Sinners of Erspia

by Barrington J. Bayley

Genres: Science Fiction; Sci-fi Action & Adventure; Military Sci-Fi

Synopsis

The Sinners of Erspia are the inhabitants of a bizarre world, ruled and guided by the hands of Ormazd and Ahriman, twin gods of good and evil. Histrina, a child of Ormazd, is taken by the evil hordes to a camp of terror where she meets Laedo, a man stranded far from his home. Together they start on a hallucinatory journey to understand and escape from the surreal world that holds them prisoner.

Release date: July 25, 2013

Publisher: Gateway

Print pages: 184

Sample

Histrina scarcely dared raise her head once she was in the chapel. Eyes downcast, she followed the tonsured acolyte across the tiled floor, walking between slanting slats of hard white light which entered through narrow openings high in the walls. They were like arrows picking out stone recesses and elaborate wood carvings in the cool, otherwise dim place of worship. She passed before the altar upon which a small flame burned in front of a polished stone figure, automatically pausing to press the back of her hand to her forehead in the traditional sign of submission to the Good Lord.

Then she came to the little confessional room where the priest was waiting. The acolyte disappeared through the drapes, returning after a moment. Punctiliously he folded his hands. “The Father will see you now, my child.”

Her heart beating wildly, she went in. Sitting in an ornate upright chair, wearing a maroon cope, the Father smiled at her kindly, the wrinkles of his benign face creasing.

She obeyed as he motioned her to kneel on the cushion before him. The small room seemed to enclose them both as if nothing else existed in the whole of Erspia. Only the cheep of a bird somewhere outside broke the heavy silence. There were no windows. Light came from an oil lamp on the nearby table. Clenching her hands together, she tried to avoid looking directly at the Father’s large polished boot. She felt utterly in his power.

The Father sighed and then uttered a brief recitation. “Heerwecumlord, lighten us our bodily burdens.” He sighed again. “So why are you here, daughter?”

The question was ritualistic. “To accuse myself, Father.”

“And of what do you accuse yourself?”

“I—” She swallowed. “I have been having thoughts, Father.”

“Tempting thoughts?”

“Yes, Father.”

“The Evil One sends bad thoughts to us all, my child. You have been taught how to resist them.”

“I don’t think I can resist them much longer, Father.” Her words came out abjectly. “They are too strong.”

“What is it the Evil One is trying to make you do, child? Hurt someone?”

“No … well, yes, sometimes he tries to make me do that. But I can resist that by concentrating on good thoughts, as we are taught. This is something else. Feelings that keep making me want to—to—”

The priest leaned forward, almost eagerly. “Yes, daughter?”

“There is a young man, Father,” she said demurely. “I keep wanting to … do sinful things with him.”

The priest leaned back, sighing again and tutting to himself. “All is clear. This is the Evil One’s most powerful weapon. The body itself collaborates with it, for the body is full of darkness and corruption.”

Her voice was a whisper. “What can I do, Father?”

“The Lord will help you to fight these thoughts.”

“But it is so difficult, Father. They are so overwhelming. Especially when night comes—”

“Yes, the Evil One is stronger at night. Stronger than the Lord himself at times. But he must be fought. If you but once give way to the lecherous thoughts he puts in your head, you will instantly be his. He will force you to do other things as well—steal, murder, lie. He will banish all the good and clean thoughts that the Lord sends to you, and your life will be one of wretchedness and crime.”

“Yes, Father. But help me—help me to be strong.”

The priest’s voice became stern. “You can help yourself, my child. When the Evil One’s fever comes over you, when you imagine that you can resist no longer—and you must believe me when I tell you that you always can resist longer—then call on the Lord by his secret name.” He leaned forward again, placing his hand on her bowed head. “I am instructing you in this because you are obviously in danger. You were told this name when you were confirmed in the ways of the Lord. Can you remember it?”

“Name, Father?”

“Yes.” His lips brushed close to her ear. “Ormazd!” he hissed. “Call on Ormazd in your time of strife. He will hear you.”

