ARIESTILES CHAPTER 5
The journey from Bythos to the temple ..
🕑 Added 2021-12-10 02:39:38 +0000 UTC
ARIESTILES CHAPTER 5
The journey from Bythos to the temple was a day journey but treacherous. Ariestiles had to give up his horse halfway up the slope due to the rough conditions of the ancient road. He left the warmth of Bythos’ valley and was greeted with the cold deafening howling winds that whipped around the mountain. He pulled his cape around his body to shelter himself from the cold but to no avail. The cold wind and snow pounded against his body so hard that even his bones were cold. The road up the mountain turned into a path then into crumbling steps. His powerful legs tried to balance himself on the narrow rocky path as the wind and snow pounded him from all sides. One slip and he would fall hundreds of feet to his death.
The ancient path suddenly approached a cave, whose entrance was sculpted into a great arch flanked by columns, etched out of the stone of the mountain. By each column were statues of handsome warriors standing guard. They were naked and their impressive phallus stood straight out. Both looked as if they were sculpted from the purest marble by the most brilliant masters of all time. Every detail was flawless. Ariestiles knew he had reached the entrance to the temple. He drew his sword and entered the cave cautiously. The cave was pitch black and he had to make his way by mere touch. As he went deeper into the tunnel, the sound of the wind slowly faded and instead he started to hear the sound of running water in the distance. A light grew visible in the distance out of the pitch blackness. As Ariestiles proceeded toward the light, it grew brighter and the air began to grow warmer.
Ariestiles couldn't believe his eyes as he emerged from the cave. He was standing in what appeared to be a crater at the top of the mountain. A lust jungle surrendered a pool of crystal clear water which was fed by a great waterfall running down from the north side of the crater’s wall. Birds and insects were chirping in the background, a pleasant change of the howling winds outside of the paradise. In fact, Ariestiles thought he was indeed transferred to distant paradise.
On the rocks by the edge of the lake stood, frozen in time, a muscular prince of Bythos. His long mane of hair, chiseled in stone, appeared to flow down to his muscular shoulders. The prince’s beautiful face was perfectly etched in stone, down to the trim manly beard. Even the details of the kilt wrapped around the warrior’s waist was impeccable. Ariestiles eyes grew with fear. He remembered the legends about the ancient Gordans priests, which Medusus had descended from. They were said to have the ability to make a man their slave by merely looking into their eyes and make a man into a statue of stone by a mere touch. Ariestiles spun around, drawing his sword and shield for battle. Then he heard the wicked laugh, a horrible, terrifying screech. Ariestiles turned in the direction of the screeching, but it was coming from all sides of him.
Medusus moved in the shadows around the lake, taunting the warrior. Foolish youth, Medusus hissed as he moved around the jungle, getting so close to Ariestiles without the younger man sensing him. The old sorcerer was impressed by Ariestiles’ beauty. The bare thighs were large and powerful and the arms thick and well defined. He could even make out the perfectly formed buttocks as the armor apron rose from the the side as the warrior turned in search for him. The muscles were tense for battle.
This garden has always been Medusus’ favorite in greeting each year’s tribute. He always thought it was fitting that Isassius would be present when he took a new slave each year. Isassius, the prince who now adores the rocks on the edge of the lake, was the first tribute to the god J’ong-Ra. Medusus was in love with the muscular prince and desired him more than any man. The sorcerer was born with bitter bones and walked with a limp. He was considered deformed and therefore an outcast. Unfit for military service he turned to the priesthoods. With his desires for other men he was drawn to the ancient worship of J’ong-Ra and his Gordon priesthood. The Gordon’s taught him many forbidden secrets. When he wasn’t studying the ancient texts and mastering the magic of the Gordon’s, the deformed priest would watch the brave prince with lust, as Isassius practiced daily for battle. He admired the smooth, flowing muscles of Prince Isassius, as he wrestled and trained naked. His great mane of blonde hair flying in the wind. His incredible muscles would be covered in a thin layer of sweat. It was said that few could escape the power of Isassius’ thighs.
