Bride of the Stone: Circle of Nine Trilogy 2

by Josephine Pennicott

  Then the Eom spoke. The Azephim listened with impassive faces, their hands ready to kill. Their wings unfurled and, as one, they flew in a great pack towards the source of the voice. The Eom had spoken, and they were answering the call.

  *

  Khartyn watched in disbelief as the Amew council descended from the heavens. She had never seen so many Azephim together in one place, and it was an awe-inspiring sight. The Faiaites were huddled on the ground, screaming, their hands over their ears, attempting to block the sound of the angels’ voices in the belief they were about to be killed. Angel song had been known to kill Eronthites in the past. Mary stepped forward to block them from venturing near the angel pack, but Khartyn stopped her.

  ‘Wait,’ she said.

  A spokesperson for the Amew stepped forward. There was a lot of clicking from his throat, before he mastered the Tongue of All Worlds. He made an imposing sight with his stiff robes of pearl white, and his long white hair that hung in a ponytail down his back. His eyes were chips of ice, coldly surveying what he clearly regarded as an inferior race. ‘I am Jerimiah, chief of the Amew council,’ he said. ‘We come in peace, on an urgent mission on behalf of Seleza, High Priestess of Azephim, from the Web-Kondoell. It is not our intention to harm any Eronthite on this delegation, but we have little time, and will not hesitate to use force if necessary. We have been necessitated to use the Webeye to cross. We urgently require the services of Khartyn the Crone to assist us with a hatching.’

  ‘Khartyn?’ Mary said in astonishment. ‘What would she know of hatchings?’

  ‘I have assisted at them before, Mary,’ Khartyn reminded her. Her eyes sought out the rows of Amew, and they widened when she saw Sati standing among them, looking desperate, wings drooping, but unable to look Khartyn in the eye.

  ‘No, it’s impossible,’ Mary said. ‘We are facing our own emergency here, and the Crone is needed. Maya and Bwani will be in need of the energy Khartyn can give to them.’

  ‘I have to go,’ Khartyn broke in, to Rosedark’s dismay. ‘I think we have little choice anyway, Mary.’

  Mary began to protest, but stopped when she saw the expression on Khartyn’s face.

  ‘Please don’t go!’ Rosedark begged. ‘How do we know this is not a trap? The Amew will kill you as soon as you leave your friends! You are too old to be crossing into the Web. For Goddess’s sake, let me go in your place!’

  ‘No, the Web has been contaminated enough with aliens,’ the speaker from the Amew said. He held out his wings. ‘Come, Old One, I will put you to sleep, and you will never feel the crossing shock.’

  The group stood in horror as Khartyn made her way to the pack of cold-eyed angels. She could hear Rosedark’s sobs, and turned to face all those she had known and loved throughout her long life.

  ‘Merry Meet, Merry Part and Merry Meet,’ she said. ‘Prosperous Happy Harvest. I will return.’

  The angel moved towards her, and Khartyn recoiled as she felt its icy breath and body.

  ‘Sleep, Old Mother,’ it said. A small claw injected a sharp sting into Khartyn’s wrist. She fell into the wings of angels.

  The Lightcaster watched with fury in his eyes and heart. How had the old bitch done it? She had thwarted him again. He was so near, close enough to smell her rotten witch-blood, but she had evaded him by flying in the arms of the Fallen Ones. She had soared away into the air on the wings of Dark Angels, witch-whore that she was. There seemed to be no limit to her conniving. If he had needed any proof that Khartyn was one of the foulest witches he had encountered in all the centuries he had hunted them down, well now he had it. She was a powerful witch, indeed, to fly with the Azephim. His nostrils twitched, and he banged on his stomach in frustration. Why was Sati flying with them? Was the Azephim Queen making a mockery of him?

