Bride of the Stone: Circle of Nine Trilogy 2

by Josephine Pennicott

  Fenn sat, her eyes fixed on her plate of steamed rice and fresh garden vegetables, her hands frozen with fear. She could feel the dark eyes of the visiting angels upon her, and she worried she would die of fright before the meal was over. Growing up in the Wastelands, Fenn was well used to grotesque sights. But at least they were familiar terrors. There were many times when Ishran and Sati neglected to use Glamour, and although at first it had horrified her, she had gradually grown used to their appearance. The Solumbi and Watcher Angels were also nightmare visions, shocking to outsiders, but Fenn knew their different personalities, and to her, the Solumbi were just big, bloodthirsty teddy bears.

  But grim angels from the Web-Kondoell were an entirely different matter. Pure, malignant power surrounded them. Both were tall, almost as tall as the giants Sati said inhabited parts of Eronth. Their teeth were incisor-sharp and polished white, their skin was as white as the rosebuds that covered the table. They were beautiful, but it was an abnormal teratoid beauty. Their faces appeared to take on aspects of whoever sat near them. Tiny bug-like beings appeared to crawl over their skin at times. Their eyes were almost impossible to gaze upon; there was no depth; they were vapid, inorganic.

  After dinner Seleza casually removed her head, placing it on the table where her dinner plate had sat. Fenn could only stare open-mouthed. Sati and Ishran didn’t react to Seleza’s unconventional behaviour.

  ‘It’s time to talk, Ishran,’ the Seleza head said. The Azephim High Priestess’s sparrow exited her chest and flew around her head. ‘Sati and Fenn can be excused. We will talk in private,’ Seleza said.

  Sati opened her mouth to protest, not wanting to miss a moment of Ishran squirming, but Seleza silenced her with a look. Sighing, Sati stood up, smoothing down her purple velvet dress. ‘Come, Fenn,’ she said, holding out her hand. ‘Let us leave the family to their joyful reunion.’ Rashka snarled after her as the door closed behind them.

  There was a brief silence as Ishran pretended to be engrossed in finishing Fenn’s hardly touched meal. ‘So, how is life in the Web?’ he said finally.

  More silence, and Ishran began to feel uncomfortable. He wondered if they planned to kill him at his own dinner table. The prospect gave him courage to speak. ‘I suppose you have crossed here to plead for the Eom again,’ he said.

  Seleza smiled. ‘Not to plead, Ghormho,’ she said. ‘But to take.’

  Ishran thought frantically. Even if he had time to alert the Watcher Angels, they were still Seleza’s loyal subjects. If it came to a battle between the Ghormho and the Azephim High Priestess, he doubted they would align with him. Although the Azephim were now settled in the Wastelands, they remained subjects of the Web-Kondoell. He also didn’t like the way that Rashka was eyeing him, snarling softly. His sibling had been fantasising about killing him for a long time, and he knew he had only to make one false move for her teeth to fasten on his throat.

  ‘You have been to the Web,’ Seleza said. ‘You have seen our cursed streets, where angel after angel has fallen. You have heard the note of the bird who sings for the lost and the damned. Make no mistake, the candle of life is flickering in Kondoell, Ghormho, and I am not going to allow it to burn out. Last time we met, I pleaded with you, I appealed to your loyalty to your true world, to your Hosthatch, but you ran from me like a thief in the night. You crossed into the world of the Bluites and no doubt killed more defenceless creatures. You are no Ghormho of mine, your blood runs thick in your veins, and I would not hesitate to bite through your miserable flesh and end your puny insignificant life. I have no doubt that I would be doing all the worlds a favour.’

  Rashka hissed in excitement. ‘Do it, Seleza! Let me carry his heart back to the Web. The angels shall rejoice to see the heart of Ishran the traitor, who has allowed his homeland to bleed to death!’

  Ishran snarled. ‘Not before I have a chance to pull your black stinking tongue from your throat, Glazrmhom. You have spent your entire life hating me because you have no balls, no kylon. You are a mere Glazrmhom!’

  ‘Silence!’ Seleza ordered. The desire of her children to kill each other was all over their faces. They stood panting, sizing each other up. ‘The only blood spilt will be yours, Ishran, if you attempt to prevent us from taking the Eom back to its rightful home. You have kept it too long in the Wastelands. It is clear you lack the brains to know how to charge it.’

