Belly of the Beast by Warren Thomas (story books for 5 year olds txt) 📕

former priesthood, who were all either dead or His mindless magically-induced slaves.

            “How goes the work in the other temples?” Dakar said as he started for the door.

            He could tell by Mogens’ reluctance to answer the question meant He didn’t want to know. But a question had been asked, and His High Priest had no choice but to answer, no matter how vile the answer would taste.

            “The same as this temple, Divine Master,” was the grim answer. “All the temples knew we were coming, and used their time well in laying traps for us. No trap is repeated anywhere else in the city, making each temple we desecrate a new, deadly experience.”

            What Mogens didn’t know was the very real pain Dakar felt every time one of His servants perished. He was eternally “linked” to them, their pain was His pain. But pain was the least of His concerns, for priests provided living channels of life force flowing to Him. Each priest was the equivalent of a living High Altar, endlessly feeding His Godly powers. The more priests and altars, the greater His power, and vice-versa. Only human sacrifice, which allowed him to “eat” the living soul of a mortal, gave Him more nourishment, more strength and power.

            A deep “oulm” rolled from His assembled priesthood as they prostrated themselves to either side of His path to the High Altar. They were two ranks deep along the aisle, and rightly should’ve been ten ranks deep. The Arisens were insidious in the ways They decimated His servants, and craven in Their avoidance of face-to-face confrontations.

            Back-stabbing wretches, He thought, suppressing a growl so He didn’t frighten His priests. The last time He did, three priests died of strokes in their fear. He couldn’t afford such a luxury as that, at least not yet.

            “Prepare for human sacrifices at all My temples, in all My cities,” He said as He marched toward the great golden throne beside His High Altar. Mogens had the throne brought over from the royal castle. The local king didn’t need it anymore, since he was a mindless slave shuffling toward the next city. “Beginning at midnight tonight, I want a youth in his or her prime sacrificed to Me on the hour, every hour of the day and night until I say otherwise. If you can find any elves or dwarves in their prime, even better.”

            High Priest Mogens’ eyes flashed in wicked glee. He had long wanted to perform those rites the Arisen had outlawed. As much as Dakar enjoyed the heady feel of power such rites provided, until now He was loathe to kill off His scant supply of worshippers. Unfortunately, the few conquered humans he hadn’t magically enslaved, so he’d have the needed free-willed congregations in His temples, weren’t providing the kind of power He had anticipated. Their hearts weren’t truly into the rites they performed, watering down the nourishment He received. Their prayers weren’t any better.

            “It will be as You command, Divine Master,” Mogens said, bowing to hide his smile.

            That irritated Dakar. The High Priest had to be reminded who was master.

            “You will start the blood sacrifices with Queen Annalis,” He commanded, enjoying the shock and horror of His servant. The nineteen year old queen of Treversax had been Mogens personal slave since her capture. Taking his most prized possession would remind the High Priest of his place, however vaulted it may be. “I will personally attend, to witness your skill and devotion.”

            Mogens swallowed hard, understanding his master was displeased with him.

            “It will be as You command, Divine Master,” High Priest Mogens said.

            “How many temples have you managed to cleanse?”

            The change of subject cleared Mogens dark mood. And here was a problem dear to his heart. He was, after all, a warrior born, and loved a challenge such as this.

            “Thirteen, Divine Master.”

            “Then stop,” Dakar said as He reached the High Altar. Mogens frowned. Dakar understood the High Priest had ideas on how better to deal with the traps, but He had other concerns. “Come full night, I will destroy the rest of the temples, and their traps. I cannot afford to lose any more priests. Once My power is more firmly established, then new temples will be built.”

            Dakar reached His throne and promptly sat. He wasn’t one for fanfare and elaborate ceremony. Results got His attention.

            “If there is nothing else to report, High Priest Mogens, let us plan the next phase of My campaign,” Dakar said in a booming voice for all to hear.

            But before Mogens could voice his first suggestion, a hesitant cough sounded. One of the prone priests looked up, requesting permission to speak. Mogens frowned. Dakar knew that there was something about Nizar al-Sayyid that just didn’t rub right with the High Priest.

            “You have something to add?” Dakar asked, His annoyance clear for all to hear.

            “Yes, Great One...I mean, Divine Master,” Nizar said, slowly rising to his feet. “I was detailed with clearing out the traps within the former High Priest’s apartments. I found information I believe of dire importance.”

            “And you didn’t tell me!” High Priest Mogens bellowed.

            “I looked, but couldn’t find you, Your Grace,” Nizar said somberly, looking truly regretful.

            “Of no consequences,” Dakar said, irritated His servants were embroiled in some petty human power struggle while He was bent on conquering the world. He had never had that trouble with His former priesthood comprised of the Ancient Races. “What have you found?”

            Nizar grinned, pulling out a sheet of paper. “Divine Master, I have found evidence that the Arisen Gods, and Kamain in particular, have set in motion a plan to destroy You.”

            Dakar pounced upon Nizar, startling the Tameran half out of his wits. But instead of ripping out Nizar’s throat, or heart, He took the paper away in a massive hand. The script of the modern humans was strange to Him, but being a God had allowed Him