The Sinners of Erspia

Father Gromund's tonsured acolyte crept forward into the sunlight. Whereas before his young face had been soft, doe-eyed, almost effeminate, now it was grim and determined. He quickened his pace, strode to Histrina and grabbed her roughly by the arm. “Come."

Dragging her the length of the nave, he thrust her at the priest and disappeared once more into the darkness.

Then Histrina's bewilderment began in earnest. Before she knew what was happening Father Gromund had picked her up and had lain her back on the altar. Expertly he fastened thongs to her wrists and ankles. These were fixed to the altar in some way. She was helpless, lying face up, arms and legs drawn down to the floor.

“Father! What are you doing?"

“What I have always wanted to do, my child.” Father Gromund's voice was unctuous and gloating. “Oh, to have been entrusted with the morals of so many sweet young things, to have heard every intimate confession, to have known every dirty thought—and finally!"

He ripped open her lower garments and worked his fingers enthusiastically in her sexual cleft.

“You are a priest of Ormazd!” she protested hysterically.

“Ormazd has deserted this world, child. Ahriman triumphs, and I am his priest now. It is so much more fun, after all! I have enjoyed your mother, and your sister, and now, sweetest of all, there is you, dear desirable Histrina. Do you wish to see your sister? Look over there. See what is in store for you."

Histrina turned her head to follow his pointing finger. There, lying in shadow before the pews, was the naked body of her sister Questra. It bore countless ugly wounds and gashes. Questra had been beheaded, the head laid carefully beside the severed neck. Even in death her faced grimaced with indescribable suffering.

And nearby, on a low table, were the instruments which had been used on her. Knives, gimlets, a large axe. All were encrusted with blood.

In sheer grief, Histrina shrieked. The priest leaned over her, bringing his face close to hers. His eyes were shining. “I do not expect you to understand, my dear,” he said, looking into her horrified, staring eyes. “It takes one of education, such as I. You see, in obedience to Ormazd we had to repress so much.

Everything had to be dammed up. Now the dam has burst, releasing a madness of lechery and torture."

With the last words he drew himself erect, lifting his face and raising his hands in the air, his voice wavering on the edge of sanity like a bird attempting to soar beyond the atmosphere. Then he regarded her again.

"Let it begin!"

He pulled up his robe. His penis was a ramrod in his hand. Guiding it to her vagina, he thrust it home.

Then he was bucking against her, lips drawn back, grunting and growling.

And Histrina sobbed and sobbed.

Standing on the platform atop the steps of the station, Laedo soon lost sight of Histrina among the ruined cottages. He sighed with frustration. A fair number of armed men roamed the village.

He set off after her, but had not reached the first row of houses when a party of nearly a dozen warriors emerged to charge at him, waving swords and shouting incoherently. One hurled a spear which narrowly missed him. He drew his gun and got off a couple of shots, aiming at his attackers’ legs and bringing one of them down.

He could probably have killed all dozen if he chose—but could he kill all of Hoggora's men in the village?

And what would be happening to Histrina meanwhile? He retreated back to the station and pulled the steps up after him.

There was another, different weapon. A weapon of pure goodness.

Seated before the console in the control room, he lifted the lid of the sturdy box bolted to the board.

Within was the lever with which he had switched off the Ormazdian beam.

Laedo seized the lever in his right hand, and pushed. The lever clunked to ON.

He energised the engine with a trickle of power. The station rose a hundred feet in the air. Nudging the directional knobs, he pointed the projector tube at the ground. Then he steered it to hover over the village.

Nothing on the console told him whether the beam was actually working. The projector could have been damaged when the station made its crash landing on Erspia-2. But assuming that it was, then Courhart was now receiving, at full intensity, a beam strength initially designed to spread out and cover the entire planetoid.

Offhand, he was unable to calculate what the spread would be at only a hundred feet. To make sure he criss-crossed the village, hoping to invade all the dwellings below with concentrated waves of pure goodness.

Arrows and slingshot stones rattled against the underside of the station. Laedo bit his lip. Perhaps the beam was defunct after all. He considered setting the station down on the village and crushing what was left of the buildings here and there, cowing the occupiers by sheer bulk and force.