The Cosmic Logos

by Traci Harding

  ‘Hey, the X-files is starting.’ Arthur came romping up the hall to see where everyone had got to and was bowled over to find his soon-to-be owner in the office. ‘Well, bugger me … a miracle.’

  ‘Shhh!’ Tory and Astarleia stressed at once.

  The writer hesitated from switching on the computer when she noted the haunting theme music of her favourite show wafting up the hallway. She closed the book and stood to leave.

  ‘Forget the television,’ Tory appealed. ‘I’m offering you a trip to the Dark Ages, complete with handsome princes and knights, castles, dragons, Merlins, time travel and other Otherworldly mysteries.’

  ‘Go on, write.’ Arthur attempted to undo his interruption. ‘It’s only a repeat anyway.’

  The writer sat down again, and licking her fingers in the wake of her cheese grill, she switched on the computer.

  ‘Oh, haven’t you given up on that ridiculous project yet?’ Nictar appeared on the writer’s shoulder. ‘You got a D in English for Christ’s sake. You’re never going to be a writer.’

  ‘Is there some way to dismiss that thing?’ Tory inquired, as she watched the writer rise and leave the room.

  ‘The only way is to allow her to do as he wants,’ Arthur replied. ‘He’s as quiet as a mouse when she’s smoking.’

  ‘Nictar telepathically perceives stimulation from our subject when she smokes, and he concentrates very hard to do so,’ Astarleia clarified. ‘The only other way to be rid of Nictar is if our subject stops smoking altogether and she’s not very disposed towards that idea.’

  The TV switched off and a haunting Celtic melody began to waft through the apartment.

  ‘Now that’s more like it,’ Tory said with feeling. The melody created just the right mood for their tale.

  The writer re-entered the office carrying an ashtray, cigarettes, lighter and a cup of tea, all of which she placed on the desk.

  ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake will you please have a smoke!’ Nictar followed the writer back to the desk.

  ‘Put us all out of our misery, will you, Trace,’ Arthur insisted, jumping up onto the desk where he could check out the action.

  ‘Arthur, we do not encourage her,’ Astarleia scolded sweetly.

  ‘I know.’ The cat watched as the writer created a new file. ‘But constant chatter makes me crazy!’

  The writer, faced with a blank page, reached for a smoke and lit up. Nictar gave a satisfied sigh and shut up.

  Frances and Hazel appeared in the office and were quietly delighted to see the new muse was on the case.

  ‘All right then, let us work.’ Tory manifested a copy of the not-yet-written novel in her hand and the book opened at her mental command. ‘Chapter One, The Stones,’ she read.

  SC 1. EXT. SACRED STONE CIRCLE/ENGLAND. EVENING. The writer typed and then paused.

  ‘Oh, no.’ Tory had forgotten about this little snag.

  ‘Listen to me, Traci, my sweet. This story has to be a book, not a film.’ Astarleia intervened to assert her influence. ‘No more waiting for other people to give the nod. If we write a book, our success rests entirely upon our own shoulders. It’s high time you took control of your destiny … fortune does favour the brave, after all.’

  ‘What the hell,’ the writer decided, deleting what she’d typed. ‘Screenwriter, author, who cares,’ she shrugged, ‘as long as I’m getting paid for doing it.’

  ‘That’s the spirit!’ Tory gave a cheer as the writer typed, Chapter One, and then paused. ‘The Stones,’ Tory prompted.

  ‘But what Stones?’ The writer looked at her reference books and pulled one off the shelf that detailed the sacred stone circles of Ancient Briton.

  ‘Is the King’s Men stone circle featured therein?’ Tory asked the Oversoul.

  ‘Yes.’ With a wave of Astarleia’s hand the book fell from the writer’s grasp and landed open on the floor to the section that featured the said site.

  After checking out the location of the King’s Men stones in Oxfordshire on a map of the ancient world, the writer decided that the site would suit her tale well. She’d visited several stone circles whilst in the UK and knew well enough what the atmosphere of such sites felt like.

  ‘Now to give my warrioress a name,’ the writer mumbled, reaching for a little booklet titled What To Name the Baby.

  ‘Tory,’ Astarleia advised her subject. ‘Look under “T” names.’

  ‘No, not Tori.’ The writer picked up on the thought and rejected it. ‘There’s a chick on a TV soap called Tori and she gives me the shits.’

