Was it a Spirit, a Monster, or a Sorcerer?

Ah, yes. Sometimes these rural simpletons bore me. Concerning the slaughter of birds and bunnies, these are my findings: The following day we accompanied Forrest to the fortified steel cages were he had cleverly placed the stricken rabbits. They were strong cages, but the sight that presented itself was one of horror. My werewolf companion began to slather with a mix of anger, and I suppose hunger.
One of the rabbits was flayed and headless near the outer cage door. Another was headless within the cage, while another was high up on a shelf where the unfortunate late pigeons used to perch. Its liver lay next to the mangled body. None of the animals had been consumed properly, proving that it was a killing for malicious reasons alone.
“What sort of magic is this?” Forrest screamed in frustration before vomiting. “How is it that the cage door is securely locked, yet the rabbits are dead?”
I looked and saw that indeed, the cage was soundly locked, but I smelled no sorcery. Then I saw it. “Observe,” I said. “The creature crawled through the feeder and into the cage. It had to be long and quite skinny.”
“How did it get the large rabbits out of the cage?” he asked.
“Hmm…” I mused to myself. “Perhaps it broke their bones.”
Tigran roared and began to roll in the carrion. I was not in the mood to think about the subtleties of animal husbandry. “I will ask my minion to guard the animals,” I offered, pointing to Tigran.
Forrest shook his head. “That monster will eat the rest of them—I’m sure of that.”
“That is my offer. He will refrain from eating the rabbits, ducks, and chickens. I will allow him to eat one large Wal-Mart shopper before the night comes. Although it is certain to contain much of the dreaded cholesterol, he can digest it well,” I assured him.
“Well, okay, then. Just make sure it is an evil person,” he grumbled. I smiled and patted the werewolf’s red fur. It made a series of purring roars.

Psamtik's Mother--The Sorcerer Gaumata

The work done for the day, Matwa went to Psamtik, the pharaoh-to-be’s quarters. The wretch’s mother had called him. Psamtik was asleep in his mother’s arms. He slept naked and his mother looked fondly at his skinny, angular body. His shiny shaved head showed off many bumps and irregularities. He had had an erection in his sleep and she stroked it down gently. Matwa stood a while and finally cleared his throat, causing Psamtik to stir and grit his teeth, making an awful grinding sound. The woman looked up and smiled proudly as she slipped out of the bed.

“Matwa, how are the arrangements for his ascension progressing? I feel that the priesthood is not very enthusiastic about my son’s coronation, and I want to know that the army will be loyal.” She paced silently. “At least we have you, Matwa. I’m sure you can control the other priests.”
Matwa nodded, “Yes Your Grace, I will do my best. Every thing is going as planned.”

http://www.extasybooks.com/the-sorcerers-secret-5/

{WARNING} Contains scenes of extreme violence that may be offensive to some readers. Fire—dreams of Fire—visions of Fire. Where do they come from? Aryazate doesn’t know why, but he fears the power secretly growing in him. Am I a demon, or a sorcerer? Kavada, the blacksmith, seems to be the only one he can trust, but even he doesn’t know the extent of Aryazate’s secrets. What would he say if he found out that the beautiful maiden Aryazate, is really a young man forced by circumstances to conceal this truth, which day by day becomes more evident? Just when he thinks Kavada is ready to hear the truth, Aryazate’s worst nightmares become reality. The Head-Mage Monushir accuses him of sorcery and has him imprisoned. What will this trial reveal? Is the truth so horrible that Aryazate will welcome torture and death by fire—by the same fire that haunts his dreams?

The Pharaoh's Useless Brains--The Sorcerer Gaumata

The priests moved the body of the Pharaoh to the royal embalmers. They had been prepared for this momentous event for a long time. Richly decorated canopic jars stood ready to receive the royal internal organs. The heart, being the seat of intelligence, would remain in the body. A large stone sarcophagus was set up in the room. This was not to be the final resting place, but the container that would hold the body while it cured and dried before mummification. It was full of natron over one layer of pure salt.

