In the Temple of Gar the Desecrator

It would be easy for me to say that we were lured inside. However, honesty commands me to confess that there was something more to it. Something deep within me, something unspeaking and dark, wanted me to enter and partake of the unknown but somehow very real unearthly pleasures that surely awaited me there.

Be that as it may, we proceeded through the gate. What lay beyond was quite different from what we had encountered so far. We found ourselves in a dark, gloomy, cavernous hall. Its walls and floor were of a glossy black stone not unlike what we had seen outside but, instead of being constructed from separate blocks, these appeared to be hewn out of the rock itself, although we could see no tool marks in evidence of this. It was as if the mountain within which we now stood had been hollowed out, by who knows what arcane artifice and skill. The vault was enormous, its walls and floor fairly even, with only the texture of the rock detracting from what would otherwise have have been a perfect smoothness.

Within the vast space of the hall stood a number of rectangular stone biers or altars, arranged in a semicircle around what appeared to be a vast fire pit. They were each about seven feet in length, four feet wide and three high. The stone from which they had been made had been finished and polished to mirror smoothness and high gloss, and on all sides they bore the same alien, spidery script we had seen over both gates leading to this hall.

But that was not the hall's most disconcerting feature. In the wall beyond the fire pit, faced by the semicircle of altars, was set a statue that was chilling to behold. Rendered in the same black glossy stone as had been used for the sculptures in the corridor leading up to this vault was a demonic figure, somewhat larger than a man. Its face bespoke a level of cruelty beyond imagining, and its hide was reminiscent of a snake's skin, although its features were not reptilian in nature. Its shoulders were broad and its arms massive, both suggesting great strength, and its hands were great and claw-like. Its legs appeared muscular but were not overly heavy, and between them hung down a member that could only be called disproportionately large. Its posture was slightly crouching, as if it was about to spring and rend some luckless victim with its claws.

This demonic statue stood in a large yet shallow niche set within the wall, as if it had been sculpted from the very stone of the mountain at that very spot. Yet it differed from the wall in one respect: the stone from which it had been carved possessed an unattainable quality that some how suggested living flesh. To this very day I am unable to explain what it was that gave me this impression, but I distinctly felt life within this horrifying statue! I involuntary took a step toward it.

"Halt!" a voice echoed through the hall.

Needless to say this gave us quite a start. Seeing as the voice originated from the other side of the hall, we turned as one and beheld a woman dressed in a dark green hooded cloak and holding a torch. Only from her voice I knew she was a woman, as the distance, the darkness and the cloak all conspired to conceal her features. Yet I could see that her bearing was regal, in the manner of one who possesses vast powers and is accustomed to exercising them. However, what business a woman could have in so insalubrious a place as this I could not even speculate at.

"Do not approach," she said as she strode forward, slowly yet deliberately. "You are not worthy."

"Who are you, madam, if I may be so bold to ask," Barstow said. "I must confess that we had not expected to find anyone here. My name is--"

"Your names are of no importance here," she said, her voice somehow filling the vast space of the hall. "You will no longer have any need for them. I am the High Priestess of Gar the Desecrator. You have entered his temple. You shall not leave it."

With that, she raised her hand. Immediately a grinding noise filled the hall, as if vast blocks of stone were dragged across each other, and a distinct vibration could be felt through the floor. Scarcely a moment later I found myself struggling to stay on my feet. This was puzzling to me at first, for the vibration was not so strong that it should rob me of my footing, yet I saw my companions reel about like drunkards also.

Then my feet told me what my eyes had failed to detect through the gloom: the floor had begun to tilt under us. The section on which we were stood was no longer horizontal, but had assumed an angle that grew steeper with every passing moment. Not two heartbeats later the rotation had progressed to a point where it was impossible to retain our footing, and we slid helplessly down the slope thus formed and into the chasm that had opened under us.

The cries of my companions joined my own, and for a brief but terrifying moment I was convinced that we were about to fall to our deaths, plunging into unfathomable depths only to have our flesh crushed and our bones shattered upon reaching the bottom of that vast chasm. Instead our descent was brief, and the impact at the end of it lessened by a thick layer of straw that arrested our fall with nary a bruise.

