God Within Us

Yesugei leaned in his saddle and brushed one hand through cool, lapping waters as his horse trotted through the shallows of the Jigai river.

Where the road through the steppe split north and west, so too did the landscape split as the flat, dusty grasslands gradually gave way to the rocky, uneven forested terrain of the northern borderlands between the Klyazmite city-states and the domain of the Great Khormchak Horde. Dizzyingly-tall pines formed a sea of dark green in the distance, and as he gently drove his horse through the waist-high waters Yesugei saw the yellow steppe melt into the green forestry. A rough dirt trail marked by small stones cut a path through the dense woodlands - the nearest Klyazmite outpost lay somewhere beyond the treeline, its residents relying on the rolling forested hills to guard them from mounted steppe bandits.

Yesugei drew his horse to a halt at the base of a low hill as he studied the forest ahead. The trees clustered so tightly together their canopy seemed to block near all light from reaching the ground - shrouding the road ahead in shadow even in the middle of the day. He recalled the stories his brothers told him of cannibals and sorcerers who lurked in the woods, unafraid of Khormchaks and wielding fire-hardened wooden spears. It was not cannibals nor sorcerers that gave Yesugei pause now, but the memory of the Modkhai assassins as they peeled from the shadows of twilight in their attack. The steppe was foreign, alien, unwelcoming to the Modkhai - but now they were crossing into their territory, their woods. In the crowded confines of a forest a man on horseback was cumbersome, unwieldy, and easy prey for a patient spearman or archer hiding amidst the many bushes, rocks, and logs that dotted the spaces between the trees.

But another feeling coursed through Yesugei as he beheld the woods. A sense of unease, far stronger than the mere apprehensiveness of leaving his homeland and traveling into foreign territory. He felt a strange, buzzing feeling rise from his chest and spread through the rest of his body as his eyes tried to pierce the shadows of the forest - a sense of primal, animalistic fear seized his soul and told him to turn back. The same kind of fear and tension that hung in their air when they first discovered the cursed sigil and the scattered dead.

Yesugei heard the clopping steps of his companions’ horses cease, and turned back to see Khenbish, Targatai, and Kaveh standing just behind him. Each man seemed to be seized by the same unease as they studied the woods, eyes darting through the treeline in search of silhouettes. Tseren broke the silence as he galloped down to them from the edge of the treeline. Even the shaman who cut his teeth tracking in such forests seemed disturbed.

“You all feel it, don’t you?” the shaman said as he pointed his horse-whip in the direction of the forest road. The shadows seemed more than just shadow - the more Yesugei looked, the more he felt he was staring into darkness given liquid form as the shadows twisted seemingly of their own accord.

“A curse, a curse upon us all lies ahead,” lamented Targatai, spitting to one side. For the first time, the keshik looked frightened. “Dark woods like these are no place for our people.”

“It’s the same feeling as at that massacre,” said Yesugei. He patted his horse on the side, and felt the great beast nearly startle beneath his gentle touch. “Something there scares even the horses.”

“Is this the path Dagun-noyan would have even taken?” Kaveh questioned, scratching his chin. His half-brother shifted uncomfortably in his saddle. “He could have taken the road to the south-”

“The road south would wind along the mountains,” said Tseren with a shake of his head. “And there are precious few stops along the way. And besides that - come with me, the four of you.”

With some prodding and urging Yesugei’s horse trotted reluctantly closer to the forest, followed by the keshiks and Kaveh. He saw Tseren dismount just a few feet ahead, and point at a patch of grass.

“Look there, in the dirt…”

Yesugei peered down from his saddle and saw a disorganized line of rough smudges in the dark earth - and within them could make out the shape of horses’ hooves.

“These were left by Khormchak horses, not destriers of the west,” remarked Tseren with a pointed glance at the four Khormchaks. He brushed his hands along the earth, and felt a small crumb of dirt between his fingers. “It rained around here not long ago - five days at most. Several dozen riders came through here - wearing heavy armor or laden with supplies. How many other tribes would have business sending this many men through foreign lands but the Qarakesek?”

