Burying the Shadow

by Storm Constantine

  We could not speak. I felt tears gather in my eyes. Did Beth really see a parallel between himself and Mikha’il? Standing there, I had to admit there were similarities.

  Beth broke the silence. ‘Is he grieving still, do you suppose?’ he asked.

  I did not bother to answer the question; it was impossible to conjecture. ‘I think we should speak to Sandalphon,’ I said. ‘He is wise, and kind. We must speak to somebody!’

  Beth did not look at me. He dropped my hand. ‘I will speak to the only person who can advise me,’ he said. ‘Sandalphon cannot possibly understand this situation.’

  He put his hand upon the leg of the statue, in the place where the thigh was bared. He stroked the stone. Mikha’il’s ferocity is contained, and therefore more devastating. He has a sword in his hand and above the heart his armour is pierced. He is wounded there, above the heart.

  Light as a cat, Beth leapt up onto the statue’s plinth. ‘What are you doing?’ I hissed, looking round to see if anyone else was in the hall. ‘Get down!’

  Beth ignored me. He climbed the statue and balanced on the stone armour. He put his arms around Mikha’il, and lifted his head to the unsmiling lips. ‘Don’t Beth, don’t!’ I tugged at his clothes, but it was no use. He kissed the statue on the mouth. I was transfixed, unsure of whether what I was witnessing was heresy, invocation, madness or blessing. Beth rested his head on Mikha’il’s shoulder. I think he was weeping.

  We were torn apart. I was at one end of the world, he at the other. So distant. He did not look upon this as our problem, but his problem alone. He did not want me to be part of it.

  There was a movement behind me. I knew who it was without having to turn round and confirm my suspicions with my eyes. I knew now that I would recognise his presence on a spiritual level, forever. ‘Avirzah’e you are evil,’ I said. ‘Evil and stupid!’

  ‘Cruel words,’ he said affably. I turned round, then. He was looking at the statue, smiling gently. There was no malice in his face, but his eyes were bright and feverish.

  ‘You cannot understand,’ he said. ‘If you were sensible, you would join with us, but you are not. You are Metatron’s creature and simply that. It is a shame, but...’

  Overcome by rage, and other more complex feelings, I spat in his face.

  Avirzah’e merely flinched. ‘You have no idea of the strength of my regard for you,’ he said. ‘It has always been there. Beth is a beauty; a watery spirit, while you are earth and fire and air combined. I have always been drawn to you both; always, knowing that the following of that call was dangerous, and that its consummation would invoke unprecedented wonders. I think you have known this too, but Metatron has disciplined you too well.’ He looked at me. ‘I cannot help you, Gimel, and for that, I am sorry.’

  His words were like strong hands around my throat; I could not speak and could hardly breathe. I could only stand there, stripped of my powers. I could only stand there as he walked past me to the foot of the statue and said, ‘Beth, come down, I will take you home.’

  Beth looked at him. ‘I can get home by myself,’ he said.

  Avirzah’e shook his head. ‘No, you misunderstand me. I am taking you to my home.’ He held out his hand and, after a moment’s consideration, Beth jumped down, although he avoided Avirzah’e’s waiting arms.

  ‘Beth, don’t go with him!’ I said.

  ‘We have things to do,’ Avirzah’e said reasonably. ‘Eloim power must be rekindled. If no-one else is strong enough to take responsibility, I will do so myself.’ He looked at Beth whose face, in those moments, was uncannily similar in expression and appearance to the statue’s. Beth closed his eyes painfully and nodded.

  I felt completely bloodless. Avirzah’e had beaten me, or had I defeated myself? ‘Beth, why did you kiss Mikha’il?’ I asked. ‘You clearly do not intend to follow his path.’

  Beth sighed. ‘Some would say that a long time ago, Mikha’il himself took the wrong turning.’ He took my hands in his own. ‘Do not judge me, sister. I have to account for my actions, impulsive or not. I have to do what is ordained. There is no choice.’ He kissed me on the lips, very briefly. ‘Do you love me?’

  I looked at him steadily. ‘You know I do - in all but one way, which, as an eloim - and a creature of good sense - I have forsaken. You are contemplating folly, Beth, you are risking ruin.’

