Blasphemy

A thick haze of perfumes and scents from burning candles and incense filled the grand interior of the Voice’s sanctuary. The floor is a tapestry of cushions and rugs, comfort a high priority in his interior design without regard to cost or overindulgence. As my eyes slowly adjust, I see a wide jagged shape in the centre of the room. It is a tree stump and the source of Mother’s pillar of green motes, the mesmerising lights dance in a slow swirl as they fly higher and higher to the top and eventually out of the tippee.

Piia visibly shudders as she enters, her face a grimace.

“Is everything okay?” I ask quietly so the Voice can’t hear.

“I’m fine.” She pushes through, walking her dirty feet over his clean cushions without a second thought.

The Voice is standing by the tree stump with his hand resting against the smooth bark, we wait for a time, but no one spoke. The silence awkwardly draws on like an old person who forgot they were in a conversation.

“We have news…” Piia says.

“Do you know what this is?” He cuts her off.

“Yes, of course, it is one of Mother’s shrines. The Voice’s sanctum.” She answers.

“More precisely, it’s my sanctum. Where I will commune with our benevolent God and will find out the truth.” The Voices' words rang with tepid accusation.

“We fear not in Mother’s decision for we are confident in Seth’s place.” Piia snaps at the challenge, her patients short with her people’s leader.

“So you have shown. Striding into the tribe with disrespect to its culture and leadership.” He sneers, the grandfatherly joy melts with sudden bitterness.

“How have we disrespected anyone?” I question, lost at the sudden change in his tone.

“The taint has been law in the tribe for generations. A cultural decision to secure the safety of all Satyrs living here present and future. You believe you are the Shepherd and can pick and choose the rules you wish to ignore and approve. Arrogance and blasphemy will not win you favour here.” He fumes with white hot rage.

“It is not like that, I meant no such insolence or disregard of Satyr culture. Piia was blessed by Mother herself only days ago and therefore can’t have been corrupted by this taint.” I retort in defence, keeping my tone calm to resolve the heated discussion.

“So you claim, just as you claim to our prophesied Shepherd.”

“I can prove that I am a Shepherd right now, do you have a way of showing your personal classes?” I ask with hope, thinking it will instil some much needed trust.

“Congratulations human, you have been rewarded by Orda with a job. That means nothing, many of your kind poke cattle around.”

“Okay, that might be true. But I bump into Piia in the middle of nowhere, just in time to save her and hear of this prophecy. And Mother saving Piia’s life is an omen, without her I would never have survived Silva or found the tribe.”

“Mother will always save her followers that venerate her truly. This is merely her wish to keep the tribe strong and allow Piia to return home. This folly of guides is blasphemy.”

“Blasphemy, that is Satyr dung!” My friend’s exhaustion was pushing her to the end of her tether.

“I speak for her, I interpret her ways, it was I, who foretold the prophecy. And I say it’s blasphemy to say otherwise!” He rushes forward, faster than I thought possible. The limp and hunched form forgotten as his immense build towers over us, his rage flowing freely.

“I am not trying to disrespect you or what you stand for. I am only here to help where I can. Please have faith in me, just like the tribe. Just talk with Mother, see what she says before making any judgement.” The Voice stiffens slightly at the mention of the tribe’s trust in me, he muddles off the words for a few seconds then suddenly resets his composure once again.

“I must apologise Seth, and to you to, Piia. These are troubled times, with enemies on all sides. I forget my friends standing by my side. You are right, I will talk with Mother and her wisdom will set the course of our destinies. Her way is always a clear path that we shall all respect, us and the tribe.” His expression had softened again, returning to that of a loving grandfather.

“We understand, our journey here crossed paths with many of those muking creatures.” I remember the countless near death experiences we had.

“Muking creatures, ahah!” He bellows, reaching out and placing a hand on my shoulder.

“I see the Satyr in you already Seth. You will make a fine member of our family, no matter what Mother’s decision.” The Voice beams a charismatic smile before turning away.

“Now I must rest before communing in the sanctum, but before you go. You mentioned you had some news.” He looks over his clocked shoulder.

“We fought humans in Hearthold and also Daemons were building a base only a few suns walk from here, I acquired a military manual on basic teachings for their horde’s soldiers.” Piia explains through gritted teeth.

The Voice spins on the spot at this new information, his full attention now back on us.

“These humans, how many were there? What did they look like?”

