FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The sun was already high in the sky when the little group finally caught sight of their objective. Deep inside a parched valley and surrounded on three sides by high crags stood the temple of Bel-Shanam, gigantically tall and ominously silent. Garrik held his breath for several heartbeats as he beheld the ancient edifice through a haze of heat. During his sojourn in the city the gnoll had seen many impressive buildings but this was different. The temple was monumental yet austere, its walls built from massive blocks of sand-colored stone that looked like they had stood for a thousand years and would stand for thousands more. From the distance Garrik could see no signs of ornaments save from two colossal statues that flanked a pair of bronze doors at the entrance. Unlike the city's fashionable palaces whose lavish exteriors loudly proclaimed the wealth of their inhabitants, the temple's outward appearance gave no hint as to what lurked inside.

Khuresh finally broke the silence. "Should we wait until nightfall and look for a way in?"

The big wolf sounded unconvinced by his own words. The area around the temple was flat barren land without any obstacles that could conceal their advance, and apart from the main entrance the smooth walls revealed no trace of windows or secondary openings.

Mahresh shook his head. "No chance of that. We will have to talk our way through these doors."

As they approached the gates, the features of the statues became more defined. One was a ram with long curved horns and the other was a tall-eared jackal. They were of an archaic style, their solid bodies well-chiseled but also aloof and stiff-looking. Both statues were male and stood naked, save for a carved girdle around their waists and a broad collar around their necks. Their blank, emotionless eyes stared at the distance, as if the travelers were unworthy of their divine attention. The mid-day heat was scorching but Garrik shivered as he walked past the stone giants, feeling like a pitiful bug about to be squished.

Wide flagstone steps led to a landing in front of the bronze gates. Time and the elements had covered the metal with a blue-green patina but the doors looked as solid as ever, and the men could see no handle or visible means of pulling them open. Mahresh stepped forward and raised a clenched fist when the doors suddenly opened inwards with a loud rumble.

A gust of chill air blew from within the temple, carrying with it a faint musty smell which made all five men recoil. Garrik moved to place himself between Mèlu and the entrance but the fox had already grabbed Mahresh's arm and pressed himself against the captain's side. The frail canine looked like he was having second thoughts about their plan of infiltrating the temple. Even Lanu appeared to have lost his usual cockiness.

"Well, this part was easy at least!" Mahresh said with a laugh that was a bit too loud. "Now let's get in. I promise we'll be rich by the time we leave!" he added as he stepped into the darkness.

Garrik and the rest of the band shook off their unease and followed him.

They ventured into the darkness, and soon their eyes adjusted from the shrill brightness of the desert sun to the reddish dusk of ember filled braziers. In front of them rose a black stairway wide enough for all of them to walk abreast, its steps worn down and smoothed by the passage of time. It was hemmed in by walls rising up to unseen heights above, creating a stark, oppressive sensation of entering into a giant's abode. On both sides were statues of rams and jackals hewn from the rock, but this time depicted in a kneeling position and in various stages of asphyxiation. Their eyes were rolled back and their mouths silently gasped for air, their curled fingers holding on to a collar biting deep into their stony flesh, each statue showing a unique death mask of agony and ecstasy. All of them were fully erect, and someone had seen fitting, perhaps as a cruel joke, to suspend the braziers hanging overhead from their phalluses.

Suddenly the doors behind the group started to move on their own, and swung shut with a resounding clang. Garrik growled and crouched, his head flitting back and forth skittish like a trapped animal. "S-spirits?" he snarled with a mixture of anger and fear, brandishing his claws and fangs, seemingly having forgotten how to use the weapon hanging from his belt.

Mèlu touched his arm softly. "No, just a counterweight. A clever mechanism for sure, but still operated by the hands of mere mortals. You have nothing to fear." His voice had a calming effect and Garrik eased up a little, but still looked surly and ready to jump at shadows. Mahresh made an impatient gesture and started walking up the stairs. The others followed him, but Garrik could still feel his hackles rising and kept his shoulders hunched. He had no desire to cross paths with these counter wights!

As they walked they saw gradually more light pouring in from the doorway at the top of the stairs, and eventually the steps opened into a wide foyer. Its high ceiling was held up by immense pillars adorned with patterns of lapis lazuli and cinnabar, and its walls were decorated with a myriad of intricately painted murals. Despite its impressive construction they soon noticed signs of age and disrepair wherever they looked. The murals were cracked and faded, and the roof had partially collapsed so that the harsh glare of the sun shone in through dozens of places. Fine sand trickled in like dry snow across the beams of light, falling down gently and piling up in knee high dunes on the floor.

There was a sound that Garrik took for shifting sand at first, but then realized that it was something large slithering towards them. Behind a pillar emerged a giant from legends, sliding in view regally, slowly, trailing one of his hands on the pillar's rough surface. He had the lower body of a massive snake but the upper body of a person, covered in deep green scales. His head was fully reptilian, with a hood that resembled a cobra, and the unblinking stare of his golden eyes made Garrik feel oddly exposed. The creature had four arms, each moving independently and with alien grace, making sacred gestures almost absentmindedly as he passed across the hall. He wore robes of rich gold brocade, wrapped over his head and shoulders in layers, the fabric cascading down and flowing freely in a long train in his wake. Garrik was a tall gnoll, but even his eye level reached only the height of the creature's midriff.

Mahresh grasped the hilt of his sword but stayed his hand. "This cannot be real...a naga?" he muttered. Even he seemed intimidated, which made Garrik's heart sink.

More people emerged from their waiting places, monks in simple robes hiding their hands and faces, and rapidly outnumbered their group. Two percheron stallions hurried to flank the naga, wearing only collars and leather codpieces, their oiled bodies glistening with well defined muscles. They knelt and lifted their hands above their heads, so that the naga could rest his arms as he settled down into a coiled pose in front of the band of adventurers. The naga studied them with an impassive expression, stretching out the tense moment while his congregation watched silently, and then opened his arms.

"How fortunate is your arrival in its due time." His voice was surprisingly quiet, like the rustling of moths and the hiss of sand. His lips barely moved when he spoke. "If it pleases you, would you present us...the offering?"

The words made icy fingers clench around Garrik's heart, and when no one noticed he pressed his hand against Mèlu's back. The fox held himself frozen rigid, but he could feel some of the tension melting from his touch. "Nothing to fear," he whispered ever so quietly, without letting his gaze wander over to the smaller man.

"I am here to trade, not to make offerings," Mahresh replied, his voice sharp as a knife again, "I will not give you anything until I see the color of your gold."

The naga's eyes narrowed to two slits, then reopened wide. "Gold? A reward? Yes, you shall receive a reward..." Swatting his equine slaves aside, the snake-man uncoiled his mighty tail and slid with surprising agility towards the captain.

"Yes, a reward of great price..." the naga whispered as he circled round the wolf as though preparing to swallow him. With one one of his arms he grabbed the man's wrist and twisted it so that the palm was upwards. He then lifted the tip of his tail and shook it slightly until the gold circlet that adorned it fell into Mahresh's outstretched hand.

The ring was of solid gold, dulled by age but heavy-looking, so much that Mahresh's hand sank visibly when he received it. It was as large as a wristband and made of a thread of metal wrapped around itself, giving its surface a strange twisted appearance. Garrik craned his neck to get a better view of the piece and broke out into a cold sweat. The circlet represented a gigantic snake gripping a lithe jackal in its coils. The reptile's emerald eyes glinted with a cold, implacable light as its helpless prey slowly suffocated, eyes half-closed and swollen tongue lolling from his open mouth.

"This and so much more... But you must follow us first, and give us the boy," the naga hissed close to Mahresh's ear.

"The boy stays with us. We will wait outside while you bring us the gold," the captain responded. His tone was firm but he purposely averted his eyes from the priest while he fidgeted with the circlet.

"Outside?" the naga said, "No, there is death outside. Do you hear?"

Garrik perked his ears and shot his head up, straining to hear or sniff the mysterious threat the naga alluded to. But he could not perceive anything other than the soft, abrasive rustling of the sand-laden wind against the temple's walls. Then, with alarming speed, the sound grew stronger, the faint breeze turning into a fierce storm that howled through the cracks in the ceiling and tinted the air with eerie yellow tones.

The high priest moved his head inches from Mahresh's face, forcing the wolf to meet his reptilian gaze. "It would be a sin to let you go. You must stay with us, accept Bel-Shanam's hospitality."

The wolf locked his eyes with the naga's golden stare and his jaw tensed. The silent duel lasted for several long seconds before Mahresh let out a small whimper and flattened his ears.

"You are very wise..." the snake hissed. Then, seemingly losing all interest in the man, he shifted his attention to the small fox at Garrik's side.

"Aaaahhh, a precious gift, a bride for Bel-Shanam."

The gnoll flexed his muscles and bared his fangs as the naga slithered towards them. He was already eyeing the reptile's throat, where the scaly flesh looked soft and vulnerable, when he felt a strong hand lock around his wrist.

"Stop it lad, you'll get us all killed," Khuresh whispered between clenched teeth.

"What is this? Another gift?" the priest said, his hood flaring. His pale tongue flicked out of his mouth, licking the air in the direction of the gnoll. "No. It is altered, incomplete, unworthy of the divine," he shrugged before turning his head back towards Mèlu.

Garrik could only stand back and watch with excruciating, powerless agony as the monstrous snake towered over the fox and unclothed him, his four hands deftly untying the laces that held his garments together. More than ever he felt the missing male presence between his legs. A murmur issued from the assembled monks when the last piece of fabric was removed and Mèlu stood fully nude for everyone to admire.

"How magnificent, a regal offering," the naga hissed appreciatively. He coiled his tail so that Mèlu's head was level to his chest and very delicately laid two of his hands on the young male's shoulders. His tongue flicked out again and brushed against the fox's furry cheek while a third hand ran down his flank and ventured between his thighs. Mèlu trembled visibly as the priest fondled him, his small sack recoiling from the cold reptilian touch. Sensing his fear, the snake gently lifted the canine's chin with his finger and waved a series of intricate, undulating hand movements in front of his eyes. Slowly the fox relaxed until his gaze turned cloudy and his tail hung limply from his behind.

