others trying to find the outer edge of the inferno, but his useless legs trapped him as they tangled with the fleshless corpses. The searing pain tore through his soul while he waited for the eventual release from his nightmare. He opened his mouth to scream, but only white hot agony poured forth from his consumed body.

* * * *

Tyler’s screams woke him as he rolled onto his back shaking with sweat. Damn these nightmares! He was beginning to find the sleep world as desolate and horrible as his waking one. What escape was perneem really providing?

He watched the night sky as millions of twinkling stars laughed at his predicament. He could always return to the life of an Onyalum, wandering aimlessly without purpose or body. Would it be better to suffer silently alone, or continue to endure the hellish nightmares? Nobody answered his troubling question.

Though the dream disturbed him, he tried to find meaning. Why was Joriss the one that had condemned him to the fiery hell? Why did she speak the language of the ancients and communicate with those awful saythers? Was it real or was it some amalgamation of his life on Gamel? Or was it only an evil side effect of the powerful narcotic? He knew heroin addicts were often plagued by horrible nightmares, but they were usually relieved after taking their drug. His kept getting worse.

He prayed he hadn’t missed the ascent to the holy path, but was certain it was still the same day. He trudged back to the rest of the Pretals who’d become used to his periodic absences. He knew many disapproved, but none were bold enough to confront him.

He entered the clearing where most of the Pretals lay, rolled in their cloaks asleep. He found the tree with his pack and drank some water from his flask. Amazingly, it hadn’t run dry, and Tyler was beginning to think there was more to the mumbo-jumbo than he’d first imagined.

Tyler made a makeshift pillow with his ancient text and food pack, laying down wrapped in his cloak. He didn’t think sleep would come after his nightmare, but the nighttime cold was more than he was prepared to experience awake.

A voice whispered through the darkness and Tyler sat up. One of the young Pretals had apparently seen him return.

“Samil, where have you been? Did you find another way up the cliff? A way that is safe?”

Tyler couldn’t remember the young man’s name, but understood his fear. Why did he think Samil would look for another route? To date, Tyler had clearly acted with only his own interests in mind. This young man was naive.

“No, I didn’t find another route up.”

“Oh.” The young man sounded disappointed. “Do you think we will make it to the top?” His question was tentative, and he was clearly concerned about showing doubt in his faith.

Tyler wanted him to shut up, but felt compelled to help quell the man’s fears. “Our faith has brought us this far, it will carry us the rest of the way. Sleep—you will need your rest.”

The man fell silent at Tyler’s words, but Tyler suspected he would not sleep. It was a daunting task they faced, and even Tyler had doubts all would survive—faith or no faith.

* * * *

Minish roused everyone early, and Tyler was surprised he’d fallen back asleep. Thankfully, the nightmares had receded, and he felt surprisingly fresh.

They were to prepare for the ascent based on a non-stop trek up a sheer face with no breaks until they reached the top. Minish made sure everyone understood that once they started, it would be virtually impossible to stop to rest. It would be a difficult ordeal, and Tyler was certain no one in their group had ever attempted such a feat.

They gathered in a large group to discuss their preparations as Minish confirmed he’d scouted a crevice that stretched high into the clouds. He believed they could fit inside the crack and climb safely within its confines.

“As I have already told you, I believe this crevice will be our best route to reach the top. It is large enough to accommodate our size, and with protection on two sides, we should be safer when we reach the clouds.”

Minish sounded confident, but Tyler could detect a note of concern, especially when he looked at the elder members of the group. Tyler was one of those elder members, but he felt surprisingly up to the task. Not fearing death had upsides.

One of the younger members voiced concerns about packs. “What are we to do with our sacred texts and food packs? Won’t they get in our way around our neck and shoulders?”

Minish looked confused. “Well … yes, I suppose they might get in our way. Perhaps we should tuck them inside our cloaks so they don’t swing or accidentally drop.”

Tyler realized they were lost. He was no expert, but it was clear their cloaks would be just as cumbersome as the packs. He quickly offered advice.

“Pretare, if I might make a suggestion?”

Minish was relieved someone was going to come to his aid. “Yes, Pretal Samil, please share your wisdom with us.”

Tyler looked at the scared faces around him and decided he better take charge. At least he had the experience of the Admiral at his beck and call; it was more than the clergy around him could offer.

“I believe we will find it difficult to maneuver with our cloaks on, especially while our packs are underneath. We should remove our cloaks and use them to bind our packs to our back.”

A younger Pretal countered in disbelief. “But we will freeze when we reach the clouds! I am already cold, and we haven’t even started!”

Tyler saw heads move in agreement as they pulled their cloaks tighter.

“I understand your concern, but it is far more dangerous with them than without. The climb is very long and will tax every fiber of our bodies. I promise you, unless you stop, you will not be cold.”

Minish looked convinced and jumped to Tyler’s aid. “Very good, Samil, I agree with your assessment, we must all bind our gear with our cloaks.”

Most would listen to the Pretare, but Tyler saw many who were unconvinced. One such man spoke up irreverently. It was the same one Tyler had put down at the dinner before leaving Manseer. Apparently, he was still angry from that exchange.

“And what makes you an expert, Samil?” He asked with malice in his voice. “Have you been cliff climbing every time you disappear?”

It was too early to argue with someone so young, so Tyler ignored the bait. “I am simply stating common sense.”

The faces around them looked nervous at the turn in events. Even Minish was confused by the volatile atmosphere. But he wasn’t going to let the division ruin their journey. “Please, Juril, let’s not argue about it. Samil is kind enough to share his insights. You may either take his advice or not. I can’t make you do it.”

Juril wasn’t appeased. “Then I won’t! The rest of you are more than welcome to freeze on the climb!”

Tyler thought Juril was crazy, but sometimes the young would only learn through mistakes. Tyler thought this experience might be his last lesson. He made a mental note to make sure Juril was behind him. Without ropes, if a person fell, everyone behind him was at risk.

Minish looked undaunted and relieved the tension was averted. “Very well, Juril. Any of you may prepare as you see fit.” He paused as if to think about what else they needed to do. “Ah, yes, well, we must prepare by eating well, and drinking fluids. We will not likely have an opportunity to do that once we start climbing. Also, make sure you empty yourselves beforehand. I, for one, don’t relish the idea of needing to go when I am thousands of feet above the ground. Let’s meet at the crevice in a short while after we have prepared.”

He signaled to the east, and Tyler spotted the crevice they would take. It was a fairly defined fracture in the cliff that snaked its way high into the clouds.

“For those who wish to bind their gear to their backs, please see Samil or myself when you are ready.” Minish shook his head in confirmation, and Tyler responded in kind. He didn’t relish teaching them how to do it, but then he didn’t want the men to die. It was a small contribution he could make to the journey—he hoped it would be his last.

* * * *

An hour later, everyone gathered at the base of the crevice snaking into the cloud tops. Up close, it was clearly the ideal path to take, and Tyler thought parts of it looked more like a ladder than sheer rock face. He felt confident they could actually complete this leg of the journey despite the rigorous ascent. Some of the men who’d been scared earlier looked more at ease when confronted with the actual task.

Tyler had eaten his fill and drank down a handful of the licorice grass with water from his never ending flask. After a long break behind some trees, he felt ready to begin. He was still a bit jittery from the grass’s effects, but he knew he would need the powerful substance if he was to have enough strength to complete the climb.

His Onyalum spirit was ready and able, but Samil’s body wasn’t. He thought about another heart attack but decided there was nothing he could do about it. If it happened, c’est la vie.

When everyone finally gathered, Tyler took fifteen minutes to describe the best way to bind their gear. He had them spread out their cloaks on the ground and place their packs and texts at the bottom of the cloak in a straight line. Grabbing the bottom of the cloak, they rolled the entire contents up to the arm pit of the sleeves. It was simple, yet effective.

By pulling one sleeve underneath one arm and one over the other shoulder, you could tie the entire bundle to your back in a relatively comfortable way. At least nothing would be loose or interfere with the climb. Losing either your food or your flask would be a death sentence.

