Chapter 6:Temple of the Predator
Navigating the last few steps of the serpentine path, Xolsaa was met by the baying of Salamanders and the screech of Terradons. The air was thick with the stench of meat and filth of the beast pens. Xolsaa paused at the base of the steps, willing his senses to adapt to the smell before he moved into the temple proper.
Situated on a prominentary which jutted out below the rest of the city, the Temple of Caxuatn was sprawled in repose like a titan’s carcass. A skeleton of arches and buttresses, its ribs and spines framed its bare buildings, keeping its inhabitants exposed to the weather year-round. Terradons flocked above it, jostling for roosting spots across its ribs. Sky marshals swooped through the flock on their own mounts – the graceful and sharp dives of one signalled him out as their leader: Tylx. Peering up through the throng, close to where his descent had begun, Xolsaa could glimpse the spires which marked the gates of the city; gold flickered through the flutter of wings.
Resolving to spend his time in the temple taking shallow breaths, Xolsaa walked down the last stairway to the exposed atrium. Skink attendants criss-crossed his path, occasionally stealing glimpses at Chotec’s Chosen. Slabs of meat slung over shoulders, their dripping offerings weaved a carpet of red across the temple floor. With each step his claws peeled off a crust of dried blood and guano from the paving. Xolsaa tensed, attempting to resist any shudder of disgust and mirror the stoic demeanour of the other Saurus.
The perimeter of the atrium was guarded by statues of the greatest and most infamous predators that stalked the Lustrian jungles. Ahead of Xolsaa stood the largest: an Alpha Carnosaur, stained coral over the ages, it lunged towards the entrance mouth agape. Approaching the monster, Xolsaa noticed its teeth and mouth were black, as if clogged by the long hairs of some warm-blooded prey. Hairs that moved, glistened, and shifted with the wind. A sudden gust caused it to rise in a loud buzz, briefly unveiling a collection of rotten offerings. Xolsaa involuntarily stuttered in his steps. Eyes turned to stare at the stumbling figure, the crests of Skinks flickering in amusement when they saw who it was. The Temple of the Unseen Predator was a rancid manifestation of the works of its patron and Xolsaa was beginning to regret his decision to start the investigation here.
A basal roar came from deep within the temple, distracting the Skink attendants from their mirth and scattering them from the atrium. Their scampering was quickly replaced by a low rumble, a rumble which soon became a tremble; vibrations shook Xolsaa’s feet and compelled the loose filth to dance. Swarming out from under the arches came a mass of Saurus, all had bloodied teeth and all were roaring. The morning mass had ended.
Whilst the Priesthood observed the Caxuatn sect as relatively minor, the Temple of Unseen Predator had a magnetism which tapped into the feral and carnal instincts of the populace. The Saurus held a more acute fervour for the faith than their hulking Kroxigor cousin and were inherently more impelled towards the visceral than the Skinks; Caxuatn fulfilled a spiritual need innate to all Saurus. Xolsaa held still as the incensed congregation flooded about him. As the throng began to leap up the narrow steps to the city a bottle-necked quickly formed, and Chotec’s Chosen soon found himself trapped and squashed within a viscous pool of scale and sinew. He had been quick enough to avoid the congregation’s slow exit from the temple complex, but not timely enough to escape it completely. The Saurus about him seemed not to care, content praising the Predator God with their primal howls. Xolsaa caught himself envying them.
Only the Temple Guard remained quiet. Xolsaa felt a pang of sympathy for the honoured Saurus: the city’s isolated position meant that would-be raiders were few and far between. None had been routed from the city’s vale for over a century now. The guardians were duty-bound to a statuesque existence, observers to a predatory fury that the Gods denied them. The only Temple Guards to have spilt blood within recent memory were those that garrisoned the deep vaults of the Golden Pyramid where the oldest relics were kept, among them the most sacred plaques of the Old Ones.
