Circle of Nine: Circle of Nine Trilogy 1

by Josephine Pennicott

  ‘We will reach the castle by mid morn,’ she declared, ‘and we need to be fully rested and alert before we meet with Sati and Ishran.’

  I heard her words as if in a dream. I had no desire to meet with Sati. I realised I had begun to distrust Khartyn’s motives in taking me to consult with the couple. I began to seriously think about escaping from her. I had no desire to expose my unborn child to danger, and I sensed danger was eagerly anticipating our arrival in the forbidding towers of the dark castle looming ahead of us.

  Suddenly terrified that Khartyn would read my mind, I busied myself with grooming Jabi, concentrating only on his breathing and the rhythmic stroke of the brush against his flanks. Then, happy to put a short distance between myself and the Crone, I searched for small pieces of wood with Rosedark for a camp fire.

  ‘Are you worried about meeting with Ishran and Sati?’ Rosedark asked as we worked together at breaking larger twigs down.

  ‘Yes,’ I admitted, feeling honesty was the best form of defence.

  ‘And I too!’ Rosedark avoided my eyes. ‘I’ve not heard of anyone able to penetrate their castle before. I feel very afraid, Emma.’

  ‘Why are you doing it then?’ I asked bluntly. ‘I know you’re the Crone’s apprentice and she’s incredibly powerful and everything, but wouldn’t she understand if you refused to go?’

  Rosedark stared at me, shocked, with her beautiful childlike eyes.

  ‘I’m doing it for you, Emma!’ she exclaimed. ‘Because I love and honour you! Anyway,’ she admitted, ‘Khartyn would sharp-tongue me if I refused to journey with you.’

  Saddened, I gathered my small bundle of twigs.

  That’s it, I vowed to myself, I’m out of here tonight.

  There was no way I could justify putting Rosedark at risk as well.

  *

  Dinner that night was an exotic stew of mushrooms and nuts. The three of us were subdued and spoke little as we ate. The incredible realisation of the imminent confrontation silenced all superfluous conversation.

  Later, under the night sky, coiled up on my small gold rug, I lay listening to the snorts of the ilkamas and watched the stars move across the sky. I was practising making my mind a blank. I lay for what seemed like decades, refusing to give into the temptation to sleep my misery away. Rosedark had fallen asleep instantly, as she always did, curled up like a child beside me, gently snoring.

  The Crone had spent hours protecting us with her magical circle ritual and I had feared that she would be up all night, preparing for the onslaught against the Azephim. But with relief I finally heard the deep breathing of her sleep from the blanket where she lay. After another interminable wait, I cautiously stood up. I was still dressed in my clothes of the day for warmth against the chill of the earth, and so all I had to do was pull my boots on quickly. Terrified that Khartyn would wake up, I tiptoed away from the sleeping bodies. Then I hit some kind of invisible barrier, and sprang back in pain and surprise. Tears of frustration sprang to my eyes at being foiled so easily. Not only did Khartyn’s protective circle prevent unwanted intruders from entering our space, it also effectively prevented the occupants of the circle from leaving! Desperately I pushed against it, but the thought pattern held strong. Physically I could get nowhere by pushing against it. It was equal to pushing against a solid concrete wall. Then with a force I had not been aware that I possessed, I began to mentally pit my strength against the barrier. To my delight, I felt the barrier shift a little. Sweat broke out on my face as I pushed harder and harder. My mind appeared to shift into another gear, another dimension. It was literally as if a door had opened in my mind. Then I was through.

  I began to run madly into the night, ecstatic and panicked by my sudden freedom. I ran right into the delighted arms of a small pack of silent, patient Solumbi. I screamed. They circled me hungrily as I looked on with helpless horror. It was Rosedark who awoke to my screams and ran out of the circle to my assistance. The Crone was far away from her physical body; relocated in the recesses of the Shell, she was unable to hear the screams. It was Rosedark whom the starving Solumbi turned on greedily, unable to penetrate me while I wore Artemis’ garter. Rosedark had no such protection and the ravenous beasts lunged at the vulnerable apprentice’s throat, ripping the soft flesh to pieces and feeding on her blood with disgusting relish.

