I did not know precisely where I was. I assumed correctly that I was somewhere in Uazica, a continent somewhat mysterious to a man from Chassudor, but beyond that I could not say. Rhadoviel had many maps in his library, and I had spent much of my time perusing them, but I admit my imagination had always been far more enthralled by Obai, the land north and west of Uazica.

Not that I believe youthful map-gazing would have served me well in my trek through the deep jungles. Landmarks were few and far between, settlements even less common. Now I know that I had been wandering through what is known in the local language as the Axoxcan, or the Green Ever. It is an endless jungle that takes up much of the land mass's southern and eastern area. Though I traveled through it for numberless days, I know now that I only skirted its very edge. There are mysteries in the deep jungle that will never be seen by Rhandonian eyes.

At this point in my journey, I had strayed into to the Kingdom of Lixha, a small country on the northern edge of the Green Ever. I was only aware of this thanks to an increasing number of smoke columns on the horizon and the occasional village nestled at the tree line. I avoided them. Something kept me from seeking out my fellow human beings. Shame, perhaps, at my diminished state or a surrender to my newly savage lifestyle.

I found myself retreating south, where the trees grew taller and thicker, away from the settlements I periodically encountered. I slept high in trees, and though I hoped to encounter another dryad, I did not. I kept her seed close to me and wondered if I would ever plant it. Of course, I would, but not for many long years in a home I did not yet have.

I had become quite lost when I happened upon the city of the dead. In the middle of the jungle, forgotten by time, the stone city waited as though for me to find it. Trees grew upon the buildings themselves, the roots joining stone to produce a structure that was not quite natural, but not quite unnatural. It was the beauty of both, and yet, the city carried a sense of foreboding that I could not escape. The patterns of the roots over the stone disturbed me for reasons I could not name.

This did not drive me away. I have spoken many times of my restless curiosity, and here it gripped me. I could not leave such a place unexplored. With Ur-Anu in hand, I cautiously made my way onto what had once been one of the main streets of this dead city.

I quickly noted that many of the streets were not overgrown, and were pockmarked with heavy footprints. Perhaps I would not have noticed this without Chala's tutelage or my own experience in the wilds. I had become an adequate tracker, enough that I knew these prints came from creatures that walked upright but whose feet were like nothing I had seen.

The city had once been a bustling metropolis. I found homes, an amphitheater, a dry aqueduct. Much of their buildings were great four-sided pyramids with stairs running up the outside. I started to think of these buildings as temples, though I could not point to a holy aura. Bas reliefs peeked from between roots, speaking to the foreboding beauty of this place.

As I neared the west side of the city, a scream sliced through the air.

I did not hesitate. I moved swiftly through the streets in a low jungle-lope, heading directly for the sound. A second scream cut through the air, giving my steps wings. As I emerged into a plaza, where a great statue was being split by a massive tree, I saw the source of the cries.

A woman, tied to a pole being held between carriers, screamed in terror. She was slender and tall, with smooth brown skin and long black hair. Intricate tattoos ran down one arm and one leg. She wore only a golden belt with a long loincloth that hung in front and behind. Her breasts, high and round on her chest, were bare.

I do not believe her captors cared one way or the other for her near nudity. They were not even close to human. A race I had never seen before, I would later hear them called chaldum by the ghouls, who knew them as enemies from somewhere deep within the earth. In the ghoulish mother tongue, the word means rotkin, and never has there been a more appropriate name for any being.

Each one was more than a head taller than me, and had the bulk of a gladiator, with a body heavily laden with both fat and muscle. Their flesh was wet and glabrous, pale as death with the green undertones of decay. Bristly hairs erupted in irregular patches. Each sported four powerful arms with three fingered hands, tipped with hard black claws. They wore harnesses of leather, but no other armor. I would find that their bulk served admirably to protect their small vulnerable spots. Most carried three weapons, a two-handed axe or polearm, and a pair of smaller blades.

The most loathsome part of them was their heads. Round and hideous, they had multiple eyes, one pair huge and insect-like, the other three pairs, arranged about the larger, looked almost human. The only other feature on the face was a circular mouth that unfolded into a meaty sphincter ringed with jointed chelicerae.

The overpowering urge to kill them, to erase these abominations from the face of the world, held me in a steel grip. They were filth incarnate, and I nearly charged across the plaza to slay the lot of them.

As though to convince me of the folly of this impulse, Ur-Anu showed me the threads of battle. In every one of them one of the awful things struck me down. I pulled the weave of Fate, but none of the threads gave me what I needed. I grit my teeth and stayed where I was, watching the rotkin carry the screaming woman into one of the stone pyramids.

When the last of them vanished into the building's dark doorway, I jogged across the open plaza, my senses keen for signs the rotkin detected their pursuer. As I neared the cool darkness of the temple, I caught my first odor of the creatures. It was a ripe stench, like maggots on rotten meat. My loathing only intensified.

I paused just inside the entrance, the dark hungry. My eyes adjusted, and I was able to see my surroundings. The interior of the pyramid had been destroyed by the roots of long dead trees. The edges of crumbling floors stretched up to the apex. The center had been hollowed out, a pit dug in the center of the building down into the bedrock. A pathway with numerous switchbacks led down into the brightly scented earth.

The column of rotkin headed below, where fires flickered hellishly. I followed, even as the evil stench enclosed me, for I could not stand to live in this place where these monsters lived. I had never felt a loathing so intense, nor so devoid of any higher reasoning. I hated the Heacharids for their deeds, and though I knew these rotkin had no noble motivations for what they would do with that woman, my hatred burned far too brightly.

I followed them into the bowels of the pir. It appeared that they had hollowed out the area beneath the city, forming a warren. Great open spaces took the center, with smaller chambers at the corners.

The central area was filled with irregular spires of something, shiny like wet bone. As I approached, I could see suspected in them the remains of animals, of tools, of scraps of armor. Each spire was unique, and in its uniqueness was a fresh horror.

Gardens of foul fungus, shedding a fitful white-green glow, sprouted here and there. Rotted carcasses of human, animal, and unrecognizable parts, fed them.

The column of rotkin disappeared through an archway. The woman's screams echoed through the subterranean necropolis, her terror scraping over my bones. I paused at the spire closest to the archway. Within the slick resin, a terrified face silently screamed in mine, the flesh partly rotted, one eye still crazily wide.

I found a chamber beyond, where the rotkin had begun to gather. A low chant came from them, the sound sibilant and nauseating. At the far end of the room was a dais, with stairs leading to an altar. The remains of a floor above now ran around the perimeter of the room. Corpses, most unrecognizable, were webbed to the wall with patches of resin and overgrown by the glowing fungus. The room was bright with its sickly light.

A sound echoed behind me. More rotkin filed in from other areas of the city, likely lured below the soil by the blasphemous chant. Soon they would catch me in the open, pinned between them and the group already in their foul temple.

I looked about, my attention landing on an adjacent tunnel. I ran down it, slipping into the dark before the first of the disgusting monsters found the entryway. I crept into the dark, the tunnel sloping upward. The chant found me, echoing down both ends while it hummed through the wall. Halfway in, a stinking corpse lay next to the wall, encrusted in the white-green fungus, shedding enough light to see by. More of the deposits, the same material as the spires, punctuated the walls in fat deposits. Ahead, a powerful glow called to me. The end of the tunnel yawned open ahead, the white-green bright.

I dropped to all fours, gripping Ur-Anu in my hand as I crawled to the lip at the end of the tunnel. The broken floor formed an irregular balcony over a central chamber, giving me a perfect view of the chamber.

My initial impulse had been correct. It was a temple. I knew that, even though it did not look like a holy place of any race I could imagine. The dais and altar were formed of the resin of the spires, and I was certain this revolting substance came from the rotkin themselves. The woman was upon the altar, her wrists and ankles secured to it with more resin. Three rotkin stood by her. The rest of the faithful ringed the room, pushing close together, shoulder to shoulder to shoulder.