In the dim light I could see how the section of the floor above us continued to rotate until it had reversed itself entirely, closing the gap through which we had fallen. But even before it had completed this process I suddenly became aware of a cloyingly sweet smell, and by the last rays of light that shone through the slowly closing gap above us I saw a green cloud of vapor or gas roll into the room in which we now found ourselves, filling it, and I remember no more.

It was impossible to determine how much time had passed when I woke. I slowly regained consciousness and I gradually realized that the gas or vapor must have been some powerful narcotic. After a few moments I tried to move and, much to my dismay, discovered that I had been put in chains while I dozed.

A single torch mounted on the wall dimly illuminated our quarters. We found ourselves in a large cell with a low ceiling. The walls appeared to be made from roughly hewn stone blocks and a layer of straw covered the floor. A heavy wooden door, bound by steel bands, was set into the wall near the corner of this dungeon. And a dungeon it clearly was, for we all had shackles fitted around our wrists and ankles, connected by means of various lengths of chain to large steel rings set into the wall, an arrangement that allowed us some small freedom of movement as we sat on the floor with our backs against the wall.

However, one thing was even more worrying than our obvious incarceration: there were only five of us. One was missing.

"Where is Jackson?" I asked, noting as I did so that my voice sounded raspy and hoarse.

My remaining companions moved sluggishly, obviously still struggling to shake off the effects of the narcotic as much as I was.

"They came and took him," Barstow said. He coughed, then continued. "I don't know how long we have been here. I myself woke up not half an hour ago. He appeared fully conscious when I woke, perhaps because he is the youngest and most resilient among us. Four hooded guards came and took him. Where to, or why, none of us know."

"What shall we do now?" Delarousse asked. "This is quite a pickle to find ourselves in, and no mistake."

"First and foremost, we should attempt negotiation," I said. "We are being detained unlawfully, if law there is in these parts, and finding out who these people are and what plans they have with us should be our prime concern. There must be some purpose for which they want us. That might give us a bargaining position of sorts."

"I wish you good luck with that," said Barstow, his facial expression morose. "The guards who collected poor Jackson did not utter a word."

"Have you a better suggestion to offer?" Bradford asked him. "We are in chains, by all that is holy! What options do we have?"

"At the very least we should not despair," Gardner replied. "If we keep our wits about us and our spirits up, some small opportunity may arise to improve upon our situation."

"I can't but agree," I said calmly. "Gardner is indubitably correct."

But inwardly I did not feel so confident.

We spent the time that followed in silence, until something happened that proved the fears I am sure we all felt to be justified. A cry came through the closed door, sounding very much like the voice of a man in agony.

"He is being tortured!" Barstow exclaimed. "We have to do something!"

None of us replied, our inability to take any action at all being obvious. We merely sat there and looked at each other, and I am sure that the dismay and fear I saw on the faces of my companions was visible on my own in equal measure.

For a while nothing else occurred, and I'm sure we all wondered what horrors poor Jackson might be subjected to at that very moment. Then another cry could be heard, louder and longer this time. My mind raced to manufacture all sorts of horrible fates that might befall our young companion, and the expressions of dismay and upset on my companions' faces clearly indicated that their thoughts ran along similar lines. I trust I need not detail what this did to our morale: suffice it to say I felt a despair within the depths of my heart that I had never known before.

Several more cries followed, minutes apart, each one louder than the previous one, the interval between these occurrences gradually diminishing, until several raw, loud screams could be heard in relatively rapid succession. Then it grew quiet, and I am sure the reader can imagine our fears as to the reason of this sudden silence.

It was not long thereafter when I suddenly heard the door to our cell being unbarred, followed by the sound of heavy locks being disengaged. Then the door opened, slowly and ponderously, and four robed and hooded figures strode in. Between them they bore the body of poor Jackson. He was naked and unconscious.

"What have you done to him, you savages?" Barstow cried. "You haven't the right!"

The guards ignored him and carried Jackson to the first available chain which hung from the wall. They proceeded to shackle him, fastening the locking pins with some sort of key, and left him there.

