The Pegassian Order

16. All For One

Rafi was sprawled out on the table and felt an immovable weight forcing his back firmly against the stony cold surface which was stained with dark reds and browns. Rafi knew the smell of blood, he knew it from the streets of Afghanistan on Eid, when lambs were taken to slaughter and blood poured through the streets.

The smell used to, and still did, make him sick to his stomach. He resisted, every cell within his body was resisting and he felt the tang of bile rising up through his chest and tinging the back of his throat. He worried he might be sick if he didn't manage to push these cloaked figures off him.

They gripped his arms with such force, he felt them crushing his muscles. It sent an intense pain through him and snapped him out of his remaining strength and left him exhausted beneath their power.

He writhed for a few more moments, before finally turning his head to one side and being sick. The chunky fluid lurched from the deepest places in his gut and burst forth, gushing over the table. It was enough to momentarily make the hooded strangers release their hold on him. Apparently, vomit was more disgusting than slaughtering people for this bunch. Rafi shifted on the slab, not wanting to lie in his own vomit while he was bleeding out, because bleeding out and being pinned down by a bunch of maniacs was bad enough.

He was vaguely aware of Elliot's objections to their treatment of him, but he could no longer see her. Instead a wall of robed figures had formed between them and he could no longer see beyond the sinister gathering which stared him down with a bizarre patience that slicked nerves through out his entire being. But he couldn't fight it any more.

As Rafi lay on the slab somewhere beneath Athens, he wondered how it was that his time on this planet would end here, in such a dark and anonymous manner. Nobody knew to look for him, nobody who loved him was alive, in fact, the only person who would care was here and that was Elliot. He tried to find comfort in knowing that at least she would have closure with his killing. She would know for certain he was killed, but he didn't buy it. Not for one second. Rafi just knew it wasn't his time and it frustrated him to no end as the cult continued to overpower him. He peered up at the giant lantern-time bucket hanging above him. The lantern was soaked in a thick, translucent goldish liquid which simmered and slinked as the large wooden contraption dangled overhead. It swayed ever so slightly, and was yet to be lit.

It would cause an impressive flame if lit, he could just imagine the deathly dark room being lit up by the giant lantern. His eyes drifted to smaller torches sanding by the table he was on, they were all burning oil too.

If he could maybe kick one of them over, cause a scuffle or a distraction at the very least, maybe then he would stand a fighting chance. He thrust his boots outward but it was no use, his boots could not reach the torches. The torches taunted him as the cult held him down. From the corner of his eye, he saw one figure in particular holding something in his hands as he approached Rafi.

Rafi turned back to the torches and kicked in their direction. A few of the cloaked strangers nodded at one another, then from nowhere a few more emerged and pinned down Rafi's legs.

He couldn't hear Elliot anymore. Why couldn't he hear Elliot? What had they done to her?

Rafi craned his head to one side in an attempt to set his eyes on Elliot, but all he saw were a dozen or so cloaked figures all standing in line and staring down at him. The hood was so large it hung over their heads and cast a shadow over their features. Rafi couldn't see, but he could just tell that they were smiling a sinister smile, like wolves moments before pouncing.

‘Elliot?’ He beckoned, but no reply came. ‘Mara!’ He called and a hooded figure stepped forward and stuffed an old stained rag into his mouth. Rafi gagged as the tangy taste drew more bile up his throat. His tongue fought to help him spit it out, but the figure shoved it back into his mouth. That was when Rafi noticed the distinctive scent of petroleum.

They were going to set his mouth on fire. For a moment, Rafi was stunned. He stopped struggling and stared at the individuals who so proudly wore their cloaks and stood tall with conviction. Few things were more terrifying than a handful of people who believed something to be true. They were all here because they believed in this ritual. They believed in maintaining the sanctity of it, and that it was important that any transgressors or intruders be dealt with in a brutal manner, not for the enjoyment of the cult itself, but more so to strike fear into the hearts of the other members. Fear: that was how these things worked, that was how they grew. Fear.

And fear was all Rafi could feel, skating through his limbs, lacing through his veins. Slithering through his mind and sending icy shudders down his spine. He couldn't begin to imagine the pain he was about to be subjected to.

A fierce wave of adrenaline took hold of him and he thrust himself to one side, knocking a few of the figures to the ground. In the scuffle, they lost their hold on the middle eastern man but within moments, fresh, stronger grips clasped his shoulders and arms and pinned him down against the table.

This figure's hood had slid off and he stared down at Rafi with hot, white hatred. His blue eyes held nothing but contempt for Rafi and his pale skin reminded Rafi of death. Rafi had never seen the man before, perhaps only in nightmares.

The figure overpowered Rafi with ease and then nodded at another figure who stepped forward out of the group and set fire to a cloth. Rafi's eyes widened as the figure approached. He writhed and struggled.