The awful chanting filled the air. My loathing was a physical force, demanding that I strike these things down and save this woman from her fate. Ur-Anu sensed my desire and it showed me threads of my choices. Each one ended not in my death, but in pure darkness, cold and burning. I could not see the blow that ended me. I shuddered, never having felt that before. Ur-Anu had given me my warning, and I would heed it.

A recognizable word appeared in their blasphemous incantation. "Mh'rohgg." Over and over, they chanted this foul epithet. Even then, I knew it as a name, even before my sweet Maireili educated me on its owner. The word was already laden with foreboding, thudding into the walls, repeated by the rotkin, over and over, a foul call.

The haunted syllables sank into the bedrock of this place. The word echoed, surging in power with every repetition. It thundered into my tissues, my loathing turning into an awful, lurking terror. I fought the urge to simply run, to abandon the woman to her fate.

And then, Mh'rohgg.

It started as a rumble, deep below the temple. The stones rattled, an unclean tremor worming through me. The dread pounded in my tissues, the storm of combat rolling in. Ur-Anu reached out with threads, but I ignored them, knowing only that soon I would be in battle.

The center of the room fell away with the sound of the world coming apart. The floor turned to ash. In the churning soil and powdered rock, a monstrous head. A colossal grublike creature, its maw ringed with writhing tentacles and gnashing teeth without number, squirmed up from below. Its misshapen head was covered in eyes, some like an insect, but some nearl human, filled with the howling madness of despair. The loathsome behemoth writhed about, as though gripped by a mania of its own.

Whatever loathing I felt for the rotkin was a shadow of what I felt for their foul god. For this Mh'rohgg could be nothing else but some awful chthonic deity unleashed on a surface world to recklessly consume. It needed to be ended, for none should suffer such a thing to exist.

The woman shrieked in pure, mad terror. The abomination kept emerging, rearing up like a serpent, giving the impression of endless bulk still unseen in the hole below. Its terrible attention focused upon the woman. She was a sacrifice, a meal for the behemoth's hunger. What made her a worthy sacrifice I did not know, but I would not let it have her. Fear would not stay my righteous hand.

Ur-Anu bade me hurl it. I obeyed the urge without seeing the end of the thread. Fate flew from my hand. The enchanted spear struck unerringly, impaling one of the thing's awful yes. It unleashed a thunderous squeal as bubbling ichor fell from the wound.

It was only then that I considered the fact that I was unarmed.

A crack of thunder rolled through the room, and Ur-Anu was a bolt of lightning, striking from wound to my hand. In the flash and peal, it was solid in my hand. I barely had the chance to wonder at this ability before Mh'rohgg's agonized thrashing gave me more pressing worries.

In its throes, it slammed into the side of the chamber. Stones rained down from above and the floor gave way beneath my feet, spilling me into the central chamber. I hit the broken ground, my wind momentarily leaving an aching void inside me.

Mh'rohgg continued to convulse, smashing a section of rotkin, the balance fleeing for the entrance. Its bulk came down, this time ready to crush me. I thrust upward with Ur-Anu. Fate's enchanted blade tore easily into Mh'rohgg's glabrous flesh, spilling its stinging ichor over the ground, where it sizzled and frothed. The beast recoiled from the hurt, buying me precious time.

I rolled to my feet and sprinted for the dais, the breath burning in my lungs. The three rotkin advanced on me, each one holding four blades. I would soon learn that rotkin are terrible foes, each twice as strong as a man, and with four arms they can expertly use. At that moment, though, it is hard to be effective while a god thrashes about in pain.

I slew them quickly. Mh'rohgg continued its loathsome flopping, though I did not think it was purely pain. Now, it was trying to find a way to crush me without suffering another wound from Fate. More of it squirmed from the hole, revealing stubby feet tipped with bony all-too-human fingers. It could not move without walking through dead and dying rotkin, showing no concern for its worshipers. They did not make a noise in pain, writhing silently and spilling their foul ichor onto the ground. It flowed in rivers, raining into the central hole.

The god continued followed me up the dais, moving cautiously, hunting for an opening. Was Mh'rohgg truly a god? Maireili would say yes, while Sarakiel would call it a demigod. I think such distinctions are often for mortal comfort. It was a leviathan of surpassing power and bottomless hunger. It had some undeniable power, an aura of foulness that sank queasy claws into my heart. The next time I would encounter it would be beneath far Chassudor, a distance much too great for any simple beast to traverse.

I struck the bonds at the woman's wrists and ankles, keeping the thing in my view as it writhed up the dais. The resin gave under the preternatural sharpness of Fate. I hauled her to her feet, and she looked upon me with only a little less fear than she showed the rotkin. I could not blame her, for I was a barbarian from far away, with wild hair and a wilder beard, clutching a magical weapon from another age. Mh'rohgg reared up with unholy speed, striking like a snake. Were it not for Ur-Anu's warning, I might have been devoured. I turned in time to jam the point home next to its mouth, but I could not hold it at bay forever.

Perhaps Mh'rohgg had a similar thought, for instead of striking again, it crashed into the wall above and behind us. More stones rained down, crashing into the dais, the resin giving way beneath this fresh avalanche.

We tumbled to the floor at the back of the chamber, the colossal monster thrashing, likely sensing its victory near. The wall next to us had partly collapsed, revealing a passage. The other way had the monstrous grub-thing in the way, and beyond, the rotkin. I had no illusions. As soon as their god was not in the way, they would finish what they started, feeding the woman to the beast and likely entombing my remains into one of their spires.

The two of us ran up the freshly revealed passage. Behind, the deafening crashes did not recede. A glance revealed Mh'rohgg pursuing. The rocks of the substrate were pushed aside like water by the behemoth's impossible bulk. I whirled once, stabbing the great beast in its maw. Bright ichor spilled, stinking of death. Mh'rohgg recoiled, smashing up through the ceiling.

I turned and ran, the woman several strides ahead. I followed, and after the blinding, burning sprint, we emerged into the ground level of another one of the ruined buildings. Outside, the city was in chaos. The rotkin ran about in apparent terror, but they were eerily silent as they moved about. A hole had opened centered around the temple, several of the old buildings and their trees collapsing into it.

Mh'rohgg emerged from the soil. Sections of its pale flesh surfaced like an awful leviathan surfacing from the deep. The woman hesitated, her eyes widening in terror. I grabbed her hand and pointed to the nearest border, where the jungle grew thick and green. She sprinted for it and I followed.

Some rotkin spotted us and shambled to pursue. The thread of Fate led me to one, thrusting through its neck. Though the head rolled, the body continued to move, albeit with less direction than before. I took the next with a thrust through the belly, which dropped it to writhe amongst the jungle plants. These rotkin were hardy, and I wondered if I had in fact dispatched the ones in the temple, or if I had only incapacitated them long enough to flee. I would learn far more when Maireili led me against the King of Maggots, but that was still many years away.

I ran, quickly catching up with the woman, taking her wrist and dragging. She had not the breath to scream or do anything else other than run. Behind us was the thunder of destruction, and the dim echoes of the chant Mh'rohgg, Mh'rohgg, Mh'rohgg.

Then we were in the trees. I looked about only once and saw the great bulk of the foul god flopping about in the ruined city. Stone buildings fell into the widening pit. Some of the rotkin gripped by a blasphemous ecstasy, fell into the earth. Others fled. A few pursued us, or perhaps this was merely their closest path into the relative safety of the jungle.

