Circle of Nine: Circle of Nine Trilogy 1

by Josephine Pennicott

  I am a God who sets the head afire with smoke.

  Then I saw him carried to the pyres. I saw myself among the villagers who jeered and taunted. The terrible adrenaline of fear pumped through his body. The Glamour Mary had placed around him had turned him into the dummy effigy that I had witnessed. Or had I? Perhaps the crowd had always seen the human Crossa and I alone had seen the dummy. Oh God! Waves of fear broke over me. I was in the middle of a pack of bloodthirsty pagan beasts who wanted to sacrifice me next! Terror rose in my belly, genetic memories of the millions of witchburnings throughout history still echoing within my cells. Yet as fear flickered through my body I continued to dance and to sing.

  I am a stag of seven times.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  We gave him our best foods,

  And he drank our fine wines,

  Our bonniest maidens,

  His eyes blind to the signs.

  We clothed him in fabrics

  That the old Crones did weave,

  Words dipped in honey

  He wished to believe.

  (Chorus)

  And the Wheel it turned slowly

  And the seasons did change,

  The attention we lavished

  He did not think it strange.

  He died slow in the fire

  Screaming a curse,

  But Faiaites don’t question

  The Dreamers’ desire.

  The spider’s web woven

  Before he was born,

  His bones now are ashes

  To grow Faian corn.

  — ‘The Crossa’, Faian Drinking Song

  Mary was beside me, releasing me from a yellow ribbon. ‘It is time to leave the maypole, Emma. You have danced for long enough.’ Sweat ran down my face, revulsion welled inside me and I threw caution to the wind.

  ‘I saw what you did!’ I accused.

  Mary stepped back a few paces and threw her silver cloak about herself. She held out her hand to me.

  ‘Come,’ she said firmly.

  I found myself following the High Priestess. A part of me longed to run back to the pyre, scrabble among the ashes and look for evidence of any human flesh that remained. Then what would I do? Run to the Faia police and accuse the entire town of ritual murder?

  Mary chuckled. ‘There’s little point raking over the ashes, my dear! There is naught but the embers there now.’

  ‘Did you burn him, Mary?’ I asked. Inside myself fury flared at my helplessness. In this enigmatic world even the smallest child appeared to possess more power than me.

  Mary considered my accusation as the light from the moons illuminated the shadows in her beautiful, sculpted face.

  ‘If you’re asking me did I burn a body — well, yes, I did. Was that body of human flesh or of material and straw? That, I suppose, depends upon your own perception. Was what you saw “real”? Am I “real”? Was the Blue Planet “real”? Or is Faia “real”? Most important of all, my friend — are you “real”? Or are you a laughing idiot dummy? A dummy that only realises her mortality when the fire elementals begin to make love to your flesh?’

  I opened my mouth to retort angrily but said nothing. I was too confused and afraid, half-expecting that I was the barbecue for their next festival. Besides, I could never be one hundred per cent certain that I had witnessed a human body burnt to death.

  I am mad, I decided. There was a certain reassurance in that fact. I had silently wondered whether I was insane for years, ever since the shining first came upon me as a small child. I had never known ‘normal’ people to see or hear the things I did. It was a lot easier to believe that I was mad rather than have to face the disturbing possibility that they had tortured to death a dummy which became a live man. And the inevitable question plagued me — was I to be next?

  Mary watched my inner turmoil, her face expressionless.

  ‘Poor Emma,’ she said. There was no hint of sympathy in her tone.

  *

  I continued to follow the High Priestess as she walked away from the maypole monument. We passed field after field of infertile soil which was yet to yield the long-awaited crops. Faint cries of laughter and sounds of dancing drifted across the fields from where the villagers still cavorted around the maypole. Beneath those sounds I could just detect a soft sighing which seemed to come from the earth itself. It was as if it was in mourning. I stumbled over uneven ground in pursuit of Mary, who began to move faster and faster.

  ‘Where are you taking me? Won’t Khartyn and Rosedark be worried about me?’

  Mary shook her head and the stars in her hair glinted ferociously.

  ‘They will dance the maypole until dawn break. Besides, the Crone is aware you are with me.’

