Episode 13: A Place of Worship
Written by: Auraboo
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A harsh wind blew in from the shore, setting the knee-height grasses quivering like waves in the sea. Still the clouds that had been threatening rain for days hung slow and heavy over the moors, hardly moving despite the gusts, painting the temple grounds as gray as the rest of the city.
For all that elves heralded Altùin as the Alabaster City, the truth was that it had been constructed with the same gray stone that was so abundant all along the western coastline. It was beautiful craftsmanship, no doubt – there was a certain airiness typical to elven design recognised all across the known world, not just the continent of Marellan – but the early November gloom painted it in hollow tones.
Of the past glory nothing remained. The temple of the Peace-bearer stood as empty as Altùin itself, and the only thing that resided within its walls was the wind.
Lily’s suspicions were confirmed as soon as they stepped under the archway flanked by twin pillars of white marble, patterned with veins of black and gray. Though the courtyard was overgrown, there was no mistaking the place for what it was. In the middle stood a fountain, all its water grown stale and murky, and on the pedestal was a figure hewn of that same white marble. The apparition of Inrifael looked upon any and all entering his temple with an oppressive air, helmet-covered head turned towards the archway.
The wind sent dead leaves scattering across the tiles. The coastline was miles off, but even at a distance the air carried an unmistakeable whiff of salt. The sea glittered dull and black in the horizon, a lone pillar of light occasionally piercing the clouds.
Kajo lowered their hood, hair whipping about in a sudden gust. Their fingers drummed the hilt of the flail idly until they let their hand drop.
”What do you think?” Kae asked as if discussing the weather.
Kajo shook their head. ”Nothing. It’s empty.”
”Empty, as in…?”
”Drained of essence.” Their expression turned distant, and there was a long break before they spoke again. ”Whatever divinity once resided here is gone. This will never be a holy site again.”
”Huh.” Kae circled around the fountain, hands stuffed in his pockets. He squinted up at the statue. ”So we’re dealing with something that can defile a site guarded by one of the most revered deities in the universe. Sweet. Not concerning at all.”
Lily grimaced, thankful that the others had their backs turned to her. ”Yeah, no thanks. I’m not going in there.”
Kae spun around, eyeing her curiously. ”Whatever for? I thought you of all people would appreciate something fun for a change.”
’Fun’ was the last word in her vocabulary at the moment. It ought to have been his, too, had he learned something from his previous brush with death.
She rolled her eyes. ”Once was enough. I’m not risking it another time.”
Tamrus burst into laughter, much to everyone’s astonishment. They’d scarcely seen him smile before.
”Suit yourself, lass,” he said, grinning knowingly. It irritated Lily beyond reason. ”You take a look around the grounds, then.”
”What happened to not going it alone, eh?” Kae asked. He rubbed at his chest absent-mindedly for the fifth time that same morning. Though there wasn’t so much as a scratch left of the injury, some nervous tick still remained, as if he needed the subconscious reminder that he’d lived. Lily wasn’t sure he was even aware of doing it.
Kajo’s voice dripped with amusement when they said, ”I doubt you’ve need to worry. A priestess never walks alone, does she?”
Without waiting for anyone’s response they sauntered towards the temple, gesturing for the others to follow. Kae shrugged and set off after them, whistling a tune off-key.
”Try not to upset any more gods in our absence,” Tamrus muttered to Lily by the way of parting words, ignoring the withering look she directed at him.
Vegetation had crept up the banisters and the imposing steps leading inside the temple proper, moss pushing out of the cracks in the walls and between floor tiles. Many temples were quiet at noon, but the silence lingering in the hallways was absolute. It wasn’t just that the city was devoid of life, it was devoid of any normal signs of decay as well. There weren’t even cockroaches left to roam the empty buildings.
Despite the structure itself radiating a sense of resilience and power, the temple was stripped of almost anything resembling decor. Here and there floor tiles were etched with the eight-pointed star, and above the alcoves were fraying wall hangings adorned with the ancient Highlander script, now reduced into tatters. Luzem’s lips moved soundlessly as he tried to decipher the text. The script had passed out of common use over six centuries ago and nowadays only served ceremonial purposes.
”Not very fancy as temples go,” Kae remarked as they looked around the main hall. The candle stubs on the visitor’s altar had burned out long ago, their melted wax glueing the worshippers’ last offerings to the stone.
”Inrifael’s temples are known for being ascetic,” Tamrus remarked. ”Don’t you know that?”
Kae shook his head. ”The Peace-bearer is not well-known in Kheranthar. My people honour the twin harvest goddesses, Lwennara and Mneetar.”
