A Fire in the Shell: Circle of Nine Trilogy 3

by Josephine Pennicott

  ‘Diomonna dead?’ Maya felt herself run through with a spear of shock and pain. After a lifetime in the Hollow Hills hating the beautiful, aristocratic queen, she had never expected to mourn her passing.

  ‘I’ll be surprised if Charon takes her,’ Khartyn said. ‘Imonim are slippery folk, even in death. The Wezom King is rumoured to have left the Hollow Hills to find a phoenix. Diomonna will be lucky if he doesn’t change his mind and decide to hunt the phoenix just to hang its head on his wall!’ Her laugh was short and crackly, like a dry leaf against a window.

  Maya watched the Crone with concern. She’s not all right. She is trying to give the impression she is holding up, but she’s cracking inside. The Crone’s cheeks were flushed pink like a maid’s and her eyes were overbright, as if she was holding back tears. There was something unnatural about the way she held her posture.

  ‘Don’t keep looking at me as if you’re fingering the gold coins in your pocket to put over my eyes!’ Khartyn snapped. ‘Let me be allowed the dignity of mourning my friends. Yes, even with all my occult knowledge I still mourn the passing of souls I have loved!’

  Maya felt herself flush. ‘Forgive me, Old Mother,’ she said, stung by the Crone’s sharp tongue. ‘May the Dreamers hold you tightly as you mourn.’ She bowed her head to the Webx and Crone and walked off, furious at herself for feeling tears spring to her eyes. Old bitch, she thought. I know what it is, she despises me because I have sprung from the Hollow Hills. I’m not pure like perfect Rosedark and my selfish, deceitful mother. How cursed can I be by King Pysphorrus’s hairy balls? A stinking Bluite didn’t want me, I wasn’t good enough for her. The Imomm despised me for being half Bluite and now the Eronthites look down on me for my Faery upbringing. I’ve given my child of the future away to the Underworld gods. Khartyn hates me and Diomonna is dead!’ She stopped her furious pacing and sat on a pretty white shell seat to give way to her emotions.

  Samma watched the downcast figure of Maya with concern in her dark eyes. ‘I think we have wounded her feelings,’ she said.

  ‘Let her slink off feeling sorry for herself, she needs to develop a stronger character,’ Khartyn said. ‘We will go through it one more time.’

  Gwyndion nodded, forgetting Maya as soon as she had gone. ‘Rozen and Tanzen will definitely be there?’ he said. ‘Your scrying was true?’

  Khartyn nodded. ‘They are there, but whether it is too late for them I do not know, you may have to prepare yourself for that. You will he able to follow my instructions regarding the Imomm?’ she repeated to Samma.

  Great diamonds of tears had formed in Samma’s eyes. ‘There is no other way?’ she asked softly.

  Khartyn shook her head, her eyes reflecting the anguish in her soul. ‘Would I ask it of you if there was?’ she said.

  Gwyndion reached for her heavily veined hand. He could sense the Crone’s grief. ‘You ask nothing I do not give willingly,’ he said. ‘I feel so much fear I will let you down! I am still a student in such matters.’

  ‘You are Oakdeer. You are Webx,’ Khartyn said. She pressed his hand to her cheek and sniffed it, delighting in the fresh woody odour. ‘You are the direct children of the first Ash and Elder tree, closer to Lepso and Amira than any being I know of. You are more than equal to the task. It just breaks my heart to have to send you. I wish a million times over I could go myself.’

  Gwyndion smiled, but tears of sap had begun to form in his eyes. Lost for words, he held his hand to his heart and dipped his head to the Crone. High overhead in the clouds, soft flakes of snow began to fall.

  Seated on her bench sobbing, it took Maya a moment to work out what the soft, cold flakes were that fell onto her hair and face, then she realised and she drew in her breath with excitement forgetting her tears. Snaer’s daughter Fine Snow had arrived. She tossed back her dark hair and held her hands up to the snowflakes to catch them. Someone was watching her. Turning her head sharply, she saw Claw standing next to a white water fountain. There was a strange expression in his eyes. Maya thought how handsome he looked, with his dark hair falling to his shoulders collecting snowflakes. Even so, the purple smudges under his brown eyes and two deep grooves running down the side of his face bore testament to the depth of his grief since Rosedark had been burnt. Maya knew Claw had felt a bond with the young apprentice. Not surprisingly, all the wizards had appeared smitten with the maid at different times. Not only was she exquisite, but forbidden fruit was always more tempting to men.

