The Daemonae-The First The First They were a simple people, living in a world without dreams. They tended and herded the Masters flocks without a thought, not a glance to the tropical paradise that they inhabited. But the Master grew bored with his lifeless people. He deemed them plain and obedient. They never strived, just merely toiled, so, the Master grew more impatient, and in his self-righteous boredom, he made The Others, whom was fair of face and dark of heart. These Others were favoured by the Master. He delighted in their antics, and soon their numbers grew. They grew like a plague across the land, and looked upon The First with disgust. They were shunned, and belittled, and the Master turned his great countenance away from his herdsmen, to shine more favourably to the Others. Then the great fear struck. The Others were disgusted by the appearance of the First. They deemed that they were the rightful heirs to the Place. Why, for were not they fairer of face? Did they not please the Master more? The Master had a great love of these creatures, for they were utterly beguiling, and he turned his back on The First. He listened to the Others, and believed them when they said that The Others had been rutting with the animals, and did not the Master see that they were abnormalities? Amongst the new peoples, as they now called themselves, these Others were nothing more than freaks of nature, incapable of doing the Masters work, idle and with faces that were displeasing. The Master, as he loved his new peoples, agreed, and sent The First underground, so that their faces would not cause his beloved repulsion and fear. Soon, they were forgotten, entombed under the living earth, while the new peoples bred and multiplied by the millions. They gave themselves a new name, �Mankind�, and soon they had forgotten about the Master. Jontile glanced up from the dusty tome that he had been reading. �Why did the Master favour them above us, Father?� �Because he grew blind and weary, my son.� Mysin looked down upon his boy �It is prophesised that we will return, and walk upon the great land again�� �But how can that be, when they are nothing more than zealots and bigots, whom live in fear and shame?� Jontile said striking a great fist at the granite wall. �Are we not freaks of nature, Father?� he demanded. �No Jontile. No, we are not.� he laid his hand on his sons heaving shoulder. �Maybe it was too soon for you. I should not have allowed you to read the Histories�� �I wanted to know.� He glanced at the figure of his sire. �I have a great thirst, Father�� �I know, Jontile. I know. I was the same myself. I wanted to know all about the Others. They seem to be a mystery. There have been few sightings. They are not what you think�� Jontile paced around the darkened room, his chest heaving. He passed a sideways glance at his father, Mysin. He had lowered his gaze, staring at the intricate patterns of entwined beasts that were gracefully carved into the grey granite floor. The fire had started in his belly again, and he knew of no way to calm it. It threatened to engulf his soul and very being. He leant his heavy head against the cool walls of his room, feeling the smooth stone caress his skin. �You are not well again, Jontile?� he heard his father state quietly behind him. �It is the ague again, father.� he sighed. He felt a rough hand touch at the delicate membrane of his folded wings, and turning he faced Mysin. �What am I to do father�� he pleaded. *** Carys sat in her bedroom, idly plucking the lilac check duvet between nervous fingers. She gazed out of the open window-a testament to forbidden cigarettes. The moon rose full, casting a spherical silver shadow over the next door neighbour�s house. In the distance, she heard a shrill yowl, causing her to squirm in alarm. �Goddamned cat� she whispered thankfully. She glanced down at the book laying flat on its pages, the cover revealing monsters from another time. �Bloody well spooked myself�I should stop reading horrors. Small wonder that I can�t bloody sleep� She smiled wryly. �As if there are monsters anyway�! The only monsters that I ever see are the locals in the pub!