"No commoner worshipers may ascend."
Before me were two guards. They wore bronze plate like an ancient Greek hoplite's and carried long spears. Their large, square shields lay propped against them on the ground. Emblazoned on them was the symbol of the Servants of Yarth-Tanophk. They gave me the glum, dirty looks compulsory for those in their profession.
Standing between them, right on the steps leading up the ziggurat, was a junior priest. He was bald and wore a white robe with a black, curling tattoo only on his forehead. In his hands was a wooden box with a slit.
"That's all right," I smiled at him. "Because I'm not common."
"That may be,” he replied. “But you are not known to us, worshiper. Should you wish to ascend and partake of the secret rituals, would that you would make kind donation to demonstrate your faith?"
"Donation? Sure! Always happy to give to a good cause. How much?"
He looked me up and down like a waiter stuck with an uninvited guest at a black-tie dinner. "10 gold pieces."
"10 gold?!"
"Yes."
"That’s a lot of money."
He turned away and smiled at a well-dressed merchant who walked past me. The merchant began climbing the stairs without a second glance at me.
"Fine," I reached into my coin purse and produced 10 gold pieces. "Here's your 'donation.' Not sure you know buddy, but in the slave market just down that way, that's enough to buy a girl out of Victoria's Secret catalog."
He took the coins without a word and slipped them one by one into his wooden box.
"Ascend, Faithful One, and let the secret rituals of the Mi-Go be yours."
I began climbing.
The stairs were quite steep; in places, I had to lean forward and use my hands, as if I was climbing a rock wall. A world like this keeps you on your toes, though. I reached the top of the first tier and looked down. The merchant was only halfway, panting and red-faced, staring up at me.
"The view is worth it!" I gave him a thumbs up and turned away.
At the top of the tier was an open walkway that ran along its edges. I walked it, nodding to a couple of low ranking priests I saw coming my way. Besides them, I saw no one else.
At intervals along the walkway were gardens. They were closed off on three sides by stone walls and accessible by a single wooden door. On the fourth side, they were open, facing out to the view. Most looked out over the temple complex. Others, on the dense packed mud houses and twisting lanes of the town.
A second set of stairs led up to the second tier. There I found two more guards, and a more senior priest.
"I would like to ascend," I said, smiling. "What is the donation?"
"You cannot ascend," he said. The shrines above are only for the high priests."
"Oh? But surely, for the right price perhaps someone could show-"
"We thank you for your support, Faithful One, but do not ask again."
I bowed and left, their eyes no doubt burning into my back to hurry me along.
Once around a corner where they couldn't see, I regarded the wall of the second tier. The brickwork was smooth, almost completely flat. There was no climbing it. Unless I wanted to try killing three men (in full view of hundreds of worshipers), there was no going further.
There were the gardens, though. Did they have more than some flowers and idols?
I went to one at the 'back,' a garden that didn't face out on the temple complex but instead out on to Ebugal. I looked down: the complex's wall here was barely ten feet from the bottom of the ziggurat. Beyond the wall were the packed mud houses and winding streets of the town.
I saw no cultists below. In the town, a child sitting in the dirt was playing with a wooden toy while a kitten rubbed itself against his back. A heavyset woman was hanging out her washing and muttering to herself. An old man sat smoking a hookah while a naked, collared slave girl knelt between his thighs and pleased him.
I went to the garden’s door, pushed it open, and stepped in.
It was a grassy lawn about 60 feet on its side. It was split by walkways of white paving stones and twisted exotic trees I had never seen before. Their leaves were dark, almost blue-black. Pale, drooping flowers like dead hands in surgical gloves hung from them.
Hanging from each tree, bound by her wrists, was a naked slave girl.
I stepped up to one, a tanned blonde with brown eyes who looked about 20. Standing on her tiptoes, she turned to face me and smiled.
"Greetings, Master!" Said the petite girl.
I gripped her by her throat.
On her left thigh was a slave brand, but she wore no irons. Her pelvis was shaved smooth and had been marked with the same black, curling tattoo I had seen the priests wearing.
"Why are you here?" I demanded.
"They are my temple girls, Faithful One."
I turned to see who had spoken.