  He nodded. ‘I understand how you feel about this,’ he said. ‘But I cannot agree with you. Do not worry for me.’

  ‘You are welcome to join us,’ Avirzah’e said. I dared not look at him.

  ‘No,’ I said, and turned to face the statue, until I was sure they had left the Hall. I stared at the wound on Mikha’il’s breast, which some say will never heal. On Earth, eloim had individuated. We lived in isolation, but it was a condition with which we had become familiar. Once, it had not been so. Beth was right. Sandalphon was not the person to talk to. I knew, in my heart, who was.

  Section Two

  Gimel

  ‘… but his face deep scars of thunder had entrenched, and care sat on his faded cheek, but under brows of dauntless courage…’

  Paradise Lost, Book I

  Sandalphon came to our house just after dawn the next morning, but I was ready for him. In fact, I hadn’t slept. After returning home, I had conducted Tamaris’ rejuvenation and checked Ramiz over for signs of degeneration. Satisfied that my household was in order, I bathed myself and projected my consciousness out into Khalt to check on proceedings. All seemed to be progressing steadily, although I was slightly disturbed by the fact that Rayojini seemed more difficult to make contact with than usual. Perhaps Amelakiveh’s proximity to her was affecting our link. Beth, of course, did not come home. I shut him out of my mind.

  When Sandalphon presented himself, I was sitting composed in my salon, and Tamaris was in the process of blending a light breakfast. I had never seen the Sarim so stern, but I was sure there was a galloping frailty beneath his exterior. Sandalphon was not a person to deal happily with issues of conflict. Sometimes, I questioned why Metatron had chosen him to be his deputy.

  ‘I am disappointed you did not want to talk to me last night,’ he said.

  I smiled. ‘Do I take it, then, you are not here to discuss your opera?’

  Sandalphon made an exasperated noise and sat down without asking my permission to. ‘You do realise what we witnessed last night, don’t you?’ he said. ‘The Tartaruch and Beth... Gimel, they were beginning to conjoin. Such is the way that monsters were conceived, at one time.’

  He was, of course, referring to the Harkasites who were all, but for Metatron, composite beings, creatures composed of multiple eloim souls. They had been that way so long, it was doubtful they could separate now. The fact that Sandalphon referred only to the creation of monsters was also evidence of the unnatural aversion to conjunction that had been imprinted into eloim society. He seemed to have forgotten that its essential purpose was the purest, most ethereal expression of love.

  ‘Avirzah’e has developed quite an insistent longing for my brother,’ I said. ‘He means no harm. He is just unsure of how to satisfy himself.’

  ‘The longing, if it can be called that, is not just for Beth,’ Sandalphon said, eyeing me grimly. ‘What is going on between you three? I am sure Metatron would disapprove strongly, whatever it is!’

  I signalled discreetly to Tamaris, who had been hiding behind a curtain covering the entrance to an adjoining room. She brought in the breakfast immediately, forcing Sandalphon to collect himself.

  ‘Have you mentioned this matter to anyone?’ I asked.

  He shook his head emphatically. ‘Of course not! I would not speak of this to anyone until after I’d seen you, but naturally, the Parzupheim will have to be informed very soon.’

  ‘Mmm.’ I tapped my lips and then leaned forward. ‘Might I speak to you in utter confidence, Sandalphon?’

  ‘I would be grateful if you would speak at all, Gimel!’

  ‘Let’s just say that
what you witnessed last night was simply a development of a process that has been evolving for quite some time. Metatron is quite aware of what is happening.’ I kept my voice low and steady, anticipating his outburst.

  ‘Metatron has made no mention of it to me!’

  I nodded slowly, letting my eyes glaze as if I was deep in thought. ‘Mmm. Perhaps I should elucidate further. Beth and I conceived a strategy with Metatron; Avirzah’e is a component of it. More than that, I am not at liberty to disclose, without Metatron’s express permission, because the proposal is bold and audacious. However, if it is allowed to proceed as we have designed, it might be the answer to all our problems.... Last night, the Tartaruch prince became a little too... presumptive, I suppose. It was an accident. Avirzah’e’s enthusiasms do tend to run away with him in their jaws, you must admit!’ I smiled wryly, but Sandalphon would have none of it.