The priests were in attendance as the embalmers prepared the royal body and they began chanting the spells that were necessary for this stage. Taking a needle-thin, sharp knife, the senior embalmer made a deft jab at the navel of the body. He cut upwards, carefully avoiding the membrane separating the internal organs and the muscle. He made three more cuts until he could expose the cavity. Then taking another knife, he carefully pierced the membrane, and without ever injuring an organ, he began to cut away each one, then handed the organ over to an assistant who stood close by, holding an almost flat reed basket. Two men were holding the basket now as he skillfully cut the intestines out and began to scoop them into a large reed cone and then transferred the shimmering mass into their waiting basket. 

When this was done, the priests could see the Pharaoh’s backbone through his collapsed abdomen. One assistant held the mouth of the Pharaoh open as the master made several expert cuts that freed the esophagus and lungs. The lungs were removed by carefully cutting through the upper part of the abdomen and pulling them through the small incision. The cavity was washed now with palm wine and pounded spices. The assistant wiped the blood often from both the body and from the master’s hands and arms. The brain was removed through the nose using a long, hooked instrument. The master embalmer removed it expertly, although it was usually a messy procedure. It was placed in the reed basket with the rags, because it was not considered to be of any value to the Pharaoh in the afterworld.

Finally, the body was lifted carefully and placed in the sarcophagus. The abdominal cavity was filled with pure bruised myrrh, cassia, and other aromatic substances and then sewed up. The mouth was also filled with the mixture of materials, but it was skillfully pushed into place so that it bore a calm expression. Natron was poured over the body now, so that it could dry out in preparation for mummification. It was late in the night when they finally finished and the exhausted men set out for their quarters.

http://www.devinedestinies.com/the-sorcerer-and-the-shaman

The Madness of King Cambyses

My plan was to make Cambyses mad, as I had his father, Cyrus the Great. It began with his obsession with Egypt, one of the Persian satrapies. 

“What do you think?” Cambyses asked Mihr, his advisor, cocking his head as he studied the map. Mihr opened his mouth, but Cambyses said, “Hmm, yes, I think so too.” He stroked his black beard contemplatively. Mihr did not move. The emperor cocked his head, as if listening and nodding his head slightly. 
Suddenly Cambyses turned and glared at him. Cambyses opened his eyes wide in a look of indescribable hatred and began to stalk towards Mihr. Cambyses began to reach for his dagger, but Mihr reached for his holy kusti string and shook it.

“Your Majesty, I... I have answered your summons!” Mihr said in a trembling voice. The emperor stopped. Mihr’s voice had ended the trance I had placed on him, hoping to have him kill that gnat of an advisor. 

His stance relaxed and he smiled at Mihr, gesturing him eagerly to follow him to the wall map of Egypt. He began to talk excitedly. 

“... my destiny! I can feel it calling to me! I want to go to Egypt to conquer that ancient land. Maybe I’ll even set up a capital there eventually. Mihr, I want to become a real pharaoh. I want you to get all the information that you can on their customs and religious practices.”

“Uh, yes, at once Your Majesty,” Mihr said. 

“First, however, I will begin to treat my magi more like the pharaoh treats his priests. They are landowners and nobles under Pharaoh. In exchange, they will think of me as god on earth.” Cambyses smiled slowly, his eyes taking on a far away look. “A god on earth,” he repeated, seeming to taste the syllables. He turned to Mihr, his eyes bright and intense with his passion. “Mihr, you must help me with this, I need that information! I need to become a god!”

Mihr bowed his head in reverence. “Oh King of Kings, I sense that there is already divinity in you.”

Cambyses’ eyes lit up in triumph. “You are a smart one, Mihr! No wonder my father had so much faith in you. Do you know that my mother was actually an Egyptian princess, the daughter of the great Pharaoh Ahmose, who rules Egypt? Pharaoh Ahmose has been ruling for forty years now. He is old, very old.”

Mihr made a sound of agreement, but the emperor had already turned and was studying the map of Egypt with rapt attention. 
When he returned the next day, I, Gaumata, smiled. I imagined what he was thinking as a guttural voice in a strange language greeted him. There was no one else in the room but Cambyses, who sat upon his throne as straight as the depictions of the pharaoh he had seen. He wore a short skirt of golden material and was holding two strange looking scepters.

