by Billy Wong

She wiped blood from her eyes and looked to where he and his opponent had been fighting, and saw two distinct sets of tracks leading away. It looked like one man had tried to flee, and the other had taken up the chase. She couldn't tell who had done what. She hoped Timmy could keep himself alive until she caught up. Hastily, she followed the trail.

Her search led her to the edge of a gentle stream, where both trails ended. She could see a shallow depression in the mud, where it seemed a body had fallen. Damnit . . . if Timmy had won the fight, he wouldn't have tried to hide his trail. At least it seemed the enemy would have wanted to take him alive, for whatever ritual he intended. Still, the ritual was today. How would Rose ever find them in time?

She walked back to where she had fought the men, hoping the one with the half-severed arm might still live. Unfortunately, he was gone. She rummaged through their belongings, hoping to find some clue as to where they might take a prisoner to be sacrificed. Nothing.

The feeling of helplessness growing in her mind, Rose decided to walk ahead to where she had heard the men talking before the attack. Even there, she found little clue of where Timmy could have been taken. Then, she decided to climb the tall ash and look around. From the top of the great tree, she could see quite a ways, and quickly noticed a decaying pyramid-shaped building not too far away. She wasn't sure if Timmy would be there, but she figured she had to check it out. As little as she knew, it was her best bet. She wiped her bloody brow again and headed off.

#

As she approached the building, Rose felt a growing sense of dread which paradoxically made her more hopeful that Timmy would be here. Clearly, it was some sort of ancient temple, with carvings of an insectlike visage adorning many surfaces. She heard a loud voice coming from within, and followed its sound inside.

She walked into the central chamber to see the blonde man standing over Timmy, who lay trussed up on a stone table near a large opening in the floor. Timmy's captor held the glowing knife over him, chanting in some language Rose did not understand. "Get away from him," she said.

He looked up and smiled. "You shouldn't have warned me you were here. I may be chanting, but that's just a formality. All I really have to do is stab him." He plunged the knife down.

Rose threw her axe, and he screamed as it severed his wrist. The knife chattered to the ground, and Rose rushed to Timmy's side. As she undid his ropes, she asked, "Why did he want you, anyway?"

Timmy was silent, but the cultist gasped, "I needed the heart's blood of a virgin sacrifice."

"I thought you said you weren't a virgin," Rose said.

"Rose, help!"

The man had retrieved the knife with his remaining hand, and lunged up to throw it at Timmy's chest. Rose jumped in front of it, blocking it with her shield. But the man darted in after his throw, stabbing with the knife still in his hand. Rose glanced at the fallen blade. A plain dagger! Before she could react, the glowing knife plunged between her ribs on the left side.

She elbowed her attacker in the side of the head, knocking him away, and collapsed on her face. "Rose?!" Timmy asked in a frightened voice.

For a moment, she could do nothing but cringe and moan, the agony in her chest like molten lava eating away at her from within. "Stop him!" she rasped.

Timmy ran at the fallen man, who was trying to rise, and kicked the knife from his hand. The bloodied blade, now glowing a darker green, skidded across the floor and fell over the edge of the pit. The man only laughed. "You have stopped nothing. One virgin's blood is as good as another. Azatharaxus rises!"

"Aza-what?" Timmy said.

Suddenly, the whole chamber began to shake. Curled up on the ground, Rose gasped as the tremors disturbed her damaged body. A column of green light shot up from the pit, and something huge rose in its midst.

"Azatharaxus wakes! Azatharaxus lives!" the ecstatic cultist cried. He tried to stand up, but the loss of blood from his hand had weakened him too much and he collapsed.

"Gods, not now . . ." Rose whispered.

"Get up, Rose! Come on! We've got to get out of here!"

She stared at the creature dragging itself up from the pit, an abomination which drove daggers of terror into her heart. Its visible portion alone towered over her; it must have been over twenty feet tall, if its proportions were humanlike. Its head was like that of an immense beetle, with two sets of jaws--one flat and horizontal like a manta's, but full of small, sharp teeth; and the other a pair of huge mandibles like an insect's. Long, flexible tentacles passed for its arms, and its apelike upper torso was covered in red scales. What little could be seen of its body below the navel resembled the sleek form of a hairless weasel.

"Azatharaxus has come again," the cultist said in a failing voice. "Fear him . . . worship him." Then he closed his eyes and was still, the blood flow from his stump slowly coming to a halt.