Bride of the Stone: Circle of Nine Trilogy 2

by Josephine Pennicott

  She would not be the first female to come to the stone and rub her naked body against him. Many Eronth women had done so, in the hope of conceiving. But Maya knew that she was the first who had removed her clothes for the reason that she was now performing. Her gowns in a bundle beside her, she faced the stone naked. She felt the energy of the monolith pull her towards him. His call was impossible to resist. A fire raged through her body.

  She moved against him, slowly at first, teasing him with her nipples, holding her breasts and rubbing them against him, moving her lower limbs, feeling herself soaking wet. Then she straddled him, arms around him, legs spread wide, pushing herself into the hard rock. She could feel his excitement as he sent energy out to her, and the arousal of the eight silent watching stones.

  Now the stone was moving. Bwani was thrusting himself into her, causing her to scream aloud with the pleasure. The stone was jerking, thrusting, the vibration was altering. She felt a penis inside her, but the shock of feeling the organ was displaced by the sensations it gave her as it thrust roughly inside her wet bush. Her climax was unexpected, rising within her quickly, seeming to split her womb in two.

  The stone was breaking, cracking into thousands of pieces, dust flying in the air around her as she came. Maya fell onto the ground with the force of the eruption. Her startled mind only had seconds to take in what was happening. Around her the stones were disintegrating, dissolving into dust, releasing the dreams, longings and frustrations of the nine trapped Rainbow Bird Wizards.

  Among the debris of the falling monoliths stood the Wizards. Maya glanced around wildly, attempting vainly to cover her nakedness as they materialised. She found herself looking upwards in shock at Bwani.

  He was the most exotic man that Maya had ever seen. He had the face of a Bluite, but the coloured vortices of his chakra system were openly displayed, the wheels spinning freely. His long, fair hair fell to his waist, plaited in wild coloured ribbons. His hands were small and delicate and, in place of fingers, he had tiny claws. Although he looked similar to Bluite men, there was no mistaking his Bird Planet origins. He was dressed in animal furs and brightly coloured feathers from magical birds from all the known worlds, for the Rainbow Bird Wizards were great travellers. The remaining eight Wizards were dressed in a similar exotic fashion, but Maya only had eyes for Bwani. His eyes were flashes of lightning, of fire, of tenderness. His eyes were hungry as he looked down upon her body.

  He knelt beside her, and helped her to cover her nakedness with her gown. ‘Thank you, Maya,’ he said. Maya stared at him in shock that he could speak the Tongue of All Worlds. ‘Thank you for heeding my call,’ he said.

  Maya trembled at the touch of his claws on her skin. The desire that she felt for him made her momentarily shy.

  The Wizards began embracing each other. There were tears and exclamations of relief that their imprisonment in the stone was at an end.

  Oblivious to the drama unfolding nearby, the Virgins slept peacefully on. Above them, on the mountain cliffs that overlooked the field of the Circle of Nine, the Stag Man loomed, his white coat shining silver in the light of the triple moons. His cry of triumph was for the air elementals who would carry the news over Eronth. ‘Oza Heim! Leexamo Hi! Oza heim washwal! They have awakened!’

  Tethered to the Eom, separated bodily in the spinnerets, Tanzen and Rozen heard the cry and they looked deeply into each other’s eyes, silently rejoicing. This was the moment that they had longed for. If the Wizards had truly awakened, as the prophecies had claimed, then the Rainbow Bird Men could reclaim the Eom, releasing Tanzen and Rozen from the hell that they had endured for what seemed endless Turns of the Wheel. The Eom sensed their change of mood, and sent a bolt of red fire energy into their bodies, which caused them to contort their faces in pain. No further communication continued between the Webx Elders. The Eom sat patiently, knowing what was about to occur, welcoming the change.

  The cry of the Stag Man was carried by the air elementals to every corner of Eronth. The earth itself celebrated the news. It was time for a new order. The goddesses disagreed. For when the Rainbow Bird Wizards had first carried the Eom into Eronth, they had carried with them an environmental disaster. Seleza, the High Priestess of the Azephim angels, had wasted no time crossing to Eronth, and installing Ishran, the Ghormho, in the Wastelands. Many species of animal and plant life had been hunted and eaten into extinction. The Faery kingdoms also suffered under the ruthless experimentation that was carried out on them as the Azephim enacted ritual after ritual, desperately attempting to charge the Eom.