The emperor just sat there, looking straight ahead and Mihr looked as though he didn’t know whether to stay or to leave. 
Finally Cambyses spoke. “Pharaoh Ahmose has just died. He came to me in a dream and told me to set out for Egypt to claim my throne.” 

Everyone had already heard about the death of the pharaoh. However, the emperor wanted people to believe that he had seen it in a vision. So Mihr made the appropriate expressions of joy and wonder.

http://www.extasybooks.com/pride-of-the-beast/

Walking Dead--The Sorcerer Gaumata

The biggest of my problems was that Rustem refused to stay dead. I do not mean like your wretchedly ignorant idea of zombies or walking dead people. I cannot believe that even having survived this long entertainment has not improved. I told you that I am staying at the domicile of a person by the name of Forrest. I stay here only on his insistence, for I need no person. If I needed what this simpleton farmer had to offer, I would possess his body. In any case, he introduced me to the flattened box he calls a TV. By some sort of witchcraft it projects the forms of small humans. We sat upon a sort of throne called a couch, and with a wand-like apparatus, he makes the forms appear. His latest interest is a play called Walking Dead People. He appears to be entertained by it, and drinks a bitter ale in a strange metal cup. I tried it, and felt insulted that he did not heat it to the correct temperature. Rather, he served it cold. I threatened to kill him for this insult, and he poured the concoction into a glass flask and placed it into a box that produced a humming noise accompanied by light. I forced him to drink some before I would sample it, for I feared he had tried to poison me.

As for the flattened forms of the Walking Dead People, it gave me an idea. However, I would not personally do this thing. I wondered if a sorcerer tried to inhabit a body, but found it to be dead. If he could not escape, this walking dead person would happen. If one could force the spirit out of a living body and make it go into a dead body, then one would not have to share the body. This has always been a problem for me, so I am thinking about how this might be best accomplished.

http://www.devinedestinies.com/kitsune-tsukis-possession/

The Demon of Death--From the Journal of the Sorcerer Gaumata

Now I wanted Rustem to see his handiwork. The way he had killed his wife and daughter, for I heard nothing coming from the bleeding hut now. They had to be dead. The boy Mihr finally got up and ran to the nearby village for help. He returned with two village women, for women were the only ones who could approach the bleeding hut. They soon left, but I saw that the boy sprawled on his behind weeping. They had to be dead.
Soon a small crowd appeared, headed by two men joined to each other by a cotton rope. Two black and brown dogs, the ones they called “four-eyed dogs” were likewise joined. They were the corpse handlers and their sacred dogs. The dogs were believed to be able to sniff out the Corpse Demon and force it to leave the body. If they did not do this, the demon would enter a living body, usually through the mouth or anus. 
I watched as they broke down the door of the hut and removed a body. It was the body of the Sorceress Anahita. They did not go back in. A chill passed through me. The girl must have escaped. It should not have concerned me, for the mother was the real danger, but somehow I was frightened. Something was surely amiss. 
Suddenly, I felt Rustem’s mind snap. He no longer needed me to harass him. The sight of his dead wife caused him to give in to his insanity fully. He approached the crowd and began to shake hands with people, commenting genially on the fine weather. He acted as if they were gathered for a party at his home. People whispered, “He is mad. Yes, he is a madman. Avoid looking at his eyes.” Others said, “Perhaps the Corpse Demon has already infected him.”
I laughed heartily, but my fun with Rustem was over for the most part. I stayed with him as he wandered to the stream and took up the stick he used for killing xrafstars. I produced a vision of crabs with red bodies. Their shells were spiked with sharp, thorn-like protrusions that exuded poison. I added scorpion-like tails that moved menacingly over their backs. At first, I produced a few. He stuck at them in a frenzy as their guts splashed onto his face and arms. More and more of them erupted from the stream until an army of clattering claws filled the air. Rustem struck madly until, stepping on a large crab that burst open producing copious slime, he slipped. His head hit a large river rock and he died. As his soul left his body, I struggled to escape.
I found myself in my own body. The pain was excruciating. My body was stiff from having been curled up in the hollow of the tree. Insects had feasted on it, and mice had chewed my exposed nails, despite the protective spells I used. I screamed long and hard as my own agony tore through me. I had also felt the sharp pain when Rustem’s head had struck the stone, and I had bitten my own tongue in the agony. Still, I had succeeded. I had not only punished my enemy, but I had also honed my skill of possession. Now I knew where I wanted to go next. I would find that Cyrus the Great and teach him that he was not so great after all.

