Circle of Nine: Circle of Nine Trilogy 1

by Josephine Pennicott

  The remainder of the countryside appeared to consist of large rock boulders and withered, black-charred trees that stretched with monotonous regularity wherever I looked. Large rotting bodies of unknown origin lay on the ground, causing us to watch every step. Some of them, in the early stages of decomposition, were obviously Solumbi. I could feel myself wanting to retch as we passed them. Others looked more human, sprawled in unnatural poses, a testament to an unnatural death. Flowers became bones in this bleak landscape. Some of the fresher bodies were swarming with insects, flies and vultures. I had never seen such huge birds in my life. Their eyes were tiny cold suns as they sized me up wondering how long it would be before their large beaks could rip into my flesh.

  Even the Triple Moons could not be seen here. The sky held only a pale sun, similar to the Earth’s sun, which emitted weak rays of warmth. All in all it was a grim and desolate place, bare and filled with tears. Like hell. An eerie light shimmered over the grim landscape. Fear returned to me and began to stir uneasily within me.

  Khartyn surveyed the dead land before us. ‘There are other parts of the Wastelands more scenic than these outer borders.’

  Rosedark shuddered. ‘I don’t want to explore them, Old Mother. There’s a saying on the Blue Planet — they say it a lot about places like this. I think it’s “this place gives me the creeps!” Can we leave now?’

  ‘It’s meant to do precisely that,’ Khartyn replied, ‘Don’t forget that Sati and Ishran want this land for themselves. They have driven out entire Faery tribes that once flourished in the Wastelands. They slaughtered them in bloody massacres and rendered the land unlivable by poisoning the environment. It was not too many moons ago that wildlife and plant life flourished here. Now it is a desert.’

  ‘It’s hard to believe that the giants actually want to come and live here!’ Rosedark said with a shudder.

  ‘Only the Azephim would put their aged in an outpost such as the Outerezt,’ Khartyn said, her hair sticking up from her head, and looking more like a decrepit spider than ever. ‘May the Darkness give light and be merciful to the Azephim for the shameful way that they have treated the land!’

  I stared at the stark landscape and felt an immense sadness which seemed to pulsate from the planet’s core, as if nodding in agreement with the Crone’s words.

  ‘This is one of the many crimes that Sati and Ishran will be held accountable for,’ Khartyn continued.

  ‘Who will judge their souls, Old Mother?’ Rosedark queried. ‘Great Zeus?’

  ‘Not Zeus, but the Dreamers. On the day that Hecate leads the Azephim to the Dreamers they will have to face the consequences of their actions.’

  ‘That’s if they agree to let go of their bodies, Mother!’ Rosedark exclaimed. ‘For there are rumours in Faia that Sati is negotiating immortality with Hecate in return for the provision of a constant supply of dead bodies!’

  Khartyn laughed out loud at this and regarded Rosedark scornfully. ‘Maid, I have warned you before about listening to Faia gossip! Now keep your wits close to you, my good girls, for packs of Solumbi and mountain lions roam freely. They normally —’

  She broke off in shock at the apparition that suddenly materialised in front of us. Gigantic in form, over eight feet tall, he made an imposing figure despite the air of ethereal fragility that clung to him. An elderly man, his long silver-white hair hung to his knees and his long white beard was plaited. Where his eyes should have been were only empty sockets.

  ‘Don’t be alarmed!’ Khartyn said to us. Rosedark and I were both staring open-mouthed at the new arrival. ‘Tis only Old Narziel the Toll-Keeper. Hail, All Seeing One! Merry meet, Narziel! We have travelled from the land of the Triple Moons to seek an audience with Lord Ishran in the Castle of the Azephim. We respectfully beseech you for permission to pass.’

  Narziel grinned slyly, revealing his shrunken gums and gnarled rows of yellowed teeth. He spat on the ground. ‘Merry meet to yeself, Khartyn, respected Crone of Faia and to you beautiful lasses! I believe your mission, Crone, is to travel through my Wastelands in an attempt to destroy Ishran and Sati. Oh yea! Old Narziel knows the object of your journey! The entire Wastelands whisper it to me!’

  He went into cackles of laughter while Khartyn looked helplessly at her travelling companions.

  ‘Old one, will you let us pass?’ Khartyn requested evenly.