Tyler noted Juril and several others he’d recruited ignored the bindings and simply moved their gear beneath their cloaks. They would be warm, but their movements would be hampered by their cloaks. He hoped they were lucky enough to make it. Once started, they couldn’t change their minds.

Everyone seemed content with their bindings so Minish lined them up for the climb. Tyler fell in the middle and was relieved to see Juril and his followers at the back of the line. They’d complained, but Minish admonished them that their cloaks obscured the handholds for others behind them. They were unhappy but not prepared to go against their Pretare. They moved to the back of the line grimly, and Tyler gave them a tiny smile as they passed.

With Minish leading the way, they started the climb one by one. Tyler began his ascent and found the crevice filled with adequate foot and handholds. It was like climbing a ladder and they made good time to the base of the clouds.

It was impossible to see through the dense fog, and Tyler didn’t relish the final leg of the climb. It would be blind, cold, and wet, and no one knew how high they still had to go. He watched as Minish disappeared into the thick white ceiling, and braced himself for the experience.

So far, the exertions kept Tyler sufficiently warm. The crevice protected them from much of the wind, but Tyler knew the damp clouds would soak them quickly. It was one more reason not to wear their cloaks. When wet, the cloak would become extremely heavy and dangerous. At least bound to their back, they would remain mostly dry, so the extra weight would be minimal.

So far no one had difficulties, but Tyler heard more than a few slips, and each time, the person quickly recovered before disaster took them to their god earlier than planned. Despite the easy holds, Tyler felt the stress taking its toll on his fingers and joints. Samil was not young, and his body protested against the unusual exertions placed upon it. He ignored the pain as best he could while eating more grass to steady his nerves and give him energy.

He watched the person enter the cold clouds ahead of him and tensed in anticipation of the temperature drop. As expected, the cold, thick mist obscured everything except the person directly ahead and behind. Even sounds became muted, and Tyler was uncertain if anyone would have heard Minish if he had called out.

The moisture clung thickly to his skin and soaked him thoroughly. It felt as if they’d been climbing for hours, and he was tiring as he steadily lost strength. Even the extra grass didn’t ease the difficulties of the climb. The person ahead began slowing, and Tyler welcomed the new pace despite the increasing cold.

After a while, his movements became routine, and he climbed on auto-pilot while his thoughts wandered to perneem and the pleasures it provided. He thought about Joriss and yearned to have her near him, warming his body against the bitter cold of the clouds. Though it was only fantasy, the diversion made the time go faster.

At one point, Tyler thought he’d heard something far below. It had sounded like a rock slide, and although he couldn’t be sure, he may have heard a scream. But the clouds were eerily quiet, and he couldn’t be certain if the sounds had been real or just his imagination running wild. He ignored the incident and continued moving higher up the cliff.

They finally came to a particularly dense patch in the clouds, and Tyler noticed the person ahead suddenly disappear. Were they at the top? What happened? He quickened his pace and was rewarded by a set of hands reaching out to help him up. Darkness was descending, and the fog was so thick he couldn’t make out the faces offering hands. He grabbed them nonetheless and pulled himself out of the crevice onto a rock ledge.

It didn’t feel like they had reached the top. Could this be the road? A voice called from the fog and the hands urged him towards the edge of the cliff. Tyler walked tentatively towards the voice until a dark opening materialized. He entered the welcoming shelter and was quickly ushered by a young Pretal who’d been calling to him.

Inside the cave, the cold sank into his bones and Tyler moved as far from the entrance as possible. Most of the others sat around the small cave with their packs unbound and cloaks wrapped tight against the cold. Tyler joined them with great relief. His body shook mildly, and his joints ached from years of abuse.

He found a spot next to another, older Pretal who Tyler knew as Samesh. Quickly unwrapping his cloak, he pulled it back on, relieved to find it nearly as dry as his gear. He curled into a ball and leaned against Samesh.

“We made it, Samesh, perhaps we are not as old as we feel.” Tyler shivered but smiled at the Pretal.

“You are right, Samil, I never thought I would survive that part of the journey. Perhaps Gamel is watching over us and ensuring we make it safely.”

Tyler doubted it, but held his tongue. Samesh was a good man, and like Samil, he’d recently retired after his apprentice completed the Trial of Gesh. Tyler spotted the man’s apprentice across the cave talking with another Pretal. He wondered about Seram, but Samesh commented he was helping others onto the ledge.

Tyler was glad they had young Pretals capable of helping. In his current state, his assistance would likely be more of a hindrance.

He took out a small bottle from inside his cloak and drank a tiny sip of the thick liquid. Instant warmth spread through his body as his mind yielded to a calming numbness. It was one of the Vereen’s miracle drugs Tyler normally reserved for his withdrawal symptoms. It was a mild narcotic, but Tyler found he could function quite well under its influence.

He held the bottle out to Samesh. “Here, drink this. It will make you feel better.”

“What is it?” Samesh asked dubiously.

Tyler lied. “It is something my daughter, Sherim, made for me. It takes away the aches in my joints.” Samesh knew Samil’s daughter and would trust anything she made. Tyler felt guilty for the lie but he knew Samesh would thank him later.

“Only take a small sip.” Tyler warned as Samesh put it to his lips. “A little goes a long way.”

Samesh handed the bottle back and looked surprised as warmth spread through his body.

“Thank you, Samil, I feel better already.” Samesh hugged himself into his cloak and leaned back, relaxing.

They silently watched as more Pretals poured through the opening, arranging themselves in any open space left within the cave. Finally, Minish and the others entered, and Tyler noted their numbers seemed smaller than the original party. Who was missing?

Minish answered his unspoken question. “I have some bad news. We fear Juril and the other Pretals did not make it.”

Tyler remembered the sounds he’d heard. Perhaps they’d been real. Tyler understood how the men would have struggled with their wet cloaks weighing them down. If the lead man slipped, the others would never be able to stop his fall. Like dominos, all would plunge down the face of the cliff to their deaths below.

Tyler shuddered when he thought about it. It could have easily been any one of them. He was relieved Minish had forced them to the end of the line; otherwise, many more might have perished. He hadn’t liked Juril, but he would never wish that kind of death on anyone.

The mood in the cave was somber and few spoke in the awkward silence. What could be said? The young men had been warned, but they didn’t heed the advice of their elders. Often, you could survive that rebellion, but sometimes, you did not. Tyler thought back to Earth and The Darwin Awards. He’d said it himself many times when describing the periodic overdose of a client. He felt bad about their deaths, but he also felt relieved it hadn’t been him. Somehow, their deaths made him feel invincible, as though something made him special.

He knew it to be false, but the feeling persisted even as he sat shivering in the dark cave. Better them than me!

A stricken Minish knelt on the ground, apparently his own strength drained by their loss. It was never easy losing the young, especially during a pilgrimage to their Holy City. It felt wrong and once again raised doubts in one’s beliefs.

“Let us pray for their souls so that Gamel will welcome them into Jurane, despite their folly.” He said as he bowed his head.

Everyone bowed in deference and followed Minish in a long funeral prayer. Tyler prayed absently as numbness spread through his body easing him to sleep. He noticed Samesh beginning to fall asleep and hoped he hadn’t given the older man too much. It was a powerful drug, especially if you’d never taken it before.

The prayer finally ended and Minish rose to his feet.

“I have found a path that leads up the cliff face. We will not have to climb, but the path is narrow, so we must all be careful. At least we should be able to wear our cloaks. We should stop here for the night to sleep before continuing.”

Tyler saw exhaustion written on everyone’s face and figured they’d all sleep like the dead. He would at least try. As he prepared a place to lie down, he spotted Seram near the entrance. The young man wore a look of anger, and Tyler wondered if it was directed at him or at Juril and the other idiots who hadn’t listened.

For a moment, their eyes locked, and Tyler thought he detected a look of regret that he’d made it while the others had not. Do you want me dead, Seram? That is not very holy! You think it would have been better me than them? Tough luck!

