Best Fantasy Stories

Chapter 30 THE DAY OF SACRIFICE

Chapter 30

THE DAY OF SACRIFICEAt last the time came.

It was the end of the dark season. Then, as the sun rises for

its permanent course around the heavens, when the long day of six

months begins, all in the land of the Kosekin is sorrow, and the

last of the loved darkness is mourned over amid the most solemn

ceremonies, and celebrated with the most imposing sacrifices. Then

the most honored in all the land are publicly presented with the

blessing of death, and allowed to depart this hated life, and go to

the realms of that eternal darkness which they love so well. It is

the greatest of sacrifices, and is followed by the greatest of

feasts. Thus the busy season—the loved season of darkness—ends, and

the long, hateful season of light begins, when the Kosekin lurk in

caverns, and live in this way in the presence of what may be called

artificial darkness.

It was for us—for me and for Almah—the day of doom. Since the

ceremony of separation I had not seen her; but my heart had been

always with her. I did not even know whether she was alive or not,

but believed that she must be; for I thought that if she had died I

should have heard of it, as the Kosekin would have rejoiced greatly

over such an event. For every death is to them an occasion of joy,

and the death of one so distinguished and so beloved as Almah would

have given rise to nothing less than a national festival.

Of time I had but a poor reckoning; but, from the way in which

the paupers kept account of their joms, I judged that about three

months had elapsed since the ceremony of separation.

The paupers were now all joyous with a hideous joy. The Chief

Pauper was more abhorrent than ever. He had the blood-thirst strong

upon him. He was on that jom to perform his horrible office of Sar

Tabakin, and as he accosted me he smiled the smile of a demon, and

congratulated me on my coming escape from life. To this I had no

word of answer to make; but my hands held my rifle and pistol, and

these I clutched with a firmer grasp as my last hour

approached.

The time of departure at length arrived. Soldiers of the Kosekin

came, following the paupers, who went first, while the guards came

after me. Thus we all emerged into the open air. There the broad

terrace already mentioned spread out before my eyes, filled with

thousands upon thousands of human beings. It seemed as though the

entire population of the city was there, and so densely packed was

this great crowd that it was only with great difficulty that a way

was laid open for our passage.

Above was the sky, where the stars were twinkling faintly. There

was no longer the light of the aurora australis; the constellations

glimmered but dimly, the moon was shining with but a feeble ray;

for there far away over the icy crests of the lofty mountains I saw

a long line of splendid effulgence, all golden and red—the light of

the new dawn—the dawn of that long day which was now approaching.

The sight of that dawning light gave me new life. It was like a

sight of home—the blessed dawn, the sunlight of a bright day, the

glorious daybreak lost for so long a time, but now at last

returning. I feasted my eyes on the spectacle, I burst into tears

of joy, and I felt as though I could gaze at it forever. But the

sun as it travelled was rapidly coming into view; soon the dazzling

glory of its rim would appear above the mountain crest, and the

season of darkness would end. There was no time to wait, and the

guards hurried me on.

There in the midst of the square rose the pyramid. It was fully

a hundred feet in height, with a broad flat top. At the base I saw

a great crowd of paupers. Through these we passed, and as we did so

a horrible death-chant arose. We now went up the steps and reached

the top. It was about sixty feet square, and upon it there was a

quadrangle of stones set about three feet apart, about sixty in

number, while in the midst was a larger stone. All of these were

evidently intended for sacrificial purposes.

Scarcely had I reached the top when I saw a procession ascend

from the other side. First came some paupers, then some hags, and

then, followed by other hags, I saw Almah. I was transfixed at the

sight. A thrill passed through every nerve, and a wild impulse came

to me to burst through the crowd, join her, and battle with them

all for her life. But the crowd was too dense. I could only stand

and look at her, and mark the paleness of her face and her mute

despair. She saw me, waved her hand sadly, and gave a mournful

smile. There we stood separated by the crowd, with our eyes

fastened on each other, and all our hearts filled with one deep,

intense yearning to fly to one another's side.

And now there came up from below, louder and deeper, the awful

death-chant. Time was pressing. The preparations were made. The

Chief Pauper took his station by the central stone, and in his

right hand he held a long, keen knife. Toward this stone I was led.

