‘And why?’ Claw said, his voice rising. ‘Because, as usual, you couldn’t keep your pricks in your breeches! Perhaps what you attempted with Aphrodite had something to do with our being turned to stone!’
‘That’s enough!’ Bwani said. Fire flashed out of his mouth as he spoke, startling Maya. ‘Claw, you are sadly misinformed if you think that the Azephim deserve our sympathy. I for one will not rest easily until I have Ishran’s brains in my hands.’
There were loud cries of Hear! Hear! from the assembled Wizards. Steppm held up a goblet of raspberry wine. ‘Let us drink to the death of the Ghormho!’ he cried.
The men raised their glasses, with the exception of Claw, who stood up and walked away angrily, his cloak billowing behind him. Maya watched as he walked towards the Sapphire Lakes. Part of her longed to go after him and offer her support. Edwen sneered after him. ‘He’s going to be trouble, Bwani,’ he said. ‘I had forgotten what a milksop maid the Claw can be. He’s even more unbearable than I remembered. Besides, you had better watch out for him. He’s been making cow-eyes at Maya for days, singing his songs. He’s cunning, old Claw. While he runs us down for sleeping with women who offer themselves freely, he’s lusting after your woman! Believe me, he would soon be out with his tool if it were Maya offering herself
‘He is a friend. Nothing more,’ Maya said. She fell an intense hatred for Edwen flare up inside her, as well as a strange surge of excitement at the coarse image he had described. Bwani laughed, but anger lurked in his eyes. ‘The Claw is loyal to me,’ he said. Maya attempted to ignore the mocking glint in Edwen’s eyes.
Later that night, Maya was awakened by the cries of Bwani. They had been lying together under the stars by the glowing eyes of the fire.
‘What is it?’ Maya gripped his arm in alarm. She did not recognise the man who stared wildly in front of him with eyes of terror. ‘My blood,’ Bwani whispered in a hoarse, cracked voice. ‘I saw my own blood flow from my burst veins while a black sow ate my heart and vultures waited to take my eyes.’
Maya felt her heart contract; dreams were taken seriously in the world of the Imomm. ‘It is symbolic, Bwani,’ she said. ‘You know dreaming of death rarely means literal death. It is natural that you would have disturbing dreams with everything you have been through. The dream is a whisper of transformation, of change’
Bwani nodded, his shoulder-length fair hair disguising his face. ‘I hope you are right, sweet Maya,’ he said. ‘For I do not want to die when I have just begun to live in meeting you.’
Maya pulled him into her arms, feeling the fear as the memory of his dream still taunted him. ‘Go back to sleep, Bwani,’ she whispered, conscious of the Wizards who lay so close to them. If they were awake, they would clearly be able to hear every word, She noticed as she lay back down next to Bwani that Claw had not returned to the camp, and she wondered, through a haze of exhaustion, where the young Bird Wizard had vanished. She fell asleep wondering, while Bwani stared into the dark night, fighting the demons that waited for him in Morpheus’s domain.
Claw had returned by the morning. He sat nursing a cup of esteo, avoiding everyone’s eyes. In the light of day, the terror that Morpheus had brought to Bwani could be disregarded, and there was no sign of the vulnerable child he had revealed to Maya during the night. Now he was the authoritative leader sitting looking at the Sapphire Lakes through narrowed eyes. This morning the men were subdued. The air was colder today than the previous, mist covered the beauty of the Lakes and ice could be seen floating on the surface of the water. Ice and early morning frost still lay under their feet, and Maya could clearly read the thought patterns of the assembled Wizards. They were longing for warm sort beds stuffed with feathers, and steaming herbal baths poured by nubile willing maidens. For too long they had stood naked and exposed to the elements in all seasons; now they longed for pampering and comforts that even the peasants of Eronth would take for granted. Claw alone seemed unconcerned with the uncomfortable surroundings. He sat, lost in his own world, strumming his zitter board as usual, composing a new song.
‘I think it is time we joined together and meditated on the Guardian of the Lakes for knowledge,’ Bwani said. They sat grouped together for warmth, Maya in the centre. Linking hands, they began to concentrate on their breathing.