Tyler laid down and tried to make the best of a cold, damp bed. Completely exhausted, he fell into a hard sleep.

* * * *

Tyler woke to someone curled behind him. At first, he imagined he was in the cavern with Joriss, but as his eyes adjusted to the gloomy light, he quickly remembered where he was. It was odd to have Samesh curled into him, but he knew the shared body heat had made their night bearable.

It was cold and very little light shone through the dark opening. Tyler spotted others waking, so he got up to relieve himself. He picked his way through the scattered bodies and went out into the cold gray that hid their destination. Cautiously, his back against the cliff, he inched his way slowly to the left of the entrance. He felt his way with an outstretched foot.

Finally convinced he’d found the edge, he relieved himself of what little fluids remained in his body. He hurt from lying on the cold ground but felt remarkably well considering the difficult climb they’d completed. At least they wouldn’t need to do that again—he hoped.

He went back inside the cave and found Seram standing at the entrance snacking on dried cake.

“Good morning, Seram, or is it evening?” Tyler wasn’t certain. Considering how tired they were, they could easily have slept an entire day.

Seram looked at him blankly. “I don’t know. I think it is morning.”

Tyler kept walking. Clearly Seram didn’t want to talk with his mentor. The death of the young men was still too fresh. Tyler spotted Minish and walked over to help him from the ground.

“Thank you, Samil, I truly feel my age today.” He admitted sullenly.

Tyler could imagine the loss of the Pretals hung heavy on the man’s shoulders. He was certain Minish blamed himself for their deaths. He could easily have ordered them to bind their gear with the rest, but that wasn’t Minish’s style. He was no great leader of men, but a great spiritual leader who had great compassion for the people he led. Tyler decided Minish would carry the scars of this journey till the day he died.

It’s a harsh Universe, Minish. Tyler thought coldly.

Eventually, everyone woke from their sleep and took care of immediate needs. While they prepared to depart, the clouds began to clear, and rays of light occasionally broke through the gray, spreading false warmth that was a welcome change from the damp mist. The periodic shafts of light raised everyone’s spirits despite the difficulties they’d sustained.

Most accepted the fate of their fallen comrades and held onto the belief that Gamel would take them into Jurane to spend eternity by his side. Tyler wondered whether such a thing existed. Why make heaven if you could simply create a perfect world?

Tyler never understood religion, although he was the first to admit he had never studied it. It seemed illogical to create a heaven that could only be attained by living in a hell beforehand. What was the purpose? To weed out the unworthy? Then why allow unworthy people to be created? It was a puzzle he’d never solve.

He felt certain Thosolan didn’t have such a system but knew many religions back on Earth had. He had his own problems to contend with and didn’t need those associated with a mythical after-life. As far as he was concerned, this was his after-life.

By the time everyone was prepared for the next leg of the journey, the sun was fully out. Each man took turns looking down the cliff face, hoping to see signs of what had happened to Juril and his followers. Unfortunately, even though they were in the clear, clouds still obscured the ground below. It was a strange and unique feeling being so far above the cloud tops, looking down on their misty carpet. As far as Tyler could see, unbroken clouds stretched from the mountains to a distant horizon towards the sea to the south.

The sun quickly dried their clothing, and everyone was ready to find the ancient path to the Holy City. Minish led them up the narrow ledge, and they could finally see what must be the top. For Tyler, it was a blessing to get back on more solid footing.

As they reached the top, they were stunned by the perfectly carved path cutting through the mountain forest. It wrapped along the mountain heading east while occasionally dipping out of sight because of the dense vegetation. Tyler could only describe the surrounding forest as jungle.

The trees and vines hung heavily over the path obscuring the sky, while leaving the ground remarkably clear. Nothing littered the actual road despite the encroaching vegetation uphill and abundance overhead.

Everyone was dumbstruck by the obvious bounty they could not partake in. It was a paradise compared to the barren desert they’d come from. Tyler thought back to River Red and had a momentary urge to run through the dense vegetation, free and wild. He held back his enthusiasm while remembering Minish’s warnings. saythers dwelled in the forest, and that was enough to keep him on the path.

Minish gathered them for prayer and final warnings before they traversed the mysterious path. As the thirty men fell in line, Tyler smiled at the bizarre thought of the Wizard of Oz. We’re off to see the wizard! He put another blade of grass in his mouth and fell in line.

* * * *

They traveled for over two weeks, and the path remained as boring as it was mysterious. Forest debris never littered the path, and the contour of the ground remained exactly the same regardless of where you were. Periodically, they heard or saw rain in the forest, but it never penetrated the overhead canopy protecting the path. Tyler found it truly remarkable but was pleased they would remain dry throughout the journey.

Many of the Pretals already ran low on food, and Tyler noted more than a couple eyeing the low hanging fruit overhead. It was certainly tempting, but Tyler rather enjoyed the new, more vigorous Samil that had been created from the rigors. Not only did he feel better than before his heart attack, he’d lost weight which made the going easier and his step lighter.

A side benefit was the extraordinary highs he experienced while enjoying his private stash. He often partook nearly all day and still found he could easily keep up with the younger Pretals. It was the surest way to avoid the monotonous boredom the never ending path provided.

Most eyed him warily as he smiled and laughed along their trek. Everyone else wore somber expressions, apparently fighting their own inner demons of faith. As hunger became more real, he imagined many of the Pretals began to question their god’s protection. What would happen when they ran out of food? Could they continue indefinitely with only their faith to sustain them? It would be like the Trial of Gesh, a part of their life most wanted to forget.

Only the newer Pretals seemed unaffected by the rigorous journey as their memory of the trial was still so fresh. Without the searing desert sun, it was like a brisk walk in the park. With their faith recently renewed, their experience on the trial would carry them unto the very brink of death.

Not so the older Pretals. Apparently they’d grown soft and complacent over the years, and this journey was refreshing their memories of the unpleasant realities of their religion. What remaining faith they possessed would soon be tested as food ran out.

Tyler smiled inwardly. He’d seen death often enough and was comfortable with the stark existence they endured. For Tyler, the monotony was far worse than hunger. Fortunately, he’d prepared.

He even began reading from the text he’d brought, fascinated by the world that had once existed. Apparently, Gamel had once possessed thriving societies that included technology, at least more than today, and trade was the basis of that ancient economy from the highest mountains to the ocean coastlines. It was strange to read about something that had been so wonderful but now looked like a never ending purgatory.

In Tyler’s drug clouded mind, he wondered what god could bring his people down to such a place. Why would a god want to punish his creations and take away the very pleasures that made life worth living? What could heaven or Jurane as they called it offer a soul that had foregone all pleasures during life? A spiritual uplifting surpassing anything the body could experience? After speaking with Thosolan, he could not imagine such a thing existed.

One thing was certain, their barren subsistence was destroying their ability to reproduce. He was convinced the drop in reproduction was not generalized to a particular region but was widespread around the planet. Their diet was particularly poor, and Tyler imagined the harsh plants lacked vitamins and minerals essential to a healthy body. They were alive, but on the brink of extinction.

He thought about the Vereen and her ability to prevent pregnancy despite the hedonistic propensity towards sex. It was counter to the rest of society, and they were clearly far outside the religious tenets prescribed to the rest of the population. If they could modify the body to prevent pregnancy, could they modify it to cause pregnancy? Considering their detailed knowledge of the pharmacological properties of the planet’s plant life, Tyler thought it was not outside the realm of possibility.

But would they ever use that knowledge? Tyler wasn’t versed in the inner workings of their cult, but neither he nor Samil had ever seen anything to suggest a desire to propagate. Surely there was more to their religion than simple pleasures? Did they desire the extinction of the existing culture so they could replace it with a new religion espousing health and prosperity? Clearly they possessed the power to change the course of history with narcotics, but had they already been doing that for the last five thousand years?

But what about the pilgrimage to Malane? He knew the Vereen believed in Gamel, but did she believe he would return to the Holy City? If she did, how could their way of life continue in the face of such power?

