The Girl with No Name Ch. 07

Danka was about to satisfy something that she had been curious about for several weeks. She wanted to know what it would be like to make love to a man by straddling him, by being on top instead of having to assume a submissive posture. Making sure he was hard enough to push completely inside, she lowered herself over his erect member. She rocked back and forth, completely enjoying a new sensation, not just how his penis felt inside her, but also the feeling of being in control during sex. For the first time, Danka was in completely in charge of her love-making. The tremendous psychological rush pushed her to have the best orgasm she had enjoyed since losing her virginity.

He moaned and she felt his semen pumping into her. When he finished, she ordered him not to move while she rinsed off in the pool. She then put on her dress and retrieved her apron. When she finally allowed him to open his eyes and sit up, he looked totally bewildered, as though he was unsure if he really had entered her or if he had been dreaming.

Without saying anything more, she ordered the captive to return with her to the tunnel entrance. He was terrified when he realized that he was about to be blindfolded and taken back to his cell. As soon as her prisoner was locked up, the Ancients enlightened the initiate about disposing of him in a way that ensured he would never pose a threat. The Followers of the Ancients would have to give up some of the booty they had captured from the fortune-hunters, but Danka knew that would be of little concern to Babáckt Yaga. Sure enough, when she shared her plan with the alchemist, she could tell Babáckt Yaga was very pleased with her judgment.

"You're plan is as good as anything I could have concocted. You scheme balances wisdom, mercy, and caution. As soon as we can tranquilize him and collect what we need, I'll have him taken out of here."

"Am I going with him, Babáckt Yaga?"

"No. If it were any other night, I'd hold you responsible for escorting your prisoner. However, tonight you will have to bear witness to the appeasement of the Ancients, so the Great Spirits demand that you stay with us at the Altar."

Tihomirikt's masters would not be so lucky. Their conversations with Babáckt Yaga confirmed they were nothing more than grave-robbers. They had education and titles and were pursuing their loot in the name of "knowledge", but they remained grave-robbers. Their Paths in Life were offensive to the Followers of the Ancients. Only the flow of their blood could atone for what they were planning to do.

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Danka took her place among the other women shortly before midnight. The female followers stood in a circle around the Altar, dressed in their black outfits and wearing hoods to obscure their faces. Each woman held her skull-staff, which cast off a sinister orange light. The altar area was illuminated by oil lamps with oil treated to burn red. The lighting was designed to highlight the terror of the sacrificial victim: the dim red altar surrounded by a circle of orange skulls, accompanied by a chant that had not changed in 5000 years.

The women's role was to recite the ancient Blood Hymn while the male Followers brought out and restrained the subjects. Like the women, the men were dressed in black and their faces obscured by hoods. The group's leader was completely naked, but her body was covered with white chalk highlighted with charcoal dust. The make-up was similar to the body-paint used by penitents during the Day of the Dead, but more elaborate and thus more scary-looking.

Danka sang with the others, holding a staff she had borrowed from one of the male Followers. In spite of the grim event she was about to witness, the main thought running her mind was the satisfaction that she was about to have her own staff, with its unique skull, crafted in her honor. The staff would show the world and the Ancients that she was a fully-accepted "Follower". She was excited and proud, and also without much pity for the sacrificial captives. If she felt any sympathy at all, she whispered "Bagatúrckt". Her former master's name became her personal chant. Whenever she was called upon to neutralize pity, the memory of the tormentor who had taken away her innocence was all she needed.

The victims were brought out and sacrificed one-by-one. The men brought out the first fortune-hunter. He screamed and viciously struggled when he realized where he was being taken and what was about to happen to him. The screaming and the struggle were part of the sacrificial ritual. With difficulty the men managed to position their subject on the altar and chain his wrists and ankles. They cut open the victim's shirt and marked a spot near the heart where Babáckt Yaga would plunge her knife. The leader showed up, carrying a large and very crudely-made bronze dagger. Danka vaguely wondered how many victims that dagger had entered over the centuries.