  ‘But where are we going?’ I was beginning to feel afraid that she was leading me to my prearranged death. I imagined myself abandoned in these dead fields with my throat cut by Mary’s hand, blood dripping on the barren soil, a sacrifice to placate Persephone and encourage her to rise.

  Mary laughed, half in disgust, half in amusement.

  ‘You’ve seen too many Hollywood films, Emma! I have not brought you to the fields to slit your throat! I’ve merely acted at the request of another’

  ‘Who?’ I demanded, feeling my heart begin to pump faster.

  When Mary did not reply, I turned to her to repeat the question, only to discover with shock that the High Priestess had vanished! I began to berate myself. I had been a fool to trust Mary! Now I’d been dumped in the middle of nowhere, and not even Khartyn or Rosedark knew where Mary’d taken me. Tentatively, half-expecting Persephone herself to spring from the earth and drag me into the underground, I began to hunt for an exit out of the field. Frustratingly, all I appeared to do was travel in continual circles! I was now totally disorientated and there were no distinguishing landmarks. Not a single tree stood within my sight and all aspects of the field looked the same. Even the subdued noise from Faia with the Belthane celebrations seemed to surround the field so I could not orient myself that way. It’s some form of bewitchment, I thought in disgust. If I ever get myself out of this field I’ll throttle Mary!

  Frantically, I began to run the perimeter of the circle again, desperately trying to escape. But the field continued to entrap me within its borders and I began to feel like a mouse in a training wheel. Exhausted and panicky, I sank to my knees in the soil, beginning to sob hysterically. Then I saw him in the half-light of the moon on the opposite side of the field coming toward me.

  I am a stag of seven times.

  It was the Stag Man of my dreams and with his appearance he brought enchantment and delight and knowledge of beauty. He moved slowly toward me in that drugged night, materialising himself in the hot, scented air. His body seemed to be still forming out of a soft mist. Tonight on sacred Belthane he was half-man, half-stag. His eyes were aqua oceans of truth, lips full and sensual, face half-man, half-beast, his hair hung to his waist blond and tangled. On the crown of his head his huge antlers glowed. He was far more spectacular than he was in any dream. His stag body was muscular and shone with purity and strength. His human arms were wiry, with intricate tattoos of snakes and spirals and shells adorning his beauty. His aura pulsated slowly, flashes of red, silver and gold. I caught my breath in awe. He was a primordial being, a song, a prayer remembered. The night breeze bought his animal odour to me. So the sprite had a smell, and a form.

  I stood motionless as he slowly encircled me. My eyes widened in shock at his materialisation. I felt no fear of his presence, for his glory revealed that there was indeed nothing in any of the worlds to fear when such a one as he could live among us. All I felt was awe and curiosity and a strange, savage, submerged longing.

  Slowly he advanced toward me; closer, closer. I could have reached a hand out and touched his opaque, silky flank. His eyes were dark chips, his face tense and wary.

  No doubt he smelt the world of man which still emanated from my pores.

  ‘Why did you take so long to come?
’ I demanded.

  My voice shocked me as it ricocheted over the waiting, silent field.

  ‘Why did you wait until now?’ I repeated. The yearning inside me threatened to suffocate me.

  ‘I came many times,’ he replied, and sparks of silver flashed from his antlers. ‘I came many times in many forms, but you failed to recognise me.’

  I sank to my knees in the earth, a terrible pain gripping my chest. My body was irritating me, suffocating me. I longed to slough it off, throw it from me and leave it lying discarded, useless, spent. The cocoon. Discard it like thousands of other cocoons I had cast from myself.

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘Cast off the body and you will be lost once more to me.’

  Now hot tears flowed freely from my eyes and I feared my imperfect Bluite heart would break.

  ‘Why here?’ I asked. ‘Why now?’

  He smiled and his smile was the smile of a doomed man on his way to the guillotine.

  ‘Grace,’ he replied. ‘The Dreamers gave us grace.’

  He moved closer to me. Now I could see the veins running through his legs leading to his heart, and the light spidery blue veins that merged with his skin. From his crown chakra the love and desire that he felt for me blew rose-gold rays into the air.