Each year, on the day of the festival of J’ong-Ra, the royal family of Bythos journeyed to the temple and monastery high on top of Mount Bythia. Medusus once again stood in awe as Isassius stood in his father's place for the ritual ceremonies. King Korrd, Isassius’ father, was distancing himself from the worship of J’ong-Ra, and was embracing the new cults of Apollo and Zeus. Isassius looked so beautiful with his muscular bare chest and the pure white toga wrapped around his lean waist, that the youthful priest of J’ong-Ra got the courage to approach the prince and bare his love for him. Isassius has always been kind to Medusus. Isassius stood in silence for a while, and then to Medusus’ horror, roared in laughter at the weak, deformed priest. Medusus was humiliated as the muscular Isassius belittled him in front of everyone.
Upon hearing of the incident, King Korrd mock outraged over his son’s “disgrace” at being propositioned by a perverted priest. Using the incident to secure the support of the new cults, Korrd ordered all of J’ong-Ra’s temples closed and statues destroyed. He even had the indignity of pillaging the rich monastery and great temple high on top of Mount Bythia. Hundreds of Gordon priests were slaughtered.
It was two nights later that Medusus emerged from his hiding spot he found the once beautiful temple ransacked and in ruins. Medusus limped into the temple’s inner chamber and knelt before the seated statue of J’ong-Ra. A storm was brewing heavily over the mountain and Bythos, with loud thundering and bright lightening. The lightning flashes illuminated the temple interior and the white statue of the god. The statue was of the nude younger man sitting, with its thick phallus standing proud from its lap.
“Oh, great lord J’ong-Ra, bring me the strength to avenge the humiliation that the people of Bythos reaped on you,” Medusus cried out at the statue.
The thunder and lightning grew more intense and louder. A voice came from all around him. It was clear and powerful, but Medusus was not afraid. “Go and avenge me. I give you the secret knowledge of the Gordon’s and my power, including that of long life. Take the Cylon and ravish those that betrayed me and humiliated you.”
From the sky a great winged creature flew into the temple. Although the creature was horrific, Medusus felt no fear as he mounted the creature and flew out into the night. The great creature swooped down upon the unexpecting people of Bythos, raining death and destruction on the city and fields that surrounded it. The fires, set by the Cylon, were so intense and massive that they blocked out the sun for thirty days. The once beautiful, thriving city was reduced to ruins. King Korrd and his beautiful son prince Isassius prayed to their new gods for help but none came to help. Each day the Cylon returned and rained more destruction down on the poor people.
On the fifth day, the King and his prince met with the High Council. The once great hall was in disarray as statues of Apollo, Aries, Hera, and Zeus lay broken on the floor from the previous day's attack. The king sat in defeat as his senators yelled and denounced him. They pleaded to him to call for help from neighboring kingdoms or abandon the city. However, the truth was that the Cylon was not allowing anyone to leave the valley, massagers nor common man. Suddenly the burnt bronze doors of the great hall were thrown open with great force, as a small man in the long dark hooded cloak of a Gordon priest entered the hall, the hood concealing his face. Isassius jumped in front of his father with a sword drawn. He looked so brave in his gold armor as he stood to defend his king, his powerful bare legs and arms poised for battle. Two guards on each side of the stranger tried to rush the intruder but with a mere wave of the man’s hands, the guards were sent flying across the hall.
“Hear me, King Korrd,” the stranger’s voice was loud and booming as it echoed off the walls of the great hall. “You have offended the god J’ong-Ra and his retribution will continue until the people of Bythos repay him for their treachery. In five days, on the winter solstice, the holy day of J’ong-Ra and his brother Kronos, the most handsome of your warriors must be sent to the temple as tribute to the god. Thereafter, every year on that day the tribute must be repeated, or the Cylon will return and completely destroy Bythos to the last man, woman, and infant. The Cylon will not attack until then but if no tribute is received at the great temple on mount Bytha by the morning after the solstice then the Cylon will return.”
The king pushed past Isassius but before he could speak, the robed figure was gone.
The cowering senators stood and began to shout, “you heard him. A tribute must be offered.”
“You brought this on us for angering the god.”
“There is only one choice on who the first sacrifice must be,” a senator yelled.
Defeatedly Korrd turned and placed his hand on Isassius’ shoulder for support. His fingers gently stroked the younger man’s long hair. The choice was obvious to everyone. Isassius was the fairest and most muscular of the warriors of Bythos, and it was fitting that the son of the king that angered the god would be the first sacrifice.