  When Bwani had turned his attentions to Aphrodite, and molested the Tomb Goddess, he brought the combined fury of the goddesses onto the Wizards, turning them into stone. When they had first arrived in Faia, the Wizards had been much loved by the Faiaites, whose loyalty did not falter even when they discovered the extent of the goddesses’ wrath. The nine Virgins had been installed to love and protect the monoliths, and many a Crone had attempted to break the binding that enclosed the men in rock.

  Now that they were free, the goddesses, who overlooked all, doubted that they would leave Eronth immediately, and they wondered with trepidation what further damage the Wizards could inflict on their world.

  The goddesses looked on silently. They had witnessed countless civilisations being built, become empires and fall. They had marvelled at the speech that dripped from the first tongue, they had crouched with cavemen in Paleolithic caves, they had been onlookers as the Heztarra Galaxies communicated the gift of fire. They had seen angels rise and fall and countless sparrows rise from the chests of the dying. They knew of magnificent underwater civilisations that were unknown to all the worlds. But the Eronthites were free to choose their own destiny.

  *

  The rumblings from the Eom in the Wastelands were unmistakable. It was charging.

  Each goddess was silent, forbidden to discuss the mysteries with her allies, but in their eyes lurked the faintest of fears. Civilisations could take centuries to develop, and then be demolished with the beat of an eyelid.

  They listened carefully with divine ears, as the Eom began slowly to breathe.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  And note that if he confesses under the torture, he must afterward be conducted to another place, that he may confirm it and certify that it was not due alone to the force of the torture. But, if the prisoner will not confess the truth satisfactorily, other sorts of tortures must be placed before him, with the statement that unless he will confess the truth, he must endure these also.

  — Kramer and Sprenger, the Malleus Maleficarum

  The Lightcaster walked slowly along the forest road, carrying his belongings in a shining black leather bag. Stone walls lined the lane, and the smell of lemons wafted to him from the nearby fruit trees. The sun shone weak and pale through the peach-coloured sky. He saw no other travellers. A few farmers working their crops raised their straw hats and called a greeting as he passed their fields. He imagined the majority of the Faiaites used the skymobile to travel to New Baffin.

  It was time to continue his journey. His work in Faia was over for now. His spirits were high at the beauty of the day. Eronth was not his favourite world. There were too many Goddess lovers for him to contemplate staying too long, but it was a change to be in the peace of the countryside after his stint in Italy and Africa on the Blue Planet.

  The Pricker paused to admire his reflection in a puddle. He had to admit he was looking exceptionally handsome and rested after his brief idyll in Faia village. His stovepipe hat shone, his cape was immaculate, his skin had a pleasing healthy tinge in his cheeks. He had powdered his wig carefully in the early hours. Even the scales that covered his face and hands only added to his beauty.

  He felt marvellously restored after soaking up the fear and energy that he had installed in Faia. It had proved to be worth the journey. He had underestimated the darkness that lurked within the hearts of the Faiaites. Why, he had believed them to be a bunch of pussy-lov
ing Goddess fools, but they had proved him wrong, they had come through for him. The last burning had been a pleasure to behold. Six weeks ago he would not have believed it possible to set the simple agricultural peaceful Faiaites against each other, but they had shown him that no-one was immune to the Pricker’s influence! He had dined well on the energy in Faia.

  The unfortunate soul he had set the Faiaites on had been a maid from one of the many outlying farms. The Lightcaster would normally concentrate his energy on the Crones, but the maid had been exceptionally beautiful, with abundant auburn hair and honey eyes of gold. He had seen the envy directed at her by other maids in the area, so it had only been a matter of a few whispered hints, of dreams he had sent to them, planting the suggestions:

  The maid was a whore, she had slept with the entire town, had slept with their husbands, with their sons, their brothers. The maid liked to eat the flesh of children, no babe born in that town would be safe. She had been seen and heard bragging about fucking the devil when he came to the door. Her honey-golden eyes were not natural, they had been given to her by demons, so she could cast her spell on men. She was a witch, a witch! Witch! Witch!