� She unfolded her long bare legs, and rose from the bed. She walked over to the dressing table and picked up the discarded packet of cigarettes. Thinking that she should be really giving them up, she flicked the packet open, and lit one, inhaling deeply. A light breeze ruffled the silk of her slip. The sound of a beer cans skittering made her rush to the window. Maybe Louie was on his way home, drunk again, no doubt. She knew that she was foolish, after all, wasn�t he the one that had cheated on her�but no, she conceded, she couldn�t bear to be alone anymore, and after all, the sex was pretty darned good. She breathed out a cloud of blue grey smoke. He didn�t approve of her smoking. Not that it was any of his damned business. He reckoned that kissing her was like sharing a kiss with a mouldy old ash tray. So what, she thought, feeling rebellious now that he was not there. She always felt brave when he was out. Silence, again. She liked the dark. She was never a sickly scaredy-cat of a child. Independence had been thrust on her from an early age. Carys considered herself tough, well at least she thought she was, but Louie had seen that spark in her, and realising that she would be no pushover, had been determined to try to beat the confidence out of her, literally. �Why do I put up with it?� She asked herself. She knew the answer. The one thing that she couldn�t cope with was being on her own. God knows that she had spent enough lonely years in assorted care homes, shuttling from one place to another, just because her mother had been a dope head and a prostitute. �Dear Mama.� she sighed breathlessly. �I never knew you, did I?� She heard the sound of a key rattling in the door, and racing, she tossed the half smoked cigarette out of the open window. She grabbed at a bottle of Obsession perfume from the dressing table, knocking a box of cheap gold necklaces, brooches and rings to the floor in her haste. She went to kneel down to retrieve them, and realised that she hadn�t sprayed the perfume. The room lit up as Louie exploded in; the door banging into the wall as he drunkenly reeled in, his muddy motorcycle boots held loosely in one hand. He over exaggeratedly sniffed the air. �Have you been smoking?� he slurred at her. �You have, haven�t you? I can bloody well smell it�� his boyish face contorted in rage. �Goddamn you! Haven�t I bloody well told you enough times�?� He stomped across the floor, and raising his hand, he viciously slapped her across the face, and then he flung the boots at her, smiling contemptuously as the steel toe cap of one whipped into her cheek. She fell to the floor, her hand rising to cover the hurt. �I�m s-s-sorry� she stammered in fright. �You never learn do you?� he yelled into her face as he wrenched her up towards him with one hand. �Louie, please�please� �Hurting you am I? You whore!� He raised his hand, and slapped her again, sending her long raven hair spinning behind her. �Want another�?� He flung her across the bed. �And what�s this that I have been hearing about you anyway, whore? Tarting your wares at the pub again?� he demanded� Carys looked at him in shock, tears rolling down her cheek. Her arm throbbed where he had grabbed at her. �I only work there�� �I only work there�� he mimicked in a sing song voice. �Lou, you are drunk� she spat at him. �Fuck off!� He turned his back to her, his eyes sliding slyly across the room. He spied the open pack of cigarettes on the dressing table. �Ah-ha!� he said in triumph, as he picked the packet up. �Not smoking, eh?� Carys fearfully watched as he crumpled the cigarette packet in one hand, her eyes never leaving his all the while. He threw the balled up wad of broken cigarettes and cardboard away from him in disgust. �You know what�s coming, now, don�t you?� he slurred. She stared at him, trying to quell the fear in her rapidly beating heart. Her mouth was dry, and she nervously licked her lips, like a cat that has seen something distasteful. He lumbered heavily over towards her, grabbing at her with strong hands. She skittered across the bed, trying to evade him, all the while trying to muffle the sobs that were escaping her. Tears glistened like silver on her cheeks in the light, and run down her face spilling onto the rumpled duvet. �Come here, damn you!