From what I could see he displayed no outward sign of injury whatsoever. I detected no wounds, bruises or other signs of physical damage. Instead his infirmity appeared to stem mainly from exhaustion, for even in his unconscious state his appearance was that of one who has been taken to the limit of endurance and, having expended all his energy, has finally succumbed, the last of his strength utterly depleted. His limbs, however, appeared tense and rigid.

"What do you want from us?" I asked the guards, remembering my earlier resolve to attempt negotiations. "I'm sure we can come to some form of understanding. Remember that if we don't return soon, the crew of our ship will come to look for us in force."

I might as well have addressed the cold, damp walls with my appeal. The guards ignored me completely and gave not a single indication that they had even heard me. Instead they turned to Barstow and began to remove his shackles.

"Leave him alone!" Delarousse demanded. But he, too, was ignored.

Having unshackled Barstow, the guards dragged him to his feet and, holding him firmly, proceeded toward the door. The ghastly expression of horror on his face is something that will continue to haunt me for the rest of my days. As soon as the guards had made their exit with their prisoner the door closed and was barred and locked from the outside.

Over the course of the next two hours or so, by my estimate, there followed essentially a repetition of what had occurred before. We kept our silence. I suppose none of us trusted himself to speak, and in any event there was very little left to say. The only sound was our breathing, the cries and screams penetrating our cell from the outside, and the spluttering of the torch on the wall next to the door.

Jackson had not stirred, much less regained consciousness when the guards, after what seemed an interminable period, returned. They brought in Barstow, who was now in a condition similar to that of young Jackson. Again I noted the absence of any outward sign of physical trauma such as could be expected from torture, as well as the overall impression of utter exhaustion that overlaid his slack and unmoving features, and the inexplicable rigidity of his limbs.

Then the guards turned to me, and honesty compels me to admit that the fear that I felt within me nigh unmanned me. A feeling of faintness and dizziness overtook me, my vision dimmed as if it was about to fail me, and the hollow pit of my stomach churned. But then, somehow, I found some steel within my backbone. Overcoming my trepidation, I vowed that if I was to be led like a lamb to the slaughter, I would at least walk to my doom with such measure of dignity and of composure of manner as I could bring to bear in this darkest of hours. Therefore, as soon as I had been released from my bonds, I stood up even before the guards could haul me to my feet.

"Well then, gentlemen, shall we be about it?" I asked, addressing the nearest of my captors.

Since I had not expected to receive a response, I was not disappointed. The robed quartet took hold of my arms and shoulders and led me to the door. True to my earlier resolve I did not struggle but maintained my aplomb, keeping my bearing straight and my head high.

My captors ushered me out of the cell and into a narrow corridor. It was unlit, but a fifth guard, robed and hooded like the first four, bore a torch that provided sufficient illumination. I was walked down the passage, the walls of which were damp and oozing with an unwholesome looking green lichen of a variety I had not encountered before. Short though the corridor was, I felt as if we made our way through the bowels of the mountain, surrounded by Heaven may know how much stone above, below and beside us. We passed two other doors of a construction similar to the one that gave access to our cell. Both were barred with a heavy wooden beam and fitted with great steel locks. I could only assume these alighted into more cells like ours, and I pitied the luckless souls that might occupy them.

Before long we approached the end of the corridor. Our torchbearer, who had led the way, stood aside and we entered the vast hall that our party had left so quickly and unexpectedly, how long ago? It was impossible to say, since none of us knew how much time had passed while we were comatose.

Upon our first entry we had found the hall dark and empty. Now it was lit by various torches lining the walls, and a number of braziers were placed at irregular intervals across the floor, providing a ruddy glow and a measure of warmth, although they did little to dispel the pervasive dampness.

But none of this is what caught my eye. Instead my gaze was drawn to the robed figures that stood behind the half circle of stone biers or altars. (I shall refer to them as altars henceforth, since that seems the more appropriate designation.) They stood there like statues, each facing the fire pit at the center of the semi-circle formed by the altars. Inside the pit a fire smoldered, burning low with sickly green-tinged flames and producing a small column of greenish smoke which rose vertically in the still air until it lost itself in the darkness of the stone rafters. It was as if some noxious chemical had been added to the fire, although I somehow sensed this not to be the case.

