Scenting Hallowed Blood (55 page)

In her stockinged feet, Aninka
ran across the damp sand. She glanced at the sea, and saw that it
had retreated beyond the horizon. What was happening? Fear drummed
at her courage. Hurry. Hurry. She felt both excitement and
dread.

The girl looked up at her in
terror as she approached. Aninka could only gasp out, ‘The house!
The house! Come quickly!’

‘No,’ the girl answered. ‘I
must find the shell!’

‘What shell? Don’t be stupid!
You must leave this place!’

The girl pursed her lips and
pushed her hair back behind her ears. ‘Here, it’s here...
somewhere... I must find it.’ She began to dig like a frantic
puppy. Then she uttered a startled yelp.

Aninka watched in fascinated
horror as the girl’s hands plunged deeply into the wet sand, as if
it had no more substance than air. It seemed as if the beach itself
were sucking the girl downwards. Quicksand? Aninka leapt forward
and grabbed the girl by the shoulders, ignoring the shriek of
protest. It felt as if a hundred strong hands were holding onto the
girl’s slender wrists. Aninka could not pull her free. A blue
vapour began to stream up from the sand, curling around their
struggling bodies like incense smoke.
Should I leave her
here?
Aninka thought.
Should
I save myself?
She
glimpsed the girl’s terrified face within the veil of her threshing
wet hair. No. Aninka could not simply leave her. With this
realisation, the ground abruptly released its hold on its captive
and both she and Aninka fell backwards. Aninka quickly scrambled to
her feet. The girl knelt before her on hands and knees, her body
shuddering with silent sobs. In her hands, like an icon, she held a
perfect cowry shell.

‘Now!’ Aninka cried. ‘Hurry!’
She dashed past the kneeling girl and lifted the male figure in her
arms, seeing at once that it was not Shemyaza. Was it still that
important to carry him to safety? The girl had now leapt to her
feet and was attempting to drag the young man from Aninka’s
arms.

‘No, let him go! Let him
go!’

‘Don’t be stupid!’ Aninka
gasped. ‘You’re in danger! Come with me now!’

‘I don’t know you...’ the girl
began, but Aninka interrupted her.

‘For Shem ‘s sake, look at the
sea! Look!’

The girl turned her head and
froze. The tide was returning, but in height and power. A wall of
water was gathering on the horizon, beyond the empty reaches of
sand. Its crest glittered red beneath the black sun. ‘Oh my
god!’

‘Run!’ Aninka screamed.
‘Run!’

Both women fled towards the
cliff stair, Aninka carrying the boy over her shoulder. They seemed
to possess preternatural strength in their fear, and all but flew
up the rickety stairs. At the garden wall, Aninka glanced back and
felt her heart contract in awe and horror. The wave was surging
towards the land, rearing higher into the sky with each moment.
Surely High Crag could not resist such an elemental onslaught, but
where else could they seek shelter?

‘Quickly!’ she cried and led
the way back to the house. She could see the French windows hanging
open and uttered a groan of despair. What barrier could fragile
glass provide against tons of water? Would they be safer in the
attics or the cellars?

As they drew nearer, Enniel
appeared at the window, gesturing for her to hurry. ‘Where have you
been? Get in here!’ His face was drawn and tense. Aninka virtually
threw herself against him, gabbling a string of nonsensical
words.

‘Be calm, Ninka. We must work
together.’ He pulled the girl into the house behind her.

‘The house will be destroyed!
We’ll drown!’

Enniel ignored her words and
closed the windows. Aninka was barely aware of the weight of the
boy on her shoulder. The girl stood beside her, wide-eyed in silent
terror, the cowry shell still held in both hands.

‘Come, upstairs,’ Enniel
ordered.

Aninka followed him. Her legs
felt weak. She was aware of the power and weight of the wave
gathering behind her. How could they hope to survive it?

As they moved through the tense
air of the house, Aninka saw that all her relatives, all the
ancients who hid or dreamed within the catacomb of rooms had
emerged from their sanctuaries. They thronged the corridors in
silent lines, humming softly beneath their breath.

‘Station yourselves at every
point of entry,’ Enniel said to them.

He led Aninka and her
companions to the top storey of the house, where gabled windows
looked out from the wide, empty attics. Here, the Parzupheim had
already gathered. Aninka dropped her burden on the floor, and the
girl hurried over to lift the boy’s body in her arms. Aninka ran to
one of the small windows and looked out. Her mouth filled with
saliva at what she saw; she wanted to vomit.