"Yes, a great honour will be bestowed upon you..." the naga concluded. Then, addressing the defeated wolf, he added: "You and the offering will follow me to my quarters. My acolytes will look after your servants."

The tone brooked no argument, and Mahresh simply nodded meekly, his eyes fixated on the sand-covered floor and his hand still clutching the snake ring.

They watched in stunned silence the naga slithering away with their friends, but when Garrik took a step to follow them, he was stopped by a pair of priests. They were two pudgy warthogs that looked similar enough to be brothers, dressed in the simple robes of their order.

"That's as far as you go," the elder of them said with a gruff tone. "We'll escort you to servants' quarters where you will be taken care of."

Khuresh was about to protest, but then hesitated and gathered his thoughts. He stepped up to speak with a very deferential tone and pleading gestures, which felt unsettling coming from him. "Our master is very dear to us. We do not require hospitality, but simply wish to wait for him outside his chambers."

The warthog snorted. "Your master is looked after by the lugal. Do not concern yourselves with him."

"Yea, you should worry about yourselves instead," the younger one said with a mocking tone and chortled.

The elder cuffed his ear. "Silence, you fool!" He then turned his attention back to the three and motioned angrily towards one of the doorways. "And you lot, don't question your betters. Move!"

Lanu and Garrik gave each other a worried glance, assessing wordlessly each others' readiness for action, but the commotion had attracted the attention of one of the piebald stallions who approached the group with unhurried confidence. He stopped behind the priests and crossed his arms, looking over them with an impassive, almost bored expression. Garrik noted that the stallion's biceps were as thick as his thighs, and his muscles were clearly delineated under his oiled skin. His mane was cropped short and his tail was braided into a tight bundle, but his body was built for power, not just show.

Khuresh made eye contact with the stallion and then nodded. "Lead the way," he said without looking at the priests. The elder warthog made an annoyed huff and trotted towards the doorway, and when Garrik and Lanu hesitated Khuresh nudged them to move along.

The doorway took them to a winding stairway that led them deeper into the bowels of the earth, with each turn the darkness encroaching closer and the rank, musty odor growing stronger. They stepped into a gloomy stone corridor lit by only a handful of torches sputtering with resin fire, where the warthog unlocked a heavy looking oak door and ushered them in. Inside was a cell with little comfort beyond wooden platforms chained to the wall for benches and straws scattered on the floor. At its other end was a window with heavy iron bars from where dreadful wails and chanting emanated.

When Garrik peeked through the window he couldn't help but recoil. He could see down into a vast cavernous space surrounded by giant golden statues, lit by the red glow of coal fires in braziers as big as cauldrons. At its center was a platform where a naked slave gazelle was hanging by his wrists from a golden pole, who was being savagely whipped by a red robed priest. Between the slashes from thorned whips other priests approached him to anoint their wicked looking implements with his blood, raising them high in the air for the approval of their idols before setting them aside waiting on an altar. Even though the slave was bleeding he was also fully erect, his slender cock pressing against the pillar, and as Garrik watched he climaxed, emptying his load on the golden surface where it was left to dribble down slowly. The whipping priest made a curt motion and the gazelle was cut down, collapsing immediately and was dragged out of sight carelessly like a carcass. A new slave was already being prepared to take his place, and he too, despite looking afraid, had a growing erection rising between his legs. Around them a procession of priests walked chanting around the braziers, tossing in incense and unidentifiable pieces of meat, and a sickly sweet smell trailed up heavy and heady to Garrik's nostrils. It was a sight clearly meant to demoralize prisoners, not guests.

Khuresh spun around and spoke with a sudden sense of urgency. "Listen, I have to talk to you in private, can we-"

"Shut it," the warthog said and backhanded his snout. He had to tiptoe to do that, but his demeanor showed no fear of the large wolf. "You'll wait here while your fate is being decided. A meal will be served shortly. You might just as well try to enjoy it."

"Yea, because it might be your last!" the younger warthog made an annoying laugh.

Khuresh balled his fists but the piebald stallion stepped up and laid his hand on his shoulder. He did not say anything or even make an expression with his face, but Garrik could swear that he patted Khuresh twice with the slightest of gestures, and the wolf stood down. "Okay," he said with a low voice and turned away, nodding to himself like a man coming to grips with his current reality.

Their jailors exited the room and shut the door, followed by a heavy clunk of the lock confirming that they were indeed prisoners.

"What was that about!" a scared looking Lanu hissed at Khuresh, but the older wolf was not interested in talking. He sat down in sullen silence while Lanu paced back and forth restlessly, testing first the door then the bars on the window but to no avail.

Garrik sat down on the floor and looked at Lanu. "Conserve your energy."

"What?" The younger wolf gestured angrily. "Can't you see what's happening? We have to escape!"

Garrik shrugged. "There's nothing we can do to change the situation now. We can only wait and hope for an opportunity."

"And what if one doesn't come?"

Garrik rested his hands on his belly and prepared to take a nap. "Then they'll probably kill us."

Lanu stared at him in disbelief, but when Garrik didn't continue he huffed and crouched down to sulk in the farthest corner from the window.

After a while there were sounds of unlocking and the door swung open. It was the younger warthog and the stallion, carrying water jugs and loaves of bread. The warthog stayed at the doorway to watch while the stallion entered and started to hand out a meal to the prisoners. This time he had left his codpiece behind, and as he walked Garrik watched his impressive malehood jiggle along his heavy, thudding steps. His sheath was thick and meaty with a little tuft of pubic hair joining it to his lower abdomen, and his coconut sized balls shone dully in the dim light as they swayed between his legs. Garrik could smell his musk when he stopped by him, and he couldn't resist staring at the goods hanging at his eye level with a certain degree of envy. The stallion did not seem to mind being ogled at, and continued his rounds without a comment.

He stopped in front of Khuresh so that his back blocked the warthog's line of sight, and made eye contact with the wolf. Khuresh frowned and looked puzzled, but the stallion glanced down at his crotch and made a little nod. Uncertain, Khuresh touched the stallion's sheath and slid two fingers under the loose flesh. Suddenly his expression changed and he pulled back, closing his fist quickly, but the stallion simply turned away and returned to the warthog who was tapping his foot impatiently. "Took your time!" he said and shut the door with a slam, and then all the prisoners could hear was the sound of their receding footsteps.

Curiosity had already driven Lanu and Garrik to stand up, and as they watched Khuresh opened his hand. On his palm laid a black iron key.

"Let's use it!" Lanu said with a hurried whisper, but Khuresh shook his head.

"Not yet. We'll wait." He got up and pressed his ear against the door, straining to hear voices across the thick wood. Lanu was about to say something but he hissed sharply at him, and the young wolf sat down chastised.

The minutes that passed felt longer than ever, but eventually Khuresh straightened up and spoke with a terse voice. "We move. Be silent."

He slid in the key and turned it ever so slowly, each click sounding like a church bell in the silence, but when it stopped the door creaked ajar without resistance. Khuresh opened it quietly and peeked in the corridor, then gestured to others to follow him.

At the other end of the corridor, not more than twenty steps away from them, was a guard room. The piebald stallion was there, leaning against the wall and holding his tail up perkily, his half erect cock hanging low down to his knees. The younger warthog had his face buried between his round, muscular buttocks, eating out his puffy asshole like a glutton and making snorting, muffled moans. He was completely oblivious as he was huffing in the stallion's thick musk and worshipping his squishy donut, his erection poking through his robes and squirting precum on the stallion's fetlocks. The stallion looked over his shoulder lazily and stared directly at the escaping prisoners with half lidded eyes, then turned his head away and reached behind himself to pull in the warthog's face deeper in his ass.

Khuresh nodded towards the stairway and the prisoners hurried up as silently as they could. They reached the entrance hall without meeting anyone, and under a brief observation it seemed to be deserted.

"That's it, we're getting out of here," Khuresh said with an air of finality, but Lanu grabbed his wrist and did not let go even when he tried to shake himself free.

Instead the young wolf tightened his grip. "What in all the hells just happened there?" His yellow eyes flared up and there was genuine anger in his voice. When Khuresh did not reply his voice turned into a growl. "I said what. Is. Going. ON!?"

"Are you fucking blind? We're saving our skins, that is what is going on," Khuresh growled back, his patience thinning with each word.

"You know very well what I mean!" Lanu exploded, "Who was that horse, and why did he let us escape?"

"There is no time for that. They could be upon us any moment," Khuresh barked. He grabbed the young man's forearm and yanked himself free with a violence that neither his companions expected. Stunned, Lanu took a step back and rubbed his painful wrist. As if coming to his senses, Khuresh mellowed his expression a bit.

"This is not the first time I have come here, although in the past I was never allowed inside the temple," he began. "The cult is always looking for suitable... subjects for their ceremonies, and they usually pay very well."

Garrik shivered as pictures of the bloodied, frightened gazelle slave flashed before his eyes. The fact that the cultists had a never-ending need for new offerings left little doubt about the fate that awaited these poor souls.

"Several years ago me and our previous captain escorted a group of captives through the desert," Khuresh continued, "These two stallions were among them, they were brothers we took from a farm during a raid. During the journey one of them fell sick, and the captain wanted to leave him to his fate so as to not slow us down. I saved his life by helping his brother carry him. He never said a word at the time, but I recognised him and he recognised me. Now he's saving our lives."

There was a short pause after the wolf concluded his story. Garrik glanced at Khuresh, then at Lanu, trying to gauge how much of the tale the young man believed.

"But what about Mahresh? Are we not going to free him?" Lanu finally said.

The grizzled wolf studied his companion for a moment, as if looking for the right words, then he shook his head negatively. "I am big and I've been in more than a few scraps in my days, but I know when to back down. We cannot face this... thing."

"So we're abandoning him? And Mèlu too?" Garrik interjected, his eyes wide with shock.

"Why throw away our lives for nothing?" Khuresh shot back, anger creeping back in his voice. "I've been at his side since before you two were born, and he's more than a boss to me, but I know it's the right choice, and he'd do the same if he were me."