  Narziel began to hop up and down on one foot with excitement.

  ‘Come now, Crone! You know the price! Dinna be shy now. You can only pass if you give Old Narziel something of value. Now, no cheating, mind you, lassies! The Wastelands demands it must be something you truly value or Old Narziel will know!’

  Again he erupted into hysterical giggles. Khartyn frowned, her head slightly bowed, as she reluctantly passed her athame over.

  ‘Will you accept my athame, old one? It has been at my side serving me for centuries.’

  Narziel examined the athame, running his fingers carefully over the blade.

  ‘Athame, eh? The Wastelands is whispering to me and it whispers yea! Old Narziel will accept it. Now what of the young lassies? What will you give to Old Narziel, Miss Golden Hair?’

  From her ilkama’s saddlebag, Rosedark produced a large pair of scissors. She began to snip at her long locks until her hair hung in spiky tangles to her shoulders. I could see the tears in her eyes fall in sympathy with her hair. When she had finished she dismounted, gathered the fallen hair in a bundle and dropped it at Narziel ‘s feet.

  ‘All I have of value to give you, Old Narziel, is an offering of my hair.’

  Her voice crackled with emotion at the loss of her precious locks.

  Narziel ran a finger over the hair. ‘Such bonny hair! So scented and soft! The Wastelands is whispering again, and again it whispers yea!’

  He belched loudly in appreciation of the offering.

  ‘Now what of you? Accursed one from the Blue Planet — Bindisore? What can you offer to Old Narziel?’

  I hesitated. I had arrived in Eronth with only the clothes on my back. Rosedark had had to lend me several of her dresses. There was only one thing . . . I desperately tried to think of something else I could offer the toll-keeper but my mind drew a blank. There was only one thing for it. Despairingly, I pulled my dress up to my thighs and unfastened the silver garter that Artemis had bequeathed to me. Trying to feel detached and failing miserably, I handed it over to Narziel.

  ‘I have the magic garter given to me by the Goddess Artemis for protection. There is nothing else I have of value.’

  The old man’s empty sockets appeared to glisten as he fingered the garter.

  ‘Artemis, the Ancient Bear, the Wild Girl — she has given this? A fine treasure indeed, and one that still bears the Sacred One’s scent!’

  He held it to his nostrils and sniffed deeply, then groaned with deep satisfaction. Then he stopped, looked around in alarm, and bawled with dismay.

  ‘Aaahh! Old Narziel hears the Wastelands whisper nay! The garter must be given back!’ He flicked the garter at me and went into another peal of maniacal laughter. Relieved, I fastened the garter back onto my thigh while Narziel looked on with great interest. Then when the garter was securely fastened, he began jumping up and down with excitement. ‘The Wastelands decree that you can now enter!’

  On making that announcement he promptly vanished into thin air. I could not look at my companions in the silence that followed his departure. Khartyn had sacrificed her holy companion of many centuries. Rosedark had lost her beautiful hair, which was more than the crowning treasure of her beauty; every lock was sacred to the maid. And yet I, for some unknown reason, had been admitted toll free.

  ‘The Goddess is teaching me a lesson,’ Khartyn remarked with a smile as she read my thoughts. ‘Over time I have become too attached to my magical tools. The power rests in me, not in the athame! In truth I had lost sight of that fact!’

  Rosedark remained silent, her head bowed as the ilkamas moved on. Sensing she was clos
e to tears, I mentally sent light in support and commiseration to her. After some time the apprentice was able to join in light conversation with us. But the slight shadow in her beautiful large violet eyes was heartrending proof that the toll-keeper’s price had not been an easy payment for the young Faiaite.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  ‘Why did the toll-keeper call me Bindisore?’ I suddenly asked aloud. At the time I had no thought but to distract Rosedark’s mind from the loss of her hair. ‘And why, come to think of it, “accursed one” as well as Bindisore?’

  We had stopped for a break by an overgrown endi and were sharing esteo and nutbread while the ilkamas rested. Khartyn and Rosedark exchanged glances. There was a loaded pause.

  ‘Because of your heritage,’ Khartyn said.

  ‘What’s a Bindisore?’ I asked, suspicious of that look they had shared.