  ‘Metatron would devise no stratagems that involve the Tartaruchis!’ he declared darkly.

  I nodded in agreement. ‘I know it seems hard to believe! However, think about this: if Metatron was involving the Tartaruch in his plans, he would be very reluctant to tell you of them, wouldn’t he? He knows the Sarim view of Tartaruchi.’ I reclined against my sofa, and delivered the final thrust of the needle to his heart. ‘Wouldn’t you agree?’

  Sandalphon considered my words. ‘Is this true?’ He shook his head. ‘Metatron has never kept information from me before.’

  ‘I assure you; it is quite true.’ As I spoke, I wondered myself why I was taking this deception so far, why I was hurting this lovely, gentle soul, whom Metatron trusted above all others. I was poisoning their relationship with my words. Why was I doing this? Was it simply to protect Beth and Avirzah’e? I could no longer be sure of my motives.

  Sandalphon sighed. ‘Perhaps you’d better tell me more - if you can.’

  I shook my head. ‘No, I regret that I can’t - for now.’ I leaned towards him, and spoke in a low, urgent voice. ‘But it is absolutely imperative that the Parzupheim are not told of what occurred last night. Nobody must know. Can you make sure of this? Would you prevent Hadith from spreading the news?’

  Sandalphon hesitated.

  ‘My father will be able to explain everything when he returns to Sacramante,’ I said. ‘I promise you. Please, give me your word. Give me the silence of Sarim!’

  He sighed again. ‘Gimel, I don’t know if I can. The implications are awesome. You know that the Tartaruchi throng is suspected of certain other transgressions. This is vital evidence. Forgive me, but if Avirzah’e has infiltrated the Metatronim throng, it is a matter which should not, under any circumstances, be kept secret.’

  ‘Don’t you believe what I’ve told you?’ I asked sharply.

  ‘Yes, I believe you, because of who you are, but you said yourself that Avirzah’e acted... presumptively. Metatron would not approve of that, you know he wouldn’t.’

  So, I would have to cast my sharpest hook, along with the smaller. There was little chance Sandalphon would wriggle free of this. ‘Very well, I understand your dilemma. However, there is something else I have to tell you. After hearing it, you might give me your assurances more readily.’

  He glanced at me sharply. ‘Then speak,’ he said.

  I drew myself up straight in my chair. ‘Sandalphon, I need to gain access to the Bale Tower.’

  For a moment, he looked at me blankly, clearly believing he had misheard me. ‘Access where?’ he said.

  ‘I think you heard me, Sandalphon. The Bale Tower.’

  A certain incredulity dawned in his sad, tawny eyes. ‘You mean... you want to try and communicate with Sammael?’ he said. ‘But...’

  ‘Not buts! It is essential! Metatron left me with instructions to be followed only if certain conditions arose. They have! The future of our race is at stake, Sandalphon. You are, if I am not mistaken, the Keeper of the Key, in Metatron’s absence. For the love of my father, please help me.’

  ‘You know Sammael has forbidden us to approach him, Gimel. No one has seen him for centuries. I don’t think...’

  ‘Forgive me, but I am not asking you to think, Sandalphon. I have to carry out Metatron’s instructions and - if I may be rather direct - so do you.’

  He asked no further questions.

  The Bale Tower stands alone, in a neglected corner of the atelier courts. It is the most ancient building in our enclave, the first that was built for us by the patrons. Its summit kisses the lower clouds, forever sheathed in tears of mist. As far as anyone knows, no one ever goes there, for its occupant has shut himself away from the world. Twice a year, on the solstice nights, a newly matured human of comely aspect is taken to the foot of Bale and the dark doors open to let them inside. In the summer, a maiden is taken; in winter, a youth. They never come out again.

  Long ago, the occupant of the tower had been a great prince of eloim; the most beautiful, the most powerful. They had called him the Lord of Light. What he was now, exactly, no one knew, for he never showed himself. He, like his brother, the sad Mikha’il, had a wound above the heart that never healed. Once, they had fought terribly; it had been a war that neither side could win. We eloim upon the Earth were Sammael’s minions, although he ignored us now. It was said that, on windy nights, he stood upon the pinnacle of Bale and called to his brother through the clouds, called him from the old world that had cast us out. It was said Mikha’il obeyed this summons, and that they scratched each other through the storm. It was, of course, utter fantasy. There was no contact with the other world. However, it was believed that Sammael knew everything - every thought in the world, every deed, every question and answer.