http://www.extasybooks.com/sorcerer-in-egypt/

Enter the Demons--The Sorcerer Gaumata

Enough of this! I used this vile custom against my enemy. Rustem stared at his daughter with his mouth agape, then ordered her out to the Bleeding Hut. She began to cry and the Sorceress Anahita took pity on her and went with her to the cold and dark hut. The women had to leave the house now, because I would make sure that Rustem adhered to the custom of isolating menstruating females, no matter that he was terrified of being alone. The mother seemed determined to accompany her daughter to the bleeding hut. That was an unexpected boon, for she was the real problem. I chuckled again when I considered the thrill of sharing and enhancing Rustem’s fear. I rubbed my hands together and grinned at the image of Rustem gawking at the awful red stain, and feeling the demons crowd into the room. In his mind, the poor, big lout could hear the demons scuttling awkwardly, and his hands shook as his eyes darted around the room. This is going to be fun, I thought.

http://www.extasybooks.com/pride-of-the-beast/

Hungry Ghosts

Why do the gaki ghosts merit a meal on O-Bon, the Japanese All-Soul’s day? Because ghosts can be the cause of misfortune, or even insanity. The separate altar for the ghosts is called the “gaki-dana,” and it serves the purpose of placating ghosts who may be hanging around waiting to do mischief. Buddhist monks will often set out a meal of rice for them before they take their own meals.
Ghosts are appeased so that they will stay away from the family, whereas it is hoped that the ancestors will take part in the family affairs as givers of good advice and good luck.
Especially in the case of the recently dead, people will communicate with their spirits, often relating their day’s events. This seems so much nicer than the way we tend to forget the dead.

Sorcerer's Secret

http://www.extasybooks.com/the-sorcerers-secret-5/

{WARNING} Contains scenes of extreme violence that may be offensive to some readers. Fire—dreams of Fire—visions of Fire. Where do they come from? Aryazate doesn’t know why, but he fears the power secretly growing in him. Am I a demon, or a sorcerer? Kavada, the blacksmith, seems to be the only one he can trust, but even he doesn’t know the extent of Aryazate’s secrets. What would he say if he found out that the beautiful maiden Aryazate, is really a young man forced by circumstances to conceal this truth, which day by day becomes more evident? Just when he thinks Kavada is ready to hear the truth, Aryazate’s worst nightmares become reality. The Head-Mage Monushir accuses him of sorcery and has him imprisoned. What will this trial reveal? Is the truth so horrible that Aryazate will welcome torture and death by fire—by the same fire that haunts his dreams?

The Sorcerer Gaumata-King of Kings

http://www.extasybooks.com/sorcerer-gaumata-king-of-kings/

Amid the turbulent times of the Achaemenid Dynasty, the Sorcerer Gaumata has set his sights on the highest jewel—the throne of the King of Kings. He plans to murder King Cambyses with his sorcery. Then Gaumata plans to take advantage of a complex scheme to seize the throne. Chaos and brutality grip the land as Gaumata abuses his power, but in the back of his mind a terror of his own lurks. He has crossed powerful witches and sorcerers who are now determined to bring him to his knees. The sorceress Spenta and her powerful mage brother Mihr are caught in Gaumata’s trap, but they have allies in the two witches, Indrayani and Apuyani. They have finally discovered the key to his sorcery, and they plan to use it against him to save the kingdom.

Prince Darius, the real heir to the throne, is in danger when Gaumata understands that he has seen through his disguise. Will he be the next to face his worst nightmares in the world of horror only Gaumata, the fiendish sorcerer, can construct?