The Chief Pauper then looked with his blear and blinking eyes to

where the dawn was glowing over the mountain crest, and every

moment increasing in brightness; and then, after a brief survey, he

turned and whetted his knife on the sacrificial stone. After this

he turned to me with his evil face, with the glare of a horrid

death-hunger in his ravenous eyes, and pointed to the stone.

I stood without motion.

He repeated the gesture and said, "Lie down here."

"I will not," said I.

"But it is on this stone," said he, "that you are to get the

blessing of death."

"I'll die first!" said I, fiercely, and I raised my rifle.

The Chief Pauper was puzzled at this. The others looked on

quietly, thinking it probably a debate about some punctilio.

Suddenly he seemed struck with an idea.

"Yes, yes," said he. "The woman first. It is better so."

Saying this he walked toward Almah, and said something to the

hags.

At this the chief of them—namely, the nightmare hag—led Almah to

the nearest stone, and motioned to her to lie down. Almah prepared

to obey, but paused a moment to throw at me one last glance and

wave her hand as a last farewell. Then without a word she laid

herself down upon the stone. At this a thrill of fury rushed

through all my being, rousing me from my stupor, impelling me to

action, filling my brain with madness. The nightmare hag had

already raised her long keen knife in the air. Another moment and

the blow would have fallen. But my rifle was at my shoulder; my aim

was deadly. The report rang out like thunder. A wild, piercing yell

followed, and when the smoke cleared away the nightmare hag lay

dead at the foot of the altar. I was already there, having burst

through the astonished crowd, and Almah was in my arms; and holding

her thus for a moment, I put myself in front of her and stood at

bay, with my only thought that of defending her to the last and

selling my life as dearly as possible.

The result was amazing.

After the report there was for some moments a deep silence,

which was followed by a wild, abrupt outcry from half a million

people—the roar of indistinguishable words bursting forth from the

lips of all that throng, whose accumulated volume arose in one vast

thunder-clap of sound, pealing forth, echoing along the terraced

streets, and rolling on far away in endless reverberations. It was

like the roar of mighty cataracts, like the sound of many waters;

and at the voice of that vast multitude I shrank back for a moment.

As I did so I looked down, and beheld a scene as appalling as the

sound that had overawed me. In all that countless throng of human

beings there was not one who was not in motion; and all were

pressing forward toward the pyramid as to a common centre. On every

side there was a multitudinous sea of upturned faces, extending as

far as the eye could reach. All were in violent agitation, as

though all were possessed by one common impulse which forced them

toward me. At such a sight I thought of nothing else than that I

was the object of their wrath, and that they were all with one

common fury rushing toward me to wreak vengeance upon me and upon

Almah for the s*******r of the nightmare hag.

All this was the work of but a few moments. And now as I stood

there holding Almah—appalled, despairing, yet resolute and calm—I

became aware of a more imminent danger. On the top of the pyramid,

at the report of the rifle, all had fallen down flat on their

faces, and it was over them that I had rushed to Almah's side. But

these now began to rise, and the hags took up the corpse of the

dead, and the paupers swarmed around with cries of "Mut! mut!"

(dead! dead!) and exclamations of wonder. Then they all turned

their foul and bleary eyes toward me, and stood as if transfixed

with astonishment. At length there burst forth from the crowd one

who sought to get at me. It was the Chief Pauper. He still held in

his hand the long knife of sacrifice. He said not a word, but

rushed straight at me, and as he came I saw murder in his look. I

did not wait for him, but raising my rifle, discharged the second

barrel full in his face. He fell down a shattered, blackened heap,

dead.

As the second report thundered out it drowned all other sounds,

and was again followed by an awful silence. I looked around. Those

on the pyramid—paupers and hags—had again flung themselves on their

faces. On the square below the whole multitude were on their knees,

with their heads bowed down low. The silence was more oppressive

than before; it was appalling—it was tremendous! It seemed like the

dread silence that precedes the more awful outburst of the

hurricane when the storm is gathering up all its strength to burst

with accumulated fury upon its doomed victim.

But there was no time to be lost in staring, and that interval

was occupied by me in hastily reloading my rifle. It was my last

resource now; and if it availed not for defence it might at least

serve to be used against ourselves. With this thought I handed the

pistol to Almah, and hurriedly whispered to her that if I were

killed, she could use it against herself. She took it in silence,

but I read in her face her invincible resolve.