The sea, a citadel of crushing
water, was moving slowly, so slowly, towards the land. She tried to
estimate how far over the cliff-top it would tower, but it was
impossible to guess. It seemed the sky was blotted out by the
rearing wave. Aninka thought of drowned Lyonesse, subject of so
many childhood tales. Was Cornwall doomed to follow its sister
kingdom into the sea? She wiped her numb lips convulsively, and
then felt Enniel’s calm hand upon her shoulder.

‘Enniel, it’s hopeless. What
are we doing here? We should be driving away from this place as
fast as we can. We’d have more chance.’

‘Have faith, Ninka,’ Enniel
said softly, and kissed her hair. ‘We will create our own barrier
of protection.’

Aninka gestured weakly at the
sight beyond the window. ‘Against that? Are you serious? Oh, Great
Shem, we shouldn’t be up here. We should be in the cellars, or
would that be worse?’

‘Aninka, you must calm down,’
Enniel said sharply. ‘Allow yourself to trust me.’

Aninka uttered a sad bitter
laugh.

‘Look around you,’ Enniel
continued. ‘The strongest Grigori of all the kingdoms of Albion are
here to safeguard you. Don’t be afraid. This is just a memory of
the Great Deluge replaying in the mind of the earth.’

Aninka could not believe what
the evidence of her eyes contested. The water was real and solid,
no dream. ‘I just hope it’s quick,’ she said. Her eyes were drawn
back to the window, in morbid fascination. The sight was
incredible, beautiful and terrible.
The weight of the water,
she thought.
The weight of the water.
Her knees gave way.
Staggering, she backed into the centre of the room. The Parzupheim
had formed a circle, and Aninka went to crouch with the girl she
had found on the beach, who still held the boy in her lap.

‘I’m afraid,’ the girl
whispered.

Aninka put her hand on the
girl’s shoulder. ‘So am I.’

‘Are you Grigori?’ the girl
asked her.

Aninka nodded. ‘Yes.’

‘Do you know Shem?’

Aninka was surprised. ‘Yes. Do
you?’

‘Of course. I know him very
well.’ Her face crumpled. ‘Is he dead? Oh God, what’s
happening?’

‘Are you Lily?’ Aninka asked
her. ‘Lily Winter?’

The girl’s face was creased up
in fear. The question seemed to annoy her. ‘Yes. Yes. Oh, what does
it matter? We’ve no chance! None!’

‘Don’t worry,’ Aninka said.
‘These men here are the most powerful of Grigori. They’ll protect
us.’ She wished she could believe it herself.

The wave was at the cliff now,
towering up what looked like a hundred feet above it. From outside,
High Crag would look dwarfed beneath it, a feeble match-stick
construction that could be crushed and washed away by only a gallon
of water. The Parzupheim were chanting steadily, constructing a
cone of power around the building.

It won’t be enough,
Aninka thought.
It won’t be enough.

‘Let it happen quickly,’ Lily
Winter said suddenly. ‘I can’t bear it.’ She buried her head
against Aninka’s side. The attic was filled with a dark green
light. Slowly, Aninka turned her head and forced herself to look
out of the window. All she could see was water, water that seemed
to defy gravity, flowing upwards. It must only be feet away from
the house. She screamed, unable to help herself, for the power of
the wave was the naked face of death, inexorable. Then, she saw a
flash of white and, with an explosion of sound, the wave crashed
down upon them.

On the cliff-top at the bottom
of the Penhaligon garden, the Pelleth witnessed the Shamir explode
out of the cliff and shoot towards the Mount. Their dancing and
chanting became wild, ecstatic, but was short-lived. As soon as
Meggie saw the black sun rise, and the tide retreat, she knew what
would follow. The sea would exact a price from the land. She looked
quickly at Daniel. Could she sacrifice him now? Would the offering
of Shemyaza’s vizier be enough to satisfy the Serpent Mother, so
that she would curb the wild horses of the foam, and not throw them
against the land?

Daniel seemed to sense her
thoughts and glanced at her sharply. He was standing tense and
still, as if removed from the wild proceedings around him. ‘You
want me to be your scapegoat,’ he said.

Meggie said nothing.

‘That was not a question,’
Daniel continued. ‘Shall I leap from the cliff for you?’

‘Would you do that willingly?’
Meggie couldn’t help asking.

Daniel shrugged. ‘My purpose
for living has gone. Yes, I will do that, if you think it will do
any good.’

Meggie stepped up to him and
put her hands on his arms. She could feel the life thrumming
through his body. ‘No, it would not be right,’ she said. She
glanced over her shoulder at the horizon. ‘Daniel, you still have
purpose. Take my people to safety. I trust they will find sanctuary
with you.’

