The eastern sky had just begun to brighten with the approaching dawn. A very light breeze freshened the air and made a soft rustling sound as it filtered through the leaves of the forest. The clouds over the eastern horizon were ringed with gold and red, with just a hint of a very unusual greenish tinge, all of which was just beginning to be reflected in the sea beneath them. To the west, the highest peaks of the two mountains were just beginning to be visible as more than an absence of stars in the night sky. An unusual cloud formation just above each peak glowed with light from the coming sunrise. Cam, awakened by some unidentified sound , took all of this in, but did not move from her cot. Rolling over, she noticed that not everyone was in their cots as they should have been. Synda and her new husband were down on the beach watching the sunrise and leaning against each other. Kytha was wading by herself a hundred yards down the beach to the right. All were up before dawn; something that was generally discouraged on Pindar. Cam scowled and rolled over again.

"They should be still in their cots," she grumbled to herself. "Why can’t they do what they’re told?"

Being up before the sun was not actually taboo on Zendar, except on certain festival days, but it was highly discouraged. Many years before the king had decreed that people should not be up and moving around in the dark once they had gone to bed. No one really knew the reason for such a rule but that was the rule.

…………………………………………………………

Cam and all the others did get up as the disk of the sun rose above the horizon. Within half an hour everyone assembled in the center of the village, as they did every day, so the village leader could announce task assignments for the day. Life was easy on Zendar and little work was necessary on many days. Nevertheless, food had to be gathered and prepared, houses had to be mended from time to time, and there were always small tasks to be performed. Cam, Kytha, Synda, and a dozen others were assigned to hike to the moon-nut groves on the far side of the island to gather the nuts that ripened at that time of year. Moon-nuts were the source of a fairly strong stimulent drink that was sometimes mixed with the fermented juice of certain leaves and flowers to make Milua, a potent hallucinogen that was often used in religious ceremonies. Ordinary citizens, of course, were not allowed to use this drug, only religious and certain political leaders were allowed to indulge. Everyone assigned to the moon-nut group gathered their baskets and headed up the trail toward the valley separating the two mountain peaks that loomed over the village.

For half an hour they walked through dense, humid rain forest and semi-swamp land.. If the temperature had been higher, as it would be in an hour, the combination of heat and humidity would have been stifling.

"Cam, have you ever tried the Milua," asked Synda.

"Of course not. Its not permitted for us, you know that," answered Cam.                        Map of Zendar - Click for larger image
"I know that, but have you ever tried it?" Synda persisted.

"No!"

Kytha jumped in to the conversation, "But haven’t you ever wondered what it’s like?"

"Come on, tell us the truth Cam. Haven’t you ever wondered what the big mystery is all about?"

"It’s not allowed. What’s the point of wondering what something is like when its not allowed," Cam answered with a trace of irritation.

"Well, I wonder about many things," Synda continued. "I think its not allowed because the leaders just want it all for themselves."

"You should not say such things." Cam scolded.

Then they began to climb and the conversation ended. Quickly the temperature and humidity dropped to more pleasant levels and the thick forest opened up into land that was more open than forested. After an hour they were in territory where large trees were fairly rare.

Synda was fascinated by the view looking back and down on the village.

"This is the first time you’ve been up here, isn’t it Synda?" someone commented, noticing how Synda kept slowing down to take in the view.

"I came up about this far a couple of years ago," Synda responded. "But we stopped about where we are now…. I’ve never seen the moon-nut groves."

"I haven ’t either." Kytha volunteered.

Cam responded to them both, "They’re nothing special, really… Just thorny bushes with big nuts…. It’s the next few miles, in the valley between the mountains, that are really special….and frightening."

"It can’t be all that bad," Kytha volunteered.

"Oh yes it can," Cam answered with authority. "And you’ll soon see why rules have to be obeyed."

