We couldn't have been more wrong, and we should have known that yet more danger and despair lurked there.
When we first entered around noon, we were given very odd looks by two of the villagers that noticed us - it's not every day a party of random whites wanders into your village I guess, especially ones that can't speak your language. But Muuzaji offered to translate, and the two villagers were much more amicable and trusting after that. All smiles and friendliness as have all the native Kenyans we'd seen thus far. From there, being led to their chief - a big, boisterous oaf of a man with a deep laugh named Otenio - was what followed. He spoke English, it turns out, and invited us into his home and village openly and without reservation. We sat and talked on finely woven textile mats long into the morning, eating small fruits and resting in the shade and comfort for once. Soon, discussion turned to our travels.
"Where is it you are traveling to, my friends?" Chief Otenio asked, smiling as he bit into a piece of mango. "You must have traveled some distance to come here..."
"We have," Clayton affirmed. "We came here from Nairobi. We're heading out to the mountains, and looking for information on a specific place. See... there's this cult we're tracking down, they killed a lot of people we know and attacked us in Nairobi, and we're trying to find their hideout so we can eradicate them once and for all. Can you tell us anything about a place known as the Mountain of the Black Wind?"
The chief's smile faltered, and his gaze became serious. "The Accursed Place? Why would you wish to go there? Only evil and death await there..."
"We know," I offered, trying to smooth things over. "But it's important we get there. We think the cult is hiding there and may not recognize us if we get the drop on them first. Please, anything you can tell us, anything you know about the place or the cult of the Bloody Tongue... we would appreciate it."
A look like vague fear crossed the man's face, but he finally seemed to cave and began to tell us of the village's woes. There had been a group of white travelers several years back that had died not far from the Mountain, and such things were not abnormal - animals shunned the area near the place, the site of the expedition's vanishing, and a certain patch of blasted and spongy land. Two elephants had recently been found dead near the village, eviscerated and oozing blackish pus from gash-wounds made by thick talons, not even devoured by scavengers. Men, women, and children in the village were vanishing in the night, never seen again. The chief's beloved daughter, Zina, had seen terrible fires on the Mountain at night, and fear in the village was growing of what these ill omens meant for them. Perhaps doom was coming to the world? The best we could do was reassure him we would get to the bottom of all this.
The chief was ecstatic we were willing to aid him, and allowed us to stay in one of the guest huts for as long as we needed. Zina and a few men from the village even visited us with a nice goat-meat stew and some fruit from the local trees for dinner, welcoming us nicely. We ate gladly as we unpacked, allowing our visitors to help with our equipment when they insisted. All seemed well, but then I noticed the look in Muuzaji's eyes, a look of paranoid suspicion. Something wasn't right, and I could tell by the way she glanced out the door of our borrowed hut when the helpers left.
"What's wrong?" I asked her, and her tone was a near whispered response.
"There is something wrong with this village," she replied, eyes glancing to look over the textile door covering. "They are too friendly, and these designs... are not familiar to me. They seem false. There is something hidden deeper here, and we would do very well to be wary of it."
"Listen, Chief, I agree we need to be cautious, but don't you think you're being just a little bit paranoid?" Francis asked, stepping forward. "I mean, you saw how scared Chief Otenio was when we brought up the cult. Maybe they've been attacked by them on more than one occasion."
"He makes a good point," added Enala. "Perhaps the Mountain was once a holy place that was recently taken over by the cult."
"Nein, I agree with Muuzaji." The doctor stroked his beard thoughtfully, steel-grey eyes flicking to the windows to watch villagers pass us by. "There is something... manufactured about this place. I can feel it. My instincts are rarely wrong..."
"Yeah, and your instincts also told you to name Nyarlathotep's hell-spawn 'Erik'," McCloud jabbed, and both Clayton and I merely looked on in confusion. Where was this story in their letters to us? Why hadn't they said anything about it before?
"I'm... not even going to ask," I said flatly. "In any case, caution is the better part of valour, paranoid or not. "Now, I don't know about you lot, but I'm interested in seeing some of the happenings that have occurred here. They might give us some inkling of what is going on."
"We're not going out in the jungle at night, Sarah," was Clayton's response, and the others quickly sided with him, leaving me high and dry. "First thing tomorrow, we'll go looking into the nearby sites. Tonight, we sleep."