Excerpt:

The sweat was dripping from Cambyses’ forehead as the suffocating dank air of the tomb pressed down on him. It seemed that the smell was so thick in the air that he could almost see it. The cloying smell of putrefaction became stronger after the inner case covering the corpse was exposed and he felt the saliva begin to collect rapidly in his mouth. He could not retch in public, no, that would not do.

He heard the noise faintly at first, but then it became louder and louder. It was a buzzing that sounded filthy, like when one disturbs flies that have been feeding and laying eggs on excrement. The atmosphere pressed down and the sound increased even as the unbearable stench was forced into his nostrils.

Cambyses began to look about the walls of the tomb, not because he was interested, but because he needed to distract himself. He saw that the intricately painted small figures were beginning to move now. It began very slowly, but he suddenly realized that they seemed to see him too, and some of them were making obscene gestures in his direction. One little man pulled up his robe and wagged his genitals at him while women stood by laughing. Some of the servants behind the little painted oxen that were pulling plows began to point and gape at him. They now seemed to be talking, their rough, guttural language grating on his ears. Somehow he could almost understand what they were saying.

Cambyses turned away from the walls, only to find that the chanting was still droning on. He shifted slightly and felt his face color as Matwa, the high priest, glanced at him. Things were getting bad. He just had to get out of this tomb—out of the festering, nauseating atmosphere of that corpse house. The buzzing was steady and strong now. It seemed to be coming from the inside of the closed inner sarcophagus. He held his hands stiffly against himself to hide the shaking, but then his left eyelid began its tremors anew.

Now the high priest was reaching for the lid of the sarcophagus. Why? Why? Cambyses looked down slightly and saw that his knuckles were white and visibly shaking. The box was opened for the last time and the King of Kings could see the linen wrappings of the mummy, who had a brightly painted mask over its face. Its arms lay crossed over its chest and they had placed the two royal scepters in them. The linen wrappings were discolored already, although they appeared to be quite dry. He blinked, hoping that he wouldn’t see it, but he saw it just as he feared.

The buzzing sound had increased dramatically when the lid was raised and he saw it. Struggling to free itself from the wrappings that bound the body, a large creature began to emerge. It was wet, as if it had been born from the hideous, festering, rotting body. It stroked its front feet together as it looked about. Its many faceted eyes seemed to take in the scene as the almost transparent wings stretched out, slimy tendrils breaking off and making quivering puddles under them. The smell of the creature was one of festering liquid putrefaction. It was coming out of the crotch area of the dead man, just as it had been said in the words of the Holy Avesta.

Cambyses was paralyzed. The many knobby knees of the creature stretched tentatively and he could see the flat buttocks and flabby abdomen that swung slightly as it rose. It was now looking at him. When the faceted eyes settled on him, his paralysis was lifted. He took up his sword to defend himself. The creature began to buzz savagely as if it could divine his intensions. Cambyses ran at it with his sword poised to strike. Expertly he slashed at the thing, but it was as fast as lightening. It flew at his face and he smashed it with the blunt end of his sword. It rolled on the floor as if it had been hurt seriously, but then recovered and tried to attack him from behind.

Cambyses was in a frenzied fight for his life, but not one of the other people in the tomb seemed willing to come forward. Again and again the creature attacked. It seemed to be trying to burrow under his clothes—yes, as the legends said, the Demon of Death, if not contained by the sight of a dog, would try to enter the body of the nearest person by burrowing into his ****. The vile feel of it was enough to make his fight desperate, but the thought of it entering his body! He managed to strike it directly in its abhorrent face. Its feelers were bent now and a loathsome liquid dripped from the sharp teeth that were exposed.

Suddenly, the head priest Matwa leapt up to the dead Pharaoh and threw his arms around the body protectively. The creature seemed now to turn his attention to the priest, who appeared to be sobbing and frantically clutching at the frayed spot where the thing had made its way out of the mummy wrappings. It buzzed excitedly and flung itself at Matwa’s back. The man writhed in frenzied terror as the thing began to burrow and the man’s lower garment dropped to the floor as the creature tore at it. Matwa’s scream was unlike that of a man. It sounded like that of a goat whose life is being tortured out of it. Again and again the hysterical shrieks reverberated in the stone pyramid tomb. The thing deftly pulled Matwa’s tightened buttocks apart and then began to burrow nose first into the man. Matwa struggled, desperately squeezing his buttocks against the repulsive thing, but it still fought its way in. Soon only a few of the hairy, repulsive feet remained and then they also slid in, leaving a slimy trail, as the buzzing finally died away.