  Screaming for the Crone, I ran back inside the circle and shook her urgently until I saw her spirit reanimate her form. Khartyn quickly grasped the situation; I didn’t have to utter a word. She ran from the circle with enormous bands of light emanating from her hands, and I followed her, terrified and shocked. Nausea gripped my entire being when I saw the jerking, dying body of the apprentice in the arms of the hairy, beast-like Solumbi.

  Khartyn, with the light streaming from her hands, drew a gigantic pentacle into the night sky which illuminated the entirety of the Wastelands. It was now as if we were in broad daylight.

  ‘All evil is turned back!’ she screamed, causing an enormous earth tremor to split the land beneath us. Unbelievingly, I watched as thousands of tiny animals and beings ran from where we stood. Even the great beasts hungrily chewing on Rosedark dropped their morsels and, snarling, crawled away. The Crone ran to the bloody body of her apprentice.

  ‘She’s gone!’ she sobbed in an unearthly agonised cry. In the background behind me, I could feel Hecate’s presence waiting to enter. A huge scream of agony rose within me as Khartyn lovingly rocked the torn body of her apprentice back and forth. The once-beautiful golden hair was now soaked with gore.

  Then the impossible happened. From its nest of grief and sadness, loneliness and pain, a small sparrow flew from my chest. I felt no pain as it exited and flew to the broken body of Rosedark. It began to sing a song so sacred and so holy that I forgot all my pain and grief over Rosedark’s death. I forgot all my confusion and anger about my identity, my fears about the Wastelands and my role in meeting with the Dark Angels. All that I knew with the sparrow’s hymn was Beauty.

  I saw, with crystal clarity, the beauty in all things. The meaning of the seemingly insignificant, the holiness of every cell of life, the light that existed within all; all these things were laid before me. The glory of the life that appeared so mundane radiated in all directions. It was like the song of the Shell that could form words and breathe creativity. Khartyn, too, was entranced by the sparrow’s song. Unashamed tears of joy fell from her eyes and in those poignant fleeting moments of the sparrow’s song she became the young girl that forever dwelt within the Crone. Magically, Rosedark opened her eyes to hear the song of the bird that lured her from the arms of Hecate, whose rage could be plainly heard. Undaunted by death itself, the sparrow sang on.

  When the colour had returned to Rosedark’s cheeks and her ravaged throat had miraculously healed, the sparrow circled her auric body once more and flew quickly back into my chest. I could feel the heat of the bird’s body as it dived back into my heart. Half-crying, half-laughing, Khartyn pulled Rosedark to her feet.

  ‘Hecate won’t speak to me for a while!’ she laughed, hugging her apprentice. ‘She has been cheated of a sweet prize indeed! And I have you back with me, my beloved daughter. Thank you, Goddess!

  ‘Nay,’ she added, correcting herself, ‘thank Emma. For tonight she gave her soul to you.’

  *

  Camouflaged in her bird form, Sati’s dark eyes glinted as she watched closely from an overhead tree. Never before had she seen a Crossa release their sparrow voluntarily and still live. Her breath came in quickened pants through her beak. The Crossa was regaining more power than Sati had envisaged; thanks to the Crone’s influence she was awakening daily. She had wasted no time in opening her legs to the Stag Man and now she carried within her his foul seed. Tomorrow they would reach the castle and demand an audience with the Azephim Lord.

  They had underestimated Emma, she realised, recalling with distaste the moment when the Crossa had let her soul free to awaken the dead apprentice. Destroying her was not goin
g to be as easy as she had anticipated. Jealousy reared within Sati’s belly, its thick green body threatening to overwhelm her with nausea. It was unfathomable to her that the Crossa had so effortlessly secured the seed that the Horned One had shot within her. Sati had lost count of the number of Crones that she had summoned to the castle for guidance on how to conceive Ishran’s precious black seed. The magical elixirs they had prescribed she had drunk eagerly enduring the foul tastes of the hags’ brews. When they had not worked, she had rubbed the fertility oils over her distressingly flat stomach three times daily for endless Turns of the Wheel. She had even resorted to dancing naked in the Circle of the Blessed Nine, rubbing her body over the Bwani stone in a pathetic, futile hope that her wish would be granted. Sati still hissed with anger when she remembered the vile practices that the senile Crones had prescribed. Their ancient bodies now lined her dungeon walls, a grotesque, bony reminder in the room as a warning to all false soothsayers.

