The search band left the forsaken depot with a prayer before the shrine.
"We are hungry," said Stikken on his knees, arms raised.
"We are hungry," said the other cultists kneeling in a row behind him. Behind them in turn, silent and crouching with their foreheads to the sand were the slaves.
"We are landless, we are suffering," Stikken continued.
"We are landless, we are suffering."
"But we are children of the Mi-Go! Look to your left, look to your right!"
The men did so. The slaves remained motionless.
"What do you see?"
"Those blessed by the Mi-Go!" the men yelled.
"We are their whip and their spear! We claim all worlds, and they shall be our reward!"
"All the worlds to the Mi-Go! All the worlds to us!"
From the sleds where I was checking slave harnesses, I farted as loud as I could. Dirty looks were my reward, and that suited me fine.
The men gathered their gear, and we harnessed the pack girls and got on our way. Stikken marched Tela behind him on a rope leash. The Darfuri girl carried no burdens. Instead, her wrists were bound behind her back, and a short rope was tied between her ankles so she couldn't run. She was like a lizard's tail: ready to be shed to appease a predator. No one else gave her a second a glance.
We left the safety of the mound and crossed into open dunes. They were broken by stands of half-dead trees and the heads of deep-buried statues poking through the sand. A range of stone pyramids and a (somehow) still standing aqueduct in the distance marked the resumption of the thick city ruins. Whatever the reason for this great, open patch, I could not imagine. There no were broken walls of ancient bunds, or any other signs this may have once been irrigated land - just another mystery in a world of forgotten ages.
"I looked over the supplies by light of morning," whispered Fogrim, sneaking me his waterskin. "There is little left - barely enough to get back, much less continue."
"Then the depot was key," I took a sip and handed back the waterskin. "All we got for it was a barely a bag's worth of flour mixed with sand."
"Stikken is too relaxed for one wondering how to feed his men. The reverse, if anything. Perhaps his faith in his Mi-Go has grown to madness?"
"No," I replied. "I think he knows something."
By mid-morning, we could see what looked like a squat, green mound in the distance. My heart lifted at what I thought at first was grass.
"There it is!" said Stikken, stopping to check a scroll. It was one from Laram's recovered satchel. "Where Laram's band last dug."
"What is it?" asked Zealot.
"A temple," he rolled up the scroll, his face a giant, smug smile. "They found many treasures there. They did not finish their excavation, though. Laram swore his men to secrecy so they could return one day."
"Will we pass it by then?" asked Zealot.
"Of course not! It is now our dig! Why travel further and risk empty-handed return? We will make camp there and do tribute to Laram by finishing his work."
So that was his game.
Could we be back on our way in just a day or two of digging up garbage? Fogrim had been right. We were all going to get through this. I just had to put up with Stikken just a bit longer, and we'd return as successful tomb raiders - beyond any suspicion whatsoever. What couldn't we spy on, then?
We drew nearer, and the green mound resolved itself into a mass of carved, green stone. It was the upper part of a statue's head - mouth gaping like the entrance to a tunnel. The lower jaw was somewhere deep beneath the sand. What I'd taken for leaning pillars were stylized, bat-like ears - that of Tsathoggua. Going by its head, the buried statue was larger than the one atop the temple, back at the fortress.
Was there an even larger temple beneath it, buried by the sands?
The sculpting on the head was simpler, though, more brutal and raw. Circles of black marble had been cut and set into its eyes. They seemed to stare at us as we approached. It made me uneasy.
As we drew closer, I could see there was another, much smaller structure in front of it. It seemed like a tree, but there was something off about it.
We reached it, and the half-buried Tsathoggua head, by noon.
The above-sand portion of the head was immense. The eye stones alone were twice a man's height in diameter. The fangs were thick as elephant legs. From the sand below to the roof of the mouth, was about three stories. Inside though, all we make out was darkness.