”You’ve not much of an accent for a northerner, son.”
He flashed the dwarf a wry smile. ”I’ve been away from home for a long, long time, pops.” He pointed at the cloth hanging above the altar and said, ”you can read this, Luzem?”
”Haltingly,” the elf admitted. ”It is praise for Inrifael – one of his many lithurgical precepts recited at common ceremonies.”
”Common ceremonies?”
”Not all are open to ordinary worshippers. Most rituals take place behind closed doors, open only to the devotees and whoever they’ve seen fit to invite. The wealthy and the powerful, in my experience.” There was a bitter look on Luzem’s face as he beheld the altar. ”In the west not even worshippers are created equal.”
Kae was already reaching for his satchel. ”Mind reciting it for me, word for word?”
”There’s no time for that,” Kajo interrupted. ”The faster we search the sooner this is over. Be quick but thorough. As agreed before, we do not want to sleep too close to the city.” They thought. ”Temples of Inrifael are always built to follow a similar layout. The residential quarters will be in the eastern wing, the archives in the west. We can find the altar room upstairs.”
”Well, the latter sounds like a job for you lot,” Tamrus said, glancing at Kajo, who quirked an eyebrow. ”You suspect divine involvement. Should there be a trap waiting for us anywhere, I surmise it’d be at the heart of the temple.”
”Very well,” Kajo said. They snapped their fingers. ”Stick together. We’ve no reason to make the job any easier for attackers, should there be anything waiting to ambush us.”
Tamrus herded the two elves down the corridor towards the archives while Kajo headed straight to the right, taking the first left turn with confidence. There was a dimly-lit staircase leading to the second floor, bleak daylight filtering in through small, narrow windows hardly large enough to be arrow holes. Kae trailed after Kajo. He could catch glimpses of the courtyard every now and then when the windows weren’t covered by layers of climbing ivy.
The second floor gallery overlooked the entrance hall below, from which they could still hear the murmur of quiet conversation. Through a single dirty window in the ceiling came patches of light, foliage having reached even parts of the roof in its caretakers’ absence. Hanging lanterns stood empty and dark above the double doors leading to the altar chamber, still lightly ajar as though the priests had only just concluded their ceremony for the day and left the woodsmoke to abate.
Kajo pushed the doors open and stepped inside the chamber. It was even darker inside; most of the ceiling windows were blocked by the same type of ivy that had taken over parts of the city. Kae focused and the hundreds of candles scattered around the room lit up at once.
”Leave it,” Kajo said when he made to shut the doors after himself. ”Should they start screaming I’d rather hear it.”
Kae shrugged and let go of the handle.
There was no sign that anyone had left in a hurry, he could tell as much at a glance. The candles had not burned out, unlike elsewhere in the temple, a telltale sign that they’d been doused by hand. No dripping wax stained the candelabras; all parchments and ceremonial books had been carefully returned to the shelves. The seats were arranged carefully to face the altar, waiting, though a layer of dust now covered everything.
Kajo watched mutely as he rifled through the shelves closest to the entrance, comparing the titles written in an unfamiliar script he could not read to ensure they all said the same thing. He pulled out a small notebook and traced the title in it before returning the books in their places.
”How come you never taught me to read Old Highlander?” he asked.
”You’ve never asked,” Kajo replied.
”Well, I guess I’m asking now.”
”Once we’ve nothing better to do, perhaps.” Kajo’s feet made no sound as they walked across the room. They’d once more forgone shoes, as if seasons and elements were of no consequence to them. ”Return everything to their proper places once you’re done.”
”You don’t need to tell me.”
There was no need to talk. A thorough inspection revealed the faintest traces of old magic, from much too long ago to be of relevance. If the walls could have talked, Kae doubted they would’ve had much to say. No hidden mechanisms, no trapdoors, not even hidden compartments for stashing the head priest’s dirty secrets in. All religions had their bad apples, but as temples went this one had been from the more boring end of the spectrum.
He was flipping through a thick volume of lithurgical texts in Common, muttering to himself, when Kajo exited the backroom. Everyday ceremonial equipment lined the walls, meticulously organised, which pleased them. They paused on the doorway and simply took in Kae’s slender form bent over the podium without interrupting him.
He flicked a strand of hair behind his ear before continuing to scribble in the notebook. His notes were always in the untidiest Kheranthar shorthand, nigh on undecipherable even to Kajo’s eyes, and they had no idea how he understood anything he wrote down.