  ‘A Bindisore is an offspring of an eagle’s egg. Often the egg is a result of a forbidden union between Faiaite and Azephim. Azephim children are hatched in eggs and the germination period is very brief. Faiaite and Bluite women often die when the egg is being hatched from their bodies; their wombs sometimes cannot expel the egg. The large Eronth eagles in service often take over the hatching.’

  A slight trickle of fear ran down my back. A hidden whisper lurched within me.

  ‘Well, how can he call me a Bindisore when I have a human mother?’ I demanded.

  Khartyn surveyed the forbidding dark-grey horizon of the Wastelands where the Azephim turrets grew ever nearer.

  ‘How indeed?’ she murmured. ‘Unless of course your egg was hatched in Faia and you were carried by a Crossa into Earth, where, with the help of your selected Earth mother, you lived what appeared to be a normal life on the Blue Planet without conscious memory of your Bindisore beginnings.’

  ‘Like an alien abduction in reverse?’ I suggested, unsure of whether to feel amused or indignant.

  Khartyn continued to sip her esteo and her unblinking eyes regarded me coldly.

  ‘What if I told you that I was present at your hatching?’ she remarked calmly. ‘Or what if I let slip that one of our most valued Crossas, your Aunt Johanna, carried you to the Blue Planet where she empowered a thought pattern that became your mother and you lived happily ever after until the evil Queen of the story allowed her Solumbi to enter the Blue Planet and kill Johanna?’

  In a different world, in a different time, a different me would have roared with laughter at the thought of being hatched from a bird’s egg. Not to mention being carried lovingly to Earth by my dear Aunt Johanna, who just happened to be a respected Crossa of worlds and a powerful political agent for the Faiaites, instead of the eccentric artist aunt I had loved and related to so strongly as a child. However, the me who was listening to the fantastic tale that Khartyn was telling me was now ready to believe that anything and everything was possible. My rational mind was being shot to pieces as my higher mind pulsated and opened slowly. Nervously I patted Jabi’s mane to give myself time to think.

  ‘Why did Johanna not just bring me up herself?’ I asked, my familiar childhood fantasy breaking to the surface. ‘And why couldn’t I have grown up in Eronth? Also, why was Johanna regarded as such a threat to Sati that she set her Solumbi after her?’

  I shuddered with revulsion, remembering the odour and the claws of the beast that had attacked me.

  ‘If you had been brought up under Johanna’s guidance you might have awoken too quickly and madness would have been the result. We couldn’t take the risk. Johanna’s death was Sati’s way of attracting your attention. She wanted to lure you to cross.’

  ‘But why?’ I persisted. ‘Why would she possibly have any interest in me?’

  Khartyn smiled one of her enigmatic smiles. ‘No interest in you particularly. Sati’s main obsession is with that child you are carrying.’

  I flushed as I became aware that Khartyn and Rosedark were obviously fully aware of my Belthane escapade. An uncontrollable rush of longing for the Stag Man surged through my body. I felt a weird sense of shame sweep over me. The disturbing vision returned to me, of the Stag Man and myself, inside unfamiliar bodies, fire blazing from our wings. So much blood. Rain falling upon us, drops of burning silver rain, while we laughed and held each other. The sound of a child crying, dying slowly in pain.

  Khartyn unlaced one of her boots, wincing at the blisters that covered her feet. I watched as she took a jar of green healing cream from her bag and smeared it onto her feet. The blisters vanished instantly. Rosedark went behind some bushes to relieve herself. I felt excluded from their company, unbearably lonely, and terrified of what the future was going to bring. I placed my hand over my stomach. What sort of being had I conceived at Belthane? Was I going to be able to carry and deliver this child? I had never been a maternal person before, let alone a single mother in an alien world with a being that wasn’t even human! A feeling of horror flooded through me. A pulse beat in my head. Who am I really? What am I doing here? Who am I really? What am I doing here?

  Rosedark had returned, and she began packing up our lunch leftovers into Khartyn’s bag. I found my voice. ‘Please, Khartyn. I need to know something of what is going on here. Don’t you understand that it’s worse if I don’t know anything? My imagination is in overdrive!’ I attempted to smile, but I heard my voice break as tears threatened to flow. ‘I just don’t feel prepared to face this Sati and Ishran if I don’t know anything. Why are you keeping things from me? Please, can’t you tell me something? Anything?’ I was disgusted at myself for my begging tone, but I felt almost sick with worry and anxiety about what was ahead.