After a long period of time, Maya was hopelessly bored. Meditation was not something that the Imomm practised, and she found it difficult to understand why the Wizards were taking it all so seriously. Her back hurt, she kept longing to clear her throat, and her foot had gone to sleep. Miserably, she resumed her concentration on the Lakes, yawning as she did so. Nothing was going to happen, she could sense, unless they all died of hypothermia in the frigid air. Her thoughts turned to the Hollow Hills, and she wondered how Diomonna was faring now that she had killed Old Patricia.
More time passed. Maya began to wish she could go to sleep to end this torturous exercise. She could feel something crawling on her face and she tried to blow it off with her breath. The tickling sensation was unbearable, but she knew if she moved, she would draw attention to herself and earn Bwani’s displeasure. She yawned again. Nothing was going to happen.
She opened her eyes. All the Wizards had done the same, and they had dropped hands as one. The Lakes were now radiant with light. Maya stared in awe at the beauty of them. They pulsated with life. In the middle of the water was a golden canoe, in which there stood a beautiful woman. She had the tail of a lion and golden hair like a lioness, and she dazzled with radiance. Maya realised she was the Guardian of the Lakes. A strange note vibrated in the air, and Maya could feel her breathing alter with the intensity of the sound. She was aware the Wizards had begun removing their clothes, and she hurried to do the same. All modesty about stripping in front of nine men vanished as she threw her outer garments off. They were walking towards the freezing water, and Maya followed them.
When their feet touched the icy lake, fire sparked. The water was exquisite. Maya thought she had never experienced anything so sensual and beautiful in her life, and she could tell by the expressions on her companions’ faces that they shared her experience. She ducked under the water, her long hair flowing behind her, to watch brilliantly coloured fishes and plant life. Rising to the top and shaking her hair back, she saw that Bwani was now in the boat with the Guardian. They were making love. Maya watched in detachment as they moved frantically against each other. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to be observing Bwani as he made love to another.
Fish swam past, brushing her body, and she sighed in delight. Every touch in this enchanted water was divine. She could hear the sobs of some of the Wizards; they were reliving memories of their time in stone — memories they had attempted to forget. Once again, this seemed totally natural to Maya, and she glided through the water with no thought of offering them comfort. Others had joined Bwani to make love to the Guardian, and for once, Maya felt none of her usual distaste when she observed the Wizards enjoying the bodies of the Eronthite women.
More fish swam past her, and she sighed as they floated near her breasts. Something moved near her, sending an electric sensation of pleasure through her body. She closed her eyes, giving herself up to the sensation. Her flesh had become an oasis of throbbing need. Through her excitement, she could feel claws upon her skin, and she shook with desire, wanting him so badly inside her that she didn’t care who looked upon them. He was behind her, exploring what she offered to him, causing her pain as his claws roamed inside her. His eyes stared deeply into hers for a second, for a lifetime. Then he was gone. She opened her eyes in confusion and Bwani was in his place. He thrust himself into her, as he had just thrust himself so eagerly into the Guardian, and Maya, already worked up in anticipation of another, came almost instantly. She twisted around and clasped Bwani to her as the tongues of pleasure flamed inside her, and the Sapphire Lakes revealed to them all only a small portion of some of the secrets they contained.
When they finally emerged from t
he lake the sky was the faintest tinge of mauve. Shadows were slowly beginning to creep across the land, and ghosts of travellers long past whispered memories of another time. It was twilight, that dangerous in-between time when it was possible to slip between worlds. It was even more perilous tonight on holy Salhmain, when the veil between worlds was thinnest. A group of swans moved silently from the Lakes, shape-shifting into a family of sisters, their eyes widening in alarm when they spotted the intruders. Mouths open in fright, they vanished into shadows.
