Prospector with Steamdrill
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The Cult of Kanesh-Tar
Two figures stood on the stony path that was the only pass through the mountains and into the Kush Valley beyond. Behind them lay the seaports that formed the only real civilisation in the whole of Ind. Clinging to the sea as if for protection the thirty or so towns and cities formed a solid belt of urban sprawl. Some said that more people lived in the Indish seaports than in the whole of the Empire. Nominally, Ind spread for several hundreds of miles into the interior of the contient; in fact the Maharajah’s rule was of little importance once you had left the narrow flat plain that lead down to the sea. Beyond this a hundred, if not a thousand, different tribes vied for control of the valleys and mountainous plateaus that made up the interior. Many could not tell you who their emperor was and it was a brave tax collector indeed who tried to gather the dues from these wild mountain people.
Kumar Ishbek was of a merchant class from Gangpoor, a suburb of the seaport sprawl, though now the pale complexion which denoted his high status was burnt black by the unrelenting sun. He had travelled for nearly two weeks into the interior. He had only left Gangpoor once before in his forty years of life and although that had been this exact same journey it had been a far easier. Where as the last journey had been part of a marriage procession, he was now almost alone. He had started with a small retinue of slaves and guides but one by one they had gone, until only Benja Din, his most loyal slave, remained. Everyone of them had disappeared at night, with out trace. Kumar presumed that they had made a bid for freedom. Previosuly Kumar had been shown the way by natives of this wild land, none less than the retainers of Prince Hamed. He was not sure that he was even on the right road anymore. When last he trod these paths he had not realised the need to remember every detail, every fork in the road, every bent tree that might serve as a land mark on his next journey.
He would have given up many days back if his expedition was not of such vital importance to him. Two years ago he had brought his sister this route, to the palace of Prince Hamed so that she might be his bride. He had warned her of what life would be like after the marriage. She was a city girl used to the hussle of the streets and suhqs of Gangpoor. But she could not be dissuaded. She had met Prince Hamed a year before when he had travelled to the city on official business. Ashwi had been a lady in waiting in the palace of the Maharaja and had fallen in love with the Prince whilst he was on official business there. The marriage had been arranged with in the week, Hamed accepting only a token dowry, if rumour was true he had no need for more worldly riches for his palace was said to be stuffed with more gold and jewels than one man could ever spend in a life time.
At first the marriage seemed to progress well. Kumar had received a letter from Ashwi once a month and although she missed her family in Gangpoor she was enjoying the life of a princess. And then the letters had stopped coming. The first month a letter did not arrive Kumar was not worried. It was a long way from the palace in which she now resided and it would not be unusual for any mail to be lost of delayed. When no letter arrived the next month his anxieties were aroused a little but there was nothing he could do, it would take him over a fortnight just to travel to there, and then he would have to journey back, his business could not stand him to be away for over a month. And so nervously Kumar waited for a letter. It never came. Eventually, fearing the worst, Kumar left the business in one of his younger brother’s hands and left to find out what had happened to his sister.
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Kumar looked up suddenly from where he had been washing the dust from his face in a stream. He thought he had heard something in the jungle just beyond the path. He tried to peer into the gloomy shadows but could make nothing out of the vague shapes therein. He crossed the path and pushed aside the undergrowth still squinting against the harsh sunlight into the darkness that lay just feet in front of him. Suddenly a hand grabbed his shoulder
‘Do not leave the path, sahib, I beg you.’ Kumar breather a sigh of relief, it was just Benja.
‘No you’re probably right.’ He replied. ‘You never know what may be in there.’ Benja didn’t reply and so with one brief glance back over his shoulder they started the descent down into the Kush Valley.