More pictures and sounds formed in Garrik's mind. His brain was assailed by horrible visions of Mèlu being scourged until his soft fur was soaked with blood, of hideous rites in which the fox was laid on a dark altar and desecrated by the reptilian monster who held him captive. The thoughts caused him pangs of pains as if his own flesh was being seared and sliced. He would gladly sacrifice what was left of his manhood, even his own life, to save Mèlu from these torments.

"Lanu!" he pleaded, turning towards the younger of the two wolves, "We can't leave them behind, think of what the crew would say." The wolf vacillated, torn between his desire to run and his youthful sense of honour and pride. "If we go back without the captain, and without any gold, everybody will shun us. They'll think we were cowards..." he began hesitantly.

"Stop this nonsense," Khuresh interrupted. "And you," he said, pointing to Garrik, "Get yourself killed if you want, but don't drag the kid with you."

"I think you're not telling us everything," Garrik spat back. "Perhaps you're tired of being second-in-command. Perhaps you don't want the captain to come back..."

He had barely finished his sentence when Khuresh charged him and pinned him against a stone pillar. "How dare you," he growled as he grabbed the gnoll's throat with a scowl of rage. "Don't forget who and what you are. One word from me and you're back to sucking dick in the ship's hold."

Garrik struggled to free himself from the grip but his strength was no match for the burly wolf. Unable to utter a word, he tried to silently ask Lanu for help but the young man seemed paralyzed, as if unable to understand the change that had come over his companion. "Khuresh, are you mad?" Lanu finally managed to utter with great effort.

"You play the hero but I know you only care about that fox fucktoy," Khuresh snarled to Garrik, "Let me you in on a secret: he doesn't crave that limp cock of yours." With that, his big paw-like hand groped the other man's crotch and ripped the front of his pants open, exposing Garrik's fat, dark-skinned member and the smooth, gelded patch of skin where his sack should have been. His point made, the wolf tossed the gnoll to the ground.

"Enough time wasted, that fool can stay here but we're out," he said to Lanu.

"Cowards, run away if you want but I'm not leaving without Mèlu," Garrik muttered as he tucked his cock back into his ruined pants and wiped tears of rage from her eyes. Without a word more he ran back to the stairway.

Garrik slipped into the uneasy darkness of the stairway, accompanied only by the wailing of the sandstorm that made the ancient walls shudder and groan. Alone with his purpose, he felt a sudden calm as habits of a lifetime long abandoned awakened in him and guided his steps. Despite all the abuse he had suffered, and the diminished form of his once athletic body, he was still a hunter born and bred, taught to stalk from the day he had learned to walk upright. He had taken down every manner of prey, both two and four legged varieties, and as he ascended the stairs he willed his body to resume that effortless predator's gait that he thought he had lost for ever.

The scent of myrrh and amber alerted him that he was approaching the chambers of the higher ups, and as he cleared a turn of the stairway he saw a vestibule with richly decorated wall hangings and doorways to all directions. The one on the opposite side was the grandest one, and had an attendant's desk waiting by its side. For now there was no one behind it, but on it someone had left a cup of tea still hot enough for wisps of vapor to trail from it. Garrik hastened his steps across the room before the attendant would return, swearing to himself that if he was seen now, then he would not defend himself but rush forward trying to wound the head priest as badly as he could before getting killed.

The hall he entered was sectioned into smaller spaces by curtains hanging high from the ceiling, with oil lamps and incense wafting censers interspersed between them. Even here the purple cloth and gold brocade was faded and frayed like hand-me-downs from a pensioner's linen closet. Garrik slipped silently from one cloth walled cubicle to the next witnessing works of art both grotesque and priceless, statues depicting the martyrdom of long forgotten saints and macabre reliquaries made from the mummified remains of long perished priests, all carved from exquisite marble and ebonwood and decorated with gold and precious stones.

Garrik heard a low voice and he stopped to peek between curtains holding his breath, and his heart jumped when saw the high priest alone with Mèlu and Mahresh. The fennec was kneeling in a circle of incense holders, the billowing clouds of balsam and cinnamon wood washing over his body and seemingly keeping him in his trance-like state. He was naked except for dozens of gold bangles on his arms and legs, and stacks of fine gold necklaces that drooped all the way down to his crotch. Intricate henna patterns were drawn on his fur, in the shape of a filigree mask on his face, and religious symbols on his chest.

On the other side the high priest was lounging on a divan with the captain kneeling by his side, naked and meekly lapping at a slit at the base of the naga's tail. From it protruded two monstrous erections, each thick and purple and as long as Garrik's forearm, their entire glistening lengths bumpy and ridged but tapering to a fine point. Each had a golden band at its base and a metal rod inserted in the urethral opening, connected by a thin gold chain with tiny bells hanging from it, tingling softly whenever the priest shifted his body.

The priest planted his large hand on Mahresh's face and pushed him aside effortlessly. "Not so eagerly," he hissed with his ghost whisper of a voice. "Your friend will be sacrificed to our god, and the method of his execution will be my manhood. Your reason for living is to keep edging me, not ruining our celebration!" The wolf cowered and kept his gaze down, his ears flat in submission, and after a moment the high priest gestured towards his crotch. "You may continue." Mahresh hesitated, but then stuck out his tongue and returned gingerly to pleasing the monstrous phalluses again.

The hair at the back of Garrik's neck stood on end and his lips curled back to reveal glistening teeth. He would kill this loathsome snake. Then he'd escape with Mèlu or die trying.

The gnoll braced to lunge on his target when the furtive, barely-audible pad of a foot awoke his instincts and made him crouch down. A whoosh cut the air above his head and a huge gash appeared in the curtain, right where his neck was a fraction of a second before.

"Curse you!" the swordsman roared and raised his scimitar. He was a panther, lithe and supple but with sinewy muscles under his dark golden skin. This must be the man whose desk he had seen when he entered the hall, Garrik thought in a flash as he dodged another swipe.

"Sacrilege! How dare you interrupt this divine experiment?" The naga soared from the divan and swept aside the hapless wolf. His ophidian eyes burned with anger while his erect penises jutted out, dripping like two fangs. "Kill him," he spat venomously.

"I'll slice you bit by bit. Too bad you won't be alive to attend the ceremony..." the panther grinned. The swordsman circled around Garrik and delivered a series of light strikes and swings that left him bleeding from a half-dozen superficial gashes. Like a cat playing with its prey, the man seemed in no hurry to deliver a killing blow, but he kept feinting and tricking until he had the gnoll cornered against the desk. Garrik fumbled, his hands groping for anything to use as a shield or weapon, when his fingers brushed something solid and very hot. In a heartbeat he flung the teacup and its scalding contents through the air to hit the feline in the face!

The man cried out in pain and stumbled backwards, his hand frantically wiping the hot tea from his eyes. Garrik lunged at him but the panther delivered a half-blind stroke that the gnoll barely dodged. The blade hissed past Garrik's ears, smashed a low-hanging lamp and sent burning oil raining down on the cloth that draped the walls. Within seconds a roaring blaze had begun to devour the gold-embroidered curtains and bone-dry relics.

"You fools!" hissed the priest as he recoiled from the flames that now separated him from the two men.

Garrik did not give the stumbling panther time to come to his senses. With a deep-throated howl he crashed into the feline and wrestled him to the floor, sending the scimitar clanking out of reach. The men rolled around the rapidly-spreading flames like demons, both trying to bite or claw the other. From the corner of his eye Garrik glimpsed something that made his heart jump: a hidden door had opened in the wall behind the priest, and the naga was driving his prisoner into the dark opening. "Mèlu!" yelled Garrik, but at that moment the panther drew a dagger from the folds of his robe and brought it down fiercely towards the gnoll's neck. Garrik twisted his body, and the blade missed his flesh by a hair's width.

A burst of uncontrollable rage filled Garrik's heart as the door closed behind the priest and Mèlu. Before the cultist could raise his dagger again the gnoll lurched forward and closed his jaws around the feline's wrist. The panther let out a piercing cry as teeth crushed bones and flesh but Garrik did not let go, instead thrashing and savaging the man until he had managed to roll on top of him. With blood dripping from his jaws the hyena-man wrapped his hands around the panther's throat and pressed hard, not releasing his hold until well after the cat's panicked eyes had turned glassy and his body limp.

"Mèlu!" Garrik cried out again as he rose up, leaving the cat's lifeless form at his feet. The entire hall was filled with fire and heat, the priceless tapestries and furniture burning like tinder, but somehow the exhausted gnoll managed to stumble to the place where the priest had vanished. It was in vain: the blank, smooth wall refused to yield its secrets and Garrik was left pounding the stone in fury until his strength deserted him and he collapsed on his knees, his eyes red and his lungs raw from the smoke. "Mèlu..." he rasped, his anger turning to sad resignation.

He was about to close his eyes for good when a hand grabbed his shoulder and half led, half dragged him away from the inferno. Blinded and manhandled Garrik went along without resisting, his smoke-stung eyes watering and his fire-singed fur making an acrid stench. He was suddenly pushed through a doorway with a rough shove, making him stumble and scrape his hands and knees on the hard stone floor, but the person leading him hissed at him with an alarmed voice. "Be quiet! They're coming."

There was a change in lighting when the door was shut, and then he could hear shouting and the sound of running feet passing by. As he gathered his wits in the darkness he started to make out the shape of the room. He was in a sparsely furnished cell of some monastic acolyte, and at the doorway he saw Lanu with his back turned at him. The young wolf was holding the door ajar just enough to peek into the corridor, tensed up and holding his breath, but after a while he relaxed.

"Looks like they're gone for now," he whispered and then looked over his shoulder at Garrik. "Are you alright?" He sounded genuinely worried for him.

Garrik had a coughing fit and spat out smoke phlegm. "I'm alright enough," he muttered. He had not been alright in years.

"What about Mahresh?" Lanu paced around the room, and opened a trunk at the foot of a bed and started rummaging inside.