Walking towards me was a tall, slender, pale woman with purple eyes.
She had long, red hair that fell to the small of her back. A white chest strap hid her breasts but bared a flat, toned, belly. Hugging her behind was a white loincloth that hung past her knees. Open, Roman-style shoes were laced up her calves.
In one hand, she carried a cloth bag filled with the strange, glove-like fruit. In the other, she held a whip.
"Greetings, Faithful One," she said with a bright, toothy smile. "I am priestess Galena! These pretty ones," she gestured to the naked slaves bound to the trees, "my temple girls, brides of the Mi-Go. Choose one that brings you delight, and I will anoint and prepare her to channel the Mi-Go's favor."
Temple girls! Sacred prostitutes or slaves used for sexual ritual: an institution going back to ancient Babylon.
I regarded them; they were all quite lovely.
"Take your time," Galena shook her hair back.
None, though, were as lovely as this pale beast with the purple eyes. I kept stopping and staring at her.
"I feel your gaze most heavily!" She laughed.
"Forgive me, priestess," I shook my head and broke the spell. "I have never seen a woman with such eyes is yours - let alone one so truly beautiful."
She blushed.
It is not every day that I deal with a free Hyperborean woman.
Even in a violent culture that celebrated abject female sex slavery, there were free women on Hyperborea, and they often had as many rights as free men (and more rarely, as much power).
Lower-class women's lives were shaped by practical needs, and they (usually) married for convenience. Upper-class women didn't need to: they were wealthy, and since children born of a husband's slaves were legally the wife's children, a free, propertied woman could delay marriage to whenever was most convenient (I knew of a 60-year-old man who married a 70-year-old woman, and 'their' child was born of a 19-year-old girl she gave him as a wedding present).
However, upper-class women had difficulty forming sexual companionships; how does a free woman compete with a naked girl in a cage? Also, would she even want to? A man who's relations with women are mostly at the end of a chain is less likely to impressed by a free woman than to be disappointed he cannot own her.
As such, unless they owned male slaves (which were incredibly rare), most upper-class women did not have sex with men.
This made them very easy to talk into bed.
"You are no farmer or merchant," she walked around me, taking me in as if it was I on display. "And your accent is one I have not heard before."
"As is yours. I am a hunter."
"A hunter?" She placed a bold hand on my arm and squeezed the muscle there. "Of beasts?"
"Of many things, it turns out. But most often, runaway slave girls."
She raised an eyebrow.
"Is there not too little coin in such work, compared with the slaying of beasts and the raiding of ruins?"
"You'd be surprised how much getting back a slave girl can be worth to a man. But tell me, what is this place? I have never been in one like it."
"Come," she took my hand - her skin was shockingly cold, "I will show you, Hunter."
She led me to the center of the garden. There, ringed by the trees with their bound captives, was a stone ritual table. Its sides and surface were crawling with Mi-Go inscriptions; looking closely at them made me dizzy. A single bronze chain hung from an iron ring with an attached bronze collar. Two incense burning braziers were on either side of the table. Facing the table was a 6-foot tall Mi-Go statue, holding oil-filled clay bowls and dripping wax candles.
"The Mi-Go wish their followers prosper, and send their blessings to all those who accept them as their Masters," said Galena. "Those privileged ones such as you Faithful One, partake of greater favors and the all-seeing protection of our masters. These temple girls were not bought in the market. They are loyal worshipers who gave themselves freely to the collar to become consecrated brides of the Mi-Go.
"They were free?"
"Yes! It is much sought after. There are more who would become brides, then needed. Only those most fortunate are selected."
"But they are slaves?" I regarded a tall brunette with tanned skin and large, brown eyes. She did not look away but smiled instead. It was not the desperate, needy smile of a slave who wishes approval or the hungry look of one who craves her Master's touch. It was a smile of complete and utter contentedness. "Why are the brides of the Mi-Go, not free women, or priestesses like yourself?"
Galena stopped and pursed her lips together as if holding back words that wanted to be spoken.
"So, you think the same?" I smiled.
"It is not for a lowly priestess to question the wisdom of the high priests," she said carefully.