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Ashwi Ishbek, or rather Rani Ashwi as she had been for two days now, looked out from the balcony of her new home, the palace. It rose majestic and white above the surrounding town. It was called a town but in fact was more like a village. Less than 100 families lived within the walls, but those that did were wealthy and the whole town looked like it formed part of the palace it’s self. Every wall was whitewashed and kept brilliantly clean. Here and there a climbing plant would add a splash of vivid green. The streets and squares were all cobbled with a bright red stone and these too were kept clean by slaves with large brooms. The town’s wealth was based largely on spices, primarily pepper, which were harvested from the broad rocky slopes that rose up from the north of town into the mountains that surrounded the whole of the Kush Valley. The mountains rose so high and steep from the valley floor that it was only the south facing valley side that received a significant amount of sunlight. The other sides remained in gloom for most of the day but despite this were still thick with jungle vegetation. It seemed curios to Ashwi that although she could see mangoes and papaya growing in this dark jungle no one ever picked them. All the fruit and vegetables eaten by the townsfolk were brought in by the traders who bought the spices off them. She had asked why this was on a several occasions but each answer she had received had been equally evasive and she was still none the wiser.
Ashwi sighed and ducked under the silk curtain back into her room. Despite her near-utopian surroundings she was not happy. When Prince Hamed had asked her brother for her hand in marriage she had been over the moon, her brother had not accepted straight away but had asked her if she was sure she wanted to commit to marriage to Hamed. She had been sure. Hamed was hansom, caring, generous and rich, what more could she want from a man. The ceremony it’s self had been as joyous and festive as she could have hoped for. It wasn’t until after the revelries that it struck her that the singing had dancing had been from her party. Everyone from the palace seemed perpetually worried. This phenomenon had continued after the ceremony and did not seem contained to the palace it’s self. The townsfolk walked about the place with eyes down cast, their faces ashen. It was as if they did not see the splendour in which they lived. All this, however, escaped Ashwi on her first day in her new home.
After the ceremony Hamed led her to his sleeping quarters where their marriage was consecrated. Afterwards Ashwi lay upon the silk bed sheets, she wondered if life could get any better. Opening her eyes she gazed on the countenance of her new husband and her heart dropped. It was as if he had removed a mask from his face. The smile, which she had not seen him with out once, was gone. She thought she could see tears welling in his eyes.
‘What’s wrong?!’ She exclaimed. ‘Have I done something to offend you?’
‘You have done nothing.’ Hamed replied in a dull monotonous voice. He stood up from the bed, walked across the room and pulled a bell rope. Turning back towards her he added ‘I’m sorry.’ Ashwi collapsed on the bed, the tears pouring from her eyes.
‘What are you sorry for? You’ve done nothing wrong?’ she almost screamed.
‘I’m sorry for bringing you here.’ He said and left the room. Ashwi started to rise to follow him but the door opened again, however it was not Hamed but his vizier Arimus. It was impossible to guess how old Arimus was, if you were to go by the wrinkles on his face and his twisted and gnarled body then you would put him not a day under ninety. As Ashwi was later to learn he actually looked good for his age. He hobbled across the bedroom towards her and as she pulled a sheet across herself to try and keep some modesty. He put a hand on her shoulder and pushed her flat on her back with a strength that would have seemed more appropriate in a bear. He pulled from under his tunic a crystal pendant and hung it over her belly. It hung motionless for a minute until her replaced it under his tunic and said
‘You are not yet with child. You will be required here again tomorrow night.’
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Kumar threw some more logs on the fire and the flames crackled and leapt higher sending a cloud of sparks into the air. He could see no need for a fire, the night was hot and sticky enough with out one, but Benja had insisted. They were now no more that two days trek from the palace where he hoped to find his sister, safe and well. It was late and Kumar closed his eyes and tried to sleep. They had long since left the tents behind them. They were no use any way, it was nearly as warm at night as it was during the day.
‘You must sleep.’ Kumar said to Benja
‘I will shortly, sahib.’ Was the reply. The same reply he got every night and yet when he went to sleep Benja was keeping watch and when he woke the next morning Benja was sat in the same place still keeping watch. Kumar could only assume hat he must have got at least some sleep for it was not possible for a man to deprive himself of rest for so long. He wasn’t even sure what he was watching for. The valley was sparsely populated and bandits where not known in this area. If some one where to approach then the birds of the jungle would surely sound and yet they were silent. He hadn’t noticed how absolutely silent they were before. It was that thought that stayed with him while he drifted into an uneasy sleep
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Ashwi was awoken by the call to morning prayer. As she made her way to the temple she was amazed at the offerings that people had brought to Brahmesh, the central god of the Indish pantheon. Even for wealthy merchants the piles of fruit, and even jewellery and gems, that they brought with them seemed excessive. During the ceremony the high priest worked him self into a near frenzy asking for Brahmesh’s blessing and protection.
