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Birth Rite	By : tsutsuji Category: +S to Z > Slayers Views: 6413 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Slayers, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 18
- 19
- 20
Title: Birth Rite Chapter 19: A Terrible Tale (new improved version 10/6/13)
Author: Tsutsuji
Fandom: Slayers
Pairing: Xelloss/Zelgadis
Rating: M in general. Warning for graphic description of torture in this chapter (not of any major characters)
Length: around 6700 words
Chapter Summary: On a dark and stormy day, Xelloss and Zelgadis hear a couple of stories about the ruins, one that is terrible and one that is just plain bad.

Zelgadis lay for a while in that pleasant state of knowing he wasn't quite awake yet and didn't need to be. In those lovely few moments before he even had to move, he almost felt limp enough in the grip of sleep that his body might still be human. He had leisure to become aware of his surroundings before he had to open his eyes: the clickety-clatter of sleet hitting the windows of the cottage; the smell of coffee drifting in from the main room; Xelloss' presence, not hovering over him as he often was when Zelgadis awoke, but nearby. And then, the lazy muttering of a healing spell that was becoming quite the morning habit, just enough to brush away the last of whatever pain he'd given to Xelloss last night.
It was worth it for the stone-melting bliss he remembered before sleep had overtaken him, a reasonable price for having a Mazoku lover, and especially for a Mazoku who was considerate enough to have his coffee ready the morning after.
It took him a few more lazy minutes to remember why he felt so especially content this morning. For the first time in a month or more, he knew where he would be and what he would be doing for the next several days, or even longer, if all went well. That was an unusual luxury. Even the crackle and scrape of stone skin as he finally stretched and opened his eyes wasn't enough to disturb such a peaceful feeling.
Still not thoroughly awake, he yawned as he pulled on a robe and left the bedroom. Xelloss had indeed freshened the fire and had tucked his coffee pot into the corner of the coals, and he'd even set out Zelgadis' mug along with fruit and rolls that Myona brought yesterday, all ready for him on the little table next to the hearth. The mazoku was curled up on a chair near the table, with Melly's book open on his lap. He didn't look up from it, but Zelgadis' senses tingled with the feeling of being watched through hidden eyes as he shuffled across the room to pour himself a cup of coffee.
He hid his own gaze behind the rim of his mug, regarding Xelloss silently as the coffee and the mazoku's aura started to clear away his sleepiness. After a long sip and a sigh of satisfaction, he went over to peer at the book over Xelloss' shoulder.
"How is it?" he asked.
"Incredibly boring!" Xelloss answered cheerfully without looking up from the page. "I don't know about the original version, but this translation could give The Making of Worlds a run for the money as a sleeping spell."
"Does it make more sense than that, I hope?" Zelgadis asked, not really very hopeful that it would.
"Hm," Xelloss put his finger to his chin and thought about it for a moment. "No."
Zelgadis rolled his eyes. He didn't even suppose Xelloss was exaggerating. What little he could make out of the text from reading over Xelloss' shoulder didn't connect in his brain at all. Of course, the fact that he had his nose almost in Xelloss' hair didn't help; the scent of shadows and astral magic did not encourage his brain to think coherent thoughts, even in spite of the coffee.
"Probably the same addle-brained translator," he muttered, taking another sip.
"I can summarize it and save you the agony of reading it for yourself, if you like," Xelloss offered. "The great and marvelous Ameranada Asmalath, first of the Malas, set sail on his - or possibly her, the scholars have never determined even that for certain - at any rate, set sale on a glorious ship of gold to escape the destruction of the Island of Skye, and landed triumphantly some indeterminate number of days later on the point of land later to be known as Wyndcliff Point. And that's about it, really!"
"I suppose they use as many words as possible to say that," Zelgadis said, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Of course!"
Xelloss leaned back and grinned up at him. For a few seconds, Zelgadis was transfixed by the sight. The dark hair fell back from Xelloss' face, the mazoku's amethyst eyes glittered and his grin promised mischief. A thought of leaning down and kissing Xelloss came into his mind, followed quickly by the notion of climbing onto his lap on that chair. He wondered if it was sturdy enough.