The contents of the plaques had been decreed worthy only for the eyes of the Gods and their chosen; considered the domain of the Slann, the knowledge they contained was thought to be greater than any Skink mind could handle and was dangerous if it misapplied. Thus any priest granted access to the vaults who stole a glimpse at the holy writings would quickly find their neck bisected by a dutiful Temple Guard. Many visitors had now adopted ceremonial masks which greatly curtailed their vision to prevent any unfortunate glimpses in the wrong direction.
Gradually, the tide of Saurus began to ebb and Xolsaa began to make headway through the atrium, slowly dragging himself through the excited crowd and their spittled roars of praise. His arms pinned to his sides by the jostling mass of scale, Xolsaa could do nothing but cringe as spittle and bloody residue blotted his armour. Ahead three other Saurus had emerged from the central gateway, bedecked in bone taken from all manner of felled beasts. Their leader, a particularly large Saurus seemingly built solely from packs of dense muscle, wore a helm accessorised with a variety of jaw-bones: Xolsaa could hear their rattle as their owner conversed with his companions. The Auger of the Hunt, it was unnecessary for Xolsaa to address him in his investigation however ignoring him would flaunt the ambitious security protocol the smaller sects were want to have. The idea of drawing ire from some of the most respected Saurus in the city was an unappealing prospect. Xolsaa waded over to them and gave a sharp nod of acknowledgement, to which the three responded to with less-than enthusiastic responses.
“Auger” Xolsaa said, addressing the leader “I trust the hunts have been fruitful”.
The Saurus stared blankly back at for a moment before responding “Xolsaa, your visit is unanticipated” The Auger said expectantly.
“Yes, the Halls of the Holy commissioned my visitation of the… more minor temple sects, as an appreciation of your continuing commitment to Grand High Priest Monotaal under Our Lord Axhlot”.
“Of course they have. I assume you don’t need a guide for our small temple?” The Auger’s voice was betrayed little emotion, but Xolsaa caught his underlying tone of impatience. He ignored it.
“No, I expect you’re quite busy in preparation for The Hunt”
“Preparations have been cancelled: The Hunt has been postponed.” The Auger replied flatly.
“Again?” Xolsaa said, surprised. The Hunt, a bi-annual foray into the Lustrian jungles where the participants competed to fell the largest and deadliest of beasts. It was the most important religious event of the year for the sect, not only for its spiritual significance in the worship of the Unseen Predator but also because it drew in the largest numbers of Saurus outside of battle. Xolsaa had participated in it many a time before he had been assigned to the Halls; a Juvenile Carnosaur had been his proudest quarry. Since the ascension of Monotaal The Hunt, once a month-long sojourn into the deep woods, had been truncated to a couple of days. Now it seemed unlikely to happen at all.
The Augur made no response other than to flare his nostrils, a sign Xolsaa took as one of acquiescent displeasure. The Halls of the Holy had meddled often with the management of all the Temples, and Xolsaa’s ignorance obviously irritated the Saurus captain.
“What is it you want, Xolsaa?” The Auger said, ticking his tongue against his fangs. Xolsaa checked himself and re-adopted his stoic demeanour; Saurus weren’t one for small-talk and his greater social ability often grated the rest of his kin.
“Well, now that you mention it, I was hoping to catch our liaison whilst he did his rounds. He is here, yes?”
“He is not. Our temple receives him usually in the midday. I would’ve expected the Halls to be aware of the movements of their priests, especially before making the journey down the steps to Caxuatn” The Auger turned on his heel before giving Xolsaa a chance to response, calling back over his shoulder “the Priesthood would know more about his works: the High Priest will still be busy so soon after mass but I’m sure the Beastmaster will grant you audience. Follow.”
The Auger quickly strode back into Temple, churning up a pale cloud from the grimy floor. Xolsaa strecthed his calves to catch up, kicking up his own wake as he did so. The Saurus attempted to cover his disgust.
“Be strong Chosen, our temple is not furnished with the comforts and embellishments of the Golden Pyramid”, The Auger said, noticing Xolsaa’s grimace “The Predator shirks all glamour to hunt in the real world”.