Afterwards Ashwi took a walk in the palace gardens. She was sitting by a fountain when she heard a commotion from the other side of the palace wall. Hurrying through a near by gate she found that mob of people had set about a man. They were shouting something but it was in the local dialect and she could not understand what. She was about to shout for them to stop when Arimus steeped into the fray. He gave a few words of command and the mob retreated back from the man who now lay prone on the floor. Ashwi thought that he had a look of fear in his eyes.
Armius spoke with one of the crowd and then ripped the shirt from the prone man’s chest. Ashwi could see what looked like buboes on his breast. The crowd gasped and stepped back. The prone man shouted in fear and tried to scramble up but Arimus knocked his hands from under him with his staff. At Arimus’ command the crowd then lifted the man in the air and, as he began screaming and struggling the carried him towards the south gate in the town walls. Ashwi followed at a safe distance not knowing what to do. The gate didn’t seem to have been used for a long time, it was chained shut and a sturdy cross bar had to be lifted out of place before the procession could continue. Ashwi didn’t follow the crowd out but stopped at the gate, something about the dark jungle that crept right up to the town walls held her back. She could hear the man’s screams for sometime. They must have fastened him to something in the jungle for while the crowd hurriedly returned she could still hear the man screaming, though such was his terror that she could not make out a word of what he actually said. Arimus gently pulled her back inside and the men began to rechain the door. As they were doing so the screaming suddenly stopped. For a moment the men stood still with looks of abject horror on their faces. Then the quickly recommenced making even more haste to fasten the door. When they had done the crowd dissipated as quickly as it had formed.
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Kumar woke suddenly. It was still night and the deathly hush he had noticed earlier remained. He looked toward the fire expecting Benja to still be hunched over the flames but couldn’t see him. He told himself it was good that Benja was resting but felt uneasy that his trusted servant was not watching over him. The fire had died right down to it’s embers so he rose and threw some more logs into the orange glow. They slowly caught hold and Kumar looked around to see where Benja had lay down to sleep. He couldn’t see him anywhere. He moved round to the other side of the fire but still there was no sign. I small shiver of cold ran down his back, despite the warmth of the night and the fire. He thought he heard a movement further down the path, around a corner. He was torn whether to stick by the fire or seek out Benja. A sudden crash made Kumar jump out of his skin. Something had fallen into the middle of the fire causing the flames to flare up in a light that momentarily blinded him. As they died back down he stood, frozen to the spot with horror. In the middle of the fire, staring back up at him, was Benja’s dismembered head.
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Ashwi sat on her bed and cried. She had been in this wretched town for over a year. She barely left her room now. Her only companion was Kala, her maid, who doted on her like a sister. Even now she sat stroking her hair trying to ease her sorrow. The only way that Ashwi gained any pleasure was in writing her letters to her brother, Kumar. She could not bear to upset him so in her letters she invented another life. One where she was happy and her husband loved her. These letters became her only escape. As she sealed each envelope she would smile when she thought of how happy it would make Kumar.
In reality she hadn’t even seen her husband for months. The last time she had he had performed his husbandly duties in mechanical silence, as he always did. They did not exchange a word. However this time after Hamed left and Arimus entered, pushed her onto the bed and held the pendulum over her it did not sit motionless, but began slowly to rotate. He had smiled down at her and said
‘Congratulations, you are with child.’ In the past few months her belly had begun to swell and every night she cried her self to sleep with the thought of bringing a child into an empty meaningless life like hers. She was not imprisoned in her room but all the same she rarely left. Although the town was technically beautiful it seemed indifferent somehow. She gained no pleasure from sitting in the manicured gardens or watching the sparkling fountains. All around her the town seemed lifeless. The townsfolk seemed to walk around in a living nightmare. There faces told of an unnamed dread and the all the while where ever she was she could see the accursed jungle, shrouded in dark looking down upon her. Even now as she sat on her bed she could see the jungle through her window. She sometimes thought she could see people moving under the cover of the thick growth, dark shadowy figures. She had told Kala this but she had replied that no one lived in the jungle. She had asked why it was so dangerous, why it was that no one would ever enter the jungle on any circumstance but one, too take anyone who was ill under its canopy to die. Kala would not tell her. She would not even tell her why the sick were always treated in this manner, only that they were taken away so they would not spread the illness to anyone else.