"Lost him in the blaze." Garrik shook his head. "They took Mèlu to be sacrificed. Couldn't stop them in time." He could feel a lump rising in his chest again, heavy with bitter regret.

"Then we have to move fast." Lanu pulled out a pair of robes from the trunk and tossed one to Garrik. "Put that on."

Garrik held on to the robe, feeling lost and confused. "What about Khuresh?"

"What of him? Fuck that limp dicked coward!" Lanu pulled the robe over his head angrily and adjusted it. His broad chest made it tight around shoulders and its sleeves were a bit too short, but when he lifted up the hood it hid his face making him unrecognizable. "I can imitate how a priest acts and talks. I can fake our way in."

Garrik gave him a puzzled look. He could recognize the kind of nervous energy a man gets when he is tired of dreading his fate and just wants to get it over with. "You're afraid of losing your nerve," he said with a wary tone.

"My nerves are my own business, okay?" Lanu slapped his fist against the palm of his hand as he paced back and forth. "We just need to get in and out quickly, and it'll turn out fine. Right?"

Garrik donned the robe quietly. Suddenly having hope again in such a short order hurt almost as much as his recent loss. His grief started giving way to growing anxiety, with visions swirling in front of his mind's eye of being just a moment too late to save Mèlu. He lifted his own hood to obscure his face. "You're helping me despite being afraid. That makes you brave."

Lanu grimaced. "Brave, or a fool. Come on, let's get moving before I come to my senses." He cracked the door open, took a quick glance around in the corridor, and then gestured for Garrik to follow him.

The smell of smoke was starting to become ever more pervasive as they hurried through the temple's corridors, and they could hear confused shouting over the crackle of fire and crashing timber nearby. A group of slaves ran past them carrying whatever water they had managed to get a hold on, and at the entrance to the high priest's chambers they ran across a group of priests milling about, hesitating between braving the flames and letting the priceless treasures be consumed in front of their eyes. Lanu gestured to them that he was going to get more help, and before anyone could question him and Garrik they ducked into the stairwell and hurried down the spiraling steps.

The winding steps took them ever deeper down into the bowels of the temple, and their descent offered them glimpses into sights both dreadful and wondrous as they passed doorway after doorway. They saw galleries opening over yawning crevasses where pinpoints of distant lights flickered within the pitch black depths. They saw a library where an entire wall was covered by a crumbling mural, depicting continents far older than the current world had ever known. They saw holding pens and torture chambers reserved for those seeking strange pleasures and grisly ends. Everywhere they saw untold riches heaped haphazardly in nooks and crannies, jewelry and antiques fit for the court of a king but coated in the dust and grime of centuries, never having been touched after being left to moulder in darkness. No one rose to challenge them as they hurried past the eerily abandoned halls, and when the scent of incense and blood grew to almost overpowering they knew that they had reached their destination.

A droning chant reverberating from ahead accompanied them on the last few turns of the stairway, and then the path opened into that vast, cavernous hall they had witnessed earlier. Lanu was about to step out into a colonnade of massive pillars bathed in the red glow of brazier fires, but Garrik pulled him back and whispered to him. "Watch out. There's guards ahead."

He pointed at two large figures dressed from head to toe in stylized armor standing by the doorway that Lanu had mistook for statues at first. They stood impassive and still, the light glinting from the black metal making them look as if they were carved from obsidian, but as Lanu watched he saw one of them shift their weight from one foot to another. "What do we do now?" Garrik asked him, his grip on Lanu's shoulder tightening unwittingly.

"They have seen us, we can't turn back now," the wolf whispered back, and indeed one of the guards turned his helmeted head towards the newcomers. Both men wore ceremonial masks in the shape of a sacred jackal and ram that concealed their features, and it was impossible to tell if the two monks had aroused their suspicions. Lanu took a deep breath, tucked his hands inside his sleeves and stepped forward, slipping out of Garrik's grasp and forcing the gnoll to follow him despite his misgivings.

As they approached, the two guards crossed their bronze spears to block their way, and Lanu and Garrik stopped, unsure what to do. An uneasy silence lasted several seconds before the guard with a jackal mask spoke.

"Barag-te gurun-la?" the unmoving lips uttered.

"Lugal urim ki-ma," came the unhesitant reply from the young wolf.

The guard stared at Lanu from behind his mask but then something in his posture relaxed ever so slightly and he turned towards Garrik.

"Kug-ga i-nin?" he asked.

Garrik felt his heartbeat accelerate inside his chest. He looked at the inscrutable face and then at Lanu in quick succession, his brain racing for something to get him out of this mess. Lanu looked at him and without warning cuffed him behind the ear like an ill-behaved pet.

"Temen-bi abzu sag-kul," he told the guards, and the men burst out in laughter before waving them through the doorway.

"I am sorry, I had to tell them you were simple-minded and mute," the wolf said when they were safely out of earshot.

"No offense taken," Garrik grumbled, rubbing his stinging ear as he walked, "But how could you understand them?"

"My parents... wanted me to join the priesthood," Lanu replied without looking, "I had to learn the ancient sacred language."

Garrik was about to ask how a young man with a classical education ended up on a pirate ship but the scene that unfolded before his eyes as they left the forest of colonnades caused the question to die in his throat.

Inside the massive chamber a long line of robed cultists swayed rhythmically and sang a strange mindless chant. In front of them a flight of broad stone steps led to a platform on which stood a dark altar, and on that altar lay the slim form of a male otter, nude save for golden jewelry around his ankles and wrists. He seemed lost in a trance-like state, and his pale, white belly gleamed luridly in the dancing light of four braziers at the corners of the platform. But what gripped Garrik's horrified gaze was neither the crowd of fiendish worshippers nor their defenseless victim. Behind the lithe otter stood the gigantic statue of a primordial snake-god, its hideous jaw open as if to swallow the offered sacrifice whole. Its eyes glowed with an evil, eerie life-like red and Garrik realized that they were made of two massive rubies set deep inside stone orbits.

"This isn't Mèlu," Garrik whispered to his companion in a tone that was both relieved and agitated, "Where is he?"

"They must be keeping him for the end of the ceremony," Lanu replied under his breath, "Bel-Shanam must first be summoned by a lesser sacrifice."

Keeping to the shadows, the pair observed two shapes rise behind the altar where the otter lay. One was a ram priest in long flowing robes, with a tall headpiece shaped like a tower crowned with writhing snakes. The other was a male lion, stark naked save for a feline mask that hid his features. The droning chant of the cultists sank and died as the two men positioned themselves by the altar and the priest began a long prayer in the same ancient tongue that the guards had used. The otter squirmed and trembled but did not offer resistance as the lion gripped his ankles and lifted one leg then the other so that they rested on his shoulders. A pink, barbed erection already protruded from the lion's sheath, reaching its apex just as the priest concluded his prayer with a supplication in the common tongue.

"Bel-Shanam, please accept the humble offering that this worshiper is about to send you today, and may you grant him the wealth and power that he craves!"

The echo of the words had barely died when the lion buried himself inside the otter with a savage thrust that drew a sharp yip from the smaller male. The chant of the cultists rose anew, more powerful than ever as the lion groaned and plunged again and again in the tight asshole until he threw back his head and let out a feral roar, pulling out at the last second and anointing the otter's lithe body with his seed. Then there was an ominous silence, the ragged breathing of the exhausted, cum-splattered otter the only audible sound. His arms and legs hung limp from the sides of the altar but he now sported a thin, pencil-like erection of his own that rose over his crotch like a fleshy sundial.

With slow, solemn movements, the lion presented his dripping manhood to the priest and to the gigantic idol, as if to prove to the god that the deed had been done. The priest acknowledged him with a slight nod and turned his attention back to the helpless otter.

The otter was too weak to resist when the priest slipped a rough cord around his neck. It was pulled so taut that it cut into his skin, contorting his face into an expression of choked surprise. He clawed feebly at the cord cutting his life short, but his drugged body was too sluggish to mount any real fight. His sluggish motions turned into a languid, almost erotic undulations reminiscent of a belly dancer as he arched his back and scrabbled with his feet, his chest heaving and his muscles straining as he burned with an intense need to breathe. The priest held on firmly, with an impassive look on his face as he watched the otter's worsening asphyxiation. Eventually the otter shuddered and climaxed, greeting his demise with a massive, final orgasm that launched several jets of thick semen on his sweat slickened stomach. His eyes rolled back into his head and his body became slack, but the priest kept strangling him unflinchingly for several more minutes until it was certain that the brain damage he had caused would guarantee death.

Only then the priest let go of his victim. He flexed his hands unhurriedly, the red welts across his palms where he had wrapped the cord clearly visible, and studied the patterns of rapidly cooling cum on the otter's glistening fur before turning to address the congregation. He stepped behind the masked lion and laid his hands on his shoulders.

"Our lord smiles upon this supplicant. Let it be known that Bel-Shanam has bestowed the wealth and fortune he seeks to him! Rejoice for his good luck. Praise be!"

The lion roared again and lifted his fists in the air triumphantly, and the worshippers cheered him on by ringing brass bells and gongs in a cacophonous peal of noise. He stepped down from the altar and the crowd melted away in front of him as he walked with a strong, purposeful stride. A lioness pushed her way through between the bodies, dressed in elegant silk scarfs and wearing a feline mask, and flung herself to hug him tightly like a damsel her hero. The lion rumbled in pleasure and took her under his arm, squeezing her waistline and then copped a feel of her buttocks with a hungry grip, which made her squeal with laughter and nuzzle his side affectionately. She was followed by a pair of servants who hurried to drape an expensive cloak on his shoulders, and with his modesty thus preserved the couple continued to a stand by the side of the altar where other masked guests were already seated. Behind them the otter's lifeless body was unceremoniously pushed off the altar and dragged behind the pillars where other discarded bodies had already started to pile up.

"That's a nobleman from the city," Garrik pointed, "and that's his wife."

"How would you know that?" Lanu looked uncertain, but also too shaken to be surprised by anything he could tell him.

"I recognize their bodies. They visited the brothel I was held in. He liked me to watch them mate."

Lanu just shook his head in disbelief. "Let's just get in position. We need to be ready to act when they bring in Mèlu."

