6 days left
Avso stood before his father's house, its silhouette etched sharply against the twilight. The air, cool and tinged with the earthy scent of impending rain.
Avso knocked on the door. A servant soon came—a scary-looking man with perpetually wide eyes—and let him in. He bowed low, muttering, “Murok-blessed.” Avso nodded to him. His father walked to the dining hall and said, “Here, boy.”
Avso’s eyes widened. “Yes, sir.”
His father’s nose curled at the sight of him. Avso’s heart dropped, and it felt like a stab in his chest. He moved on from the pain.
They walked to the dining room. Avso sat across from his father.
“Do you have any info?” He raised his eyebrow.
“Yes, father. For one, they don’t plan on letting you become leader afterward.”
“Obviously. Why would they?”
Avso’s mouth dropped. He quickly closed it. “But ... Why would you just let them do that?”
“They’re necessary for this part of the plan. That’s all you need to know. Now, what else do you have to tell me?”
Avso explained the plan.
Frauza nodded. “That’s good. That will work.”
Avso struggled to speak up. “I had a plan, too. I think it could work.”
His father’s eyes narrowed. “What is it then?”
“I could use my connection with the Emperor. He’s called on me for advice before. I could go and say that I sensed he needed guidance. Then I could convince him to meet somewhere for an ambush.”
His father stared at him silently. “It's not as good as the other plan.”
Avso’s heart sank, and he wished he hadn’t said anything. It had been stupid, completely stupid.
“But,” his father said reluctantly, “we need more intel. We’ll use you for that.”
Avso was confused, but he agreed anyway. “OK. I’ll do it. What do I have to do?”
His father thought for a moment. “Go to the Emperor, tell him you saw he needed advice, listen to his words … And then question him about the ritual before you leave. Make him tell you everything: when it will end, if he has any secrets about it, if there are any weaknesses—everything. I will not have us run this mission on bad information. Do you hear me?”
Avso nodded. “Yes, father. I will do that.”
“Good.” His father’s face twisted in sudden disgust. “Go now. Leave me.”
Avso left.
The sound of running water was loud throughout the entire temple, but Avso couldn’t find the source. The walls were made of stone and hardened mud.
“I’m here to see the Emperor,” Avso said quietly to the warrior guarding the entrance. He was suddenly trembling again.
In less than a minute, the Emperor was upstairs; he bustled toward Avso and immediately fell to his knees. He kissed the earth before Avso. Avso didn’t know what to do. He was meant to be kissing the dirt at the Emperor’s feet. This was wrong. Murok surely didn’t want this.
But it was good. This was good for the plan. His father would like this. “Rise,” he said, making sure to keep the uncertainty out of his voice.
The Emperor rose, a smile on his lips. “It is wonderful to see you, blessed one. I will always love to meet you. It is always a pleasure."
“Of course, I felt that you needed my guidance, so I came.” Avso had rehearsed that line in his head a thousand times. Saying it felt stilted, though.
“I did, oh wise one. I did, indeed. Let me show you. Follow me, please.”
Avso followed. His hands shaking suddenly, taken with terror. His feet fumbled, and he felt as if he would fall momentarily.
The Emperor swept away a cloth and walked into a corridor. They walked and walked deeper underground, torches flickering. The air grew cooler, carrying the musty scent of stone long untouched by the sun. Avso ran his hand over the wall pattern. The texture was hard and coarse. Tiny, intricate mosaics and patterns lined the walls. The walls themselves told stories, whispering tales of glory and tragedy to those who would listen. The dim light played tricks on the eyes, making the figures in the mosaics seem to move as if alive.
As they walked, a reverent silence permeated the air. The Emperor broke it and said, “Blessed one, do you know why your father was unfaithful?”
Avso faltered. “N-no.”
“This is what I thought.”
They were silent for a moment. “Why?”
“I cannot tell you, blessed one. I am sorry.”
“But … Do you know why he was unfaithful?”
“Yes, Murok told me everything about your father. But Murok told me not to tell any other soul—not even you.”
“Why is there such a need for a secret?” Avso trembled at the thought of knowing the answer.
“I wish I could tell you, blessed one. But Murok’s command is eternal. I cannot tell you anything.”
Avso wanted to ask more but didn’t want to disrespect or nag the Emperor.
They walked. Avso looked at the walls and their endless history.
Gwicpooza, the first Murok-blessed, was depicted with fire hair burning crude depictions of nonbelievers. Twurkeziz, with his great club, stood atop a mountain of bodies. Ikel held the Dagger of Light. Guirgem fought against the seven tribes of Osiec. Meoriduf brought on the great flood. Swebeil built the first temples—now long gone—in the name of Murok. Emueza, whom Murok first touched and gave the power of Otu. The Wasaurwu tribes came together to form Murkali. Tesro, with his sacred amulet. The Emperor Odoze, who rebelled against the Murkali tribe in the name of Ilan, was depicted burning in agony.
