Mary opened her eyes. ‘Well, you are a sight for sore eyes,’ she said, looking around slowly at all their faces. ‘There are no friends more dear to me than those in this room. I am a mere Bluite, but you have all taken me into your hearts, and I am eternally grateful for your loyalty.’
There were more loud cheers. Many of the Crones were now embracing and weeping openly, worn out from their long days and nights at Mary’s bedside. Khartyn gripped Mary’s shoulder, and her milky eyes stared into the Bluite’s with passion and youthful vigour. ‘I knew you would return to me,’ she said. ‘It was not your time. You are no mere Bluite. You are the finest we have ever seen in Eronth. I honour you, Mary, High Priestess of Faia. You are Bluite, High Priestess, and my daughter.’
Ano was kneeling by the bed, his eyes closed as tears of relief and joy slipped down his checks. Mary touched his hand gently, as she attempted to sit up. ‘I am a Bluite who is blessed beyond belief,’ she said. ‘For I have the love of Ano, who is the finest Janusite in the known worlds.’
Ano dipped his double heads, acknowledging her tribute, his eyes ringed in black from his lack of sleep.
*
Outside, pressed against the walls of Shellhome, Diomonna listened to the sounds of celebration inside. Her nose wrinkled with disgust as she hung, eavesdropping.
‘Sickly joy, heart green. Hiss, claw,’ she muttered. She had been hoping that the tongue Gwyndion had returned with would prove to be the tongue of a seahorse and Mary would start neighing. It filled her with rage that the senile Sea Warrior had meekly surrendered the tongue to the Webx. She was also suffused with jealousy about Samma. I should have killed that dirty meerwog when she was in the Hills! she thought. She had always disliked Samma, and now she knew why. The way Gwyndion was looking at her was heartbreaking. He had looked at Diomonna with eyes of lust, of yearning, but they had never held the same expression with which he gazed upon Samma.
‘Learn hate, no love,’ she muttered to him, but her words had no effect. Diomonna clung to the wall, feeling isolated from the happy scene inside the room. This was terrible news for the Imomm. Not only had the whore Bluite woken up, but Gwyndion was even further from her grasp than before. Black salty tears rolled slowly down her face. She pressed herself tightly against the wall, shaking with pain as scores of messenger doves were released from the room to spread the joyful tidings over Eronth.
The doves flew over Faia village, spiralling, singing loudly to the Faiaites and to the elementals. ‘She is awake! The High Priestess has returned! She has risen!’
The celebratory message signalling her recovery was picked up by the air elementals and reached the ears of the Circle of Nine as they made their camp for the night, ten miles from Faia.
‘It seems a lot has happened in Faia village,’ Bwani remarked, watching the air elementals as they swooped joyfully in the air, relaying their message. ‘Ah well, we shall be there shortly. No doubt we will hear all the news then.’
Maya was silent. She could feel Diomonna strongly tonight, and could sense she was in pain of some kind. She was also faintly nervous about accompanying the Circle of Nine into Faia. Would she be treated with more respect than when she was with the Imomm? There was a strange tension among the men tonight as they sat companionably over a last meal in the wilds, sharing bowls of vegetable stew. Maya realised they were nervous about being so near to the field where they had stood as stones for so long. If the goddesses decided they had not been punished enough . . . Steppm mopped up the last of his stew, sighing as he picked the mould off his bread. ‘I cannot wait to get some good Faian cooking into me!’ The others nodded in agreement.
‘And some bonny Faia maidens, eh?’ Ejillahm said. Maya looked into the fire, and said little. She couldn’t shake off a faint feeling of uneasiness about returning to Faia. She watched with suspicious eyes as Edwen talked in a hushed tone to Bwani, sketching a rough map in the dirt as he spoke. They were still keen to recover the Eom, Maya thought, and her nose wrinkled in distaste. She found it difficult to understand Bwani’s obsession with the Eom. Hadn’t the lives of the Circle of Nine been ruined enough by their original theft of the Eom from the Web-Kondoell? What fools men could be! Even warriors as powerful as the Rainbow Bird Wizards were still obsessed by power. Her eyes flickered from one face to another, as they sat hunched, lost to weariness and their own thoughts.