We agreed this was the best course of action, and settled in for the night. It was such a peaceful, balmy night, too, more comfortable than any of our nights in the jungle. Too bad the next morning brought us nothing but bad news. While we had been sleeping, apparently Zina had gone missing while gathering food for the village with other women, and the chief as well as his people were beside themselves with worry. Fear she had been taken to the Mountain seemed to filter through the village, just one more thing for us to look for as we explored the areas of rumor. Sighing, we agreed to help and went on our way to explore the area outside the village proper.
We found... a bit more than we bargained for in that sense. The first hint something was wrong and that perhaps Muuzaji had the right idea all along came when we heard a thumping from behind a tree, and looked to see a lone warthog constantly attacking said tree. At first, we thought it was sharpening its tusks, but then Enala noticed the blood on its snout and the tree and reacted with horror, and we realized with dismay that it was hurting itself.
"This is an ill omen," she murmured, turning to us. "No animal harms itself so badly, or has such a maddened look in its eyes, unless evil is present. Muuzaji is right - this village has something wicked about it..."
"Or it's rabid," I offered, trying to assuage the others. "Which means it needs to be killed, the poor thing is probably suffering."
"Not rabid." Clayton shook his head, and offered me a gun to shoot the beast. "It's not acting like it's rabid, not aggressive. It's acting like it's been driven insane."
A shudder went through me as I took the gun and aimed, not relishing the bullet I put in the animal's skull. It fell with a pitiful whimpering oink, and that was that, but I couldn't shake the words Clayton had used. Insane... what could drive an animal insane? Was it the influence of the Mountain, or were Muuzaji and Enala right, and something really was wrong with the village? In any case, it didn't help us find Zina or investigate, so we moved on after burying the carcass in leaves. If it was diseased, better to keep the villagers from eating it and getting sick.
Moving on, we got our second omen - a massive patch of land further down the trail, scorched and dead, the ground black and unpleasantly spongy. There were no animals nor the sound of any, and the plants nearby grew twisted and wild like tormented things. It was a blasted heath, an oasis of death in the midst of life, unnatural and awful. Off to one side, a horrendous stench could be smelled, which Clayton went to investigate.
"The hell happened here?" asked Francis, looking the area over. "It's like a meteor hit it or something."
"Perhaps it is like that incident in Russia," the doctor suggested. "The Tunguska Event, I believe they called it? It blasted all of the trees in the area out, and left a patch of land similar to this. But this... this is abnormal. The ground there from what I heard was scorched, not spongy like this..."
"Hey guys, you know those elephants with the wounds the villagers mentioned?" We looked up to see Clayton arriving back down the path, nose wrinkled in disgust. "Well, I found them. No vultures, no scavengers. Not even a hyena or any bugs. It's like the animals won't eat them..."
I would have replied, but then we heard the scream through the trees, female and panicked. "That sounds like Zina!" said Francis in alarm as we ran towards it. Indeed, it was - in another clearing bearing the remains of what looked like a years old camp, we found her cornered by four leopards, each snarling. I had never seen a leopard at anything other than a zoo before, but Clayton looked shocked. Was such a thing abnormal for the cats? Surely, considering I always knew the animal to be rather solitary from what I had read... and now here they were in a pack together. As we entered the clearing, the beasts turned and hissed at us, beginning to stalk towards us. Zina took the opportunity to get away from the animals, holding her gathering-basket like a shield before her and yelling at us to run.
Unfortunately, we had no time. The cats attacked, launching at us, scratching and biting. We barely had time to draw weapons and fire. I was about to cast open the portal and summon Shelly from its realm when one of the leopards slashed at my thigh, ripping it open and knocking me back. The blood loss was enough it made Dr. Hildebrand gasp in shock, drop everything, and run to my aid. That just left Enala, Clayton, Muuzaji, and Francis to fend the beasts off while the doctor attended to my wounds.
"Clayton, do something!" I yelled, wincing.
"I have an idea!" he cried back, and I saw him take his dagger and raise it, as though to rend the air. I was about to warn him that the knife wasn't the right composition, that it wouldn't work, when... shockingly, it did. The blade sliced through the air, opening up a great glowing rift, and through it, a pool of endless stars and the sound of strange piping and drumming. We were aghast, none more so than Clayton, when we realized that the spell had gone wrong and this was not Shelly's domain. Then... it came.
