The Legend of Akashaa

Reads: 364  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 0

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic

  It was in the merry month of may that the first of the rare black roses started to bud in the land of Akashaa, long before the time of the first Pharaoh, while the Sahara was still a lush, green meadow, and the northern wastes of Siberia and Alaska were linked by a thick bridge of ice. Akashaa was a coastal land of stark contrast to the peaceful green hills to the north of it, it was a shoreline of rigged sharp stones which emerged from the sea to form giant mountains whose tops were covered in perpetual ice, against the white stone broke endless waves of a powerful ocean, eating away at the solid rock little by little, contouring it into queer sculptures of unknown form and preternatural appeal, as if the sea god himself used the tall mountains as clay for the magnificent art piece he was sculpting.

It was in the merry month of may that the first of the rare black roses started to bud in the land of Akashaa, long before the time of the first Pharaoh, while the Sahara was still a lush, green meadow, and the northern wastes of Siberia and Alaska were linked by a thick bridge of ice. Akashaa was a coastal land of stark contrast to the peaceful green hills to the north of it, it was a shoreline of rigged sharp stones which emerged from the sea to form giant mountains whose tops were covered in perpetual ice, against the white stone broke endless waves of a powerful ocean, eating away at the solid rock little by little, contouring it into queer sculptures of unknown form and preternatural appeal, as if the sea god himself used the tall mountains as clay for the magnificent art piece he was sculpting.

On those searing heights, next to the shoreline stood an endless forest of evergreen trees which reached up until the uninhabitable ice-deserts on the mountain peeks. It was this unforgiving and brutal landscape which forced the people of Akashaa to live the way they did, and which provoked the imagination of many other civilization who looked upon the merciless shore of Akashaa from their trade vessels and dreamed up legends about the brutally barbaric tribes which could inhabit such a place. The legends were, however, only half true, though the people of Akashaa were barbaric savages in both their manners and physical appearance, they were no mindless tribesmen who hunted and ate the helpless merchants who got shipwrecked on their shores as the foreign legends described them, they were a civilized society, living in tunnle-like houses carved into the white mountainside and concealed by the thick forests, they were mostly hunters and fisherman, though woodworkers, smiths and other craftsmen were common site in their villages. The Akashaan people had no culture of war and aggression, since their less then inviting homeland served as their best fortification against outside aggression, although the few passages through deep ravines which lead into their land were always closely guarded by the most competent warrior in their land, armed with the sharpest spears, and covered from head to toe in thick iron armor, rare were the foreigners who were permitted access to Akashaa. Above the evergreen forests in which the common people lived, on the farthest cliffs of the Akashaan mountains, great temples were carved into the stone, higher than the highest pines, with facades ordained in crystals and obsidian, with rectangular, pillar-like formations, and strange eldritch shapes not unlike those that were carved by the sea. Their stone roofs would be forever crowned with undying ritual pyres which lit up the cliffs of the mountains, giving them an ominous glow, the foreginers who sailed past the stone shores of Akashaa whispered among themselves about the strange glow in the mist which came from the mountains, and how in those moonless nights, when the sea was still and quiet, sailors often heard chanting from the shores of Akashaa. Many scholars and mystics from all around the world made pilgrimages to Akashaa, they would often claim that they saw the land of white stones in their dreams, and how they could hear the chants performed around the ritual pyres in the howling of the wind, they would leave their homes unexpectedly to seek the land which called for them, and they would never return. For millennia, the land of Akashaa was a mystery to the outside world, a legend told to those wayfarers who wandered too for too long away from home, that if they don't settle down soon, they too will hear the call of Akashaa in the howling of the wind.