  ‘We have a short time only,’ he said. ‘Only the time that Mary can keep the veil between the worlds open.’

  I saw him shudder with emotion and I realised his pain was as intense as my own. The control that I had struggled to maintain broke and I ran to him. Pain gave my kisses passion, the kiss that ignited the life-force that had been so low inside my body for lifetimes. The body that he inhabited now was as familiar as my own. Eagerly I located his penis, whispering to him to enter me, to claim me. My wild passion told me illogically that if he was inside me he could never leave. On the infertile earth we moved together. One being and one being only.

  When our lovemaking was completed we lay spent on the earth. The Stag Man turned to me and viewed me tenderly with eyes that were my eyes. He stroked my hand gently with a hand that was my hand.

  ‘We have completed the rite,’ he said, his voice breaking with emotion.

  ‘Please don’t go,’ I whispered to the night, the sky.

  He looked up at the moon. ‘I will always be there, Emma. You may not be aware of me, but I will always be there. It cannot be otherwise.’

  Even as he spoke, he was dematerialising. I screamed. I tried with all the force of my will to keep the worlds open, but it was in vain. I lay on the earth and poured my grief into the soil.

  *

  There were footsteps, the perfume of roses. Mary gazed down upon Emma who lay on the ground unheeding and uncaring. Grief and pain had ravaged her face.

  These two love too much, Mary thought. She felt relieved that she had been spared through grace the suffering that was romantic love. Taking from beneath her cloak a small vial of neroli oil, she anointed Emma’s face and wrists and adjusted her clothing for her. The Crossa’s breathing was shallow and her eyes were dulled and contained no life.

  ‘Will he come back, Mary?’ Emma asked. It was the cry of a child.

  Mary sighed. ‘It is up to the Dreamers, Emma. For now you will have to let him go.’

  ‘I can’t,’ Emma said.

  Mary took her face and pulled it around so Emma was forced to look at her.

  ‘Listen to me, Emma! There is very little time left! You have to pull yourself together! You have visited this world in other forms. You are not of Bluite blood as you believe yourself to be — and neither was your Aunt Johanna. The Tremites’ whisperings have told me that in your first lifetime you stepped on Faia soil in the company of the Stone Wizards, a group of dark wizards who caused much destruction in this world. You originated from a doorway in the Heztarra Galaxy, a star galaxy that is little known in Faia. Even the Scribes rarely mention it, but we do know that some very advanced life forms have come from the Heztarra. I believe that you originated in your earlier incarnation from the Webx race of tree elders. The Webx are a powerful tree-worshipping race, part tree themselves.

  ‘As for the Stag Man, I believe he came from the same race and was some sort of soul mate to you. The pair of you assisted the Stone Wizards to spill Faian blood on sacred soil. You were separated from your ancient half, and the Stag Man and yourself awaited the next incarnation into Eronth which I cannot speak of here. All I know is you were allotted the tyranny of endless births and you lost the memory of your true origins.

  ‘Johanna was seeded to remind you when the time was near for you to return to fulfil your karmic debt on Eronth, but the Azephim intervened and Johanna refused to cross, which made her easy pickings for the Solumbi. The land has called you to us again, Emma, and you have no choice! You have to work with us!’

  ‘You want me to fight the Azephim?’ Emma asked coldly. ‘Sacrifice myself for a mistake that I can’t even remember?’

  Mary smiled. ‘No. Tonight you have already fulfilled a major part of your debt. For you are now with child.’

  And Mary was gratified to witness the soul return to Emma’s eyes.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  If you are good and quiet, your mother will be kind,

  But if you’re wilful, then you’ll feel my switch on your behind;

  And if you are truly naughty, I’ll bake you in a pie

  And take you to the Wastelands, for the Azephim to try!

  The Solumbi are hunting, for bad children to eat,

  They hate the taste of good children, but bad children taste sweet!

  Black Annis is about, but good children do not fear.

  Oh, a tap upon the door, oh no! Black Annis is here!