There was little conversation for the next few minutes as the trail leveled out into the valley that formed a saddle between the two mountains. The little group moved into ground that was barren except for a few hardy bushes and grasses. Suddenly the air became stiflingly humid, though no hotter. Every once in a while there was a very strange odor, sometimes metallic, sometimes choking and acrid, and sometimes resembling the odor of spoiled eggs. With everyone very quiet with a subtle sense of anxiety, they moved past a great crack in the ground from which white and yellowish gases discharged gently but steadily . They moved past a huge embankment of bright yellow crystalline material that crumbled to powder at a touch. They crossed over a region of dark, black rock that looked like the surface of a river frozen in place. At the far edge of the river of rock they crossed over razor sharp rocks that looked like brown, black, and even red chunks of broken sea foam. After half an hour they stopped for a brief rest. JoAnna, the group leader spoke before they continued on.

"Everyone, listen very carefully," she said in a tone that meant business. "As you know, this trail passes through sacred ground. We are now about to enter the area of the sacred pits, which are the home of the God of the Mountain. Around the sacred pits you must stay on the trail. Be very careful about that. Also, you must not speak, eat anything, spit, pick any leaf or fruit, or disturb any rock until we are completely through the pit area. Are there any questions before we go through?"

No one asked any questions. There was no need. They moved quickly and silently down a steep incline about twenty feet. The trail then led around the right side of a huge expanse of shimmering, black mud. At random locations all across the pit, the surface would suddenly rise a foot or more as a huge bubble of gas reached the surface. A noxious cloud of steam and gas would then be released as the bubble burst, sometimes throwing a glob of mud as much as several feet into the air. At several places along the edges the mud appeared to be dry and crusted over. Adjacent to these areas there were often banks of mud piled up to three feet high by the accumulated splashes made by smaller gas bubbles that consistently rose and burst in the same locations. These banks sometimes collapsed under their own weight, plunging their contents through the apparently crusted-over surface and back into the wet mixture below. Except for the rising and bursting bubbles the entire surface of the mire appeared stationary, but swirling lines of mud of varying color revealed that it was actually in a state of constant, although slow, motion.

Leaving this pit behind the trail went up a rise of ten feet or so to an oval-shaped plane about two hundred feet across and seventy-five feet wide. In the center of this area were two more very large pits of mud, each about five feet below the level of the plane down a nearly vertical, circular cliff. The first pit was filled with almost black mud like that encountered before. The second held mud that was dark brown in the center with roughly circular, concentric bands of orange, red, yellow, and green mats of material that resembled moss. Stains on the circular, surrounding cliffs gave indication that the level of the mud in these pits must rise and fall in response to some subterranean force.

At the far side of this plane the trail branched. One branch led over a slight rise and then down into a depression, but was blocked by several taboo signs and a log that had clearly been brought in from elsewhere. The other trail led up an incline and was unobstructed.

JoAnna led the group up the incline. About two hundred feet past the top of the incline she stopped the group for a rest and then spoke. "We may speak now. We have left the pits behind."

For a minute or so no one spoke. Those who had never been to the pits before were shaken to the core with what they had seen. They had all heard the stories of the village elders of what had happened many generations in the past when the God of the Mountain had been angered. Huge clouds of dust and ash had been thrown into the air from the mountain top, turning day into night that lasted for several ordinary days. Noxious and hot air had descended from the mountain, scorching and killing everything in its path, including many of the plants that made Zendar so rich in food. Fire spewed forth from cracks in the ground and flowed along the ground, then turned into the barren rock that looked like a frozen river. Many villagers sickened and died. Chaos had lasted for months and only stopped when the king and his shaman and guards, who had angered the God of the Mountain by failing to observe certain rituals and allowing ordinary people to indulge in Milua, blundered into and were engulfed by the mud of one of the newly-formed pits.

Synda was the first to break the awe-induced silence, "I’ve heard the stories about the pits, but they are truly terrible…. I never imagined."

After another half minute of silence, Kytha spoke, "We passed a blocked trail marked as major taboo…. Where does it go?"

A place you must hope we never have to go," answered Cam ominously.