My breath was burning in my lungs when I came to a stop. The woman, exhausted, looked to me with confusion in her eyes. I could not explain that if I kept running, I would be in no condition to fight the last of the rotkin when they inevitably caught up,

Mh'rohgg had not gone beyond the bounds of the lost city. Perhaps it was some binding, or perhaps it could no longer sense it meal, or perhaps it had made a satisfactory feast of its worshipers.

Four rotkin approached, running up the game trail in their queer, lumbering gait. Two were armed as I would become accustomed, with a two-handed axe in their upper pair of arms, and two curved shortswords in their lower. One had only his axe, the other was unarmed, but I knew he could easily finish me with his thick claws and clicking mandibles.

I say without ego that first Xeiliope and then Einoë and Kallea had made of me an adequate warrior. The war had honed my skills, for as much as training can illuminate a path, one must walk the steps to truly know where it leads. The wilds had sharpened me, filed away edges and left a lean and powerful killer. I moved with a tigerish grace and struck with deadly intent.

Even with all of this, the rotkin would have slain me in seconds were it not for Ur-Anu. Fate, the Blackspear, my weapon, gave me the pathways to victory, though it was incumbent upon me to walk them. I found myself making precise movements with no margin for error, in the full knowledge that a lapse in concentration would mean my death.

I believe that my fighting would have looked savage, but it was born of a precise mind. The blade, with its unbreakable surface and razor edges, did the rest. The battle was a savage one, and I did not survive unscathed, but eventually, all four of the rotkin lay still on the jungle floor, their foul ichor staining undergrowth and soil.

I stood in the stinking clearing, sucking breath into aching lungs. Stripes of stinging blood decorated my flesh. It had been a close thing. Too close.

The woman watched me, her expression halfway between fear and awe. She was a shapely specimen, her brown skin glowing bronze in the sunlight. Her hair was thick, straight, and black, cut horizontally over her eyes, and hanging to the middle of her back. Black tattoos went from the corners of her mouth to the end of her jaw, intricate triangles punctuating them. More tattoos covered her right arm and her left leg. She wore only a loincloth, long, silk hanging to her knees in front and behind, a chain of gold over her slender hips. Her breasts were but handfuls, capped with conical brown nipples. Her face was oval, her most striking feature her large and liquid eyes, nearly black, and slanted slightly at the end.

She saw me looking her over and took a nervous step away. I allowed myself a chuckle and nodded to the woods to the west. She shook her head and nodded to the north, where a game trail wound its way through the trees. Now I nodded and followed her.

It was some time before she spoke. We walked along the game trail as it wound through the jungle, leading us north and east. She looked at the wound over my forearm, her finger a few inches over it. She said something in her language. Sounded apologetic to me. I shook off her concern. The injury stung, but I had suffered worse and was not overly concerned. It had stopped bleeding, and the only irritation was the sting of my sweat.

We passed a small stream, and she said something, pointing to it. I followed her to the banks, and she began to clean my wounds. I washed the ones I could easily get to, and she did the rest. When we were finished, she plucked a few leaves from a plant growing by the stream, chewed them in her mouth, and put them over the winding hurts. Immediately they felt better.

A short while later, I spotted the tell-tale signs in the fertile soil of tubers growing near the base of one tree. I dug them up, carrying them beneath my arm. As night began to fall, I led her off the trail a short distance, finding a small alcove between the folded roots of two trees. I built a fire and cooked strips of tuber over the licking flames. I handed the first piece to the woman. She ate, giving me a grateful smile. The next strip was mine, and I alternated until the two of us had our fill.

The wounds on my body had settled into an ache, the cleaning and that plant working wonders for me. The tuber was delicious, putting strength back into my limbs. The cold of the night folded in, but the fire, bordered by the high roots, kept us warm.

I watched the fire play over her slender curves. A language separated us, but I would not let that stop me. I reached for her, and she cocked her head, a frown of confusion. She reached back, and I took her hand and hauled her to me. With a yelp, she fell into my lap. She was tense, but she did not scream, nor did she hit me. Her breath was shallow, the pupils of her eyes tiny.

I stroked her arm, from shoulder to her hand. "I am Ashuz," I said.

She responded in her language, her tone wary.

My touch wandered from her shoulder to her hand, then up and into her chest, down between her breasts, then back. She shivered, a tiny sigh escaping her lips. I brushed my lips over her neck. Her pulse had quickened. Gooseflesh had bloomed there. Her sweat was sweet on my tongue.

I found her nipples, stroking down her shoulder and over her chest. They hardened beneath my touch, and she sucked in a shivery breath. I rolled them between my fingers, coaxing the rubbery flesh to full hardness.

"You are beautiful," I whispered.

She said something, shuddering as I caressed her flat belly. I circled her navel, then back up to her breasts, then down her arms. I was quite hard, and looking forward to having her writhing beneath me.

I could wait no longer. I slipped my hand beneath her loincloth, finding her softly-furred sex. She was wet, and she squirmed once, her legs momentarily clenching. I removed my hand from her loins, then gently took her by the chin. My fingers smelled of her nectar. I guided her face to mine, meeting her eyes. Then I let her go, and she stayed staring into my eyes as my hand fell once again to its former position. Her thighs were still together, and gently, but firmly, I parted them.

I brushed my finger over her lips, coating the digit in her slick juices. Then as I eased it inside her folds, my mouth found hers. She moaned into my lips as my tongue teased hers. My kiss went to her chin, where my fingertips had left the ghosts of her taste.

I took my hand from her sex, pushing the finger into her mouth. Her eyes opened in surprise, and I kissed her again, taking the taste directly from her tongue. I pushed the loincloth off her, tossing it aside. Now she was nude in my lap, squirming into my hard staff, still imprisoned in my own garment.

I circled her pearl, then into the warm and wet folds of her orchid. Her eyes were closed, her brow sweetly furrowed, her mouth open, gasping with every stroke of my hand. I kissed her periodically, sucking a lip into my mouth, licking her neck, nibbling her throat.

She grabbed my arm now, keeping me right where I was. I grinned, whatever trepidation she had was vanished now. Her breath came in quick bursts, a groan, a puff, her body tightening, her thighs gripping me. She turned to stone, and then with a throaty moan, her body shook loose.

I kissed her. She was insensate, still glorying in the aftermath of her bliss, shivers chasing one another over her form. I eased her down on her back, pulling my own loincloth off. Her eyes were smoky, partly closed. They flipped open when she felt my staff pressing firmly against her sodden lips.

She said something, but it disappeared in a gasp as I slid inside her. She held my shoulders, her fingers digging into the muscles. I picked up her hips, driving my sex down into hers, a powerful rhythm growing between us. I pushed myself to the hilt, then drew myself out in long strokes that caught the shivers inside her and made more. What started as ripples in the pond of her body had become surging waves.

The wounds stung as exertion opened them, but I liked the counterpoint of this pain with my pleasure. Her sex was velvety, tight against me. Her shivering never ceased. The bliss was still upon her. My own grew in my belly with each thrust, demanding to spill inside her.

Now her eyes were smoky with desire, her hips moving against me, gasping each time I buried myself to the hilt. Then, suddenly, she threw her head back and cried out, the shudders taking her. The pleasure coursed from me heartbeats later, and I filled her with jet after frothy jet.

We lay in our lewd embrace, catching our breath. I sighed, pulling myself from her, and gathering her to me, kissing her cheeks and gasping mouth. Exhaustion claimed me while I still held her in my arms.

I awoke next to the embers of the fire, no longer entwined with the woman. I found her kneeling at the edge of the clearing, her head tipped skyward, her palms up and out in supplication. It looked to me like prayer, and I would not trouble her in the midst of her faith. I cooked a bit of tuber over the embers and waited.

After a short time later, she rose, returning to the side if our embers. I looked over her naked body, the first real look at her sex. The hair between her legs was straighter there than mine, and it had been silky to the touch. I longed to stroke it again and found myself growing. Perhaps she would assent to another bout of love before we continued on the road.