“But is that certain, Father?”

“Nothing is certain, my child,” the priest answered sadly. “The Lord and the Evil One both struggle for our souls. Who wins depends on what we love most. But you must pray—pray to Ormazd, the sacred name of God the Good. Pray tonight and every night, when temptation comes in the dark hours.”

She felt both his hands pressing down on her scalp as he mumbled a blessing. He signed for her to go. She pulled open the wood-panel door, pressed through the drapes and found the acolyte standing outside. Histrina had arrived specially early. Others from the village were beginning to file into the chapel now, forming a queue outside the confession rooms. She stepped silently past them, not meeting their eyes.

Outside, she realized she felt strengthened a little. Tomorrow she would be at confessional again, and the priest would ask her how she had fared during the night.

Oh, how would any of them ever be able to keep the Lord’s way were it not for these daily sessions of advice and encouragement? Without the church, she was certain she would have fallen into the torments of sin long ago.

Yet for all that, this was the first time she had dared to confess the yearnings for lechery that of late had been stealing over her.

The small, bright sun was no larger in the sky than a peppercorn, and was dipping down towards the sharp edge of the horizon. On Erspia it was never possible to see very far. One could walk to any point on the horizon in a matter of minutes. To the eye it was as if the world were no more than a shelf of rock and soil that the sun was about to slip under.

Histrina, however, had never known any other world. To her this close little scene had the homeliness of normality. Night approached and birds were twittering, flying to their nesting places in the trees. She quickened her step to retrace her path to the village.

The road wound between stone-roofed cottages. An unexpected silence greeted her as she lifted the door latch to her parents’ house. No one was there. They must be at confession, she thought. I must have missed them on the way. Oddly, she had thought they had already gone that afternoon.

Then, on the kitchen table, she found a note. Have gone to see the Arrands’ new baby. Won’t be back till late.

Unaccountably her heart sank. Somehow she didn’t want to be alone in the house during the long evening.

With an abruptness that she had begun to find frightening, the sun winked below the horizon. Darkness began.

Already, it seemed in her imagination, urges were beginning to well up in her. She lit the lamp in the living room, then knelt before the family shrine, and prayed.

“Good Lord,” she whispered, “deliver me from these unclean thoughts. Let my liking for Hugger be pure and friendly. I don’t want to dwell on his body like this, O Ormazd.”

She heard a noise, and gasped. But it was only a knock on the door. Rising, she went to open it. A handsome, smiling young man stood there. He wore a jaunty hat with a feather in it, and newly pressed shirt and breeches. In his right hand was a lance, which he leaned against the wall.

“Hugger!” she nearly shrieked.

Still smiling, he placed one foot in the door. “Aren’t you going to let me in?”

Limply her hand fell from the latch and he was in, closing the door behind him. He extended a hand. “The kitchen is no place to talk. Shouldn’t we go into the living room?”

“I suppose so. But you shouldn’t be here. My parents are out.”

“Yes, I know. I saw them going towards the Arrands.”

It distressed her that he should come here and find her alone, but it was a distress that was rapidly turning to excitement. She led him into the living room, where she immediately set herself down before the shrine and began to pray once more, silently and intently, with eyes closed.

At length she rose. Hugger was pacing the room restively.

“Why do you have your lance with you?” she asked shyly.

“I’ve been exercising with the troop. Have to stay in shape if we’re to keep the Evil One’s horde away, eh? They say it’s been growing in numbers lately.”

“Yes.”

She faced him, the lamplight falling on her pale features and making them seem as though made of porcelain. His eyes wandered down the curves of her body, discernible through her loose gown, which showed off her shapeliness most fetchingly.

“You’re looking nice,” he said gruffly. He stepped closer, put his hand on her plump arm, then suddenly caught her up and pressed her to him to give her a lingering kiss. She went limp in his arms while the kiss lasted, afterwards turning her head aside, breathing heavily.

“That’s—enough. No more.”