JoAnna added, "The trail goes to the Pits of Sacrifice"

"The Pits of Sacrifice?" asked both Kytha and Synda in unison.

All the others gathered together to listen, as many of them, like Kytha and Synda, had never heard of the Pits of Sacrifice.

"There are two pits, both huge, bubbling, and churning lakes of thick, dark mud," JoAnna began. "I have never been there, not has anyone alive today except probably the shaman and maybe the king, but I heard about it from my grandfather."

"Did he see a sacrifice?" asked Synda.

"No, he saw an execution," answered JoAnna. "A man named Mol from another village was executed for heresy. He said the mudpits were just natural things and not the home of the God of the Mountain"

"I heard about that," Synda interjected. "My great grandfather told me about that I think. But the way I heard it it wasn’t heresy against the God of the Mountain, it was for questioning the judgement of the king. He argued the mud pits should not be used for sacrifice."

Cam glared at Synda, "Questioning the judgement of the king is heresy… And repeating stories like that comes pretty close to heresy too."

"I only said what I had heard, I’m not questioning the kings judgement," Synda defended herself.

JoAnna continued the story, "The first pit is the one the old king and his men fell into many years ago. No one goes near it. The second is the Great Pit of Sacrifice…. Anyone guilty of murder, heresy, or a few other things can be sentenced to sacrifice themselves by jumping into the pit. Also, if the God of the Mountain were to signal great anger for violation of his tabooes, then the guilty person would have to be sacrificed."

"What if no one knew who was guilty and no one would admit guilt?" asked Kytha.

"Then the king would choose by asking the God of the Mountain to tell him who was guilty."

"That doesn’t sound very reasonable," Kytha interrupted.

No one responded, except that Cam glared at Kytha for quite a while.

"How could anyone jump into that mud? I certainly could not do it," said Synda, What a horrible way to die, drowning in mud."

"It wouldn’t be as horrible as what might happen if you didn’t," JoAnna responded.

"How can that be?" asked Synda.

JoAnna explained, "When prisoners are sentenced to sacrifice themselves they are allowed to choose the spot where they go in and they may jump in any way they prefer. If they refuse, then they are thrown in."

"What difference could that make," interjected Synda, "They’ll still drown in the mud."

"It might make a big difference," explained Cam, who then yielded to JoAnna to continue.

"If a person is smart they will pick a spot where the mud is soft and they will keep the legs straight as they fall in. That way they will plunge in quite deeply and will be certain of going completely under fairly quickly," JoAnna elaborated.

"So they die a few minutes sooner. What’s the advantage in that," asked Kytha.

"If they pick, or are pushed into, a spot where the mud is thick, it might be a lot more than a few minutes," JoAnna went on. "You might never actually go under….You could be stuck up to your neck out there for days…. You would not drown but the mud itself has a lot of acid in it. Gradually it would produce skin irritation and burns. It would be worse than the most severe burn from the sun, and it would go on and on until you finally died of exposure, shock, and starvation."

"How horrible," Kytha exclaimed.

"Yes, it is horrible, "answered Cam. "But its why we never have any reason to use it. No one has been sacrificed in three generation."

……………………………………..

The moon-nut gathering group then moved on, a little shaken at first, but the feeling soon passed. An hour later they reached the moon-nut groves and found a rich crop of fully ripe nuts. In an hour and a half every basket was full and the return trip began. As it was mostly downhill, the return trip took much less time. Also, no one wanted to stop in the vicinity of the mud pits as they had on the way up.

Late in the afternoon the group was passing through the rain forest, which was dripping wet from a thunderstorm. As it was now just passed the hottest part of the day, everyone was soon dripping with sweat, which did little to relieve the heat. It did not matter, however. The village was just a few minutes away and a swim in the sea would relieve any discomfort well before the evening meal, already being prepared by others, would be ready.

Ten minutes later the moon-nut group was joined by another group that had been gathering various vegetables and fruits and the combined group was coming into the village itself. The village leader looked up and was just about to call out a greeting when there was a sudden deep, rumbling sound. The sound was as deep-throated as anything imaginable, like distant thunder but louder, and it seemed to come from everywhere at once. Everyone froze in place, eyes widening.