Babáckt Yaga's most trusted elders helped her get on the altar and straddle the fortune-hunter. He was screaming maniacally. Perfect. In archaic Danubian, the old woman shouted:

"The dirty blood of the vile offender will cleanse the earth! Ancient ones, we implore you to accept this red river of life, a gift for the nourishment of the world!"

The leader expertly plunged the knife into the exact spot marked by her assistants. The screaming suddenly stopped. She plunged the knife a second time into the victim's neck, severing the artery and producing the flow of red river needed to sustain the cosmos of the Cult of the Ancients.

The stench of fresh blood hit Danka's nose. It didn't bother her in the least. It was the same smell she experienced every time she had to butcher an animal for dinner. Like her companions, she continued to chant as the body was taken away and the next screaming victim brought to the altar.

Bagatúrckt... Bagatúrckt... Bagatúrckt

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The next morning Tihomirikt woke up in an unfamiliar village, sleeping under a tree next to the local Priest's house. His head ached in a very strange manner and it took him a long time to completely come to his senses. He realized he was lying on a comfortable bedroll and dressed in elegant clothing. A sword and an expensive Austrian musket lay at his side. He looked around for his employers, but didn't see anything except a fine horse...like the ones his father used to train.

Where was he? Was he dreaming? Or had he been dreaming and just woken up? Did he have employers to whom that horse belonged, or was the horse his? Was the musket his? How could he be wearing expensive clothing, if the clothing wasn't his? What about the mules? Had there been mules? He looked around. No mules...just the horse...

There had been a girl...a completely naked green nymph singing on a hillside ...or was she the cult member wearing a black dress? The nymph and the girl looked alike...but no...there were no such thing as nymphs...or...were there? Had he made love to a nymph? ...or the girl in the black dress? Both? Neither?

His thoughts returned to his outfit, his musket, and his horse. What a strange dream. I need to get my bearings...figure out where I am...

He looked in his saddlebag. It contained a stock of dried food and three pieces of gold. Gold...my family...I must go back and make sure they are well...

Before Tihomirikt left the village, he stopped at the city square to purchase sheets of parchment and an ink-well. The girl in the forest...the one of his dreams...he'd have to write about her so he wouldn't forget.

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Note: At this point in my narrative, as a researcher I must insert a comment about the Cult of the Ancients and the popular distortion of history. Nineteenth-century romanticists and historians tried to obscure the reality that human sacrifice was an integral part of the Followers' beliefs, a practice that dated back five thousand years.

When the Cult of the Ancients formed, human sacrifice was common throughout Europe. The ancient Danubians conducted human sacrifices as well. The children's storybooks, poems, and songs that romanticize the Followers, as well as commercial tour-guides who lead excursions into the North Mountain National Park, fail to mention that reality. However, one cannot understand the Followers of the Ancients without accepting the fact they obtained the skulls they carried on their staffs from sacrificial victims. It is also important to remember that the Followers were much more sparing with their sacrifices than most pre-Christian cults. An average peasant or villager had nothing to fear from the Followers, which partly explains why human sacrifice in the forests of northern Danubia was tolerated and continued centuries after the practice had died out everywhere else.

Finding and capturing suitable sacrificial subjects was challenging, because only the blood of those who directly offended the Great Spirits was acceptable. The blood had to be from an able-bodied adult who, through his own decisions and deliberate actions, had physically harmed a Follower or who had desecrated or intended to desecrate a Holy Site. During the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, fortune hunters, especially foreigners who did not respect ancient Danubian lore, were the main source of victims for the Altar of Blood-nourishment. The challenge for the Followers was that usually fortune hunters were aggressive, well-armed, and traveled in groups. Identifying, luring, and subduing such victims was difficult and dangerous, but was also an important part of the sacrificial ritual. It had to be that way, because the blood of a person who was helpless, weak, or innocent would bring a curse to the Ancients instead of nourishing the Earth's life-cycle.

- Maritza Ortskt-Dukovna -