  Tory laughed, familiar with the show her subject was talking about. ‘Why not spell Tory with a Y then?’

  The subject placed the book aside seeming rather pleased with this solution. ‘Yes, with a Y. I like that, it’s more masculine … more befitting my character’s warrioress nature.’ The writer sat forward and placed her fingers on the keyboard to begin.

  ‘As evening cast its shadow across the horizon …’ Tory began to relay her tale and all present fell silent to listen, bar Nictar.

  ‘Any chance of another smoke?’

  Six hours later, in the wee hours of morning, six pages of text scrolled past the writer’s eyes and filled them with tears of relief. ‘This is really good,’ she decided, referring to how stimulated she felt, rather than to what she’d written, although that wasn’t bad either. ‘I want to keep going, but …’ She glanced at the clock on the wall that was telling her that she should have been in bed hours ago.

  ‘Got any holidays owing at work?’ Tory, who was still raring to go, questioned.

  ‘I could probably get a couple of weeks off,’ the subject posed, inspired by the idea only a moment. ‘But I’d have to book them in advance,’ she resolved sounding disappointed that she couldn’t award her new story all of her time and energy straightaway.

  ‘Then book your time off,’ Tory urged enthusiastically. ‘We have some serious researching that we can do until then.’

  ‘A holiday and a research trip to the library, is exactly what the doctor ordered,’ the writer decided, saving her work and switching off the computer for the night.

  ‘I don’t want to sound pessimistic, but I don’t think two weeks off is going to make a dent in that doorstop of a novel you’re holding.’ Astarleia appeared concerned that the subject might get pushed too hard too quickly.

  ‘I realise that,’ Tory granted, ‘but it will be a start. You and I will cook up a long-term solution in the interim which will satisfy everyone’s concerns.’

  Astarleia smiled, pleased that Tory was so easy to get along with. ‘Come on then, let’s get to work.’

  ‘What do you mean? Isn’t she going to bed?’

  ‘Yes,’ Astarleia concurred. ‘But all of her other guides head off to arrange contacts and so forth when she sleeps, so this is the time when we muses of the spirit and the imagination get some of our best work done.’

  ‘Does Nictar disappear too?’ Tory prayed for relief from his constant nagging and negative attitude.

  Astarleia nodded, fully appreciating Tory’s disenchantment. ‘She can’t smoke in her sleep, so there’s no point in him hanging around.’

  ‘Thank heavens!’ Tory emphasised, following the Oversoul into the bedroom. ‘God is merciful, after all.’

  11

  ANGELS AND

  DEMONS

  The four sons of the Dragon met with Lahmu, the Governess of Kila, En Noah, Bast and Lirathea for a closed meeting to decide what was to be done to combat Viper’s latest threat to peace.

  ‘Nothing and no one will be safe if that witch takes an immortal body and teams up with an army of immortal demons,’ Brian stated, deeply concerned by their negligence of security, but rational and calm now that Fallon had been delivered home unharmed.

  ‘Initially, it’s Gaia they’re after.’ Noah was quite sure about that. ‘If we can prevent Viper getting a stranglehold on that planet, he’ll not have a chance to spread his chaos elsewhere.’

&n
bsp; ‘I should head a task force and go to Gaia without delay,’ Rhun insisted, eager to make amends for his last oversight.

  ‘I am hoping your parents foresaw these events and that that is why they made their move to Gaia.’ The Governor nodded to okay the mission. ‘Name your team.’

  Rhun was about to answer when he rethought his response and turned to his youngest sister. ‘Tell me, Lirathea, who shall I need?’

  Lirathea smothered her flattered smile. Her eldest brother had never taken her psychic aptitude very seriously, but now that the Governor relied on her word, obviously so did Rhun. ‘Take your brothers, all of them, for strength,’ she began. ‘Fight as your foes may, the sons of Maelgwn Gwynedd will not be divided. Take Bast, for charm —’

  ‘And me.’ Fallon made her presence known to those in the closed meeting.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Avery freaked. ‘You’re supposed to be hiding out in the Otherworld.’

  Brian stood to agree with Avery, but was not given the chance to speak.

  ‘Listen to me,’ Fallon insisted. ‘Viper may have wanted my body for the crone to inhabit, but I don’t think the crone will want it once she realises that dark Orme does not have a lasting effect on my body.’