They were difficult questions, but Tyler found himself seduced by the intrigue. If the old text contained real dreams about a distant reality before Gamel had abandoned his people, then the planet had once been a paradise. Their religion espoused a belief in a paradise that would come with the return of their god. Did the followers of the cult believe something similar? He wished he’d asked more questions when he’d been with the Vereen. But during those encounters, his mind focused on only one thing, and it wasn’t religion or intellectual conversation.

No one knew for certain how long they would follow the path, and Tyler was surprised to discover no detailed maps existed. None of the ancient texts provided as much as a single diagram, so he was likely the only one who knew the northern and southern hemispheres were mirror images of each other.

He thought about thousands of villages circling the mountains and was curious why no other groups, or signs of other groups, were seen along the path. It was the only path mentioned in the texts, and by Tyler’s estimates, there were thousands of such groups making their way to the Holy City.

Would they all meet somewhere along the way, or was Malane the only place they could congregate? It was an odd feeling to know so many people traveled along the same route but never saw each other. Was this just another mystery of this path? He likened it to the yellow brick road, wondering what new surprises they might uncover around the next bend. But each time they rounded the next bend, it was the same as the previous one.

The group finally stopped for the day, and each man picked a spot on the trail to bunk down for the night. Tyler always selected a place on the left side of the path where a small embankment provided a reasonable back rest. The ground was uniformly hard, but Tyler found sleeping at an incline took much of the stress off his upper body’s pressure points. Considering Samil’s age, this was a necessity.

Tyler sat down and took stock of his supplies. He was disappointed to discover he was nearly out of the licorice flavored grass that had sustained him for so long. The plant didn’t grow anywhere along the path, and he assumed it was strictly local to the foothills at the base of the cliff. What would he do when it ran out?

Since everything surrounding the path was technically part of the forest, they were forbidden to remove any part of it. Tyler had spotted hundreds of varieties of plants peeking out of the forest and assumed many provided a rich ability to sustain the travelers. However, Tyler wasn’t yet ready to tempt fate. His newfound interest in the planet and its future kept him on the golden path of righteousness, for now. Well, at least righteousness as he defined it.

He still had a majority of his food, and his stash of narcotics was surprisingly full. He felt like the drugs were a never ending supply like the mysterious water in their flasks, but he knew they would eventually run out. After that, he would truly be at a loss. Samil’s body hungered for the drugs, and without them Tyler would go through a hellish withdrawal.

He forced those thoughts from his mind as he re-packed his supplies and settled into the embankment. The path wound its way along the cliff’s edge and Tyler stared across the vast foothills stretching into the misty horizon. Somewhere below, villages dotted the edge of the desert as people, bereft of their spiritual leaders, moved on with their lives as best they could

It was a scary time for the common man. Would their god return? Would their religious leaders return? If they did, would they bring back the promised bounty? So much rode on the backs of these Pretals, Tyler was glad Seram took over Kidium. Tyler’s position was like a consultant, there if needed, but not required.

He didn’t plan on returning anyway, god or no god, but he wished the villagers well. They treated him warily after Seram took over, but he had never experienced open hostilities. They were simple folk wanting a simple life. He wished they would be granted their prosperity and be given the opportunity to thrive. But unless their god returned, they would never thrive unless they found a way to take advantage of the forest’s forbidden bounty.

Considering the Vereen’s rich cupboard of plant extracts, he often wondered whether the cult harvested plants from the forest. The Vereen never admitted such a thing, but it seemed unlikely everything they used was found in the lower foothills and desert. Samil’s memories of Sherim’s medicines indicated a far smaller stock than the Vereen’s. Granted, the Vereen sought plants that produced narcotic effects for ritual orgies, but she was also a wonderful healer. Tyler doubted he would have survived the heart attack under Sherim’s care.

He looked at the canopy overhead and spotted at least four different fruit. Flowers on the trees tempted with exotic perfumes beckoning with the sweetness of the fruit they provided. Sitting idly below this cornucopia made it all the more tempting, but Tyler held onto his resolve. Better to ingest his narcotics.

He slid one of the small bottles from his inner pocket and took a tiny sip. He felt an immediate warming sensation as the drug spread through his body. Like back in the damp cave, it eased his aching joints and numbed him to the constant boredom.

He knew Minish would soon lead them in prayer, but Tyler had some time to kill beforehand. He opened his text and began reading where he’d left off. The current passage described a dream in which people of the ancient planet built beautiful temples to their god. Back then, the world was filled with skilled artisans who erected monumental shrines and filled them with wonderful mosaics.

Tyler read, numb, fascinated, and glad he didn’t have to be sober for their journey. In his dull mind, he began to imagine the journey might just end well after all.

* * * *

Another three weeks passed, and even Tyler’s drug stash failed to prevent the overwhelming boredom consuming them. Tyler spotted desperate looks on some of the Pretal’s faces, and after a while, some even got short with each other over trivial things, like where to bed down.

Tyler ignored their exchanges but knew many were close to cracking. Five weeks on the path and there was no indication they had made any significant progress towards their goal. Tyler thought their villages might easily be on the other side of the planet from Malane and realized with horror they could have many months ahead.

None of the religious texts mentioned extraordinary lengths of travel to get to Malane, but Tyler understood the scope of a planet’s size and wondered. The date of the god’s return was well known, and each Pretare was given a specific date to leave on the journey, so apparently the distance and time had been calculated. If that were true, then they still had a couple months before the actual return of their god.

Tyler didn’t think they would make it if they weren’t yet half way. He knew many of the Pretals were running low on food, and the hanging fruit overhead taunted them as they passed underneath. Tyler still possessed half his food, but he noticed the hunger pangs grew more intense each day. He was lean, muscular, and more fit than Samil had ever been, but that only put additional demands on the body for sustenance.

Although he had never experienced an increased appetite from drug use, he often found some of the Vereen’s drugs created a powerful hunger. He’d since limited their use or stopped altogether. He knew he would get through the hunger, but the never ending lack of change was taking its toll. Even Minish was affected by the long and tedious journey.

They had stopped on one of the parts of the path where the forest surrounded them on both sides. It was dark despite sunset being far off, but the long stretch through the forest forced Minish to stop for the day. Tyler sat against the embankment and listened to the forest around them.

He’d finished his book and found it difficult to sit idly while waiting for the next day. Sleep was easy enough, but the nightmares were increasing in frequency. More than once he woke in a sweat while ghoulish images of bloody massacres filled his mind’s eye. After each episode, he found he could not return to sleep. He was feeling the effects of sleep deprivation, and it only added to the tortuous passage.

The forest hummed with the normal sounds of animals and what Tyler assumed were birds. It was strange how the forest was often filled with a cacophony of animal cries while at other times it was eerily silent. During those quiet stretches, Tyler peered warily into the dense foliage, expecting the red glow of sayther eyes. Thankfully, the saythers were still only in his imagination.

He spotted Seram talking with Minish and wondered if the young man was plotting to gain rank within the church. Tyler never imagined Seram as ambitious, but his constant discussions with Minish were beginning to get suspicious.

Seram walked away as Minish called them to order.

“Gentlemen, we must hold ourselves together through this trying journey. Our good friend, Pretal Seram, has given me a suggestion for how we might spend these late day periods in a positive way.”

Minish looked hopeful, but another Pretal spoke up belligerently. “Has he a suggestion for what we’ll do when our hunger is too much to bear?” The young man looked about defiantly, trying to rally others to his cause. “Perhaps more prayer will satisfy our hunger!”

Minish’s face drooped as he was forced to combat the growing division in their ranks. “Please, Manit, this won’t help us complete our monumental trip. Gamel tests us and we must not fail if we are to succeed. Think about your village and the hopes your people have.”

Manit would not back down. “Yeah, I’m thinking about my village all right—I’m thinking about a nice warm fire, some ale, and a full meal. I can’t take another night on this damned trail of boredom with an empty stomach.”

“Please, Manit, you can share some of my food if you need it.” Minish pleaded with the young man to no avail.

“I don’t want your pity Pretare. I want to know when this will end!”

