I could never even dream of such beauty in a place so desolate. A vast ocean of sand extended as far as my eyes could see, from which towering ribcages of ancient beasts burst from the timeless swells of sand. The grandeur of these giant skeletons evoked both wonder and fear within me. I realized, as we traversed the towering dunes, that my knowledge of the world is but a grain of sand, and the world itself remains either indifferent or ignorant to my existence.
Danan. The Third Great Age. 3031.
˜ ˜ ˜
The sun dips, casting a dark orange glow that blankets the vast ocean of desert. Silhouetted against the desert's horizon, the procession of camels strides, their forms etched in the fading light. They descend the steep dunes and enter a small, flat sandy basin where the towering ribcages of ancient behemoths pierce through the sand.
"This was once the primordial sea," Lord Varesh calls back over his shoulder, his camel swaying beneath him. "The ancient beasts of this sea now rest on the once-ocean floor."
At an oasis where enormous ribcages of extinct leviathans protrude from the sand, the camel convoy comes to a groaning halt. Scattered palm trees and a pool of crystal-clear water sit amid a circle of white hide tents. Small fires dance like orange orbs in the approaching night.
The camels kneel, causing Jain to tumble from one side with a mouthful of sand. "Damn these cursed beasts," he says, brushing the sand from his body and cupping his groin.
"Come," the tall, wiry man gestures for them to follow. "My sisters await you."
Danan marvels at the star-studded sky, where the stars shine brighter than any he has ever seen.
"I must leave you here, Elim, for I am forbidden to dwell within my sister's presence." The man with the owl tattoo lowers his gaze as he swings open the door to a white hide tent. Lord Varesh nods, and they step into the mystical light.
"By The One!" Jain releases his grip on his sore bollocks while performing a practiced, flourishing bow and flashing his most endearing grin. "Ladies, allow me to introduce myself. I am Lord Jain Adair of the Kingdom of Thiel." His bulging eyes sweep across the room, struggling to keep pace with the sight of the mostly naked women.
"Great Elim, welcome to the home of Anut," a soft voice sings in the Thielian tongue. A babe suckles from her breast as she cups it, urging the child to feed. The woman's breasts bear an owl tattoo, with the nipples as the owl's pupils.
"You speak the Thielian tongue with fluency," Lord Varesh remarks with a slight bow.
"Anut guides us, Great Elim. We all speak the common tongue." The woman licks her razor-sharp, filed teeth and gestures for them to take seats on cushions at a low table beside an open campfire in the center of the tent. Fire-lit lanterns hang from the vast tent's overhead poles, casting dancing shadows on the hide walls.
Jain eagerly takes a seat beside Lord Varesh, his ogling eyes roaming around the tent.
"Are you hungry?" Her eyes, adorned with an owl tattoo, dance as she examines Jain from head to toe.
"Famished, good lady," Jain reveals a nauseating smile of bright white teeth, his gaze drawn to her child.
"Would you like to hold her?" The woman offers the babe to Jain.
To Danan's surprise, Jain rises, his eyes widening with joy as he cradles the infant, embracing it as though it were his own.
"What's her name?" Jain strokes the baby's soft cheeks, making puerile noises and foolish faces.
"Sister," the woman shakes her long, dark hair free and stretches, naked except for a scant cloth skirt that exposes her long legs and soft, pillowy buttocks. She reaches down and retrieves the babe from Jain's arms.
"Sisters," says the head sister, clapping her hands. "Our guests are weary and hungry. Feed them."
Danan lifts his head, noticing at least two dozen women standing, most nude and unabashed, all tattooed with the face of an owl on their exposed chests. He averts his red-faced gaze to the floor, masking his embarrassment.
Jain stares shamelessly, reveling in their intriguing beauty.
The tent comes alive as platters of food are placed on the low wooden table.
The plates brim with walnuts, apples, dates, and dried apricots. Other platters carry an abundance of semi-hard cheeses, cured and salted meats, and cooked grains. A large conical clay bowl arrives, its lid lifted to reveal a pile of simmering meat atop a bed of sliced potatoes. Silver jugs follow, brimming with milk or cooling water.
"Eat. Rest. Anut will summon you when she is ready. For now, she also feeds," the woman beckons, gesturing toward the feast.
"Most gracious of you," Lord Varesh picks at a piece of dried apricot.
Danan nibbles a slice of dried apple, summoning the courage to glance at the gaggle of naked women watching him eat. A thought lingers in his mind—they all look the same, unmistakable sisters. Inked alike, their purple eyes identical, they are all the same. He lowers his inquisitive gaze.
"Thank The One, meat!" Jain rubs his lean stomach and scans the table for cutlery.
"We eat with our fingers in Heb," the woman smiles, licking her filed teeth as her sisters giggle in unison.
"Fingers are fine by me," Jain dives in with his hands, seizing a sizzling slab of meat from the conical clay pot. His giddy eyes roam over the semi-naked women, ogling them from head to toe, his intentions as clear as the starlit sky. "You should know that I am rather skilled with my fingers."
