The Monolith of Yoggaroth

One of our first stories of Lachlan, the second of its kind

I

The wind howled and screeched across the desert dunes. Its cries and those of more than ten thousand years screeched from across countless ages and eras, throughout the great Azathoth Canyons. The canyons were more than five hundred kilometres in length and each cliff was more than double that in size, with most who wandered into that place, prone to feeling small and insignificant. A thousand legends rebounded, as though carried by the very winds that carried through the landscape, howling and shrieking in terror of it. And each of those legends and tales told of untold evils, and horrors that few men could imagine.

The canyons were well-known ones to the local Ifriquyan tribesmen as it was there that they whispered that all the darkness of the kingdom had originated from. For many generations many had avoided that place, believing it to be cursed even though it ran from the south-east and almost straight into the heart of the long pear-shaped kingdom.

Hidden from much of the kingdom, especially those who avoided the canyons as best they possibly could, was the Column of Yoggaroth. Built in the most ancient of periods of history, so that it predated the kingdom by several millennia, it was said to have been built by the forebears of the Makoko dynasty. However, a great many knew better.

Kaba for example was among those who knew the Column to predate the kingdom, by millennia. Where others found the air near the Column stifling, the cloaked figure who stood at the heart of the religious site of the Cult of the Golden-Circle as it was known, found it comforting. It was as good as home to him, and a great many others of his brothers.

Against all expectations, as though in defiance of the cold wind that slashed through the canyon, and the cold runes that decorated the pillar, a sudden light tore its way up the stone-monument. It was as though some great and mighty inner sun had awoken in the dead of night, from within it. So blinding was the light that emanated from within that few of those gathered could bear to look upon the light for long.

Only Kaba stared intently, expectantly.

He had done so many times in the past. On countless nights since he was but a novice, within his Order and yet where others hoped for and expected it to be different from all the other times, he did not.

The sacrifice had been properly prepared according to the writings from their oldest tome, that of the founder of their Order. Yet, the sacrifice was not a befitting one in his view, and he had warned the others before the blood had stained the altar that it would be so, yet many of the younger men were not to be dissuaded. So that here they now stood, and knelt before the bloodstained altar, a great many bowing reverently. Each of them expectant that the sacrifice brought hither and offered up by Wakomi would do what hundreds if not thousands of others had failed to do; open the gateway for Yoggaroth to enter the world once more.

The lights of the pillar burst to light, then slowly died away.

The great monolithic pillar, the pillar of Yoggaroth remained as dark and remote as it had before the sacrifice. Many of the members of his cult looked at one another, uncertain and confused, none of them quite knowing what to say or do under the circumstances. Some continued to stare at the pillar hopefully, expectant of some sign, some miracle. None came.

It was thus with a sigh of resignation that Kaba accepted the situation as it was. He had hoped and hoped and hoped, and had prayed that this would not be the result, however the situation was, what it was.

“What shall we do Kaba? The sacrifice was not enough! Where are we to look to, in this direst of hours?” Wakomi demanded of the head of the Followers of Yoggaroth, risking a glance at the inscriptions that were engraved onto the pillar many eons ago. “We were tasked with his return to the world, and if we fail, what will become of our people? Of the Kingdom of Makoko? Are we to be swallowed up by our neighbours, and by the desert sands?”

“Enough Wakomi,” Kaba snapped sharply, “I was prepared for just such a possibility.”

“What?”

“We will simply appeal to the King and his sister, the Princess Adia,” Kaba replied quietly, his eyes upon the stars, and the night-sky. “We will reconvene in a month’s time. At present this meeting is ended, return to thy homes and prepare for the New Year’s Festival, my brothers and sisters.”

II

It was not just great cries of pain that the wind carried through the air of the canyon, but dark and deep secrets that it brought along with it as it left that place. Or so it might have seemed, as deep within the great palace that lay at the heart of the Kingdom of Makoko, a palace that had stood there for nigh on two thousand years, and which stood nearly fifty meters high and thrice that in length and width. Majestic and great, it was a wonder onto itself, and was built of the finest sandstones one could find in the whole of Ifriquya.

Built almost in the shape of a great step pyramid it was a magnificent building with a multitude of floors, with the great thirty meter long and wide palace blocked from the rest of the city by a series of ten meter high walls. These great walls were built in the current King’s father’s time after the previous gates had rotted away, with the great builder-king having decided to rebuild not only those walls, but also those around his city.