  The whispers flew frantically around the village. He had not even needed to be physically present to spread his poison. It had taken a much shorter time than he had anticipated. Even with his centuries of experience, the act of whipping the town into the desired murderous frenzy had been far easier than he had anticipated.

  He saw them drag the maid to the square and strap her to the old burning pole. He had watched, exquisite tremors running through him, as the flames had licked her body. She had screamed terribly, praying to the goddesses for deliverance. They had also blinded her, he had noted with satisfaction. They had taken the golden eyes from her head, the eyes that contained the demons. This little act had both amused and touched him. They had listened to his whispers, heeded his sly warnings. They might be simple uneducated souls, but they were not without hope.

  Even without her eyes, he knew the maid could see him, as he stood to the side of the jeering crowd, watching with deep appreciation the result of his work. She had screamed a curse at him, but it contained no power in it. Stupid bitch! More powerful witches than she had cursed him over the centuries with no effect.

  He had bowed to her, mockingly, as she uttered her final scream. After her death, a strange silence had fallen upon the crowd, but the Lightcaster was used to that reaction. Realisation of what had just occurred broke over the good people, and they began looking at each other accusingly, avoiding the blackened, charred body on the pole. Their steps were shambling, and what little speech they had was like the disjointed words of a dream. One by one, they had shuffled home, closing their doors against the inevitable oncoming of the night, afraid of the darkness that flowed within their own souls. A trade had been made and, whether they were conscious of the deal or not, they had listened to the whispers of the Lightcaster, and they were now his. They had become weaker as he grew stronger.

  When he had woken that morning, he had known it was time to leave. Khartyn would soon be on the move again. He could feel her hateful presence near him. He was being guided to her.

  He had not been sorry to leave the boarding place that he had made his temporary home. The people that frequented the premises were coarse, common souls. He desired to be among people of learning, of culture. New Baffin had a rising art movement of mystic symbolist art, and he was interested in seeing it for himself. He thought regretfully of the Galleria Nazionale d’Arte Moderna in Rome.

  One day, he mused, when he had the time, and every stinking witch in the known worlds was dead, he would undertake a painting class. He would like to depict landscapes such as the one that he stood in now. Of course he couldn’t physically perform the act of painting, but he could use his energy to work through others. It was a pleasing thought, and he amused himself with it as he found his way to a small crossroads on the road leading to New Baffin.

  He was waiting for Sati. Not even the thought of dealing with the screeching, neurotic Azephim Queen could dampen the Lightcaster’s enthusiasm for this fine day. As he waited, sitting by the lane and listening to the melody of owls in the nearby woods, he enjoyed a simple lunch of cheese and pickles.

  At length he spotted her in the sky, a small black pinpoint, but coming closer. He sighed, brushing the crumbs from his meal carefully from his trousers. With a rush of wings, a large eagle appeared before him, shape-shifting into the Azephim Queen as she landed.

  He bowed deeply, removing his hat, wondering at the excitement in her eyes.

  ‘In the name of Alecom, you are looking beautiful today!’ he exclaimed.

  ‘Enough!’ Sati snapped. ‘Why are you taking so long in Faia? By Alecom’s cold prick, has not enough time been already wasted, thanks to stinking Artemis? I hired you and brought you to Eronth to destroy Khartyn! Yet you waste your time on worthless prostitutes and Crones in Faia.’

  The Pricker examined his nails carefully. Each one shone from the constant buffing and care he gave them, and he worried over slight ridges he could see forming. Did he have a nutritional deficiency? He allowed Sati to enjoy the sound of her own voice for a few minutes more before he interrupted. ‘You are getting your feathers fluffed for no reason, Sati. I have now left Faia. For New Baffin, where the Crone has travelled. I had my reasons for beginning the hunt in Faia. It is necessary to break down opposition to me in as many places as possible. I must weaken the alliances that the Eronthites have with Mary.’