Cambyses panted in his terror and looked at the people who stood there gaping in horror. Matwa lay dead and the mummy was torn to shreds. Debris from the struggle littered the floor of the tomb and several canopic jars lay smashed, their fetid contents smeared where a foot had slid in the decaying matter. Matwa lay near the mummy, his torn clothing bloody. One of his legs twitched and then relaxed again. The bones under the mummy wrappings stuck out like white branches.

Cambyses was suddenly seized with rage. Why had they not tried to help him and the high priest? What kind of cowards were these Egyptians? He roared his orders now. They were to bring dogs in to watch for the creature and then clean up the mess. He ordered that they take special care of the body of Matwa, now the home of the Demon of Death. Cambyses felt sad for the noble high priest. He had been the only one who had tried to help, but he now lay dead.

What a terrible way to die. He shuddered as he looked around at the craven Egyptians who had failed to help him to fight against the Demon of Death. He was exhausted and heartsick. What was he thinking venturing into this evil place without the magi? They would never have let this terrible thing happen. They would have insisted on having dogs present. They would have known the proper spells to ward it off! Cambyses felt the tremors in his body subside somewhat. Now he would have to undergo a lengthy purification process.

Sorcerer in Egypt--New Book by KB Forrest

http://www.extasybooks.com/sorcerer-in-egypt/

Fear yourself, for your deepest fears are his most deadly weapons.

    
    Cyrus the Great, King of Kings, is dead. Like the Sorcerers Rustem and Anahita, he has been humiliated and killed by the powerful sorcerer Gaumata. The perverse sorcerer is not satisfied with his victory. He has his black heart set on the throne of the King of Kings. It doesn’t matter who he has to kill to get his wish. Mihr and Spenta, son and daughter of the sorcerers Rustem and Anahita, begin to exhibit signs of unusual power. They become the threat Gaumata must now fear.
    Spenta makes moves to protect her brother, but she also finds the love she has longed for in the adoring and passionate Emperor Cambyses, a tortured soul who worships her. Spenta faces danger, passion, and epic historical battles with competence, bravery, and cunning. The Sorcerer Gaumata’s machinations yield fear, insanity, and horror for Cambyses.
    Delving into other people’s most private fears may come at a price. Will his forays into the minds of his victims leave Gaumata unscarred?

New Book by KB Forrest

http://www.extasybooks.com/sorcerers-daughter-2/

The Sorcerer Gaumata has a score to settle with the King of Kings, Cyrus the Great, and the court Sorcerer-Mage, Rustem. He will stop at nothing until he destroys these men and their entire lineages. The problem is that his opponents also have considerable power. Gaumata, a user of black sorcery, has the ability to possess people by entering their minds. He ferrets out a person’s deepest fears and uses them to terrorize and confuse his victim. Once he has accomplished this, he can control a person. Despite his power, he has a weakness. He too, is terrified of something. The Sorcerer Gaumata fears women. After successfully eliminating Rustem and his sorceress wife, Anahita, the Sorcerer is horrified that his plan is going awry. Women may yet be his downfall.
The orphan twin children of the couple find themselves separated. The brother, Mihr, becomes Advisor to Cyrus the Great of Persia. The sister, Spenta, finds refuge with a powerful witch, Indrayani. As they grow older, they come into their parents’ magical powers. Somehow, they are again pulled into the court of the Achaemenid Empire, a world that their parents fled because of a powerful menace. It still lurks, waiting for them. Can Spenta save her brother, or will they both fall prey to madness?