No one ever entered her room except Kala and so it made her jump when the door swung open. Hamed stood framed in the doorway. Ashwi did not know what to say and so sat there in silence. Hamed crossed the room and sat beside her. Kala bowed to him and quickly left the room.
‘Ashwi’ he said after a while. ‘I don’t know if you have noticed but sickness is spreading though out our town.’ Ashwi had indeed noted that where as when she first arrived roughly one person a week was disposed of in the jungle, now it was nearer one a day. She didn’t know how to reply so Hamed carried on. ‘The people of the town…they…’ he faltered for a moment before closing his eyes and carrying on’…they say you have brought it upon us.’
‘How could I? I have done nothing.’ Ashwi stuttered in shock ‘How could they blame it on me.’
‘Before you arrived it had been 12 years since anyone had fallen sick.’ Ashwi had no reply and so after a minute Hamed continued. ‘There are…forces, gods, deamons, what ever you want to call them that dwell in the parts. They must be appeased. I had hoped that with Brahmesh’s help we could avert this at least until…well..’ his eyes fell on Ashwiri’s swollen belly. ‘But it is not to be. I am afraid that you will have…’ At this point Kala, who had obviously been listening at the door, ran in screaming. She flung her self at Ashwi’s feet.
‘No. I won’t let you take her!’ Hamed ignored her and made a motion. Two members of the town guard entered, grabbed an arm each and dragged Ashwi from the room. She made no effort to fight against them.
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Kumar ran in blind panic away from the camp. The darkness folded in on top of him as he rounded the corner of the path. He could see figures everywhere, whether they were real or not he couldn’t say, it didn’t seem to matter any more as reality and his nightmares seemed to be one and the same. As his eyes got used to the dark he could see the starry night and against it the terror of the jungle loomed above him. His heart nearly burst as he pounded on trying to escape the smothering darkness of the jungle which followed him on either side. After a while the panic subsided slightly he still didn’t know if anything was following at his heels but the regular beat of his feet and the thumbing of his heart lulled him into a kind of trance. He concentrated on his breathing trying to lock out the horrors around him. Then, suddenly, his foot hit something hard in the road and he was sent sprawling head long into the road. His brow caught a rock and consciousness was snapped out of him.
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Ashwiri stirred. The town guard had tied her to a large wooden post in the jungle, out of sight of the town before retreating back into the safety of it’s walls. The screams of those she had seen dragged out here had subsided usually before the gate had been locked again. She had expected her fate to be similarly quick but as yet nothing had happened. The moon had now risen high into the sky, for a while she had listened to the songs of the night birds but they had stopped now and the jungle waited in a deathly hush. She saw a movement a little way into the jungle and shuddered. However it was with a pang of relief that she saw Kala make her way carefully through the moonlit undergrowth toward her.
‘Kala, what are you doing her?’ she asked in a harsh whisper.
‘I have come to rescue you Rani’ said Kala overjoyed at finding her still alive. She deftly undid the bonds that bound Ashwi to the post and urged her ‘Quickly, we must leave, it is not safe.’ Ashwi didn’t answer so Kala pulled at her hand and urged her once again ‘Quickly.’ Still Ashwi didn’t answer and as Kala looked at her she realised she was gazing over her shoulder at something. He face a mask of horror. Slowly she turned around. Out of the darkness loomed a being more terrible than either of them had ever conceived. It had the head of goat, but stood twenty feet tall. It’s skin was textured like a frog and it had open wounds which dripped with foul pus. It’s one eye was closed shut and around it buboes and grown, some had burst. It opened it’s mouth to reveal rows of sharp teeth. Kala whispered beneath her breath
‘Kanesh-Tar’ To both their surprise it spoke.