Tyler noted other men nodded in agreement. They weren’t willing to voice their opinions audibly, but they clearly held similar grievances.

“I don’t offer you pity, Manit, I offer you faith. Did that not sustain you on your Trial of Gesh?”

“Sure, when I was young and stupid! I have faith, Minish—I have faith we are all going to die out here.”

The comment stung as the Minish realized he was losing his flock. Their faith was being tested, and many were no longer up to the challenge. Tyler thought Manit was premature with his complaints. If they weren’t even half way, what would happen in another three weeks? Mutiny? Would the Pretals succumb to their bodily desires and take from the forest?

A part of Tyler liked the exchange, at least it wasn’t boring. But would it come to blows? Normally, the people of Gamel were peaceful and non-violent, but under such stress, Tyler imagined anything could happen. It was one thing to be pious and faithful inside Temple walls, but another out in the open, exposed to the harshness of their world.

“We will not die, Manit, as long as we all take care of each other and maintain our faith in Gamel. Please, let us try Seram’s suggestion. It may help overcome our doubts.”

Manit was disgusted and threw his hand up in front of him. “You try his suggestion. I want no part of it!”

Manit turned and walked back along the trail from where they’d come. Another Pretal, apparently siding with Manit, followed him down the forest corridor until they went around the bend and disappeared.

Tyler wondered if the two men would try to make their way back home. Tyler wasn’t certain he could find the spot where they had come onto the path, so how could two men with little food and no faith?

Minish was concerned but tried to get the rest of them past the incident. “I hope they will return—I understand their frustrations. We all understand them. Please, everyone, let’s gather around in a circle while Seram leads us in discussions about our faith and our circumstance. Sometimes the release, well, a healthy release at least, can restore our faith and keep us strong.”

They moved into a circle, and Tyler reluctantly joined them. He had infused himself with drugs and was willing to participate if for no other reason than to break the monotony. Fellowship was not a strong suit for Tyler, but it beat staring at trees.

* * * *

When morning came, their small group was rudely awakened by the scream of a Pretal. Tyler had been in a deep sleep without nightmares and was upset at being roused so early from a much needed rest. The Pretal pointed wildly at the ground while speaking unintelligibly about “they got them”. Minish ran to the young man and stared in horror at the spot.

Since Tyler was awake, he decided to see what the problem was. What could happen on this never ending path? He moved toward the center of the group and looked at the ground. Two sets of clothing were laid in a jumble with obvious signs of being shredded. Tyler froze as he remembered nightmares of ripping claws and gnashing fangs. Was this what had happened to the two young men?

Tyler stared at the frozen faces around him and realized the clothing belonged to Manit and his fellow dissenter. Was this their punishment for losing faith? It seemed unlikely, but what else explained it?

It was eerie to see such a violent rending with no bloody traces. It was as if the sayther had simply unwrapped a present to take into the forest. Tyler couldn’t even see tracks in the dirt.

He knelt beside one of the cloaks, and a half eaten piece of fruit fell to the ground when he picked the cloak up. Everyone stared in horror. It was true; partake in the forest’s bounty and you would pay a price. He held up the cloak and stared at the multiple claw marks which tore it apart. He shuddered in remembrance of similar nightmares.

The faces around him grew panic stricken, and the Pretals began huddling closer together as they stared mortified into the dark forest. Tyler could read their thoughts, Will I be next? If nothing else, few would openly argue with Minish again.

Minish took charge. “Okay, everyone, move back so we can gather Manit’s and Salmed’s gear.”

The Pretals hesitated as they feared further sayther attacks but finally moved from the grisly scene. Tyler doubted they were in danger. After all, they could have been attacked at anytime during their journey. It was clear you had to break the rules to meet such a fate.

Not even half way and they had already lost five men. The twenty-eight Pretals packed their gear in silence before performing prayers for the fallen. They had a long way to go, and it weighed heavily upon the small group. Tyler wondered how the other groups around the world were fairing. How many would actually make it to Malane? It was a sobering thought.

* * * *

Hours turned to days, days turned to weeks, and weeks into months. The never ending sameness of the path took its toll, and even Tyler found it hard to stay on the seemingly endless walk. He tortured himself by imagining they were walking in circles, covering the same ground over and over because of some twisted joke played by a cruel god.

Tyler noted even Minish looked weathered and without hope. Was this the purpose of this trip? Like the Trial of Gesh, were they to walk unbelievable distances through bountiful temptations while resisting the urge to indulge? The difference here was the lack of a burning desert sun, and they already walked far longer than forty days. When would it end? When would the ancient walls of Perneer come into view and signal they neared their final destination?

At least Tyler brought his own indulgences, but even he found it difficult to continue perneem without the sexual release of the Vereen or Joriss. His other drugs were running low and he felt his body rebelling against the constant boredom and withdrawals. He would soon have no choice but to partake and suffer the painful effects the hyper-sensitizing drug created without a sexual release.

Erotic dreams would probably be sufficient if he had dreams. However, the nightmares of saythers interrupted his sleep, and the gory details of each one ran through his mind as they continued their steady march. Were they just dreams or something more sinister? He felt the effects on his mind as he eyed the surrounding forest warily. Sleep was harder to achieve despite his pharmacopoeia, and he’d often hallucinated red eyes on the trail, although he wasn’t certain they weren’t real.

What were these saythers and why did they haunt him incessantly? Clearly they played a role on this world, but was it only to kill all who took from the forest? Were there other reasons more demonic and deadly? The nightmares showed vast hordes of the dark creatures ready to destroy anyone, or anything, opposing their god. Were they angel equivalents to Gamel? Tyler didn’t think angel was the right fit—they seemed far from angelic.

After losing Manit and Salmed, everyone was more cautious when venturing off the trail. Some reported strange growling sounds in the distance, described as emanating from something large. Others found dense foliage hiding thorny plants that entangled a person and were virtually impossible to remove.

The forest held bounties galore, but it also hid things Tyler feared they didn’t want to meet. How many of the plants and animals were poisonous? How many were predators? Despite the ancient assurances they were safe, Tyler and many of the others constantly glanced from side to side as they continued the trek. Everyone was nervous, and the intense monotony magnified those fears.

They currently sat quietly on the path, preparing for sleep, and Tyler was actually happy after the evening fellowship that surfaced fears and concerns. It made it easier to suffer when you realized others suffered with you. Although he was often high during these discussions, he was actually enjoying them.

Seram had become the leader of these campfire sessions, and Tyler had to admit he was good at it. He was the rallying strength keeping everyone moving forward. He called to their faith and gave them the fortitude to look beyond their current circumstances to the end goal of fellowship with their god.

Tyler didn’t much care for the religious aspects of the discussion, but he found the break in the boredom always welcome. They took turns reading from their texts, and despite the clear sermons buried within the ancient documents, Tyler found many of the tales exciting. It was better than the alternative—nightmares.

Most laid warmly within their cloaks while Tyler leaned against a tree looking through a rare opening in the canopy at the brilliant stars overhead. On Earth, he’d never seen stars so vivid. Too much light from the city and moon obscured the distant galaxies and worlds. He’d been there among those heavenly bodies and despite his wonderful vantage on Gamel, he decided they were still seen best from space.

He debated whether he should partake of perneem. His body ached with desire, but would he have dreams of Toosia and Linda, or would it be nightmares of saythers ravaging bodies in a gross carnage?

Tyler knew he’d wrought his own carnage during his rampage through the Universe, but something about the saythers disturbed him. They seemed almost mindless, without pity, and without purpose. It was as if the killing was pleasurable for the dark creatures, not an instinctive need to feed or defend. Because of that, they were like the Onyalum—destruction for the sake of destruction.

As Tyler relived his own atrocities, he felt an overwhelming pang of guilt and reached for the pipe to dull the pain. Many were still awake, so he would have to move into the trees to consume his precious drug.

As he rose from his seat, a scream pierced the trees to his left. It was one of the Pretals, and from the crashing sounds interspersed with cries, Tyler knew the young man was being dragged through the undergrowth deeper into the forest. Something had caught him, and they were running away with their prize.

