Cheilin Saga ~ 09

 Cheilin Saga ~ 09 Bluttland I

By Len Morgan

Mawgwar was ‘the Premier Bride of Bedelacq’; and the most senior; his favourite and most intimate human receptacle.   He maintained better relations with her than with any other of his brides, even though at first appearance they all seemed to be about the same age, but they were not.   Bedelacq was able to maintain the human form in an unchanged state for hundreds of years; it was not possible to do so indefinitely but, if the process was started early enough, he could allow them to remain frozen in time, without ill effect for centuries.   He chose for them to be forever sixteen and in the full bloom of youth, and at their most attractive to males.

Occasionally a female body would show signs of deterioration and become harder for him to maintain, in a stable state, for any length of time.   He would allow the body to die, and with it the occupying spirit; or as in the case of Mawgwar, his faithful follower, he would allow her to choose a fresh young form from amongst her handmaidens.   There were four; when Bedelacq informed her of her impending demise, she chose without hesitation, announcing that Sherveice would become Mawgwar.   Though the new form was young, the switch was immediately apparent, as soon as it had taken place; the eyes of Sherveice grew dark and dangerous, revealing the true effects of Mawgwar’s seven previous transitions.  

Sherveice, was under a misconception that automatically, with her new body would inherit the power.    She made the mistake of issuing orders as though she were ‘the Premier Bride’.

“What do you think you are at girl?” Mawgwar screamed.   “You aren’t even a bride yet, I chose your body because that one is dying and you are the least of my minions.”

“No it isn’t true, say it isn’t…?”   Sherveice croaked through unfamiliar lips.

“Go enjoy what little time is left to you, return to the place of your birth and arrange your affairs.   What you do is of no concern to us.   Begone!” Mawgwar laughed malevolently.

.-...-.

Hierarchy!

To a man, all Blutt Priests and Generals can trace their formative years back to Blutt Central, to humble beginnings as slaves to the rulers ‘the Brides of the Bedelacq’; no matter how high they rise they know there is no escape from the collar and leash.   Instinctively they all defer to ‘the Brides’, Bedelacq’s personal representatives on Abbalar.  They make edicts, dispense his justice, and rule supreme,  throughout the land in the name of Bedelacq.

   General Mawld was taken from his parents, by the seekers, as a child, with seventy other boys and an unknown number of young girls, who were imprisoned in three carawagons, and hidden away from the light of day for the duration of their journey.   The boys were herded like cattle, on a nightmare journey, fed starvation rations and reduced to eating anything that came to hand, or mouth, in order to survive.   They were herded around, aimlessly it seemed, for close to three months becoming lean and gaunt in the process.   Their numbers dwindled daily until only thirty-five remained alive.   Only then did the seeker priest turn them and head to the capital, Blutt Central. 

On arrival, they were pressed into service as slaves to ‘the Brides’.   Life was still hard, their rulers strict and unpredictable ensuring their survival was uncertain but, they consoled themselves with the reality of receiving better quality and regular food.   During the next five years, Mawld served four Brides, being passed from one to another for assessment.   He would be uprooted in the middle of the night and led away without explanation, he came to realise that they did not need to give him one, he was required to obey any and all…   He came finally into the possession of Mawgwar, who retained him for six weeks, together with five others.   He learned early that to gain respect he had to be stronger than the others, and make them fear him, which he did reluctantly at first until he became an automaton.  

                                                    .-…-. 

A Conjunction occurs twice a year, when Vexen, the red moon, dominates the night sky by eclipsing Veinen, its smaller and more distant blue neighbour.   At this time Abbalar is bathed in blood-red light; for a period of seventeen minutes.   At this time, the Bluttlanders are whipped into a blood letting frenzy, by their priests, in the name of the one god Bedelacq.   For a brief insane interlude all the laws of humanity are suspended and they behave in a manner that would shame the vilest beasts.

Half an hour prior to ‘the Conjunction’, a hundred and twenty young men were led into the ‘Arena of Blood’.   Each was issued with a short stabbing weapon and a singlet of either orange or green.   These were to signify the teams they were allied to; the issue was completely random.    Becoming a thinly disguised excuse for the carnage the conjunction unleashed.   Further divided into units of three, they faced up and awaited the moment of the conjunction.   The light changed from lavender to violet to brown to red, and they attacked.   Their attackers and one of their own was killed swiftly, and the survivors turned to face the next group.   They were joined by a survivor from another group, and they fought again, Mawld fought until all who faced him were dead.   When the Conjunction had passed, a horn sounded bringing an end to the slaughter.   He looked towards the brides and their handmaidens and saw the blood lust reflected in their eyes.   Bloodied and bright-eyed, with tears and the excitement of battle, while fight fluids were still coursing through his veins he suddenly felt mortified, what had they done?   He looked around counting just thirty-four survivors, including himself, more than two-thirds of their number had died to provide those ghouls with entertainment; suddenly he felt sick.

As the survivors left the killing field their weapons were taken from them and inspected.  

They were separated into two groups.   Mawld was allocated to the larger group, with twenty-two others.   The group with twelve members was led back into the arena, and set to work, dispatching the wounded hanging the bodies by their heels and beheading them.  The blood drained into buckets until fully exsanguinated, then the bodies were piled onto four horse draws carts, and taken to be burned.