Before he could follow through on that idea, Xelloss slipped right out from under him, stood up and spun around to face him, and struck a speech-maker’s pose. With the book held out in front of him and his other hand raised, he began to recite.
" 'The great, gold-painted ship (footnote 1: arorene'a, lit. "ship of gold;" giving rise to the popular but certainly erroneous notion that the ships were indeed literally made of gold; see pp 301-2 and p 317 note 2 for similar examples) raced (footnote 2: norend-te, lit. "flew;" while previous studies have assumed the sorcerers of Skye left the island on flying ships, further cues in the text refute this theory through references to the rolling sea and to waves breaking over the decks; while examples of this kind of metaphorical verb substitution are rare in the Black Script, it is not, as some linguists have claimed, a grammatical error in this instance) across the rising sea, sailing toward the dark land ahead with the failing glow behind them (footnote 3: it is not known whether the failing glow refers to the dying fires consuming the city or if, as many scholars believe, this indicates that the ships sailed forth at sunset; see note 7 page 413 for possible reference to the ships' arrival on the mainland at dawn; unfortunately there is no other reference to the time taken for the journey or the speed the ships were able to maintain, which would possibly give some indication as to the distance traveled from the island to the mainland.) ... ' "
Xelloss rattled all of that off without the necessity of pausing for breath. "Fascinating, isn't it?"
Zelgadis only half listened to the words, too distracted by the sight of Xelloss and the sound of his voice to pay serious attention. That was beside the fact that the words themselves were ridiculous.
"Uh. Yes. I mean no. I mean yeah it's fascinating, as scholarly drivel goes."
"I expect Myona's tale will be far more entertaining, if not so academically authoritative," Xelloss said cheerfully.
That reminder was enough to finally yank Zelgadis' attention away from Xelloss and back to the rest of the world at hand.
"Oh damn, I forgot! He's here already? What time is it, anyway?" he muttered as he grabbed his robe more tightly around himself and headed back to the bedroom to get dressed. "He shouldn't have come out in this weather!"
"As a matter of fact, he isn't," Xelloss answered, stopping him in his tracks in the bedroom doorway.
Unreasonably, Zelgadis turned and glared at him. Xelloss shrugged, grinning.
"We didn't specifically invite him to come here, if you remember! In fact we didn't make any definite plans at all."
"Oh. Right." Zelgadis went over and peered out the window beside the door at the streaming gray sleet and fog. "We should get a message to him, then, so he doesn't think he has to come here. Though he does seem to love this horrible weather."
"True, and better he come here than go out and visit his Dream Master on the cliff, I suppose!"
"Yes," Zelgadis agreed with a roll of his eyes. "Though probably Kemara would rather he didn't go out at all... we could go to him instead, I guess," he added uncertainly.
They could, that is, if they knew were Kemara and Myona lived. For all they knew, the family of the High Priestess might have a residence within the temple grounds or anywhere else in the village.
"I could take a message to him," Xelloss said, coming over to join him at the window, "if we really want to cancel our storytelling date."
Zelgadis cringed as a gust of wind battered the door with sleet; it sounded like dozens of tiny gremlins hammering to get in. He wouldn't enjoy being out in such weather, either, but it wouldn't really do him any harm, and it certainly wouldn't bother Xelloss. He sighed.
"I'd hate to make him think we don't really want to hear his stories. In any case, we shouldn't disappoint the Acting High Priestess, should we?" he said.
"Shall we go and find him, then? And, if by chance he doesn't want to tell us his stories today after all, I can read more from Melly's wonderful book to everyone instead!"
Zelgadis grimaced as he went to get dressed.
"There's a limit to how much agony we're all willing to endure, Xelloss, even for you!"
He heard Xelloss giggle as, once again, he began the search for his scattered articles of clothing.
____________________________________

This storm was nearly as bad as the one on the night they'd spent in the woods after leaving Mystport, Zelgadis decided. If it wasn't quite as wet as that, it was only because of the ice mixed in with the rain. He looked out from one of the covered walkways and saw the village and the bay all shrouded with of swirling sheets of rain and sleet, the ocean the same steel gray as the sky except for the streaks of white-capped waves. It was no wonder the Temple sent most of its students home at this time of year if this was normal weather for the place.