  He knew all about the conjunction of eloim; he would have banished nothing from his heart and mind, no matter how many millennia had moved across the sky above him. He remembered. And if anyone knew the cause of all that was happening to us now, it was he.

  Metatron, if he’d been in the city, would have prevented my action. He observed the law whereby Sammael had excommunicated himself from our reality. We could not go to Sammael for advice, even if he was the only creature who could counsel us, simply because he did not wish us to. The law had been created millennia before, and was respected with a stringency that was almost fearful. I had no regard for this law. The previous night, I had experienced a profound revelation at the feet of Mikha’il’s statue. Sammael’s solitude must be invaded; he must be forced to speak to me. I had no idea what I would find within the Tower, whether my mind could withstand it, or even how I would be received by this powerful being, but I was prepared to risk annihilation to attract Sammael’s attention. My little Rayojini was no longer enough; I needed to secure unimaginable support for her. It might be that, should I be able to interest Lord Sammael in our problems, we would no longer even need a soulscaper. I could still draw Rayojini to me, but perhaps without having to put her in peril. That idea alone was attractive. Beth had bitten through the rein of love that bound him to me; he flirted with potentially catastrophic desires. Avirzah’e was stronger than I had thought. I no longer knew what the real problem was. Who else could I turn to, but Sammael?

  My father, under the jurisdiction of the Parzupheim, controlled the only key to the Tower of Bale. In his absence, Sandalphon was responsible for it. I knew I was abusing the power Metatron had invested in me, and I was also abusing the trust of Sandalphon but, the previous night, I had stood before the statue of Mikha’il, floundering in a sea of dark and turbulent emotion, and I had made up my mind. No one could change that conviction; I felt as if the direction had come from Mikha’il himself.

  Sandalphon walked with me to the Tower. I could see that he was, even at that last moment, struggling within himself. His instincts told him he was doing something very wrong but Sandalphon felt he had to trust me, because I was Metatron’s daughter and had learned how to speak with my father’s voice and command with his eyes. I had dressed myself in simple black and unbound my hair. I had removed all my rings, including the family
seal that Metatron had entrusted into my care, and the locket around my throat that bore my father’s likeness. I became an eloim essence, little more. As I walked, I let all but my sense of purpose drift away from me, downhill, towards the sea. I felt I could not take anything more with me into the Tower; there was no other way to face Sammael.

  As we mounted the final stretch of hill, through an avenue of thick, dark cypress trees, a bell began to toll down in the atelier courts. I turned back and studied the tall buildings, the narrow streets, the high walls. The brighter sprawl of Sacramante beyond them was perhaps four times as large as our crowded enclave, where we clustered like a vast colony of nervous bats. An image flashed through my mind: blood-suckers with bright eyes hanging from crumbling towers, pressed close together, trembling, stinking of blood. I swallowed thickly. Beside me, Sandalphon shivered and pulled his cloak more closely around his body. The wind whipped his pale, fine hair around his face. ‘Gimel, we can still go back...’

  I shook my head, and turned into the wind, climbing, climbing, up through the avenue of restless trees. Above me, at the end of this tunnel of foliage, the Tower itself loomed solid and dark and silent. Soon, we stood upon its lichened steps.

  Still shaking his head and sighing, Sandalphon put the great black key in its lock, where it turned as smoothly as if it was used every day. At the push of his hand, the door swung open without a sound. A slight thread of panic wove a line across my heart. I put my hand on Sandalphon’s arm and said, ‘Wait for me.’ Then the thread unravelled and was blown away down the hill.

  Sandalphon nodded. ‘If it takes a century, I will wait for you.’

  I smiled, although it was hard to do so. ‘I might not come out again.’

  ‘I will wait,’ Sandalphon said, and sat down upon the steps, from where he looked up at me like a sweet, trusting boy. I wanted to kiss him, but knew I should not. I went inside the Tower.