The legends lived longer than the pyres burned, and soon from all the glowing cliffs of Askashaa only one remained, it was at this time that a trade ship made its way from the port of Lakris, to the Corinthian kingdom, and as it passed by the Akashaan shore, strange things started to accrue aboard the ship.
It would take the ship three nights to sail pass the shore of Akashaa, on the first night, all the sailors aboard the ship had the same dream, they were all drowning in a sea of blood, while a black sun shun over the horizon as if it were a demon of death expecting to receive it's harvest, all the sailors could recollect vividly the experience of drowning slowly in viscous blood which stuck to their skin like glue and weight heavy in their lungs. Panicked and afraid, the sailors refused to continue their journey, and demanded from the captain that they sail away from the shore of Akashaa, to keep the peace, the merchant in charge of the cargo increased the daily pay of the sailors and their daily food rations. Though those measures proved to be in vain, since on the second night, all the meat aboard the ship mysteriously rotted, there was not a bite of salted meat left for the crew, and so the entire second day was lost on fishing out from the sea the provision they needed to continue the journey. On the third night, an unholy sight befell the sailors of the ship, as they witnessed first-hand the horrible truth spoken of in old legends, as they saw through the thick mist, above the white stones, and the green pines, on a distant cliff, a preternatural glow which ominously illuminated the mountainside, little sleep was had that night.
The next morning did not bring the sailors any relief, they were woken by a terrible storm which overtook the calm sea and transformed it into a raging demon. Huge waves threw their ship against the eldritch sculptures of white rock which adorned the shore of Akashaa, and the rock clawed away at the wood, more and more water started to rush into the ship, making it heavier and heavier as it slowly sank. Panic, and the instinct to survive forced the sailors to fight amongst themselves in order to get into the lifeboats, both the captain and the merchant in charge were stabbed to death by a mentally diluted sailor, and some of the men even took their own lives by jumping from the ship onto the sharp stone in order to save themselves from ending up shipwrecked on the accursed shores of Akashaa.
By the noon the weather calmed itself, and the roaring of the storm ceased, all that was left of the ship were broken pieces of wreckage floating lonesomely and drifting away from the white stone shore. Five sailor survived the ordeal, with minor wounds they washed up on a white beach walled off by sharp cliffs in the land of Akashaa. One by one they came to their sense as they recovered from the physical and mental trauma they've suffered, only to be gripped by an even stronger sensation of terror, when they realized where they've ended up, a discovery which made them wounder whether they were truly the lucky ones, or was the luck on the side of those who have perished in the roaring sea. Soon, the survivors made their way off of the beach, though a small footpath overgrown in vines and bushes which lead them up the white stone cliffs and into the thick pine forests that not even a single ray of light can reach. The further they ventured way from the seaside, the more the simple footpath transformed itself into a road, though old and overgrown, probably not used in centuries, the lost sailors could clearly see the perfectly road, equal--sized stones which made the wide road through the pines. The sun already well behind the white mountain, paining it blacks with shadow by the time the sailors reached first singes of civilization. Cold, hungry and terribly thirsty, the exhausted men emerged from the thick forest onto a small plateaux, next to to a mountainside of almost unnaturally vertical white stone, they felt a sense of awe as they cast their gaze upon one of the Akashan towns, carved into the solid white mountain were the faces of building whose glory and artistry could match the work of any renowned architect of the known world. The craftsmanship was such that the statues of beasts and humans carved into the mountain seemed almost alive, were they not made of white stone the sailors would expect them to move in any moment, tall pillars supported arched roofs which protruded out of the mountain, they didn't seem to serve any practical purpose except as to add detail and beauty to the buildings. The houses, though carved into the mountain seemed to be stacked one on top of the other as the door and entrances to them went up as high as the sailors could see in the dim afternoon light, spires of steps lead to each entrance, marvelously decorated by black opal floral patterns. The sense of awe was soon replaced by fear and unease as the town was uncannily silent and empty, the sailors noticed how many of the great facades were overgrown in vines, and how most of the entrances lacked any doors, soon they realized that the mournful stone city was probably abandoned long ago.