He cursed as he wrestled with the wind for control over his cloak. Sleet pinged off his wire hair, making a musical sound which he did not appreciate. Naturally, Xelloss grinned his way through all of it. In truth, the weather was no more than an inconvenience to them. Someone as small and slim as Myona would be blown off his feet by some of these gusts of wind, Zelgadis thought. He'd be flying whether he wanted to or not.
A very few people scurried along the temple paths, keeping to the covered walkways as much as possible. Even the most weather-hardy types of beast folk clung to cloaks and hoods with their heads down like bulls charging against the wind. He spotted Kervan striding along almost doubled over against the wind and rain. Zelgadis sympathized; apparently the man was just desperate enough for breakfast to run to the dining hall and back. Unfortunately he was too far away across the tangle of paths for them to call out to him and ask for directions.
The only other familiar face they saw was Shuno, who came rambling toward them right out in the open, oblivious as ever to the biting wind and sleet and everything else except the object in his hands. This new magical gadget looked like a chimerical blend of a sextant, an abacus, and an hourglass, but it was thankfully free of any clattering jewelry. However, like his failed attempt at a replica of the Shimerian relics, this one also apparently refused to do what he expected it to do. He turned in all directions, sometimes walking backwards even as he kept moving toward them, and alternately peered through a scope mounted on the thing and checked the abacus part of it, frowning at it all the while. At one point he aimed it in their direction, but apparently it looked right through them.
"Not enough data, why is there not enough data?" Zelgadis heard him mutter. "Is it the weather? Atmospheric interference? Needs to clear off. This thing calibrated and tested before hallow night."
He went on grumbling until he nearly ran head-first into them, and would have if Zelgadis hadn't stepped aside at the last moment.
Zelgadis would have been perfectly happy to continue to be ignored except for the fact that they still had no idea where to find the High Priestess. Of course, there was no guarantee Shuno would know, unless he'd found some reason to make a scientific study of the subject.
"Good morning, Shuno-kun!" Xelloss said when he was almost past them.
Shuno stopped and blinked a couple of times.
"Oh. Hello."
"What's good about it?" Zelgadis muttered at Xelloss, clutching his cloak and hood around himself. He gave the young man a furious scowl as if the weather was his fault. It was wasted; Shuno was already studying his gadget again.
"On your way to the Dawn Pavilion?" Xelloss asked pleasantly. He glanced across the hillside in the direction of the place. "Or do they cancel the recitations on account of bad weather?"
Zelgadis squinted through the sleet in the same direction. As far as he could see, Shuno was heading in the wrong direction for that, but the scientist just shrugged.
"This isn't bad," he said. He looked around rather as if Xelloss had just woken him up in the middle of sleep walking, finally fixing his gaze on the path he would have to take to get to the Pavilion. "It's the Drowned Seas passage today."
"Yes, so you mentioned," Xelloss said.
Zelgadis rolled his eyes. Evidently even Shuno didn't listen to Shuno.
"Are you saying this is typical weather for this time of year?" he asked. "I thought there would only be ice or snow like this higher up in the mountains."
"We get snow," Shuno said. "Sometimes just ice. The cold tide stream shifts to the east this time of year. That brings storms ashore, then they get stopped by the mountains, so all the moisture gets released here. The tide stream keeps the air cold. In some years, Wyndcliff gets nearly as much snow as the high ranges of the North."
"You mean it gets even worse than this? Lovely!" Zelgadis said with a grimace.
"Something to look forward to! Maybe we'll be snowed in at our little cottage someday!" Xelloss added cheerfully.
That... was not such an unpleasant thought, Zelgadis decided.
Shuno shrugged and began to raise the bizarre instrument to his eye again.
"Say, Shuno-kun," Xelloss said quickly, "could you give us directions to the home of the High Priestess? I assume there's a rectory or some residence, either in or near the Temple?"