� he yelled at her. He climbed onto the bed, swaying slightly in his inebriation. He grabbed her slim ankle, and pulled her towards him. She fought at him, scratching at his hand with sharp lacquered fingernails but his grip was too strong for her, and she watched in alarm as he fumbled with the zipper of his jeans. �No Louie, don�t please��she begged him, but she saw the lustful look in his eyes, and knew that he wouldn�t stop. This had happened far too many times for her to be as naive to think that he wouldn�t. He straddled her, ripping at the shoulder of her slip in his haste for her to be parted with the flimsy material. He firmly grasped her bared breast in his rough hand, and she cried out in pain as he pinched the nipple between his unforgiving fingers. Let it be over. Let it be over she intoned monotonously to herself, as he clamped his mouth to hers. She felt an unwanted hardness poke at her inner thigh, and she clamped her teeth into his lip, spilling blood. She tried to push at him in her panic, as she felt his hardness bearing down on her. Grunting with exertion, he roughly pushed himself into her vagina, bruising her. Tears ran silently down her face as he moaned and thrust away inside her. Please, God, let it be over. *** The great hall was no more than a large cavernous hole really, thought Jontile, as he joined the heaving throng of his people. He glanced up at the domed ceiling, his amber eyes widening in appreciation. The hall had been created thousands of years ago by his ancestors, The Forthright, whom were greatly skilled in the art of stone manipulation. He felt his heart surge with love for the ancients, and in his excitement, his wings fluttered and vibrated at his back. �Jontile!� He glanced across and to his delight, he saw Ba�rath his oldest friend approach him. The light from a giant crystal set on an altar of carved mahogany in the middle of the large hall highlighted the twin curved buds on his forehead. �Ba�rath� he replied smiling. �There is to be a great feast tonight� Ba�rath said in a deep booming voice. �Do you know how many�?� �Alas, Rath, no!� Jontile said laughing. �I am not privy to scullery news, unlike some!� �They say that it is the time of the Ancients, again!� �That I disbelieve! No-one has ventured above in centuries!� he replied gently. �Not from above, Jontile. From below� Ba�rath whispered reverently. �They say that an Ancient First will be among us�� �Father never told me� Jontile said in mild annoyance. �Your father is not privy to information like that! There are not many that are!� �And you Ba�rath are privy to all news and gossip? That I do find unbelievable!� �This is no laughing matter, Jontile!� Ba�rath hissed at him, as he noticed that their conversation was not going unnoticed. �Tonight, it is a blood sacrifice. Blood to appease the Ancient. Man blood�� Jontile�s great head swivelled around to stare at him, the catlike amber eyes slitting as he stared at Ba�rath �Are you sure? A man sacrifice?� �Yes. The creature is shackled in the G�nizeds antechamber. I have seen it!� he boasted. �What does it look like?� Jontile asked him, his great leathery wings fluttering open on his back. �Calm yourself, Jontile�you are bringing attention to us!� Ba�rath cursed him. A small woman dressed in shabby grey rags approached them, hissing in a sibilant tongue. Her green eyes roved over them, and her tongue, cracked and yellow flickered out of the corner of a dry hard lipless mouth. �Be quiet, underlings. This is no time for your smart arsed wise cracks!� Ba�rath brought his head close to Jontile. �It is hairless, pink and small. Puny really.� he whispered. �Not much of a sacrifice at all� �Hush!� the sibilant woman, M�enes, hissed again. �If you are not quiet, perhaps the Ancient will favour the taste of your fresh lizard blood�!� �Lizard�!�Spluttered Ba�rath indignantly. *** Carys sat at the small table in the kitchen, staring vacantly at the rack of carving knives suspended over the cooker. One day, I swear I will, she thought, her fingers touching at her bruised mouth. She had left Louie snoring his head off in bed; there was no way that she was going to disturb his slumbers. He would awake when he did, probably in a foul mood, partly due to the raging hangover that he would suffer, but also in part because it was her fault in the first place. Smoking. Her fingers tapped a nervous tattoo on the melamine surface of the table. I really need a cigarette, she thought, anxiously. Her thoughts were interrupted by the shrill sound of the phone ringing. In her haste to get up and answer it, she cracked her shin against the table leg, enough to bring tears to her already damp eyes. �Hello?� �Is Louie there?� a husky female voice demurely asked. �He�s asleep�who is this?� �Just tell him it�s �Honey�, he�ll know!� �Sure�� �Oh, and be sure to tell him that I had a great time last night, sugar� �Pardon�?� A click and the phone was dead in her hand. Carys gazed around the small kitchen in complete and unbridled anger. Her eyes alighted on a butcher�s knife. She strode over and pulled it from the rack. �How fucking dare he!