  Perhaps Khartyn would have been able to prescribe the remedy to produce the miracle, but Sati feared that Khartyn would tell her that her womb was barren, unable to contain the black seed of the angel. Rather, all of Sati’s hopes pointed to the Eom. From her dreams she had surmised that if the Eom was reactivated there would be life inside her womb. Ishran had recounted many tales from his childhood in the Web and Sati had realised there was no limit to the power of Eom. Her wing stretched awkwardly to touch her belly lightly and she uttered a silent prayer — a prayer that Eom energy would enter her and bring her cold womb back into hot life.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Their voices calling

  Form flakes of ice,

  Form shadows dark

  Crying to their lost homes.

  To the worlds that now shun them

  Shadows come from Light,

  Shadows come from Light.

  — Extract from ‘Cry of the Angel’, Eronth song

  With the first break of the new day we were within touching distance of the Azephim castle. I shuddered at the vibration that emanated from the Gothic-style building. Encased inside the formidable spectacle of the angels’ home was the enigmatic race known as the Azephim. I felt revulsion breaking over my body at our proximity to their nest.

  We were fools to come so near!

  A terrifying sensation of vertigo gripped me as I received an image of being chained to the Eom, reduced to a living battery for the Azephim. I felt the heat of the Eom sustaining me in an endless existence of merciless void. I sensed Khartyn sending me healing energy to help me with the instinctive waves of panic that were threatening to paralyse me. Every stone of the castle mocked me for daring to enter the angels’ lair, every draught of chill air breathed Sati’s displeasure that we had ventured so near.

  Yes, Sati is near and knows full well we have arrived.

  The castle of the Azephim was an overwhelmingly sinister sight. Four towers pointed to a tumultuous sky like four lethal needles in the air. From the tip of each dark needle fluttered a red banner with an occult symbol on it. What looked to be human figures were impaled in a grotesque pile on one of the needles, food for hovering flocks of carrion birds. Surely they couldn’t be real bodies, I tried to reassure myself against all probability.

  I focused instead on the ornate stained-glass windows that flashed seductive colours to us. The neighbouring countryside was like an eerie lunar landscape; no vegetation grew anywhere near the Azephim lair. It was a nightmare scene, and misshapen trees appeared to mock our folly in approaching so near to the castle of death, while the distant mountains that lay to the perimeter of the castle appeared cruel and lacking in compassion as they protected the angels they surrounded.

  A small contingent of angel guards patrolled the lower floor of the castle. I could sense Khartyn’s and Rosedark’s interest in my reaction to the Azephim. They were, after all, half my bloodline, and I fought to control my panic from their scrutiny as I in turn studied them. They were a tall race of beings and in some respects resembled the traditional Earth view of angels. An aura of great charisma and beauty revolved about them, but their wings were ebony-black and their hair was long and dark and tangled. Their faces were a synthesis of bird and angel. The majority of Azephim guards wore black leather trousers with overskirts that looked to be made from skin. Many had bone jewellery decorating their ears and wrists. There were a few who were naked, save for a thong around their genitals made of leather and fur. These guards had their bare chests covered in scars which they displayed proudly. They snarled at me as I looked at them, and I hastily averted my eyes.

  Rosedark was also staring with fascinated horror at the winged beings that had been the focus of many lurid imaginings in Faia. She had never been so close to one in all her life.

  ‘Merry meet!’ Khartyn called to a guard angel who stared indifferently through her. ‘We have travelled from the land of the Triple Moons to beg an audience with Ishran and Sati. I am Khartyn, Crone and ex-teacher of Sati, this maid is Rosedark my student, and the Crossa is Emma, kin to Sati.’

  The angel smiled, revealing sharp filed teeth and a forked tongue.

  ‘My master expects you,’ he hissed.

