Circle of Nine: Circle of Nine Trilogy 1 (28 page)

‘You will never have my child,’ I said softly. I had to fight down urges to throw myself across the room, fly through the air, to hit them, strangle them with my bare hands, and watch them die.

Impatiently, Ishran stopped my flow of words. ‘Sister or not, I’ve heard enough of your ranting!’ Me held out his hand and showed me some pomegranate seeds.

‘Come, Emma,’ he said, and I failed to notice the Glamour that he ejected from glands within the tips of his wings, turning his manner into one of pure seduction. ‘Come, taste the gift that Ishran has for you. Walk toward me, come to the Ghormho.’

I stared at the seeds, waves of doubt and confusion sweeping over me. A force had spoken through me, giving me power, eloquence, strength. But now I could sense the same force slipping away, leaving only the terrified, pathetic human being that I always was. I couldn’t believe how I had dared to speak to this dark being and why he hadn’t just crushed me like an ant on the spot. He seemed so suddenly attractive, so kind, and the seeds begged me to reach out and claim them. The seeds promised that all the millions of questions I had within me would be answered. I held out my hands to take the seeds and I felt the great angel begin to draw energy from me. I could feel energy rapidly being sucked from my very essence, it was like I had begun to literally deflate. I knew if he continued to draw on me I would die. Yet all I could focus on was the pomegranate seeds.

I became aware that Rosedark was singing something, a strange, terrible and beautiful melody about the moment on the Blue Planet when the first flower opened. My heart opened with the beauty of the song. The seeds began to lose their seductive appeal as I strained to listen to the angelic sound Rosedark was producing. As the song filled the study it permeated the heavy Glamour that Ishran and Sati had carefully placed around the castle and themselves. The Glamour began to crack slightly. I became aware of black parasites swarming over the two of them, gorging on the Dark Angels like leeches. The parasites began to shape-shift and in front of my eyes I saw the energy that fed murderers, rapists, racists, witch-hunters, Nazis, massacres, genocide. A conglomeration of all the evil that fed the Azephim and in turn was fed by them. The parasites and the host.

The castle began to drip black blood and pus as a cry of pain echoed from the depths of its foundations. Tiny black shadows danced upon the bricks and the foul, fetid smell that pulsated thickly through the walls was indescribable. It was the smell of pure hell. Among their evil shadows, their black hosts, their world of dark illusion, Ishran and Sati sat like two enormous foul scorpions entwined around each other. Gone were the beautiful dark beings I had admired upon my first sight of them.

‘Come!’ the Ishran-Sati thing demanded. Huge black claws were sliced through the air in front of me. ‘Come to me!’

I was aware that Khartyn was frantically inscribing protective pentacles into the air while Rosedark hid her eyes in terror at the demon that had manifested in front of us. A number of Azephim were now congregating in the study. Now that the carefully placed Glamour was fading, the extensive library was beginning to melt. Books were evaporating on the shelves. Only certain leather-bound volumes remained, which I intuitively knew to be Azephim lore, bound with Faery, Eronthite and Bluite skin.

‘Come!’ the demon beseeched once more. Then the face of the demon altered, for the first time revealing fear. The Azephim began retreating slowly, hissing and snarling. Terrified, I risked looking behind me. What could be horrifying enough that it caused fear to strike the Azephim? In disbelief I saw that it was a cat! A small black cat. It padded silently into the centre of the room with its tail raised. The Azephim continued to retreat from the feline. Even Ishran and Sati appeared cowed. I took a step toward the cat and Khartyn hastily stopped me.

‘Keep back!’ she exclaimed. ‘It is the Goddess in one of her forms.’

Then a great lightning ray appeared to strike the room. Ishran leapt to his feet, a low growl erupting from him as Artemis and her nymphs exploded into the room in a brilliant flash of red. The angels stood in front of Ishran in a bid to protect their master. Artemis approached them with a bloodcurdling war cry. Transfixed by the unexpected appearance of Artemis and the battle about to be enacted before us, I failed to notice Sati sneaking behind me. Her arms gripped me with surprising strength and the vapour of her skin sedated me quickly.

Roses, sweet and scented. Night falling, warm and secure. The sound of a child laughing, and for a second I saw the face of the demon child Rachel.
All that is darkness is mine.
Drowsy, and barely aware what was happening, I was dragged through an endless darkness, a sacrifice to a night where there was no dawn and black stars inhabited a sky as black as Sati’s hair. As I swung between worlds feeling sick and dazed, I heard Sati laugh.

‘Did you like our little Artemis’ performance, sister?’