Tyler shivered with memories this invoked, both good and bad. Everyone froze as they listened to the crashing through the heavy undergrowth. His screams echoed through the trees until suddenly stopped short. Tyler vividly remembered the death strangle that was a common technique with large predators. It suffocated the victim while silencing the screams that might give away your position to other predators.

The man was dead as the forest fell eerily silent. Everyone held their breaths, waiting for a sign the he had yet survived. It would not come, the creature had sounded quite large.

Tyler placed his pipe back into his inner pocket and backed away from the forest. He suddenly lost his craving for perneem and stared into the forest expecting a monster to come barging through the trees. He didn’t think it was a sayther. It was much too noisy. Saythers were silent.

Someone broke the quiet. “Minish, we must help save Samrane, he can’t be too far off!”

Tyler recognized the man. He’d been close with Samrane and clearly wanted to help him. Too bad Samrane was no longer alive. Tyler knew it, but held his tongue.

Everyone stared at the young man, a look of disbelief in their eyes. The fear was a palpable fog drifting through the camp. Even Minish was frightened. He turned to the young man, uncertain how to respond.

“And … and what would you have us do?” Minish knew no one would willingly go into the dark forest looking for a dead body, or remnants of one.

On Gamel, there were no predators on the desert floor, just the villages and their stark existence. This was something new and frightening. Tyler could do it, but he knew he wouldn’t return. What would the purpose be? Samrane was gone and nothing would save him. By now, only scraps remained from the meal he’d provided.

As if on cue, a blood curdling roar shook the forest as the creature howled success to the rest of the denizens. Tyler shook in reaction to the startling sound. As River Red, he’d become accustomed to those roars, and judging by the deep tone of this one, the creature was enormous.

Tyler’s current thought was whether Samrane had been a sufficient meal, or whether the creature would come back for more? Tyler felt like telling Minish they should move on, but Minish beat him to it.

“Okay, everyone, grab your belongings, we will move further down the trail tonight and rest in the morning.”

No one argued, not even Samrane’s friend. With eyes peering cautiously into the dark woods, they moved silently down the path toward other unknowns.

* * * *

After Samrane’s brutal attack, Tyler refused to go into the forest. Instead, he would walk back along the path until he faded into the darkness or around a bend. Considering nothing had been seen on the path, he felt relatively safe to be alone. It was enough to continue his drug use, a necessity on the never ending trip.

The trail began to take a noticeably downward slant, and Tyler felt they were moving farther inward away from the cliff. It had been at least a week since they had glimpsed the distant horizon, so they clearly entered the mountain’s interior while moving lower in altitude.

Like everyone else, Tyler hoped they were nearing Perneer and the final leg of their journey. Although he had adequate food and water, he was convinced he would go crazy if they were forced to stay on the interminable path much longer. He felt claustrophobic and snapped angrily at fellow travelers over minor things. He wasn’t the only one. Everyone grew edgy after Samrane’s death.

Tyler plodded near the back of the line and was surprised when an opening on their left showed they were moving down towards a valley floor formed between two mountains. Surely they neared the end, why else would they be going down? He stared across the valley and noticed its summit was obscured by a thick veil of clouds. He remembered the climb up the cliff and hoped they would not have to climb to the other side, even if it was the easy path.

Others in the group murmured to each other about the new view and obvious descent. Clearly, they were excited by the prospects of nearing the end of the journey. Unlike Tyler, most had little food left, and hunger took its toll on their bodies and spirits. Tyler knew they would not partake of the forest after what happened to Manit and his friend, but their eyes constantly darted to the trees overhead and the fresh fruit hanging there. Tyler knew what hunger could do, and he saw many of the Pretals donning desperate faces that meant they’d kill for food.

Now, however, their spirits were buoyed by the hope the end was near, and their pace quickened in anticipation. Even Tyler was excited to reach the bottom by nightfall.

* * * *

Unfortunately, it took two more days before they reached the bottom and out onto the desert floor. Their path merged with four others leading to different parts of their world. There were no signs anyone had recently traveled them, but Tyler felt certain many must have crossed this point.

The trails merged just short of the desert, and as they moved out of the forest, the trail itself disappeared into the dry, barren landscape. Tyler had never seen so little life. It was as though they had passed an invisible line demarcating the lush forest and the sandy dunes that disappeared to the south in a shimmering haze. Tyler was thankful they would not have to cross that stretch of nothingness.

Already the dry heat stole what little moisture they’d built up along the mountain trail, and Tyler found his unlimited supply of water gone. Others around him discovered the same thing, and Tyler understood why they could not have made the journey walking along the base of the mountains. Apparently, the path was enchanted in some fashion, and now that they were off it, they would have to sustain themselves as best they could.

Fortunately, they were well suited to the desert environment, and everyone put their flasks away as they moved off to the left, following the base of the mountains towards the ancient city still hidden from view.

Tyler always wondered what Perneer would look like. It was supposedly a huge city in its glory days, and to listen to the Vereen, it sounded like most of the structures still stood intact—empty and untouched by all but the sands of the desert.

They made slow progress through the loose footing, and Tyler felt the heat draining the energy he’d maintained in the mountains. How far to the city? Would they make it before nightfall? Minish told them they were forbidden to enter the ancient dwelling, but would camp outside its walls if needed. The final trail to Malane was just behind the city where the walls backed into the mountains.

Tyler surveyed the landscape ahead but spotted only shimmering browns of desert sand reflecting the sun. They still had farther to go. The journey had truly been a test of faith. What would they do if Gamel didn’t re-appear? It would shatter all of the holy men, and he doubted most would make it back to their villages after such despair.

What would he do if Gamel did return? As they drew closer, he felt uneasy with the prospect. What if Gamel could tell Tyler was a fraud? What if he demanded proof of their faith? Tyler had no faith and felt certain he couldn’t fake it. He was a severe substance abuser, and he had no illusions their god would not smile upon that.

He stared into the distant heat and worried the destination might be far worse than the journey.

Fear No Evil

They walked several more days on the desert floor before Perneer’s walls finally rose above the shimmering horizon. Everyone was mesmerized by the vision of something they’d only read about in holy texts. Considering the distance to its great walls, Tyler estimated the city’s size was considerable—especially for such a primitive world.

Tyler saw hundreds of large towers and buildings thrusting high into the sky. Against the barren landscape, the white walls gave the impression of dried bones from some ancient beast. Tyler saw no life and wondered how many other groups had already passed.

Minish greeted the ancient city with a clear sign of relief. He informed the group they would camp outside its walls that night, and that increased everyone’s pace. The city represented a major landmark. After Perneer, the final leg was relatively short, therefore, the end was near.

Staring at the great walls, Tyler wanted to explore the empty streets and buildings of this ancient city abandoned thousands of years before. He’d never been anywhere with buildings so old. For that matter, he’d never left the United States, and although it had a rich history, it was only hundreds of years old.

Perneer was like the pyramids of Egypt. He wondered what the city had been like before its fall from grace. What technology had they employed? Plumbing? Electricity? Were these things developed during those early times under the grace of their god?

Ever since leaving Poolto, Tyler rarely enjoyed such comforts, and even now, he did not long for them, although he was curious of their existence. The city had been called the greatest on the planet, and since it directly competed with the Holy City of Malane, Tyler understood its downfall. If this was the competition, what must Malane look like?

As they neared the towering walls, they located a spot to camp beneath the foothills leading back into the mountains. Everyone remained silent as they settled down beneath the shadows of the massive monument to a lost time and culture. Tyler could only imagine what ran through the Pretal’s minds. Was their god really responsible for the destruction of something so massive? How many people had been destroyed?

The legend became myth, yet here it stood before them, real and tangible. Considering the huts of their villages, the enormous city was both strange and frightening. Like someone from a rural America visiting New York City or Los Angeles for the first time. The sight would be both wondrous and daunting.