  ‘Indeed, he cannot even charge his own foul wife with his seed!’ Rashka declared, glowering at Ishran.

  ‘At least I have a mate,’ Ishran rejoined. ‘I am not some dried-up old spinster, living with her Hosthatch, who has never enjoyed a kylon in her dehydrated pussy!’

  ‘Let me kill him now, Seleza,’ Rashka begged. Ishran grabbed the nearest object that came to his hand, a goblet of raspberry wine, and hurled it at Rashka. He missed, and it splattered his beloved tapestry from Florence. He screamed an unearthly high-pitched scream that, even to his ears, sounded ridiculous, and oddly Bluite. ‘Take the fucking Eom! Steal it from me then, carry it back to your stinking Web! Just don’t sit here another eyeston insulting the Ghormho! Come, I will take you to the fucking thing, and you can have it. Then I never want to see either of you in my castle again!’

  Seleza burst out laughing. ‘You really are pathetic, Ghormho,’ she said kindly. ‘You carry on like an old queen from the Blue Planet. Nobody tells the High Priestess of the Web-Kondoell what to do. Yea, I will take the Eom, not because you give me permission, but because the Eom belongs in the Web. Not here, not in this world, where goddesses rule and Azephim are not acknowledged.’

  ‘The Web?’ Ishran spluttered. Nearly beside himself with rage now, but somehow enjoying the drama. He realised he didn’t even fear them killing him; it would be a relief of a sort, never having to agonise over his double failure to charge the Eom and to impregnate Sati. ‘Surely it belongs in Zeglanada, to the Webx people! You are merely the thieves that stole the Eom from the Webx!’

  ‘Traitor!’ Rashka screamed. Abruptly, Seleza readjusted her head to her body and stood up. Ishran, believing this to be his last moment, shut his eyes. An image of Lazariel crossed his mind — laughing at him, eyes shining in admiration.

  ‘You truly are beyond help,’ Seleza said, watching him. ‘I had such high hopes for you when you were first hatched, but it breaks my heart to see you end up like this.’

  Ishran stared at her in shock. He had never seen Seleza display such emotion openly before.

  ‘Let me kill him, let me put him out of his misery,’ Rashka pleaded. ‘He longs for the sweet oblivion my teeth will bring to him.’

  ‘I do not!’ Ishran stood up. Now he was no longer the Ghormho, feared in all the known worlds. He was an angoli again, fighting with Rashka, terrified of Seleza. His head ached from the rum he had drunk all day, and he longed for his bed. All he wanted to do was lie back and remember Lazariel and the looks of admiration that Lazariel had given him. Walking unsteadily to the door, he turned and faced his Hosthatch and sibling. ‘Make yourself at home,’ he said. ‘Help yourself to everything you need. Food, wine, servers, Eom. Have my kylon, my very balls.’ He slammed the door behind him. It should have been a dignified exit, but he knew with deep shame that it was not. As he ascended the flight of stairs to his chambers, his wings drooping behind him, he was not surprised to hear the sly sounds of Charmonzhla’s snickering.

  *

  Fenn was dreaming of the Eom. In its polished planes she could see herself reflected, thousands of Fenns. The Eom was pulsating, a ray of dark green light hanging around it.

  ‘Time to go, Fenn,’ the Eom said in a mocking tone. An immense tide of misery began to swamp her. Out of the corner of one eye, she could see the two spinnerets that enclosed the Webx Elders. She realised with horror that they had unravelled. Huge ancient roots protruded from the base of each spinneret, threatening to snake across the floor and drag her to them. In another corner of the room, she could see Sati. Artemis was with her, sawing through her leg to retrieve the magi
cal garter Sati had stolen from Emma. Sati’s mouth was wide open in agony. She half-swooned, while the Goddess laughed and sawed through the bloody limb. ‘Time to go, Fenn!’ the Eom said sharply. Fenn awoke. Sati was actually in the room with her, shaking her. ‘Time to go, Fenn!’ she repeated. ‘Come on, hurry, wake yourself!’ Disorientated, Fenn blinked at her. ‘What time is it?’ she spluttered.

  Sati shook her head. ‘It’s time for you to leave.’

  Her mind muddled with sleep, Fenn attempted to follow what Sati was saving. ‘What do you mean?’ she asked, fear beginning to leap within her at the thought of what she might mean.