Daniel looked down into her
eyes. ‘If that’s what you want.’ He seemed to have no will of his
own.

Meggie shook him. ‘It is. It
is.’ Around them, the Pelleth continued to jump up and down,
clapping at the sky. It had yet to dawn upon them what the
withdrawal of the sea must signify. ‘In the distant past,’ Meggie
said in a low voice, ‘when the Great Flood drowned the earth,
people survived upon the mountaintops. Go to the hill fort of
Enoch’s Tower. It is not far from here, but you’ll have to hurry.
Take my sight with you, Daniel, let it guide you. I think you’ll be
safe there.’

‘Very well.’ Daniel paused.
‘Why can’t you lead them there yourself?’

Meggie sighed and shook her
head, pursing her lips together. ‘It is time,’ she said. ‘And I’m
too old to run. That’s all. Now go, quickly.’ She shouted out to
her sisters to silence them. ‘Go with the boy! Go now. The Serpent
Mother does not want your lives!’

The women all stared at her
with wide eyes, frozen in position, some with their hands still
held to the sky.

‘Go now!’ Meggie urged. She
sensed the rising power of the sea behind her. Emma realised what
was happening and began to chivvy the women towards the house.
Agatha ran to Meggie’s side. ‘I’m not leaving you, Gran!’

‘You must!’ Meggie said in a
hard voice. ‘Daniel, take her!’

Daniel picked up the child in
his arms. She wailed and fought against him, but he held on to her
tightly and ran up the garden. For a moment, he paused and looked
back. He saw Meggie and her sister standing straight at the edge of
the cliff, and behind them the sky rippled and surged.

‘Gran!’ Agatha cried.

Daniel remembered his
responsibility, and fled towards the house. As he ran, he felt as
if wings fanned out from his shoulders. He could fly now if he
wanted to. His feet skimmed the ground, and the women scurried
along behind him, their robes fluttering around them. They were
like a wild hunt flying over the land, following the Sacred King
who led them.

They skirted the house and
spilled out into the lane, spinning around, uttering eerie screams.
Daniel had no idea where he was supposed to be taking them, but let
his feet lead him, trusting that Meggie’s clear sight guided his
body. Behind him, beyond the cliff, the sky was a wall of
water.

Meggie and Betsy held hands at
the edge of the cliff. The element of the Serpent Mother was coming
to claim them. They were so tiny before her power, like two shells
waiting to be taken by the tide. Just before the wave fell over
them, Meggie saw a host of sea-faces peering out, and extended arms
that were waiting to embrace them. Then the water crashed down and
a great slice of cliff broke away beneath the impact. The Serpent
Mother claimed her sacrifice.

When Delmar saw the wave
approaching, he was filled with relief. He stood up from where he
shuddered on the shore and walked out to meet his element. He
crossed through the wall of water as if passing through a veil. For
him, the time of living on the land was over. He was never seen
again.

And as the wave crashed down
upon the land, the serpent power flared out from the chapel on St
Michael’s Mount, empowering the first site on its journey across
the landscape. Everywhere, people attuned to the mysteries were
drawn out to the ancient sites. They saw the strange sky, and the
black sun rise. It seemed as if the end of the world had come. But
then the power came, surging along the ancient corridor, filling
each shrine, holy hill, stone circle, church and cathedral with
exploding light, which rained down upon the people who had come to
bear witness.

Of all those who had gathered,
throughout the country at the old, sacred sites, some had been
drawn by an unrecognised sense, others by knowledge, a recognition
of what was happening in the land. Occult fraternities of all
creeds performed secret and traditional rituals, to herald a new
order. Christians bathed in the light of heaven that flooded their
churches, and waited for the coming of the Lamb of God. Pagans
danced at stone circles, celebrating the return of the old gods in
the wake of the revenge of Mother Earth. People of all faiths and
religions came to experience the reawakening, and through their own
beliefs, recognised the spirit of change. Every spirit, ghost,
god-form and guardian of the old places of power awoke and rose to
the serpent’s breath. Albion’s sacred heritage was alive. Past and
present came together in their quest for the future. And the
meaning inherent within the history of the ancient past touched the
hearts of all the people. Like ripples gyring out from a stone cast
into a pool, the whole of the land became brilliant with the sacred
radiance that flamed in the wake of the serpent’s journey. A
shining new age had dawned at last, and through the hallowed blood
of the serpent, humanity’s soul would be nourished, its spirit
evolve. Britain, the land of the setting sun, the land in the west,
had
become.