“Are you sure about this?” asked Yesugei, his eyes slowly drifting from the tracks in the watered earth to the dark path that lay ahead.

“Unless you think Dagun would have risked trawling through the woods off the main road, yes, I am certain.”

Possibilities and paths whirled through Yesugei’s mind as he contemplated the dark forest road trail. The next nearest outpost to the east was at least a day’s ride away, through the domain of the Quanli. But then, why even continue the search in the first place? If Jirghadai-khan had truly seized Dagun, then to search further west was a moot point - the emissary could have been taken anywhere out along the hundred-mile stretch through Jirghadai’s lands. Yet there was no sign of battle, no sign of struggle that Tseren nor the others had found in their careful scouting of Jirghadai’s territory. And Ardager - the impetuous Quanli commander - seemed genuine with his words when he mentioned Dagun traveling in luxury along the trail of Klyazmite outposts to the west. At the very least, to lie so quickly and naturally seemed beyond the abilities of the blustering noyan.

Yesugei felt himself becoming drawn in by the shadowed trail. He wondered - did Dagun and his men also come upon this curse? Had the shadows greeted him and his men as they forged their path through the forests, or had they appeared recently, much like the scattered bloodless bodies left by the Modkhai? And if the shadows did lurk and twist around them, would Dagun have even been aware? Yesugei felt as though it was only under Tseren’s pointed guidance that he was able to really see the shifting, light-swallowing darkness that lay within the strange crystals Tseren had shown him last night, and which now lurked within the depths of the woods. Whether the shaman was aware of it or not, Yesugei wondered whether there was some magic at work, concealing things that when revealed, appeared to have been there all along.

“Yesugei,” called Kav gently, pulling his horse forward so they stood side-by-side. “Where do we go next?”

The question was genuine - within it lay no challenge, no test of bravery. Yesugei looked at Kaveh and saw the same primal fear lurking behind his light-blue eyes. They had been standing at the border of the shadowed woods for near half an hour now - a group of five battle-tested warriors raised in the unforgiving Hungry Steppe brought to a stop by a mere forest. Where Yesugei once drove the others forward in relentless dogged pursuit of Dagun, now he himself was faltering, searching for excuses and other options when the path ahead seemed plain as day - even if none of the men wished it to be so. He gathered his spirits and tightened his hold on the reins of his horse, feeling the leather creak beneath his grip.

“We keep moving. Our search is not finished until we find Dagun-noyan - dead or alive.” Yesugei urged his horse forward, and crossed into the darkness.

Their world was swallowed by shadows as Yesugei, Kaveh, Tseren, Targatai, and Khenbish pressed on. The noise and light of the outside world and the steppe immediately faded away, replaced by the eerie music of the forest. Strange, low howls echoed through the woods, snaking between the ancient tree trunks. Every so often Yesugei heard the rustling of leaves and tree branches up above, even though no wind blew across the ground. They traveled slowly through the woods, with Tseren keeping a careful eye on the dimly-lit, snaking dirt trail which carried them in a winding path past giant boulders and through small abandoned clearings. Yesugei realized what caused his skin to crawl - more than the strange howling of the woods, all life seemed to have fallen silent. No insects buzzed, no critters lurked along the forest floor, no birds rustled their feathers in the midst of the creaking branches.

“How much further to the outpost?” whispered Khenbish, sweat dripping from underneath his helmeted brow. The keshik’s scaled armor clattered softly as he raised one hand to wipe his face, his eyes darting around as the warrior tried to look every which way at once.

Tseren halted, casting a quick glance about the forest as he searched for landmarks. “We passed by the moss-grown boulders…an hour ago? We should be nearing the outpost soon - it lies near a great, stony valley.”

“Maybe they’ll have sunlight there as well as answers,” said Kaveh. “I hate this place. If we ever return here, I am coming with an army of sappers and cutting this forest to the ground, spirits be damned.”