‘No!’ He cried, but his cries were muffled by the fuel soaked cloth in his own mouth. He felt dizzy from the fumes now.

The figure raised the burning cloth to his mouth. Beneath the cowl, Rafi spotted a crack of white as he grinned a razor sharp grin more to himself than to Rafi.

‘No!’ Rafi shouted again, only now the man moved the burning cloth so close to Rafi’s face that the heat tinged his skin. He winced and groaned, trying to turn his head away from the man. Another hand gripped his jaw and turned his head back to face the man, he felt like a child being fed food he hated, like a puppy at a vet's.

Only this was much worse than that. This was so much worse.

He felt the heat move past his neck and toward his shoulder. Rafi lifted his head and looked down at his torso as the figure dropped the burning cloth onto his wound. Rafi howled as the flames sizzled. He flung his torso to and fro while still in their horrid grips. The cloth fell to the ground and flame fizzled out. Rafi was breathless, frantic. His chest had a scorched patch on it and he could smell burnt fabric mingled with blood.

Rafi managed to spit out the cloth in his mouth and roared. The figures watched in a long silence then after a moment, Rafi heard sniggering. It filled him with dread. They were like children gathered around a small insect they intended to burn.

He was exotic to them, a bonus that had stumbled into their deadly ritual and caused disruption.

Rafi was unsure what he saw first, the oil spilling over the cloaked figures from overhead, the lantern swinging to one side, or the woman leaping onto the lantern to cause the spillage.

The figures looked at one another, confused. They peered up. The man with the blue eyes pointed in the direction of Cara, who swung from the lantern overhead and a few cloaked figures dispersed in pursuit of her.

Taking the opportunity, Rafi shoved a foot at the torch and it slid to one side and connected with an oil soaked robe worn by one of the men restraining him. At once the assailant released Rafi and began patting at his cloak. He stumbled into his fellow cult members and ignited them too. Rafi watched them light up like a firework display.

‘We call that karma.’ He spat at them as they howled and scrambled, struggling to put the fire out.

He kicked another figure to one side and punched the man holding him down. He then grabbed the remaining burning torches and shoved them at the cloaked men who now yelled in panic as their clothes ignited and thick smoke began flooding the room.

Rafi staggered off the marble counter and pushed past panicked cult members until he saw Elliot, who lay motionless on the ground. He put his arms beneath her hers and dragged her onto a pew.

‘Mara.’ He said, ‘Mara, wake up.’ He shook her gently as he checked her pulse. She had a swollen lump on her head, they must have knocked her out.

‘Mara, come on. Wake up.’ He urged.

‘This should help.’ Cara's voice said as she threw a bucket of cold water over Elliot and Rafi. Rafi yelled in pain as shudders rocks his body and Elliot, as if awaking from the dead, leapt upright and shivered.

‘We need to get out of here. Now.’ Cara ordered the duo. Rafi swung Elliot's arm over his shoulder and they limped after Cara. Rafi cast a glance at the doorway where Cara had emerged from and noticed a fallen cloaked figure.

‘You smell of fuel.’ Elliot grumbled, barely conscious.

‘Thanks.’ Rafi replied, still coughing from the rancid scent himself. He was struggling to keep up with Cara. He wanted to thank her. He wanted to stop her and ask her if she knew which way they were going, and if the route she was taking the quickest route out of this place. But she was too far ahead.

After a few minutes of regaining consciousness, Elliot peeled herself off Rafi's flame singed body and groggily hurried behind Cara. Rafi hung back in case anyone caught up with them or attacked them.

Also, Rafi knew he no longer had the reserves to keep up with Cara. He was nearly out of fight and soon he would have to be carried from this place and he was aware, how difficult that would be. Rafi was silently preparing to die beneath Athens. His plan was to accompany the women and help them as long as he could until his God took him back.

And from where things stood, God would come knocking sooner than Rafi hoped.

‘Rafi?’ Elliot's voice was saying. Rafi pulled himself back to reality and found Elliot waiting for him as Cara marched on.

‘Hmm?’ He managed.

‘You don't look well.’

‘I don't feel well either.’ Rafi smiled, weakly. Elliot walked up to him and plead a hand on his cheek. He leaned his face against her hand. Her hand was still cold, from the icy water Cara had thrown over them.

‘We're nearly out.’ She promised him and though he didn't believe her, he smiled and nodded. Elliot turned back and continued following Cara, who had a purposeful gait as though she knew exactly where she was headed.

Rafi noticed the way Elliot hung her head as she walked on. He realised she had accepted her hunt for Chloe had come to an end. They shouldn't have come down here so unprepared, it was a death wish. In many ways, it was suicide. But at least they were together, he thought.