Avso and the Emperor emerged into a stark, square chamber. The room, illuminated by the sputtering glow of wall-mounted torches, was bare save for the unsettling detail of faint red stains marring the stone floor. The absence of the intricate engravings that had lined the walls of their descent filled the space with an oppressive emptiness, making Avso's stomach churn.
The Emperor sat on the ground cross-legged and motioned for Avso to do the same. Avso did so slowly.
The Emperor stared at him. He was dressed in lavish robes—of the sort the Elders wore. Avso couldn’t recall the last time the Emperor had worn robes like this. Had he put them on for Avso?
“I need advice, blessed one. Wiseman Ohvocdu would not heed me, and I dared not call on you for something trivial … but … I need advice …” The Emperor’s deep, baritone voice chilled Avso to his bones.
“O—OK.” All Avso could think about was that he had been tasked with killing this man. But when Avso looked at him and felt his constricting aura, he knew it to be impossible. How could a mortal man possess such an aura? Only Murok himself could surely.
“The nonbelievers rally behind each other every day. Every day, they grow in numbers, spewing lies. We are strong in spirit and strength, but our numbers are small. What am I to do? Gift me with your wisdom, blessed one. Show me Murok’s words.”
Avso opened his mouth and stammered. “I—I would. You should …" He breathed in sharply, focusing himself. He looked at his golden hair before his face and remembered who he was. “What is your plan?”
Amud sank. “To kill. It is the only plan, is it not? They cannot be convinced to join us. And if they would, they are not worthy of joining. If Murok did not bless them, they deserve to die, yes?”
“Well … Yes.” Avso didn’t know what he was saying.
Amud nodded confidently. “That is why we must attack with fervor—to strike them down harder and faster than anyone has before. Yes?”
“Yes.”
The Emperor nodded, smiling. “I have another question if you will hear me.”
“I’ll hear you.” Avso felt sweat dripping down his forehead. The torches flickered across Amud’s face.
“Why do the nonbelievers refuse to believe?”
Avso hesitated. “Maybe ... maybe they cannot. Maybe it’s because Murok never birthed them.”
“Naturally.” Amud smiled. “They are barbarians.” His voice came out happily with a smile, and his eyes shone in the torchlight. “They are barbarians. And they need to die. They tear up the mud; they steal our lands, and disgrace who we are. They choose not to believe because they cannot. They are like ... A disease."
The Emperor fell silent for a moment, then continued. “They need to be eradicated. This is what I thought. They need to die.” Amud nodded with a reverent, teary smile. “May I ask another?”
Avso nodded again. “Y-yes.”
“Do they deserve to suffer?” The Emperor’s gaze bore into his like iron driving into flesh. Like a force of a thousand rivers cutting through rock. The full force of the aura pushed down on him.
“Well ...” Avso wracked his brain. “Would you make a .... Would you make a bird suffer when you had to kill it?”
The Emperor thought for a moment, staring at the torch. The moment stretched long. His towering presence was accentuated by his broad shoulders and the muscular build of a warrior. His skin was rich and black, absorbing and reflecting the torchlight equally. Lines of wisdom marked his face. Each twist in his dreads was adorned with jewels that glinted like stars against the night sky.
“Yes,” he said finally.
Avso’s stomach tightened. “Why?” Avso’s voice came out like a whisper.
“Do you not agree with my choice?”
“I—no—I just want to hear why you think that.”
The Emperor nodded. “The bird is the opposite of Murok’s will. It imitates Ilan—it tries to fly. It tries to be more than the mud and earth. It searches for divinity in that which is evil—the air. If something blatantly disregards Murok, as if he doesn’t exist ... then it deserves to suffer, right? I could not bear to let it live another moment happily. It should not be happy. It cannot be happy. So I will show it that by making it suffer. If a bird thinks it can be happy from the air, then it should suffer—for it so vehemently ignores Murok.”
Avso didn’t know what to say.
The Emperor smiled widely and continued. “The bird disgraces Murok, so I disgrace it. By making it suffer, I raise Murok. This is how it works. Its suffering is a ... sacrifice ... A sacrifice for Murok.”
Avso wracked his brain. That wasn't what he had wanted. “Well—what—what about a worm? An earthworm.”
“Well, it is of earth, so it should not suffer.”
Avso nodded. “And are nonbelievers of earth?”
The Emperor smiled with all his teeth. “No, they are not. They are of evil.”