She looked to the air and spoke a few words. Then she spoke to me. I shook my head, wondering what was wrong with her. She knew I did not speak her language, yet she continued to talk as though I did. As she spoke, her words gained a subtle echo, whispers chasing each one. I heard the edge of a word that I knew. Priestess.

The more she spoke the more I understood. I believe she saw the comprehension in my eyes, and she spoke with more intent, her eyes on mine. She broke into a smile. "Now you understand me, outlander."

"Yes, I can. How?"

"A simple prayer. Atauchi prizes communication."

"Atauchi?"

"A goddess of my people. She calls the harvest, protects the hearth, unites her people in bonds of love and respect."

"Why did you not do that yesterday?"

"I had already exhausted my favors trying to keep from being captured. I thought I was dead. I suppose your arrival means Atauchi did not give up on me. Tell me your name, outlander."

"Ashuz."

"I am Izhapoma no Tlaoc. I am a priestess of Atauchi."

"I am a wanderer."

"You are more than that, to carry such a weapon. I see the power of the divine upon it."

I picked up Ur-Anu protectively. "I would not be so presumptuous."

"You were quite presumptuous yesterday."

"I would be presumptuous with you this morning as well."

She smiled. "No. We surrendered to desire once, but only once. I cannot lie with you again."

"Vows as a priestess?"

"Something like that."

"Where is your village?"

"Not far from the city of the dead. We have been going the long way, avoiding that cursed place. The Axoxcan is deep and wild, but trails run through her, and will take us back to Pelesamatu. Since Atauchi once again listens to my pleas, may I entreat upon her to close your wounds?"

"Thank you." I stood before her. She approached me, whispering prayers. Her fingers traced one wound, and it vanished, the dried blood falling away to reveal unmarred skin. We were still both nude, and though she had her vows, I desired her again. I caught her wrist, kissing it. She pulled it away.

"I told you no."

"I thought..."

She gave me a smile I did not quite understand. "Listen and respect, Ashuz."

She was right, and I was ashamed of my base desires. "What were those things? The ones that had you?"

"I do not know. We have begun seeing them in the past months. They attack my town from time to time, bearing people away." She shuddered. "To feed to that foul god, I expect."

"That was a god?"

"A lesser god."

I nodded. I nearly grabbed her again, but she had her vows. If I wanted her to break them again, I would simply need to give her a reason. That would not happen today.

She donned her loincloth, hiding her lovely nudity form my eyes. I put mine on as well, surrendering to the fact that we would not lie together that day. We rejoined the path and when I next attempted to speak to her, found that her blessing of understanding had disappeared.

It was near the end of the day when the trees began to thin out, and I saw small wisps of smoke on the horizon. Soon, we came upon the town, an idyllic settlement spanning a narrow valley. "Pelesamatu," she said. I understood her meaning even absent her blessing. A name. I tried it out, and it sat well on my tongue.

The town was lovely, with tiered gardens on either side of the shallow valley, punctuated with stone houses. Bridges spanned the valley at varying levels, while walkways went down to the flowing stream. A small mill's wheel turned in the brightly bubbling water.

The people worked in the small gardens that were everywhere in this place. Like Izhapoma, they had smooth, bronze-brown skin decorated with intricate tattoos. None wore more than a loincloth and a pair of sandals. The hair on their heads was thick, glossy, and black, but the men did not grow beards, and their chests and limbs were smooth and bare.

The main livestock was a flightless bird taller than a human, with bright blue and yellow plumage. These helped plow the garden plots or ran to and fro in their corrals.

Were this merely a story of a battle against evil, as many of these kinds of tales are, this is likely where it would end. I fought the beast and bedded the woman. I could move on. But this chronicle is not some tale of heroic fantasy. This is the tale of my paramours, and Pelesamatu had more surprises in store for me.

A little boy was the first to see us and when he spotted Izhapoma, his eyes lit up. He called her name joyously, and soon the other townspeople working in their fields were waving. A few came out to greet us, and though they looked upon me with trepidation, Izhapoma's words were comforting and they seemed to accept my presence.

A man approached, tall and handsome, with a broad chest and muscular limbs. He smiled at Izhapoma, taking her easily her up in his arms and crushing her to his lips. I watched, stunned, as the two of them kissed. Perhaps I had been wrong about the nature of her vows.

They spoke quietly, and when he put her down, he turned to me and clasped my forearm. Izhapoma said clearly, "Kunaq. Ashuz."

"Ashuz." He smiled, nodding, then patted my shoulder. He pointed not far along the highest point in the little valley where a stone building rose at the end of a path. A garden surrounded it, where vines climbed stalks of a fruiting plant. It reminded me a bit of Chala's garden, where everything grew together in a harmonious whole. He touched my chest, then pointed again.

I nodded to him and gave my thanks, hoping he would understand the feeling of the words if not the words themselves. Then Kunaq took Izhapoma about the waist and I followed the two of them along the pathway.

The building was not merely their home, it was the town's temple, dedicated to their goddess Atauchi. The front of the building held a proper temple, where Izhapoma served her community with prayer. She and Kunaq lived in quarters in the back of the building. They had no children, but I noted both were fairly young, and certainly not as old as I was.

They led me to the stables. This was a cozy building made of stone and wood. The bottom floor was devoted to keeping those birds, which I soon found to be foul-tempered creatures that I nonetheless grew fond of. A loft above would be my living quarters. The roof kept the rain off my head, an unthinkable luxury after my time in the jungle. They gave me a bed of soft rushes beneath a blanket woven from feathers. I treasure my memories of being nestled under that blanket and listening to the clatter of rain.

The first night, Kunaq and Izhapoma invited me into their home for a proper meal. The food was delicious, stewed meat over rice with a mug of the local beer. I ate too much, partly because whenever my plate was empty, Kunaq spooned more food onto it. Hospitality was sacred to the people of Pelesamatu, one of their many admirable qualities.

Kunaq watched me eat, and when I showed him that I liked the food, his shoulders relaxed and he broke into a relieved smile. I found that I liked Kunaq, and I found myself wondering what he would think of what I had done with his wife in the jungle. Such a secret would not be mine to tell, and I was content to leave it in the past. One foolish action done on impulse. When one is relieved to be alive, such actions are not quite their own.

That night, Izhapoma escorted me back to the stables. I paused at the doorway and our eyes met. For a moment, I saw the same smokiness that I'd seen while inside her. I knew she wanted to come with me inside. I wanted her too. But she turned away, returning to the house. I climbed into the loft and looked over the edge. Below, I regarded the birds in their stables, and they regarded me with a distant avian fury. My belly laden with food, and my mind with questions, I still slept soundly that night.

I spent the following weeks developing a routine. Pelesamatu was somewhat provincial, and I was definitely an exotic. My skin was pale, my hair lighter than theirs, and of course I still sported a long and wild beard.I attracted some curiosity, and I admit that I found the local women alluring. The Lixhans were a handsome people, with smooth brown skin and thick black hair, with eyes darker than the night sky. Their tattoos only made them more fascinating. Children had but a few, with more marking individuals as they aged. The elders were often covered head to toe.

I noted that some of the women appeared to find me interesting as well. The tattoos at the corners of their mouths appeared as simple lines from range, but closer, they were formed of tiny and intricate glyphs. These marked an individual of marriageable age. I soon found that they were amused that my beard hid where a man of my age should be marked.

I worked with Kunaq, who was a grower of chocolatl beans, and here I find I must digress. I do not have many vices. Women, certainly, if they can be said to be a vice. Chocolatl, though, is a vice that I indulge. During my time as Tyrant, I always ensured regular shipments into our single port in Uraraoi at great expense.

