The Fairies of Sugar Island
The Unnecessary Extravagance docked at Port Rum, bearing the Priestess Cecily Pechvogel and her entourage. The governor, his seneschal, and an uncomfortable number of soldiers were waiting for her as she disembarked.
The heat hit her with a thickness she was unprepared for. Cecily was pleased to note that the governor was wearing his ceremonial uniform even in the sweltering heat. This included a heavy ornate black jacket and a peaked cap. He was visibly sweating. If she had to be uncomfortable so did everyone else.
Cecily wore the bright, layered, puffy, robes of a Thulian priestess. Her long trail was held up off the filthy dock by silent child slaves. She was also accompanied by her four eunuch slaves and a small number of initiates with which she intended to populate the island's new clergy.
There were ten soldiers with the governor, House Baal Penal Legion by the looks of them, which Cecily didn't think was particularly welcoming. The soldiers were at least allowed a tropical uniform, which consisted of a light khaki tunic with an open collar and lapel, similar trousers and a pith helmet instead of the usual metal morion. They seemed to be a mix of peoples from Lemuria, Hyzephria, Zerzura and the islands between Cathay and Mu. All carried rifles and wore swords.
"Welcome to Sugar Island, High Priestess," said the governor "Allow me the liberty of introducing myself. I am Governor Guilhem Felrick. You may call me Guilhem. I hope you will permit me the familiarity of calling you Cecily?"
"High Priestess will do just fine," said Cecily "As you seem to be aware I am High Priestess Cecily Pechvogel."
"High Priestess it is then," said the governor, then motioning to his companion "This is my seneschal Mr. Zugzwang, if you have any needs whatsoever he will see to them with all speed. Shall I show you to the governor's manor? I have had a room prepared for you until you can make other arrangements. You may use it as long as you need."
"How very pious of you," said Cecily.
Cecily turned her head suddenly, as though reacting to a distant sound, but she quickly shrugged it off.
She, the governor and their entourages began to take the winding road through the glorified hamlet that passed for a port town on Sugar Island. The only nice buildings were the taverns and the brothels.
"You brought a lot of soldiers with you, Guilhem," said Cecily, smiling "Were you worried I was here to kill you?"
"I'm afraid that's symptomatic of a problem that greatly vexed your predecessor," said Guilhem "We seem to have something of a rebel suicide cult on our hands, and they relish in attacking at the most inopportune times. It would have been incredibly embarrassing for both of us if you had been killed just after embarking."
"Indeed," agreed Cecily "A cult you say? Some sort of local pagan religion?"
"It's the damnedest thing," said Guilhem "Back when the island was owned by House Ghulzhan they used the indigenous tribe of fairy-folk to work their plantations. I'm led to understand that there was a slave uprising of some description, House Baal captured the island and, long story short, the fairy-folk were mostly exterminated or exported."
"We don't even use much slave labor anymore," continued Guilhem "It's not cost-effective. The mortality rate is just far too high on the sugar plantations; it's a waste of expensive slaves. Instead we use indentured servants with 10-year contracts. Only a small fraction of them survive long enough to get paid."
"So these cultists who keep attacking you, they're virtually free men and women?" asked Cecily.
"They only stand to lose all the money they're owed if House Baal is overthrown. That's why, I reiterate, it is the damnedest thing. But that's not even the damnedest part. The cultists always yell mad nothings, and they often revolve around a figure called Mab or Queen Mab. I looked through the journals of some of the old governors and found references to that name. It was the chief goddess of the fairy-folk."
"Well there's your answer, then," said Cecily "Some pagan priest from this fairy tribe has survived, hidden, somewhere on the island."
"You think it could be that simple?" asked Guilhem.
"The indentureds have to be getting these ideas from somewhere," said Cecily "If they were going to organize themselves along religious lines they'd use the pagan gods of their own lands. This must be the work of indigenous clergy."
* * *
As Cecily had deduced from the governor's use of words like "mostly" and "much", there were, indeed, still some of the indigenous fairy-folk left on the island serving as slaves. They were all servants in the governor's manner, so it was easy to have them rounded up.