  ‘You look beautiful,’ Claw said.

  Maya blushed, looking up at him with her long black hair framing her face and the snowflakes settling over her green cloak. His simple sentence warmed her more than a wood fire, especially coming so soon after Khartyn’s harsh words. She stood up and moved towards him through the falling flakes, throwing all caution away. If she closed her eyes slightly, she could see flakes falling on her lashes. She took his hands and kissed them, then ran her tongue along his palm.

  ‘I will do anything for you,’ she said. ‘You can have me whenever you want, however you want. I am yours to use and discard. I will help you to forget the maid.’

  Claw’s dark eyes never left her face. ‘What of Bwani?’ he said.

  She moved her hand beneath his heavy black cloak and found the hardening area between his legs. ‘One man is not enough for me,’ she said. ‘I need and desire you both. I would have you both inside me at once if I could.’

  Claw glanced around the garden. The snow had begun to settle on the ground. The trees around them were silent. A deer appeared from nowhere, startling them before darting away. ‘Not here,’ he said. ‘It is too open.’

  ‘I don’t care who sees,’ Maya said. She pushed back her cloak and began unlacing her bodice with shaking hands.

  ‘No,’ Claw said. ‘I want to fuck you and take my time, somewhere less exposed.’

  Maya nodded. She took his claw hand and together they ran into the darker part of the woods. Reaching the shadow of a tree, he pushed her to the ground and began pulling her dress down, reaching for her breasts with his claws.

  ‘Use your claws inside me.’ Maya opened her legs. ‘I’m not afraid. I want the pain.’ He obeyed.

  When it was over, they lay together, snow melting on their bodies. Maya winced as she sat up. She was still bleeding from his claws and there were bruises and scratches over her body she would have trouble explaining. A memory of the Crone’s milky, cold eyes came to her and she shivered. She knows, she thought. Claw was helping her to dress, picking leaves out of her hair. His face looked lighter than when she had first spotted him.

  The deer they had sighted earlier had reappeared and was watching them curiously with large mauve eyes. Maya had to fight the thought that the deer was a shape-changer, judging her for what she had done. Shame swept through her body when she thought of Bwani and the love in his eyes when he looked at her. Sensing her mood, Claw began fastening his belt around his trousers, looking around him as if fearing Bwani was going to appear at any second.

  ‘Too late for guilt,’ he said. ‘At least be honest to your own heart.’

  Maya considered this, nausea holding her by the throat. She despised herself for betraying Bwani and she no longer knew what her true feelings were when it came to the two men. She had felt attracted to Claw from the first moment she had seen him and had often fantasised about him when she and Bwani were making love. She had fallen in love with his romantic, poetical side. Now, however, having finally given her body to him, she disliked the proprietary way he looked at her.

  ‘I was upset,’ she said. Colour flared in her white cheeks and she took a step backwards from him. ‘The Crone had just given me news that the Queen of the Imomm had died. I should never have done what I did with you.’

  Claw looked at her. Snow continued to fall around them. At any other time Maya would have found the scene enchanting, but for now she was too caught up in the immediate drama. She heard a noise behind her in the bush and she wheeled around, eyes wary f
or wolves. Although Solumbi and bears were likely to be sleeping in Snaer’s season, the howling of wolves had increased in recent times and Maya had often heard them when she was lying in bed next to Bwani.

  ‘I am glad that I was of service to you then in your grief,’ Claw said, his mouth twisting awkwardly. ‘Remember, it was you who made the first move towards me. I am not one of the wizards who take women whenever they lift their skirts to them. I have long harboured feelings for you. I do not regret what has taken place here today, but I can see we do not share these sentiments. You seemed to want me as much as I wanted you.’

  Misery swept through Maya’s body, and she could not tell whether the pain was hers or Claw’s. Suddenly he seemed different with his face twisted in emotion, and his huge claws that only moments before had rested so lovingly on her body, The thought went through her mind that she was totally isolated in this winter landscape with him. If he should choose to . . .