Description is near impossible. The thing was at least the size of a small house, if not larger. It was something like a frog, something like a squid, and something like a fish, clawed talons gripping what seemed to be a pipe or flute, or perhaps that was its mouth? It blew through this tube, an eerie and monotonous trilling that made the mind ache to comprehend, long and high-pitched notes as sinister as they were beautiful. Its fifteen eyes never blinked, only stared like black dots from its oily, rubbery skull. It is with these that it looked to us, and I could sense an extreme disdain in it, as if we were... beneath it, insects to be crushed. Yet, crush us it did not, but only merely gave an annoyed look. I don't know how any of us kept our wits on seeing the thing, let alone Clayton.
"Bird-man..." Enala whispered in fear, not even daring to run. "What is that thing?"
"No idea," he replied, face as pale as a sheet, then speaking to the thing. "S-sorry, I... er... wrong number. Didn't mean to bother you. But um, we have a... situation here, if you could maybe... please?"
He motioned to the leopards, which now looked to be terrified of this creature, and the being's eyes followed. I perceived something like a frustrated, whistling sigh before the being did... something, something we felt but didn't hear. It had to have been some sound-based attack, because two of the leopards simply... ceased to be. I'm calling it that to save my sanity in describing, but the cats were gone in a puff of blood and fur, and with that the creature left back from whence it came, rift sealing itself like it had never been there. Taking advantage of the momentary shocked silence, Enala punched one of the leopards in the snout, turning it away from us, while Francis took up his pistol and shot the other between the eyes. One way or another, Zina was now safe.
"You are never going to copy things you have only seen a person do once again," Muuzaji said curtly to Clayton, and he merely nodded in response. "We are not speaking of this. That did not happen."
Quiet agreement hit us as Zina ran to us, grateful for our help. I don't know how she hadn't seen the giant monster earlier, but she was safe and when we brought her back to the village, there was much rejoicing. Song and dance, drum and food, all was prepared and enjoyed, but the sense of revelry seemed... different this time. Almost rehearsed. In the small cage strapped to my backpack, Who the chameleon hissed and turned a greyish color, coiling up in concern. Something was not right... very not right. Something about the ceremonial dance masks they wore was uncomfortable, evoking creatures not of local legend if both Muuzaji and Clayton were to be believed. Things with long red tongues and gills, things with tendrils of grass, things with teeth but no eyes... things that evoked nightmare, not tribal spirits being driven away.
I didn't want to pry, of course, it would have been terribly rude to accuse them of anything, but looking back... we should have known. We should have been more aware, especially when the Chief interrupted and said he wished to dedicate the newly dug well in our honor, that we needed to be there to witness its unveiling. My stomach clenched in knots when I heard this, and judging by the others' looks, they felt much the same. There was nothing we could do to avoid it without raising suspicion, however, so we followed the procession to the well. It was secreted behind a small hut, and covered with a large wooden pallet. Inside, the sound of liquid could be heard, but it struck me as very odd that the well was so large. Surely, it needed to be deeper than it was large, didn't it? Then I overheard Clayton's frightened murmuring as we watched the villagers start to raise the well, people pressing in on all sides of us - and he didn't sound enthused.
"No, no no no," he moaned softly, eyes feverish and beads of sweat forming on his brow. This isn't good... Francis, can you vomit on command?"
"Um, I think so?" the pilot whispered, vaguely confused.
"Good. I have a plan... listen carefully..."
I didn't hear the details, but I immediately deduced the ploy once it launched. Clayton began to play sick, and even seemed to be gagging. He's apparently is good at triggering a false gag reflex, because he was able to spew without any effort.
"Jesus, you okay, buddy?" Francis lied, patting the faking adventurer on the back. "Chief Otenio, I think he must have drunk some bad water earlier... when we were out trekking. I'm gonna take him back to the hut to rest up."
The mood of the crowd changed instantly, and the chief's face gained a stony, almost sour look to it. He hid this as quickly as placing on a mask, however, a visage of false concern. "That is quite alright, my fellows can bring him back to the hut," he said, smiling, but the others weren't falling for it. "We would like most of you present for the ceremony... at least one man and one woman of your number. It is an old tradition, necessary for the luck of the village."
"I will accompany them," Dr. Hildebrand offered. "They will need my care in case it is something serious..."