  ‘Huh?’ seemed to be the general consensus.

  ‘If light Orme does not have a lasting effect on a dark heart then it stands to reason that the opposite is also true,’ Fallon summed up, and everyone seemed amazed not to have considered this possibility. ‘I also think,’ she hastened to add whilst they were all still speechless, ‘you should have Rebecca check out Viper’s sister. Gazelle did good by us this day and I suspect that she may be more in tune with gold Orme than dark Orme. If so, there is a chance that Viper has the only truly dark heart amongst his people, or at least be one of very few.’ She shrugged. ‘Perhaps our problems are not so great as we think.’ Once Fallon finished her rave, she looked around at everyone’s stunned expressions.

  ‘She’s on the team.’ Rhun awarded Fallon her due, as the rest of the room broke into a round of applause.

  Fallon felt a bit self-conscious as she was not used to receiving accolades. ‘It’s just a theory,’ she added demurely.

  But it wasn’t really her theory that they were applauding. It was the emergence of her full potential. ‘It’s a good theory,’ her father granted, proud of her. ‘Right then?’ Brian brought the room back to order and turned his attention to Rhun. ‘Anyone else?’

  Rhun, in turn, looked to Lirathea.

  ‘If Gazelle proves to be one of the righteous, she should also go with you.’

  ‘Too dangerous,’ Bast insisted. ‘She could be a double agent, and as she is not one of the Chosen, she may prove fickle and betray us at a crucial moment.’

  ‘That’s unfair!’ Sparrowhawk defended. ‘She saved our butts back on Numan —’

  ‘She was saving her own butt, Sparrow,’ Bast argued.

  ‘Rebecca will discover the truth.’ Lirathea intervened in the dispute. ‘And if Gazelle proves to be one of us, then we must make her one of the Chosen.’

  Everyone gasped at this suggestion, although Sparrowhawk smiled as well.

  ‘Light and dark Orme is the means which the Logos has given us to tell the righteous from the damned.’ Lirathea put forth her view. ‘The heart speaks for itself and cannot lie, therefore there should be no more withholding the everlasting life of gold Orme from any human who proves themselves worthy. If they turn against us, then their immortal state will be short-lived.’

  Brian smiled, thankful to be beginning to understand the rules of the game they were playing. ‘I shall handle the aspirants on a case by case basis,’ Lahmu decided, looking from Lirathea to Sparrowhawk, who seemed particularly interested in the prisoner. ‘Bring me Rebecca’s findings on Viper’s sister, Sparrowhawk, and then I shall decide what is to become of her.’

  ‘Yes, Governor.’ Sparrowhawk, thankful for his sister’s intervention, looked to Lirathea, who winked at him. Suddenly he understood that the oracle had more than likely foreseen his meeting Gazelle, which explained Lirathea’s withdrawal from him and public life.

  ‘Meantime, Rhun,’ Brian looked to his Vice-Governor, ‘why don’t you take the rest of your team and do a preliminary scout of Gaia? You should make contact with Doc Alexander and advise him of our concerns. If there’s trouble brewing anywhere on the planet, he’ll know about it, and where there’s trouble you’ll find our demon.’

  ‘I shall touch base with the Otherworldly inhabitants there,’ Avery proffered, ‘and see what they know.’

  Brian nodded to give him leave. ‘Just you keep my daughter in your sight at all times and at the first sign of trouble you whip her back to the Otherworld, is that clear?’ He got a nod in response from both Avery and Fallon.

  ‘Let us to work, people.’ Rhun inspired his team to action. ‘Meet back here, this time tomorrow.’ The Vice-Governor looked to Avery to make an appeal. ‘That is, if the Pan man takes us to Gaia via his shortcut.’

  ‘I suppose I could see my way clear to doing that.’ Avery held out his hand to Fallon and she took hold.

  They wandered over to join hands with the rest of their team and once the circle of five was complete, the group vanished.

  As En Noah and the Governess moved in to have a close conversation with Lahmu, Lirathea turned to Sparrowhawk and took hold of his hand.

  ‘I understand now —’ Sparrow began to say, but Lirathea placed her fingers over his lips and silenced him.