‘What?’ I murmured groggily.

‘I know about your bonds with the forest swine. So I designed a little shadow play for your amusement. A shame, though, you probably won’t be able to catch the ending!’

Too nauseous and shocked to move, I groaned when I felt Sati’s hand slide up my thigh and roughly unfasten the silver garter of Artemis.

‘You won’t be needing this where you’re going!’ she hissed.

Then I was pushed savagely into the black night, into the mouth of the Great Mother where the air was stagnant with loss and grief. Birthing myself, swallowing myself in the dark crimson pain of death.

*

Giving thanks for the blessing that the earth had received her sacrifice, Sati knelt to the soil and hissed into its belly. ‘A new toy on its way, Persephone!’

She smiled and howled triumphantly to the moon. With Emma imprisoned underground, Ishran and Sati had now ensured a barren spring for Faia. Once the reclaimer springs from her foul belly, Sati promised herself, I shall take the pleasure of killing the Crossa. Then with the child’s help Ishran and Sati would have the means to recharge the Eom. Her hand stole to the hunting knife that she carried around her waist. But first, she decided, I will steal the blood of the Crone and the maid. She raised her knife in homage to the moon, consecrating the blade, preparing for the hunt.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

G
wyndion and Samma drifted over oceans, over worlds and through billions of stars. Encased inside the pyramid they were above their physical bodies, needing no sustenance. Samma eventually tired of attempting to lick her master into wakefulness and fell into an exhausted sleep as the great pyramid drifted. The pair cradled together and dreamt uneasy dreams, where bottomless pits of snakes undulated, calling to them to join them. Thousands upon thousands of hot, twisting, restless snakes . . .

The pyramid appeared to drift for an eternity, or for a second. In some worlds, centuries passed. Kingdoms fell. But Gwyndion and Samma were oblivious. Frozen to time, sedated to pain. At times, Gwyndion would sense the proximity of the Eom, mocking him, sending out rays that would kill him if they could penetrate the borders of the pyramid. At other times he would cry through his sleep when he saw the black, twisted corpses of his tribe.

In the middle of the void where they now floated, Samma was abruptly awoken when the pyramid landed heavily on soil. Surrounding them was a luxuriant rainforest, similar to the vegetation of Zeglanada. The meerwog watched fearfully through her brilliant blue eyes as the security of the pyramid dissolved. Now she could smell the air, totally different to the island they had left. Then Samma recoiled in fright as a tribe of Faeries surrounded them. They were obviously a hunting army; many of them carried spears made of bones and there were no females among them. Samma growled, attempting to ward them off in an effort to protect her master. Before she could attack she found herself surrounded by the Faery army and subdued by ropes of ivy. Unable to bark when her muzzle was quickly bound, the jeering Faery folk lost no chance to taunt and prod the terrified meerwog with their sharp hunting spears. Excitedly, the army of Faeries began to swarm over the still-unconscious body of the Webx looking for treasure. Samma howled as more of the Faery folks’ spears pierced her soft hide and she began to bleed.

Back on the island of Zeglanada the Snake Crone was working with the soil, coaxing the molecules to revert to their original state. She heard the howl of the meerwog and she paused and concentrated. Her brown, weathered, scaly hands did not pause in their examination of the soil as she focused her mind on the shootling’s whereabouts. Then she smiled briefly, her nut-brown eyes mischievous with amusement. He had arrived.

PART THREE
WANING MOON

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

I am the night of silence,
My touch puts fire in your hair,
I hold soil and stone between my toes;
I am the power of sky and ground.
My hands hold all strength;
In my eyes all is silence.

— From ‘Persephone’, a Faian folk song

T
he darkness was overwhelming. I could not see my hand in front of my face. There were no sounds but I was aware I was being watched. I glanced about fearfully, wildly. An overwhelming sense of claustrophobia swept over me. I was aware I was in some sort of underground cavern, but the darkness was so immense, so total, that my already taut senses threatened to drag me into insanity. The suffocating darkness was familiar, like a thousand burials I had endured.

I have been buried in many such darknesses
, I thought hysterically. Then I flowered as I rose to light, died and re-entered the darkness. A scream rose inside me as I began to realise I had indeed been buried alive.

‘Your eyes adjust after a time, so be calm.’

The voice came from out of the darkness, startling me. Youthful and sweet, it could almost have passed for a child’s voice if not for the nuance of shadow that it contained. I attempted vainly to move, to defend myself against the owner of the voice.

‘You’re the Crossa, aren’t you? The one the Dark Lords fear?’