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Kumar came to in the blistering heat of the midday sun. With a sudden jolt the memories of last night’s flight came back to him. He jumped to his feet and looked around, but could see nothing amiss. He sank back down, his back resting against the cart which had tripped him over the night before. His heart sank. He now knew where he was. Around the next corner lay the town he had been looking for but all hopes of finding his sister alive and well were fast quitting him. He knew that in times of plague the traders left their goods at this place so that once they had left the townsfolk could collect with out chance of spreading the disease to the merchants. The cart against which he now rested was stacked high with fruit and vegetables. There must be plague in the town. But worse than that, the goods lay rotting, they had been there for many weeks. Why hadn’t they been collected? He now had doubts of finding anyone alive. For awhile he sat his head resting on his hands and then he got up. His sister must surely be dead. Well he himself had little hope of making it back to the coast alive so why try, it would be better to die in this god forsaken town. The Prince may have taken his sister away in life but in death at least they could rest together. Then he froze, around the corner her heard the sound of footsteps.
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Ashwi and Kala walked back towards the town. The light was just beginning to break over the eastern mountain tops. They held hands for mutual support. As they were spotted at the front gate a shout broke out
‘You foolish girl, Kanesh-Tar must be appeased! You will bring death upon all our heads!’ A handful of figures ran towards them barley discernible in the half light.
‘Be brave, Ashwi’ whispered to Kala, ‘we owe them nothing but death.’ They stopped walking and both held onto a wooden staff there was a blinding flash and the men that ran towards them fell to the ground. They screamed in agony. As the two women walked up to them they could see blisters erupting on the faces. Their limbs contorted in a horrible fashion and after a few short minutes it was over, they lay dead on the dirt.
In the palace a short while later Ashwi and Kala stood in Hamed’s throne room. The Prince lay prostrate on the floor before them.
‘You are fool Hamed.’ Said Ashwi ‘Did you think that you could keep Kanesh-Tar at bay forever? Did you really think that you’re prayers to Bramesh were keeping him away from you? He was merely biding his time. Every diseased corpse you fed him made him stronger, every fearful glance at the jungle gave him power.’
‘I tried. I tried to save my people.’ Hamed protested.
‘You tried nothing!’ Ashwi screamed at him. ‘You gave your people to him willingly to save your own skin, you lived in fear, fear upon which he fed, growing stronger each day. And now, Hamed, now it’s too late!’
‘Do not give your self to him!’ Hamed pleaded ‘He will use you and then kill you!’
‘Hah!’ spat Ashwi, ‘how is that so different from what you have done?’
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Ashwi sat on her throne with Kala at her side. There was a part of her that still remained human. That part looked out at the horror she had caused. The town was in ruins, Brahmesh’s temple had been desecrated, the palace fell to pieces around her. Kanesh-Tar’s influence was everywhere. The jungle had crept in over the walls, in a matter of weeks trees had broken up through the cobbled streets and squares. The river Kush ran black and fetid. But the worst was what had happened to the people. At first Ashwi thought it was just plague. Every man woman and child had become covered in boils and pus filled buboes. Legions wept on decaying flesh. But then the first of them started to sprout horns and there skin became covered in rank, matted hair. Creatures crept about the town and it was impossible to tell whether they had once been human and were now becoming ever more bestial or whether they had started life and animals and had gained a foul mockery of humanity. She had given birth to Hamed’s child but it was his child no longer. It was neither, man, animal nor demaon but an abhorrent mixture of all three.
She was tempted to end her own life but she dare not. She had sold her soul to a deamon and could only imagine what violent and terrible future awaited beyond her death.
Her minions brought forth a prisoner, occasionally they would capture a man from outside the valley, who was untainted by the corruption which had dehumanised them. She descended from her dais and walked towards the struggling figure. Fresh meat was a luxury and as Rani she always had the first meal from the carcus. She looked into the face of the captive, straight into the eyes of her brother. The part of her that remained her, that had not yet been twisted beyond recognition screamed at her to stop. Her followers were confused as she paused. She saw a glimmer of recognition in Kumar’s eyes
‘Ashwi?’ The words barely escaped his lips. She lowered her face to his.
‘I’ve come to save you, Ashwi.’ Kumar smiled. His eyes flickered shut, the smile still on his face.
Ashwi lifted her head. She too smiled. It was over.
The part of her that had maintained it’s humanity was gone. Kumar lay dieing, his jugular ripped clean open. Ashwi smiled at Kala, the blood dripping off her chin.
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5000+pts- Strip and paint project.
~2000pts- 90% painted