� She turned to see Louie shuffle into the room, sandy hair sticking up on the back of his head like an untidy corona. �How fucking dare he what?!� he demanded, groaning as he held his hung over head in one hand. �You go on about me smoking. You assault me. You rape me�and all the while you have been sleeping around? Who do you think you bloody well are?� �I am the person that has been keeping you safe from harm. I am the person that goes without, just to make sure that you don�t lack for anything�� �You assaulted me�it wasn�t the first time that you had�� Louie slumped into a chair. �It was mutual, love. I could see it in your eyes. Anyway, we are almost married. We live as common law husband and wife. Take that to the police, and you will find that they won�t do anything about it!� She leaned against the work surface, and silently put the knife down. Fresh tears coursed down her cheeks. He was right. There was nothing that she could do about it. �Face it love. I�m all that you�ve got!� he smirked. �Now be a good girl, and get me a cup of coffee� Carys put the kettle on, inwardly seething. �A woman phoned, Lou� she questioned him as she put the sugar into a mug. �A woman? For me?� �She said her name was Honey.� She was met with no response. �Silent, Lou? Got nothing to tell me?� �Oh, Carys, she was just some bird I met in the pub�� �But she rang here, Lou. So that means that you must have given her our phone number� she retorted hotly. �Look love, I would be lying if I said that nothing happened. But, come on, you know boys will be boys! And after all I was with Cameron� She banged the mug of hot coffee on the table in front of him, spilling some onto the melamine table. �Careful�� he muttered, �you nearly burnt me with it, you dozy cow� �Bloody Cameron! You were out with Cameron? You two are as thick as thieves. Always together, plotting�� she yelled at him �Don�t you have any respect for me at all?� Louie jumped from the table, his arm knocking the mug onto the floor, where it shattered, spoiling hot foamy coffee all over the tiled floor. �I have had enough!� he yelled at her face. �All you do is whine, you miserable, selfish bitch. Want to know why I sleep around? You are just not good enough in the sack�I guess my expectations were far too high�I figured that you would have at least been a good lay, especially as your mother was a whore!� he spat at her contemptuously. Carys looked down at the floor. Maybe this is what she deserved. The people in the care homes never wanted her, why should he be any different? �Come on�what do you have to say for yourself, whores spawn? Mother never wanted you either�� he said, smiling. �Those men down the pub think that you are pathetic, a pointless little mouse. You think that you are so damned clever�� Carys stared at the butchers knife laying discarded upon the wooden unit. How it shines in the sun, she thought; see how the blade catches the rays, pretty isn�t it? She turned the blade over in her hands, her back turned slightly away from Louie. He�s just goading me, that�s all he�s doing, trying for a reaction. He will get a reaction�in her minds eye; she could see herself stabbing him, taking pleasure as his imagined blood spouted on to the floor. ��but all you are a two bit, worthless barmaid. How on earth did I ever get myself saddled with a loser like you�?� He was behind her; she could feel his cloying presence. His stale breath was hot against the back of her neck. She turned, the knife shining brightly in her hand like an ill forgotten party piece. She thrust it forwards, piercing his chest just below the pectoral muscle, gasping as his momentum pushed the blade further in. Crimson blood oozed from around the blade, slow at first, but gathering speed, and turning into a small red spray. His eyes bulged wide in surprise, two small pale circles in a deep tanned face. �What have you done, you stupid bitch�!� he screamed, as he stepped back from her, his hands flying to the wound, trying to stem the flow. �What have you done!