Outside this mouth-cavern were the remains of an old camp. There was a pit for garbage, and a little further away, a dug latrine. Stones and blackened sand marked out campfires. There was even a neat pile of firewood.
It was the tree, though, that I couldn't take my eyes off.
It was an offering tree. It was much larger than the one back at the destroyed depot. It rose like a needle; its branches jutted from the trunk like diseased spurs. Its wood was blackened by lightning and fire. Half-enveloped stone tablets protruded from the bark. They were covered in runes that hurt my eyes if I focused on them too long. A stone base had been built around the pine-like tree; I could not tell if it had always been there, or been built to venerate the tree in a younger age.
I heard a cracking under my boot: something gave way beneath the sand. Around me, there were more cracking sounds as the band approached the tree. Men and slaves looked down and at each other. I stopped and dug in the sand. Just a few inches deep, my finger struck something hard. I lifted it out, sand streaming from it in the breeze.
It was a skull fragment.
I looked at the stone tablets. Most I could not read nor even recognize their scripts. On a few stones, I saw cuneiform, but in dialects too changed by time for my meager scholarship. What I did recognize were some basic words dating back to the first Sumerian colonists. Over and over, I saw a star-like design made with eight stylus marks. This eight-pointed star didn't denote Azathoth but godliness in general.
It was an offering tree now, but once it had been a shrine. Did it predate the Tsathogguan temple, altogether?
"We hold here," said Stikken, climbing up the steps of the stone base. The leashed Tela followed after him. "We will make camp on the old site, but first, I want to know there isn't something waiting for us inside that giant mouth. Tenth Man," he reached into his pack and threw me some rope. "You and your friend can go into the temple. You'll find a pit there with pitons going down into it. Tie this rope to them and come back when you're finished."
"What if there is something in there?" I took off my pack.
"You'll find out then, won't you?"
Fogrim and I left the tree, making our way across the sand to the statue's open mouth. It loomed above us as we neared it. It was a good hundred and fifty feet or so from the ancient offering tree.
"We will be safe inside," said Fogrim. "The stone will protect us."
"I don't understand. If the Chthonian wanted to catch us out on open sand, it's had its chance since morning."
"I cannot speak for the minds of such beings," he looked about, uneasiness behind his eyes. "But honest offering was made last night, and Stikken is now offering the Darfuri girl, again. Perhaps the beasts were sated after devouring the last band? Maybe the offer of tribute alone is why they permit us to pass."
"We've slighted them," I replied. "The Mi-Go shrine at the depot is an insult to Tsathoggua."
"And yet it was spared, at least as of the morning."
We reached the statue's mouth. A cool wind seemed to be blowing from inside it. There was a moistness to it that days in the dry desert has sensitized us to.
"There's water inside!"
"That alone is treasure enough for me, Brother."
We took some of the stacked firewood and built a small fire. We each picked a burning brand and entered the Mouth of Tsathoggua.
Just as Stikken had said, there was a large, square pit inside. We found a couple of pitons and roped them, but it was hardly necessary. The pit was barely ten feet deep, and its sides held in place by rocks and wooden beams. At the bottom of the pit were green flagstones - and a low, narrow passageway that descended.
"Let's see what's in there," Fogrim cracked his knuckles. His eyes gleamed - strange dark places with death, treasure, or both, I think were his element. What made him think he really wanted to farm? He ducked his head as he entered the passage-
Outside, a slave girl started screaming.
"What the hell?"
Fogrim stopped and stepped back.
The shrieking continued, louder and more desperate.
"That's Onska!"
We climbed out of the pit and ran out of the statue's mouth.
Across the sand, at the offering tree, I saw the tall brunette swinging by her wrists from a branch, twisting and screaming, legs thrashing. Stikken poked at her with the butt of his spear, laughing.
"That son of a bitch!" I drew my sword. "That's why he sent us; he wanted to string her up to get back at me!"
"By Cthulhu, she's just a slave, Gerard! We'll steal you a better girl when we go back!"