I looked back at the tall, tanned brunette. The only thing that held her to the tree was a thick black cord. It had been coiled around her wrists many times: there must've been at least 3 feet of rope used to secure her. I looked around: the other slaves were similarly tied with an excess of rope.
I studied the purple-eyed priestess; she looked about 21 or 22.
"Yes?" She folded her arms, uncomfortable.
"Nothing," I lied. "I will select one of these brides to bestow upon me the favor of the Mi-Go. But, I must be sure to pick the right one!"
"Of course, Hunter! Please examine each of my girls. You will find each as pleasing as any other, once you chained her throat to the altar."
I went to the tall brunette. She was a fine beast; her belly was flat; she didn't have a scrap of fat on her body. I stroked her thighs and licked her neck.
"This one is superb, but I must compare her against the others. Tied to this tree will not do. Can I untie her?"
"Yes, let me help you," she untied the brunette's wrists, tapped the girl on the shoulder, and nodded. The brunette nodded back and knelt before me, knees apart, back straight, her palms down on her thighs.
I gripped her by her hair and yanked her head back.
"Very good," I said as she gasped and looked up at me into my eyes. "What is your name, Slave?"
"Sola, Master," said the brunette.
"Except for your mistress Galena, you may be the most beautiful girl here. It is a shame you are not being sold in the slave market."
"Thank you, Master." She smiled.
"But I must be sure to pick the most favored woman here," I shook my head. "May I examine another in this way? May I put them side-by-side?"
"You honor my girls and me, Hunter," Galena clapped her hands together and smiled. "Most other faithful would have used a girl and left by now. Yes! You may examine them all if you like, lined up for you!"
In this way, I got Galena to untie the seven other girls in the garden. Soon a mix of brunettes, blondes, and dark-haired (but not pale-skinned) girls knelt naked in a line before me. They giggled and whispered to each other; this must've been the most interesting thing to have happened to them in a while.
"What do you think, Faithful One?" Asked Galena, piling the black ropes in a heap. "Can you decide now which of the girls is the loveliest? The most favored and gifted of the Mi-Go’s brides?"
"Yes," I said with a glum face. "I can easily see which of them is the loveliest." I pointed to the tall brunette I had picked out earlier. "It is Sola."
Sola's eyes became wide, and she put a hand over her breasts in surprise, like she'd just heard she was the winner of a beauty pageant. The other girl next to her squeezed her hand, happy for her.
"But Hunter," Galena sounded confused, "this does not please you?"
"No, it does not."
"Why?"
"Because I thought you were the most beautiful temple girl."
The slaves gasped; Galena's eyes became wide, and her mouth an 'o' of surprise and checked anger.
"I am not a temple girl!"
"And why not? Only the most faithful to the Mi-Go are selected, yes? Do you not believe they should be free priestesses, like you?"
"I do, but-"
"Then why should you not be a temple girl yourself? Are you not worthy of being a bride of the Mi-Go?"
All the slaves stopped, their eyes on them mistress.
"No," she said after a pause. "I am as worthy as any of my girls are!"
"Then, I would ask that you be the vessel of the blessings, but of course, Sola is more beautiful than you."
"What?"
"I thought you would be the loveliest woman here, but look at her breasts! They are well-formed, good to be rubbed and pressed against a man, and milked in a shed. Looking at her closely, I can see that you are not half as pretty as she is. The Mi-Go would not favor you as they do her."
"How dare you!" She glared, her face red. "I was born in the very shadow of Yarth-Tanophk! My people have worshiped the Mi-Go for centuries!"
"That maybe, but I cannot speak for that. I have never seen one such as you, as closely as I have seen the girls of other nations. And, I have caught and collared many girls. I am an expert in the judging of naked females, you see. Again, look at her breasts! The Mi-Go will favor those over yours."
"How can you say such a thing!" She stamped her foot and made her hands into fists.
"Truly? Truly I cannot, Galena. I have not seen one such as you before. I would have to examine your beauty closely to make a judgment."
"Ha! I shall not bear myself to you!"
"Then, of course, don't. Though if you did, this matter would be settled. But I must ask you - what is wrong in presenting yourself, to be examined by one of the Faithful? I don't see, given that you have said plainly that you see these girls as your equals."