In the three days following the incident he appeared to have bounced back to his usual self alarmingly fast, but Kajo had spent the better part of the past 14 years observing him and wasn’t easily fooled by superficial nonsense. The faintest of shadows lingered beneath his eyes, though he’d turned in for the night earlier and slept later in the mornings than was his custom. Even a warlock’s body recovered from blood loss slowly, he simply hid the fatigue by siphoning more from his magic.
It was a fool’s bargain, and Kajo debated sending him to the Beyond to recuparate for what seemed like the hundredth time in the past days. Would have, too, had they not known the amount of bitching they’d have to endure afterwards. Kae was in his element here, fingertips itching to dig in to the mystery. To deny him the privilege seemed nothing short of cruel.
For all that his people had no innate magic, he had taken to it like kindling to the first spark and let it consume him whole. He burned for it, always had; he’d been a most rewarding pupil in that way. He pressed, he questioned, he argued. To be a warlock required a keen mind, but he was a natural, Kajo had seen it in him right from the start. A diamond in the rough, just waiting to be polished by the right hands.
It was not power that drove him, it was curiousity. It was the catalyst that had first drawn Kajo to him, and it remained the driving force that pulled them back together time and again against common sense: curiousity.
Kajo circled the altar room once more and shut the doors quietly, the voices of the others drifting from the floor below growing muted. They slowly padded back towards the altar, systematically committing every little detail of his appearance to memory. The way his hair curled from the humid air, how the waistcoat hugged his form with every little movement. The quiet murmur as he read in a barely discernible voice, the slightest curl of his lips, his expression shuttered like it always was when he was lost in his own world.
At times, they could have watched him forever like this. At times, it was the opposite.
Kae’s eyes flickered to them briefly as they circled him, then back to his notes. ”Nothing?”
”Nothing,” they confirmed. They brushed loose curls off the nape of his neck, which drew a soft noise from him, but the pen on the page did not pause.
It was only when Kajo snaked an arm around his waist and pulled him against themself that he was jolted out of his reverie, the pen falling on the floor with a clatter. Kajo pulled down his collar, kissing his neck, which drew a surprised noise from Kae.
”What are you—” The words became a groan as Kajo’s hand slipped between his legs. ”Now? Here?”
”Here,” they said.
The book in his hands shook. ”We’re not, ah,” Kae started, inhaling when Kajo’s fingers found the right spot even through fabric. ”Hells, they could hear us.”
Whether they did or not was of no interest to Kajo, but they had long since learned that mortals were easily bothered by the impressions of others. ”Better keep it down, then.”
They unbuckled his belt and slipped their hand under his waistband, luxuriating in the knowledge that despite his protests Kae would never stop them if he was in the mood. Their assumption proved correct. He tipped his head back as though on instinct, legs spreading for easier access, shuddering when their fingers found the wetness between his labia. Kae swore quietly, hips moving to meet their touch.
It was with ease that Kajo found the right rhythm, knowing from the way his breath hitched that the angle was correct. Two fingers working on his clit, not too hard, not too soft, every now and then dipping far enough to only just tease at his opening, until he was a trembling, incoherent mess. He was already so wet that Kajo wondered if he, too, hadn’t been entertaining thoughts of a different sort all day.
”Kajo,” he ground out, low and needy. He craned his neck to claim their lips, but Kajo deflected, nipping at the back of his neck instead.
It wasn’t enough. They had to see him undone, every thought only focused on them. Kajo withdrew their hands, coaxing a whine of disappointment from him.
”Sit down,” Kajo told him.
”Kajo—”
”Do it.”
”Where?”
A small smile tugged at the god’s mouth as they indicated the altar. ”Where else?”
There was a strange gleam in Kae’s eyes when sat down on the edge of the stone altar, breath hitching as Kajo knelt between his legs. Idols of the Peace-bearer watched Kajo pulling off his boots and easing him out of his trousers, underwear quickly joining them on the floor. Though Inrifael’s spirit had long since deserted the temple, there was something decidedly wrong about what they were about to do.
Sacrilege: that was another checkmark on his growing list of decisions made under poor impulse control.
Kae would have been lying to himself had he claimed the thought did not thrill him in the least.
”If anyone walks in on this I’m finding another god,” he mumbled as Kajo lifted his legs on their shoulders. The feeling of Kajo’s breath between his legs, gods, it was enough to drive a man to madness.
He was acutely aware of how heavy the heartbeats in his chest had become, the wait maddening, and knew from the look on Kajo’s face that they knew it, too. He trembled from head to toe when their tongue slipped into him, and stopped thinking entirely.
