Arnulf the Destroyer by Robert Cely Page B

out what had happened.  He saw his mother, robed in black, weeping on the floor of Numa Din.  His father stooped over her, his eyes also red from weeping.
    Realization broke painfully onto Yodis.  It all made sense now.  True brothers were sacred.  Sacrificing one would more likely please Asher.  And of course Oron couldn’t allow Yodis to participate.  It explained Oron’s distance, his reticence to even look at his acolyte.
    Little Elyan’s cries pierced the night and drove a dagger into Yodis’ soul.  The toddler twisted in his bonds and made eye contact with his true brother.  His cry increased with recognition, his screams pleading to Yodis for help.
    Yodis took an instinctive step forward and stopped short.  A ring of hunters stood between the crowd and the awful sacrifice about to take place.  Yodis’ panic increased until it made his head spin.  He was helpless.  He could do nothing against a ring of hunters.  His power was not in fighting, but in the magic of the gods.
    Yodis looked frantically along the semi-circular wall of the sacred place, scanning the idols perched there.  Perhaps there was a god to help, he thought.  Was there no one to pray to?  None would hear him except…
    The Faceless One.
    Yodis hung his head, defeated.  The only god likely to hear him was the one he had disobeyed. 
    Looking up Yodis locked eyes again with his true brother.  Pity and sadness surged in him as Elyan’s tear-streaked and fearful eyes pled with him.  His heart swelled and ached until he felt it would burst. 
    The light of the fire began to fade.  Looking up into the young face that loved him, that trusted him and looked up to him,  an innocent child about be cast into the flames, Yodis lost all sense of fear.  Only one thing mattered.
    In that moment, unknown to Yodis, he became possessor of a magic more powerful than any a shaman had ever embraced.  He turned and walked back through the crowd with purpose.  He only stopped for a moment to pause beneath the statue of the Faceless One.  He kissed his hand and covered his face in reverence.  The time for action had come.
    As the voice of the shaman reached a fevered pitch Yodis knew he had little time.  He backed out of the gathered crowd and made his way silently behind the wall of Numa Din.  Digging his fingers into the minuscule crevices of stone he heaved himself up and quickly climbed.
    From atop the wall Yodis couldn’t help but realize how small Numa Din looked.  No one had seen him but he could survey them all – his mother and father huddled together in grief, the crowd of villagers looking on fearfully, Oron lost in his manic chants, spittle flying from his mouth, approaching the altar where Yodis’ true brother lay.
    He would have to hurry.  Asher would be first.  Once that idol was destroyed the sacrifice couldn’t continue.
    Yodis positioned himself behind the idol of Asher and tried to force himself to lay hands on it.  Doubt froze him up mixed with fear.  Was it even possible to destroy the idol?  This was the essence of the god on earth. 
    Yodis forced the doubt out of his mind.  He swallowed hard and pushed with all his might. 
    Nothing happened.
    Panic rose up again.  Maybe he was too late.  How dear would be the punishment for his blasphemy?
    He looked across at the idol of the Faceless One and breathed a prayer to that unknown god.  An unexpected burst of power rose within him.  He laid hands again on the idol of Asher and heaved.  It slid easily over the top of the wall and disappeared over the edge.
    The sound was like a clap of thunder shaking the sacred place.  Every eye jerked to the pile of broken marble, the fire god shattered into hundreds of pieces.  Confusion crossed every face.  Oron had frozen, reaching down for the toddler, shock and disorientation written clearly across his features.
    The heads of the People looked up to where the fire god had perched just moments ago, but Yodis had