“I say, I don’t suppose you have visited any of the Pyramid tournaments?” Xolsaa responded with an eager air to change the subject.
The Auger snorted, “Crude and cosmetic, it’s no way to venerate the Predator. I avoid such superficial ceremony – the Gods are of the wild, of nature, and that’s where they should be praised”.
“No, I didn’t expect that The Auger would visit such a…glamourous event-“
The Auger snorted again, “Indeed”.
“- and yet it is odd how the victor came from, well, the Temple of Caxuatn. One would have thought such devout Saurus would share their master’s ideals. But I guess everyone needs their little bit of glamour”.
The Auger caught himself snarling, and quickly covered it with a lick of his teeth. “You were the only victor there Xolsaa, don’t hide behind ceremony. Young spawnlings, they’ll learn” he grumbled “The Beastmaster will be by the Maw at this time”. Gesturing to his two companions to leave, he led Xolsaa deeper into the temple. They spent the rest of their journey in silence.
The Maw, a title given to the large pit near the centre of the complex before the prominentary jutted the rest of the temple out above the canyons. Sacrifices that had not been eaten or desiccated under the Sun were tossed down into the pit. Many of the sect believed that there they were consumed, either by some voracious spirit or creature which haunted the caverns below. Xolsaa found such an idea unlikely, and as they approached the chamber the smell which emanated from the hole seemed confirmation enough that his assumptions were right. His eyes watered.
Entering a large chamber open to the flocking Terradons above and decorated with their ordure. Dominating the chamber was the Maw, its black gullet hazy with the slow release of a warm, putrescent stench. About it crowds of priests, benefactors, and congregants were joined by visitors from different temples and shrines, occupations and creeds from throughout the city. All were caught by some magnetism, lost in deep reveries or muttering prayers. The darkness of the Maw married with their meditation.
Shouting broke the silence: “what’s the point in having all these fancy ceremonial vessels if you just go and use measuring jugs? Looks like a bloody alchemy set. Sort it out and get your heads together, maybe you’ll make a thought between you. Caxuatn knows, that’ll be a miracle…”
On the far side of the pit a couple of priests, their trappings signifying their lowly status, rushed to pluck a variety of ornaments from a shrine. Standing over them as an avatar of indignation was a Skink bedecked in bone armour of an alarming white. Loitering nearby was a large carmine Salamander, uncharcteriscally dark in colour it stretched out in the sunlight; Yama, the Beastmaster’s personal pet-cum-bodyguard.
The Auger beckoned Xolsaa to follow and the two circumnavigated the Maw, weaving between jittering worshippers disturbed by the tirade. Some of the visitors awkwardly shuffled out of the chamber, leaving with a shot of dark looks directed at the shrine. Xolsaa felt a sharp sting in his nostrils as they neared, noticing that the Beastmaster’s slick armour was less the result of bleached bone but rather the result of aggregated guano. Xolsaa fought once more to conceal a grimace.
The Beastmaster looked up, noticing their approach: “These days every new attendant acts like they’re Sotek’s Gift, yapping on about how they’ve broken records with their number of visions – chosen for great things apparently, and conveniently forgetting that every other Skink from every tiny temple is breaking records. I tell yeah, this Time of True Prophecy is an ache in the tail. Back when I was an attendant-in-training we we’re grateful even to polish a chalice. Nowadays they have heads full of Azyr – no grounding at all. Does my head in.” Catching Xolaa’s battle, he added “I hope my appearance doesn’t offend you, Gold Saurus; those Terradons know how to crap”.
“The Halls wish to bestow their appreciation” The Auger said, saving Xolsaa from quickly formulating an awkward reply.
“Oh, do they now? The bloody cheek, when was the last time they did that?” Beastmaster said.
“Yes, in fact I was hoping to catch Tintua here. It would be easier to hear it from him...” Xolsaa said, rasping with shallow breaths “I had it on good authority from the Halls that he would be” he quickly added, resisting a derisive glance to The Auger.
