Chapter 266 - Blood Gods in Exile part 11

I woke to the smell of mortal blood, and my stomach twisted on itself, cramping painfully. Vehnfear snarled and I placed my hand on the animal's back to restrain him. I sat up as Zenzele stirred beside me. At the mouth of our refuge, Hammon and his brother stood anxiously.

"The sun has fallen below the mountain peaks, Gon," Hammon said. "We are ready."

"Return to your camp," I told him, holding my body very still, for it wished to fly at the mortal and drain him of his blood. "We must feed, and then we will give you the living blood."

Hammon hesitated, staring at the growling wolf beside me, then nodded and withdrew.

"It is better if we don't feed before we give them the blood," Zenzele said. She stretched her arms and curved her back. "The blood will be purer. It will not pain them as badly."

Bhorg groaned and climbed to his feet. He shook his head, then looked around the cavern fuzzily. "Goro has not returned," he observed.

"He is looking for his people again," I said.

"I think he will be looking for a long time," Bhorg replied, not unkindly.

"I'm afraid so," I said, rising. I sighed as a mortal man might sigh. "Well, I suppose we should go make them into gods."

"I can give them the blood if you would prefer to feed first," Zenzele offered.

"No, I can manage. We should all participate in this. You too, Bhorg. We will have to make many blood drinkers before we wage our war on Khronos. Best that we get accustomed to it."

"I said once that I would never make another one of us," Zenzele confessed.

"As have I," I told her, cupping her cheek in my hand. "But the need is too great. I am sure it will not be the only vow we break in the days to come, but it is for the greater good."

Vehnfear trotted away when we exited the cave. He paused to look back at us, expecting us to accompany him, tongue hanging out and tail wagging, but Zenzele told him to go on, and he loped away in search of his nightly meal.

We walked side-by-side along the meandering river, stepping lightly upon its smooth round rocks with our bare feet. It was a brisk evening, the air chilly but not uncomfortable. The sun had dropped below the mountain peaks in the west, but its light was still in the sky, only a few stars winking visibly in the firmament.

Hammon hailed us as we approached. He rose, as did the rest of his companions.

They looked scared, but they should be. The scent of their fear, mixed with the odor of their blood, roused the demon inside of me so that it felt like my stomach was trying to claw its way out of me to get to them.

"Are you ready?" I asked as we drew near.

"We have prepared ourselves," Hammon nodded. "We bathed in the river, and trimmed the hair of our bodies."

"You should disrobe," Zenzele told them. "You will soil yourselves like children when the living blood changes you."

Hammon nodded with an uneasy grin, both amused and repulsed by the thought of soiling himself. "You heard the man," he said to his companions, loosening the lacings of his parka-like upper garment. Grumbling, the others followed suit.

The Orda were uncomfortable being naked, I observed. All but Hammon and Morgruss stood holding their privates in their hands after they had disrobed. Eris stood covering his groin and chest like a woman might do, though he had no breasts to speak of.

They stood shivering as they waited for us, and a fantasy raced through my mind of throwing myself upon them, taking them down as the wolf takes down the buck, and feeding upon them. I could practically taste their blood on my tongue, feel my eyeteeth rending their flesh.

No!

I shook it off, shivering a little myself, but not from the cold.

Zenzele had asked, when we lay down to rest that morning, whether we should observe the ritual offering of blood, as it was done in Uroboros. I told her we would not. I did not want to tempt myself with their blood, and I certainly was not comfortable accepting sacrifice from mortal men.

"We are not gods, Zenzele," I had said.

"You may have to pretend before you have your army, my love," had been Zenzele's enigmatic reply.

They were brave looking men, if not attractive. Clean, hair trimmed and styled in the Orda fashion—hair braided on the sides, then pulled around to the back and fixed with thongs so that it held the rest in place. Their bodies were thin, almost bony, but muscular. Even Stine and Morgruss, who were husky men, showed obvious signs of malnutrition. I felt ashamed of myself, tempting such desperate men with immortality, but it had to be done.

We had them lay out their bedding side by side, instructed them to lie down.

"I want the Mother to give me the blood," Eris spoke up, a nervous smile teasing the corners of his lips. He had shaved the hair from his face and looked very feminine that evening, or like a very beautiful young man.

Zenzele smiled and nodded at him, crossing the group to stand beside him.

Bhorg moved to kneel between Morgruss and Stine, the men he felt most comfortable around.

That left me with Hammon and his brother.

I kneeled down at Hammon's head. He looked up at me, eyebrows arched.

"Are you ready?" I asked.

His throat convulsed, but he nodded.

I glanced toward the heavens. The sky was growing darker by the moment, a bruised purple color now, the stars brighter and more abundant. I prayed to my ancestors, who dwelled among those stars, to forgive me for what I was about to do.

I do this for our mortal descendants, I said soundlessly to them. I do this for our children, and our children's children. I do this to preserve the People, no matter where they go, no matter what they call themselves.

"Open your mouth," I told him, and when he obeyed, I placed my lips over his, forming a seal, and brought the living blood up from my stomach.

His eyes flashed open, and he threw his hands up to push me away. Might as well push away the mountains. I held my mouth over his as he lurched beneath me, hearing the others choke and cry out in pain. When the living blood was inside him, I moved quickly to his brother, Neolas, and repeated the procedure. The first time was painful for me, a ripping sensation in my stomach, like someone had pulled my bowels out through my throat, but the second time was even worse, the pain more intense, and I felt a wave of dizziness wash over my thoughts.

I fell back, weakened, my senses reeling, while Hammon and Neolas thrashed and grunted.

Bhorg tottered away, clutching his stomach in pain.

"Gon? Can you stand?" Zenzele asked.

I felt her fingers on my shoulder. Nodded. Concentrating on her touch, I swam through the waves of faintness and clambered to my feet.

"It is done," I gasped.

"Yes," Zenzele said, looking toward Eris anxiously. The beautiful young man was writhing. "Motheeerrrr!" he screamed, his voice shrill. Already, his flesh was beginning to blanch.

"You've killed me, damn you!" Hammon shouted, staring up at me in rage and terror. Every muscle in his body was standing out. His eyes glittered like jewels. His eyeteeth had already grown noticeably longer and sharper. He held out his hand and gaped at it, watched as the color drain from his flesh.

The Orda raged and howled and writhed like wounded men on a battlefield. Their birthing pangs were terrible to behold. Several of them voided their bowels and vomited, the contents of their intestines forcibly ejected by the black blood. The sickly sweet smell of shit and bile made me retreat a step or two.

"Do we die, brother?" Neolas cried. He reached for his sibling, hand trembling. "Do we die or do we live?"

"Mother!" Eris screamed again. "Motherrr!"

And then Stine, who had been suffering silently the entire time, his bulging eyes locked to the heavens, opened his mouth and let out the loudest shriek of all.

The living blood consumed him.