  The Azephim Queen avoided looking directly at her. ‘I have something to show you in the laboratories,’ she said. Fenn began to wonder if Sati had lost her mind; the laboratories had always been the one area of the castle that Fenn was forbidden to enter. Not that she had minded that decision, for she suspected that whatever secrets the laboratories contained would not be to her liking.

  ‘Get dressed and come quickly!’ Sati hissed. ‘Your very life may depend on it.’ Fenn realised that Sati wasn’t joking. It was the first time in her life that she could remember seeing Sati display fear. Quickly she threw on her clothes. Whatever they had kept from her in the depths of the castle, she now had to see. Outside the castle, the wind howled, and the sound was taken up by the restless Solumbi.

  Each step that led further down into the basement seemed to welcome Fenn with icy glee. Sati kept urging her to hurry. The air smelled musty and unpleasant. Thought patterns hung in the air, cries of the lost and tormented. Enormous cobwebs hung thick and heavy, dangling clinging fingers onto them as they passed. Dark moulds covered the walls, and Fenn heard rats squeaking. As they descended further, she began to see them: enormous, aggressive rats, who spat at the intruders in their domain.

  Finally the endless spiral of stairs ended, and they reached the huge oak doors that enclosed the laboratories. Sati spoke a series of words, and the doors opened. Fenn peered into the murky light. Fire lamps were burning on the walls. There was a repellent air about the room. She was loath to enter into it, afraid that it would cling to her, contaminate her in some way. All she really wanted to do was climb back up those stairs and lie with Jessie in bed again, listening to the wind outside. Sati read her mind. ‘No,’ she said. ‘You have to see.’

  The first detail that caught Fenn’s eyes when they entered the room were the spinnerets. She gasped. Hundreds of deadly cone webs, all of varying sizes, lined the walls. Seleza had outlawed this barbaric Azephim method of killing prey. Fenn had long suspected Ishran still practised it, though, and it was widely known that the Webx Elders were imprisoned in cocoons. But to actually see it nauseated her. The cocoons appeared to breathe. They were pitiful to look upon, knowing each one contained a being that was neither dead nor alive.

  As she began to look around the rooms, her horror intensified. Everywhere she looked, there appeared to be some new atrocity. There were hundreds of cages filled with animals from all the known worlds. Some were in too much pain from the clumsy operations performed upon them to respond. Some had the parts of other animals stitched to them, and Fenn had to control herself from breaking down entirely when she saw them. There was an owl with the head of a meerwog, an enjoli with the body of a cat; hundreds of ergom squeaked from cages pitifully, many missing body parts. Sati made no comment as Fenn looked with dread around the room, but appeared ill at ease. In one corner, an enormous Maja tarantula was tethered with chains to a pole, adorned with the head of a Bluite child. The child began crying as soon as she saw Fenn looking at her. ‘Mamma!’ she cried, in the voice of the damned.

  Fenn felt detestation and nausea sweeping every cell of her being. ‘Why are you showing me these horrors?’ she asked in bewilderment, wishing she had remained in ignorance of this place. This was the stuff from which nightmares were born. Now that she had seen it all, her life would never be the same. She could no longer remain in the Azephim castle, gathering the wild roses that she loved, embroidering her tapestries, and painting her pictures — when so much misery and suffering were beneath her very feet.

  Everywhere she looked, there was torment and cruelty. Rack upon rack of cruel instruments gleamed. Anatomical charts were pinned to the walls. Millions of screams hung in the air, but death never visited here. The inhabitants of the laboratory were not even given that grace. There was to be no oblivion to finish their pain.

  Then she saw something that touched her with a cold finger of shock. She hadn’t noticed them at first, because they were in large cages behind her, near the door. Faeries. There were four of them crammed into cages, and she could barely prevent a scream rising within her. A couple of the Faery people had heads of Faiaites sewn crudely onto them, and the other two were missing limbs. None of them retained their wings. They looked at Fenn with terror and sadness. They were Imomm, Fenn could see that much. She turned to Sati, her body shaking. The degree of anger sweeping her was frightening. ‘They must be released,’ she said.