The city, the largest in the whole of that part of Ifriquya was remarkable for the near twelve million souls that resided within it. The ‘Jewel of Makoko’ it was called. It was not simply a great urban center but also the religious center and where a great deal of trade was to be found in the southern parts of Ifriquya.

Deep within the Scarlet Palace as it was called, for the great red stones that were used in the construction of the keep, on the top-most floor where Adia’s bedchambers were to be found, the princess tossed and turned. Asleep amidst silk sheets, the princess’s ebony skin glistened with sweat borne not from the unendurable heat that the twin suns’ always seemed to bear down upon Ifriquya. Hardly dressed the beautiful young woman was covered by silk drapes rather than the tiger furs or lioness furs she might otherwise have favoured during the ordinarily chilly nights.

 Tossing and turning, the nubile princess was to cry out in her sleep and weep many times as some great oppressive force bore down upon her. The more she sought to pull away from the wretched, terrible visions of the disembodied monsters that plagued her and had haunted her sleep for some time.

It was with a great deal of horror that she at last heard the terrible voice of her tormentor; call out one last time to her. “Adddddiiiiiiaaaaaaaa! You are miinnnneeee!”

Stricken Adia at last tore herself awake, and out from the nether-realms to which her mind and spirit had been cast. Awakening with a shriek, a number of Adia’s handmaidens were torn from their dreamless sleep and to leap over to her side to attempt to comfort her.

“Milady, milady it was naught but a dream! It was naught but another of your dreams,” They sought to assure her to no avail.

“I must speak with my brother!” She proclaimed to them, wrestling herself free from their comforting hands, and calling for them to help her dress herself.

This they did if reluctantly so. It was their view she should weep more, she should let them comfort her and let them pity her.

Such things though were beneath her, for she knew that to fall to self-pity and tears would avail her nothing. They could not assist her, only hinder her in what was to come. And there was much that was to happen in the hours and days that were to come. This much she had foreseen over the previous night and this one.

It was why once she had been properly dressed in a yellow silk dress that hugged her buxom figure tightly, and her hair had been properly knotted, and twined together down the length of her back that she made her way out from her wealthy bedchambers. Drawing herself up to her brother’s megaron from where he ruled over the whole of his realm, when not travelling about from estate to estate.

*****

Her brother had already gone to bed hours earlier, yet having been awoken by servants who had alerted him to the fact that his sister had had a series of visions once more. This had taken place in the past, and most times when they had taken place, they had been useful to him with regards to diplomacy or war.

These newest visions were somehow more terrible than any potentially lost alliance, or potential war could prove itself to be. A stout man dressed in golden robes, and with a great black cloak with gold trimmings, he sat upon his golden leopard-headed throne with the armrests of the great chair cast in the shape of leopards also.

The throne sat at the top of a great series of stone-steps (seven in total), and was designed so that men must crane up their necks, with the princess hardly doing so. This was because she was busy pacing back and forth, such was the franticness of the storm of emotions that had gripped her, with her elder brother wiping at his eyes even as he yawned wearily. Attempting to stifle the fatigue that still clung to him not unlike a cloud, he prayed if quietly so for there to be something tangible of these visions for him to act upon.

He needs not have asked, for his sister as though she had read his thoughts, spoke up once more, addressing that very desire if without knowing it.

“We must seek out a man of foreign roots, who does not belong here. He appeared to me in a vision, one connected to the Order of Yoggaroth,” Princess Adia informed her brother who took this news with a great deal of consternation. “He is a man tall as none others are, mighty and yet pale in a way no man of Makoko is, and with scarlet hair which is the same colour as the blood that sustains all men’s lives.”

Any other person he might have assumed they had lost their wits. But his younger half-sister was priestess of Amon, and therefore no ordinary woman. She had proven herself time and again, a pious woman and one blessed by the gods, and not just any god but the sun-god. That most powerful and most fickle of forces in the universe.

It was for this reason that he did not scorn her words, or her warnings. Rather he took in what she told him, and with a slow nod of his dark head agreed. “Very well then sister, I will summon my captains and ask of them of those sell-swords who have recently entered our lands, to see if there is indeed a foreigner pale and with hair the colour of blood.”

*****

The order was sent out, and no sooner had it been carried out to the captains than one of them was to grow troubled.