The Wizards each avoided the others’ eyes as, shivering, they made their way to their clothes and hurriedly dressed. None of them were untouched by what had occurred to them in the water. As Maya buttoned her gown with shaking hands turned blue from cold, she was aware of Claw’s gaze upon her. She glanced up, her mind confused, her body remembering the touch of his claws upon her skin. He did not break her gaze as his dark eyes held her. He swung his wet hair back from his face, revealing the golden earring that he wore. Aware of Edwen’s eyes upon her, Maya broke the stare and began to plait her hair. Harbog was sitting with his face in his hands, while Ejillahm patted him consolingly on the shoulder.
‘It’s in the past, dear friend,’ he kept repeating. ‘These taunts of the mind are part of the healing of the Lakes. Don’t be so hasty to judge yourself.’
‘But they were children!’ Harbog protested. ‘What knowledge did that planet have of self-defence? I know we were following orders, but . . .’
He broke off when he realised Maya was staring at him. Josem and Dewf sat silently, heads bowed, while Steppm looked as if he, too, had been crying for hours. Bats flapped silently past them, making them all jump, and the sound of a canoe could be distinctly heard on the water.
Bwani alone appeared his normal self, Maya thought in amazement. She remembered again how amorously he had made love to the Guardian and marvelled that it had not hurt her to see the man she loved so dearly in the body of another. But in the Sapphire Lakes, all the normal rules had dissolved. Shivering, she stared out over the shiny black surface of the Lakes, her ears craning for the sound of the oars of the Guardian. Suddenly she became aware Bwani was announcing to the men that tomorrow they would ride to Faia, and she felt a finger of fear inside her body. A black saw is eating my heart. The words of Bwani’s dream returned to her. A half-memory rose in her, a terrible knowledge that she knew had to be suppressed if she were to be able to face the days ahead. Looking out at the Lakes, hearing the cries of the Imomm who had travelled here before remembered time and been murdered, chilled her to her bones. Her fear of ghosts and the Phooka evaporated as she sensed the demon spirits that she carried within. The sound of the Wizards sobbing quietly at times reached her, and she relished the warmth that Claw’s eyes gave her. She stood alone with her fear and her suppressed knowledge.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
This is the very ecstasy of love,
Whose violent property foredoes itself,
And leads the will to desperate undertakings
— William Shakespeare, Hamlet II.i
Sydney, Australia
Theresa had been freaking him lately. Lazariel could smell the instability and imbalance that crawled all over her. She had been turning up regularly for meetings, but her heart wasn’t in it, he knew. He could detect on her body the odour of desperation and fear. There were times in the rituals when he would look up and she would be staring at him with an expression of hate. He had debated banning her altogether from the meetings. New members had been introduced and were settling in well, but he kept putting it off, dreading the scene that he knew would follow if he did. Fortunately he had plenty of other things to occupy his mind. Minette’s husband suspected her of having an affair and had hired a private detective to follow her. She had become even more highly strung than usual with the strain of being tailed, and would fly into hysterical outbursts at a moment’s notice. Lazariel would lecture her on detachment and not giving in to the actress nature of the ego self. Minette was a drama queen, thriving on the attention.
The group had grown so much he was now looking for a larger space they could rent. Prices were sky-high in Sydney, however, so it looked as if he would have to relocate everyone. Even more disturbing, he thought he had spotted Kath recently. It was either Kath, or her doppelganger. Once at Darling Harbour, and once at the Museum of Contemporary Art. The woman had looked at him with no trace of recognition, but the irrational thought remained that it was her. Her hair was cut short in wispy layers, and her clothes were the type she would once have sneered at: dark, conservative, pinstripes, drab. It couldn’t be her. But it was. He simply knew it.
With these concerns on his mind, he had failed to recognise the angel for what it was when he had first materialised to him. He had been in the hall at Erskineville, preparing for the ritual, when he had felt someone’s eyes upon him. Startled, he had looked up, and standing in front of him was a tall dark-haired man. His face was beautiful, although his full lips seemed to hint of cruel pleasures. He was wearing a casual black jacket and trousers, but there was something wrong about the everyday clothes. Dark varnish gleamed on his nails, and little fire lights of deep red shone in his night-black long hair.
Lazariel feared looking directly into his dark, knowing eyes, caught by an irrational fear that he would burst into flame. He frowned, wondering how this stranger had entered the hall without him hearing anything. ‘Are you here for the meeting?’ he asked.