“I haven’t. But, I mean, he’s furtive sure, but what can you expect from someone in his position? And a priest no less. Feel almost bad for the critter.”
“Furtive?” Xolsaa probed, hoping to gain something from this unpleasant visit. The Beastmaster merely shrugged.
“Just on edge. As I said can’t blame him” he cocked his head, “why? Something the matter?”
Xolsaa felt himself tensing – he despised the web of intrigue and politique the priests created, it was a web he could not navigate.
“No, no...” he replied “the Halls are always keen to acquire feedback on their subordinates. How else would we know of any untoward behaviour?”
The Beastmaster chuckled, “Untoward? You can tell you’re a Saurus of Chotec all right. Don’t think our Auger here has ever uttered as big a word.”
The Auger stood in silence, a paragon of decorum and guardianship.
“Nah” The Beastmaster continued, “I’ve not seen any weirdness from Tintua. That self-styled Karan priest hovering about the sacrificial pit mind, he’s an odd one”.
A sudden flurry distracted them from the conversation as the worshipers all starting shuffled and bowing; a tall Skink Priest had walked into the chamber, his pathway aimed towards them
“’’ere he comes, lured by the shiny. You can see his teeth from here”. Yama joined in his master’s derision, the great Salamander making a snow of his needled fangs.
As the Skink Priest approached Xolsaa couldn’t help but noticed a certain brightness about him: his helm was threaded with gold and silver vines and glinted obtrusively amongst the crusted pillars. Xolsaa wondered how such a helm could be so bright with such filth about, he briefly suspected it may be a magical artefact until he noticed the faint traces of polish. Xolsaa suddenly realised why the Priest looked so odd: he was clean.
“High Priest Konsuma”, The Auger bowed his head in respect. The Beastmaster remained still.
Konsuma raised his hands in jubilation “what an honour, to have Chotec’s Chosen grace us with his presence. It has been long since the sect of Caxuatn has been visited by such an esteemed hunter: we still have the skull of the young Carnosaur mounted within the temple. I must show it to you.”
“Thank-you, your Grace” Xolsaa replied with a small respectful nod.
“Nonsense, it is all thanks to you, Xolsaa. It matters not whether the kill is by our hunters or outsiders, all prey belongs to the Predator”.
“The Predator will have his feast”, the other two muttered in unison.
“Although”, Konsuma leaned in slightly, “I can’t help but admit that your skills in The Hunt surpass even our mightiest” he ended with a chuckle. Xolsaa noticed The Auger flare his nostrils.
Still leaning in, Konsuma’s voice thinned to a whisper, “I even hear the next tournament will set you against one those Grey Ones. Now that’ll be a fight for the Gods, eh? You’ll have yourself a challenge then.”
Leaning back, Xolsaa quickly buried the questions forming by this new information, not the least of which was why neither the Halls nor the Temple of Chotec had alerted him. The information would have to be considered at a later date however, he could not show any signs of anxiety in front of a priest.
“Your Grace, I appreciate your kind comments. I know there has been much time since any representative form the Halls has visited other than our liason. Speaking of –“
“Oh now, that isn’t correct” the High Priest interrupted. “Necthez has visited us a number of times, has he not?” turning to the Beastmaster, “I believe I saw you talking to him not three days ago”.
“It must have slipped my mind” came a disinterested response.
“Now, now” Konsuma turned back to Xolsaa, his helm winking “I’m sure there are more pressing matters you wish to attend to than paltry conversation on cleaning Salamander pens...” Beckoning to nearby attendants, he clasped Xolsaa’s arm in an effort to guide him away. “There are plenty of better sites around this temple that I am sure are more attuned to the tastes of Chotec, why our eyrie is far grander than any other in the city. Not bad for such a modest temple, I’m sure you’ll agree…”
Slowly walking with the High Priest, Xolsaa began to despair that he would have to continue taking shallow breaths for much longer than anticipated.
heh heh...