"Shut up," Danan hisses in Jain's ear. "You're less of a fool when you're half-dead."
"You sound more and more like him every day." Jain casts a glance at Lord Varesh. "Now, relax and enjoy the fine company." Jain takes a big bite of meat, allowing the fatty juices to trickle down his chin. He then pops each finger into his mouth, sucking them clean.
The sisters giggle in glee.
"Ouch!" A harsh prod pokes Jain's side. Lord Varesh stares straight ahead, nibbling on a walnut.
Jain takes another mouthful of juicy meat, savoring it with gusto, and sucks the fatty juices from his fingertips.
Lord Varesh delivers another, harder prod into Jain's ribs. Jain pivots on his cushion to face the mage, who ignores him.
Jain reaches for the jug of milk, pours himself a cup, and gulps it down. "Camel milk, as sweet as spring rain." The thick, warm milk clings to his light stubble and mouth. He wipes his chin clean.
Giggles fill the tent as Jain drains another cup and wipes his milky mouth.
Another prod to Jain's gut, even more forceful. Jain swivels to Lord Varesh in annoyed protest, but the mage continues to stare ahead.
"Would Lord Jain of House Adair prefer fresh milk?" The breastfeeding woman bats her eyelids.
"Milking a camel?" Jain's voice rises in boyish excitement. Then, his ears catch the sound of suckling babies; nearly every woman nurses a child at her breasts. Jain stares at his cup of milk in wide-eyed horror, mixed with genuine excitement. He places the cup of breast milk back on the table and wipes his creamy mouth. His shocked stare turns to Lord Varesh, who, with the subtlest of blinks, gestures to the meat.
"Sisters, isn't he handsome?" The lustful head sister looks Jain up and down, admiringly pausing at his crotch. The tent buzzes with excitement as the sisters hatch a plan.
"He is indeed handsome, sister."
"Better looking than our ugly brothers."
"Yes, a new face. We all look the same."
"New babes."
"He cannot feed us all."
"We will have to share him."
"Can he stay with us?"
"Of course not. Our brothers will be angry."
"Yes. They will take us. Force us."
"We must keep him in secret."
"Keep him fresh."
"We can feed him."
"Yes, but can he satisfy us all?"
"I assure you, ladies, I am more than capable of satisfying all of you." Jain limbers and stretches, looking as if he's about to conquer the world.
"Enough!" Lord Varesh crackles with power. "Jain, spit that meat out unless you want human consumption on your long list of growing taboos, and not another sip of their wretched milk."
"The One fuck me in the skull, this is—." Jain's words fizzle out into silence as a mouthful of mashed-up meat drops from his milk-stained lips. He reaches for the water and guzzles it down.
"Fetch Anut, or I will find her myself. No more of these fetid games." The mage stands tall, letting his power build into a dome of glowing blue that covers Danan and Jain. "You will not toy with me, children of Anut. Do not test me again, sisters."
"No disrespect intended, Great Elim," the head sister says, her tongue sweeping across her razor-sharp teeth. "Mother has finished eating; she will receive you now." She gestures toward a thick hide curtain at the rear of the tent. "This way, mage."
Lord Varesh stands, pats down his robes, and strides through the adjoining tent.
Jain and Danan sit in fermenting, awkward silence as the sisters watch them with hungry intent and unnerving curiosity.
The head sister takes a seat on a stool before a metal brazier. With the babe in arms, she feeds the small fire with wood. "So, Lord Jain of the Kingdom of Thiel." She runs her tongue over her filed teeth and massages her lactating breast. "You may rest, my lord. I'm sure my sisters can tend to you in a private place."
Excited whispers fill the tent, concurring with her words.
"Yes, sister. A private place."
"Away from the meddling mage and our brothers."
"We will make him most comfortable."
"I will suckle him."
"Yes. He will drink deep."
"I'm hungry."
"We all are, sister."
Jain's charms elude him for once. He takes a sip of water and fixes his silent gaze on the floor. The stifling silence weighs in the room, broken only by the sound of greedy suckling babes.
"Do you not know?" The elder sister stands, looking down on Danan. She paces in small circles, bouncing her feeding babe in her arms. "The mage enjoys keeping secrets."
Danan hears the hide door flap open.
"It is done." Lord Varesh strides back into the tent, reclaiming his cushion seat without meeting Danan's and Jain's eyes. "We depart at sunrise. Danan, it's time for you to see Anut." Varesh takes a sip of water, his gaze fixed straight ahead.
Danan finds his words withering away in the uncomfortable silence. Trepidation gnaws at his chest, urging him to take tentative steps toward the rear tent flap.
The sisters track his every move, their whispers morphing into cackling giggles.
"Silence!" Lord Varesh's voice slices through the cackling laughter, cutting it dead.
Danan pulls back the tent flap and steps into a haze of rising incense smoke.