They were frail looking things, about 4 ft. tall, with pixie ears and candy-colored hair. They looked like sickeningly neotenous elves. Not that Cecily had ever seen an elf; her ancestor's ancestors killed all the elves when they conquered Thule Island, which was then called Valinor.
"They speak Lemurian?" Cecily asked.
"Enough to serve," Guilhem replied.
"I assume you have a torture surgeon in your employ?" asked Cecily.
"Naturally," said Guilhem.
"Then it looks like we have a place to start," said Cecily.
By nightfall all she had was a heap of dead fairies.
"They told you nothing?" Cecily had asked the torture surgeon, after he had a chance to clean off.
"On the contrary," the man said "They told me everything. Whatever they thought I wanted to hear by the end. If any of them had anything useful they'd have revealed it. They all renounced their gods before they died."
"At least we know none of them is the priest I'm seeking," said Cecily "That one wouldn't have been able to resist the opportunity to die a martyr."
She sighed.
"I'm going to bed."
* * *
Cecily couldn't sleep. The heat didn't help, it might have kept her up on its own, but the true source of her insomnia was the distant drums. Loud and unyielding the far off drum beat boomed in Cecily's head.
She lay in her large four poster bed, eyes closed, soaked in sweat, trying to force herself to sleep. The drums thumping in the distance would not permit her a moment's rest and the heat made her every second of wakefulness drag on.
Cecily tossed and turned to no avail, and in the end slept not a wink.
* * *
Cecily gave up on sleep when Mr. Zugzwang came to invite her to have breakfast with the governor. She peeled herself out of the bed and dressed in a groggy haze. She was going to need a lot of tea.
Breakfast was quite adequate. It consisted of poached eggs, bacon rashers, candied shrimps, kippers, hot and cold chicken, jellies, bread and, thankfully, tea. Cecily took a lot of sugar in hers but this didn't prove to be a problem.
The governor wasn't wearing his jacket to breakfast, just a white blouse. Cecily was not impressed but couldn't seem to convey this to the governor with disapproving looks.
"I'm quite certain I know where the priest I'm looking for is now," said Cecily.
"Oh yes?" asked Guilhem, bits of egg falling from his lips.
Cecily sighed inwardly.
"They must be with the people living in the jungle," she said "The ones who beat the drums all night."
"Excuse me?" asked Guilhem.
"The people who beat drums all night last night," said Cecily, impatient "The ones in the jungle. I'll wager that's where my priest is living."
"No one lives in the jungle, High Priestess, I assure you," said Guilhem "Nothing human could survive in the untamed parts of Sugar Island."
"Then where was the drum beat coming from?" she asked "I could have sworn it was coming from the jungle."
"I wasn't aware of any drum beat," said Guilhem "Mr. Zugzwang?"
"I didn't happen to hear this particular drum beat," admitted Mr. Zugzwang.
"You didn't hear it?" asked Cecily "I couldn't sleep for all the noise."
"Perhaps it was a dream?" offered Guilhem.
"It wasn't a dream," said Cecily, incensed "I want you to send some men into the jungle to try and flush out the drummers."
"Even if there were people able to survive in the jungle," said Guilhem "It would be suicide sending men in there to blindly look for them. I'm under attack by a mad cult; I can't afford to spare the soldiers."
"Don't be short-sighted," Cecily snapped.
She quickly recomposed herself.
"I apologize," she said "I'll try to find another solution but I want to leave this door open. You'll never weed this cult out taking a defensive position forever."
Cecily excused herself and left. She spent the rest of the day brooding.
* * *
That night the drums continued, unabated. They were impossible to ignore. Cecily had no idea how the other two could have slept through the racket.
She was mentally and physically exhausted, but still sleep would not come. Instead she lay in bed cooking in her own sweat.
For the second night in a row Cecily got no sleep.
* * *
The usually meticulously put-together priestess arrived looking disheveled to breakfast, with bags under her eyes.
"I suppose you didn't hear any drums last night either, then?" asked Cecily.