There was a hint of amusement in the voice. I concentrated frantically on trying to relax my breathing. I thought I was about to have a panic attack when I realised all the alien, wriggling things that could be in the soil.
For I have been eaten and consumed many times by them. Full fathom five my father lies.
Dark panic coursed through me. The archetypal fear of death rose in sharp needle points in my flesh, stabbing at me with all the half-remembered burials, the bodies I had inhabited and the slugs, worms and beetles that were always there to reduce the flesh that once held men’s dreams to an invertebrate’s lunch.

‘It’s always like that when you first come under. I suppose you do die in a way. But the Mother’s cleansers won’t eat you if you move yourself a little every now and again.’

The voice was soothing, calming, encouraging. I felt ridiculously ashamed of my panic.

‘They are not normally alive when they bring them to me. I’ve been longing for a living friend for so long. The dead are none too stimulating to play with.’

I stared into the blackness, attempting to follow the owner of the voice.

‘It’s a great gift for me that you’ve arrived, Emma. I now know that the Dreamers have sent me a sign to remain where I am. I can remain in the underground much lighter of heart with a friend to keep me company.’

Failing desperately to see into the dark, I closed my eyes to shut out the horror.

‘Persephone,’ I managed to stammer through a jaw almost locked in terror, ‘Persephone, you must listen to me! You must rise! You can’t remain down here! It’s chaos in Faia! The seasons are out of control! The Faiaites need you to rise!’

There was silence in the darkness, then the same sweet voice continued.

‘I have to go, Emma. Hades is calling me. But I’ll come back to play with you. I’ll bring you some food. Please try and stay calm.’

‘Don’t go, Persephone! God! Don’t leave me in the dark!’

‘I promise I’ll be back,’ the voice repeated. There was a sound of footsteps leading away. A door opened and shut and then all was silence. Darkness. Death. Space. Black peace, an endless ebony dreaming night.

*

Back in the overground, Khartyn and Rosedark faced Ishran and Sati defiantly. The illusory Artemis and nymphs laughed scornfully at Khartyn as they transmuted into their Azephim form.

‘If you don’t immediately return Emma,’ Khartyn told Ishran, ‘there’ll be repercussions on all of us.’

Khartyn presented a confidence that she did not feel. She was still shaken by the swift appearance and disappearance of the Artemis illusion and Emma’s abduction. ‘You know as well as I do that Emma’s child is regarded as holy by the Goddess. If the child is harmed in any way due to your intervention, the Goddess’s wrath will be directed at you, Ishran!’

Ishran held up his hand to inspect his long, black polished fingernails.

‘Your scrawny, wrinkled throat bores me, Khartyn. All this talk of the Goddess. Goddess indeed! Squawk, squawk, squawk! Like an antique whingeing hen! How dare you mention your goddess in Azephim territory? Don’t you have any fucking decency? Any respect for the holy words of others? Oh, haven’t you heard, Old Mother? The old useless gods are falling in Eronth. A new religion is forming. The phoenix from the ashes of the Goddess. A religion of the times. A religion free from your obsolete nature rituals, a creed for the new millennium. A religion based on personal power, strength, abundance. A spirituality based on the Dark Father, not the light! That’s what the worlds are crying out for, Crone!’

‘With you at the helm, I suppose?’ Khartyn’s voice dripped sarcasm. ‘Worship of the Father hasn’t worked in other worlds, Ishran. It’s not new, and it’s not the way of the future. Surely you cross into other worlds enough to know that! The Bluites and others are abandoning their churches and temples where the Goddess is not represented. You’re a fool if you think otherwise. And you’re a fool to think you have the power to head a new religion! Your mother Seleza had power and strength; she was an Azephim to be proud of. But all you ever do is loll about your stinking castle with your trollop Bindisore and push brainless Solumbi around! You’re nothing but an overgrown vampire bat!’

Ishran narrowed his eyes. ‘Kill her.’

The guard angels sprang forward, fangs bared and claws outstretched. Khartyn faced them defiantly. Her ancient eyes blazed with fury.

‘No, wait!’ Sati held up a chalk-white hand. ‘Kill the Crone and you destroy the old witch’s knowledge and secrets. Better to lock her in the holding cages where I can keep her as my pet. I can torture her to reveal her mysteries. Her apprentice can be kept in a cage, too, so they can each enjoy the spectacle of the other’s torture.’

Ishran studied the golden-haired beauty of Rosedark.

‘Yes,’ he agreed at length, ‘the maid might provide some form of pleasure for me and my men, although Faiaite whores are not normally to Azephim taste. But she will suffice. As for the Crone, I cannot wait to wrap my wings around her and give the kiss of sweet life. Take them to the cages!’