“How were we chosen,” Mawld asked a soldier.

“Their blades were not bloodied,” he answered with a wry grin.

“What will happen to them?” he asked.

The soldier shrugged and looked away.

Mawld and most of his group were seconded to the army, as officer cadets.  After a few months of training, they were sent, as young sub lieutenants, to lead seasoned troops into battle on the opposite face of the Sabretooth range.   This was during their ill-conceived and abortive attempts to gain a foothold in Southern Dalacia to the North of Bluttland.    Despite it ending in failure, Mawld distinguished himself in battle and returned as a veteran captain.   When he went north again, during the second campaign, his commanding officer was cut down in an ambush.   He took command rallying the men, who were on the point of retreating and led them in a rout that enabled Bluttland to establish its first permanent foothold in Dalacia.   He was mentioned in despatches and received a field promotion to Major.   He was now recognised as a talented officer, fast tracked for promotion, and recalled to Blutt Central for further training, and indoctrination, prior to further elevation.

Colonel Mawld returned to the front to take up a new post, and to find that morale had plummeted again in his absence.    There were daily desertions and many others were close to fleeing.   He called the men together and asked them to send representatives to put forward their grievances.   He promised he would do his utmost to redress the injustices.   A particularly aggressive representative refused to accept this and it came down to angry words, face to face, and more.   The man-made the mistake of drawing his sword against Mawld, who despatched him out of hand showing his contempt by wiping his blade on his victim’s cloak.   Then he repeated his promise and made eye contact, with as many as possible, daring them to doubt him.

  Mawld was true to his word.   In two months he totally reversed their fortunes.   He established good relations with some of the local farmers, buying their produce, at a fair price, and helping them to plant their fields in the absence of their young men; who had been pressed into service with the Dalacian Army.   One of his own troopers was accused of raping a local woman.   When the man openly admitted the act, Mawld had him publicly executed.   The farming communities could see that Blutt Laws were for all, not just the occupying force.   In just a few weeks he had set up a mobile establishment of three dozen young professional women, from Bluttland, the harassment of local women ceased from the day they arrived.   The next, and most unexpected, development was the recruitment of young local volunteers for a second cadre the Madame found that she was turning girls away.

Everybody it seemed was happy with the situation, everyone except a hard-line priest named Roffal, who thought they should be rounding up the local populace and sacrificing them in the name of Bedelacq.

“You ought to be gathering subjects for the next conjunction, not pandering to their whims!   These people are our enemies; you are fraternizing with them, helping them farm their lands, giving then succour.   You are a fool Mawld, they will turn on us.   Our only real friends are our own kind…”

“Priest!   We are in a foreign land, a hostile environment, we need their cooperation much more than they need ours.   If we impose our rituals and beliefs on them they will certainly turn against us, and make our job that much harder.   I am in command here and you will hold your peace,” said Mawld.

 “Our Lord Bedelacq is most specific.   At the time of conjunction, an offering of blood must be made in his name.   You will do well to remember that” said Roffal.

“Are you threatening me, priest?”

“I am telling you the facts man!”

“If Bedelacq bays for blood, he will receive blood!”   Mawld answered, “just get out of my sight, now!” he yelled dismissively.

   At the next conjunction each army unit sacrificed one head of cattle; a cow, a pig, sheep or goat, and they feasted on the drained carcases afterwards.  

Roffal was not pleased.   He ranted at the perceived insult to God.   “Human blood is what is expected and required at the conjunction, not this…” he yelled in frenzy and tipped the offering bowls over onto the floor, showing his contempt.

Six months on the priest returned to issue a further warning, “Mind my words, General, Bedelacq requires human blood!   Ignore this warning at your peril.”

Mawld went white with anger, “Then he shall have it” he answered, grabbing the priest by the scruff of his neck and drawing his knife.

Roffal squawked like a chicken, Mawld let him go, with a mixture of contempt and disbelief, and watched him scurry from the command tent in terror.   He summoned his officers and informed them of his encounter with the priest, “he may be a spineless coward but, he is very dangerous” said Mawld.

“He is also right,” said Hagg, one of his seniors, “we cannot ignore the wishes of Bedelacq, without courting disaster.   It could place our whole mission in jeopardy.”

Mawld looked hard at the man allowing it to pass without comment, this was a time for straight-talking, but he would be watching Hagg from now on.   “Does anybody else hold similar views?” he asked.   Three men stepped forward.   “You four can leave now and will not be a party to what I have planned; I ask only that you do not repeat anything you have heard.   When they had left he issued his instructions to those who remained.

On the night of the next conjunction, he held his own arm over the offering bowl, and let his blood flow.   Most of his officers did likewise.  Some of the men were also moved to do the same, as well as sacrificing animals as before.

Roffal was livid.   As promised, Mawld had given human blood at the offering and it was given willingly which made it a hundred times more potent, according to the Brides of Bedelacq.

A messenger was despatched to Blutt Central requesting that one of his Brides be sent to witness and put a stop to what was being done in the conquered region of Dalacia.   The priest was a bitter and vengeful man, he would not rest easy until Mawld was in chains and banished from the light of day forever.

(To be continued)

 Copyright Len Morgan