In five seconds the sound stopped as suddenly as it had started.

"What was that?" half the people present said at once and to no one in particular, looking about in alarm. Then suddenly, the ground itself lurched. People fell where they stood and could not rise again as the ground continued to shift under them. Baskets and tables of fruit fell and spilled and some of the fruits danced on the ground as if electrified. Pots containing the evening meal crashed to the ground and spits holding roasting meat collapsed, dropping their contents into the cooking fires. Few people screamed; they were too frightened for any sounds to come out of their mouths.

In thirty seconds it was over. The village was a mess but it wasn’t moving any more. People milled about, not knowing what to do or what had happened. Gradually they began to calm down and began to pick up the mess. The food being cooked was a little dirty but they cleaned it off and began cooking again. Some of the evening stew had been spilled on the ground and lost but most could be salvaged. Those not working on the cooking began picking up spilled vegetables and putting them back into baskets.

Then the ground lurched again, not as violently as before, but just as unsettling. All night the aftershocks continued. Sometimes the ground moved, sometimes there was noise but no real shaking. By morning the people were exhausted, confused and frightened, but they quickly learned that baskets of food did not spill if they were left on the ground instead of on tables. Pots of water and stew left on the ground might splash when the ground shook but would not fall over. Gradually the ground shakes became less and less violent. After three days there were only occasional small rumblings that hardly anyone noticed.

Shortly after midnight of the fourth night, however, there was another large and loud quake that brought everyone out of their beds for the rest of the night. The next morning came later than expected. When it did, the sun was already well above the horizon and there were heavy, black clouds coming from just beyond the peak of one of the mountains. The ground was covered with an inch or more of very heavy, wet ash. Huge, roiling black and white clouds belched upward from behind the mountain and soared straight up into the air. Many seconds later there would be a gigantic rumble as deep as that of the earthquake four days before. This went on all day and through the night. During the night, people looking up at the mountain could see occasional orange glows that would momentarily brighten and then fade away. Ten to fifteen seconds later there would be another deep rumble. Then the moon and stars would fade from the sky for many minutes. A rain of ash sometimes followed each disappearance of the moon and stars.

By noon the following day fire and ash were no longer being emitted continuously but the mountain was still very restless. Every half hour or so there was another explosion. A column of smoke would boil upward and ash would rain down in the immediate vicinity of the peak. Ominously, however, in between explosions the people could feel an almost continuous vibration coming from the ground. There was a strange odor in the air that those who had been there recognized as the same as that of the area of the ground cracks and mud pits. Everyone was very worried.

Word came shortly after noon that the king was coming and would arrive in less than an hour. Everyone in the village was summoned to be present on the beach next to the village.

An hour later everyone was gathered on the beach. The king had arrived but was consulting with his shaman and was not yet ready to speak. There had not been an explosion from the mountain for more than an hour but the acrid odors were stronger than ever and the ground still trembled almost constantly.

Cam, Synda, Synda’s sister Vila, Kytha, and her brother Mel were together under a tree to one side of where the king would soon speak.

"What does it all mean?" Mel asked Cam and Vila.

"The God of the Mountain has been disturbed. He is angry with us," responded Vila.

"Someone must have done something to violate a taboo," said Cam. "We may have to offer a sacrifice."

"Oh I hope not. My grandfather attended a sacrifice when he was a young man," said Mel. "He said it was truly horrible to watch."

"Yes, terrible, indeed. A terrible death for the one chosen," added Vila.

"But its for the good of everyone else. If it has to be then it has to be," asserted Cam. The she added, " Besides the guilty person should have known better than to violate taboo."

Finally, the king and his shaman broke from their conference. The king walked to a position in front of those gathered around and raised his arms for attention. As the villagers quieted down, the king said nothing, but gestured with his hands to the shaman.