After a short discussion, the sailors decided to search the abandoned town for supplies, and maybe to shelter in it for the night. One of the men made an improvised torch out of tree resin to serve as a light source, and carefully they entered one of the buildings in the lower levels of the city, careful not to disturb any wild beasts that may have claimed the abandoned cave-like structures for themselves. The interior of the building impressed the sailors even more than the exterior facades, the walls were ordained with great pictograms and mosaics made from tiny pieces of precious stones and metals, though the furniture was broken and scattered about, and the silk and linen covers were torn in panic as if whoever lived there left in a hurry and out of fear for their own life. As they made their way deeper in the dimly illuminated cave-homes of the Akashaans, they heard an echo of a wet stepping sound on the far end of the room, as they shifted their gaze to the source of the sound, they could see two inhumanly large, glassy eyes, not unlike those of a giant toad, staring back at them from the darkness. They were struck by terror and disbelief when one of the sailors turned the torch to illuminate the shadowy figure, it was an abomination unlike anything ever told in legend, a toad-like humanoid creature, taller than the average man, with a fat slumped over body which seemed to melt perpetually with a greenish ooze which melted off the body and then reformed into it again like a sort of moving skin. It's face was like that of a large fish, with two large eyes, and an unnaturally large mouth-hole which stayed permanently opened exposing five sets of sharp fangs.

The creature squinted provoked by the torchlight, shielding it's eyes from it, it let out a terrible, bone chilling screech as it's jaw dropped almost to the half of its body, as if it's bones were elastic. The sailors, sturdy and tough men by any account, screamed in pure horror as they stumbled through the abandoned building rushing outside into the pine forest. They ran for as long as their strength allowed it, until they wee forced to pause and look behind them- nothing was there, no terrible evil in pursuit, though the feeling of being hunted never left them. A new path presented itself in front of them, they seemed to have reached a staircase carved into the mountain which let up to a high cliff on the mountainside, on which stood one of the legendary temple of Akashaa. Seeing no other way but the one before them and the one form which they came, the sailor made their way up the mountain.

Night fell by the time the sailors reached the large bronze doors of the temple, above the temple was a long extinguished fire altar, and the great doors were slit opened just enough for a single person to enter. The last thing the sailors saw before delving into the darkness of the temple were the remains of their ship floating in the sea far below them, though they could not see the beach they landed on nor the path by which they came here. One by one they entered the cyclopean temple, the temple was so large that the light form their torch couldn't even reach the nearest corners of hollow darkness. Step by step they made their way through the empty abyss, before their eyes tall bronze statues were unveiled by the light of the torch, of no less magnificats than the ones found in the town, large hallways lead in all directions from the great hall they found themselves in. The deeper they went the more obvious were the bloodstains which painted the white floor of the temples, and soon the sailors passed by dried human bones and skeletons dressed in what seemed to be priestly robes, still clenching to their spears and swords rusted from ages past, they died in battle, as if they were repelling an invasion. Little by little the sailors began to piece together the terrible truth of what happened to the old civilization of Akashaa, and the full story would soon unravel itself before them as they reach an eldritch mural which covered the entire stone wall of the far side of the temple. It was a depiction of a cataclysmic event that was a little too familiar to the sailors. The picture depicted the white cliffs of Akashaa, bathe in red sea of viscous blood, from which terrible frog-like creatures emerged onto the shore and into the villages of the Akashaan people, each man they touched rotted away, as if their touch corrupted the very flash of living things, above them priests in velvet robes lit up the great signal fires which were meant to serve as a warning to the rest of humanity of what a terrible fate befell them, and as the last cry for help. But the thing most terrible in this painting, the thing which broke the minds of the sailors, was a formless black figure which emerged from the bloody ocean, larger than the tallest mountain, it's being was inconceivable to the human mind, not even the strangest of imaginations could dream up such a terrible being as the one depicted on that wall, it's very depiction brought panic and fear to the hearts of men, as if it were the primeval source of all fear, and nightmare, and death.
As the sailors turned and ran in panic, they came face to face with a horde of those disgusting abominations, and soon their screams of pain and terror were muffled by the sound of chewing and tearing of human flesh.

 

 

...............................................

If liked story, and if you wish to check out some of my other creative writing you can do so by visiting my blog, where I post my best stories, poetry and articles about topics which interest me. Visiting my blog,and subscribing to it if you enjoy my content, would greatly help me as a writer, thank you in advance. My blog: https://thewolfwithakeybaord.wordpress.com


Submitted: February 24, 2019

© Copyright 2022 TheLoneWanderer13. All rights reserved.

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

Add Your Comments:


Facebook Comments

Other Content by TheLoneWanderer13