The Prophecy of Water | ✔️ 🎖 [2018 Wattys Shortlister]

CHAPTER 4-The Desiccation Ceremony

"The man standing before you questions the existence of the sublime Mind!" The village elder's voice boomed across the market square.

The herd of villagers stomped their feet in unison as an oncoming stampede.

"Infidel!" A stout, angry woman with a prominent wart on her cheek hurled a rock at the prisoner. It bounced off of the wooden cage bars where he was kept.

The elder raised his palm and silence ensued.

"He dares to doubt the rectangularity of the Squareworld! He rejects the wise teachings of the House of Creed."

"Kill the infidel! Kill him!" The beehive chanted, blinking with tiny, insectoid eyes.

"Deron of the Wells, I condemn you to death by Desiccation!"

"Desiccation!" The crowd echoed as one.

Drian nodded. He touched the grey swirling symbol of the House of Creed on his chest.

This movement was soothing to him and had been from an early age.

The man was an evil non-believer.

The punishment was just.

"Let the execution begin!"

A tall, slender silhouette clad in black garb approached atop a majestic gargantuan War Dog.

Drian wondered what it would be like to paint a portrait of the two; to immortalize the scene before him.

The rider wielded a lance with confidence and calm.

Upon dismounting, he advanced towards the cage without haste, carrying death upon his palms.

The convict whimpered and scurried away convict sat up, resigned. He showed his teeth and said defiantly, "The Sceptagogs will find out." The Vigils' eyes met, and they let out simultaneous, mighty ripping bellow: "Hoi!" Each of the individual spears skillfully pierced the offender's brain, heart, abdomen and member between his legs.

"The abbots of House of Creed shall now perform the rite of the last confession."

A cold, clammy palm invaded Drian's shoulder. "Drian. It's time."

Drian turned around to face Kamil, the head abbot. "I am ready."

Kamil nodded, revealing a derelict scar on his lip that stretched all the way to the root of his left ear.

As he approached the cage with Kamil, Drian observed water trickling out from the already defeated flesh.

Any moment now, he thought.

Kamil and Drian approach the cage. The Last Confession.

The man was the infidel.

He almost looked away,

The Senior Abbot ran his hands over his black robes, smoothing them over as if trying to get himself ready for a festive event. A soft half-smile played around his thin mouth. "You must carry out the Final We have enough proof that he is one of the Sceptagogs. You know that," Kamil said as if explaining the simple calculation to a child who didn't comprehend it.

Drian wished to smack him across his scar, split his jaw open, and throw him into the dirt.

Kamil and his sentence. So cruel. Infidels should not be punished with Desiccation.

Instead, a short utter: "Yes, Senior Abbot," slid from his tongue as Drian listlessly abandoned the edge of the cliff. Time to approach the Desiccation Cage.