There was nothing the chief could do without losing his carefully maintained mask, so he let them leave. The rest of us, however, could do nothing but watch as the well slowly opened. The crowd wouldn't let us leave, in fact they insisted we stayed, pressing against us like a wall of flesh and blood. I became nervous, and the others began to glance about for an escape route as the well's cover was lifted, revealing...
Nothing. Absolutely nothing, much to the absolute confusion even of those opening the pit. There was soft murmuring in Swahili, confounded words turning to a vague fear and concern as the pit-openers left, pranga in hand, into the jungles to seek something out. Something that only Muuzaji could tell us the answer to.
"What are they saying, Muuzaji?" Enala asked nervously, and Muuzaji returned the confused look.
"They are saying that something has gone missing," she responded, brow furrowed in worry. "But I do not for the life of me know what on earth a Jakota is..."
We got our answer soon enough. There was a rustling in the trees, quickly growing into sobs and wails as if from dying men. At first we thought it was the pit-openers having been attacked or startled by a large animal, but then we heard the sounds of chewing and flesh tearing, followed by a sound like something the size of an elephant was coming at us, a freight train down a track, an army of tormented voices shrieking in agony. The crowd began to panic and back away, and even Chief Otenio backed away in fear at what was coming. And, when it finally arrived, smashing through the trees into the clearing, absolute horror hit us. The thing that burst towards us was little more than a rolling mound of flesh, screaming and wailing from at least fifteen human faces, all biting at the air and staring with hungry, maddened eyes.
Francis took one look at the thing, and screamed. He couldn't handle the sight of the thing, or the immensity of it, and I don't blame him for that. All of us could feel our minds slip into irrationality at the idea of such a horror existing, even after all that we had seen, but I believe that the pilot took the worst of it. He simply... crumbled into a ball and remained that way for some time, murmuring about how insignificant we all were, how pointless everything was, how we were going to our deaths upon the Mountain and there was no escape. After all, what sort of hellish thing could spawn such a creature? The crowd reacted by fleeing and screaming, some trying to contain the thing back into the pit, the chief amongst them. We do not know what happened to them, because we ran for it, taking advantage of the chaos to escape into one of the nearby huts and dragging Francis with us.
"We're going to die, we're going to fucking die, oh my god," he blubbered, tears streaking his ashen face as we hid.
"Shut up, McCloud!" Muuzaji hissed, covering his mouth... before she nearly startled when a familiar hand fell onto her shoulder.
"Muuzaji, relax! It's only me!" Clayton's voice floated out of the darkness of the hut, and both he and Dr. Hildebrand appeared from the shadows soon after. "We heard shrieking and wailing, what happened?"
"F-fleshy... thing," Francis stammered. "Big... fleshy th-thing, so many faces, screaming, screaming..."
"Oh god, they have a Chakota?" The treasure hunter's eyes grew wide in fear. "I saw one of those things back in New York! They dig tunnels out with their teeth, it's grotesque... We need to get out of here, it's proof positive what we heard is true..."
"What? What did you hear?" I asked, astonished, and he told the tale. They had been sneaking past one of the huts when they overheard a familiar voice, that of Zina's. Except... it wasn't the Zina they knew. She spoke of the Mountain, said that "preparations were nearly ready" and "the Mother will give her bounty soon." There was another voice that responded with glee, a voice heard from months ago... the unmistakable voice of Sir Aubrey Penhew, and they said they could almost hear his smirk. But that wasn't all. He called Zina by another name. He called her M'weru...
"No," I murmured, shocked. "This whole time... she was the priestess of the Bloody Tongue cult?"
"We should have let her die," Muuzaji bitterly spat, and I have to admit, the sentiment was the same. It was Omar Shakti back in Cairo all over again, yet another trick of Nyarlathotep and His vile cults... and that could only mean that the whole village of Ndovu was just as in league with, if not entirely composed of members of, the cult of the Bloody Tongue. No good kicking ourselves now, though. We had to get to the Mountain and out of the village, before they found us. We couldn't just hide forever, they'd find us eventually... and then what? We'd be dead, probably even Chakota food, a fate I barely wanted to consider to be true since they'd apparently planned to sacrifice us to it before it escaped captivity...
There was a sudden rustling then at the door's cloth covering, and we all tensed and drew our weapons in alarm, pointing them at it. The cloth brushed aside, and to our surprise, a face we recognized entered - scarred, dark-eyed, and as surprised to see us as we were to see him despite his weapon wielded.
"Badru?!" Dr. Hildebrand exclaimed in shock.