She regarded the slaves.
They regarded her.
"Fine!" She pulled off her chest straps. Her breasts jiggled as they were freed: large, perky, well developed. Her nipples were a warm pink. "See! What do you say now, Hunter?"
"Was that so hard? But you must do this properly. Take off the loincloth. Kneel alongside your sisters, and know what it is like to be a bride!"
She loosened her loincloth and let it fall to the grass. Her pelvis was as smooth as that of the slaves – and marked with the same swirly tattoo. Her buttocks well shaped; I enjoyed the sight of them as she moved to get in line alongside the other slave girls.
Her paleness struck me. There was nothing unusual about it, except that these were warm, sunny days, and the pale women of Ebugal, both free and slave, had tanned skins. Galena was not only neither tanned nor burned, but she also did not even have freckles. For all I knew, she could have stepped out of an ancient, glacial forest.
I walked up to her.
My hand cupped her jaw as I tilted her head back, her purple eyes looking straight into mine, proud and defiant.
"You are indeed the most beautiful woman here," I stroked her jaw. "And truly, you are a bride of the Mi-Go."
"The high priests have decreed-"
"Would you place the high priests above the Mi-Go?"
"No!"
"Then understand,” I gripped her by her hair, “that they have chosen you.”
She gasped.
“Slaves," I regarded the others, "know that you are lesser, and I, a hunter of beasts and slayer of men, do not want that which is lesser around me! Go!" I pointed to the garden’s entrance. "Go, and wait outside, and do not enter again until your mistress the Lady Galena bids you do so!"
"Yes, Master!" they chorused.
I watched as eight beautiful girls jumped to their feet and ran out of the garden.
Kneeling before me, Galena's lips parted, and her breasts rose and fell as she began breathing faster. She placed her hand on my knee, long, elegant fingers squeezing.
“I will take you cock,” her fingers moved up my thigh, “and give you such -”
"Still yourself," I grabbed her by her wrists and crossed them behind her back. I took one of the piled black ropes and tied her wrists together. She gasped in pain as I pulled them tight, the cord biting into her pale skin.
"What are you doing?" she looked up at me, puzzled and annoyed. "That is not how the ritual-"
I tore off a piece of her loincloth and gagged her with it. She squealed into the fabric as I tied the knot behind her head, but offered no resistance. It was only after I emptied out her cloth sack of fruit and pulled it over her head, that she realized what was happening.
She grunted and screamed into her gag, but the sound was muffled. She tried to tug her wrists free and stand; I shoved her down into the grass and planted my knee on her back. Her legs kicked and beat against the ground, but to no avail.
I kept her in place with my body weight while I quickly tied all the remaining black ropes together, making a long, single, tether. Dragging her behind me with her back to me, my arm locked around her neck, I went to the edge of the garden and looked down.
The ground was sixty feet below. From there, it was just ten feet or so to the temple complex wall. If I could clear that, then I could disappear into the winding paths and crammed buildings of Ebugal.
Standing outside the wall, looking up at me, was the giant, Mazgar slaver I had seen in the slave market.
I froze. If he gave the alarm, I would be done for.
The giant did not move. His eyes went from mine to the girl over my shoulder and back to mine. A huge, animal smile crept across his face and remained there.
I got moving again. If he was going to give me away, at least I would not be trapped on a temple.
I tied the rope to a tree, threw the struggling priestess over my shoulder, and began to fast-rope down the ziggurat.
I did not know how I did this safely, but once the adrenaline had worn off, I realized how mad I was.
Nevertheless, I reached the ground safely. Galena, to her credit, seemed to have realized what was happening and kept very still while we descended. Once on the ground, she began to kick and struggle again. I adjusted her over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes and scaled the temple complex wall. I jumped down the other side, careful to protect my prize from harm.
I looked around – the Mazgar was gone. The old man smoking from the hookah stopped to stare at me. His slave girl noted the change and pulled her head back and looked up at him.
Galena kicked and writhed, the energy and anger of a girl just captured.
The man pushed his slave's head back down and turned back to his hookah.
I made my way through the mud buildings, no one giving a man with a girl he had just captured a second glance.