He held her as she tried to pull loose. “Do you remember the day before last, in the field?” he murmured breathlessly in her ear. “When we nearly …”

“No! Don’t speak of it!” In desperation she tore herself free. “We mustn’t even think such wickedness!”

She was flushed. She had felt his swollen manhood pressing against her belly when he held her. In the field—Oh Ormazd help her!—her hand had nearly …

“If we were married it wouldn’t be wicked,” he said slyly. “So why is it wicked now?”

“You know very well! If we were married we would be consecrated by the Lord. Even then, it is sinful to be too much taken up with—with—”

“With lechery.”

She nodded. Her flush turned deeper, became a blush.

Then she turned suddenly to confront him. “Have you been to confession today?”

His eyes dropped. He looked embarrassed.

“Oh, but you must go to confession every day!” Her eyes opened wide in dismay. “Nothing else can save you!”

“Well, I haven’t!” With an almost savage movement he stepped towards her again. She tried to retreat but her back was to the sideboard. He put his hands behind her shoulders and buried his face in her hair. “I didn’t dare tell the priest what’s on my mind,” he murmured. “You’re so lovely, Histrina. You drive me mad. And I know you feel the same.” His hands were hot, and they started wandering down her back, massaging her buttocks, coming round and up to squeeze her breasts.

She pushed at him, but her arms felt weak. “No! Stop that, Hugger!”

Now his breathing was so deep that she knew he was depraved. But that was not what was worrying her. What was worrying her most was that her heart was beating so loudly that it pounded in her eardrums and filled the whole room. She felt sure that he could hear this pounding as clearly as she could, and the knowledge embarrassed her.

He growled something incoherent as he dragged her away from the sideboard and forced her down on the couch. She squealed and struggled, but for the moment she forgot to call on the Lord.

Then her gown came up and she knew she was bared to him. He was staring avidly at her naked loins, while the tide of desire that surged through her drove her wild.

“No!” she cried. “No! Oh Ormazd! Ormazd! Don’t let it happen! Stop me from doing it!”

But she was doing it, for Hugger tore down his breeches, threw himself on her, and she felt him entering her. He went in with only a prick of pain, for she was wet with excitement, and soon a sort of motion began in which both of them were rocking to and fro and thrusting against one another. And it was the sweetest, most delicious thing she had ever imagined, which she could no more stop than she could have stopped the setting of the sun, for all that she wept the whole time and never ceased shrieking the name of Ormazd.

Then even that, the secret name of the Lord, became an agonized croak in her throat while an explosion of pure pleasure drenched her from top to toe.

They lay limply, but only for a short while—was it minutes or seconds? Their corrupted bodies had not finished sating themselves with each other. They started again, and this time it lasted longer, and the explosion when it came was of an even greater, more searing intensity.

They subsided. Histrina lay without an ounce of strength in her, whimpering with mortification.

She had done it! She had succumbed to the Evil One!

She sat up, drawing her knees to her chest and pulling her gown over herself as soon as Hugger got up from her. He rearranged his breeches. They looked at one another. Both were stricken.

A quavering groan escaped her lips.

Hugger slumped onto a chair near the table. He bowed his head. “You may as well know it,” he said woodenly. “Why I didn’t go to confession today. I haven’t been these three days past. I have abandoned the Good Lord. I have been won over by Ahriman.”

She put her hand to her mouth. “You spoke his secret name!”

“Like all his true followers.”

“But how could you let yourself—”

“The same way you have!” he said angrily. “This is how it happens!”

“You forced me—”

“No, I didn’t. You lusted for it, and you gave way to that lust. You could have stopped me but for that.”

He stood and paced the room, just as he had before throwing himself on her. “Three nights ago I knew I was lost to Ormazd. Yes, the priest told me to use his secret name to fight temptation. Did he tell you the same?”

She nodded dismally.

“It didn’t work, did it? Well, they say nothing is certain while Ahriman performs his work in the world. Ahriman won me.”

“Didn’t you fight him?”