But I was gone, running across the sand, sword ready. Behind me, I heard Fogrim swearing and then the pounding of his feet, coming up behind me.
The men at the offering tree noticed. One tapped Stikken on the arm. He turned, saw me coming, and lost his smile. Onska kicked and twisted, her hollering was piercing.
There was a trembling in the ground.
"Gerard!" Fogrim yelled, "Feel that you fool!"
It grew. Ikram gripped his spear in both hands, eyes wide. Two harnessed slave girls huddled together. A third one started tugging at her harness, straining against the sled ropes and howling. Onska's screams turned to primal terror - it got the other slaves screaming.
Stikken yelled an order and pointed to the statue's mouth. The cultists, abandoning the sleds and the slaves, made a mad dash across the sand towards us.
I made for Stikken: his panicked eyes regarded me with swelling outrage. He snarled and drew his sword.
Sand geysered and came down in a sandstorm. Dust-obscured men were suddenly tumbling through the air, screaming. The air reeked like rotten meat and turned milk.
The Chthonian burst forth. It had the body of a white snake, thick and tall as a tree. It towered over us, a ring of tentacles was its head. It bellowed, a deep, unending, almost infrasonic sound. I clapped my hands over my ears - it felt like needles digging into my brain. Nauseau coursed through me. The world turned grey as I vomited, right on the edge of blacking out.
Everything slowed. I heard the far-away seeming sound of Stikken screaming as he turned and ran for the open desert. The Chthonian - so magnificent! So beautiful! It arched and struck down at him. Stikken disappeared in a cloud of sand. The beast's head rose, tentacles boiling like sharks in a feeding frenzy. I heard the sound of bones snapping.
The other men scattered in all directions. The slaves screamed and ran, tugging their sleds behind them. Fogrim's blonde was harnessed to the closer sled. It got about thirty feet before the Chthonian devoured it, slaves and all.
"Gerard! Gerard!" I took a moment to recognize my own name. It was Fogrim, grabbing my arm. "Come on, man!"
I wrenched free of him and ran to the offering tree. He did not follow.
Onska had stopped screeching. She shivered, death-pale, staring at the beast. She noticed me coming, and hope gave her life.
"Master! Master!"
I scaled the steps, leaped into the air, and slashed the rope that held her. She fell, tumbling to the ground.
"Come on!" I grabbed her arm and yanked her to her feet.
We ran. Behind us, we heard the screams of men and slaves. Above them, there was the roaring of the Chthonian. Sand fell so thick I could hardly see thirty feet ahead. I thought I heard Fogrim calling my name. I tried to run towards his voice, my fingers digging into my prize's arm.
I saw Tela run across our path. She screamed as the Chthonian plucked her into the air. It dropped her from the height of four stories: the girl screamed and flailed as she fell to the sand. It picked up her limp corpse and dropped it again, like a cat with a toy.
Onska stumbled and fell. I grabbed her by her collar; she choked as I yanked her to her feet. We ran past Ikram, who fell and rolled on to his back.
"No! Please no!" he flailed in the sand.
The Chthonian spat. Grey venom drenched Ikram, he screamed and thrashed as it hissed and steamed, burning through him. The Chthonian then lowered its head and gobbled him up. His body spilled apart like apples from a ripped bag.
Standing in the open mouth of the buried Tsathoggua was Fogrim. He waved a burning brand at me like a shipwrecked sailor at a passing galley.
We're almost there!"
The ground trembled, and the sand around me danced. A huge shadow grew overhead: the smell of rotting meat and spoiled milk was overwhelming. Onska looked back over her shoulder and screamed.
"We are hungry!" I heard a ragged voice gasp. "We are landless, we are suffering!"
Forty feet to my right, dragging himself across the sand with sand-filled hands, was Zealot. His legs were limp, deadweights. "But we are children of the Mi-Go! Look to your left, look to your right!"