� he gasped. Carys watched him dispassionately; saw the blood drip on to the cream floor tiles. She walked slowly over to him, and slashed him across the stomach. He doubled over, his face twisting horribly as the pain seared through his wrought flesh. She lifted the red stained blade and slashed him across his back. He yowled in agonised pain. �You bitch� he muttered, his voice growing ever weaker. The blade lifted again, Louie heard it whistle past his head, and he watched in horror as something pink and bloody dropped to the floor. He raised his hand to the side of his head, gasping as his hand came back smeared with crimson fluid. He peered closer at the object, choking back vomit as he realised that he was staring at a neatly amputated ear. He felt a sharp pain unlike anything else he had felt before, deep in his back. His vision grew dim, and he lay on the cold floor with the knife embedded in his back, gasping like a stranded fish. His last conscious thought was that murdering bitch� *** The throng in the cavernous hall grew silent, expectant. Jontile gazed at the masses of his people, and felt pride spear his heart. �This is a good thing that we see, Ba�rath� he said smiling. �Today we witness something special!� He saw a figure approach them, a large ambling creature with enormous black leathery wings folded tightly above a domed dark head. Curved fangs glinted downwards from the side of a lethal looking maw, and Jontile felt his smile grow wider. �I spy your father, Jontile� �Yes, I see him too. I thought that he was staying in the Upper Levels?� Mysin approached his son, and engulfed him in a huge embrace. �Father? Why are you here, and not with my mother?� Jontile enquired, as he felt his fathers hands slip from around his waist. �Oh, Jontile! Do you think that we would want to miss seeing the Ancient return?� he winked at Ba�rath �and the sacrifice of one of those accursed Men folk?� He tilted his head back, and roared in laughter. Ba�rath giggled from beneath his taloned hand. �Jontile, are you the only one that isn�t aware on what is going on? Got your head in too many books, I fancy!� he nudged Jontile in the ribs gently. �Okay, I admit it! I read too much��he laughed. Mysin looked at his son soberly. �Jontile, there is nothing wrong in studying at all. And I know how you dream about becoming one of the J�tek.� �Yes father. It is something that I do dream about�� �Hush!� whispered Ba�rath �I think they are starting� A deep resonating hum filled the hall, amplified by the domed ceiling. Four white robed figures strode towards a large raised dais, at the topmost part of the hall. Twin tunnels either side ran off into different directions. They walked solemnly and separated into two groups, standing either side of the dais. A fifth figure in maroon approached from the right hand tunnel, in his clawed hand, a large silver and gold cane, mounted by two writhing snakes with ruby eyes. He tapped the dais with the cane, and an altar appeared from under, draped in a white cloth edged with gold. �We are together� he announced in a resounding voice, �united as only our kind can be. We beseech the wisdom of our Elders, our forefathers that lived centuries before us. Grant us thy wisdom. Grant us thy strength. We offer to you, a sacrifice that we know pleases you.� He beckoned with a claw, and two small wizened creatures with long sharp snouts robed in black, stepped forwards, dragging their prisoner behind them. Jontile gasped as he set his eyes upon the first man that he had ever seen. The creature was indeed a pathetic sight, Ba�rath was correct about that. The writhing creature was naked, and manacled by its scrawny neck. It was hairless; the Deaza�tol had prepared the sacrifice so. He glanced at Mysin, who just looked back with fathomless eyes, and nodded. The creature was hauled to its feet by the two Deaza�tol that guarded it. It was crying, and wringing its two small pale hands together. �Listen!� the man yelled �I don�t know what you are. I don�t know where I am. Please help me�help me� His cries were met with a curious detachment. The people did not fear this weakling. Two more white robed Deaza�tol appeared from the left hand tunnel, dragging an intricately carved stone scaraphogus. It was brought to the front of the Dais, and lifted up to stand next to the altar. A metal contraption was brought, and stood in between the altar and stone coffin. The man glanced across, and his pleas intensified �For the love of God!� he cried to the maroon figure. The figure turned and stared back at the man. �Your name, if you please?� �M-m-my name is Michael S-s-Stonebridge� the man whispered. �Ah, that is apt. The name of a saint. You too will become a martyr for mankind!� The robed figure drew out his clawed hands from beneath the wide cuffs of his robe. He reached up, and slowly lowered the head of his robe. A scaly reptilian head emerged, yellow slitted eyes narrowing in mirth. �Ah, you see a demonae, no?