“Of course!” Hugger’s face blazed. “But when temptation gets stronger and stronger there comes a point where you want only bad thoughts. That’s when Ahriman has you. You revel in what’s bad. Good thoughts fade and seem silly. After that, there’s no going back.”

He stopped pacing and pulled her roughly up from the couch. “You too! You’ve done it now. There’s no going back.”

“We must try to find forgiveness!”

He shook his head wryly. “The priests won’t help us with that. It would only encourage others. You know what will happen to us. We’ve fallen from grace and disobeyed the Lord’s commandment. At the very least we’ll be excommunicated and banished, perhaps imprisoned or even executed.”

“Let’s not let anyone know what we did! We can keep it secret.”

“From Ormazd?” Hugger smiled. “Anyway, how do you suppose you can keep anything from the priests? They’re experts. You’ll be found out the next time you walk into a confessional.”

“Then I don’t know what we can do.”

“There is only one thing. We must leave immediately, and never come back.”

“Leave? But where can we go?”

He stared at her. “You know there is only one place. We belong to Ahriman now. We must join his horde.”

“Oh, but my family, and everything! I can’t leave them!”

“You have to leave them,” Hugger said gruffly. “They’ll throw you out anyway, once they know.”

She started weeping openly then, not the hysterical crying of a few minutes previously, which was so bound up with pleasure and excitement, but a soft, quiet grieving.

“You did this to me,” she sobbed.

“Yes, so I did.” Hugger’s eyes glittered with a perverted joy. “Now we can really enjoy ourselves … do anything we want.” He started kneading her shoulders again, but then broke off abruptly.

“It will be a long journey. Get yourself a cloak. And one of your father’s mantles for me.”

“No! Please, we must think of something else.”

As she would not stir, he went himself into the next room and poked about in a cupboard until he found what he wanted. He came back and draped the cloak about her. “Come on, I want to be well away from here before morning.”

“You go,” she sniffed. “I’m staying.”

“I wouldn’t leave you to face them all, Histrina. Besides—I want you with me.”

He yanked her towards the door. She hesitated.

“Shouldn’t we leave a letter?”

“No. They’d come after us. There’s only one way to do it, and that’s just to go and never think of them again!”

“Oh, my mother! My father!”

Still weeping, she allowed him to lead her outside, where he took up his lance.

“Be quiet!” he hissed. “Do you want the whole village to hear you?”

Histrina became compliant. They stole past the huddled houses of the village, from the chinks of whose shutters vagrant light gleamed. Beyond were the fields. These were eventually crossed, bringing the two fugitives to the thin soil and scrubland that covered most of Erspia.

She was not sure which feelings they were that made her obey him—fear of what would happen if she stayed, a lickerish anticipation of the delights she would experience by going with him, or simply abject acceptance that she was Ahriman’s. All these feelings jostled within her as she left her lifetime home and set off across the narrow landscape.

The stars shone bright, casting a thin glow that made it possible to make out what was around them. The temperature had dropped but the air was not too chill; Histrina had never known it to get really cold since she had been born.

They said little during the journey. This was the first time she had wandered so far afield and there was, to be sure, a fascination in seeing parts of the world she had never set eyes on before. Not that Erspia seemed to change much as one moved across it. She was surprised, for instance, to find that the star patterns remained the same despite the distance that she and Hugger travelled. Surely things should look different if one saw them from a different angle? But all the stars did was move across the sky unchanging, just as they did at home.

For some hours they walked over the coarse grass and through soft, clinging bushes, and the night-time experience was so new to her that after a while she scarcely thought of what she was leaving behind. At about midnight Hugger called a halt for rest. They sank down on the turf. Histrina’s feet ached.

“I wish we had brought something to eat and drink,” she said.

Hugger grunted. Then he moved closer to her, until she fancied she could smell his masculine sweat. He put a hand on her thigh. “We’ll feed on love,” he said.

“Please, I’m tired,” she said. “Besides, it isn’t love. It’s … Something else.”

He leaned across and gave her a full, lingering kiss. . . .