"Delora's house?" Shuno said vaguely. He turned and gazed down the hillside, shielding his eyes from the sleet with a hand to his brow. "It's, let's see..."
"We're looking for Kemara-sama, actually," Xelloss clarified.
"Same thing," Shuno said with another shrug. "There." He pointed toward the far corner of the temple grounds, on up the road beyond where they'd entered the Temple's main gate. "That tower on the other side of the wall. That's their house."
Zelgadis squinted through the icy rain. Just beyond the wall and the hedge of dark trees that marked the Temple boundary, he spotted the black peak of a narrow, conical roof.
"Thank you," he said gruffly to Shuno, but the boy didn't even notice. His attention was already back on his gadget as it rattled in a gust of wind.
"Huh," Shuno said, and continued on his way without another glance at them.
Xelloss and Zelgadis went on their way as well, picking out a winding path down toward the temple gate.
"You're going to have fun teaching that one anything," Zelgadis said with a grin after they were out of earshot.
Xelloss gave him a severely doubtful look and sighed, but then a sly smile slowly crossed his face. "Well, I'll just have to make as much fun of it as I can, won't I?"
"I'm sure you'll find your ways to do so," Zelgadis replied, but he couldn't manage to feel bad for the oblivious scientist.
By the time they got to the Gate, Zelgadis was thoroughly drenched and bedraggled. Apparently as a show of sympathy, Xelloss allowed himself to be drenched as well. Water dripped from his hair into his eyes and from the hem of his cloak. Zelgadis smirked when he noticed this. Xelloss pouted at him.
"If I were truly human, I imagine I'd be craving a hot bath and a warm drink by now," Xelloss said. He held up his arm and watched tiny ice pellets land on his sleeve.
"Even being only one third human, that still sounds good," Zelgadis sighed. "This chill is even getting through to my bones," he added with a shake of his shoulders.
"Hm," Xelloss said. His darkly glittering eyes followed the outlines of Zel's body where the damp clothes clung to him. "A hot bath and a warm chimera sounds even better! Perhaps we should have just sent our regrets and stayed home after all!"
"We've come this far," Zelgadis said, brushing off the suggestion in spite of the warmth it inspired. "Let's just find this tower."
They stepped out into the street they'd been following when they'd arrived in the village. Zelgadis noticed the change in magical atmosphere as soon as they passed through the Gate, but the weather was just as bad as it was inside.
-----------
He knew they'd found the right house as soon as they saw it, not only because of the tower roof they'd seen earlier but because it was certainly the largest and strangest house in Wyndcliff. It was tucked back between the south wall of the Temple and the hill behind the village, facing the bay across a sloping lawn and garden.
It would have fit in well as an eccentric but modest home among those built by prosperous sea merchants in a larger town like Mystport, but by local standards it was a mansion. It was built of stone, tall and narrow, and in fact it seemed almost to have sprouted from the hillside in fits and starts, some four stories more or less of gable peaks and porches, chimneys and high arched windows, with the narrow tower on the southwest side rising above the rest.
The bay window and a porch on the first floor looked out over the village. A narrow terrace with a wrought iron rail under a tall peaked roof above would provide a fine view of the bay and the wide sea beyond, like the captain's walk on those sea merchant's homes. However the tower windows looked toward the hooked point and the southern coastline, all currently shrouded in icy mist. A curtain fluttered in one of the curved windows of the highest tower room.
"Aha," Zelgadis said. "Care to bet that's Myona's room?"
"I would be surprised it if isn't! And if so, it appears we're here in time to keep him from coming out in the storm to find us."
Zelgadis had barely lifted the ornate brass knocker on the front door before it opened, and the Acting High Priestess welcomed them in with a sigh of relief.
"Xelloss-sama, Zelgadis-san! I was just thinking to send a message to you. Please do come in, and welcome! I'm sorry Myona is late coming to you today; he's probably not even awake yet, though that's on my orders," she said, as she led them inside. "He's usually very punctual when he has to be some place, even if he grumbles about it... May I take your cloak to dry by the fire, or, well, I suppose that's not really necessary for you is it, Xelloss-sama?"