The demonic statue facing the fire pit from the other side had also subtly changed, and once again this was something I sensed rather than saw. The surface of the statue seemed to have a slightly different hue somehow and appeared to have lost some of its stony character, although I was unable to explain in what sense and still cannot properly describe.

The guards, still holding my arms and shoulders firmly, led me toward the altar in the middle. Its surface was smooth, clean and glossy. I had expected to see instruments of torture and various traces of their use there, following the cries we had heard from poor Jackson and Barstow, but none of these were in evidence.

When we reached the central altar, one of the figures strode forward. When she spoke I recognized the voice: this was the woman whom we had encountered earlier when we first entered the hall and who had introduced herself as a High Priestess.

"You are in the temple of Gar the Desecrator," she said, addressing me. "We all serve him. So will you, mortal one."

"Madam, I must protest," I said. "You have not the right to detain me, or any of us."

She raised her hands to remove the hood of her robe, revealing a visage which both startled and intrigued me. First and foremost, she was completely bald. There was not a single hair to be seen on her head; not even eyebrows adorned her face. Her skin was white as marble, and her eyes were a pale shade of gray.

The lines of her face, however, were what held my attention, for her features were quite exotic. Her forehead was high and smooth, her eyes almond-shaped, her nose straight and regal. Her unnaturally pale skin notwithstanding, she was certainly no member of the Caucasian race, not did her features resemble those of any other race of Man that I knew of. Furthermore, although hers was the unwrinkled and unblemished skin of a woman in the prime of life, there was something ancient about her, something unnatural that somehow hinted at a passing of years far beyond the normal span allotted to Man.

She ignored my words and instead nodded to my guards, who responded by gripping me tightly, and as the dim light that filled the cavernous hall fell into the hoods they wore I saw, much to my astonishment, that they were also women!

The duo in front of me unbuttoned my coat and removed it. They then proceeded to undress me. I objected strenuously, of course, but to no effect whatsoever. What they had begun was done to me in full, and before long I found myself completely divested of my attire. Needless to say, I felt extremely disconcerted at this point, standing there so denuded, because along with my protection against the elements I felt also robbed of my dignity. My nudity in the presence of these women was most inappropriate. Yet my protestations went unheeded.

My guards then took hold of my upper arms and ankles to bodily lift me off the floor. Before I knew it, they had carried me to the altar and placed me upon it. The sensation was a strange one: instead of the cold stone I had expected, its surface was warm and somehow felt strangely alive. Even more peculiar was the fact that it seemed to attract me, and I felt myself entirely unable to lift myself off the smooth surface even a fraction of an inch. My guards had positioned me with my legs slightly spread and my arms raised, so that my body formed a large letter 'X', and with a shock I realized that this posture was identical to that of the statues lining the corridor through which we had entered this hall!

Thus restrained, by what invisible power I knew not, I found myself completely helpless. The strange attraction held my body firmly against all my efforts and, although I strove mightily, all my attempts to remove myself from this invisible embrace proved entirely fruitless. Only my head seemed exempt from whatever influence emanated from the altar upon which I lay, and I lifted it to protest this unacceptable treatment.

However, at that instant the high priestess lifted her hands to the front of her robe, and the garment fell to the floor, thus revealing her body, and my words died in my throat before I could utter them.

She was of exquisite beauty. Her neck was slender, and her shoulders were perfectly symmetrical, framing delicately chiseled collar bones. Her high breasts were large yet firm, full and round, and crowned with pink tips which swelled visibly in the cool air of the cavern. Her waist was slender, the swell of her hips was smooth and round, and her slim legs were perfectly toned. Even her feet were sculpted to perfection. Her skin was unblemished and creamy and, like her head, entirely hairless. Even the curls that normally adorn the female pudendum were absent: her sex was as devoid of hair as that of a newborn babe. In fact there was not a single wisp or hair in evidence anywhere on her body.