The stranger’s breath had seemed to flow between them, into his mouth, creating a link, a bond between them. He had smiled and, for a second, Lazariel had forgotten how to breathe. ‘Yes, I think that I am.’ Such had been his first formal introduction to Ishran.
When the stranger had talked that night, it was as if the room had become magnetised. His words twisted like snakes in the air, charming all who sat there, and when he did not speak, the same air seemed flat and stale. Lazariel recognised that his own power had been surpassed; he witnessed the rapt expressions on the others’ faces, but he did not care, caught as he was in the stranger’s chilling web. He could never remember of what it was that he spoke so eloquently on that first night; all he knew was his tongue had awoken a desire in him. A desire he could not name, and could not control.
Theresa alone seemed untouched by the power that sat before them, talking earnestly, dark eyes holding them all, cruel mouth seducing them. She just sat, a wretched expression on her face. She had put on weight recently, Lazariel thought. Her face was puffy and white. Her hair, dyed a darker brown, was greasy. Any concern he might have felt about her and her state of mind refused to flower when the stranger focused on him. Beyond the room, soft rain fell on city streets, and the siren of an ambulance could be heard.
The world outside ceased to exist.
Ishran was enjoying himself. It had been a long time since he had commanded such respect and admiration. The Protectors in the room were going crazy, stepping forward holding up their amulets to warn him off, but he ignored them. He had been invited here by the Fallen One’s prayers. They needed, wanted him here, and as they desired, so it would be. He could feel his power sharpening just by being in the same room as the Fallen One, and he marvelled again how such a special being could be found in such ordinary, gross surroundings. He was ripe, Ishran knew. Starving, thirsty, longing to satisfy himself in the stark, infinite desert of Ishran’s knowledge.
How vulnerable they were, those hungry for power and experience. His mouth opened and he found himself reciting texts of Azephim lore in the old tongue, texts that were never meant to be uttered in mixed company, due to the power that they contained. Ishran was beyond those rules now, he told himself. Raw Azephim power was given form.
Even as he enjoyed the moment, he could hear the sly chuckles of Charmonzhla, witnessing from another dimension. He held them, he could see that. They were in the palm of his hand, he could crush them, wipe from their memories all that they had been and were. He could baptise them to pain and to
thunder. They were fruit, ripe for the picking, possibly rotten to the core.
Watching him with anger in her eyes was a dumpy brunette. She resented him; Ishran could read this easily in her. He was a stranger of light, a magician of darkness, who had slipped from the night and was beguiling her loved one with words of healing fire. Her heart chakra area was bruised; she pined for the Fallen One. Cords drooped uselessly from her lower chakras. Ishran had already marked her out to be the Chosen One. He despised Bluites; to him their life cycles were as meaningful as a cockroach’s. He would enjoy squashing this plump ugly little woman who hated herself so much. He continued to speak, words flowing out of him in golden rivers, entire texts from the Book of Darkness, drawing the energy from those who sat enthralled, listening to his words of love.
When the meeting had ended, and the last person had reluctantly left the hall, Lazariel turned to Ishran. ‘That was . . .’ he began.
Ishran looked at him and smiled. Lazariel stopped, suddenly feeling foolish, and afraid. ‘Would you care for a drink?’ Ishran was smiling, and Lazariel’s spirits soared. Pathetic, he knew, but he suddenly felt accepted.
‘Sure, okay,’ he said, trying not to sound too eager. ‘Do you know any good pubs in the area?’
Ishran smiled, ‘I’m not from this city.’ His accent was strange, Lazariel realised. It slipped between American and European. He was curious about his origins, but he knew instinctively that the being who stood before him did not play by the same social rules.
The Doghouse Hotel, so named because of the number of dogs it welcomed, was virtually deserted. A few students sat arguing at one of the graffiti-scratched tables. A discreet row of pokies stood where bands had once performed. Once again, when the barmaid served them, Lazariel was able to observe at close quarters the effect that Ishran had on people. She was nervous, spilling the beers they ordered.
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