She stopped short in the hallway with Zelgadis' dripping cloak across her arm. "Oh! You are awake."
They looked past her to see Myona standing just inside a doorway further along the hall. He did indeed have the air of someone who had just awoken, or not even quite awoken yet, though he was dressed in his student's robes and his dark hair was combed into some semblance of order. He was even more pale than usual, making his eyes look huge and onyx-black as he slowly blinked at them.
"I'm awake," he said softly.
His gaze shifted to his sister, warily as it seemed to Zelgadis, especially when Kemara's frown deepened noticeably.
"Well, you probably shouldn't be," she scolded, "But since you are, you'd best come in and welcome our guests, hm?"
Myona didn't seem to mind the sharpness in her voice. He came forward slowly and bowed to the two of them.
"Welcome to our home, Xelloss-dono, Zelgadis-sama. It's our pleasure to serve you here."
"And thank you for coming all this way to save Myona the trip in the storm," Kemara added firmly, with a raised eyebrow at her brother.
"We've come to hear Myona's stories about the ruins," Zelgadis explained, smiling to lighten the unexplained tension he sensed. "I don't know if Myona mentioned that the Mala has invited us to do some research in his library, and Myona is welcome to come back with us, but we agreed not to go out there today because of this wretched weather."
Unfortunately, that information had the opposite effect.
"Ah! No, we hadn't spoken of that," Kemara said, with an even more pointed glance at the boy. "I'm glad to hear it, though, and glad that Myona can continue to be of service to you."
Myona nodded vaguely, not seeming to notice her clipped tone of voice. He tipped his head to the side and looked up at Zelgadis curiously.
"You want to hear my story now?" he asked with a hint of a smile. Two spots of color appeared in his pale cheeks.
"Yes, if that's all right?" Zelgadis said. Myona nodded again, but Zelgadis looked toward Kemara with the question. "If we didn't come at a bad time?" he added.
Kemara bit her lip, but after a moment she nodded.
"Yes, please do stay and listen to the tale. In fact it's a perfect day for storytelling, isn't it? I'll hang Zelgadis-sama's cloak to dry and bring some tea. Myona, make sure our guests are comfortable, please."
She hustled pat Myona a swish of robes and disappeared through another door at the far end of the hallway. Myona stood silently just inside the doorway, regarding them with the same vague smile. For a moment, Zelgadis wondered if he'd even heard what his sister had asked him to do, but then he gave them another polite bow and ushered them into a parlor.
It was a cozy room full of overstuffed chairs and a couple of sofas arranged for conversation, with those bay windows he'd noticed from outside that would have a fine view of the harbor on a clearer day. Every table and shelf in the room was cluttered with nick-knacks and trinkets: painted vases, lamps with fringed and beaded shades, embroidered cushions, gilded figurines and carved bone in the shapes of many kinds of creatures, ornately framed miniature paintings and cameos, candlesticks and ornamental weapons and charms. Some of the objects looked to be made by the local artisans whose carvings and weavings must be the trade of the village, but Zelgadis recognized many of the items as craft work from lands he'd visited in his far-flung travels. Either visitors to the temple were generously inclined to bring gifts for the High Priestesses, or someone in Kemara's family was more widely traveled than he would have guessed.
Myona gestured them to a couple of comfortable chairs by the fire, then pulled a stool over to sit with his own back toward a corner of the fireplace. The flames lent a rosy glow to one side of his face, but the other side was ghostly white as he fought back a yawn.
"Myona-kun," Zelgadis said quietly. "You did go directly home after you left us yesterday, didn't you?"
Myona blinked wide-eyed, as if coming fully awake for the first time. He bit his lip and ducked his head, and mumbled something so softly that even Zelgadis' sharp ears couldn't catch the words.
"Oh dear," Xelloss said. "I hope you didn't worry Kemara-sama by going out in the storm last night?"
With his head still bowed, most of Myona's face was hidden from view, but that odd little smile returned. It was gone when he lifted his head a moment later.