The storm at last burst. The immense multitude rose to their

feet, and with one common impulse came pressing on from every side

toward the pyramid, apparently filled with the one universal desire

of reaching me—a desire which was now all the more intense and

vehement from these interruptions which had taken place. Why they

had fallen on their knees, why the paupers on the pyramid were

still prostrate, I could not tell; but I saw now the swarming

multitude, and I felt that they were rolling in on every

side—merciless, blood-thirsty, implacable—to tear me to pieces. Yet

time passed and they did not reach me, for an obstacle was

interposed. The pyramid had smooth sides. The stairways that led up

to the summit were narrow, and did not admit of more than two at a

time; yet, had the Kosekin been like other people, the summit of

the pyramid would soon have been swarming with them; but as they

were Kosekin, none came up to the top; for at the base of the

pyramid, at the bottom of the steps, I saw a strange and incredible

struggle. It was not, as with us, who should go up first, but who

should go up last; each tried to make his neighbor go before him.

All were eager to go, but the Kosekin self-denial, self-sacrifice,

and love for the good of others made each one intensely desirous to

make others go up. This resulted in a furious struggle, in which,

as fast as anyone would be pushed up the steps a little way, he

would jump down again and turn his efforts toward putting up

others; and thus all the energies of the people were worn out in

useless and unavailing efforts—in a struggle to which, from the

very nature of the case, there could be no end.

Now those on the pyramid began to rise, and soon all were on

their feet. Cries burst forth from them. All were looking at us,

but with nothing like hostility; it was rather like reverence and

adoration, and these feelings were expressed unmistakably in their

cries, among which I could plainly distinguish such words as these:

"Ap Ram!" "Mosel anan wacosek!" "Sopet Mut!" (The Father of

Thunder! Ruler of Cloud and Darkness! Judge of Death!) These cries

passed to those below. The struggle ceased. All stood and joined in

the cry, which was taken up by those nearest, and soon passed among

all those myriads, to be repeated with thunder echoes far and

wide.

At this it suddenly became plain to me that the danger of death

had passed away; that these people no longer regarded me as a

victim, but rather as some mighty being—some superior, perhaps

supernatural power, who was to be almost worshipped. Hence these

prostrations, these words, these cries, these looks. All these told

me that the bitterness of death had passed away. At this discovery

there was, for a moment, a feeling of aversion and horror within me

at filling such a position; that I, a weak mortal, should dare to

receive adoration like this; and I recoiled at the thought: yet

this feeling soon passed; for life was at stake—not my own merely,

but that of Almah; and I was ready now to go through anything if

only I might save her: so, instead of shrinking from this new part,

I eagerly seized upon it, and at once determined to take advantage

of the popular superstition to the utmost.

Far away over the crests of the mountains I saw the golden edge

of the sun's disc, and the light flowed therefrom in broad

effulgence, throwing out long rays of glory in a luminous flood

over all the land. I pointed to the glorious orb, and cried to the

paupers, and to all who were nearest, in a loud voice:

"I am Atam-or, the Man of Light! I come from the land of light!

I am the Father of Thunder, of Cloud and Darkness; the Judge of

Death!"

At this the paupers all fell prostrate, and cried out to me to

give them the blessing of death.

I made no answer, but leading Almah to the edge of the pyramid,

told her to fire the pistol. A million eyes were fixed on us. She

held up the pistol and fired. Immediately after, I fired both

barrels of the rifle; and as the reports rang out and the smoke

cleared away, I heard a mighty murmur, and once more beheld all

prostrate. Upon this I hurriedly loaded again, and waited for

further revelations. All the time I could not help wondering at the

effect produced by the rifle now, in comparison with the

indifference with which it had been regarded at my first arrival in

the country. I could not account for it, but supposed that the

excitement of a great religious festival and the sudden death of

the Chief Pauper and the Chief Hag had probably deeply impressed

them. In the midst of these thoughts the whole multitude arose; and

once more there came to my ears the universal uproar of innumerable

cries, in the midst of which I could hear the words, "Ap Ram!"

"Mosel anan wacosek!" "Sopet Mut!"