‘Give us a song, young Claw!’ Ejillahm cried, slapping him on the shoulder. ‘Chase some of the grimness of this night away!’
Claw shrugged. ‘I confess I don’t feel up to playing,’ he said. Nobody pressed him. They stared instead into the flames of the fire, feeling the energy that waited for them in Faia. The fist of uneasiness in Maya’s stomach tightened as she watched Bwani, his face lined with tension, nodding in agreement to Edwen.
Don’t listen to him! she longed to cry out. He is false of face, and not to be trusted. Let us run away, let us run as fast as we can from here. We can be Handfasted and live peacefully together in a little home near the Sapphire lakes. But she knew that even if she uttered the words, he would not listen.
They had all been dozing around the camp fire when she awoke, conscious of being spied upon. A gargantuan white owl was staring at Maya, and she felt enchantment slip over her as she studied its ample orange eyes and its immense body. The owl flew back into the forest, and Maya understood it wanted her to follow it. Sleepily she stumbled to her feet. She needed to urinate anyway, so she was grateful for the disruption to her slumber.
In the dark of the forest, she relieved herself quickly behind a tree, glancing around her warily, afraid that there were Imomm around who might attempt to drag her back into the Hollow Hills. Her breath steamed in the night air as her urine splashed the ground. She realised how sore her back was from sleeping on the hard ground. So this was not a dream. A movement in the tree behind her alerted her, and she turned to see the great owl again watching her. Maya went to move towards it, and it flew, vanishing among the trees. Maya hesitated, worried it was an Imomm using a powerful Glamour, but decided she had no choice and set out to follow.
There was a clearing in the forest ahead. A strange light illuminated the area. Maya suddenly knew what was waiting for her there. The Stag Man. He was larger than she had remembered in the thin light from the triple moons. His white hide was streaked with sweat, as though he had been running all night. His face, so human, so knowing, so inhuman, watched her intently. Maya was aware that she should not venture too near him. A small cloud of energy light was near his front shoulder, and Maya knew the spiral of energy was the soul essence of her Bluite mother, Emma. He turned, looking up at the owl for a second, and a message seemed to pass between them. Then his great eyes regarded Maya. For a timeless second, a lifetime, they surveyed each other. Maya’s chest ached with need, burned with longing to touch the magnificent being who had sired her. The trees swished softly around them, the night sighed, delirious with joy, to be in the presence of this reunion. The night became longing, became need, and turned to truth.
Maya took in every minute detail of the Stag Man. His immense antlers, with tiny scars running down the length of them. His flaring nostrils. His mouth, so human, so like her own. His great eyes rimmed with white. Startling her, he reared suddenly, and a flash of golden energy bathed the clearing. Then he was gone, vanished into the night, into a pocket of time. But in his place, something remained, a gift to Maya that glinted on the earth. She ran towards it eagerly. It was a dagger, small and perfect, moulded to fit the grip of her hand. Seven crystals lined the silver handle of the knife. She looked at it in wonderment, holding it to her face to feel the energy of the Stag Man through the weapon. There had to be a meaning to the gift, but for now Maya didn’t care to contemplate its significance. She wanted simply to absorb his essence as much as possible.
A sudden noise in the forest alerted her, and she turned, eyes wide. With her inner senses, she knew she was not alone, she was being watched. She moved towards the po
ckets of night where the deeper shadows lay, holding the knife out in front of her. ‘Hello?’ she called. No answer. Whoever had been there had fled.
When Maya returned to the Circle of Nine, she looked around her suspiciously. The last of the fire coals were glowing and all the men appeared to be deeply asleep, but Maya couldn’t shake the feeling that one of them had followed her. She spread her cloak out on the ground and huddled next to Bwani. She could feel the knife lying warm against her body. There would be no more sleep for her tonight, she decided. Her mind was too filled with the memory of her father, standing with her in the moonlight. As she waited for the grey dawn to begin its creep across the sky, the feeling of dread in her stomach refused to lie still.
*
They made an impressive procession as they rode into Faia village the next morning. They had spent time before they set off from the forest grooming their ilkamas so the animals’ coats would gleam. Bwani, Maya and Edwen rode at the front. Edwen carried a banner of black and silver with the diagram of a feather upon it, the banner of the Rainbow Bird Warriors. As they passed numerous farmers’ cottages, small children ran out screaming with excitement to witness the Circle of Nine returned to their true form. News had spread quickly via birds and elementals, and also by the Faiaites’ word of mouth.