"I... the storm wasn't all that bad, you know, and I... there might not be another chance for... if the weather keeps on... if it gets icy, then.... "
Zelgadis sighed and shook his head, but he didn't say any more about it, and neither did Xelloss. It wasn't their place to scold the boy about his wandering habits.
"I hope that other idiot got away from there before it got this bad," Zelgadis muttered.
He thought he saw Myona's lip curl up a little more at the corner, but Kemara returned just then bearing a tray of cakes, along with cups and a pot of hot tea, and Myona jumped up to help her set them out for their guests. Once they were settled with tea and cakes, the boy sat quietly on his stool again with his eyes closed.
Silence fell, as if at an unspoken signal, and Myona opened his eyes and looked up at them -- or rather, looked past them at some unknown vision -- and began to speak in a clear, quiet, faraway voice.
"So it is said: there was a time when this narrow land between the sea and the mountains was teaming with life. Humans and beast-kind lived in harmony together, as they had in ages past as long as any could remember. But in time of this tale, after the long peace, monsters began to appear, summoned forth from the spirit realm by the Hellmaster to plague the peaceful countries of the world.
"In those dark days there were few who could wield magic, and so fear and superstition reigned. Not knowing the nature of the demons, the people of one village sought to appease them with worship and gifts, with praise and with offerings of the harvest, treasures from the sea and from the land that they tended. The demons laughed at them and thanked them for their offerings with payments of pain and death.
"Seeing this, the people of this place in their desperation offered up lives from among their own kind. This gift the demons accepted gladly, and demanded more of the same. So the people built an altar on which to make their gruesome offerings. This shrine to the demons became known in whispers across the land as the place where fires burned living flesh, where blood flowed like the mountain cascades into the sea, where the sound of screams rose high above the pounding of the waves.
"Those among the humans who knew some little magic devised spells to bind the sacrificial victims, and spells to prolong their miserable lives in torment for the demons' pleasure. Amused, well pleased and well fed with these feasts of misery, the demons spared the ones who made such offerings to them so that they could bring more.
"And by this, the first great spells of sorcery were created as sacrificial rituals and curses and pacts made with the demons, made out of the evil and fear in human hearts."
Myona paused there, his gaze unfocused and an odd, dreamy half-smile on his face. In the moment of silence, Zelgadis remembered the conversation he'd had with Xelloss on the day - not as long ago as it seemed already - when they'd arrived at Mystport. He glared at Xelloss, suddenly suspicious that the mazoku had somehow shared this unpleasant theory of the origins of magic with the boy, but Xelloss merely gave him a sidelong glance from narrowed eyes, then turned his full attention back to Myona.
Zelgadis relented. He couldn't really blame Xelloss for spreading the idea, he supposed. He knew well enough that humans sometimes chose to worship Lord Ruby Eye and his five Lords. It was just such a group of demon worshippers who had unfortunately gained possession of a Claire Bible manuscript that had brought them across each other's path for the first time, long before Zelgadis had any inkling of Xelloss' true nature.
But then, he wondered, if such a sacrificial altar had existed on the point to the south of the village that long ago, would that explain the dark aura that remained over the place more than a thousand years later? That was an unpleasant thought, for several reasons.
But there was more to the tale than that. Myona lowered his eyes and continued.
"The people of this place became raiders, riding across the mountains and sailing along the coasts in search of victims to feed their sacrificial fires. When unwilling sacrifices were scarce, they chose by lot amongst themselves. Some went proudly to their deaths, believing they gave their lives for the good of the rest, while others wailed and cursed evil fate at the hands of their own kin. Some grew hardened hearts, lacking either joy or sympathy, and others' souls became warped so that they delighted in the screams of their sacrificial victims as if they were of demon-kind themselves. Many made the offering of their own tears in guilt and shame and horror at the deeds they saw themselves perform, little aware that the demons fed on these as readily as they did on the screams of their victims.
"The rumor of this ever-varied feast spread among the demon-kind, and reached the ears of one Bosasillzogu, a mazoku of middle rank in the days before the great Retainers of the Five Lords were made."
Myona's gaze flickered to Xelloss then, dark eyes shining as if the mazoku priest was the most wonderful thing ever devised. Xelloss beamed at him, all the more brightly when Zelgadis snorted softly.