  Sati shook her head. ‘Look at them, Fenn,’ she said. ‘How could we ever release them? Their own kind would never accept them, they would be outcast. They have no wings; how could they ever fly again? They would be picked off by predators. Dragon birds would swoop from the skies and carry them to their nests. Their own kind would use them for target practice. You would only be releasing them to death.’

  ‘Yes, and a merciful death it would be,’ Fenn said, close to breaking down. ‘You must release them. In the name of Alecom, have mercy on them!’

  Sati smiled sadly, her great wings rustling. ‘It is in Alecom’s name that these experiments have been performed. Ask yourself, why do these Faeries matter so much to you? They are Imomm after all, one of the most bloodthirsty and feared Faery tribes in all the known worlds. They perform the Dance of Death, they enslave Crossas, they plant changelings.’ Sati’s voice began to rise on the last word.

  ‘The Dances of Death are part of their culture!’ Fenn protested, anger striking within her. ‘They do not inflict suffering and pain for enjoyment as you and Ishran do! In the name of Alecom, you tell me! If that is what Alecom demands from me, then I never want to hear his filthy name again. I curse the name of Alecom!’

  ‘Be careful of your words,’ Sati warned. Her colour was high, and if Fenn had not been so enraged, she would have seen what Sati was attempting to suppress. Tears. ‘As long as I am Queen of the Azephim, the laboratories remain and the Imomm shall remain imprisoned.’

  ‘Then you can no longer be my Jurma!’ Fenn snapped.

  Sati drew her wings out. ‘I never was your Jurma!’ she rejoined. ‘How many times do I have to tell you? You were born of a Bindisore Bluite whore and the Stag Man. We stole you. We abducted you and carried you to the Wastelands, Jessie too. Your true Jurma was a milksop, an unworthy specimen who died from grief when you were abducted. By the breath of Alecom, I spit on her memory!’

  The Imomm began to cry weakly, sensing some possible help might be near. Fenn moaned. ‘I hate you!’ she screamed, ‘I hate the stinking Azephim, and I hate Ishran and Alecom! I never want to see you another day in my life, with your stinking rituals and raw meat!’

  ‘Fine! Then leave!’ Sati cried. ‘Remove yourself from my castle and never return. And if you do return, I will put you in a cage with Jessie’s head attached to your body!’

  Fenn made to go towards the door but Sati blocked her exit. ‘Listen to me,’ she said urgently. ‘Go now; I am ordering you to leave. Never look back on your time here. Get yourself to Faia village and seek help from the High Priestess. She will know what to do. Never attempt to enter the Wastelands again. It will be your death sentence to do so.’

  ‘I shall re-enter,’ Fenn said. ‘I will come back for these,’ she indicated the cages of listening Imomm.

  ‘Go quickly!’ Sati said. She shifted her Glamour to reveal the demonic side of her nature. Fenn stepped back. ‘But don’t take Jessie. It’s not safe for a d
og in the Wastelands.’

  ‘I shall take what I want!’ Fenn screamed. ‘Jessie is mine. She is the only thing I have of my true Jurma before you stole me!’ She ran towards the door, and this time Sati did not prevent her leaving. She listened as the sound of her steps faded from the laboratory. Only then did she give vent to her feelings and began to quietly sob. ‘Oh Alecom!’ she cried. ‘Why was I foolish enough to open my heart to love?’

  The Watcher Guards displayed no emotion when Fenn and Jessie slipped through the front doors of the castle. ‘Be careful, Miss Fenn, with that dog,’ they called. ‘The Solumbi are prowling tonight!’

  Fenn raised her hand in acknowledgment. The Solumbi held no real fear for her, she had been given the words since she was a small child that would halt their attacks. She stepped into the darkness, her long black cloak flapping around her in the wind. Jessie was delighted at the prospect of a walk in the middle of the night. Fenn had seriously deliberated not taking the old dog, but she was afraid that Jessie was so attached to her she might fret and die. Also, Fenn couldn’t bear to leave behind such an important link to her old life. It hurt her enough to leave the photos of Emma behind.

  She looked back for one last glimpse of the castle, wincing at the rows of bodies impaled on the turrets, the ominous presence enveloping the citadel. Why had she never realised how barbaric the Azephim really were? The love and affection they had shown her since she was small had blinded her to the darker face of the angels. She had tended rosebushes while they performed their atrocities in their laboratories. She had played ball with the Watcher Angels while beings had kicked out their lives on the castle turrets.