By the time they had reached the village, a loud cheering crowd was waiting for them. Bwani returned salutations cheerfully enough, but his eyes were worried when he turned to Maya. ‘This village stinks of blood,’ he said. ‘No, it reeks of something worse than blood. I can smell Lightcaster energy.’
Maya nodded, not knowing what a Lightcaster was, but sensing the dark cloud of terror and pain that hung low over the village. She still remained fearful about how the Faiaites would receive her. Would they shun her, supposing her to be of Imomm blood? She would hate for Bwani to witness that humiliation. So far the crowd was ignoring her, giving their attention to the Wizards, although she sometimes caught snatches of comment about ‘the beautiful lady’ who rode at the front. The ilkamas were trotting proudly, revelling in the attention, and the Wizards were winning hearts as they nodded and smiled at the prettiest faces in the crowd. Maya was surprised by the warmth of the welcome.
They moved briskly through the streets of the village, the ilkamas’ hooves ringing on the stones, then began the winding ascent up to Shellhome. Villagers ran alongside them, throwing flowers and colourful ribbons. As they approached Shellhome, Maya noticed a welcoming party waiting to greet them at the front of the Temple of the High Priestess. With a start, she realised the group included Mary, the High Priestess, standing in the middle of the party, clothed in a long brown dress with purple embroidery and a wimple from which fluttered a purple silk veil.
She was a tiny figure in the flesh. It seemed impossible to believe that this Bluite had achieved so much in Eronth. A Janusite stood next to her, resplendent in a green-and-gold uniform, and a wizened Crone and a young fair-haired girl were nearby. On her left was a handsome Webx and a beautiful young Webx female. Maya tried not to stare too openly, but she had never seen Webx before, as they were so rare in all the known worlds. Mary stepped forward, her hands upraised in a traditional blessing gesture.
‘Welcome, Rainbow Wizards! Blessings upon you all.’ Her tone might have been friendly, but Maya noticed her eyes were wary. Bwani slid from his ilkama, and knelt on the ground before her.
‘Thank you for your blessings, Madam. We are honoured to be guests in Faia village. These eight men have been loyal to me over centuries, and this is Maya, Bluite-birthed, but raised by the Imomm tribe in the Hollow Hills.’
Mary looked upon Maya. Her eyes, although still wary, revealed some warmth.
‘Indeed, I have heard about Maya. The Scribes proved accurate in their description of your rising. The Awakener found you men all right!’ Mary spoke in the Tongue of All Worlds, but her Bluite accent sounded strange to Maya, in truth, I was with your mother on the night she conceived you with the Stag Man. Well, at a discreet distance, anyway!’ she laughed. Maya stared at her in shock; the High Priestess had known her mother?
‘Oh yes,’ Mary laughed, reading her mind. ‘She came to Faia village when she attended our Belthane rites on her way to the Wastelands. You are the result! Truth, you will always have a special connection to Faia. But Khartyn the Crone is the person to tell you that story, for Khartyn and Rosedark were her escorts on that dangerous journey.’
Excitement flared in Maya, as she looked into the impassive faces of the old woman and young girl beside Mary. A million questions formed within her, but Bwani interrupted.
‘Well, we are indeed fortunate, then!’ he said. ‘Khartyn is the perfect person for us to talk to, as we are planning a trip into the Wastelands.’
A small crease appeared above Mary’s eye. She glanced at Ano before she spoke. ‘That news does not come as a great surprise to me, but let us not discuss these matters in the open. The air has hungry cars and fleet feet. You are all welcome guests at Shell-home, and your ilkamas look as if they could do with a watering.’
Bwani nodded, his eyes reflective. ‘Thank you, my lady. But our ilkamas are not the only ones that could do with some cold liquid refreshment.’
Mary nodded, her hair glinting in the sunshine. ‘Good, then let us meet again to continue this discussion after you have rested and refreshed yourself.’ She turned on her heel and left, her purple veil flying behind her, and with her hasty departure back into the main door of Shellhome, a vital energy seemed to have left the courtyard. Bwani stared after her, closely scrutinised by Khartyn and Ano.
