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It didn’t take long for the bells on each Hamwar to chime, summoning all of Dardan to yet another council meeting.
Great, Abarōz thought, forcing down a last spoonful of lamb. Trying to look dutiful, she trailed behind her parents, who in turn merged with a crowd all seeking the second Hamwar. The staircases overflowed with people, and in all the tumult, she could only hope that her father had been wrong.
After what seemed like hours, thousands of Dardans ascended to the Great Cathedral. Abarōz looked above the crowd’s heads. The sheer size of this cave, coupled with the oddity of its new god, always made her wonder. What had those strange priests wanted, venturing out to their city some five hundred years prior, completely unafraid of the enemy just outside? Was it merely to preach some strange new gospel about the figure who hung on a wall, suspended on a rock cross? All her questions dissolved as her eyes sought the roof, its vastness shrouded in black. Who could not be impressed by the magnitude of this temple?
It seemed to be the S̆āh. Appearing from behind the altar, he was encircled by his large family and a host of viziers. Ironically, beneath him sat a gold idol—of himself—just as portly and sour as the original. Naturally, he was also surrounded by a phalanx of guards and lances, but this was nothing as Abarōz glimpsed the man who came out behind him.
Could it really be Kavad, his body still whole and his expression smug?
“My subjects!” the S̆āh began, his voice bouncing against all that rock, “as you may or may not know, We discovered a traitor, one so black of heart he defied Our rules and crept into the Bērūn.” Most of the citizens gasped, though this was hardly a secret. “As you can see with your own eyes, he lives. Much against Our wishes, he has met with the enemy, who in their endless avarice desire even more gold. And, I fear, an unseasonal sacrifice.”
Craning her head toward the back, Abarōz felt a chill. As long as she could remember, sacrifices took place only at the start of a season.
Now the throng erupted in murmurs until the S̆āh raised a hand.
“I tell you we must comply. For ten centuries, Dardans have sheltered here, safe from the rampaging enemy. Yet now my vizier Kavad has defied all decency, breached Our law, and tightened upon our throats the enemy’s grasp. Hence, I command that ten Ōšmurdan and fifteen zarran be made Axwaš tonight. It is them I hold responsible for Kavad’s shameless theft. Guards!”
Abarōz stood on tiptoe as four of them lurched forward, steel helmets from a bygone age glinting in the light of candles. She watched, horrified, as they grabbed a woman and her three small children.
Kavad’s family, she thought.
Then Kavad himself performed an act more worthy of a snake. He slithered beside the S̆āh, whispering into his ear. A command was shouted, and before Abarōz knew it, three metal-clad guards stomped over, seizing Rastag by the shoulders and binding his hands before him.
“NO!” Abarōz screamed, trying to force her way after them. But the guards shoved her aside as her father, joined by other prisoners, was marched up the stone stairway.
Abarōz turn to her mother who looked relieved she’d been spared. Trembling, she followed the grim procession up to the first Hamwar.
There, the massive boulder at the Dardan gate was rolled aside via a system of pulleys. The Axwaš were pushed out before the boulder closed behind them. Abarōz could hear the sounds. Bloodcurdling screams, almost as if the Dardans were being devoured whole.