This captain was none other than captain Damian, a loyal man. He was head of a sell-sword company however, since he had first come to Makoko he had come to love his position. A careworn traveller who had fought across many lands, and who had become exiled from Orissia, he was by this time already quite attached to the kingdom. Tamba was far fairer and more kingly than any of those monarchs he had served to the north, so that the captain could only wonder at the reason for which the man had called for one of his men.

“Are you certain?” He asked of the King’s representatives, bewildered by the strange demand of the monarch.

It happened that the captain was to consult with the men still further, seeking to shield what he termed his ‘best man’. In command of more than five hundred men, most of whom had been recruited far to the north in the Orissian Empire, he had found the youth in that region.

Seeing his attachment to the man, the messenger suspicious and convinced now that this sell-sword was surely in contact in some way with the man whom his liege wished caught. “Give him over, for the King has requested he be handed over to him, and seized.”

Reluctantly, Damian who though attached to the man he had met in Orissia and had recruited into his men’s ranks, agreed to finger him out. “He ought to be in the barracks, or he might be found in the local taverns or brothels, which is where he always finds his way to when he grows bored of his barracks.”

*****

The King’s messenger did as bidden, and was to indeed begin a search of the local pubs and brothels alongside a number of guards.

The man in question that the King desired seized, was to be found in the local pub whereupon he was seized whilst in a drunken stupor so that when he awoke, he was to find himself caged and in chains. Humiliated by this strange turn in his fortunes, the warrior was to attempt to throw himself against the cell-door, only for his chains to pull him short of the bars to his cell.

Bellowing he was to behave as any man in love with freedom was bound to do, utterly enraged and displeased by the prospect of chains. Yet unable to break free, it was soon reported to the likes of the King and his sister that the barbarian had been captured, to which the two of them reacted in different ways.

King Tamba was relieved thinking he had done as his sister had recommended, where she was utterly distressed. “How could this come about? I had said he is crucial to our survival and must be found. Found not imprisoned!”

“What? Oh if such be the case I shall order his release at once!” The monarch growled irritated that he and his servants had misunderstood her meaning.

“At once brother,” Adia pressed him urgently, from where she stood by his throne tugging at the sleeve of his royal robes.

Her brother worried for her health and that she might worry herself until she swooned, was to acquiesce eyes dark with melancholy. It was not often that he brooded, and yet this was one such time when he could not help himself.

Once the man was unchained, and had been offered fresh clothes, to which he calmed himself having come near to slaughtering three of the servants sent to liberate him. Suspicious by nature now, he agreed to go up the steps and enter the throne room. An honour they assured him most of those of peasant or foreign birth were forbidden from ever looking forward to.

Indifferent to these facts, the man was invited to the throne room where he looked all about himself curiously for several minutes, before he ultimately lost interest. His gaze focused itself upon the food on the table that had been set aside for the royals and him.

“It is a great honour to eat with the royal family,” he was told by the royal chamberlain who had escorted him into the throne-room. The nobleman was as dark-skinned as most of the people of Makoko were and was dressed in rich white and gold-trimmed silk robes, with his head clean-shaven.

Hardly impressed by him or his appearance, the nobleman could only bring himself to glance on occasion at the man he had been sent to bring forth. His hair was unkempt, his gait more akin to that of some of the panthers he had seen in the royal zoo near the palace and his eyes burning green, frightened the sheltered nobleman. He had never seen a man like this one, and never before seen one discard a silk shirt in favour of a roughly woven one, with a sniff of disdain as this one had in the prison cell.

Approaching the table which had plates full of peacock meat, tiger meat, mutton, ox meat and also vegetables such as bananas, pineapple and a variety of others, the barbarian set about devouring them with such fervour that it disgusted the nobleman.

Standing at attention on the other side of the table, the King studied the man who had all but ignored him with a stern eye, while his sister stared visibly disturbed and frightened. Never before had she seen a man eat in such a manner or seemed so dangerous, if his gait was anything to judge by.

Far in a way wilder than any of the priestly clergy who often attended her, or the ladies that waited upon her hand and foot, both of whom often ate daintily. Certainly there were many of her brother’s warriors who ate roughly, tearing at what food they could with their hands and teeth. A great many of them doing so only after they had hewed the food apart though, with their bronze-knives. Still though, most tore into their food with a hint of embarrassment or an attempt at propriety since they were in the presence of the rulers of Makoko.

