A Twist Of Fate A Percy Jackson and Eragon Crossover

The religion of Helgrind

Percy's pov

I watched as a large group of people walked toward the base of Helgrind, many of them appeared to be missing limbs, one person who was being carried on a litter, appeared to have no limbs at all.

"The priests of Helgrind," Eragon explained.

"Can they use magic?" Roran asked,

"Possibly. I dare not explore Helgrind with my mind until they leave, for if anyare magicians, they will sense my touch, however light, and our presence will be revealed."

Behind the priests trudged a double line of young men swathed in gold cloth. Each carried a rectangular metal frame subdivided by twelve horizontal crossbars from which hung iron bells. Half of the young men shook their frames when they stepped forward with their right foot, producing depressing sounding notes, while the other half shook their frames when they advanced upon the left foot, causing a mournful racket that echoed over the hills. The boys accompanied the throbbing of the bells with their own cries, groaning and shouting in an ecstasy of passion

At the rear of the grotesque procession appeared to be a large group of inhabitants from Dras-Leona. They stopped at the edge of the steep mound of scree that ringed Helgrind, the priests gathered on either side of a rust colored boulder with a polished top. When the entire column stood motionless before the crude altar, the creature upon the litter stirred and began to chant in a voice as discordant as the moaning of the bells. The Priest's declamations were repeatedly interrupted by gusts of wind, and even when it wasn't I found it difficult to understand anything that was being said. the few words I did catch I didn't always recognize. a few sounded like the ancient language—strangely twisted and mispronounced— along with other words I didn't recognize that I thought could be either dwarf or Urgal words. I also caught a few words that sounded like old English. What I did understand gave me the impression that they weren't talking about sunshine and rainbows.

At the end of that screwed up sermon, two of the lesser priests rushed forward and lifted their leader off the litter and onto the face of the altar. Then the High Priest issued a brief order. Twin blades of steel winked like stars as they rose and fell. A small stream of blood sprayed from each of the High Priest's shoulders, flowed down the leather encased torso, and then pooled across the boulder until it overflowed onto the gravel below. Two more priests jumped forward to catch the crimson flow in goblets that, when filled to the rim, were distributed among the members of the congregation, who eagerly drank.

"Gar!" said Roran in an undertone. "You failed to mention that those errant flesh-mongers, those gore-bellied, boggle-minded idiot worshipers were cannibals."

"Not quite. They do not partake of the meat." Eragon replied.

I replied, "Maybe not, but even the ancient Greeks and Romans from my homeland weren't this bad, the worst they ever did was sacrifice animals to their gods. They didn't chop off their own limbs and drink blood for their gods,"

I noticed Eragon frown when I mentioned animal sacrifice, but he didn't comment. I could tell Roran looked slightly bothered as well, although not as much as Eragon. I decided to explain further, "Although they believed in the same gods I do, we don't really honour the gods in the same ways they did. we still sacrifice to them, we just give them a little of our own meal or other things of value. the ancient Greeks and Romans lived hundreds of years ago," They nodded in understanding and we continued to watch the priests and their messed up rituals. For a while The head priest just talked and I couldn't even hear that much of it, eventually though I saw those who listened take out a small, curved knife and, one by one, cut themselves in the crook of their elbows and anoint the altar with a stream of their blood.