"I can't say that I did, no," replied Guilhem.
"Of course not," said Cecily, her politeness fraying at the edges "You must all be used to it by now, you and everyone else on this mad island. But there are people out there in the jungle, laughing at you, at us, at Thule herself. They're laughing at you, and they're killing your men and they know you don't have the nerve to come in there after them. You're not going to do a damn thing and it's this big damn joke isn't it?"
"Are you feeling alright?" asked Guilhem.
"I haven't slept in two nights because the damned drums, how the bloody hell do you think I'm feeling? I'm marvelous. I feel simply marvelous," said Cecily, reddening.
"I didn't mean to offend," said Guilhem.
"What I find offensive is that you don't treat your job as governor with the seriousness it is due," said Cecily.
She got up from the table and began to march off, her slaves running scared behind her.
"Where are you going?" Guilhem yelled after her.
"To personally inspect the plantations for signs of pagan worship," Cecily yelled back "Someone has to compensate for your inadequacies."
* * *
Cecily sat in her litter, born along Sugar Island's main road by her four eunuch slaves. She was stewing, both in the heat and her own dark thoughts. She decided she was going to take her frustration out on the indentureds once she arrived at the first plantation. She was also probably going to kill Guilhem later. Poison maybe, she was sure she had something he wouldn't have an immunity to.
Cecily was going over what pharmaceuticals she had brought with her in her mind when she heard it and lost all train of thought. The drums. The distant drums, so much closer than ever before and now irrefutable.
"That!" yelled Cecily "Do you hear that?"
The slaves said nothing, not sure if they were being addressed.
"The drums! You must hear it!" Cecily raged "The thumping drum beat coming from there!"
She pointed towards the area where cleared land began to give way to the jungle. The slaves just stared at her.
"Useless!" she yelled "All of you!"
She climbed out of the litter and slid to the ground. She began to run towards the jungle, her robes trailing behind her in the dirt. Her slaves watched as Cecily disappeared into the untamed parts of Sugar Island.
Branches and stones quickly tore her robes to shreds, while her long hair became infested with leaves and twigs. Cecily's skin was scratched and bleeding from dozens of tiny nicks, but she pressed on deeper into the thickening jungle.
She was exhausted, sweating away the last of her body's moisture. She brought no food or water with her, had no plan other than to follow the sound of the drums. With every stumbling, painful step she got closer to the source of the noise, to her nemesis the pagan priest, and so she beat on.
Finally she came to a cave and she could hear the drumming coming from within. She licked her dry lips with her dry tongue and summoned the last of her energy to run towards it. She stumbled inside.
Inside the cave the world seemed to melt away, leaving a figure that Cecily's vocabulary could not hope to capture. It was as though everything in her life up until this point had been an illusion, and the woman before her was the first glimpse of reality she had ever seen. Her flowing, shimmery dress was made of every color Cecily could name, and hundreds more from other dimensions never before seen by humans. She was beautiful, not like a human but like an idea or a place. Her beauty was full of a primordial menace that chilled Cecily to her soul.
Cecily had always been an atheist, in spite of her status as a priestess. Like the rest of Thule's clergy, believers or not, she saw the priesthood as a means to political power. Now she was in the presence of a living goddess and faith burned into her like fire.
"Prostrate yourself mortal, for you are in the presence of Oonagh, the Fairy Goddess, whom the Sugar Islanders called Queen Mab and whom your people know as Titania."
Oonagh spoke in a language that Cecily instantly understood despite having never heard it in her life, and which made her native Lemurian look like a child's toy.
Cecily fell to her knees. The drums intensified.
"I have chosen you, little thing, to speak my word to the ignorant. Once the goddess of fertility and law, I am now death and chaos. The end is come. Dance, revel, drink and slaughter for there is no tomorrow."
* * *
The priestess comes to the baracoons at night, with tattered earthen robes and leaves in her hair. She comes from the wild untamed places, to remind men that they are free and to teach them to drink the moonbeams.
Then, when they're good and drunk, she reminds them who their real enemies are.
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