Garrik nodded. "Behind the statue." It was the only place near the altar that provided any cover, and they both knew it.

The cruel rites were beginning again as a young gazelle slave was half walked, half dragged up the stairs, kneeling down meekly on the altar despite the fear glinting in his big, beautiful eyes. With the cultists distracted by their lust for the next spectacle the duo made their way between the pillars and circled back unnoticed, walking in the shadows until they were at the base of the enormous statue. Garrik leaned against its coarse surface and inched forward to peek around it, but suddenly his fingers touched metal instead of stone.

"What's this?" he whispered, but saw that Lanu had also made the same discovery.

"I think that it's... a hatch? Wait." Before Garrik could reply he heard a rusty snap, then the creak of iron hinges being forced. "A-ha! It's hollow inside!" Lanu spoke with an excited voice.

Genuine anger welled up in Garrik's mind. "Stop playing around," he hissed, "you're making noise." Undisciplined like a pup, he thought to himself.

"No, no, this is great. I think I can see the statue's mouth from here. I'm going to climb inside, get ready to act."

"What? No, don't be stupid!" He growled and turned back, but Lanu did not reply to him anymore. He could hear the sound of claws scraping against stone, and then just felt the empty sensation of standing alone in the darkness. The young wolf had left his presence.

For a moment Garrik considered following after Lanu and forcibly dragging him out of his hidey-hole, but any commotion would have surely attracted the attention of the cultists. The hyena-man could only wait and pray that the foolish wolf would come to his senses before Mèlu was brought to be sacrificed.

Another burst of ominous singing brought his attention back to the center of the chamber, where the gazelle was now laying on the cold stone. Upon a sign from the priest a cheetah rose from among the seated guests. The spotted feline ascended the steps with long graceful strides, discarding his robe as he walked and revealing a lithe yet athletic body. The cheetah prowled around the altar like a cat savoring its prey's fear, his tail swishing and tapping the trembling slave's leg playfully. But instead of pouncing, he climbed on the altar, lay his body on top of the gazelle's and began to kiss and lick him tenderly. The gazelle's eyes darted left and right in fear and incomprehension, but as no harm came to him he slowly relaxed under the raspy caress of the cheetah's tongue. Then the feline began to lick and nibble as his neck and the grass-eater became nervous again.

Garrik shut his eyes, unable to watch. A shrill cry of pain and anguish followed by a gargle confirmed his fears, and when he dared look again the cheetah was licking his lips and the lifeless gazelle was staring at the dark ceiling with horror-frozen eyes. The gnoll clenched his fists until blood dripped from his palms as the mental image of his friend superimposed itself on the slave's dead body. "I will save you, Mèlu," he muttered under his breath as the slave was dragged from the altar and yet another took his place, "I will die rather than let them hurt you."

At last silence fell on the cavernous hall and a soft rustling sound announced the coming of the naga. The snake-priest emerged from the shadows in a cloud of smoke from the incense-filled censers that swung from his lower arms. Garrik stood frozen and helpless as he saw the tiny form of Mèlu in the monster's upper arms, the naga holding him against his chest like a precious and beautiful treasure. Dozens of pairs of eyes watched devoutly, or perhaps with envy, as the cold-blooded priest ascended the steps and with great care placed the fox on the altar for the crowd to admire and worship. Their perverted and unholy chant soared again until the very floor seemed to vibrate under Garrik's naked feet.

With long, flowing motions the naga blessed Mèlu and untied the knots that held his priestly robes in place. Standing on his coiled tail he presented his naked belly to the trance-stricken fox. Slowly, the slit at the base of his stomach opened and from it emerged the engorged, bifurcated manhood like an exotic blood-red orchid. When at last the twin lengths attained their full size they were as big as Mèlu, but far from being afraid the small canid seemed enraptured by the sight. With his tongue lolling from his open mouth and his eyes closed he wrapped his arms around both the naga's penises and pressed them amorously against his chest, his face nudged tightly between their reptilian cockheads.

"Yesss..." The naga hissed softly, "It is but a small foretaste of the delights that await you in Bel-Shanam's embrace..."

A clear liquid began to ooze from the snake-man's tips. It dripped down the erect shafts and onto Mèlu's fur, down his face, neck and stomach, all the way to his crotch and thighs. The fox's features took an air of absolute ecstasy as he was drenched in the gooey fluid, and he kissed and licked the source as if he was afraid to let the sacred ointment go to waste. For the first time Garrik noticed that his friend was erect too. Mèlu's pink, diminutive cock was as hard as he had ever seen it, and to Garrik's mute horror the fox rose to his knees and with a lascivious sigh he tucked his member between the monster's penises and began to grind and thrust.

"See how eagerly he yearns for his own demise," the naga petted Mèlu behind his ears in a grotesque mockery of affection. "He knows that his life is worthless compared to the glory of lord Bel-Shanam. Should you feel even a passing glance from Him is an unimaginable honor, and should your death amuse Him even for the briefest of moments is well worth your life." He grasped the fox's ear roughly and pulled his head back from his cocks. "The pleasure you feel as you perish shall be...exquisite," he hissed, "and as your lungs drown in my cum the only thing in your head is my manhood!"

Mèlu whimpered as a shudder went through his body, but it was caused by lust, not fear. His mind was still under that thrall of hypnotic suggestion, and as the naga let go of him he returned to breathe in the heady musk of the naga's precum. He hugged the monstrous phalluses tightly, caressing them despite knowing how they would soon impale his slender body, and slid his own raging erection between the slick poles. A bead of clear fluid seeped out of his cock tip and rolled down along the naga's shafts as he grinded against them, his fur matted with the naga's mating fluids, moaning and panting while the naga looked down with a cold, cruel smile and spread his arms to address the congregation.

"I beseech you, lord Bel-Shanam! Witness this sacrifice in your honor, of a youth taken in his prime, supple of body and elegant of gesture, bred from the stock most rarefied!" The naga looked down with smug satisfaction, grasping each of Mèlu's limbs and lifting him into the air for everyone to see. The fox did not struggle when he was spread out and pinned hovering above the naga's leaking, throbbing cocks.

But then the god replied.

"Enough!" Thundered a booming voice from the snake idol's gaping maw. The entire throng of cultists gathered around the altar froze in place, the sheer shock stopping them in their tracks. Even the naga looked surprised, and he let Mèlu slip from his grasp like a forgotten toy.

"False prophet! Usurper!" the statue continued, "For long have I watched as thee abuse thy position for thy own gain, take for thyself what rightfully belongs to me, pervert my rituals for thy own designs. My patience wears thin and the mountain rattles its roots!"

The naga swivelled around angrily, and saw that his followers had thrown themselves to the floor, cowering and shielding their faces in terror. "You fools," he hissed at the congregation, "can't you see that it's a trick! Someone wants to disrupt our ritual!"

When no one dared to lift their gaze the naga gestured at the long robed executioner priest to check behind the statue, but even as he hurried away the statue made another booming declaration. "Have thee forgotten that I am a wrathful god, that I am a vengeful god, that my ire makes even the mountains tremble? On this holiest of days I shall cast thee down, I shall lay my wrath on thee, I shall name thee an anathema!"

A wailing moan of despair rose from the crowd as the cultists proclaimed their innocence, dragging themselves on their knees claiming that they had been misled and begged for forgiveness, all the while the naga cursed at them and exhorted them to stand up but to no avail. The nobles watching from the side started to get restless, not certain if this was part of the show or not, and started gathering up their things ready to leave.

When Garrik saw the long-robed priest approaching he pulled his body close to the statue and held still. The priest was a well built ram, and he had seen him perform his grisly work mere moments ago, so he knew he had only one chance to surprise him. The priest peered around the statue's curving side, and Garrik willed himself as invisible as possible, still as stone and melding to the shadows. The light pouring behind the priest made it hard for him to see anything and he squinted his eyes, leaning further in until his center of mass tiptoed dangerously close to toppling over.

Garrik burst into action like a wound up coil, grabbing the ram by the front of his robes and pulled him into a hard punch from his fist. The ram stumbled onto his knees, and in a single, continuous line of movement Garrik snatched the metal snake crown he was wearing and smacked him squarely between the eyes with it.

"Wait-" the ram bleated and tried to shield himself, but Garrik kept landing blow after blow on him, hammering his face methodically with the heavy iron crown until he felt the priest go slack in his grip. Only then he tossed aside the blood warm crown and crouched to peek around the statue to see what was happening. Whatever noise their struggle had caused was drowned out by the pandemonium going on at the front, so Garrik pushed the priest's body into the pile of dead slaves where no one would come looking for it.

Once again the statue boomed. "Hear my judgment! Heed my command, o faithful! Do not let this foul serpent draw breath, for his lies are poison! Cast him aside, dash him on the rocks, drown him in his blood! Whosoever lands the killing blow that stops his wicked heart shall be my new chosen one. I have spoken!"

There was a sudden silence as everyone stood stunned, eyes shifting from one neighbor to another trying to gauge if they had really witnessed the same thing. Then, there was a shrill warble and a goat erupted from the crowd, clutching his robes in one hand and brandishing a curved dagger in another, and lunged himself up the stairs to get at the naga. The enormous snake made a primal, furious hiss and twisted his body with frightful speed, slapping the goat with a single, sinuous movement of his tail and sent him flying like a ragdoll.

All hell broke loose.

Garrik watched the cultists fall into disarray. Some climbed the steps to circle around the furiously spitting and hissing naga, while others tried to stop them by clinging to their clothes and trying to reason with them. There were some who stood where they were praying and crying, helpless to stop their world falling apart in front of their eyes, and others who wanted to flee, or perhaps to call for reinforcements, but they got stuck in a congested mob at the doorway.

Suddenly the naga's stallion bodyguards descended upon the mob, each a half ton of horse flesh plowing into the mass of people and dealing blows left and right with little care who was in their way as they fought to reach their master. Their eyes had rolled up to terrifying whites and their nostrils flared as they sweated, struggling against the weight of people, their knuckles dripping red from cracking skulls. As Garrik watched he saw their warthog jailor among the crowd. He tripped when he tried to get away from a stallion's path and fell to the ground, and without hesitation the stallion stomped on him with his heavy shodden hoof. The power of the impact sent a ripple through his entire muscular body, the wave glinting on his shiny hide like oil on water, and the warthog did not rise up again.