Excerpt:

It was the very early morning of the next day and the queen had an army composed of the Scythians, both men and women. All of the remaining Massagetae men and women who could fight, and many outlanders who had come, having heard of the attack were arrayed. Even the Man-Eater tribe had come, hoping to make human meat jerky with the remains of the Persians that would be killed. They had heard that Persians had flesh that made the most delicious of jerked meat because of the fine wines that they drank and the exotic fruits they ate. They would have a good winter stock here.
The scouts had reported that the Persians were still unaware of their presence. Apuyani thought that that would be fitting. Silently, the army approached until they were close enough for the archers to announce their presence. The front line of Scythian archers unleashed a volley of fiery arrows and the horrible war cry was screamed from every eager throat. The Scythians were renowned for their savagery and their war cry was enough to make some of the Persians wet themselves. They stormed the encampment as the Persians scrambled to get their weapons and horses.
Paror the Round-Footed, the keeper of the Scythian horses, expertly began to lead his men in the theft of the horses. The Scythian steeds were so well trained and aggressive that the Persian horses followed them almost passively. Vardak the Stout was seen swinging his mace from side to side as heads flew off the enemy. His wife, Musa the Golden Haired, was intent on retrieving some beautiful cloth for dresses. She wielded a sword in one hand and held the reins with another, all the while carelessly chopping off the heads of the Persians. One man lay with his head cut down the middle and another ran for a moment after the very top of his head lay in the dust. Demonax the Mean’s face was set in exhilaration as he skewered five men at one time with his spear.

Spenta had never seen such a sight. At first, she was so frightened by the war cries and the carnage that she felt the gorge rise in her throat. Her stallion reared indignantly when the vomit hit his side and then he pawed the earth, impatient to join. Suddenly, Spenta felt the horse take off in an exuberant gallop. She almost dropped the sword that she held as he lurched forward. It was not that she hadn’t had plenty of practice. Indrayani and the Scythian women had taught her by having her slash small trees and then bigger ones with her sword. She had also learned by butchering sheep and goats with one tremendous blow of her sword. The sight of real men being cut open made her sick, but her war stallion was too eager to stop.
She was unexpectedly face-to-face with a fierce looking Persian, who raised his spear to throw it at her chest. In his eyes for that instance, she saw the sneer she knew was there because she was a woman. In a flash, a skeletal visage stared at her in surprise as her stallion ripped the man’s leering face off with his teeth. Another Persian struck at the brave horse, making a large cut in its chest. This finally galvanized Spenta and the fog lifted from her head. Giving a shrill war cry, she plunged into the battle. She screamed savagely and attacked another Persian, her sword a blur of deadly silver fire. As her weapon struck home yet again, her eyes took on the wild, misted look of battle fury. Those Persians who saw her and lived swore that she was the warrior Goddess, Spenta Armaiti, after whom she had been named.

The Demon of Death

As I am a historian of ancient cultures, I know the intricacies of the belief systems too. In the Sorcerer’s Secret, which was set in ancient Persia, I found it difficult to convey the ordinariness of the belief in the Demon of Death. People believed that when a person died, a demon immediately possessed the body. The demon was stronger in relation to how good the person had been in life. In other words, the more virtuous a person, the stronger the demon. Why? The Avesta, the Zoroastrian scripture explains that the demons can’t attack a good person while he or she is alive. They want a person’s soul, but at the time of death, a good person is taken to Heaven. When the demons eagerly enter the body, they find it empty, and like an enemy army that lays siege to a city and then finds that the king has escaped, they rage about in anger. When the demons enter the body of a bad person, they find the soul, the “king,” and they are satisfied.

Dead bodies were thought to be teeming with evil spirits. The Demon of Death was so powerful that it could enter the body of a living person who approached or touched a dead body. The only way to stop it was by the use of specially trained dogs. Dogs had the power to dispel the demon by their vision. This was called “sag-did,” being seen by a dog. Persians believed that dogs had an extra set of eyes by which they could see demons and cast them out. I will write more about dogs later.

The body thus teeming with evil, could not be buried into the earth, or burned by fire, as these were holy elements. Instead, they were placed on the “Towers of Silence,” or daxmas, elevated platforms where hundreds of vultures waited to devour the flesh of the dead. This could be accomplished in a matter of minutes, depending on the number of birds. Being accustomed to feedings of human flesh, these birds waited expectantly. I have actually seen this sight and believe me, it was quite like I described it in my book. Again, truth can be stranger than fiction.