  He was looking at her shocked, and Maya realised that he could read her mind. ‘How could you believe such a thing of me?’ he said. ‘Did you not feel anything when I was inside you? Or was it just curiosity? What does it feel like to fuck a man with claws instead of hands?’ He mimicked her voice: ‘Put them inside me, Claw! Sweet Goddess, you’re no better than the tarts that run panting in the name of Aphrodite, willing to wet their lips for one and all. I thought what we shared meant something, but instead of admitting your feelings for me, you turn on me!’ His voice had risen. Making a disgusted gesture, he walked away.

  Maya watched him walking farther into the woods, where snow and ice were beginning to form living sculptures. The world fell about her in white melting flakes.

  Darkness. The occupants of Shellhome slept, Morpheus and Hypnos visiting them stealthily, like determined thieves, hoarding greedily all the treasures they could retrieve from the minds of the oblivious dreamers. Most of the servers had fled, some to find work in the city of New Baffin, others escaping into the woods to lie in a mess of confused metal besides families of wolves and shy packs of meerwogs who hid from the Eronthites in their cool, leafy wilderness. Darkness passed over the assorted bodies of Shellhome as they lay sprawled in various positions in their beds. Some lay on their backs, mouths open. Others on their side as if attempting to crawl away from the darkness. Some, like Maya and Bwani, lay side by side, etheric cords binding them to each other in the darkness. The house, the world, vanished into the breath of night. Shadows watched and waited. The night was free to claim its territory, to dance its ancient silent dance. Darkness. Then movement, a ripple of energy.

  Three beings were awake. They crept along the corridors of Shellhome, pausing every now and again to ensure they moved with the utmost stealth. The shadows waited, hunched near, curious to know but terrified of the intruders who shared their space. One they could see clearly was Khartyn. Her long white hair hung to her knees, and her bones creaked as she walked, her face shrunken in the gloomy light of the silent corridors. She held something in her hands, which she passed to one of the other two beings. They were Webx, the shadows could smell their deep earth smell of resin, the crisp sharp longing of pain that flooded out from them, their never-ending desire for earth, ocean, for air and sky. The soft rustling of their leaves pierced the emptiness of the hall. Mice and ergom pushed their way through the walls to watch the slow progression with glinting eyes.

  ‘Don’t forget!’ the Crone’s whisper scratched the walls, so softly the shadows strained to hear. ‘Don’t linger in the dungeons. If they are beyond help, then move quickly.’

  The Webx sighed, and in the sigh was a dark knowledge older than the stars. They turned and slowly made the Webx threefold gesture to the Crone, the scent of pine and cypress filling the darkened hallway.

  ‘Go,’ the Crone said, her voice breaking. ‘May the darkness give you light and be merciful and the Dreamers sleep on in peace. I will never forget you.’

  The male Webx held the small parcel she had given him against his chest. ‘If she misses it?’ he asked. His voice was smooth with fear. His feet crackled with dying brown leaves.

  The Crone glanced in the direction of the room where the sleeping Maya lay. ‘She will have plenty to occupy herself with, she will not notice that I stole it from her room, her head is too filled with men to know or care.’ Khartyn’s mouth twisted in pain. ‘I am not worthy to send you on this quest, but I will honour the Webx for the rest of my days through the words of the layscops and the scribe’s writings.’

  They moved towards each other, and the shadows dared to creep as close as they could. The emotions the three were sharing were so thick it was difficult to establish who was the one that cried.

  The Crone stood back and watched the two Webx. Their bodies, outlined with twigs and leaves, made bizarre spectral shadows on the walls as they left the darkness of the corridor for the chill of the night, where Khartyn had marked a magical pentagram. Thus quietly, in the breath of the night, two legends became heroes. Many great journeys have begun that way with only the shadows, the silence of night and the cold to witness.

  The Snake Crone will come when you invoke her, Khartyn had assured them. She had stood silently, watching them disappear and become shadows. But the Webx did not have to invoke the Snake Crone. She was already waiting for them, in the centre of the pentagram.