“Don’t let your fear cloud your judgment Kaveh,” said the shaman as he shot a dark look at Kaveh which set the princeling’s complaints quiet. “The spirits of these woods are good and you know it. This darkness is not their doing - it is heretical magic which has tainted their realm, drained it of color and life.”

“Then let's find these heretics and kill them already,” growled Targatai, summoning anger to mask his fear. “It is not right for mortal men to have this kind of power. But they are only mortal, and their blood will spill as easily as any others.”

“Then let’s keep moving.”

The rest of the journey through the woods continued in watchful silence. Eventually, Yesugei felt the wind begin to pick up as a light breeze rolled across his face. Up ahead, he saw the dark shades of the trees split to reveal sunlight, and the rocky face of a distant mountain. He dug his heels into his horse’s side gently, and sped from a slow walk to a quick trot to catch up with Tseren, who had already ridden ahead to the treeline.

As he rode out from the woods, Yesugei took a deep lungful of the crisp highland air that struck him head-on. He savored the clean, cool air and the sight of the open, gray skies before looking down at the sprawling valley. The Klyazmites had set up a settlement at the lowest point in the valley, atop a small embankment beneath which snaked a thin stream. Yesugei’s eyes drew from the stream to a small collection of huts that ran just along the bank - the dwellings of fishermen or perhaps hunters - and then rose up along the embankment towards the outpost.

A gigantic black stone jutted out from the outpost square, like a great spine pointed towards the heavens. The stone leaned slightly such that one of the outpost watchtowers’ roofs crumpled beneath its bulk, and several smaller houses within the outpost walls were uprooted or half-buried beneath the avalanche of earth that came in the wake of the stone’s seeming eruption. The great stone radiated twisting tendrils of darkness that looked wrong, alien, like they had been painted by some divine hand against the forested landscape. The tendrils lapped at the streaming daylight like so many hungry tongues, swallowing, eating the light and leaving behind hypnotizing, sinking nothing.

“Gods...what is that?”

Kaveh brought his steed up, followed by Targatai and Khenbish. The five of them stood at the head of the valley for a torturous moment.

The bleakness of the cursed woods seemed a folly compared to this gigantic obelisk that almost seemed to come alive, hungering for the daylight. Yesugei felt the urge to turn back and run, on foot or on horse, but his body refused to obey - he felt his hands shaking as he held the reins in a death grip, his body overcome with trembling fear as his eyes refused to tear themselves away from the yawning void of nothingness that radiated from the jutting stone.

“Demons tear me…” breathed Tseren. “Spirits above, the legends are coming back to life.”

“What legends?” cried Kaveh as he turned to face Tseren, his eyes wide with fear. “Your peoples’ stories? The black crystals? WHAT IN GOD’S NAME IS GOING ON?!”

“Harvest.” Tseren whispered the word, but to Yesugei it felt like a knife had been driven into his guts.

The word dripped with naked terror, of a kind he had never seen the normally calm and assured Tseren ever display.

In that moment, none of them had answers - only the shared feeling of dread as they gazed upon the unreal obelisk. Even now it still looked unbelievable, this fragment of a seeming other world. The old myths and folk stories flooded to Yesugei - all talk of dark spirits, the dual Heavens, the god of the sky and his many aspects. The rituals and myths of his childhood had always seemed like mere tales, at best only half-believed as he grew into a man tempered by the daily realities of life on the steppe. But now, all experience and reason took flight in the face of the utterly unexplainable, horrifying reality before him.

“Magic is real.” Yesugei’s voice trembled as he spoke like a man possessed, his mouth forming the words of its own accord as his terrified mind scrambled and raced trying to find reason where there was none. “The legends are real. They are coming to life, and they will swallow us whole.”

“Shut up!” yelled Kaveh. The veins in his half-brother’s forehead looked like they would burst at any moment as Kav gripped the reins of his horse and turned to look at Targatai and Khenbish, but received no words of affirmation from them.