  — Eronth lullaby

  Dawn was breaking over Faia when Mary and I returned to the village circle. As Mary had prophesied, Khartyn and Rosedark were still joyously dancing the maypole in a state of trance. Mary paused and placed her hands on my shoulders.

  ‘We must part here for now, but I know the Dreamers will dream us into being together again. Now you must continue your journey into the Wastelands.’

  She fixed me with a solemn expression, and in the pale steel-blue of the dawn light I saw the vulnerability of a fellow Crossa deep inside her High Priestess of Faia persona. For all her exalted status she was still an Earth woman in a world where she would never fully belong, hopelessly estranged from her own kind forever.

  ‘When I lived as a Bluite, Emma, Ishran came to my family home and brought under his dark influence weak lost souls whom he had slaughter my entire family. I had to stand helplessly by and watch, as my own bloodkin were raped and murdered in front of me. The Beautiful One crosses frequently between the worlds and wherever his feet tread, blood is spilt. Since the Azephim were banished to the Wastelands no Eronthite has dared to violate Azephim territory. This is the first time that the Tremites have requested it.’

  There was a low note of terrible sadness ringing through her soul as she related the tragedy to me.

  ‘Why do Khartyn and Rosedark have to accompany me? Are they karmically in debt to Faia as well?’

  ‘No. They accompany you in love and service. Also, since you have forgotten so many of the ancient ways it would be too dangerous for you to travel alone.’

  She paused as the sound of tinkling bells filled the air and the three Islaes from the night before appeared.

  ‘Now I must leave you, Emma. Safe journey. Prosperous Harvest.’

  Mary walked swiftly away to join the Islaes. She didn’t look back. I sat against a crumbling brick wall, shivering in the morning chill waiting for Khartyn and Rosedark to join me. There was no doubt in my mind that Mary’s pronouncement was accurate. I was with child. Yet already, as I had previously experienced in this land where the ‘now’ was everything, all the events of the night were becoming blurred. Anything that wasn’t happening in present time, as was the custom in Faia, lost importance and significance. There had been a Stag Man . . . I frowned. Had I dreamt him or had h
e been real? A dream, I decided, like all my other dreams he had filled over the years. Now I was pregnant and that too was a dream.

  I watched as Khartyn and Rosedark walked toward me. Their faces were glowing from the night’s exertion. Rosedark was limping, and looked ready to drop, Khartyn had a bounce to her step and looked as if she could dance the maypole for a month. They accompany you in love and service. For the first time since I began this impossible journey I felt a genuine warmth for my two protectors.

  *

  Mary concentrated on the piles of charts and maps that were covering the desk before her. Ano also scrutinised the charts over her shoulder.

  ‘Why does it have to be coded!’ the High Priestess exclaimed in exasperation. ‘Surely if we use the Tongue of All Worlds it defeats the whole purpose!"

  Ano shrugged a black-velveted shoulder. ‘The Tremites prefer to leave the Book of Life open to interpretation.’

  Mary sighed. ‘So your interpretation is that there is a massing of Jupiter, Saturn and Mars, a triple alignment occurring now for the third month, and the longed-for nova is expected to occur. The DO Aquilae.’

  Ano nodded. ‘Of course, it could be otherwise, but there have been other signs . . . not just the Tremite writings.’

  Mary dismissed his comment with a wave of her hand. She was aware the Janusites could find meaning in a puff of wind.

  ‘The star of Bethlehem,’ she asked. ‘What does it mean for us, Ano?’

  She brushed her hair back from her exhausted face.

  The Janusite hesitated. ‘A breaking away of the old. The goddesses gaining more ground. Prior restrictions becoming lighter. Most likely the star heralds the birth of the Maya child.’

  ‘How is it connected to Eom?’

  The Janusite ran his hands over his faces. ‘There is no doubt in my mind that the Eom will reactivate itself.’

  Mary began to fold the charts together. Glamour or no Glamour, tonight she felt centuries old. ‘But how? The Azephim obviously cannot reactivate it, thank Goddess! I would sleep easier if the Eom was returned to the Webx, aye, even to the Web rather than it remain on Eronth soil! Ishran is mad to have the crystal in his possession!’