The shaman paused for a few seconds and then spoke, "The God of the Mountain is angry. He must be appeased."

There was a general murmuring of alarm and a heightened sense of alarm among everyone present.

"Why is the God of the Mountain angry," someone asked.

The shaman answered with a tone of great authority, "We cannot be certain, but we must not expect to know such things. Someone may have violated a taboo. Perhaps someone spoke disrespectfully about the God of the Mountain…. But there is no doubt her is angry. He must be appeased."

"But how can the God of the Mountain be appeased," asked Vila.

"There must be a sacrifice," the shaman stated.

"But who? No one broke any taboos," shouted Mel in alarm.

The king stepped forward and raised his arms for silence. "My people…. My people be at ease…. The selection has already been made."

There was instantaneous silence. Everyone looked around at each other, partly to see who might be missing.

The king spoke again, "Kyla, grand daughter of the heretic Mol, has been selected. She was selected years ago by her own grand father when he tried to spoke against use of the pits"

Cam turned to Mel and Vila with elation, "Kyla, grand daughter of Mol, what a brilliant selection…Her grandfather wanted to abolish the sacrifice, and now she will pay for his foolishness."

"It still seems barbaric to me," said Vila.

"Hush, or you might be next in line," admonished Cam. "The sacrifice is necessary. It’s good. It should not be opposed."

The king spoke one more time, "The sacrifice must be carried out on a day with no moon. That is tomorrow. We will leave shortly after dawn for the Pits of Sacrifice.

Shortly after dawn the next day, every adult member of the village, most members of Kyla’s village, the king, the shaman, and their entourage began the trek across the rain forest and up the side of the mountain to the Pits of Sacrifice. Kyla was forced to walk with her hands bound in front of her and with a bandage across her mouth. When she stumbled she was assisted by two of the kings guards, but when she held back she was prodded by the same guards using sticks.

Before reaching the area of the pits, the members of the procession were instructed that they would be released from the taboo against talking. However, they were to strictly avoid moving any rock or disturbing any plant. In addition they must not eat anything or spit on the ground. Nevertheless, there was very little conversation at they passed the first pits.

As the group approached the blocked pathway to the Pits of Sacrifice the ground began to tremble again and the smell emanating from the ground became stronger than ever.

"I knew it would be bad but I never thought it would be this terrible," Vila said to Synda and Cam.

"It has to be bad to be a real sacrifice. The God of the Mountain might not accept it if it wasn’t real," said Cam.

I don’t know. It seems to be that sacrificing the grand daughter of an enemy isn’t much of a sacrifice for the king," questioned Synda."It might not be acceptable."

Of course it will. Its just good sense," countered Cam. "The God of the Mountain doesn’t case who likes whom. He just wants blood."

"So, you’re the shaman now," challenged Synda. "You know what the God of the Mountain wants."

"No, that’s what the shaman believes. He’s the one who selected Kyla," said Cam.

How do you know it wasn’t the king who selected Kyla. Mol’s ideas are a threat to both of them, you know," said Synda.

"Well, what difference does it make, " said Cam. "I never liked the member’s of Mol’s family much myself. They were always questioning the way things were. Things have been pretty good but they’re always raising questions."

The procession filed past the first sacrificial pit in silence. Then the second pit came into view. It was fifty feet across and nearly circular in shape. Millions of tiny bubbles rose all over the pit, spattering tiny particles of clay-like mud as they burst. Much of the surface was covered by a fragile-looking crust that was broken into irregularly shaped plates that slowly jostled one another as the deep mud churned below. Where there was no crust, the mud was marked by swirling streaks of color that revealed it to be in a state of slow but continuous motion. The path divided as it approached the pit, so as to pass around its circumference. On one shore there was a wooden platform that projected outward several feet over the mire, whose surface was about two feet below.

The king and the shaman walked around the pit and onto the wooden platform, standing well back from the edge over the mire. Kyla and the two guards followed closely behind and also stepped onto the platform. The rest of the procession took places on the path around the pit. Kytha, Synda, Cam, Vila, and Mel were positioned about twenty feet from the platform. Kyla looked distinctly unsteady on her feet.