Frightened, Garrik turned his eyes on the altar and saw that Mèlu was left unattended in all the chaos. He half ran, half walked to him, even the short distance made feel painfully long by the urgency of their situation, and as he reached the small fox he simply latched onto him and hoisted him over his shoulder like a sack of oats. "We're going, now," he said and turned around without stopping to see if anyone had noticed them. Mèlu was still in stupor and did not resist nor say anything, and Garrik preferred it that way. He could thank him for saving him when they were safe.

"You idiots, he's getting away! Get them! Not me, them!" the naga yelled behind him, but he was drowned out by the shrieks of cultists assaulting him. Garrik did not look back to see how well he was fighting off his followers but broke into a jog.

As he reached the back of the statue he heard the sound of the hatch being opened, and Lanu rolled out sounding winded. "Phew! Did you get him?"

"Yes! What now? We can't use the stairs." Garrik helped Lanu up with his free hand while watching over his shoulder for any sign of pursuit.

Lanu coughed and spat. "To the back then. They have to dispose of the bodies somehow. There has to be a chute of some kind."

"That sounds like a terrible idea." Garrik thought about Mèlu wading through corpses, and shuddered. He looked up high, towards the galleries near the ceiling. "We'll climb. There's lots of handholds on these pillars."

"With you carrying this guy?" Lanu tugged Mèlu's limp arm and shook his head. "Impossible."

"Any better ideas!?" Garrik snarled, but he could feel that he was growling out of fear, not anger.

The wolf's ears flattened against his skull. "No..." he admitted, suddenly looking like a lost boy.

"Then we better get climbing!" Garrik said as he ran to the column nearest the wall. The pillar was carved with snake-like, swirling creatures, and with Mèlu slung over his shoulders he found that he could use both hands to grip the grotesque stone figures. He was halfway up when he risked a look down, and to his relief he saw Lanu was not far behind him. The gnoll opened his mouth to shout a word of encouragement when to his horror he saw the writhing, bloodied form of the naga emerge from behind the statue.

"Sacrilege! You shall pay for this..." the snake priest shouted with a voice that sounded like white-hot metal being shoved into water. With a speed that belied his size, the naga slid towards the column and, coiling his body around the stone, began to climb it like a huge centipede.

"He's faster than us!" Lanu's voice rang out. Fear gave both men wings, but Garrik had to slow his ascent again when he felt Mèlu begin to slip from his shoulders. A quick glance upwards showed him that a lateral gallery ran along the wall a few feet from the ceiling. Huffing and puffing he climbed higher but the scraping of long claws against stone just beneath him sent an icy dagger through his heart.

"Do something!" he screamed at Lanu, not knowing exactly what the young wolf could do against a monster many times his weight.

"I can't, he's too..."

Lanu's voice broke into a panicked scream. Darting his eyes towards his companion, Garrik saw that the great snake had almost caught up with the wolf. Hissing furiously, the naga reared back and opened his fang-tipped mouth to strike his helpless prey, when another form emerged from the shadows at the base of the column and ascended it with almost supernatural speed. An instant later, the naga's triumphal hiss turned into a shriek of pain and his body began to squirm and writhe.

"Death to those who betray Bel-Shanam!" a voice roared from below. The naga squirmed and lashed in maddened pain and Garrik caught a glimpse of a huge tiger pulling himself up his long tail. The feline's eyes burned with fanatical madness and his muscles bulged as he raked the reptile's scaly hide with claws and teeth. The naga lashed with all his strength but before he could knock his tormentor loose the tiger lifted a bloodied dagger and plunged it into the priest's vulnerable belly. A blood-curdling scream of rage and agony rang through the cavernous hall as the snake and the tiger fell off the column and crashed in one writhing mass into the darkness below.

Without so much as a look back Garrik and Lanu clambered up the pillar and reached the gallery. "Is he... dead?" Lanu asked while catching his breath.

"I'm not going to go back and check," the gnoll replied.

With the immediate danger gone, his attention shifted back to Mèlu, and he laid the small form of his friend on the floor. The fox was a mess. His fur was sticky with the snake's repugnant juices and his breathing was ragged and raspy, but to Garrik's relief he appeared uninjured and blissfully unaware of their current predicament. His earlier erection was gone, although his pink little cock still half-peeked from his sheath. Gently, Garrik pinched the tip of the small member and nudged it back into the fox's body.

"We need to move," Lanu tugged at him. The gnoll nodded with some regret and slid his arms under the fox's legs and neck and hoisted him onto his shoulder.

"Where does this lead to?" he asked, looking at an opening along the gallery's wall.

The wolf stared at the darkness that lay beyond the door and shook his head with a sigh. "No idea, but we have to chance it."

They groped their way into the subterranean night for what felt like an eternity, their bodies pressed against the glyph-carved wall. Garrik counted a hundred, then two hundred paces before he lost track of how far they had gone. From time to time a gust of chill air and a gap in the wall indicated the presence of a branching corridor but they kept straight ahead, reasoning that the tunnel would eventually lead them somewhere. Their expectation was proven right when Lanu stumbled upon a flight of stairs in the darkness. They went up, and eventually a dim light shone in the distance like a beacon on a shore. Garrik accelerated his pace, almost tripping in his haste. Sound carried strangely in the claustrophobic confines of the temple's belly and on more than one occasion he could swear he heard the faint echo of the rustling of scales. Whether the sound was real or an illusion of his overworked imagination he did not want to find out.

At last sunlight broke the dark gloom. Both men shielded their eyes as they emerged from the tunnel but when they opened them their hearts sank. They were in a vast, sand-filled inner courtyard, square and featureless save for a long-dried fountain in the middle. The storm had abated but the blue sky above their heads seemed to taunt them with inaccessible freedom.

"What now?" Garrik asked as his eyes darted from one smooth wall to the other.

"I don't know. How am I supposed to know!?" Lanu snapped.

The youth kicked the sand in impotent rage and sat with his head in his hands. Garrik wracked his brain for a suggestion when the patter of pawpads on bare stone made them turn their heads back to where they had come from. Lanu sprang to his feet and from sheer instinct reached for an inexistent weapon at his belt, when to both men's astonishment the massive form of Khuresh emerged from the corridor.

"By the gods! At last I've found you," the big wolf huffed, looking out of breath.

"Oh, the coward returns," Lanu sneered. "Did you get scared of being on your own?"

Khuresh's worry turned to irritation. "Shut your mouth, whelp! I came back looking for you and this is the thanks I get?"

Lanu glowered but did not talk back. He looked down so he did not need to meet his senior's eyes. "...Sorry."

Khuresh walked across the courtyard to them, his heavy footsteps raising little puffs of dust. His fur was shiny from sweat, but when Garrik caught a whiff of his wolf scent it was as potent as ever. He was agitated, but not afraid. Instinctively, Garrik tightened his grip on Mèlu.

"You mean a lot to me," Khuresh said and laid his hands on Lanu's shoulders, who looked at him sullenly. "You remind me of my younger self. We could have a big future together, running the ship as partners." He softened his tone to almost a whisper as he spoke, and finished with a firm, fatherly hug. "I just don't want to see you throwing away your potential."

Lanu sighed and pushed himself slowly away from Khuresh's hold. Despite their situation getting his face pulled into the older man's sweaty chest hair had left him a little flustered. "But what are we going to do? We're lost!"

Garrik could sense that the young wolf's former resolve had worn out, and that now he was looking for someone to guide him, to tell him that everything was going to turn out fine.

Khuresh spoke slowly with an intense look on his face. "Listen carefully. I can still undo the damage. Just hand over the fox to me, and we'll walk out of here alive."

Garrik snarled and took a step back. His feet did not make a sound as they slid on the soft sand. "What do you mean?" he demanded, his ears alert and hackles rising.

When Khuresh did not reply, Lanu stepped up to him. "Yea, what do you mean?" He realized how anxious he sounded, and tried to mask it with toughness. "Answer him, old man."

"I don't have time for this," Khuresh said and pushed Lanu aside.

Garrik sprang to action and bolted, trying to put as much distance as possible between him and the wolf, but the muscular sailor caught him with disheartening ease. He grabbed Garrik from behind, his meaty fist trapping his neck in a vice-like grip, and with a victorious yell he hoisted Garrik high up in the air. He squeezed Garrik tightly as if he was popping a cork off a bottle, his claws digging into his larynx and his strength making his spine creak. Garrik kicked and squirmed like a hanged man, but Khuresh's hold on him did not sway, and soon black spots started appearing in his vision and he could feel his blood throbbing in his eardrums. He knew that he was about to lose either his consciousness or his head, whichever came first, and the need to live made him double his struggling.

Even then he did not lose his hold on unconscious Mèlu.

"Quit fighting it!" Khuresh snarled. "It'll be over for you easier if you just let it happen!" Lanu tried to tug his wrist to get his attention, but he just shooed him away with his free arm. "What is it now? Can't you see that I'm in the middle of something?"

"Khuresh, have you gone mad? Stop hurting my friend!" Lanu shouted, completely bewildered by what was happening.

Khuresh rolled his eyes and sighed deeply. "Don't you get it, kid? I'm good with the cult." He gestured with his hand as if lecturing to a slow child. "I've been their informant for years, traveling up and down the river. That's how I knew this fox had a bounty on his head."

Lanu looked shocked, his yellow eyes big with surprise. "But, but, why? Why lead us here then?"

"Because I couldn't just snatch up Mahresh's latest toy and run off to the desert with him on my own, that's why. That would've been a tad suspicious, don't you think?" Khuresh made a curt chuckle. He was starting to enjoy himself, feeling safe in displaying his strength. "It was I who planted the idea of going on a treasure hunt in the good ol' captain's head, and to take the fox along as a ploy. Little did he know that the fox was the real treasure all along!"