Is there a more delicious beverage upon Thür? I do not believe so. The drink, so thick and rich, with notes of bitter and sweet, and the froth above like a cloud, it has no equal. It is a divine bean, and I learned much of its cultivation in my time in Pelesamatu. Many years after I departed, I returned and purchased plants and seeds from a local with eyes as green as mine. We all leave our mark, don't we?

I drank my chocolatl in the mornings. As soon as Kunaq discovered my fondness for it, he brewed a batch every day. Chocolatl has a wonderful way of invigorating the spirit, and rendering sleep-crusted eyes bright and clear. Rejuvenated, I would assist Kunaq in his fields, where I learned the craft of farming chocolatl. I am still grateful for this skill. Cultivating it in Stormspoint, where the climate is much colder, is far from easy, but my greenhouse is second to none.

The people of Pelesamatu were industrious workers. The first part of the day was spent in toil, then a nap in the hottest part of the day, then a bit more work. It was the evenings, when the village came together to dance and sing and tell stories that I treasured. Izhapoma used her blessings upon me to assist in my contribution, and I told tales of my adventures. The battle against Vexacion proved popular among the children, and the day after the first time I told it, I caught some of them pretending to cast one another into an icy abyss.

I soon made friends with their local scholar, a bright-eyed old man named Teitli, who wanted as much as I could tell him of the outside world. Pelesamatu was not as cosmopolitan as the cities along Lixha's northern and western borders, and their news came from traders who arrived from time to time to purchase the local crops. I could not help but think of Pelesamatu as southern twin to my own Burley Shoal. I helped Teitli draw maps and described far places for him. When words failed me, I drew.

I steadily learned their language, and soon I no longer needed Izhapoma's blessing to communicate with the locals.

Though I did not lie with Izhapoma, I found myself thinking of it often. I thought that I should leave, to spare everyone pain, but I found I loved this place as much as I desired its priestess.

It was some months into my stay in Pelesamatu when the Yawar festival came around. Marking the beginning of the rainy season, it was a last outdoor celebration for the town. Lanterns gave the entire place a firefly glow, and everyone gathered in the plaza on the northern edge of town, across a bridge from Izhapoma's.

Yawar was a party, with music and feasting and dancing. A great fire burned in the middle of the plaza where the young and unmarried men and women gathered. They would dance, a traditional way to test a connection between partners. Those who decided there was would walk away from the bright lights to see if the connection was real. Many children were conceived on the night of Yawar.

I watched the dancing and ate, my mind buzzing from a mix of beer and chocolatl. I had no real desire to find anyone. I still thought I would leave soon. It is always when we are not looking that love finds us.

A pair of eyes kept finding mine. Eyes that were large and dark even for a woman of Pelesamatu. They belonged to Ixem, a young woman who had recently reached marriageable age indicated by the tattoos running from the corners of her mouth to her jaw. She was petite, with a lovely, saturnine face, aristocratically arched brows and full lips. Her figure was small, her breasts riding high on her chest, her torso long and flat. As she danced, her hips rolled above her loincloth, drawing my attention to the shadow in her navel.

She had been following me around with her other friends since my arrival, always talking and laughing. The tattoos were new, and it certainly changed how I was looking at her. That night, she had danced with a few young men, but none met with her approval, and it had become harder and harder to pretend she had not settled on me as her next partner. I glanced over at Izhapoma and she looked away, as though she had been watching me. Now she was talking to Kunaq. He met my eyes, nodding to Ixem with approval.

I suppose I had been accepted.

A hand was on mine. I found Ixem grinning, gently drawing me next to the fire. I went, the blessing accepted. If Izhapoma didn't want me and Ixem did, who was I to complain? It was only a dance. I began to move with her. She was graceful on her feet, and when I tried to keep up, she laughed, putting her hands on me. I did not move with her as well as some of her other partners, but she did not seem to care. Perhaps that was truly what was tested. Find the one you wanted to make the effort for.

"Watch," she said in Huyu, the language of Lixha. She showed me, and I did my level best to imitate her. My jungle-honed agility assisted me here, and soon I was just barely keeping up with the lithe creature.

As we danced, I found Izhapoma looking at us more than once. I found I cared less and less, the exquisite Ixem more than holding my attention. When the band took a break between songs, I was reluctant to release her hand. "Do you wish to find another to dance with?"

"No," she said shyly. "Do you?"

"No," I said.

"Good."

We danced a little while longer, our movements growing closer. I found I could predict her movements. Her rhythm passed into mine, the feel of her hips in my palms intoxicating. Finally, I took Ixem by the hand and drew her from the fire. "Would you like to walk with me?" I asked.

"I like your accent," she said, giggling. "Yes, I will walk with you, Ashuz."

Walk with you was a euphemism at Yawar. For marriageable people like Ixem, and I suppose myself, it was expected we would get up to something. As for the specifics, I was not quite sure. I would be happy with a kiss, but I already knew that I wanted more from her. I think she knew that I was experienced. She told me later she liked the idea of surrender to an outlander like me, a dangerous man who would never find it in him to hurt her. I wish she had been right about that.

Ixem led me from the fire into the winding paths of the village. Lanterns lit our way, and the night was still warm enough that we did not mind. The edge of cold from the coming rains was still but a faint nibble on the wind. Her fingers interlaced with mine and she leaned close to me.

"Tell me, Ashuz, how long will you stay?"

"I don't know," I said.

"If you took a wife here, you would have a home. A farm."

"Your family farms, doesn't it."

"We cultivate pepper trees," she said.

"I know nothing of pepper trees."

She giggled, nudging me. "You think too much of yourself. I have not asked you to be my husband."

"True," I said. "You are very young."

"I am thirty-eight!" She protested. The people of Lixha reckon their ages by seasons, not year, and each year has two seasons, the wet and the dry. "I am old enough to be wed."

"You must have your share of suitors."

"Must I?"

"You are the most beautiful woman in Pelesamatu." In my mind, I added unmarried. Deciding who was lovelier, Ixem or Izhapoma, was impossible.

"Would you be jealous if there were suitors?" she teased.

"It would please you."

"Yes."

"I would be most jealous."

Her smile shone in the dark. "You are still staying with Izhapoma, are you not?"

"In her barn."

"You have been here for long to stay in a barn. There is a cottage at the edge of the pepper groves. My father promised it to me when I take a husband."

"Would you show it to me?" I asked.

Even in the dark, I could see the blush in her skin, the brown glowing bronze, her eyes downcast. "Come," she said.

We passed other couples, either walking and speaking in intimate tones or locked in embraces against trees, on benches, sitting on the lip of the dell. Pelesamatu was a magical place that night, and there are times I wonder what might have been had I been able to stay. Ixem led me into the pepper groves. The spicy scent hung heavily in the humid air. It inflamed me, the taste on the back of my tongue, the aroma in the back of my nostrils. It subtly flavored my mood, stoking a fire that barely needed help to become a blaze. I surrendered to the evening then and there.

The cottage revealed itself at the end of the grove. Built of stone and wood, it was the kind of place I could imagine settling down. Though I still loved my Zhahllaia and my Sarakiel, they were far away, and the spicy scent of the grove coiled about the fresh womanly scent of Ixem. The night had seduced me, not just with my fetching companion, but to life in this wonderful place.

"My mother and father lived here when they were first wed," Ixem said.

"It's lovely."

We stepped inside, and the spicy scent of the pepper trees had taken root inside, as much a part of the air as our breath. The house was small, with a central room and a hearth, with a lofted platform above. "Up there," she said, going up the ladder.

I followed her and she pulled me to sit down. "These rushes are fresh," I observed.

Her blush was intoxicating. She shrugged. "I changed them today."

"Thinking you would lure someone up here, did you."

"Not someone," she said, biting her lip.

"The outlander."

"The mad warrior," she said, stroking my beard.

"You like my beard."

"The men here do not grow them."