Yesugei forced himself to rip his gaze from the obelisk, and scanned the settlement once more for movement. Nothing remotely human stirred down in the valley - only the lapping waters and long highland grasses.

“We need to get closer,” said Yesugei. “Look for survivors, records, anything. Then we leave this place.”

“Are you crazy? We need to leave now.” Kaveh drew his horse in front of Yesugei. His half-brother’s face was pale as snow, his eyes wide and his breathing uneven, rattling.

“No. We need to find proof - bring it before Father, the other khans at Khurvan.” Yesugei looked to Tseren. “Tsermaa-guai, you said our father believed you when you spoke of these legends?”

“Resolutely enough to arm and armor his sons and daughters against this evil, yes.” replied the shaman.

Kaveh gestured towards the trail leading back through the darkened woods. “So why not leave now? If Father believes us-”

“-then he will look a fool in front of the other khans,” Yesugei shot back. “And they will call him a madman for believing the terrified words of a drunkard shaman and his ignorant sons. You cannot rally an army on legends alone - if we bring something, perhaps a chunk of that stone with us, then they will realize what shit we’re all in.”

“We don’t need the other khans to believe us. We have fifty-thousand riders under our banner.”

“And how many do the other tribes have between them all? Sixty, seventy-thousand? And what do you think they will do when the Great Khan sends his warriors after a fairy tale from his two sons, while Jirghadai gathers his own allies and wealth at the kurultai? We need the other tribes to realize that we’re dealing with here - the Great Horde did not conquer our foes solely on the back of the Qarakesek.”

To this, Kaveh seemed to have no reply. Instead, his half-brother looked once more at the crystal and shivered as the darkness matched his gaze.

“Fuck it. But we spend no more time than we absolutely need.”

Tseren trotted his horse forward past Kaveh, and Yesugei followed. Just before he passed by Kaveh however, his half-brother caught him by the arm.

“No longer than we absolutely need,” repeated Kaveh, his eyes deadly serious. “If we tarry, I’ll ride home with or without you.”

Yesugei almost believed his brother’s words as he yanked his arm free and followed Tseren. As he trotted forward, Yesugei heard the sharp, rhythmic cawing of crows as a black flock flapped past him overhead, and circled the outpost. Yesugei wondered if they were returning to their roosts in the thatched roofs as he descended. As he slowly walked his horse across the valley stream and approached the outpost gate, he saw what truly attracted the crows beyond the thrown-open doors.

There were at least fifty of them - strong and infirm, young and old, and children as young as three. The bodies of Klyazmite settlers piled high around the base of the gargantuan obelisk. The smell of fresh blood was dizzying, but Yesugei brought one hand up, stopping his speechless companions as he dismounted. Chopped and cut apart by cruel blades, the Klyazmites lost their lives with none left to hear their cries. As Yesugei carefully studied the corpse pile at a distance, he saw their mouths were filled with stones, their jaws forced open to breaking. Severed limbs lay scattered in the dirt like fallen leaves. Something moved in the dirt near one of the severed limbs, and Yesugei saw a black, squirming worm appear from a chopped, pale hand.

No…not a worm.

Blood, coagulated and black from age, slowly inched its way through the ground. Yesugei saw other pools of blood about the outpost square slowly pull themselves across the ground as well, dripping ever closer towards the corpse pile like carrion maggots in search of food, draining the severed limbs white.

Yesugei felt himself beginning to shake and slowly looked behind him. All of his companions, wide-eyed and pale as the northern glaciers, drew their weapons as they dismounted and joined him at the gate. Yesugei pulled his own sword free, holding it softly with his injured arm.

An unbearable weight felt like it was rooting Yesugei to the ground as he drew just outside the outpost entrance. His mouth felt suddenly dry. His heart raced with fear.

Then, with a soft, rattling breath, he stepped through the gate.