Cam spoke softly to Vila and the others nearby, "Look at Kyla, she doesn’t seem to be very worried or even upset….See, it’s not so bad."

Vila looked at Cam incredulously, "She’s full of Milua. They’ve loaded her up with Milua and Grillo root to keep her under control"

The Grillo roots have weakened her muscles and made her confused, said Synda. "Look you can see how unsteady she is….And the Milua has taken away her fear."

"She probably doesn’t even know what is going on. She probably won’t even know what is happening when she is in the mud," added Mel.

"That’s too bad," said Cam. "She ought to suffer a bit more for what her grandfather did."

"You’re cruel," Synda protested. "She is completely innocent, you know. She was not even born when her grandfather was forced to sacrifice himself."

"I suppose that’s true," said Cam. "But she might have inherited her grandfather’s ideas, just the same….Besides, it’s a good lesson for everyone. If you raise trouble you may have to pay a heavy price."

A few moments later the king raised his arms for attention, then signaled the guards around Kyla. Her arms were untied and the gag was removed from her mouth. Then she was led forward to the edge of the platform. One of the guards indicated with his hands that she could choose any spot she wished.

The guards stepped back, away from Kyla. She just stood there, apparently not fully aware of what was happening.

After half a minute one of the guards urged her to hurry up, "Jump, Kyla. We’ll have to push you if you don’t."

Kyla looked back at the guard who had spoken but did not seem to understand. Another half minute went by. Finally, just as the guards were about to come out to force Kyla into the mire, her legs succumbed to the effects of the Grillo root. She collapsed onto the edge of the platform and then tumbled off into the mud below.

There was a gasp from the assembled crowd as Kyla did a belly flop into the ooze. For a few seconds she just lay face down in the muck. Then she pushed her arms down into the ooze and lifted her torso into a more vertical position. She was in up to her waist. She looked around uncomprehendingly. Then she discovered the smoothness of the mud that was slowly engulfing her. Unaware of her peril but conscious of its sensual qualities, she began pulling the mud up and rubbing it all over her upper torso. She even smiled absent-mindedly as though it felt good to be sinking in mud. Gradually she sank deeper and deeper. By the time she was up to her shoulders she had covered her own face with mud and had even worked it through her hair.

"I don’t like this." Said Mel, looking as if he might heave at any moment. "This can’t be what the God of the Mountain wants."

"Why not?" answered Cam. "This is the way it has always been. Besides, she doesn’t seem to mind."

"She’s drunk with Milua. She doesn’t know what is happening," interjected Vila.

Then Mel argued, "If she doesn’t know what is happening to her and no one seems to like her either, then where is the sacrifice…Who is making a sacrifice?"

"Kyla is making the sacrifice," said Cam. "She’s giving up her life for everyone else."

"No, she’s having her life taken away by everyone else. She’s not sacrificing it for us because she doesn’t know," said Mel.

By now Kyla was chin deep in the mud and beginning to struggle to keep her muth above the surface. Unfortunately for her, some degree of awareness was returning.

"I hope this never happens again," said Vila.

"If people would just stop questioning things, maybe it won’t," answered Cam.

"So, you think maybe I should be next?" said Mel. "Thanks a lot."

"I didn’t say that," countered Cam.

"Yes you did." Said Vila.

No more words were spoken for several minutes after that. The mud climbed higher around Kyla’s face and began to cover her mouth. She began to sputter, then to gasp and choke. Her eyes went wide open and she began to struggle frantically, but it was over in a minute. The surface of the mire was again completely flat and undisturbed except for a couple of times when one of Kyla’s thrashing hands momentarily broke the surface as she drowned.

The entire group stood is awed silence for several minutes. Then the king began to rise from his seat and everyone began to get ready to leave. At that very moment, however, everything began to darken. There was a sudden chill in the air. Everyone turned toward the mountain, expecting to see another burst of smoke. But the mountain was quiet. Still it darkened. In a few minutes it was twilight, even though the sun was almost directly overhead.