  Rosedark looked at Khartyn, who shrugged, and poured herself another cup of esteo.

  ‘Perhaps sometimes people are better left in ignorance,’ she said unsmilingly. ‘You have had so much revealed to you of late, and there is only so much a nervous system can stand. I don’t say this lightly. We have to be careful. I have seen many Crossas fall into the spirals of madness, their bodies and minds too frail to cope with what is happening.’ She paused, and seemed to be listening to an inner voice. ‘Very well, child. If you want some information so much, here is a little story for you. It began in another world, many Turns of the Wheel ago . . .’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  No words spoken can describe

  The angel’s home, that empty deadly space;

  Many who have crossed, have not returned.

  Yea, inside the stone men lives the memory on

  Of the abduction of Eom — the unholy night that split the worlds;

  The angoli Charmonzhla clenches tiny teeth

  Calling to the Ghormho for blood.

  Blood will cover every stone, the winged ones will destroy the worlds;

  Blessed — Blessed are you who escape the angoli’s killing eyes;

  May the Goddess give peace to the ones who did not return.

  — Condensed from the Tremite Book of Life, Column XIXCII

  ‘The Web was so named because it consisted of rays of light intermeshed like a spider’s web. It was rumoured that, like spiders, the Azephim used the strands of their home to trap foolhardy Crossas and also to communicate with other Dark Angels. Kondoell was the heartbeat of their country within the known worlds, the spindle from which they wove around themselves hundreds and thousands of the light rays. The rays became an extrasensory faculty for the Azephim, forming their outer eyes, ears, nose, voice and fingers. The angels spun the protective web themselves, from spinnerets, seven of which lay in tiny glands inside each chakra centre of the angel. The chakra, as we have already discussed, is an energy centre in the body, located in the physical and first energy layer of the aura. There are seven major chakras.

  ‘The Azephim, as one of the killing races in the known worlds, favoured using their spinnerets when subduing their prey. Their victims were enveloped in the deadly rays, rendering them dazed and helpless. Then the angels would drink the blood of their prey held fast in this prison of light. It w
ould take only minutes for an Azephim to feed, leaving behind only the sparrow of the victim. The sparrow is the soul of the being, imprisoned in the light rays until Hecate arrived to collect the trapped birds. The web killings had been outlawed by the Dreamers; even Seleza had attempted to outlaw the practice in Kondoell but it was whispered throughout the known worlds that the killing ritual still continued.

  ‘The few Crossas who had been fortunate or unfortunate enough to have witnessed the interior of the Web always returned filled with awe and horror. All foliage, all mountains and even the oceans of Kondoell were draped in the silver-white rays of web, creating a highly surreal effect. It was a world like a ghostly negative, where every whisper contained shadows and even the blood that was spilt would turn to grey. It was a world of fear, of silence, of whispered prayer and slow, white, painful death. Many legends grew in Eronth concerning the Web, and Eronthite children were threatened with banishment to the grim home of the Azephim. But for centuries, no-one had been foolhardy enough to cross.

  ‘Then the Nine Wizards altered the history of Eronth when they were reckless enough to use their magical powers to access the Web in their lust for the Eom. Nobody knows how the nine were able to access the light rays, although it was rumoured that light beings from the Heztarra Galaxy provided them with energy to transmute their light bodies and enter. However they achieved their entrance to the Azephim world, their arrival was not unexpected. Seleza, the High Priestess of the angels, was waiting. She must have watched them as they penetrated the deadly rays and saw the landscape that very few outsiders had seen. The ancient, white, cobbled stone streets. The boulevards, shining with light, lined with the white statues of fellow angels worshipped by the Azephim. In this pristine world, the odour of blood would have assaulted their senses, for at the heart of Kondoell lay Uluree, the killing centre, which had witnessed countless killings of innocents. Centuries of deaths had been held there for public enjoyment.

  ‘Ornate fountains and temples would have surrounded them, for the Azephim were great connoisseurs of bone architecture. The opaque streets would have been filled with angels, watching the Wizards in silence. They must have allowed the strangers to pass by unharmed, watching in silent amusement the fear in their eyes that threatened to burst into flower at the sight of this nightmare, twilight world.