Capítulo 131: Aurion 2
293AC
The crackling of dying embers and the scent of wet blood and rot filled the streets as he marched through the wreckage of the high-city of Norvos.
His horse's footsteps sloshed in the mud of the late-year rains that fed the Noyne and had come to accompany his army as he took the city.
The lower city had surrendered almost as soon as the siege began, and for that, they were spared, turned to a camp for his forces, and made to wait just as he did for the slaughter to come. The upper city, however, had been more difficult.
It sat in a commanding position atop the great hill of Norvos, the tallest in the region, ringed by high stone walls too thick for siege weapons to damage. In normal times it was impregnable, guarded by the Holy Guard.
But they were gone now, as were her armies, and her men.
Norvos was like an insect with a great, thick shell, but no teeth.
And as such, he could roll his battering ram right up the sinner's stairs. A great steel goats head was at its front, as was appropriate.
It took it eighteen hours to break the gate open once it was locked into position, but once the gate was down? Once the hardened shell of Norvos was split even a little bit?
That was when the slaughter began.
The first in were the heavy foot of Qohor, the Sons of the Black Goat, clad head to toe in Lamellar that covered every inch of their flesh. Their helmets were carved into the Visage of their god. What puny missiles the few nobles foolish enough to remain in the city could marshall against them slid off of their armor, like rain. They had advanced implacably, filling the streets of the High-City with the blood of its inhabitants, before setting alight their palaces. Crossbows kept watch at the gate and walls, ensuring that not a soul escaped from the beleaguered ruins. All here were to bleed for the pleasure of the Black Goat who they called Demon, and there would be no need for survivors to spread the word of his victory.
When the city itself was wrought and barren, the eyes of the attackers turned towards the Great Fortress Temple of the Bearded God. The Priests had barricaded themselves inside, along with whatever remained of the city's nobility.
Through day and night, his men had hacked there way into the barricaded doors and windows of the temple, foot by foot they had cleansed it, slaughtering or capturing what few remained.
It was only now, with the city already his, that he deigned to ride through the gates atop Ganemon, his favored Black Charger. He surveyed the wreckage, few buildings were left standing, save for the temple itself, which was sooty and blackened. He made his way there at a leisurely pace, his retinue following behind him silently in the pouring rain.
As they reached the shattered temple gates, he dismounted, saluting the Son of the Black Goat who kept watch at the door.
"Is everything ready for the consecration?" He asked his blood already beginning to race in his veins as he felt the heady rush of his nearing victory. Not just over the city, but over its god.
"Yes, my Lord Aurion, the captives are prepared in the great chamber, and all the other idols have been destroyed as you ordered."
"Excellent." He smiled, turning to Haemen, his Uncle, and a priest of the Black Goat. "Are you prepared to do your part Uncle?"
The old man nodded, raising his hands in a gesture of blessing, for he had taken a vow of silence like all of his retinue. It was his uncle who had suggested the ritual, drawn from the most ancient records of Qohor, and it was his Uncle's assurance that had given him the courage to pursue it. A simple note written in the old man's hand had prompted him to back Volantis in the first place.
R'hllor burns in the east, and Thunder shakes the West. The Black Goat rises too, win her favor now, and you shall have it forever.
Aurion frowned at the rusk underneath his helmet, for the ritual was a deadly one, and it seemed more so deadly the closer he came to performing it. Still, he could not turn back now. "Very well then, lead me to this chamber."
The Son nodded, and he moved with his retinue, following the man into the fortress temple.
It lived up to its name, with interior-wall behind interior-wall, all holding maze-like passages within them. The priesthood had clearly once taken fine care of the place, but now their hair rugs were burnt, and their symbols smashed.
As he entered the great chamber, he marveled at the tall Hairy Cyclops that must be the birder God, who the priests never spoke of. A six-armed stone giant that towered over the room with a leering face and a preponderance of body-hair, he seemed to glare down in anguish at what had become of his followers, his one gigantic eye squinted tightly in what might be pain.
On the floor before him, the Priests and other captives from Norvos were kept, naked and shaved from the top of their head to the bottom of their feet, so that not a hair was visible amongst the lot of them as they mewled and twitched on the ground. Some of the least wretched ones, the rigid old priests who had not been broken by their shaving, made violent movements and sounds at his approach, but the gags silenced their tongues.
"So…" He said, chuckling at their futile attempts to break their bonds. "This is all that remains of the once-mighty Norvos. How utterly pathetic."