Under their current circumstances, he believed many would wonder how so many people could have been fed within such a great city. For those well versed in the ancient texts, they would know of the vast plains that once stretched from the mountains to the sea. Food was not only abundant, but varied. They’d had fruit and nuts from the mountains, grain from the fields, and seafood from the oceans. A true economy had existed, and with it, a massive population had been sustained within these white walls. Perneer had been the New York City of Gamel.

Now, only timeless sand stood watch at the gates of the fallen city. Their economy destroyed, and with it, the abundant food. Except for Tyler, none of the Pretals even knew what seafood was. Fish, fruit, and grains were no longer a part of their diet. Now it was a meager subsistence on what could be coaxed from the harsh desert. It sustained them but decimated their population with meager nutrients.

What had it been like?

Tyler mulled the idea of entering the forbidden city and touring the ancient past. Although his absence from the group would not be questioned, the hour was late, and Tyler had no light with which to search the dark streets and buildings. He was certain Minish would want to leave at first light considering how close they were to Malane. For most, this ancient city was a monument to corruption and evil—a beacon of the sins that had brought the planet to its knees. He understood if they all wished to leave its presence as quickly as possible.

Tyler found a quiet spot on the fringe of the group, staying close while others foraged for fuel and food. After leaving the mountains, they could once again pick from the meager food available within the desert and use what little resources were available. They had been so long on the road without a fire, Tyler looked forward to the light and heat it provided.

Thankfully, as a senior member of the group, he was exempt from such chores, set to the younger Pretals. For that, he was grateful. He sat on the ground and stared at the white walls stretching toward the open desert. He tried to imagine what it must have been like for Gesh walking into the great city after Gamel had destroyed it. Hundreds of thousands of people would have been turned to dust, and a bright young man like Gesh would have realized this. How would he have felt? How had he kept his faith in a god that had destroyed so many? Was fear what kept him strong or did he have a genuine love for his angry Creator?

Tyler had no way of knowing if the story were even true. Ancient texts were notorious for creating mythical magic out of tragedies that were simply a natural evolution of a planet. Floods, drought, and famines were often attributed to angry gods and sinful societies rather than natural consequences of living on an active planet. Tyler vaguely remembered his science classes and Mr. Thornton explaining the ancient world of the dinosaurs. Earth had been warm, lush, and maintained a huge and diverse population from the bounty of the planet. He even recalled a television show that explained how dinosaurs had once roamed freely on Antarctica. But all that changed millions of years before man even appeared.

Was this desert caused by the wrath of a god or was it a consequence of natural climactic changes? Since arriving on Gamel, Tyler had never felt an earthquake, a regular occurrence in Los Angeles. Was the planet cooling? Was the core no longer active enough to cause movement on the land above? For Tyler, the planet seemed extraordinarily sterile, unless you were in the mountains. But those rich forests were forbidden, so the people continued to perish on the desert floor. God or no god, life was constrained to living around the equatorial belt of rich mountains ringing this world.

Was there still life in the oceans? Tyler yearned to be an Onyalum and move in a blink of an eye to the distant shores and poles. At the time he’d first found Gamel, he’d had no interest in its ecology or history. Escape was all he’d wanted, so he’d ignored the strangeness of the planet turning slowly below him. Was the planet tilted? Did they have real seasons? At the equator, he’d never know while daylight and darkness were equal. The air temperatures and weather never varied from one day to the next.

The only weather he’d seen was in the mountains, but they’d been sheltered from even that while on the holy path. Clearly it rained in the upper altitudes, but the temperature remained constant. He could not remember feeling cold at night or hot during the day. The lush vegetation was a strong indicator of mild temperatures and ample moisture. Were the mountains the only place on the planet with weather?

His recollections while circling above the world was a clear view of the northern and southern hemispheres. That meant little cloud cover, thus little weather. Only the equatorial mountains were dotted with white cloud tops surrounding the mountain peaks.

The smell of smoke brought Tyler from his reverie and he moved closer to the crackling warmth. Although wood was scarce on the desert floor, the people of Gamel had long since harvested an abundant cactus-like plant from the craggy foothills for fire. The meat of the plant burned slowly, like coal, and provided steady warmth during long cold nights.

Tyler grew accustomed to the bitter smell of the smoke from these fires and even enjoyed the exotic scent, especially after so long without. He settled next to the fire with the older men who’d waited for its fabulous heat. The younger men readied a meal from the grubs and plants they’d successfully foraged out of the dry landscape. Tyler looked forward to something other than the dried food in his pack.

The sun set in the west, and its warm glow lit the walls of Perneer in a blood red display. The effect was both fantastic and surreal. In a rare moment of reflection, Tyler missed the beautiful sunsets of Los Angeles. He and Linda would occasionally stay home, sitting on their deck as the sun sank into the Pacific, igniting the Los Angeles basin in a warm red glow. A dull ache grew in his stomach as he remembered that previous life. He held back tears for that loss. It had been a small and insignificant world, but it had been his.

* * * *

After their meal, Seram led the group in fellowship as their destination drew near. For once, Tyler declined the religious fervor. He walked back along the foothills to a secluded spot to enjoy his own personal fellowship. The memory of Earth had revived his desires for perneem.

What was more fitting than to partake of its sweet smoke outside the walls of the city for which it had been named? Perhaps they had invented the drug or at least made it a staple of the economy. Did they have drug dealers like Tyler had once been? He doubted the drug had been illegal. If the city were truly decadent, then orgies and narcotics would have been a mainstay for the people within its walls.

Even by starlight, the great white walls glowed through the moonless dark, beckoning to an intoxicated Tyler. He yearned to be within its walls, intoxicated, naked, and pursuing his fantasies with others lost in the enchantment of the powerful drug. He sat against a large boulder dreaming of the mythical city. He imagined Toosia and Linda smothering him with their warmth, inviting him to partake in the earthly pleasures their bodies would provide.

He became lost in the dream and fell asleep under the starry skies of a distant world.

* * * *

It was late when Tyler made his way back to the camp and the warmth of the fires that would still be burning. The night had grown cold and Tyler was particularly vulnerable after using perneem.

He moved toward the towering walls and spotted the glowing fires through the darkness. Everyone appeared asleep, so Tyler would have to be careful not to wake them. As he neared the light, he caught movement against the distant city walls. Was the city really abandoned? Perhaps there were actually people who ignored the ban and lived in its confines.

He entered the light of the camp and noticed something odd. The camp was deserted, and Tyler felt a sinking feeling as he watched the shadowy figures in the distance. Was Minish taking them into the city? That would be very odd, and Tyler’s instincts told him something was wrong.

He ran to catch the dark figures rounding the corner of the walls toward the north entrance. In his condition, he quickly ran out of breath from the fast pace. The stubby body and strange waddle made progress slow and difficult. He finally reached the corner of the wall and rounded it to darkness stretching east into gloom. No movement, shadows, or figures crept through the blackness. A part of him wanted to turn back and return to the camp to await their return. But he knew he couldn’t leave. He would have to follow them into the city. He ran along the wall as it sloped down along the uneven ground. In the distance, he spotted the glow of a fire reflecting off the high walls. Surely, that was the entrance.

As he crept closer, dark figures moved in and out of the large break in the wall. It was too dark to get a good look at who they were, but Tyler felt certain it was not his fellow Pretals. None of the figures looked to be wearing religious robes.

Tyler slowed and lay back against the wall to assess the situation. Although the planet did not know violence or conflict, Tyler reasoned it was possible for people to inhabit the dead city after many thousand years. What would they think if thousands of religious people suddenly appeared outside their walls? Would they be gracious and invite them in for a meal or would they be defensive and protect their city from what looked like an invasion?

He’d never know skulking along the wall, so he moved in closer to see the people moving near the entrance. So far, no one noticed him, but he felt a sharp sting on the back of his neck that nearly made him yell.

His hand reached for the area that had been bit, and he wondered what insect could deliver such a painful sting. As far as he knew, Gamel had no blood sucking insects, at least he’d never seen any up till now. The spot of the sting grew intense, and he suddenly felt weakness overcome him. He staggered toward the wall, trying to keep upright, but his swirling vision made it difficult to keep his balance. With a flailing grasp, he lurched toward what he thought was the wall, but found only air.