  Indicating we should follow him. we were granted access into the castle. Upon first entering the coolness of the stone interior I was struck by the opulence of the furnishings. Exotic brocades and tapestries covered the walls. Extravagant candelabras illuminated the dark hallways. Black crystal chandeliers blazed with hundreds of patchouli-scented candles. Adorning the walls were paintings, many of them unmistakably Azephim family portraits, which stared silently and malevolently out at us, their painted eyes not subduing the rage lurking within this deadly race. Black and plum wax fruit were heaped in profusion on delicately carved wooden furniture. Black marble statues, many in erotic poses, lined the corridors, and underlying all the opulence and the wealth the sweet jasmine odour of death floated. Roses were everywhere in every direction that I looked, sweet-smelling roses placed in vases, or scattered about.

  The furniture hissed silently: be warned! You are doomed!

  At the end of the corridor that smelt sweetly of death, two angels waited to open the green leather doors to us. The room we tentatively entered was obviously a study, with thousands of books lining the interior, and framed maps of the known worlds displayed on the walls. More candles blazed in their candelabras, and a small dish of dried red rose petals emitted a pungent, floral odour that was strangely familiar to me.

  Then I stopped dead in my tracks. Two figures were waiting silently in a corner of the room. Bathed in light from one of the many stained-glass windows illuminating the study, they had either suddenly materialised or else the incredible furnishings of the room had drawn my attention from their presence. At their feet a black cheetah looked at us with contempt. They were a strikingly beautiful couple, so similar to look at they appeared to have been chiselled from the same exquisite dark marble. Their long dark hair fell in an identical fashion to their waist, their eyes burned with life and vitality. They were dressed in red. Sati wore a heavy red satin gown that fell to the floor in folds. Ishran’s red cloak covered his grey satin trousers. Under the cloak his huge dark wings were camouflaged, disguising the major difference between us. I felt a wave of nausea pass through me as his coal-dark eyes probed my face. He smiled.

  ‘So this is the little relative come to visit? What a disappointment, eh, Sati?’

  I saw Rosedark shiver at the venom in his voice but I held my ground. I suppressed waves of revulsion that swept through me at the posturing couple. The Glamour they had used upon themselves and the sweet sickliness of the furnishings of the castle nauseated me when I reminded myself of the violent deaths they had visited upon Johanna and more recently Rosedark.

  ‘No more a disappointment than you are to me, brother-in-law,’ I remarked mildly.

  Sati’s eyes narrowed. ‘I am overcome that you have made the long and exhausting trek into the Wastelands to find us. Very few Eronthites take the tro
uble these days. It is so nice to look upon the face of my sister.’

  She laughed, and her laughter held jagged ice. I could feel cold beginning to numb my bones.

  ‘Don’t look directly at her!’ Khartyn instructed.

  Sati’s head swivelled swiftly to gaze upon Khartyn. She sighed. ‘Old Mother, I have been expecting you for a long time, but you never wanted to make the journey. Why now have you bothered? By the claws of Alecom, I warrant that your business must be important for you to put yourself out. You have scarcely bothered with me before!’

  She yawned, and then, lifting up her hand, a white rose materialised in it, which she sniffed. ‘I see that it took you little time to replace me, but what an inferior specimen you selected!’ Her gaze openly mocked Rosedark, who stood in front of Khartyn to protect her. ‘How touching!’ she added.

  Ishran glanced at me and snarled. ‘The smell of her both revolts and excites me,’ he told Sati, nodding toward me. ‘I can smell her hot, warm blood. Should we let her die slowly or quickly? What does my love want?’ She held the rose out to him, tickling his face with it. Petals dropped onto the head of the cheetah, which growled its displeasure, earning a kick in the ribs from Sati. The air became colder around me.

  ‘Ishran,’ she said in a soft voice filled with hunger. ‘You forget the social niceties. This piece of human garbage that stands in front of us is my own sister!’

  He ran his tongue over his lips, and leaned forward toward me. His wings rustled slightly. ‘Will she feel like you when I thrust inside her?’ he mused.

  I heard a sound like a bell inside me. Cobwebs of fear were beginning to wind slowly around my mind. These two were toying with us, and were any of us strong enough to fight them?

  Sati was playing with her long hair with a pale hand. ‘There,’ she murmured. ‘I was so touched by your visit, so long overdue, that I forgot to ask my beloved sister what news she brings with her from Earth?’