This man though tore into it, ignoring it seemed the presence of the two royals or otherwise indifferent to them. It was at last as he finished tearing into a lamb-bone that he at last looked upon them with his emerald gaze, which blazed like green fire. “Why did you imprison me, only to free me?”

The King startled at this rather forward, and unexpected question from their guest, and clearing his throat he struggled to express what had happened, how he had misunderstood his sister’s counsel. It happened that his sister was a little more put together, and quicker to answer the question, “It happened that I have had terrible visions, sent to me by Yoggaroth, and more recently prayed to Amon for assistance and he has gifted me with the knowledge that you are the one to rescue our nation from its doom!”

The man studied her, visibly surprised just as her brother was. However, after a moment he asked of her with a slightly raised brow, “And why should that concern me?”

It was a question to which she was not fully prepared. The god Amon, had not prepared her for doubt on his part, but rather had shown her, the foreigner in the midst of helping them. Exchanging a nervous glance with her brother who losing his patience, was to strike the wooden table with a heavily ringed fist, “We have paid you amply, what more could you possibly desire foreigner?”

Lachlan grunted discontentedly, it was with a restraining hand on her brother’s arm that Adia was to then address the barbarian, “Is there anything else we might interest you in? Perhaps we could offer more coin, if it will persuade you to stay here, and to hunt the Cult of Yoggaroth?”

It was as she leant forward ever so slightly; innocent to how her robe opened slightly to allow him a great view of her breasts that he studied with keen interest.

When the young woman coloured and drew back, realizing where he had been staring ever so boldly, it was with more than a little disconcertment that she saw how unabashed he was by everyone’s disapproval. Never had a man studied her quite so openly, save mayhaps for Lord Kaba who was however the principal man that her brother had considered for her hand in marriage.

If her brother fumed at the thought of a foreigner studying his sister with such keen interest, the handmaidens offended at his boldness, and the guards insulted, the barbarian continued to study her with keen interest. His interest had been awakened, and it was not to lie dormant, nor was it to be denied as he continued to look on her with visible desire, hungry as a tiger when it found prey to its liking.

Flushing all the more, Adia drew back, a strange heat working its way through her as she felt for the first time, not as commanding as her brother but as shy as a dove, when faced by a hawk.

It was thus with a great deal of disappointment and uncertainty that she heard the foreign man request more coin, along with one of the silver chalices, after he studied the one in his left-hand with a great deal of interest. “More coin is certainly something I should like, though what of this silver-chalice? I should like it for my own.”

The indifference in his voice hardly convinced any of them, these were truly what he wished from them, so that King Tamba looked on his guest with continued uncertainty. He was however to reply by saying, “You may keep it, I have dozens of others like it, imported from Orissia, with whom we enjoy a great deal of trade.”

“And tribute,” added the warrior with a raised brow.

Tamba flushed scarlet at the implication, outraged at the pointed remark so that he shook and trembled where he stood. “How dare you! I am every inch the King every single one of my predecessors and forefathers were before me!”

“I did not dispute that, rather I merely observed that you pay tribute to Orissia, for none in Ifriquya enjoy such splendour without first bowing before them.” The barbarian replied setting down the goblet, his green eyes staring through the warrior-king just before he settled his gaze once more upon the man’s sister. “There is no shame in it, you know your limits and that is good and right for a man to do. Only fools challenge those they have no hope to defy, and topple.”

Unsure of how to respond to those words, he was however to ask of the man before him, amazed and confused, “Just who are you, warrior?”

“I am Lachlan… a Caled,” the other man replied quietly, ere he regained his feet, “If I am to serve as a guard or hero for your sister, I shall have need of weapons, and armour. Along with knowledge of those whom she fears, O King of the lands of the Makoko.”

There was a faint hint of mockery in those last words, so that Tamba opened his mouth once more to retort furiously when suddenly his sister spoke out once more.

“I am tired, and would retire to my bedchambers, to meditate and pray for another vision,” Adia declared to her brother, resting her hand once more upon his elbow. “Brother, we have need, of Lachlan the Caled, and therefore I would beg of you to not behave so hastily with regards to him.”

Tamba looked prepared to argue, but with a growl of discontent he ceded and turning away as he grabbed one of the nearby goblets, he drank deeply from the wine. He loved his sister dearly, and considered her wiser than all his advisors, more loyal than all his warriors and as much a lady to be honoured as his wife, the lady Amenria.