Lanu stumbled back and fell to his knees, but did not try to get up. He simply watched on in stunned horror as life was being squeezed out of Garrik, his killer that implacable mountain of flesh and sinew that he had thought was their friend.

Khuresh noticed his distress. "Shh, it'll be over soon. Once the cult gets their prized fox back I'll convince them to let us go unharmed. The crew knows that the captain wants me to take over if he doesn't return, and I'll take you as my new mate." He gave Lanu a reassuring grin. "Don't worry about it, I'll make sure that you'll feel real good about your new position soon enough. I'll shower you with riches and kisses..."

"B-betrayal..." Lanu muttered, which made Khuresh snort and laugh.

"Maybe a little! But Mahresh would've done the same to me were the tables turned. So, in a way it's what he would've wanted."

While Khuresh spoke Garrik could feel his vertebrae grind against each other and his body grow weaker in the unyielding grip. His hands failed to pry off even one of those life crushing fingers, and as they fell slackly to his sides and his vision started to darken, his only regret was that his last sight would be that dusty courtyard instead of Mèlu's shy smile.

Suddenly Khuresh winced as if a jolt of back pain had struck him.

"Oof," he exhaled and tried to touch his back, but the pain of twisting his body shot through him like cold lightning. He coughed something warm in his mouth, and when he dabbed his lips he saw that his fingers were coated in blood. "Huh," he looked at them with a silent realization and let go of Garrik. The gnoll fell on the ground with the dull thud of a fresh carcass, and was left coughing and sputtering fiercely as he flopped on the sand. Khuresh took a single step before his legs lost their strength and he fell to his knees, then doubled over in pain and hit the pavement stones face first.

Behind him stood Mahresh, completely naked and carrying only an ornate scimitar that dripped blood on the sand. He had burn marks on his head and shoulders, and the fur on the left side of his face was singed black, but his eyes gleamed as brilliant as ever. He was breathing heavily, his scarred chest rising up and down rapidly, but his face was a cold mask of emotionless rage.

"Like fuck I would," he said with a raspy voice and wiped the scimitar clean on his outer thigh.

He stepped over motionless Khuresh and strode over wordlessly to Mèlu laying on the ground, and when he saw that the small fox was still dozing off peacefully he closed his eyes and sighed a little prayer of relief. He leaned in to pick him up gently, despite the feeble protests from Garrik who was still struggling to catch his breath, when all of them were interrupted by a low, bellowing hiss carrying from the entrance. The doorway to the dimly lit temple looked like a pool of blackness under the eye watering glare of the sun, but long before seeing anything they could hear the sound of a massive, scaled body slithering towards them. It moved in stops and starts, as if in pain, but with the clear intent of dogged pursuit.

"I'll hold him off. Get Mèlu somewhere safe," Garrik coughed and struggled to his feet.

"In that state? Don't be stupid, you cur. You couldn't stop a cock rammed down your throat," Mahresh said gruffly.

He was right, which made his words sting all the more. Garrik's head throbbed like a drum and his legs felt wobbly. It wasn't fair, he thought, looking at Mahresh holding Mèlu in one arm and his scimitar in the other. The dashing wolf was going to swoop in to claim all the glory, and even his new scars would impress ladies and boys.

"Lanu! Get him out of harm's way," Mahresh said without taking his glare off the door. The youth was kneeling next to Khuresh's body, and as he lifted his head Garrik saw the tears that streaked from his eyes and wetted his cheeks. He nodded meekly and rose to take the unconscious fox off the captain's arms, but before he had taken a step a long, seething hiss escaped from the darkness and made him freeze in place.

"Never before... have I witnessed such blasphemy..."

The naga slowly emerged from the depths of the temple, but the majestic figure that had greeted them only a few hours earlier was gone. In its place stood a bloodied monster whose sole remaining eye burned with rage. The snake-priest's body bore many cuts that oozed dark-red blood and from his flank still protruded the hilt of an ornate sacrificial dagger. A huge gash tore across his face over one eye and his lower right arm hung limply by his side, but his good hand clutched a long, cruel-looking sword in a tight knuckled grip.

"Our gracious host joins us," Mahresh said and pushed Mèlu into Lanu's arms, "But what happened? You look worse for the wear."

"You shall all die..." the snake continued, his hood flaring with each word, "But first you must suffer..."

Before Mahresh could respond with another display of bravado the naga sprang at him like lightning. A flash of surprise crossed the wolf's face and only pure animal reflexes saved him from the blade that swooshed past his head. Before he could lift his own scimitar for a counter-stroke the naga was at him again and the blade drew a shower of sparks as it missed him by a hair's-breadth and hit the stone pavement.

"Get out!" Mahresh yelled at Lanu while dodging another blow. The command seemed to shake the younger man from his horrified torpor and he turned to dash towards the nearest door as fast as his burden would allow him. "No you won't!" screamed the priest, and he twisted his body like a gigantic lash. The tip of his tail caught Lanu between the shoulder blades and he and Mèlu went tumbling to the floor.

"Mèlu!" screamed Garrik. In an instant he rushed to the sprawled body of his friend, turned him over and shook him. To his relief Mèlu was still breathing, the thick layer of sand on the pavement having cushioned his fall, and the vigorous shaking even awoke him from his trance-like state.

"G... Garrik??" the fox mumbled, his eyes half-lidded and hazy, "But... Where am I? The priest..."

"No time to explain," the gnoll replied, a sigh of relief escaping his lips. He glanced at Lanu and saw that the young man was rising to his knees, seemingly uninjured despite his groans of pain. He was about to call out to the youth when the clank of steel drew his attention back to the duel to the death being fought between snake and wolf.

The naga was raining blow upon blow on Mahresh, steadily forcing the captain towards the fountain at the center of the courtyard. Unencumbered by clothes or armor, the light-footed wolf danced and narrowly side-stepped each sword-strike and claw-swipe, waiting for his opponent to tire and for a chance to strike his own blade home. Yet the priest showed no sign of faltering despite his wounds, and his clumsy, rage-fuelled blows became more focused and deliberate with each second, as his berserk anger gave way to cold, calculated hatred. A coil of fear tightened in Garrik's chest as he saw Mahresh's naked body turn damp with sweat, and he knew that the first mistake the wolf made would be his last.

The panting wolf glanced left and right but the courtyard offered no shelter from the relentless onslaught. His face turned grim and a veil of determination fell over him. With a speed borne out of despair he darted past the naga's blade, jumped atop the fountain's ledge, crouched and leapt with his scimitar poised to strike. Swinging from the air, with the sun behind him his blade cut downwards, and before the naga could lift his own sword it split the priest's skull. Mahresh landed with a cry of triumph while the snake slumped down like a pile of rope, his killer's scimitar still embedded in his head.

For several seconds the wolf caught his breath and eyed the massive form of the naga. The monster remained motionless except for spastic ticks shuddering through his body, and for his dark blood gushing to the sand from his ghastly wound. With a grin Mahresh took a step forward and leaned down to grab his sword, when a twitch shook the priest from head to tail and an evil glint returned into his eye. "Watch out!" Garrik cried out, but it was too late. Animated by a final spasm of malevolence the snake struck with bared fangs and grazed Mahresh's thigh. The wolf yipped and jumped back with a mixture of pain and surprise on his face. Before he could gather his wits his eyes went wide, a bloody froth foamed past his lips and he collapsed without a sound.

The naga was now coiling and thrashing furiously on the sand, but Garrik recognized death throes when he saw them. The priest was large but also bleeding profusely, and Garrik knew that he would not live for long. Garrik stepped clear of the spitting, hissing beast and stood over Mahresh's supine form. The captain looked up with glassy, unseeing eyes, still breathing but with a violently purple discoloration spreading around the bite mark on his thigh. He, too, would not live for long.

A strange sense of emptiness filled Garrik. He hated the captain, but seeing his rival laying at his feet like a discarded rag, defeated by a wound like any other mortal, did not give him any joy. His reason told him to just walk away, now that the path to freedom was open to him and Mèlu, but he felt somehow...done.

He sat down on his haunches to watch the captain with curiosity, waiting to witness some kind of transformation in the dying man that would give his death a meaning. He was reminded of seeing the river for the first time as a kid. He had found a colorful bug in the reeds that had fascinated him, one that he had wanted to take with him, but his mother had told him to put it back because it would die without the river. Back then he had not understood what that meant, so he had taken it out of the water.

The naga's hissing had dwindled down to ragged gasps, and his blood smeared scales were already starting to attract black flies. The captain laid motionless, paralyzed, his breathing growing weaker while Garrik studied him. He had to admit that despite his wounds Mahresh was still a handsome man. He was fit for his age, his musculature delineated by thick fur that had a warm, masculine scent to it. The coarse hair on his chest and neck had grown gray, giving it a silvery tint in the sunlight, and proud scars on his body made him look like a veteran of many battles. Garrik would tell Mèlu that he had died a hero's death while saving them, and of course the small fox would mourn him for a time, and...then what?

Then what?

There was a moment of silence leaving Garrik alone with his thoughts. When the naga resumed his death rattle he blinked, shaking his head as if waking up from a dream. He stood up and walked stiffly to the dying reptile, seized Mahresh's sword by the hilt and yanked it free of the naga's skull. A final spasm shook the beast's frame, a thick jet of blood spurted on the sand and then all was quiet in the courtyard. Garrik stared at the dead priest for an instant and returned to kneel next to the wolf. He lifted the sword slowly, hefting its weight in his hands, and then brought it down to use its tip to pierce the skin next to the puncture wounds. Black, coagulated blood burst out from the gash, but Garrik did not hesitate to lean in and press his mouth on the messy ooze. He pinned the wolf's knee to the ground and sucked the wound with determination, only to get a mouthful of bitter tasting blood jelly. He gagged and spat, but then returned immediately to sucking the wound, the blood dribbling down his chin and chest making him look like a savage cannibal. He worked hard to suck out the poison, smearing Mahresh's thigh and crotch in sticky, sharp smelling handprints, until the blood bubbling out from the cut resumed its brilliant red color. Garrik's stolen robe was of little use to him anymore, so it was cut for bandages. He leaned down and hoisted the captain on his shoulders, and without looking back he followed Lanu's footsteps in the sand.