"You do not grow much hair here," I said. "Aside from on your head. And between your legs."

"Ashuz!" she scolded me, and the blush returned. "You should not mention such things."

"No? I thought I was here to do more than mention them. Come here. Let me taste your lips."

She made a tiny sound, an Oh of wonder, of desire, of shock. I pulled her to me, parting her lips with mine, my tongue exploring her mouth. She stroked my face, from cheekbone down my beard. Her mouth was clumsy, her kisses inexpert, but she was eager.

I felt myself growing in my loincloth, but I decided that I would not take her that evening. I would hold my desires at bay, give her a night to remember, make her want another. I would take her some way along the perfumed path. If she still wished to travel along it, then I would take her, with pleasure.

I touched her hair, long, and glossy and black. "You are so beautiful," I whispered, the first phrase in Huyu I had learned. I returned to her lips, the kiss deepening, her hands in my hair now.

She moaned as my mouth fell to her throat, then down to the bowl between her clavicles. I chuckled, the air of my breath raising gooseflesh over her. My lips closed over one of her nipples. She sucked in breath as I teased it to hardness. I took the other in my hand, kneading the soft flesh.

I laid her back. She shivered sweetly as I kissed her belly, growing closer and closer to the blessed spot between her legs. I took the corners of her loincloth, where the chains rose over her slender hips and paused, looking up into her eyes.

She moaned my name. Her expression was blissful, needy, and the slightest bit afraid. That was the moment I became hers. I slipped the belt of her loincloth down, over her buttocks and off her body. For the first time I beheld her sex. Like a modest flower, behind a silky thatch of black fur. I leaned in, pressing my lips to the hair between her legs. I caught a whiff of her nectar, musky with a hint of spice, as though she had absorbed the aroma of the pepper trees.

I turned to her thigh, gently spreading her legs. A slice of pink, like a fruit, peeked at me, though the silky fleece. Her aroma was stronger now, that maddening spice calling to me. I fought against the urge, relentlessly teasing every place but her center, letting that aroma build and build until I could fight no longer.

I traced her orchid with my tongue. She shivered and uttered a word I knew was a curse, far too rude for a nice young woman like her. Her hips rocked up to my face. I chuckled, and began to taste her.

The spice had permeated her flesh. I ate her with gusto, finding each of her petals laden with flavor. She was writhing now, her moaning higher-pitched and desperate. I moved to her pearl, sucking it between my lips, lashing it with my tongue. My fingers slid into her waiting sex and she cried out.

She was already at the precipice, and the dual attention upon her was enough. She tensed, then collapsed into quakes with a high-pitched cry, her body covered in a sheen of spicy sweat. She shivered in the aftermath, her flat belly rising and falling in irregular rhythm.

I crawled up her body, kissing her lips, letting her taste herself on my tongue. She was insensate for a moment, then she wrapped her arms around me, her breath caressing my mouth.

"Oh, Ashuz," she purred. "That was wonderful."

"For me as well," I said, holding her.

"I would like to do the same for you," she said.

I nearly protested, but I was besotted with her. I was rapidly forgetting any idea I had of holding off. "Have you ever...I don't know what you call it in your language."

"Drinking the river," she said shyly. "No. I have seen it. My friend Tamaya with Chusco. They're married now."

"In my language we call it..." I paused. I couldn't think of the word for knight. "It's a kind of kiss. A warrior, but one who has taken vows?"

"You come from a strange place, Ashuz."

"I do."

"Do you miss it?"

I swallowed, and for a moment, I missed it so much it hurt. When I spoke again, it was with the ghosts of tears in my voice. "Let us not speak of that now. There are better things to do with your mouth."

She kissed me. "As you wish."

She moved down me, brushing her lips against my skin as she went. There was not much art to her actions, but I did not need it. Her sweetness was more than enough, the light touch of her lips like butterflies landing on my torso. She arrived at my loincloth swiftly, unwilling to wait long.

She pulled it down and off me. My staff revealed, poking upward obscenely before her wide eyes. "Atauchi," she swore. "I can't fit this in my mouth."

"Not all of it, not yet," I assured her, stroking her hair. "You can start with licking."

She craned her head, her tongue tentatively touching the underside of my turgid staff. She withdrew, licking her lips speculatively, then returned. She was just lapping at first, but it was enough to start sparks along the insides of my eyelids. She worked her way up, and when she reached the tip of me, where the nectar had started to bead, she made a surprised sound.

"Your taste!"

"What about it?" I asked, stroking her hair.

"It is like nothing I've had."

"Open your mouth," I said gently.

She obeyed. I guided her parted lips to the head of me. "Ashuz, I cannot fit you."

"You don't need to take me to the hilt, love. That skill only comes with practice." I thought of the hours of Sarakiel on her knees, training herself to take me.

"It will feel good for you?"

"Very."

She nodded, and took a deep breath, taking me inside. Her tongue was hot against me, her mouth tight.

"Don't neglect your tongue." I realized at that moment that I didn't know the word for suck. I'd need to find that out in my next language lesson, though I couldn't imagine Izhapoma would appreciate that question. The thought of the priestess giving me the knight's kiss inflamed me, and I jerked once. Ixem coughed, releasing the head of my staff.

"I am sorry," I said.

"No, you are enjoying yourself. I want to bring you bliss."

"Do you know what will happen?"

"You will spill your seed."

"I don't want you to be surprised."

She kissed my staff, her lips soft. I groaned happily. "You like that?"

"It's sweet," I said, stroking her hair. "Like you."

She went back to her work, first licking me, then taking the head of me into her mouth, then a kiss, each time alternating her attentions. I surrendered myself to her, letting her build me with her attentions. When I was close, the pleasure strong and surging, she released me, and her hand began to pump over me. Her touch here was confident. She had done this before. I had not time to dwell on that before I cried out, the pleasure tearing from me.

She yelped as the first pearly rope splashed over my belly. Then I felt her hot mouth close over me, and she was sucking, drinking down each spume. As my breath slowed, she moved up, and turned her back to me, rolling on her side as she pulled me close. I held her tightly.

"Was that to your liking?" she asked.

"You could not tell?"

She giggled. "I think I would like to practice more."

"On me?"

"Of course on you." She smacked my arm, and settled in. Then, quietly, "Would you like that?"

"Yes, Ixem." I kissed her shoulder. With her smooth buttocks pressing into me, I felt myself beginning to harden. I fought it, but it was a losing battle. She was too lovely, too ready.

"Ashuz! You wish more?" she asked.

"No. Well, yes. But it's my body, Ixem. We've done more than enough tonight. We've tried each other, we want more, but it...it feels too soon to take you in this way."

She was quiet, and then, I felt her moving against my hardness. "What if...what if it wasn't?" she asked.

I ran my hands lightly up her sides, the smooth flesh of her hips up to her ribs. She shivered happily. "Are you asking me..."

"Yes," she breathed.

"Are you certain?" I brushed kisses over her shoulders, to her neck. She leaned back, giving me her neck.

"Yes."

I caressed her breasts, teasing her nipples. She moved against me like water, surrendering to the night. She wrapped an arm about me, and the pungent scent of her sweat caught my nose. It was as intoxicating as the rest of her. I did not merely want her, I needed her. All of my reservations vanished. I would have her.

I stroked her legs, spreading her. I shift of my hips and I was below her, angling to her sex. I touched her sodden lips with the head of my staff. She let out a squeak, somewhere between fear and desire.

"Do you want to stop?" I whispered in her ear.

"Take me," she moaned. "Make me yours."

I pressed against her. She was tight. I brushed my fingers over her pearl, and she squeaked again, her body opening, and the head of me slid into her. She was so hot and so close. I felt her spasming over me, her little body unused to such an intrusion. Her face was sweetly surprised, her mouth open.