As he watched the warrior accept a hauberk from Damian who had been summoned to find him more appropriate armour for the guardian of the princess, before the man left to follow her to her bedchambers, Tamba wondered: Who was going to protect Adia from Lachlan?

*****

It was when they stood alone within the confines of her bedchambers, that the princess became most aware of his presence. She might well have ordered him out of her bedchambers then and called for her handmaidens, were it not for the suddenness with which he stood so near to her, so that he almost seemed to be smothering her with his physical presence.

Whatever words she might well have uttered objecting to his sudden presence before her, was stifled by his lips pressing themselves upon her own. Pulling her to him, with a growl that might have resulted from the throat of a wolf, Lachlan seemed almost intent upon devouring her. Just as his hunger for food had been a sight to behold, and had proven all devouring, so too was his hunger for Adia.

For several minutes she gave way to him, hardly able to resist after a lifetime of chastity and of awaiting her brother to select a husband for her, the passion of the barbarian. From the moment she had seen him in the flesh, he had fascinated her as no other man could, he had awakened in her a strange awareness of her own femininity.

How far things might have progressed none could say, or so Adia hoped, were it not for the sudden cry from her handmaiden Oko. “Princess! What is this?”

“No! Leave this place! Leave me!” Adia yelled pushing herself away from him, horrified to have been caught kissing one so far beneath her station. “You go too far!”

“What is the matter with you? You shan’t deny that you kissed me with equal fervour, and burn no less with passion than that handmaid of yours burns, for having peeked in on us.” Lachlan bellowed furiously, angry at his passion being interrupted.

Still though, Adia would not waver. Her handmaid flushed red now also, or redder it should be said. The two women mortified and outraged by his comportment.

Seeing that he could not sway her, Lachlan was to turn away with a growl and a curse in his native tongue.

Banished from her presence, Lachlan was to storm out with a huff, not entirely dissimilar to that of a disappointed, annoyed leopard. Shaken, by the sudden fervour of the passion that had rocked her own being, Adia was to struggle to regain her calm as a strange new fire burnt its way through her. One that seemed to almost dwarf that which she had always felt for Hathor and Amon-Re, the gods of her house, passed down for centuries in her family.

Where the princess was to truly struggle with the regaining of her calmness, of her centre her new guard was to only regain some measure of serenity when invited to play at dice with another of the guards. Always fond of such games, the youthful warrior was to soon lose all sense of time (and responsibility) as he gambled ever more coin, with the darker-skinned warrior who was simply happy to have found someone else to pass the most tedious hours of guard-duty with.

It was thus a shock to the two of them, when after several more hours they heard a great cry echo from within the princess’ bedchambers.

Moving at once, with a rapidity that no other man alive could match, Lachlan was to once he had thrown open the door, throw himself across the large room. Staring at him for several seconds though, was the dark face of Kaba who holding down the wrestling princess threw himself over the side of the balcony, down into the chariot below, tearing a path through the night with one great and loud chortle.

III

Following Adia’s screams with ease, it was not long before the King’s guard fell back, hardly able to race for quite as long as the barbarian from the north. Neither the handmaidens nor those warriors sworn to the house of Tamba could quite believe their eyes, as Lachlan threw himself forward into the dark of night, with neither fear, no hesitation, nor the slightest hint of breathlessness, after nigh on an hour of running. Through the plains they went, cutting and hewing their way it seemed through the plains that stretched on for a great many miles outside the city.

The city was a densely populated place to be sure, but as it was the middle of the night few dared step out from within their homes. Many were those that hid trembling within the confines of their homes, praying with all their hearts that the shouts and cries in the night were proof that the royal guard had captured the interloper into the midst of their city.

Many dared however to poke their heads outside, and for those still awake screams of fright were torn from their lips as Kaba’s chariot burst through the muddy unpaved streets of the city, with no further a thought to those before him than he gave to the sentiments of a flea or horse. It was thus with a great deal more interest in those who had lagged some distance behind him that, the nobleman was shaken to his very core to see Lachlan giving chase on foot. The sight of him was made all the more dreadful, than his angry expression by how he almost drew near, and never seemed to relent from his pursuit of them.