  How could I have ever believed it would be otherwise? Gwyndion thought. At the back of his mind he had sensed that his travels to this world of vivid contrasts would culminate in this moment. But now it was so near, the sacrifice demanded of him seemed too much to bear. He was no longer sure the lives of Tanzen and Rozen were worthy of him having to put Samma and himself into this position. His dreams, his alternative lifetimes whispered to him seductively as he stared at the Snake Crone in front of him. Pick me! Choose me! Not too late! It was more agonising than when he had to select the golden fish suckling on Shambzhla’s breasts to retrieve Mary’s tongue.

  The Snake Crone smiled. She was a more formidable sight than Gwyndion remembered. Her skin was covered in scales of glimmering orange, pink, brown and gold. Her eyes in her black face were yellow-brown. An aura of red flame hovered about her. Around her waist hung a wide black belt with many pouches. It took a few moments for the Webx to realise the belt was a living black python from which the pouches dangled. Her head was bald, but tattooed on her skull were the scales of a snake. Her large mouth was open, exposing six rows of needle-sharp teeth that curved inwards. She was a creature of the night, a daughter of forgotten time.

  The Webx became aware that other beings waited around the pentagram. The Stag Man of Eronth stood watching the Webx silently. On his head gleamed his antlers, broken, chipped and scarred in places but still magnificent in their gleaming luminosity. Even the moons seemed to hold their breath at the savage beauty and the power rippling through him. Gwyndion’s leaves rustled at the sight of this mythologised being who watched him with his great brown eyes that flashed to vivid gold. He had the body of a man and tonight he was naked, uncaring of the freezing cold, but Gwyndion knew that often he had the body of a wild stag and he ran through the skies and forests of all the known worlds, cloaked in his animal form.

  Other figures stood behind the Stag Man. Goddesses. Now Samma and Gwyndion’s leaves were rustling. He felt a river of molten fire run up his back. The goddesses were grouped together, hidden by the night, but there was no mistaking their odour. Their bodies formed from endless prayers and invocations over time, from screams of despair and the hot panting collapse of love’s climax. From incense and from paint, from feathers and from bone. The hot desperate need of allkind draped over them, forming their skin. They had wrapped themselves in night to shield themselves from his view, but flashes came to his mind: keys, shiny and gleaming around Hecate’s waist; a young maiden who became a wizened crone and in a vivid burst, her three heads formed of lion, dog and mare; the musky scent from Aphrodite and the throb of the ocean; Artemis and the white gleam of her multi breasts, th
e odour and the claws of bears hanging from her; Demeter, with her hair the golden warmth of corn and the heavy tang of grief for her daughter, Persephone of the Underground. There was Brighid with the glossy whiteness of swan feathers; Epona, with her great horse’s eye and her raven familiar. All these things he saw in a matter of a breath.

  With shock he recognised three Solumbi standing silently watching to one side, obviously there with leave from the goddesses. A thousand questions formed in his mind and heart but there was no time to ask them. The wind carried a blessing to him, he watched as the Snake Crone reached her scaled hands towards the two Webx in invitation.

  ‘Now,’ she said in the voice of reptiles.

  ‘Now, now, now,’ echoed the wind. A great light shimmered over the assembly.

  The Stag Man stepped forward, and the Webxs’ attention was transfixed on him. He held a goud which he shook, scattering ash. His eyes looked deeply into Gwyndion’s.

  I am afraid for Samma. I am afraid of pain. Our race must continue. The words were pulled from Gwyndion’s mind, becoming fire.

  The Stag Man nodded. Then he spoke, in the voice of dreams and smoke. ‘You are the children of A and E. You belong together. I am with you always until the end of time and the Dreamers awake. For before the Dreamers slept, I was.’

  Before they slept, he was. The wind echoed in Gwyndion’s heart. Then the Stag Man prostrated himself before Gwyndion and Samma. Half kneeling, and making the threefold Webx gesture, he touched his heart, third eye and throat. Then Gwyndion looked at Samma, and knew.

  The Snake Crone uttered the same mantra she had used previously on the island of Zeglanada. Gwyndion and Samma instantly slumped into a deep death-sleep. She meditated on the bodies, placing around them an enormous pyramid made of light from her mind. Its four sides aligned to the four cardinal points of Eronth. From one of the many bags she wore around her waist, she took out a small jewelled shell. The pyramid settled itself carefully over the oblivious Webx. The Snake Crone blew a single, shattering note into the shell and the pyramid lifted off from the ground.