The upper floors of the temple were abandoned, its high halls partially collapsed, and sand having rained in made it easy to see where the young wolf had wandered off with Mèlu. They passed crumbling walls protruding from the sands like skeletal fingers, doorways opening vistas to patios and courtyards looking over the gaping desert, pleasure gardens long since withered and left to the elements. There were no sounds of pursuit hounding them, only the ever present wind, and Garrik felt it could take days before anyone had the presence of mind to come to look for them in this burial ground of half formed architecture. That suited him well: he had intention of leaving this accursed place behind well before the end of the current one.

Winded, he half stumbled half slouched into a bank of sand to rest. He was thirsty but a piece of ancient masonry provided him and Mahresh some shade, and he leaned his back on it enjoying how firm it felt against his aching muscles. Mahresh made a groaning sound, so he propped him up into a sitting position next to him. The wolf had started to come back to his senses, and he looked at Garrik with weary eyes.

Mahresh licked his dry lips. "...you saved me." His voice was hoarse, and Garrik could hear the disbelief in it.

Garrik hung his head down and doodled in the sand with his finger. "Yeah."

"Why?"

Garrik did not reply at first. He dug out a stone and flung it, making a cracking sound against the opposite wall. "Mèlu needs a home," he said matter-of-factly.

Mahresh closed his eyes and leaned his head back, savoring one thought after another, the bitterness bringing a tear to his eye. He exhaled. "I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"Everything." Mahresh opened his arms with closed eyes. "Come." When Garrik hesitated, he cracked open his eyelids to a thin, tired sliver. "Don't leave me hanging. I said come."

Uncertain, clumsy, Garrik got up on all fours and clambered to touch Mahresh's lap gingerly. The wolf pulled him into a warm hug, letting him lay his head on his shoulder. Mahresh's strong hand scratched Garrik behind the ears and petted him, and the gnoll felt himself relax in his arms. They stayed there snoozing in an embrace, feeling each others' body heat, breathing in unison and letting their soft fur tickle each other, as two warriors resting after a battle.

After an indeterminate time Garrik yawned and stretched, feeling his strength returned. When he got up Mahresh reached out to him. "Help me up, I think I can walk on my own."

Garrik clasped his arm and pulled him up, noticing that the wolf's erection was peeking out of its sheath. Mahresh did not bother to hide it in any way, but stood there as if it was the most natural thing in the world. He stretched his legs, wincing a little, but then cracked his neck and shook his shoulders. "All right, I'm ready. Where do you want to go?"

Garrik tried a smile, the first in what felt like many years. "Let's find the others, and then let's find you some clothes before we leave."

Somehow Lanu had found his way back to the same pillared hallway where they had first encountered the cultists and their master. He and Mèlu were sitting on the sand, and the small fox's eyes went wide when he saw the pair emerging from a stairway.

"You're alive, you're both alive!" he cried out as he ran towards the two men and jumped into Mahresh's arms.

"Barely..." the wolf winced under the weight of the overeager young man.

"But you're hurt!" Mèlu gasped, seeing the bloodied rag around Mahresh's thigh. "What happened?"

"This man saved me, this is what happened," Mahresh replied, and he laid his hand on Garrik's shoulder.

Mèlu looked at Mahresh, then at Garrik, as if he couldn't quite believe what he had just heard. But then a smile split his face, and he walked to the big gnoll and hugged him tightly.

"Thank you," he whispered, his face pressed against Garrik's chest, "Thank you for being my hero."

"It's nothing at all, really..." Garrik replied, awkwardly returning the hug and feeling his skin flush under his fur.

"And modest too..." Mèlu chuckled and gave him a peck on the nose. "Don't worry, I will congratulate you as you deserve... in private," he whispered into his ear.

It was Lanu who saved the gnoll from his embarrassment. "I am also well, thank you for asking," he said, lightly tapping his foot on the floor.

"I can see that," Mahresh grinned, "And I thank the gods that I took you with us."

Lanu's face brightened at the rare praise, then became clouded again. "Khuresh... I would never have thought this of him."

Mahresh shook his head angrily and spat on the floor. "He was my companion for many years, but I misjudged him badly. I am glad he misjudged you in turn," he said.

"He was always good to me. Even when no one else was," Lanu replied, his voice breaking a little, "Maybe... we can keep what happened a secret? The Khuresh we saw today is not the one I want people to remember."

He stared at a sand mound next to his feet, as if afraid to meet Mahresh's gaze. The grizzled wolf looked at the younger man and the anger on his features turned into a somber, melancholic expression.

"It wouldn't do anyone any good to know," he finally sighed, "And perhaps that's not how I want to remember him either. Now let's get ready to leave."

The temple had lost much of its ominous power with the naga's death, and the small group did not hesitate long before exploring the adjacent corridors and rooms for supplies. Soon they had gathered sufficient water, dried fruit and flatbread to sustain them for the return journey, as well as a pair of discarded trousers and a linen shirt to shield Mahresh's modesty. Garrik shuddered as he dusted the moth-eaten clothes, wondering if they had belonged to an unfortunate traveler who had sought hospitality in this cursed place.

"What did you tell Mèlu?" he whispered to Lanu, taking advantage of a moment when the fox was out of ear's reach.

"What he needed to know," the youth replied. "I did not mention what he did during the... ceremony. He wasn't himself at the time, and he doesn't remember any of it." Garrik breathed a sigh of relief and nodded. Some things were better left buried and forgotten.

Their preparations done, they hurried towards the great stairways and the door. "Won't they pursue us?" Mèlu whispered and looked over his shoulder.

"Let them just try," Mahresh growled, "But I think they have their hands quite full at the moment."

Even the sun-backed plain was a welcome sight after the tomb-like confines of the dying cult's monastery, and the group did not linger before crossing the great door's threshold. Then, just as they reached the gigantic statues that guarded the entrance a distant but loud commotion made them turn their heads.

The temple's flat roof was dotted with robed figures, no more than two dozen now. The cultists' attention was not focused on the fugitives but on two struggling figures among them. Garrik squinted his eyes and held his breath as he recognized the stallion brothers. Cheering and cackling wildly, the frenzied mob prodded the two slaves towards the roof's edge with daggers, swords and bronze-tipped spears. The horses tried to fight back, swinging their fists left and right but a tall, sinister-looking vulture urged the acolytes on, until in the end the cornered stallions let out a great cry of rage, clasped each other's arms and with a great spring jumped over the parapet. Mèlu buried his face in Garrik's bosom as the two bodies hurtled down and fell into the jagged rocks at the foot of the wall.

"Bel-Shanam has found a new champion," Lanu commented as a hate-filled cheer rose from the distant crowd. The vulture priest raised his winged arms to bless his congregation, and Garrik noticed that he was wearing what looked like a snake-crown. Already the cultists were bringing forth their next victims, and the lion nobleman and his wife were dragged into view, their rich robes torn and their bodies bloodied. But the four men had had enough of the ghastly spectacle, and they did not look back when two screams briefly echoed in the desolate valley.

The four of them turned their back to the cursed place and walked in silence, first afraid of being pursued, but then, realizing that they had escaped without detection, they fell silent under the weight of their memories. When the sun rose at its highest on the sky and seared the ground mercilessly they stopped for a short rest, but eager as they were to put distance between themselves and that pit of madness in the desert, they picked up their journey as soon as they could bear to tread the hot sand.

Mahresh led them towards the setting sun, but when his steps grew heavy, Garrik got up to his side and brushed his hand lightly with his knuckles. Without looking Mahresh took Garrik's hand in his, intertwining their fingers. Mèlu hurried forward to take Garrik's other hand, giving him a little smile, and the three of them walked on, hand in hand.

"We should've snatched some of that treasure before leaving," Mahresh said musing absentmindedly, as if they were on a leisurely stroll. "That place was loaded with riches."

"And break our backs while carrying them? The real treasure was the husbands I found," Mèlu chipped in perkily, swishing his tail and pushing against Garrik's side. He felt small and light and all around lovely.

"Oh." Garrik's ears drooped. "What about me? Don't you want me around as your servant?"

"You didn't listen, you silly," Mèlu's laughter was as shrill as a silver whistle, "I said husbands."

Mahresh looked Garrik in the eyes, and gripped his hand firmly. "Husband," he nodded.

For the first time in years Garrik felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. "Oh." He felt his cheeks getting warm, and he looked aside coyly.

"Actually," Lanu said from behind them where he had been trudging along in his thoughts, "we didn't leave completely empty handed." When the others stopped to look at him he fished around in his jacket pocket, and pulled out a blood red ruby the size of his palm. It was one of the eyes of the snake god idol.

"Hoo boy, looks like at least one of us gets to retire as a rich man!" Mahresh called out and clapped his hands together, looking impressed with the young wolf.

"Ehh," Lanu flicked his wrist and tossed the ruby to Mahresh who caught it from the air. "After splitting it four ways and sending my family what they need, I'm not left with that much gold." He scratched his neck and looked at the horizon. "Besides, being the first mate on a slave galley is a honorable job. If you'd still have me. I heard you're missing one now..." He tried to give them his old cocky grin but failed, tears starting to well up in his eyes.

Mahresh handed off the ruby to Garrik and closed the gap between him and Lanu with a few, hurried steps. He clasped his arms around the youth and pulled him into a tight, intense embrace.

"Of course I will," he said with a choked voice, "I'll have you."

Garrik and Mèlu followed suit, surrounding the youth from all sides.

"I'll be kind to you when you want to lighten your heart," Mèlu said, holding onto his midriff. "If you're going to be kind to me in turn."

"And I'll keep your bed warmed up," Garrik said, holding him from behind, his muzzle resting against his neck.

Mahresh kissed Lanu on the forehead, like a father, and did not let go.

The four of them stood there, their bodies pressing together, warm and breathing and alive, swallowing tears and hugging the pain away. The curtain of night was taking over and tomorrow the four of them would see a new day.