  ‘You don’t know the half of it, Sparrow.’ She smiled as she said this. ‘And you don’t need to. Gazelle is the woman you’ve been looking for. She’s been badly hurt, but you shall mend her.’ The oracle swallowed hard. ‘She has no idea what love is, dear brother.’ Lirathea let go of Sparrowhawk’s hand and stepped away. ‘Show her,’ she advised and faded from sight.

  The Falcon leader was emotionally confused by these events, but melted to a smile as he considered that he’d been given charge of the beautiful warrioress captive.

  ‘Come, Sparrowhawk,’ Noah requested once the young ruler was at leisure. ‘I shall accompany you and Gazelle to see my good wife.’

  ‘Sorry about the cuffs.’ Sparrowhawk made conversation with the stony-faced warrioress who was his prisoner. In the lab next door, Noah and Rebecca ran tests on the tissue and blood samples they had taken from Viper’s sister, and the Falcon leader had been left to guard her in the consultation room.

  ‘I’ve been a prisoner all my life.’ Gazelle shrugged, pretending not to be bothered. She did not look directly at Sparrowhawk as she spoke, however, which seemed to indicate a lack of self-esteem that was in conflict with her tough appearance. ‘I feel safer here on Kila, in chains, than I ever did at liberty with my kindred.’

  He looked up at Gazelle sitting on the bed from his seated position in a chair against the wall; Sparrowhawk couldn’t help but feel for her, as he’d had such an idyllic childhood. ‘Have you no fond memories of your childhood at all?’

  Gazelle rolled her eyes, thinking it impossible to describe her past to such a well balanced, happy, polite, young man. ‘I didn’t have a childhood.’ She took a stab at painting a picture for the lord. ‘My fondest memory …’ she paused to take a breath and swallow her welling tears of anger, ‘… is when, at eight years of age, Viper murdered our mother for allowing us to be abused by anyone who made it worth her while. I watched him stab her, and I smiled with glee as the life blood flowed from her body.’ She couldn’t glance at the young Falcon ruler now. She didn’t want to see the disgust and horror on his face.

  Sparrowhawk died a thousand deaths in that moment, imagining what Gazelle’s life to date had been like. It was too gut wrenching to entertain the notion for very long and yet this woman had lived such hell all her life. Suddenly, it wasn’t hard to see why Viper had grown into such a monster. ‘By what miracle are you still sane?’ the warrior uttered. ‘I am so sorry, Gazelle.’

  Gazelle considered the h
onest remorse in his voice a rather odd reaction. This was not at all what she’d expected. ‘It had nothing to do with you. Why should you be sorry?’ Gazelle ventured a look in Sparrowhawk’s direction and was touched by the sorrow that had overshadowed his handsome face.

  ‘It is the responsibility of Lahmu’s council to prevent such abuse,’ he reasoned. ‘I am part of that council and I —’

  ‘Don’t get all worked up about it.’ Gazelle played down the hurt her plight had caused her. ‘You’re only new to the council, the way I hear it.’

  Sparrowhawk nodded to concede she was correct, although it didn’t make him feel any less guilty. ‘I’ve been so wrapped up in my own petty pain that I forgot that others have woes far greater than my own … woes that I should be doing something about!’ he concluded, annoyed with himself. This was what En Noah’s graduation prophecy had pointed to — forgetting the self and getting on with the job of making the universe a better place.

  ‘Tell me about your pain.’ Gazelle considered the request fair as she had just confided to him one of her darkest secrets.

  Sparrowhawk shook his head and shrugged, shying away from the question. ‘It is a mere trifle in comparison to what you have endured.’ He dismissed the subject.

  ‘Good.’ Gazelle placed her hands on her hips to insist. ‘Then you won’t feel embarrassed when you tell me all about it … or is the trust I have shared not mutual?’

  ‘I trust you, Gazelle,’ he was quick to assure her. ‘It’s just that —’

  The door through to the lab vanished and Rebecca entered the consultation room, accompanied by En Noah.

  ‘I have good news.’ Rebecca looked at Gazelle and smiled broadly, although she approached Sparrowhawk and handed him the PKA orb thought recorder containing the report of her findings. ‘Give this to Lahmu to consider, and I feel fairly confident of seeing Gazelle back in my lab within the hour to receive a dose of gold Orme.’

  ‘You mean I’m not damned?’ Gazelle was thunderstruck by the information.