“They were three Bukkehorn hunters, dressed for their disgusting trade in leathers, traps and weapons.” She replies.

“Only three? No others?” His hazelnut-green eyes bore into us with unprecedented intensity.

“Yes, only three and they’re scavenger muk by now. They won’t be a problem, unlike the Daemon army that is advancing through Silva as we speak.” I say while the Voice looks often distantly again, his attention coming and going. Piia removes the thick guide from her satchel and offers it to the muddling Voice.

“Right well, we have much to think about,” He takes the book with disinterest, barely glancing at it before placing it down on a crowded table of empty wooden bowls and burning candles. “Thank you again. I must convene with our Mother to discuss our little predicament. We will speak again in the morning, at first light.” He turns away and limps to an array of cushions in the back, surrounded by more tables overflowing with food, herbs and bottles.

“The Daemon hordes are more than a predicament, they will burn through the village like a wildfire during a drought.” I vent with frustration, the urgency of the situations lost on the old Satyr.

“First light! Thorns!” He whips back.

Four of the masked soldiers march in and stand on either side, their close proximity and spears indicating the discussion is over.

“Come on Seth.” Piia grabs my arm and drags me back to the door and out into the fresh air. The sounds of children playing and forest critters surround us, reducing the sour vexation of dealing with the Voice. The peaceful climate of village life reminds me of the much needed rest we’ll get now. Cane lifts his head in a giant yawn, causing many young Satyrs to run away in dramatic and playful horror. Piia, having not stopped her march, is pacing away from the tippee with determination. I jog after, closely followed by Cane and a herd of new small followers in our wake.

“What was going on with you in there?” I ask when I finally catch up.

“It is just him, he pretends every decision he makes is because of Mother’s wishes or for a greater kindness to the tribe. But when you peel back the spiritual muk, you see a man that’s scared to lose his power.” I disagree with her opinion on the Voice, but I lose interest in the conversation when I see we have arrived by the stream. The once clear water is now flowing with a blue foam on top. Several other Satyrs are bathing already, a group of younglings are being supervised by their carer or parents, using a blue goop to clean themselves. Piia takes a handle of the blue jelly substance from a water bowl and then moves further upriver from the other Satyrs. I take a handful as well, the slimy substance feels like pure fat and smells of absolutely nothing. As I reach the water's edge near my friend, the argument with the Voice and all the events of the last few days disappear, I am finally going to clean myself. Without care of modesty, I rip my putrid clothes off and dive in. My lungs and heart react in a meagre panic from the chilly water, its temperature far lower than a decent bath. But the sensation of wiping days old grime, dirt, blood, tears, monster fluids and more from my body is completely worth it. A giant splash announces Cane’s entrance into the body of water. I wait for his cute ears to break the water's surface but none come, much to the disappointment of the waiting younglings on the bank. I begin to scrub hard with the blue jelly, covering my entire body with blue foam and after wiping it all off, I repeat the process two more times until the cleaning substance is all gone. The last child of Cane's entourage, or stalkers, lets out a deep sigh and turns towards the village.

“Hey kid, I'll make sure he plays with you tomorrow.” I yell after him.

The child beams with delight and races off to tell his chums, the child’s tiny body is soon consumed by ferns and tippees. I notice a tiny bubbling jetstream next to me, it soon erupts into Cane's head, he must have been watching them. Piia, now clean as well with some blue foam on her head, is lost in thought. The deep bags under her eyes told of our travels here. I thought she would be delighted on her return to the tribe but her tension and stress are still very evident.

“I think we should trust in Mother’s decision, the Voice is only a messenger for her. And she’s on our side, we both know that.” I say trying to relieve her anxiety.

She looks over at me and then finally smiles softly.

“You are right Seth. Mother has a purpose for me, my destiny was to bring you here. I was only hoping the Voice would see reason in our argument. I can’t help but think the worst.”

The sun is dropping low now, twilight in the forest is a beautiful moment of colours and nature shifting into a night cycle. Birds sing their bedtime songs as nocturnal insects wake their orchestras for territorial and mating announcements.

“Yadon mentioned an empty tippee at the edge of the village, we can rest there tonight.” She swims to the bank and climbs out, gathering her satchel and weapons she stands and lets the water drip off her fur.

“We will know the truth by first light.” She says with confidence.

“By first light.” I repeat back, a whisper of doubt gnawing within me.