� he queried in a lisping accent. �You will see more, no?� The pale man screamed �You are freaks, yes, fucking freaks of nature!� he moaned, clutching himself tightly, eyes rolling �Oh dear God, I am in Hell�I am truly in Hell� The two robed Deaza�tol guarding the man, lifted him bodily upwards, immune to the flailing arms and curses, and carried him towards the altar. They laid him gently upon it, and reaching down, they drew up four leather shackles, and bound him hand and foot. The collar around his neck was clipped to a metal hook that depended from the underside of the granite altar. They bowed deeply to the purple gowned figure, and he in turn approached the shackled man with reverence. He scooped a jug up from the floor, his talons scratching as they gripped the stoneware jug, and he poured a fragrant oil over the prone mans arms and chest. A sickly sweet smell rose up, reminiscent of jasmine in full bloom. �I, Z�artec Du�atel do anoint you in the name of our revered Ancestors.� He tapped the altars head with the heavy cane. The two white cloaked figures standing near the sarcophagus knelt down, and carefully they removed the great stone lid. An audible sigh went through the masses of people assembled there. Michael Stonebridge screamed, a high piercing sound, as he swivelled his head to see. What he saw there nearly blew the sanity from his mind. A grotesque mummified corpse lay deep within the stone, resting on a shroud of fine purple silk shot through with delicate gold strands. The corpse had a pale blue hue, the skin in places peeled back, revealing bloodless lips of puckered ancient skin, sickly white against pale blue. Its head was at least three times as large as a mans, its great jutting jaw resting slackly on its bed of silk. Upon its broad forehead were three great bony ridges, a triad of unspeakable nightmares. Twinned wings were pinned and flattened beneath its immense body, and he saw that these were topped off with small bony arched spines. He shivered in nervous apprehension at the thought of this horrifying apparition and the implication of what it meant. His arm was held out by a Deaza�tol, firmly grasped between its two unforgiving grey claws. He shuddered in revulsion as its leathery cracked skin touched his bare flesh. The creature held his arm out straight, and strapped it to the metal contraption that stood next to where he was laying prone. His arm now lay in a silver curved channel. Two more thin brown leather straps secured his forearm top and bottom. He watched as his veins stood out prominent as the leather straps were tightened. He gasped and struggled again, futility etching his strained countinance as he saw the robed figure pull out a glittering lethal looking curved blade from deep beneath the white folds of its cloak. The handle twinkled with the many inlaid gems, while the vicious blade shone a blazing white. �Oh God no�don�t�please!� he cried out. The Deaza�tol ignored his anguished pleas, and bringing the knife down, sliced across the thin flesh of his wrist. Blood welled out, the colour rich, pure and crimson. The cut had been deep, severing tendons and vein in a clean and clinical swipe. The man howled again, the laceration across his wrist searing with pain, as the blood slowly oozed down his hand, red droplets splashing from his fingertips on to the silver channel, slowly swirling into slender stream. The thin red rivulet spattered softly in a crimson arc, dripping off the smooth fluted edge of the channel and on to the dried desiccated husk in the stone coffin. The man on the altar gasped as his life�s essence leisurely seeped out of his body, powerless to stop his unexpected demise, unaware that his death was breathing life to an aged corpse. A low moan escaped the masses huddled expectantly in the great hall, breaking the silence, as two immense taloned hands gripped the sides of the stone coffin. The four Deaza�tol turned and approached the large stone casket with reverence. They gently lowered their hoods in an act of servitude, revealing sharp snouts lined with gleaming feral teeth and heavily hooded eyes. A great head raised it itself torpidly, the large hands levering its body out from its stony grave. It raised its head to look at the masses, emerald eyes blazing languishly from beneath its broad forehead. �Who has awakened me?� it enquired in a weak, frail voice.
Copyright © 2004 P J Francis |