He fell to the ground hard while black dots blurred his vision. He rolled onto his back and stared blankly at the smear of stars undulating overhead. It was as if a white paint brush had wiped them haplessly onto a black canvas. As the darkness overtook him, a strange face blocked out the stars. He wanted the face to move despite the mesmerizing colors obscuring its features. It looked more like a painting than a real face, and Tyler laughed. At least he thought he laughed. He wasn’t sure, and it didn’t matter as the darkness enfolded him in its restful embrace.

* * * *

The acrid smell of a fire woke Tyler. His eyes slowly adjusted to the flickering fire light as myriad shapes moved throughout the cavernous room. It was the temple from his nightmares, but instead of saythers, he saw real people in colorful masks building pyres from enormous logs. Many of these pyres burned while others smoldered as piles of ash.

Tyler tried to sit up but was bound to a large log like those in the pyres. His head felt fuzzy and he wondered if this were yet another in a long line of nightmares. He was completely naked as were other men also tied to logs.

Were they burning the men on the logs? It matched so many of his nightmares he felt certain this was yet another in the infinite chain of restless nights. By arching over the log, he spotted people discussing something toward the back of the light. He wasn’t certain, but one of them reminded him of the Vereen. Why would she be here? She had never appeared in his nightmares before.

In front of the group, another pyre was just finished and they were tying men to the teepee like logs. The men appeared drugged and seemed oblivious to the dire situation they faced. Tyler could clearly see women watching the masked people loading each log with a helpless soul.

Surely this was another nightmare? He’d never seen or heard of violence among the people on Gamel. This was yet one more hallucination caused by his drug addiction, wasn’t it? The nightmares grew worse, and for Tyler, much too real for his liking.

He desperately struggled to remember where he’d been and what he’d been doing before the dream. Had he been smoking perneem and fallen asleep? He felt the memory in his mind, but it was elusive and slipped out of reach. He remembered the trip through the mountains, and the desert, or at least he thought they had reached the desert. He wasn’t quite sure, the drugs or dream were blocking his memory.

He turned back to face the other direction and watched a long line of at least twenty logs piled up against a wall, each holding a naked man. It was quite bizarre, and Tyler suddenly felt self conscious about his nakedness. It was a strange sensation considering his propensity toward orgies, but something about this place felt wrong, and being naked within its walls seemed … dirty.

One of the men a few logs down was turned towards Tyler, and he recognized the face of the young Pretal he’d been traveling with. He couldn’t remember the man’s name, but he clearly recognized his face. He was bound to the log same as Tyler, and his clothing had also been removed. The young man appeared unconscious, but his face held a serene smile while his body belied sexual readiness.

In fact, most of the men were the same as the young Pretal—naked, unconscious, and ready for sex. It was a wicked sight, and Tyler tried to force himself awake. This nightmare was way too real, and he desperately wanted to wake before things got worse.

He heard voices nearing him, and he arched back in time to make out what they said.

“… and make sure they are tightly bound before you administer it, they may find sudden strength and try to break free.”

It was the woman he’d seen and she resembled the Vereen exactly. What was she doing, what was this place? Was this real or not? He decided to take action.

“Vereen,” he yelled, “it is me, Samil!”

The Vereen and the masked person turned towards Tyler’s voice. She whispered something to the masked person who shot away to carry out whatever directions she had given.

As though locked in indecision, the Vereen stayed where she was and stared at Tyler. He wondered if she were going to come to him or simply walk away, but she finally walked over with her slow and sensual pace. She stopped behind him, forcing him to strain his neck to see her.

“Vereen, what is this place, what is happening?” He asked in a casual tone, excitement not necessary inside his dream.

She stared down at him, a look on her face that seemed like … was it loathing? Tyler was confused.

The Vereen grabbed his shoulders and pulled him towards her, rotating the log so he faced the opposite direction. He stared into her eyes and noticed his body responded to her touch. Even in his dreams, this woman possessed a mysterious power.

“Hello, Samil.” She almost spat the words. “Where do you think we are?”

Tyler was taking aback by the question. Didn’t she know where they were? He certainly didn’t, and said as much. He admitted that he’d been there many times in his dreams, and this dream was no different except that she was here.

The Vereen smiled slightly at his admission, and squatted next to him to get close to his face. “So you believe this is another one of your nightmares?”

She said it so smoothly and so sensually, Tyler felt his body strain against the bonds, desire overcoming the unusual circumstances of his situation.

Noticing his obvious interest, she moved to the side so he could see the latest pyre they’d built. She cradled his head in her hands and the smell of her so close drove him mad with desire.

“Is it a nightmare you’re in, Samil, or is it a dream? Maybe a fantasy you want fulfilled?”

She moved her hand from his head and stroked his chest, teasing him as she moved it downward. He throbbed in response, the mere touch sending sensations tingling through his body. She was playing with him, and Tyler was powerless to stop it. He wanted her, and everything else in the room, the pyres, the naked men, and the strange colored masks would not stand between him and that desire.

She pointed toward the latest pyre, and Tyler watched as the naked men were mounted by the women he’d seen earlier. Each woman straddled one of the men moving to some unseen music. They were making love to the enraptured males who were lost in the euphoria of the sexual congress.

“See how he writhes in pleasure as she brings him to the ultimate place in the Universe.” Her voice carried malice within its sensual tones. “He cares not for his god, Samil … not even his life, for he has tasted the forbidden fruit and he will never again be the same.”

Tyler was mesmerized by the obscene as women rode the poor men in a sexual rodeo from which he could not tear away. The men moved in response, rhythmically matching the woman’s pulsing speed. They were lost to the pleasure, and none was concerned they were strapped to a pyre which Tyler was certain would be ignited in flame after the orgy ended.

“Is that what you want, Samil? Do you want me to straddle you and let you enter me to satisfy your lust? You’ve tasted the forbidden fruit countless times, you already know the intense pleasures that you can find there. Do you want to do that once more, Samil? Do you need to escape to your lost loves … Toosia perhaps? Or Linda?”

Visions of both sprang into his mind and he found he could not resist the absurd offer. He wanted to escape. He wanted to make love with the Vereen, with Toosia, and with Linda one last time.

The Vereen sensed his willingness and she began to stroke him gently. He arched in pleasure as her hands found the proper rhythm to entice his body. She stopped and stared into his eyes, an evil glint shining through the smile that enthralled him.

“Would you do anything for it, Samil?” She whispered.

Tyler nodded as his body tried to stretch the bonds pinning him.

“Would you kill for it, Samil?”

Her voice, like silk, ran through and across his body, and he swelled in response as he once more nodded.

Barely audible now, she whispered. “Would you die for it, Samil?”

He knew the question was outrageous, but he could not stop himself from answering. “Yes, I would die for it.”

The Vereen smiled and stood as the masked person she’d sent off returned with a perneem pipe. The person deftly filled it from two small containers held in the other hand, and Tyler felt a sudden pang as his addiction responded to the presence of the narcotic.

The Vereen shook her head to the masked person before turning to stare at Tyler. “Then you shall have it, Samil—I will give you what you desire.”

The Vereen walked away as the masked person knelt beside him to help him partake of the exotic drug. The person placed the containers inside a pocket and withdrew a small device Tyler had never seen before. It was two glass tubes containing liquid substances. The tubes had a wick suspended in each, but both wicks met at the top to form a single one inside a glass cap.

The person removed the glass cap, and the wick instantly lit in a tiny flame. Tyler was impressed, it was a chemical lighter—this primitive planet had invented a lighter. He smiled briefly at the banned technology. Like everything else with the Vereen, it was counter to the culture of the planet.

The person placed the pipe in his mouth and brought the flame up to it as he drew in the strong smoke of his addiction. He felt instant warmth spread through him,

Table of Contents

Prologue

Eruption

Solitude

Give Us This Day

Visions

Into The Valley Of Death

Fear No Evil