˜ ˜ ˜
Heavy incense assaults Danan's senses, overwhelming him with star anise, orange, and cloves. He squints through the smoky fog. He turns to flee, but sees a man with a mouthful of gleaming, sharp teeth and a leathery face inked with an owl tattoo standing behind him.
"This way," a firm push guides Danan through the darkened space.
Danan catches glimpses of Lord Varesh's chests, which lie open, revealing ancient tomes and parchments. His hair stands on end as a wave of fearful nausea and a blast of shivering cold wash over him. He suppresses the urge to vomit as he takes in the countless glass jars housing grotesque hybrid creatures, neither bird nor babe. The stench of decay fills his mouth, and he turns to flee.
"Let me see you." An almost clucking voice beckons Danan from the center of the forebodingly dark tent. In the middle of the tent stands a tall stool made of black wood. Beside it sits a tall stool of equal height, and an overhead fire lantern sways, casting a mystical and fragile light.
"Don't be shy, Danan. Look upon me," the haggard voice cackles.
A firm push sends Danan stumbling before the stool. His eyes widen in horrified shock as he takes in the sight.
"Ah, there you are." The old voice grates like sand scraping against rusted metal.
Speechless, Danan's gaze remains fixed in mortified shock and horror
Perched on the stool is neither a woman nor a bird, but a grotesque deformity with a body the size of a small child's. Bloated like an unfeathered owl, with wrinkled skin as tough as weathered leather, Tiny, bright blue duck feet peek from beneath her pudgy mass of crumpled body fat. Her arms flap at her sides like giant plucked chicken wings, with stubby hands and half-formed fingers that waggle and weave as she flaps with glee. The oracle's dirty, thinning hag hair hangs from her shoulders, framing her squat, round face. Enormous round owl eyes twinkle with delight as she smacks her broad blue duck beak together in quacking joy.
"The One!" Danan covers his mouth and stands motionless.
"Not what you expected?" Anut's large, heavy blue beak clacks as she speaks, ruffling imaginary feathers as she wiggles her plump, naked rear in her wooden nest. "Few have the chance to look upon me, Danan," her long serpentine black forked tongue slithers from between her beak. "For obvious reasons."
Consumed by overwhelming terror, Danan chews on unspoken words. He blinks, then closes his eyes.
"Do not fear, for not all vile-looking things are rotten." The oracle's head bobs and weaves from side to side, like an owl, her half-wing arms flapping. Her long, black-forked tongue flicks across her beak as she speaks. "I have words for you, Danan, if you will hear them."
Dumbfounded, Danan stands frozen like stone, caught between wild fear, fight, and flight.
A firm hand seizes Danan's wrist, and with a swift nick, a sharp knife slices his fingertip.
"Ouch!" Danan protests as the tattooed man behind him holds him in a bear-like grip. He raises Danan's arm and hand over the tall table, and Danan watches in horror as a thin stream of his bright red blood drips onto a chunky pile of raw, bloody meat.
The grip loosens, and Danan turns to flee.
"Do you not desire to hear my words, Danan?" The old, bird-like oracle's voice cackles from behind him. "You doubt, yet deep down, you yearn to hear the words I will speak."
Danan halts mid-stride and turns to face the bird-like oracle.
"Listen carefully, for these words are spoken only once." Anut's stubby blue duck feet waddle in the air as she leans toward the mound of raw crimson meat. The oracle's stubby fingers grasp a handful of the bloodied flesh, and with a swift flick, the meat soars through the air. Her beak snaps forward, seizing it in a series of vicious snaps as she tears through the meat, neck back, gobbling it down like a voracious chick.
Danan's stomach churns as the oracle feeds, smacking her beak together in loud clacks as it tears through the flesh. She tosses more meat upward, then snatches it from the air. Anut tilts her head back as her long tongue slithers down into her pudgy stomach. Blood drips from her beak onto sagging breasts with old blue nipples, and strands of mangled meat dangle from her squashed chin.
An ominous silence falls on the tent. The oracle's bright purple owl eyes roll in her head, spinning around in their sockets before settling into orbs of bright pearly white.
The tent plunges into silence. Incense smoke swirls as her voice clacks and hisses.
"Your light is not so easily discerned. For what is light without shadow? And all shadows need light. The two are woven into the fabric of time. I see your light, yet it is detached, shrouded, neither of the day nor the night. Your light is in another's hands. Embrace the man who bestows it. It is a new light, a dark and powerful light. Do not stray far, Danan. We all cast shadows."
Anut, the oracle, regurgitates a stomach full of sinewy, bloodied, chewed-up meat, splattering it onto the floor in wet hacks and squelches.
"I will look no further, Danan," Anut wheezes, sweat dripping down her shaggy, matted hair. "There is a gaze within a gaze, with eyes even I dare not behold."
Danan stands mesmerized, repulsed, and paralyzed with fear. He finds no words as he averts his gaze from the monstrosity.
"Farewell, Danan. Now send me the killer."
Danan stares at her in confusion.
"Send me Jain, the one you call a friend."