‘As milady wills,’ he said. Maya wondered silently to herself whether she were imagining the note of sarcasm in his voice.
*
Maya was delighting in the luxury of the main guest room that had been allocated to Bwani and herself when there was a tap at the door. She sat up abruptly from the bed, where she had been enjoying the pleasure of a mattress under her back. Her hair was unbound, and she hastily checked to make sure the front of her dress was decent when Edwen entered the room. The look he shot at Maya was faintly contemptuous, and she flushed angrily, realising the conclusion he had leapt to regarding her dishevelled appearance.
‘He’s bathing,’ she said coldly. Edwen ignored her, and walked into the adjoining bathroom, where Bwani was lying in a steaming tub of herbal water.
‘Don’t say it!’ Maya heard Bwani say to Edwen when he entered the room. ‘You are overreacting, Edwen! Give her time, she will come around.’
Maya’s ears pricked up, and she used her advanced sense of hearing, a talent the Imomm had taught her, to pick up every word as the men dropped their voices, ostensibly below earshot.
‘They won’t give their blessing!’ Edwen was arguing. ‘I could see the look on the old Hag’s face as you were talking. They will oppose us entering the Wastelands, as it will take the power away from them! You are crazy to even imagine they will help us here! When have they ever helped us, Bwani? They left us in that bloody cow paddock to rot as stones!’
‘That they did, but they provided us with the Virgins to protect and care for us, and give us moral support until the day we were reconstituted,’ Bwani answered sharply. ‘Ye are too hasty in judging these folk, Edwen! In my mind, it is better if we work together for control of the Eom. Khartyn and Rosedark are two of the few who have survived the Wastelands. They will have valuable information on the territory.’
‘Now I know you have gone out of your mind!’ snapped Edwen. ‘Didn’t you see the Webx among our welcoming committee? Do you really think the Webx people want the Wizards to reclaim the Eom?’
Bwani stood up and wrapped a towel around himself. There was a brief silence, and then Maya heard Edwen begin to laugh.
‘Has fucking that Faery softened you totally, Bwani? You are not seriously thinking of handing the Eom over to the Webx, old friend? Tell me you are not thinking of doing that!’
‘She is no Faery,’ Bwani said quietly. Ma
ya froze at the tone in his voice. ‘How quickly you forget! If it were not for Maya, you would still be standing out in all weathers encased in stone. Never mock her in my hearing again. We have stood next to each other for a long time now, Edwen. Do you really think I would hand the Eom over to the Webx?’
‘I think you no longer care for attaining the Eom as you once did,’ Edwen said. ‘I cannot understand you, Bwani! What have we been through, if not for the Eom! For pity’s sake! We crossed into the Web-Kondoell for the Eom! We were turned to stone for the Eom!’
‘Not for the Eom, for attempting to abduct Aphrodite!’ Bwani spat back. ‘We tampered with the Goddess and paid the price of her wrath. We underestimated the goddesses of this world in our arrogance, and it will not happen again. It is no coincidence that the Crone Khartyn and her apprentice are here. Who could supply better intelligence on the Wastelands than those two?’
‘If they decide to share their knowledge,’ Edwen replied. ‘Somehow, Bwani, I can’t see that happening. They might tolerate our company with polite faces and insipid remarks on the mild winter, but help us find our way to the Eom? Your feelings for that Fae — that woman, have weakened you, old friend.’
At dinner, a few hours later, Maya saw that Edwen’s statements had some truth to them. An almost perceptible aura of resentment seemed to shiver in the air. As Edwen had sourly predicted, the Faiaites were gracious in their hospitality, but their conversation remained fixed on safe general topics. If Bwani attempted to speak of the Azephim or the Wastelands, Mary would firmly but pleasantly return the subject to something more mundane.
The tension in the dining hall didn’t appear to have hindered anyone’s appetite, though. The Wizards were tucking heartily into the platters of spiced and curried vegetables and pulses, gorging themselves as if they had not eaten in seasons. Like all fare in Faia, the meal was simple and rustic in style, but the delicious vegetables could not be faulted. Many of them were unfamiliar to Maya.
Bride of the Stone: Circle of Nine Trilogy 2 Page 36
