The Circle Of Ten

Darkness

Fayala had intended to retrieve the bodies of Ohas's family, however, as soon as she had stepped out of the main temple she knew that would have to be postponed. She stood on the road that would take her through Bidar to the Miorpeans camp and she did not need her psychic senses to realize something was very wrong. She could see the dark plumes of smoke rising above the tree line in the distance. From her height and with the wind blowing towards her she could even hear the faint undulating sounds of people yelling.   As she scanned the horizon she saw more smoke, darker and heavier from freshly set fires rising up into the sky. Whatever was happening seemed to be spreading from the southernmost villages north.

     Suddenly temple priestesses and servants emerged from the wood line that was still charred and burnt from the temple fires last year. Bedraggled from their harrowing ordeal they staggered towards her, some needing to be carried before collapsing at the feet of Fayala who had dropped to her knees as they approached. Some were bleeding and suffering from deep wounds while others displayed signs of being burned and were having problems just taking a breath.

Ohas and Mira had picked up Fayala's emotional response and workers within the temple rushed to aid the injured. Bandages were quickly applied to stop the bleeding and ease the pain as the wounded were helped into the temple complex.

"Oh no not again," said Ohas gazing sadly up at the smoke drifting high up in the clouds.

"I am afraid so," responded Mira.

      Villagers that had been working in the temple complex had come out to see what was going on. However, rather then assist with the injured they stood apart and gathered in groups while talking in hushed voices. Eventually muted arguments developed amongst them. In the confusion a few began to move away and some even took off running down the road. Mira stood and shouted for them to return.

  "Let them go," said Fayala forlornly. "Take those that are willing to stay with us, go through the caves to my inner sanctum, do your best to barricade your selves inside, do not come out until I  return."

Mira and Ohas psychically connected to Fayala, "do not go, stay with us," they pleaded. "What is happening out there has nothing to do with you."

"It has everything to do with me," replied Fayala.

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          Maran clutched the pitchfork in both hands. She had pulled it from the clenched fists of a young woman felled by a Spirit Priestess during the previous attack. She thought of her daughter as she ran with her husband and the thousands of other humans that rushed bravely towards the next settlement. She was glad her daughter was safe back in their village with the other children. They had been left under the care of those too old or ill to take part in the fighting. She had wanted to stay but all of the able bodied humans were needed for the revolution, such as it was, to succeed.

Their initial triumphs came about as victorious revolutions born out of desperate acts often do. Angry despondent people who no longer had hope or care whether they lived or died striking out blindly at the source of their misery. Thousands of people rushing headlong into certain death brought down by the hundreds as they charged forward in a desperate attempt to overwhelm  their oppressors.

     To Maran the dreadful violence resembled more of an organized riot as she ran from village to village, attacking the temples and the Spirit Priestesses who used their considerable psychic power to crush the brains of the attacking mob. People had dropped to the ground around her as she ran, blood oozing from their eyes, nose, and ears and with some their heads split open as their brains exploded from the inside.

The sun had barely moved across the sky and already five of the ten villages had fallen and three of the hated Spirit Priestesses and been destroyed. While the rebellion was experiencing success the tactic used to defeat the powerful Spirit Priestesses was costly in lives. Numbers would be the only advantage the humans possessed as they would push inexorably forward with the people at the front falling so those following might reach the target. In their desperate madness they would tread over fallen comrades, throwing weapons or firing the dreaded muskets. The Spirit Priestess with her servants would ultimately be overwhelmed and crushed beneath a stampeding wave of humanity.

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          Adrenalin fueled her desperation as an exhausted Maran followed her husband forward. She had lost the pitch fork at the last temple, she had thrown it at a fleeing temple servant. She did not know, or even care if she had struck her target and now simply ran empty handed with the mob. Each village filled the depleted ranks with fresh bodies as they moved through town after town. By the thousands now, they poured out onto the road that led them to their next target. Maran had lost count how many they had gone through and how many people had died, she was so tired and wanted desperately to go back to her daughter ... could this town possibly be the last?  Then she saw the Spirit Priestess's temple on a small rise at the far end of the village.

      Maran saw her standing in the temple spire, her blue robe blowing in the wind, her pale white skin and blue hair visible to the throng that yelled and charged towards her. The few servants and temple priestess standing with her broke and ran as the screaming mass of angry humans approached. At that moment Maran  realized she was near the front,  she looked at the people around her, all were unrecognizable, her friends and fellow villagers lost or already dead. She wanted to stop, to lay down, she did not want to die but her husband looked knowingly into her eyes and took her hand, she kept running.

         The living wall moved inexorably forward, as one human fell another took their place and suddenly Maran found herself at the forefront of the charging mob. She thought of her daughter and the sacrifice she was about to make, she would never again hear her daughters voice, feel her embrace or smell her hair. Tears streamed down her face but she kept going knowing those behind needed her to keep moving forward ... she felt her husband's hand clench around hers then watched as he abruptly lurched forward his head exploding from the inside showering her with blood and pieces of his brain, she felt the pressure in her head and dropped hard to her knees.

"Our daughter will be free," she gasped.