Seeing the progress that the foreign warrior had not only not given up, but had seized a horse just outside a tavern, for himself with which to give chase after Kaba, he was to call out to his god. “Yoggaroth smite him! Smite him with thy divine fury, and shield us from the harm that he means for the people of this kingdom!”

As though summoned by that cry, a great many archers suddenly appeared from among the foothills to the south-east of the city, arriving from the smaller villages nearby. Some were to arrive upon the scene with bows and arrows in hand. Their aim was good, though Lachlan could tell that few if any of them were properly seasoned as he avoided most of the missiles with ease.

It was one of these arrows however that tore through the air, and into the side of King Tamba who was not far behind the barbarian. A great cry erupted from the throats of some of the cultists as they charged forward, eager to lay claim to their King and to see him torn asunder. The King, who had ridden hard and had inadvertently put some distance between him and his guards, was temporarily cornered with nowhere to run.

Sword in hand, he prepared to make a fight of it, with Lachlan turning his steed about to go back, his own sword soon in hand.

The fight that ensued was a short one, as Lachlan tore through the ranks of the fifteen men not unlike a ravenous beast, keen to tear with its fangs through the flesh of a helpless hare. None of them could do much more than cry out, scream in horror or futilely attempt to fly from before Tamba.

By the time that he had finished hewing down the last of their numbers, Lachlan turned to continue to give chase after the head of the Order of Yoggaroth, only to find the man little more than a dot in the distance. Making for the great canyons and cliffs that pockmarked the south-east of the realm of Makoko with the screams and cries for help of Adia echoing throughout the land.

“Lachlan, you must give chase after him, he cannot be allowed to carry out his nefarious plans for my sister Adia,” Tamba told him, adding for good measure, “Many in my court revere Yoggaroth, as a god of ‘unsullied light’ or the ‘morning light’. However, he is no such thing but rather a demon, a devil of the most diabolic sort. It is said in our annals, it was he whom our ancestor banished with the Sphere of Hathor.”

“And where is this Sphere? Could it be used against him once more?” Lachlan demanded of the prince, who shook his head ruefully.

“It has not shone since the time of Makoko, so that it could well just be a legend.” Tamba admitted with a pained expression on his face, just as his guards began to arrive. Lachlan considered his words, and turning to leave he was halted by the other man, who though he still had two arrows protruding from his side had only concern for his beloved elder half-sister. “Lachlan of Caledonia, I beg of you, to save her and to stop these monsters! They shan’t be allowed to sacrifice her!”

Turning to leave, Lachlan was to follow after the cult, chasing after them as he followed the trail they left, eyes glued to the ground where their tracks were to be found. It would be among those canyons, those cliffs that he would search for her, slipping among the shadows of the statues that were carved from the very granite of the mountains and canyons themselves.

The statues became all the more distinctive, all the more recognizable as statues and monoliths of the once ruling cult of Makoko the deeper he went, and the nearer he came to the heart of the canyon where Kaba and his fellow traitors worshipped the monstrous Yoggaroth.

IV

The chanting of the members of the cult of Yoggaroth continued to grow, with each passing second. A number of the members of the cult were bowing before the great monolith of the great ‘god of light’ that they revered above all else, and that Adia had mentioned as the chief deity of the prior dynasty, that of the Makoko. Staring at them from the shadows, as he advanced quiet as a panther and no less ferociously, moving from shadows to light with little thought for himself. He had eyes only for the tightly bound princess, who looked fearfully on all the members of the Order of Yoggaroth.

Leering at her, cheerful in the face of her terror and horror, Kaba boasted even as he presided over the ceremony, with a great deal of relish. “We stand now before the Monolith of Yoggaroth, with the greatest of all our sacrifices presented before you, O King of the Morning Light!”

He went on to say a great deal more, keen as he was to make a great show of the power of his piety for his god. Much of what he wished to say, was in celebration of this great day that he had promised not only to the cult, but also to Yoggaroth. He was keen to remind them one and all, of the great accomplishment it was to have at last captured a member of the royal family, and how after a great many millennia Yoggaroth would soon walk the earth once more. “We have crossed from the realm of sorrow and of yesteryear and into that of dreams! Once more the great light, the third sun shall shine upon this land, after it was banished by the traitor Kaba more than two centuries ago when he established his impious, heretical line and its worship of Amon-Re!”

A great cry arose from within his midst, as the nearest to the rear fell back, or fell to the ground dead. Stunned and alarmed by this, panic soon broke out among the various members of the Order of Yoggaroth.