He glanced up towards the great stone giant above him. "And a pathetic God for a pathetic people as well. One who sought to defy his betters no less."
The thrashing continued as he turned towards his Uncle. "Begin the ceremony."
His uncle Nodded, and Aurion smiled as he removed his helmet. His eyes smirking as more of his retinue moved to help him further disrobe until he was as nude as his captives.
He held his breath and grit his teeth, knowing well what came next.
The sting of his Uncle's saw-like blade digging into his back seemed to burn his flesh, far more than any normal wound, and he could barely think through the pain as it worked it's way over him, carving arcane patterns into his flesh. Ancient Secrets of the Cult of the Black Goat, written on the back of every Sacrifice to his glory. The poison on the blade blackening and killing his flesh even as it cut further.
As the knife withdrew he staggered to his feet, raising his hands into the air.
"Come, father of the forest, king of the woods, take I, your servant, as Iron and as the smith does, reform me."
He felt a thrill run through his body as the candles of the room seemed to dim with each word that passed his blackening lips.
"Come, mother of ten-thousand children, embrace I, the child of your bosom, and feed me of the milk of life and death."
"Come, Oh Dark and Mighty Goat, and drink deep of this sacrifice I offer to you, and in turn grant me your blessing."
As his words finished and he collapsed to the floor in the center of the chamber, he heard the sound of blades tearing flesh, the throats of the captives torn out by the knives of the sons, their blood begging to seep around him.
With a gust of cold wind, the few remaining candles flickered and died away, leaving the room in pitched black shadow.
In the mind of Aurion, all was still, and all was dark, his life flickering away.
And then he felt it.
Sticky black tendrils of darkness, dripping with unspeakable ichor grew from beneath him, as if dragging him into the bloody pool itself, a shadowy embrace that he could barely feel, even in his nudity. His pulse could race no longer for the poison, but the terror remained. Truly each sacrifice was blessed if they were called before a God in such a way.
"Dear, sweet child of mine, what do you ask of your mother to bring her such a gift?"
"Strong, faithful servant of mine, what do you ask of your king?"
The Voices echoed as one in his head silky smooth black velvet, deep as the ocean and swimming in his mind accompanied by a whisper as fleeting as the wind.
The answer was obvious.
"I wish for power, so that I may serve you faithfully as a child for all time."
"Your sacrifice is… sufficient. Come now and be reborn as a prince of the Forest."
He could swear that he heard stone shattering as the windy whisper spoke.
"Oh sweet Child, I have always loved you so, come now to your mother's embrace."
He felt the inky black tendrils begin to squirm against him, tightening to his body, and then begging to worm their way into his ruined flesh, through his ears, through his eyes, through his nose and mouth and every orifice, they squeezed and sank and slithered, until they began to pull back, tearing his flesh apart with them, and replacing it with their own mass, building him anew of the stuff of shadows.
It seemed like an eternity of that dull pain before the tendrils settled, and he could feel once again.
"Come forth child of mine, and spread my love to all the world."
"Prince of the Forest, rise to your station."
The darkness seemed to rush into his body and his mouth one final time until nothing more remained.
He staggered to his feet, but something was wrong, sticking to his skin, confining him. He tore at it with his fingernails, and ripped at it with his teeth, shredding it.
It was only once he was done, having torn it away from his body, that he realized it was his old blackened skin.
Even the Sons, devout as they were, had fled from him, hiding at the edges of the room, clutching weapons in shaking hands, or praying. He stood amongst a collection of dry, bloodless husks, in an empty floor, speckled only by the dust that remained of the Bearded God's Idol.
He felt a hand come down on his shoulder and turned to see his Uncle, who's eyes were shining brightly. Perhaps inspired by the miracle before him.
The weak flesh that had once been Aurion was gone. His skin was now paler still than it had been before, whiter and purer than the cleanest marble. The nails on his fingers had grown longer, almost claws to his eyes, and he felt that the teeth in his mouth had also become thicker, sharper. Throughout his body, he felt holy Vitality spread. Indeed, every aspect of him seemed to be enhanced beyond human form. From his clawed toes to the long black hair which now hung from his head down past his shoulders, straighter and purer black than ever before.
Yes, a Prince of the Forest he was now, and the Child of the Black Goat. The room was still dark, he realized, but it did not hamper his sight.
He laughed, a hoarse, echoing thing, sounding more like that of a goat than he had intended.
"Come, Uncle. It is time that we celebrate my victory."
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