Artam walked towards the temple with steady steps, and thrilling thoughts. The gift was in him and the thought of its discovery was a bit more than exciting.
He walked shoulder to shoulder with the other slaves, yet none could have guessed he was a warg, skin changer, an abomination.
He felt their vestiges and their minds. They were like pits; he could hop from his pit into theirs and fight the owner for control.
The very idea had a certain sinister excitement. Still, he tried not to show it. Practically every priest and religion had condemned wargs.
If you were suspected of being a warg; you'd be killed. Irrespective of your origin.
Whether Naldean, Amarakian, Lucedonian, Gaulish… and so on. It didn't matter, you'd be tried and executed.
And not in a painless way.
The pain before the death was part of the punishment. And Artam was positive he wouldn't want to suffer such a plight.
There was a rustle of wings, and Vyde came into view. Soaring high up in the air, marking the movements of the men below.
A sudden thought surfaced in Artam's mind, and he didn't know what demon of mischief had possessed him. But he acted on it anyway.
One moment he was walking among the men, on his way to the temple. The next instant he was in the crow, soaring with his cousins.
The thoughts of hunger and mischief invaded his thoughts.
Vyde, Artam clicked in annoyance, then repressed the crow. Giving himself more control.
Much better,
He flew a bit lower, closer to the men. But not too close, he wouldn't want to lose his only skin now.
He was above one of the wretched cursed slaves, Roi, his name was Roi.
Then he released his droppings over the wretch's head. Still warm and almost liquid, it splatted on the wretch's head.
"What in Guluny's wrath?" the boy said in disbelief.
That's what you get. It felt right, doing something so wrong.
Then he fled back into his skin.
The sight of the boy and his company cursing the crow while he tried to get rid of its droppings was intoxicatingly comedic.
A chuckle escaped his lips, despite the constant suppression.
Bad mistake.
The others turned to look at him, malice laced their eyes.
Shit!
Then one of them turned to the crow, then back to him. Jaymes, his name was Jaymes. He recognized the crow.
Then he whispered something to the rest of them, and a silent promise was made then with their eyes.
I fucked up.
They said nothing and did nothing.
Eventually, they reached one of the many temples in the city. As he had done many times before, Artam moved to the canopy– where Naldeans were given to worship.
Half a dozen minutes later, they had begun prayers.
The first was prayed to Amarak the serpent of war, the Lar of every Amarakian.
And it is law that even non-citizens must pray to him as long as you were in the domain of the empire.
The second prayer was to King Guluny the Flame.
The imperial church mandated the first and second prayers;
Long ago that old priest had told him everyone in the empire was required to cultivate the genius of the king.
So he was forced to learn the prayer by memory.
Then the last was to their personal Lar Or the Lar of your tribe.
Artam prayed to the crow. It was his and every Naldean's Lar.
The Lar of Death.
Then the priest began reading a scripture from the sixteen texts.
'You'll learn the sixteen texts, you lazy good for nothing.' He still remembered the old priest hammering his head as he was forced to read.
It was said the sixteen texts were as old as the immortal king himself. 'Seventeen Hundred years old! That's how old they are.' The joy the old priest would give off when he went off explaining about one piece of history or the other.
They were written by a renowned monk– Melchizedek. Seventeen hundred years ago, he wrote the deeds of the fifteen heroes that defeated the cruel thieving gods before their image became warped and they became Lars.
The sixteenth text was written by the imperial scribe three hundred years later; it spoke of Amarak and his exploits in subduing Naldea.
After his death, he also became a Lar… The Lar of War.
'Justice, Warrior, War, Love, Labor, Honor, Truth, Heart, Peace, Mysteries or Knowledge, Storm, Beast, Smith, Moon, Sea, and Lastly Death.' They all correspond to Heroes in the god era.
It was believed every life had a quest, and the Lars watched over everyone, and judged them at the end of their lives.
The Lar of Death is only worshipped by Naldeans because he was known as Nathan Sky Breaker!
The treacherous bastard that betrayed the other heroes in pursuit of power. He and his men conspired to overthrow humanity and become gods themselves.
The Naldeans and Yeetheens joined them and founded Naldea. Until it was eventually destroyed after three hundred years.
Sometimes Artam would curse them, and their greed. Why had they done it if not for their blinding greed?
It was said, the other Lars had made Nathan the Lar of Death, he would guide the dead on their journey on his pale mare, either to paradise or to damnation.
But he would never be allowed either of the two.
Forced to work for eternity, that sounded abysmally horrible.
Ring! The sound of bells ringing threw Artam out of his thoughts. He did a bow in sync with the rest and stood up to leave.
"Nice trick you did with your crow, Murmer."
Artam lifted his eyes at the sullen voice.
"Mind if I teach you another?" He replied.
Roi loomed over him, thin and gaunt with a lean face, with three of his friends behind him. He knew Jaymes, a hateful ugly boy with an unpleasant voice. The others called him Jam because he was caught flinching jam from the kitchen store.
The snitch
The other two; He'd forgotten their names. He hardly ever spoke to them, if he could help it.
They were brutes and bullies, without a thimble of wit between them.
Soon the canopy was empty, save for them.
Artam stood strong. "I'll teach your whore of a mother if you ask nicely."
Roi was seventeen and a head taller than Artam. All four of them were bigger than he was, but they did not scare him.
He would beat every one of them.
"We asked nicely now, didn't we?" one of them said.
"You did." Artam lunged forward, he landed a solid punch on one, and escaped the grasp of another.
Then grabbed Roi by the throat with such ferocity that he lifted him off the floor.
Jaymes seized Artam by the arm, the other slammed a fist into his gut.
Artam felt his innards turn, and he released Roi.
Roi staggered back, rubbing the marks Artam's fingers had left on his neck.
He glanced at Jaymes and nodded a signal, and Jaymes twisted Artam's arm behind his back.
"Careful he might bite," Jaymes cackled.
"Real wise of you to try to fight four of us." Roi sniggered.
A nameless one stepped close.
"The little cunt Murmer has a mouth," he said, "You use that mouth to suck them lords cocks? Explains why it's so foul."
He had pig eyes, small and shiny.
"How does the bastard and pale face's cock taste like? You must have served them good with the way you go lording over everyone." He laughed.
Artam twisted like an eel and slammed a heel down across the instep of the boy holding him.
There was a sudden cry of pain, and he was free.
He flew at pig eyes, knocked him backward, and landed on his chest with both hands on his throat, slamming his head against the solid ground.
Roi and Jaymes pulled him off, throwing him roughly to the ground. The other began to kick at him, and then the rest joined.
Artam was rolling away from the blows then he tapped into his ability, trying to sense for Vyde. But he was too far, and his head was throbbing clouded by rage and pain.
I'll wear their skins instead, the insidious thought seemed so right at the moment.
Roi was the biggest and stupidest, he'll be the best.
He reached into Roi's vestige, ready to jump when a booming voice cut through the thrill of the chaos.
"STOP THIS! NOW!"
Artam pulled himself to his feet. Ilda stood glowering at them.