Hardly able to believe the great swell of shrieks and horror that consumed his brothers, Kaba was to turn to find himself faced with the furious Lachlan. Amazed at the sight of the barbarian, he was to retreat a few steps, only to turn to Wakomi, “Stop him! Grab what weapons you can, and stop him! We must halt him until Yoggaroth of the Morning-Light has returned!”

Turning away to see to the final sacrifice, he was to continue the ceremony proper, chanting in the most ancient tongue of the land of Makoko, as he drew from within the folds of his robes a jagged silver-glittering knife. Sharp and pointed, it could well have hewed apart ring-mail if used properly.

Running it along the fearful Adia’s left cheek he whispered to her, “Now my intended, we shall see to correcting the great wrong your ancestor did our people.”
“Please Kaba, you know this to be wrong! Yoggaroth is no god but a demon!” Adia replied shrilly, begging not for herself but for his own sake.

“Silence! I will not listen to this heresy!” Kaba yelled only to grasp the hand of the young woman, and to slice it open.

Crying out in pain, tears welling in her eyes as she saw her blood pour out from her small hand, and onto the nearby altar it happened that just as before, the great light of the Monolith began to grow bright.

Pleased by this, and by the acceptance of the first outpouring of the blood of Adia, daughter of the house of Makoko, Kaba was to let loose a great cry of joy.
This just before he was slapped aside, and thrown off his feet, by the infuriated Lachlan who was struggling not just against a number of enemies armed with swords but unarmed foes. Some had thrown themselves against him, grasping at his arms, legs and waist with their arms as they struggled to hold him back, to keep him from advancing upon the likes of the princess.

Remembering what was said to him about the Sphere of Hathor, and seeing the great light that shone down upon them from the Monolith’s spidery runes, Lachlan grasped a hold of the great gemstone that hung from the princess’ dark neck.

It was then that they all bore witness to a great miracle, a great event that none had foreseen, not even the princess who was also chief seer of the realm of Makoko. The Sphere of Hathor the great stone that was said to have been given from Amun-Re to his bride when he married her, and that she had given to the hero Makoko, began to glow and shine with a brightness that far surpassed that of even the twin suns’ in the skies. Amazed, everyone stared and cried out, just as the Monolith’s light reached its peak.

Moving to try to plunge his dagger into the heart of Adia, Kaba was however to prove too late as to his utter shock and bewilderment, Lachlan’s sword was plunged forward and into his chest. “N-no!” He cried out futilely, stumbling back once more.

The last thing he was to see was pouring down from the darkest storm-clouds he had ever seen in all his life, the palest and most golden of thunder tear itself down through the heavens.

The burst of light thundered and boomed as it poured down upon the great monolith that had begun to shine. The explosion of stone and light that resulted tore apart the oldest living monument ever built in the land of Makoko with such force that the vast majority of the stones were melted or thrown through this statue or that canyon wall.

Striking at the chains as this happened, with his steel sword the mighty barbarian was to pluck Adia from before the monument, and begin to hurry from that place, just before the lightning struck. He was joined in this by a great stampede of fearful cultists, who had quite forgotten him. All save Wakomi who yelled out to his brethren, “Wait! This must be the will of Yoggaroth, stop! We must draw nearer to his light-”

The man was to lay hands upon the monolith, at which time he was reduced to ash, so that there was not even bones left of him.

*****

Shaken by the experience, it was with more than a little fear and relief that Adia clung to Lachlan, grateful for him, for his strength and to have survived the experience, as her brother’s men poured forth. Their spears and swords soon drenched in the blood of the Order of Yoggaroth who were soon cleansed from the realm of Makoko.

She could tell at once with a glance that Lachlan wished to be among those killing, and hewing apart the lives of their enemies. Yet he restrained himself. It was with a glance, and more than a little of that old heat from before that she realized why he did so; it was wholly and entirely for her sake.

This time when he made to kiss her, she really did swoon into his arms and was not ashamed to hear herself plead with him, “Stay! Stay herein Makoko! Stay with Tamba and I!”

A growl and a feral grin were all the affirmation she received, before he took her into another of his hungry kisses that left her breathless.

As they explored one another then, near the entry to the great canyons, the wind howled once more as the dawn broke through the storm-clouds for the first time, in a great many days.