"Oh!" she managed. "I feel like I am splitting apart!"

"I'll hold you," I promised.

"Yes. Oh, Atauchi. Oh, it's so...everything."

As much as I wanted to press, to bury myself in her, I held off. I let her grow accustomed to me. I was still, feeling her heartbeat joining with mine through the connection of ourselves. I stroked her body, kissing her neck, my hips remaining utterly still.

I began to feel her moving, a slight inching of her body. I held her, pressing deeper inside. She went rigid again, uttering the same squeak. I saw pain in her face, and I kissed it away, once again going still. Her body loosened just enough. Her sex was hot around mine, her skin flushed. She glowed in the diffuse light, the sweat of exertion over her.

Deeper. A pause. Comfort, love. Then deeper. Each time, I held her, let her feel the care. And each time as she took more of me, the fire blazed brighter. She enfolded me with her impossible tightness. She was past any kind of talk, capable only of sounds, trying to express a sensation she had never experienced, a blissful combination of pleasure and pain beyond the reach of both.

When I finally felt the kiss of her lips at the base of me, and there was no way I could find myself closer, I shivered, kissing her neck. She was quaking with effort, shivering as tremors of bliss ran through her. Her eyes were closed, her mouth open.

I held her, my hand loosely about her neck, my other arm looped about her. I began to rock against her, drawing myself out. She made a sound halfway between regret and relief. Then I sheathed myself in her again, and the opposite sound came from her lips.

I picked up my rhythm, and her shivers took her, covering her body. Her squeaks became grunts became squeals. I pushed into her harder, now feeling my own bliss like thunderclouds, ready to take me.

A strong quake hit her, and I slammed myself home. Only then I felt myself unraveling, each spurt deep into her womb.

We went still, and I kept holding her, nestled in her thick, dark hair. I eased myself out of her, and she let out her breath. "Ashuz," she sighed.

"Ixem," I murmured.

After a moment of silence, I leaned over, and found she was already asleep. I cuddled up behind her and slept too.

The next morning, we awoke in the aftermath of our passion. She was sweetly shy with me, despite what we had shared. If I had any doubts before, they were gone now. I loved her.

"Do you still want to see me?" she asked.

I kissed her. "More than ever, Ixem. I need to return to Izhapoma's now, but later?"

"I will come over at midday. We can eat and sleep. And...perhaps not sleep entirely."

I grinned. "I will see you then."

I donned my loincloth and walked back across the town to the temple. All around me I saw others who had done the same, tried someone after Yawar. Some glowed, others shrank in shame. Yawar was a magical thing.

I crossed the bridge, rounding the back side of the temple. My stomach growled. I wondered how much work was expected on the morning after Yawar. I supposed I would ask.

"There you are," Izhapoma said, stepping out of the back door of her home. Her expression was annoyed, if not outright angry.She was as lovely as ever, but I found myself not as bewitched by her as I had been. I still felt Ixem on my skin and tasted her on my tongue.

"Is there breakfast?" I asked.

"You spent the night with her?"

"With who?"

She glared. "Ixem. I saw you dancing with her."

"Yes, I spent the night with her. I was told that Yawar was about trying out a..." My Huyu failed me, and all I could remember was, "a wife."

"She can't be a wife to you."

"Why not?'"

"She is a child."

"She is thirty-eight, and I would wager you are not that much older than she."

Izhapoma squirmed. "Of all the girls in the village to pick, you picked her."

"What is wrong with her?"

"She is foolish. Flighty."

"She was wise enough to know what she wanted."

"You are a cad, Ashuz."

"You did not seem to mind when we were on the trail together."

She looked reflexively back into the temple, then took a step closer, lowering her voice. "Do not speak on that."

"I have not. We had an..." I didn't know the word I wanted. Not only the Huyu, but the idea itself. "It was once. I am moving on. Ixem is a woman and she wants me. You should be pleased."

"Ixem," she sneered. "You should find a real woman."

Kunaq came out of the back doorway before I could retort. He broke into a smile at the sight of me. "Ashuz! Things went well with Ixem?"

"They did."

"Good. She is a lovely young woman." He clapped me on the arm, laughing. "You have been learning to grow chocolatl. Soon it will be peppers. Come inside, you'll need to eat."

I followed Kunaq inside, leaving Izhapoma outside to seethe.

Izhapoma had nothing else to say after that. She could not. Ixem and I continued our romance. She often came to me midday, and we would lunch, lay together, and sleep through the hot day. We lay together often. I even taught her love in the Arthan fashion, and though she found bliss, the poor thing walked crookedly for a week.

I met her family, the rest of the no Meztli clan. She had a brother and a sister, both younger than she. Her parents seemed to have no objection to Ixem marrying an outlander. I had grown accustomed to the idea, seeing a future of family with her, of cultivating peppers, of growing old with a brood of children. No, I had not grown accustomed to this. I had come to want it.

I thought less and less of what I had given up in the rest of the world. It was easy to forget everything in Ixem's eyes.

Right around the end of the rainy season, Ixem and I had just finished a bout of love in the stable. She was uncharacteristically reserved as we cuddled beneath the soft blanket, the birds hooting softly in their stables below.

"Is something on your mind, love?" I asked.

She smiled at me. "My family is beginning to wonder when we are finished trying one another."

"A reasonable question."

"I am done trying."

I kissed her. "I suppose I am as well."

We made our plans. We would be wed at the beginning of the dry season. Soon I would quit these stables for the cottage at the edge of the groves. A life awaited there. A good one. A quiet one. I think of this potential life often. At times, I long for the simplicity, for Ixem. Even for stolen glances with Izhapoma. I long for Yawar as an old man, smiling indulgently as the young play their games and I return to my home at the edge of the pepper groves, and a bed warm with my wife.

But that was not what Fate brought me.

I awoke from a dream that I do not recall, but filled me with longing and dread. A late season rain clattered over the roof of the stables. Screams echoed out over the village, pulling me fully into wakefulness. I picked up Ur-Anu from where it rested in the corner of the loft. It had been a long while since I had taken it in hand. Cobwebs fell away as I took it in hand. I leapt down from the loft and ran outside into the rain.

Rotkin shambled through Pelesamatu. Loathing filled me. These creatures did not deserve to profane this place with their touch. I hurled Fate, piercing one. I held out my hand, ready for the boom of thunder and its return to my hand as a bolt of lightning, but it did not. The thunder was distant and rolling, called by the rain that fell upon me.

I had no time to ponder this, as rotkin had spotted me and closed to fight. I ran for the fallen rotkin, tearing the spear from its body, running the blade through the next. The rotkin's swollen form burst, spilling its stinking ichor over the soil of my adopted home.

I turned and slew the other two, though it was not easy. Rain blinded me, the rattle deafening.

"Ashuz!" Izhapoma called from behind me. I ran to her, standing in front of the doorway into the temple. "Guard me." She held a sculpted war club shining with her power.

"They will not touch you," I vowed.

They did not. I battled them and she smote them with her holy light. Here, in this place of power, her connection to Atuachi was strong, and the rotkin suffered. She called to the other townsfolk, who closed on the temple for safety. I protected them as they raced to safety, then kept the creatures from attacking. The rotkin never massed for an assault, content to attack in twos and threes. Enough to keep me occupied, but not enough to overrun me.

"Ashuz!" Ixem's parents, her father holding her brother, her mother leading her sister, ran for the temple. I killed a rotkin following them, sending the creature tumbling down the slope of the valley.

"Where is Ixem?" I asked, going to her father.

"They took her! The creatures!" he said.

"Get to the temple," I said. "I will find Ixem."

They gave me grateful nods, running through the rain for the temple. I met another sortie of rotkin. As I slew them, I saw now that the force was retreating south, in the direction of the city of the dead. A sick feeling filled my belly. It was obvious why they were in retreat. They had gotten what they wanted. They had their sacrifice. My Ixem. I pursued.