Myona looked away again and continued. His voice was a little stronger now; he seemed to be warmed up to his tale, pleased by the reaction of at least one member of his audience.
"Bosasillzogu happened upon the place at the time of a great and terrible sacrifice, when the diabolical leader of the demon worshippers had devised a gruesome game for the pleasure of the demons who fed on agony and despair. The mazoku watched with admiration and delight as the demon worshippers goaded their human victims to inflict injury upon themselves under the threat of seeing their captive kin dismembered and devoured instead.
" 'Pluck out your own eyes with your own two hands,' they said, 'unless you wish to see us crack their bones, rend them limb from limb and offer their beating hearts on skewers for our demon friends to feed upon!' So the captors demanded of one of their miserable victims. And then, when he had done as they asked and held his own two eyeballs dripping with his own blood in his hands, he heard them laugh. 'Now, just as we promised, you will not see us do all that we described,' they cried.
"And so they did exactly what they had said, and indeed, he did not see it, but he could not close his ears to the sounds of their screams, the cracking of bones, the slurping of demon tongues, the crunch of monstrous teeth devouring the flesh of his kin."
Zelgadis heard a gagging sound and realized had come from his own throat. He stared at Myona with his mouth hanging open, aghast at the strangely soft-voiced description of such inhuman torture.
"My my, Myona-kun," Xelloss said very softly, sounding quite a bit more pleasantly impressed than Zelgadis felt.
Zelgadis glanced across at Kemara. She gave them a crooked smile and a shrug, her lower lip caught between her teeth, as if to apologize for her brother's gruesome imagination. Myona glanced at her as well and ducked his head a little, but then went on in his strangely soft, clear voice.
"Engorged on such a feast of pain and horror and despair, Bosasillzogu's dark spirit swelled. Flooded with power, he roared his pleasure as the sacrificial rite reached a crescendo amid screams of pain, and the blood-spattered stones turned black under a black sky."
"So pleased with this offering and the power it gave to him, Bosasillzogu craved to have all of it to himself from that day onward. He guarded the humans in their raids by land and sea, and he defeated and devoured all other demons who came near the place. The kings of the nearby lands did not dare send their armies against the worshippers of Bosasillzogu, but it is said that some of them sent their prisoners in tribute to be sacrificed.
"The villagers built a huge shrine to honor their patron demon, and placed their blood-soaked altar in a grove of pillars of jet-black stone. Bosasillzogu grew huge on the feasts of misery they presented to him. His astral body swelled and his physical form bloated to an immense bulk that sprawled among the black pillars, and he rose like a great storm cloud to block all the light of sun and stars from the cursed village.
"There came a day when the influx of miasma was so rich and dark that Bosasillzogu felt as if he would burst from it. And indeed, the force of power swelling in him became too great for one being to contain. While his worshippers laughed and their victims screamed and begged for death, one of the monster's arms began to writhe of its own accord. With a sound of flesh ripping apart, soon it began to tear itself away from the bulk of the monster's body."
Zelgadis pressed himself back in his chair, one hand covering his face, recoiling from the image of the great, overgrown mazoku splitting apart like an overripe fruit exploding in the hot sun.
"Oh dear," he heard Xelloss murmur. Through his fingers he caught a glimpse of Xelloss sitting forward in his chair but with a delicate finger to his own lips. It looked like exploding mazoku was a little bit much even for his warped sensibilities.
That didn't make Zelgadis feel much better, especially since it seemed to encourage Myona to embellish the horrific scene even further.
"The severed limb flopped around Bosasillzogu, a live thing trying to walk without legs; it pulsed and bulged as if it wanted to sprout limbs of its own. With a gurgling sound, a slit opened at the end of it, revealing rows of teeth and a lolling tongue that spattered the monster-worshippers with acid saliva, and then eagerly lapped up their screams of pain. More pain, more agony, fed more power to Bosasillzogu. The bloated monster let out a great groan as another limb wiggled itself asunder. This one sprouted legs and arms and claws, huge curved claws that flailed and tore the worshippers' flesh as they fled from one monster only to be faced with another. Laughter chortled from its unseen mouth as their blood spattered it like rain from the black sky.