"Oooh! What is it? What is happening?" everyone began asking everyone.

Someone pointed upward at the sun saying, "The sun. It’s going out!"

For a few minutes there was general pandemonium in the gathering darkness. Fortunately, no one moved from where they stood. If there had been a stampede, several people could easily have been jostled into the mud pit. The confusion transformed into abject, silent fear as the sun was reduced to a dim ring of light and a host of unfamiliar stars appeared in the darkened sky. Then the sun began to brighten again.

The king began to confer frantically with his shaman.

"What can this mean?" he asked. "Just as the sacrifice in ended."

The shaman answered, "Obviously we have chosen badly. The God of the Mountain has rejected the sacrifice. He demands more."

The king nodded his head in agreement and thought for a moment. Then he scowled in concern. "But the sacrifice must be made on a day with no moon," he said. "Do we dare wait that long?"

"No!" answered the shaman. "We must make another sacrifice. Right away. Now!"

"But who?" asked the king.

The shaman raised his arms and stepped forward to speak to the people. "The God of the Mountain remains angry," he announced. "Someone else must have broken taboo. There must be another sacrifice and it must be right now."

The king leaned over to the shaman and whispered, :"But who?"

The shaman did not answer the king directly but spoke again to the people. "Someone must have broken taboo and offended the God of the Mountain. That person must step forward and sacrifice himself or herself for the good of the people of Zendar."

Everyone looked around to see if anyone would admit breaking taboo. Many people had done minor things but nothing that dozens of others had not also done, all without consequence, on many occasions. Cam looked at Synda and remembered her remark about the king and shaman keeping use of Milua for themselves and wondered if Synda had done anything else she shouldn’t have. Then Cam thought about Synda’s comment about the truth of the story about the heretic Mol. This is all you’re fault, Synda, Cam thought for a moment, but then she dismissed the idea, Synda had simply reported what she had heard, not stated it as fact.

Cam then thought of Kytha’s remark about how the king asking the God of the Mountain who should be sacrificed was not reasonable. Cam looked at Kytha and glared, for a moment considering whether to report what Kytha had said.

Then Cam thought about what Vila and Mel had said just a few minutes before. Mel’s remarks were not really that different from what Mol had said many years before. Cam almost said something about those remarks but then realized they had come well after all the ground shaking had begun.

No one came forward to be sacrificed.

The king leaned over to the shaman and whispered again. "Who? What now?" he said.

The shaman raised his arms for attention and spoke, again to the people. "The king will concentrate and ask the God of the Mountain who is to be sacrificed," he said. "That way, there can be no mistake."

Then the Shaman leans toward the king. "Just select anyone. Anyone at all," he said cynically. "Close you’re eyes and point to someone. The God of the Mountain will guide you’re hand."

The king and the shaman now stepped forward, almost to the edge of the platform. The king raised one hand to cover his eyes and the other to point outward toward the people standing around the pit. He moved his hand back and forth, scanning the entire audience. Then he suddenly stopped.

"You!" he asserted. "You will sacrifice yourself!" He was pointing directly at Cam.

Cam turned to see who was behind, then turned back in disbelief when there was no one. "Not me!" Cam said in horror.

"Yes, you!" repeated the king.

The guards immediately surrounded and brought Cam by the arms to the platform.

"You can’t mean me," Cam protested. "I’ve never broken taboo. I have always supported you and your family. Not me. I have never questioned anything you have said or done."

"You’re questioning it now!" the shaman said triumphantly. "Besides, the God of the Mountain has chosen you…. You must offer yourself in sacrifice…. And you must do so now!"

Cam stood there in terror. "Synda, tell them," she shouted. "I didn’t do anything….Kytha… Vila…This is a mistake."

"Hurry up," one of the guards ordered. "Jump in or be pushed."

Cam continued to protest, "Don’t do this. This is wrong. This is a mistake."