Khartyn began praying to the Dreamers as the Azephim guards seized the two women and dragged them roughly from the room.

Dear Mother
, she prayed frantically,
if blood needs to be spilt, let it be mine and spare the maid. May Artemis protect us!

Bitterly she cursed herself for being foolish enough to bring Rosedark and Emma to Ishran. Although a gifted apprentice, Rosedark would never withstand being raped repeatedly by the angels. Emma might be the most powerful Crossa that Eronth had ever seen, and her lineage may be of the Webx Elder race, but Khartyn knew it would be difficult for her to remain sane in the underground for long. The underground either claimed minds or lives, and nearly always both.

As Khartyn and Rosedark were pushed into a large silver cage in the Azephim dungeons, Khartyn was struck by the mute terror on the face of her apprentice. The cage was lined with the bones of the previous occupants, and the vibrations of their terror lingered still. For the first time, she seriously considered teaching her apprentice how to release her sparrow voluntarily so the two of them could destroy their bodies before the Azephim did . . .

The Goddess might forgive this breach of sacred lore. But there was still Emma to consider. Khartyn had not yet assessed the extent of Emma’s power. She might very well have retained her Webx sense memory and be able to rise from the underground — as far-fetched as this seemed. The Crone reflected with a painful spasm of her heart that if the Azephim managed to get their hands on Emma’s baby, Eronth would be lost to the angels. Forcing herself to focus, Khartyn ignored Rosedark’s sobs and began to examine their surroundings.
May the darkness give light and be merciful! she thought, fighting the soft tongue of panic within her.
The bars of the cage were far too closely knit together, making it impossible for them to transmute their bodies into another life-force to slip through them. And that was assuming her panicked apprentice could even remember the all-too-brief lessons she had received in that particular art.

Torches of flames illuminated the dungeon’s walls, which were decorated with the skeletons of former Crones like an obscene lace border. A myriad of large dome-shaped jars was stacked neatly against the mossy stones of the dungeon wall. Recognisable human and Faiaite body parts floated inside them. Various smaller jars contained caged owls, some with two heads, and Khartyn felt cold fury at the cruel experimentation and mutilation that the angels were clearly involved in. In the far corner of the room a strange being whimpered in a secured wooden cage. It had the body of a human child and the head of a ilkama. But even more nauseating to the Crone were several large-sized webs that stood like trophies against the far wall.

So, the rumours are true! They continue their drinking practice!
The Crone was disgusted and enraged. She began to go deep inside herself, seeking an answer.

*

The door that opened to darkness opened again and the night breathed footsteps.

‘Emma? Are you hungry? I’ve brought you some food.’

I craned my head restlessly, attempting to see.

‘Your eyes have not adjusted yet? Don’t fret, they will.’

The voice now stood within arm’s reach of me. A faint smell of sandalwood, orange and cedarwood wafted through the air.

‘It’s grape juice, some bread and cheese.’ The voice continued. An object was pushed in front of me. ‘Please eat, Emma! You have to keep your strength up. Your baby needs food.’

Fumbling, I located the tray and the juice, which was in a large stone pitcher. The cool grape juice was delicious and soothing to my aching, dirt-lined throat. The rolls and cheeses that I attempted to eat had a lifeless quality to them, although I forced myself to swallow a few mouthfuls of the food. For the baby, I told myself dully.

‘Good!’ Persephone sounded pleased. ‘The live ones don’t normally eat. Sati was right, you are the best friend I could have in the underground!’

I stared until my eyes ached into the darkness wishing I could see the goddess.

‘Persephone, don’t you realise what a black soul Sati has?’ I began. ‘She is trying to destroy Faia and using you as a means of doing so! The longer you remain in the underground the worse the famine in Faia becomes. The people of Faia need their crops to rise!’

The feet moved quickly to the door. ‘I’m sorry, Emma. If you’re going to keep talking about me rising I have to leave. I don’t want to punish you, but I will anyway. I’ll leave you longer on your own this time!’

‘Persephone, wait!’ I shouted after the voice, but the sound of a door closing was my only response. I swore and sat in the darkness on the cold soil with my head bowed.

As I stared into the bowels of the earth a realisation came to me.
Khartyn and Rosedark are in great danger!
I saw them, enclosed in a silver cage, Hecate standing near, watching them through her dark veils. I had to reach them somehow! Closing my eyes, I summoned the will of every fibre of my being. I visualised my Stag Man, and I began to call to him.