The Chthonian whipped its head around and roared at him. It tore across the sand, grabbed him, and ripped him to shreds and red spray. It curled down and bashed the remains into the sand.
"Go!" I released Onska and shoved her towards the statue.
She turned and looked back at me.
"Go!" I yelled. I stopped and turned. Hands shaking, heart exploding, I made the mark of Tsathoggua in the sand. I tried to remember how it looked on the bellies of Megaros' Shang slaves. Had I done it, right? No, that bit's jagged! Fix it! Shit, that's too much! Just do another one! Do another!
Sand rained down, and a shadow grew over me - I kept my head down and worked. The smell of rotting meat was so great I almost vomited again. Panic seized me: I should just run!
A split second before I broke, the Chthonian veered away. It darted across the sand, and I heard fresh screaming.
I ran to Fogrim and Onska at the statue's open mouth. I collapsed beneath its immense stone arch, and the slave crouched at my side. I looked back. The Chthonian was hunting down the others, one by one. It seemed to be following the sounds of their screams.
"Thank you, Master!" tears streamed down Onska's reddened face. "Thank you!"
I recentered myself by tying a rope to the bindings around her wrists. I measured two handspans to her neck and looped the rope three times around it. I tied a knot and gripped the end of what was now a leash.
"What did you do?" Fogrim stared like I'd emerged from under a crushed building and then casually asked if he'd fancy a beer. "Why did it spare you?"
"The power of prayer," I smiled weakly.
"Such a mighty creature!" Fogrim looked back at the beast, eyes gleaming. "Look what just one did! An army could not stand against it! If I died now, mine would be tale enough that my father and grandfather will bid me take well-earned seat beside them on the Great Mountain!" he shook his head, beaming. Then he turned and regarded me, losing his smile. "All that for a slave? You risked your life for what? Seven or eight gold's worth of chained meat?"
"It's not about gold," I got to my feet, my legs like jelly. Trembling, Onska put her lips to my feet and began kissing them. In between, she mumbled prayers to Azathoth.
"Then what is it about?"
She looked up at me with large, brown eyes.
What was it about?
"The slave girl is mine," is all I said. "I decide what happens to her."
In the distance, the Chthonian shrieked.
"Well the girl is certainly yours now. It is a shame we lost all the other women and the food."
"There's water down there," I pointed to the passageway at the bottom of the pit. "Might be enough to get us to Megaros' cottage. For food, we can use the slave as bait to trap and kill a vulture. The meat will last us all the way back."
He laughed.
"You think we can leave with that thing out there?"
"It hunts by sound, that much is plain now," I watched it move deeper into the desert, chasing someone. It moved slowly, stopping and starting. It was playing with its prey. "That's why it didn't kill Tela back at the depot. Tela was silent the whole time she'd been strung up - it didn't even know she was there. This one though, made quite a scene," I nudged her cheek with my foot. She shrank back. "That's why it came for her. It just happened to find the rest of us running around, too."
"No, it was already stalking us. It would have attacked last night, but it would not climb rock. Why did it wait for your woman to be offered? And offering trees are sacred, Gerard. The beasts they feed keep their pacts."
"Pacts made with whom? As far as I've seen, Aymund only worshipped Tsathoggua. I would be dead now except that a poor, dumb bastard started praying to the Mi-Go. Did you see how fast the Chthonian turned and went for him? What it then did to his body? It ate the slaves because they were just food. But, it ate the cultists because they insulted its god. That's what happened to Laram's band - they broke the rules and made a shrine. Old rules. They were never going to get away with that."
"But it still could have killed us, hours ago," he persisted. "Why waste time following us through the open desert?"
"Maybe it thought some of us worshiped Tsathoggua? I made the mark of Tsathoggua in the sand, and it let me go. I think that's also why Megaros has survived out here. Before these assholes turned up, Tsathoggua-worshipers would have been the only people this creature dealt with."
"That was a long, long time ago."
"To us. Come on; I don't want to be standing here when it comes back. Let's see where this passage goes."