"Jump," the other guard ordered.

Cam starred at the seething mire beneath her, but made no move.

The king made a subtle gesture with his hand and the guards stepped up behind Cam and pushed.

"Oooohhhh!," she screamed as she lost her balance and plunged off the platform into the waiting mire. She began flailing about wildly and pleading to everyone. Her wild struggles caused her to sink rapidly past her waist, to her chest, and to he shoulders.

"Please, No!" she shouted. "Why, why me…I have been loyal… I’ve always obeyed the taboo…Noooo!"

The crowd and the king watched in silence as the mud rose inexorably around Cam’s neck and surrounded her upturned face. Some people struggled hard to keep from heaving as Cam began to sputter and gasp from the wet mud starting to drain into her mouth as she tried to breathe. Some turned away as the muck covered her mouth, leaving her submerged except for her wide-open eyes and the top of her head. In a few more seconds Cam was entirely below the undisturbed, level surface of the mire. Her downward movement had created a depression in the thick mud, however, and her terrified eyes could still be seen staring up through a shrinking hole in the surface. Few people other than the king and shaman were still looking, however. The sight of Cam’s pleadiing, almost bulging, eyes was too much for nearly everyone.

Then her face was gone. Her hands clawed at the surface for a few seconds, then a huge bubble gurgled to the surface directly above where her mouth had been. One hand broke the surface one more time and then the surface was still.

There was stunned silence for a few seconds, followed by a few groans and sounds of retching. Then, suddenly there was a deep rumble from the mountain. The crowd looked toward the active peak to see a huge, skyward rush of black smoke, mixed with boulders that arched in a parabolic curve a thousand feet high. In seconds the column of smoke towered thousands of feet in the air and ash began to fall in a silent, black rain.

Everyone stayed right where they were for more than an hour. It quickly became too dark to move about anyway. What little conversation took place was about the obvious fact that the God of the Mountain was still angry. Who would be next? Was on everyone’s mind.

Finally, the darkness diminished enough for the king and shaman to take control again. The shaman stepped forward and raised his arms to speak. "Obviously, there must be another wanted by the God of the Mountain….Two among you must have offended him…. The king will have to consult the God of the Mountain again," he said. This time his voice betrayed a degree of loss of confidence in his own words.

The king stepped forward. He looked a bit unsure, but was determined to keep his fear and confusion hidden as much as possible. Again, he covered his eyes with one hand and began to scan the crowd with the other. Many in the crowd shrank back and shifted their positions. Most were beginning to wonder if the king had any idea what he was doing and simultaneously wondering if those very thoughts might lead to their being sacrificed.

The king had made several scans of the crowd with his arm and was obviously about to designate the next sacrifice, when the ground lurched downward slightly. It was a minor shake compared to what had happened many times in the past few days and went almost unnoticed. A fraction of a second later, however, the mountain belched again. At that exact instant, the supports under the platform buckled. The platform suddenly collapsed forward. With a shriek of terror, the king, the shaman, and both guards pitched off the now tilted platform into the bubbling mire.

Both guards, wearing relatively heavy armor, sank from sight almost immediately. The king and shaman took somewhat longer.

"Pull us out," commanded the king to the nearest remaining onlookers.

"You, there, use that broken board. Reach it out to us," screamed the shaman.

No one moved.

In a few minutes the king and shaman were completely engulfed by the mud. The people left the Pits of Sacrifice as soon as the rain of ash stopped and headed down toward the sea. The mountain stopped rumbling and belching smoke by the time they reached the village.

The mountain has been quiet ever since. The God of the Mountain has, for now, apparently been placated. Most of the laws calling for sacrifice by criminals and heretics have were quickly changed and no one has been sacrificed since. In fact, no one ever talks about the sacrifice any more, not officially, at least, and certainly not anyone connected with the royal or shaman families. For everyone now knows that when the God of the Mountain signals his anger by darkening the sky, the only sacrifices that can placate him must be made by the king and shaman.