The applicant moved
to kneel before the gathered cult members. It occurred
to him at that time how different this group was from
his preconceived notion of what a cult should be.
No chanting echoed forth in a sewer cave hidden from
the prying eyes of the public. None present wore heavy
robes with hoods or masks covering their faces. No.
None of the fictional trappings of a cult at all.
He raised his eyes
to steal a glance at the ones before him. The cult
had formed a semicircle around him with the group's
High Priestess standing directly before him. A pale-skinned
Stygian noble woman stood behind and to the left of
the Priestess. That would be Nkosi, the necromancer whom
he had heard much about. Apparently it was her visions,
given to her by Set himself, that started this wheel
in motion. She seemed to stare right through him,
whispering in the High Priest's ear.
The applicant quickly
lowered his gaze, the shadows covering his face concealed
a grim frown. He knew the risks to be great when the
Mitra priestess asked him to infiltrate The Hand.
The sheer amount of gold offered persuaded him however
and thus far it had been an easy payday. His reports
had not provided much in the way of useful information
but now he was about to be accepted into the cult
and his pockets would grow heavy indeed!
Without preamble
the High Priestess addressed the gathered followers.
"Faithful of The Hand, today this man has come
forth to join us in our holy cause. Father Set be
praised!" The crowd responded with their agreement
then the Priestess continued. "As is our custom,
our doors are open wide to those who wish to become
members of Set's Hand. We fear no enemy, no spy or
deceiver for each is judged by the Father himself!"
The applicant frowned
once more, fear suddenly passing over him as he considered
those words. He'd heard them spoken before of course,
but not by a High Priestess standing in front of him
preparing to offer him membership into her cult. No,
this might turn badly. Eyes darting from side to side,
he appraised his surroundings once again, this time with
an eye for escape routes.
"May the Judgment",
continued the Priestess, "by the Father be true and
swift. Rise now and have your soul bared before us."
No, he did not like
the sound of that. He rose slowly, his gaze noting
bare feet upon stone before him. Nkosi had stepped
forward and now stood between he and the Priestess. A
flash of white passed in front of him and he felt
his head being raised by her ice cold hand. A smile
played across her face but no mirth lay behind it.
Fear washed over him anew as he met her gaze. Her
eyes had gone completely black, no iris or pupil,
just two black orbs that bore into him. For a moment
they stayed this way before a wide grin spread across
her face, exposing fangs that glistened in the light.
Her voice, soft and sibilant carried loudly within
the room. "The Father has found him worthy."
Muscles he hadn't
realized were rigid relaxed and he took a deep breath
in, tasting the cool air as the crowd cheered. Nkosi
moved with inhuman grace across the room, seeming
to glide across the floor with each step like that
of a dancer, exotic and seductive. She stopped before
an unnoticed table and raised a simple wooden cup
before her, extending it towards him with both hands
as she moved forward.
"Drink."
She said simply as he took the cup from her hands.
He drank slowly, amazed at its wondrous flavor as
Nkosi returned to her place. His gaze followed her
form as he finished, raising an eyebrow in curiosity
when she stopped, turning slowly to peer over her
bare shoulder at him. "Yes. The Father has found
you worthy. Worthy of a painful death. Set does not
abide scorpions of Mitra within the serpents lair."
The words washed
over him like an icy breeze. Smiling faces around
him now turned quickly to scowls and more than one
hand reached for a weapon. The High Priestess, who seemed
as surprised as he by the necromancer's statement
moved forward, murder in her eyes. Sensing his coming
doom, the applicant turned his back to the group and
sped for the window nearby. Heedless of his own safety,
he plunged through the glass, coming up in a roll
in the street outside. Making all possible haste,
he spared a single glance over his shoulder but saw
no pursuit.
Making his way through
back alleys, he moved at last to a seedy tavern at
the edge of the district. There he entered quickly,
closing the door behind him and taking a seat in the
shadows. Sweating, he called to the tavern maid for
ale, thanking all the gods that he had escaped with
his life. It was only when he offered his prayer to
Mitra that pain wracked his body as his guts twisted
and knotted within his stomach. Blood and bile spewed
forth as his head struck the table before him. Only
a moment passed before death claimed him, his body
rotting quickly from within as the tavern maid screamed
in horror.
Turning to address
the gathered cult members, Nkosi traced a finger around
the edge of the wooden cup, bringing a single drop
of the wine to her lips as she smiled. "Thus
endeth the lesson." And with that, the cult quietly
departed, leaving Nkosi alone with her thoughts and
an amused smile upon her alabaster face.