"Ashuz!" Izhapoma called. Fear was stamped on her face.

"They have Ixem!"

"Wait!"

Her admonishment was not needed. While most of the rotkin made their way into the jungle, a rearguard pushed me back to the relative safety of the temple grounds. By the time I managed to slay the last of them, the other rotkin had long since disappeared into the jungle with my bride.

I made for the edge of the jungle, intending to pursue. Izhapoma put her hand on my arm. "Hold, Ashuz."

"I can't leave her!"

"I know. But if you go, you cannot defeat them all. It was a miracle you saved me the first time. A second sortie will claim you."

"I will not let them kill her!"

"You will not. Allow me to marshal the power of Atauchi. She will know that one of her children is in trouble. If you go alone you will die, but I can imbue you with power that will help you save her."

I looked in her eyes and I saw that she held something back.I did not ask, and it did not matter. Had I known, I still would have gone. I would not abandon Ixem, no matter the cost. I nodded. "Be swift. I leave at sunrise with or without you."

She nodded, returning to her temple. I comforted Ixem's family, vowing to them that I would return Ixem. As the first fingers of dawn reached through the trees, Izhapoma emerged from the temple, her war club in hand. The rain died, but the clouds were still leaden above us, ready to spill another deluge.

"Come," she said.

We moved swiftly, and the two of us could move far faster than the shambling column of rotkin. I clutched Ur-Anu, ready to bury it in the hide of the first rotkin I found. By the time we reached the edge of their city of the dead, I glimpsed the end of the column winding through the ruined buildings. The was now a jumble of stone and trees, all fallen into the pit in the center. Fresh growth from the rainy season rendering the place even wilder. At the edge, where we paused, was a still-intact temple.

"There," I said, readying to charge.

"No," she said, her hand on my arm. "The rite."

"Get on with it. I cannot wait."

"I know. I need to put the power of Atauchi in you. That is the only way you can stand against these creatures and their god."

"She is a goddess of the harvest. How will she help with this?"

"This is a reaping, Ashuz. She will help. Between her power and your magical spear, I believe you have the chance to defeat them."

"Good, then begin."

"There is...there is more. If I do this, you will be hers. Harvested."

"Good."

"No, Ashuz. It means you must leave Pelesamatu."

"Why?"

"It is the way of things. You will feel it...or so my master told me when he taught me this prayer. I have never used this power. It is only for desperate times for this reason. We make of one of us an avatar, but such power can poison the mind. That is solved if the champion must leave."

I swallowed. "So even if I save Ixem..."

"...you have to leave her behind. I'm sorry, Ashuz." She closed her eyes, a tear falling from them. "I did not like your love, but I understand that I was wrong. I see now you and Ixem were a good match, and I wish you could be with her. Your children and mine could have played together."

Tears climbed my eyes. I blinked them back. There could be no hesitation. This would be done. "Let's begin. Ixem needs me."

Izhapoma mounted the stairs of the temple next to us. I followed her to the top, my heart thundering in my chest as I beheld the column of rotkin vanishing in the distance. My mind showed me memories of Ixem. Every moment I had with her, those delicate moments that cultivated our love.

At the top of the temple, Izhapoma threw her arms into the air and began her prayer. I watched her, calming the thunder in my heart. The words of her prayer reached into the heavens, and a shaft of sunlight speared down through the clouds to fill her. Her skin brightened, turned to sunlight. First red like a sunset, then orange, then yellow. She was bright now, too bright to look at. The prayer came faster now, her words jumbled and fast, my Huyu not equal to understanding. I sensed only the power behind the invocation, a direct line to Atauchi.

I closed my eyes for I knew if I did not, I would surely go blind. Still, the light blazed through my eyelids, searing my mind with its rays. I quailed in the face of the divine. I have never been a devotee of the gods. They have their domain and I have mine. But there is a room deep in Stormspoint that contains an altar. An altar dedicated to Atauchi, a place I pay my respects around the time the rainy season in Lixha would be ending.

Izhapoma's hand was on my chest. The sensation was somewhere between the agony of a white-hot brand and the bliss of a lover's skilled caress. I felt her lips on mine and it was like kissing the sun itself. Warmth flowed into me, making my limbs light. My heart slowed, beating heavily, each one a peal of thunder.

I felt her leg wrap about mine. I do not recall us ever undressing, but I felt myself slide inside her. Pure, molten light caressed me. From my staff, it flowed up and over me. I felt her flooding into me in that moment of ecstatic connection.

We leaned back and I no longer felt the ground beneath me. The flames licked my very soul. I was ready to burst sunlight from every part of me. It was not Izhapoma I was inside. This was the goddess herself I felt about my staff. No about all of me, enfolding me in her awesome love. She forged a connection between the two of us, her ineffable soul to mine.

I held Izhapoma's burning hips, thrusting against her, my mouth upon hers. I worshiped the goddess with my body as the prayer wound its way through my limbs. The bliss came upon me with the force of a hurricane. It was not quite the pleasure of ecstasy but a new sensation, one that tore me from the roots of myself. Each pulse strengthened me, put more light inside me.

"Go," whispered the goddess in my ear.

I opened my eyes. I was dressed, holding Ur-Anu. I felt Atauchi on me, in me, suffusing my tissues with awesome power. I was at once gigantic, looming over the city as a golden glow and tiny, my body of flesh and bone standing atop the temple.

I strode down the stairs of the temple, the light shadow over me. From it, I could see the entire city. Down in the pit, the rotkin had gathered. Their temple was rubble, but they didn't seem to care. Ixem was upon the altar as Izhapoma once had been. I felt rage, but over it was a protective warmth. I wanted to crush Ixem to me, to hold her tight and keep her safe.

The sun was bright within me. I leapt into the pit and began the slaughter. Ur-Anu blazed with the power of the harvest. That day, it was rotkin I pulled from the earth. I piled their bodies high, their ichor coating the walls.

I was not swift enough to stop their ritual. Their awful, wet chanting filled the air, and the pit opened. Mh'rohgg emerged, its hideous mouth ravenous.

The beast was both above and below me at the same time. Fate called, showing me the thread of battle, a thread I could have never followed if not for the blessing of Atauchi upon me. The goddess of the Lixhan people wanted her harvest and on that day I was her avatar.

I battled the rotting demigod in the ruins of the temple. Its worshipers were crushed or torn to pieces. Though I was filled with the power of Atauchi, even I could not kill Mh'rohgg. Not that day. I drove it into the earth, and in its agony, it collapsed the tunnel behind it.

I turned to rescue Ixem and found that Izhapoma had already done that, escorting the crying young woman into the safety of the jungle. The city continued to collapse, the process Mh'rohgg had started in our first battle finished in our second. I retreated, giving ground as the earth crumbled and fell into itself.

As I reached the jungle's edge, somehow my eyes met Izhapoma's, clear across the city. The power of the goddess lingered in me. Perhaps that is how we knew one another's thoughts. As those last threads of the goddess fled me, I silently implored Izhapoma to look after Ixem, to explain why I could not be with her, to tell her I loved her.

Izhapoma understood, and I saw love and pity in her eyes. This place was gone, Pelesamatu was safe. But it was not for me.

I went into the jungle, the tears hot on my cheeks.

The prohibition did not last forever. I learned that when I returned for my chocolate. Now I am haunted by one thing: could I have returned while Ixem still lived? Could I have been husband to her? Sadly, I will never know. But she will be immortal in these pages, and in my memory.

Until now, there existed no record of either Izhapoma no Tlaoc or Ixem no Meztli in histories of me. Yet both of them are precious to me in their way. I loved one, was in love with the other, and they truly gave me a home.

I wish them a long and peaceful life filled with love and joy.