Avso’s stomach tightened again, and he stayed silent.
The Emperor took his silence as an answer. “So they should suffer. They should suffer, and so they will.”
Avso wanted to protest, to tell the Emperor that he was wrong and that the non-believers shouldn’t suffer. But … this was the Emperor. The Emperor had to be correct. Murok had chosen him. But if Murok had chosen the Emperor, why was Avso killing him?
The Emperor smiled so widely and happily that Avso began to feel fear deep down in his chest. The emepror’s aura shifted, it sent out a pulse after pulse. The Emperor stared down at his lap.
The Emperor started sobbing.
Avso scooted back, hands trembling, eyes wide.
The Emperor sobbed again, and tears fell from his eyes to the stone blow. His hair cascaded down his face, hiding it from view. But the sobs were great and mighty. He looked up with teary red eyes and a massive happy smile. He stared at Avso. “Thank you for your wisdom, blessed one.” Tears ran down his face, happy tears. “You have gifted me with wisdom. And I will listen. I have been listening.”
Avso’s hands trembled, and he backed up against the wall, but the Emperor didn’t notice his fear.
“I will tell you the truth, blessed one, for you deserve to hear it. You deserve to hear it all.” His great, deep voice shook. “I began to doubt. I began to doubt in my wisdom.” He laughed sharply. “Why would I doubt? It seems foolish now. Why would I doubt when I was Ohvocdu’s apprentice—when I am the Emperor? I doubted my actions. Was I doing the right thing? I knew what I had to do, but as time passed and their screams seemed to pierce my soul, I began to doubt. But you have restored my faith—my faith in myself. I will not doubt it again. Thank you, blessed one.”
A silence strained as the Emperor sobbed. And Avso’s meek voice said, “W-what were you doubting?”
“I doubted their torture. I told my warriors what I believed, and they listened. They were to bring in the nonbelievers to experience Murok’s pain every night. They chose to disgrace Murok’s world—which he spent so long and so painfully making, which he scorched his own hands making. They should feel Murok’s pain. And they have.”
Sweat trickled down Avso's forehead.
“We captured so many and tortured them all.” The Emperor smiled. “But we have just begun, it appears. Murok has answered my questions. We will capture even more.”
"I … I don't think …" Avso could barely talk for fear. The Emperor's aura was so oppressive. He wanted to scream at the Emperor, and tell him that he was wrong to torture them. But … They were non-believers. And maybe it was Murok's will for it to happen.
The Emperor’s sobs slowly subsided. Avso sat there on the ground, body stiff and hands clenched.
“And to think I did it secretly,” the Emperor shook his head. “It should not be a secret. All should know about it. All should see that the world’s evil will not exist much longer. We will cure the plague. We will save Murok’s world.”
Avso nodded, scared to disagree.
The Emperor said quietly: “You are why I doubted, Murok-blessed.”
Avso wrung his hands. “Me?”
“Yes, Murok-blessed, you.” He stared at Avso’s hair. “Murok blessed you. He chose you. But I doubt myself because why did Murok not choose me?” His voice was small. “Why am I not Murok-blessed.”
Avso could hardly breathe. “Maybe you can be ... Maybe you just have to finish your mission, and he’ll grant you what you want.”
“Do you think so?”
Avso didn’t but nodded anyway.
The Emperor stayed silent for a while. “Well,” he whispered, “then I must finish my mission.”
They were silent for so long that the Emperor seemed content to let it sit. Avso took his opportunity.
“Your ritual, could you explain it to me?”
The Emperor smiled. “Yes. You were there when it happened. It will make me stronger. The non-believers will be shown no mercy after this. They will not stand a chance. I have Murok and the elders to thank for that.”
Avso sweated. “Are there any weaknesses in the ritual?”
The Emperor smiled. “No, there are not.”
“Is—Is there any way to reverse the ritual after it’s done?”
Avso was being too obvious. The Emperor would catch on to him. He would kill him. He knew it.
“None at all. Murok blessed the ritual. It will not fail.”
“Th-that’s good.” Avso swallowed down his fear. “When will the ritual end?”
The emperor smiled—a sly smile. It rippled Avso’s flesh like wine.
“You are very perceptive, Blessed One. Murok must want you to know. Murok told me what would happen. Murok told me to lie to my people. He told me that soldiers of Ilan will attack on the sixth day and that I must trick them into thinking they had more time.”
Avso’s heart was ready to burst. “What do you mean?” Avso’s voice was hoarse. “What are you saying?”
The Emperor smiled more. “The ritual does not take seven days—that is a lie. It takes three. The ritual will be done soon, very soon.”