His hips bucked up to meet Kajo’s mouth, his every silent curse and whimper a reward. It was confirmation that they knew exactly what made him tick, how his breath quickened if Kajo sucked on his clit, the exact cadence of his voice when a third finger joined the first two. The taste of him coated their tongue, slick, heady and familiar. Sometimes that alone had been enough to get them off, too.
Kae’s fingers tangled in Kajo’s hair, a silent plea when he was too far gone for words. Kajo glanced up at him, taking in all the familiar signs that he was close. The way his lips parted, tongue peeking out behind a row of sharp teeth, his eyes squeezed shut, furrowed brows twitching. Kajo knew them all by heart, and knew at once what was going to happen.
”Fuck,” Kae inhaled, the hand in Kajo’s hair shaking. That, too, was a given. ”Fuck, fuck, don’t fucking stop—”
He finished with a stifled gasp, muttering incoherencies. He was never a loud one, Kae, no matter how much you teased.
For a time the only sound was that of his laboured breathing. The balls of his feet knocked against the row of hymn books and scriptures stashed on the shelf lining the altar, knocking some of them on the floor. Kajo tried not to look too self-satisfied as they got up, not bothering to look the other way while he pulled his pants back on.
”Is this something you’re into now? Defiling other gods’ temples?” he asked, fastening his belt in place. He very firmly ignored the fact that his legs felt like water. Or that Kajo licked their fingers clean like the smug bastard that they were.
”Always the tone of criticism. You didn’t seem too bothered, either.”
”Simply making an observation, is all.”
Kajo rearranged their hair back where it belonged. They didn’t get far before Kae stepped around them, however, and shoved them against the altar, nearly knocking them off-balance. Kajo stared as he went down on his knees, hands resting on their hips. He was not smiling.
”There’s no need for that, Kae.”
”This is a place of worship. Let me be a good devout for once.” His fingers tugged at the waistband of their trousers. There was something almost reverend in his eyes when he looked up at Kajo. ”May I, please?”
The way he said it, Hells, it was less a request and more a demand. There was no denying him after that.
Kajo buried their fingers in his hair and let him prove his faith.
The wind had picked up by the time they convened on the courtyard. Kae shielded his eyes as a sunbeam burst between the clouds, momentarily basking the temple in its golden light. From the faces of his companions he could tell they had all returned empty-handed.
Tamrus looked sullen when he said, ”so no leads this time, either?”
”Nothing conclusive,” Kajo replied, readjusting their cloak. ”Whatever happened to the citizens, it seems unlikely the clergy had anything to do with it. Or if they had, it became their demise, too.”
”You sound doubtful.”
They clicked their tongue. ”When priests meddle with powers beyond their understanding, it tends to leave behind clues. Summoning rituals and sacrifices are messy, and I don’t mean in the way you mortals might think. Spiritually. Magically.”
”It upsets the natural order of things on a fundamental level, is what you mean to say, boss,” Kae intervened. He rinsed his hands in the dirty fountain, despite the worried looks Tariya and Luzem threw his way.
”Factually correct, though lacking in precision.”
He huffed a laugh, but did not comment further.
”Anything noteworthy at your end, Lily?” Tamrus asked, turning to her.
She shook her head. ”I’d say how squeaky clean everything here is ought to be suspicious, if the whole city wasn’t just as empty. No rats, no spiders, not even ants. Not even in the stables, despite all the rotting matter.”
Luzem shifted his balance from one foot to another. ”That leaves just the towers in the western ward, I guess.”
”There might be animals closer to the coast. I’m sure I could smell something last time we passed the square,” Tariya added. ”We could check it out. There’s still light.”
”It’s a two-hour walk back to camp, lass. I’m not risking being anywhere near the city past sundown,” Tamrus said. ”Tomorrow. We retire early and set off as early as possible.”
Altùin had been one of the more populous elven cities in the region and the walk back through its streets always took a while. Kae quizzed Luzem on his findings, flipping through his notes on the way, which struck Lily as odd; Kae had made a beeline for the two elves when he normally saved his questions for camp, where it was easier to record the answers. He made little conversation with Kajo the whole way, and when he did, it felt stilted. They were unusually formal with one another, keeping a distance that almost seemed forced.
Lily rolled her eyes. She nudged Kae as she passed him and muttered, ”you filthy heathen.”
Kae gave her his most innocent look. ”I have no idea what you’re referring to.”
”Mmmh.” She eyed the curls that had escaped from his ponytail. ”A tip from a professional: always check your reflection once you’re finished. Your hair’s a mess.”
She didn’t wait for a response and left him to redo his hairtie, more confused than before.
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