"Still another lumpen shape broke loose from Bosasillzogu, and another," Myona continued, his voice risen to a breathless rush of words. "and still more followed, bursting from their elder's squelching body as he continued to grow on each new wave of miasma, and each one swelled into a monster more hideous and deadly than the last. The writhing mass of them covered the ground, slithered around the great pillars of the shrine, fed upon the horror and despair of the helpless humans, greedily devoured even the pain of Bosasillzogu himself as they tore themselves apart from his huge, misshapen form.
"The great demon lurched around in a frenzy, overwhelmed by miasma from the dying rages of his worshippers, who had now become the victims of his own vicious offspring. In his flailing rage and confusion, he blasted the walls of his own shrine and trampled the bodies of his followers, unmercifully putting them out of the last of their misery."
The boy paused there; dark eyes wide and staring, mouth hanging open to catch his own breath.
Zelgadis could only stare at him, glad he'd stopped but unable to say anything, uncertain if the tale ended there or if there was more horror more yet to come. Then Myona blinked, and his gaze flickered, focusing for a moment on Xelloss, an eyebrow twitching upward. Zelgadis realized, as he glanced aside at Xelloss as well, that the storyteller was gauging the reaction of his most valued listener. Had he really set out to horrify even the mazoku?
He might have succeeded, or so it appeared; Xelloss peered out from behind fingers covering his face now. Ah, but he was peering aside at Zelgadis, and only partially hiding a sickened, crooked grin. Zelgadis held one hand covering his mouth and the other clutching himself around the middle, trying to quell the sick horror inspired not only by the tale but by the telling. A tale embellished to new heights of horribleness, he realized suddenly, just so one of his listeners could enjoy the misery of another.
They were ganging up on him. Zelgadis clenched his fist, glared at Xelloss - because, unlike the mazoku in the story, he knew this one enjoyed anger more than fear. But then he could only grimace and offer what might well be a compliment to this particular storyteller.
"That's horrible," he growled. Sure enough, the corner of Myona's lip twitched upward.
"What happened when they ran out of worshippers, I wonder?" Xelloss mused, catching Myona's eye.
The boy shook his head, slowly, as if in deep regret.
"It is not known what became of Bosasillzogu and his many offspring. His temple was decimated, his worshippers and sacrificial victims alike were trampled, squashed or devoured, or incinerated in the final explosion of his power, an explosion so great it left nothing but a crater where the village had been, a hole at the edge of the land which the sea rushed in to fill. Few survived to tell the tale, and none remembered the end of it, the final moments of the conflagration shrouded by horror too great for their minds to bear.
"So it is not known whether Bosasillzogu still roams the earth, or whether his offspring were some of the great influx of monsters whose presence in the world awakened the shard of the Demon Lord from its slumber a thousand years ago. It may be that the great, greedy Bosasillzogu was reduced to a shadow of his former self by the sudden birth of so many offspring. Perhaps he has been waiting, gathering strength on the astral plane, until the day he can return to the site of his ancient shrine and feed upon the fear and pain of mortal lives once more.
"No more this tale can tell," Myona intoned, and bowed his head and fell silent.
Zelgadis let out a sight of relief and didn't even bother to hide it, especially when Kemara did the same.
Xelloss, however, had tipped his head to the side and seemed to be listening still. A second later, Zelgadis and Kemara both gasped back in the breath of relief they'd just let go, but so did Myona, jumping half off his stool when sudden loud banging shook the house, rattling the nick-knacks and the bead-fringed lamps.
It took Zelgadis a moment and another breath to realize the sound was of feet pounding on the porch and hands banging on the front door, and then urgent voices called out.
"Kemara-sama, High Priestess-sama, come quickly please! A healer is needed! A man has fallen from the bridge!"
The shock that ran through the room was so sharp even Zelgadis could sense it easily, and none of them more frozen in horror than the implacable teller of horrible tales, Myona.

to be continued
- 18
- 19
- 20
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Birth Rite