  ‘The Bluite whore is no more. Haven’t you heard? She lies deeply asleep, with no senses. If you hadn’t been wallowing in Faia’s lowlife, you might be aware of what is actually happening in the village. The Sea Hags are preparing to take over the village. They have their land legs now.’

  The Lightcaster attempted to look interested, although politics bored him terribly. All he cared about was instilling fear and inciting people to commit murder. All that he enjoyed was hunting witches. ‘Fascinating news indeed,’ he replied carefully.

  ‘Remember the deal,’ Sati said. ‘You can have access to our laboratories, and our experiments would amaze you. Even as we speak, the Azephim have made great progress with the forbidden transplantations.’

  The Lightcaster’s nostrils flared. Just slightly, but it was enough for Sati to see that she had his attention.

  ‘I will also give you the old bitch’s Book of Shadows,’ she promised. ‘Imagine the knowledge the Crone has within those pages!’

  She neglected to tell him that Khartyn had encoded the book so that anyone opening it, aside from the original creator, would only see a meaningless set of hieroglyphs.

  ‘The old Crone is canny indeed,’ the Lightcaster said. ‘If I rush her, she might very well evade me. Her magic be stinking powerful. I need to ensure my whispers reach the ears of those in Eronth who can aid me in destroying the old bitch.’

  Sati nodded viciously. ‘Yet you claim to have a powerful hold over all the known worlds! I cannot wait much longer. If your powers be as great and mighty as you are wont to boast, then Khartyn should prove no match for you.’

  The Lightcaster admired his trousers. They had been pressed to a crisp perfection in Faia that very morning. ‘As I have told you, I am on my way to New Baffin now,’ he said. ‘I have sniffed out the Crone. You should have more confidence in my methods. Wherever I tread there is misery. Whenever I breathe, civilisations collapse.’

  ‘Then go quickly!’ Sati screeched. She shape-shifted into her eagle form. ‘May Alecom guide you. May her death be lingering and hideous!’

  The Lightcaster bowed to the ground with a flourish, watching with glinting hard eyes as she swooped upwards into the sky.

  ‘As you wish, so it shall be,’ he murmured.

  A slight breeze blew the leaves that lay on the ground skyward. A chill began to creep across the landscape. New Baffin lay before him. His polished leather boots resounding on the road, the Lightcaster began to walk. Mist
dangled from his boots, leaving a faint trail of slime to record his journey. As he walked, he hummed a little tune and reflected on some of his more grisly killings over the years. He felt light of heart, youthful despite his centuries, and filled with hope. His work in Eronth was just beginning.

  PART TWO

  FULL MOON

  Dawn — New Baffin

  The fire torches were still smouldering when the Goddess Aphrodite walked along the silent empty streets of New Baffin. Above her were white thin sickles of the triple moons. The marketplace was deserted, the stalls covered in readiness for the day of trading ahead. Dogs and meerwogs barked from behind closed doors as she passed on her solitary passage. There was a chill in the air, making the hairs on her arms stand up. She moved unerringly through the winding, polluted streets.

  The Temple of Divine Pleasure, one of the many large stone temples devoted to Aphrodite, was in operation despite the early hour. She could see the flickers of candles in windows, and soft groans of pleasure were carried to her by the air elementals. The Goddess smiled. Nothing touched her more than the image of people worshipping her through their flesh. Even on this holy morning she demanded that pleasure and love be celebrated in her temples. Quickly, before one of the Priestesses of the Divine Pleasure should sense her presence, she continued her solitary vigil.

  Statues stared at her with longing as she passed beneath them. They glowed with an unearthly light. There was nothing, nothing in the streets that did not contain a life essence, a longing to be loved. Even a statue. But the Tomb Goddess ignored them, and their cries for her touch went unheeded, for her sight was fastened inward. Air elementals crowded close to her, their scratchy whispers keeping her informed of the latest developments in Eronth. The sky was a wash of silver-grey. Rain hung in the clouds, waiting to be released later that day. The city continued to sleep.