Harper's Pathos

Chapter Eight: The Temple of Bas

Harper's eyelids lifted with the difficulty of a heavy, iron gate. As they slowly creaked open, one thing began to grow clear. While they didn't know where they were specifically, it was surely no longer the desert wasteland.

"Morgan?" their first thought was to call out to their friend. Before the room even came into focus, before they could place any tactile sensations or gather any detail about the area around, their still dry voice croaked the name of the friend they'd worked so hard to save.

"If you refer to the tall girl of pale skin, she is safe. Not yet conscious, but safe," the mature and smooth voice of a middle-aged woman responded. The voice was thick with an accent that Harper assumed was Nayasian.

The nephilim leaned up to get a view of the woman, as well as the room. The woman was tall, though not so much as Morgan, and had black hair braided and beaded into what looked like hundreds of tresses. Her skin was a dark ebony that juxtaposed beautifully with the white, robe-like gown that hung from her shoulders. Decorating her arms and neck were various bracelets and necklaces of gold and lapis. The sharp features of her face were decorated and highlighted with black kohl and other makeup. Her regal form stood proudly in the doorway, waiting for Harper to collect their bearings.

The room itself was built of limestone. The walls were carved with various patterns and painted in several colors, particularly red, blue, and yellow. Lining the floor was a layer of sandy-brown colored stone tiles, polished to a glossy sheen. Harper lay on a simple cot of dark wood with a thin, cotton mattress for support. As they became aware of their tactile senses once more, they could feel a light, linen sheet laying across much of their still-burnt skin.

Speaking of their skin, the nephilim felt a small tinge of embarrassment when they realized how much of it was bare. Their shirt was gone, replaced with some kind of cloth bindings across their chest to protect their modesty. They wore a form fitting pair of pants, though not the ones they had worn before. Someone had apparently dressed them.

The woman made her way to the side of Harper's cot, and from a small, glass table, picked up a pitcher. Harper's eyes widened. Water. "We gave you fluids as best we could while you slept, but is difficult to do while one is unconscious. Please, drink."

The small traveler's body was still weak and shaking, but they greedily chugged down much of the water. Feeling the moisture hit their lips was like being brought back from the grave. They gasped for air after sucking down several gulps from the pitcher, "Thank you," they said between long drinks.

As the woman placed the pitcher back on the table, she stated, "Your snake bite has been treated as well."

Harper blinked several times. They noticed the only headache they had was the one that seemed to develop from their hunger. "Thank you for that, as well."

The woman nodded, "You were bitten by a nupep cobra. When boiled and watered down, the venom is quite a powerful hallucinogen and painkiller. When injected with the pure toxin, however, even some of the strongest men and women are brought down. How long did the venom take to rob you of consciousness?"

They thought for a moment, "Maybe a week? I'm not sure. It's all kind of a blur."

Her eyebrows raised, "A week? That's quite remarkable, young one. Though, you are quite lucky that Natah happened upon you. Clever that you caused that pillar of dust, as well, else she would not have seen you." The woman seemed to consider them for a moment, "What are you called, young survivor?'

"Harper," this was an easy enough question to answer, "And you?"

"Oh, of course. You surely wonder where you are, as well," the woman smiled, "I am called Kiya, a High Priestess of Bas, the Nighttime Guardian of the Desert. This is one of several temples to our Lady Bas in the Southern half of Nayak."