"The bastard sold us out!" Francis spat, and we advanced.
"That would be... unwise, said the cultist as he entered, lowering his weapon. "I mean you no harm, I had no knowledge you were here... why are you here? I told you to leave well enough alone! They will kill you if they find you..."
"We're aware," I said, suspicious of this man instantly. "I've heard all about you, and I'm not impressed. Give us one good reason to trust you..."
"Simple," Badru said, holding both hands up in a placating gesture. "If you do not, you stand no chance of arriving at the Mountain of the Black Wind alive. I know of routes less potentially dangerous to you, and I do not trust M'weru myself. She is arrogant and must be removed from power, she is only leading us astray from His Greatness. I will help you, if you promise to aid me in removing her."
"And why help us?" I gripped my knife all the tighter, wary. "You'll just betray us and deliver us into the jaws of your god yourself."
The cultist's voice softened. "I do not wish to. There is a saying amongst my kind - The blood of brothers is stronger than the blood of enemies. You spared my life once; I am honor bound to return such a favor. We are bonded now, so say the tenants of my god... and it is most unwise to ignore the edicts of the gods. Besides... they will be suspicious if you arrive and do not appear to belong. If I arrive with you, you stand some chance of making it into the Mountain unseen."
"Yeah, so you can capture us last minute," Clayton snarled. "You really wanna help us? Prove it. Drop all your weapons."
The cultist sighed, then relinquished all of his tools. The pranga, the throwing knives, even his cult headband. He then suddenly bit down on something in his mouth, then opened it, showing raw and bleeding wounds in his tongue.
"There, I have shed my blood in promise," he responded, swallowing. "If my tongue tell falsehoods, may it be ripped from my head. If my hands betray, may they be chopped off and fed to the Bloody Tongue Himself. I swear upon His Greatness that I will only aid you, and will not lead you astray. This is now His Will, and His Will is mine as well."
There was conviction in what he said, the fervor and truth of a true believer. We couldn't just believe it wasn't the case, not with the conviction in his eyes... Reluctantly, we agreed to let him lead us from the village. This was when Clayton showed us a certain... talent he had. He mentioned he may be able to create a distraction or otherwise make it easier to hide, and with little fanfare, murmured strange words. Words in a bizarre tongue that hurt to hear. And, without much effort at all, little tendrils of mist seemed to stream from his fingertips, soon clouding the hut and area outside, slowly overtaking the village in dense fog.
"Wait, since when could you do that?" I asked, befuddled.
"He has magic?" Badru asked, equally confused.
"Since always, and you never asked," said Clayton, heading for the door. "It's not gonna last forever, let's get moving."
And get moving we did, easily concealed by the fog. Not a single villager could find us, though we could hear them running and even perceive the wailing, slithering bulk of the Chakota as it searched for us in the fog, all to no avail. Badru proved a clever guide, far more than we gave him credit for, and led us deftly into the jungles where we managed to vanish from sight.
It's nightfall now, and one of those torrential downpours the wet season is famous for has hit. We've managed to find a small cavern system, deserted in the rocky walls of an outcropping, and we've taken refuge there. The firelight gleams as I write in these pages, and the others sleep. Badru has taken to an area of the cavern that is dark, he appears to be meditating and not sleeping. I don't know the point of this, but he's murmuring words under his breath that aren't in Swahili. A prayer to his god, perhaps? I worry... is it a blessing or curse he asks for? I don't dare bother him though... he has brought his weapons, and the last thing I need is an angry cultist after me.
The Mountain should be close at hand within one more day's walk or so. I'm not excited to see it. But at the same time... He's there. Calling to me. Whispering in my dreams in that hypnotically seductive voice dripping with honey and dark venom, murmuring devious things to me as I sleep...
Come back to me, Sarah McCain. Come back to me, for I miss you so... Embrace me, and become with me a god upon earth. Become mine... Please, Sarah. Please...
I am afraid. How much longer can I hold out against such temptations, such dark promises? I don't want power, or immortality, or any of that... but a part of me, a sick part of me, just wants Him, longing for His touch, for those beautiful lies woven with His silver tongue...
Sarah, what on earth is wrong with you; what are you even thinking? Why can't you let what happened in Cairo go? Why are you letting His tricks get to you?
Why in the hell did you ever, ever come back?
-- Sarah McCain, Fearful For My Soul (17 September, 1928)