  He simmered, until his attention was taken by a certain scent among the congregation. His eyes darted frantically and his nose twitched with interest until he located the source. It was a girl, holding onto a Wizard’s arm, a man with claws for hands. She pointed into the sky, where the Crone had vanished only seconds before. The girl was beautiful, face pale with shock, vulnerable. He grinned, feeling that unmistakable lurch in his groin that told him a kill was near. She was not as powerful as the Dark One that she served, but she was reeking of the craft.

  He watched, smelling her, savouring her, a plan beginning to form. One word burnt into his brain, filling him with hate and loathing. Witch. Witch. Witch. No, she was not as powerful as the Crone, and in truth, that disappointment was sweet. But her blood and screams in his aura were bound to weaken the demonic one that he sought. Witch. Witch. Witch.

  *

  Khartyn was allowed very little time to readjust when she opened her eyes to find herself in the Web-Kondoell. She was conscious of a difference in the air, bur around her all was chaos. She soon realised she was in an Azephim Hatching Room. The air was uncomfortably warm, and Dark Angels were milling everywhere in anxious groups. Seleza was at the foot of the table, and Khartyn could smell her apprehension. On the table, held down by several Azephim was —! oh sweet Goddess. Khartyn closed her eyes briefly, feeling sadness and futility sweeping over her. A Faery! How could any Azephim have committed this atrocity to a Faery? The being’s eyes were wild with terror, her breath coming in huge panting gasps. Her tiny stomach was bulging abnormally as she struggled to expel the egg inside. Sweet Mother. Sweet moon.

  Beside her, Sati was crying, soft mewing sounds she couldn’t control. ‘Fenn! Oh Alecom! Fenn!’ The Azephim Queen limped over to the table, dispersing the angels that held the Faery down. ‘Fenn! Oh Alecom, forgive him for what he did to you!’

  ‘Jurma,’ Fenn said weakly. ‘Oh Jurma, I have been calling for you for so long. Why did you not come?’

  Jurma. Khartyn wondered for a second if she were dreaming. How could Sati have been mother to a Faery? She glanced over at Seleza.

  ‘We have little time,’ the High Priestess said. ‘You are the only person recommended to me who has already assisted at one of these hatchings. Can you deliver the egg?’ She hesitated, then added, almost as an afterthought, ‘And save the Faery?’

  The Crone approached the table and moved her hands over Fenn’s abdomen. She put her ear to the distended belly and listened carefully.

  ‘The occupant of the egg is still alive,’ she said, brushing Fenn’s hair gently. Sati looked up at her, and Khartyn saw that the Dark Queen’s eyes were still filling with tears. She was aware of the Azephim’s great displeasure at such emotion boldly expressed. The two of them would be lucky to escape with their lives.

  ‘Can you save her, Old Mother?’ Sati said, almost begging. ‘Can you do something? You delivered me. In Alecom’s name, can you save her?’

  Khartyn was shaking. She looked over at Seleza and shook her head sadly. ‘Hecate is here, I can feel her,’ she said.

  Sati began to sob and a member of the Amew came forward, the wings of the angel half erect. ‘You are contaminating the Hatching Grounds with your distress,’ he hissed. He tried to pull her away, but Khartyn held out her hand warningly.

  ‘She is Bindisore,’ she said. ‘Her ways are different from the full-bloods, and she needs to grieve.’

  ‘Please let me die,’ Fenn whispered. ‘The pain is so terrible. Please look after Jessie for me. I love you so much, Jurma. I was so sad when you banished me.’

  ‘I will kill Ishran for this,’ Sati promised. ‘There is nowhere he can run to escape me. I will kill him and all his new friends, Charmonzhla included.’ Exclamations of disgust and anger followed from the angels within earshot, and they looked to Seleza, outraged that she would allow such disrespect for the angoli to be voiced. The air became frigid, and the Amew began to turn their backs on the table. Rays of disapproval flashed from their bodies like lightning strikes.

  Khartyn began applying pressure to points scattered over Fenn’s abdomen, applying as much Crone-healing natural anaesthetic as she could release. She felt her mind shif
t easily into the healing realms, and she gratefully acknowledged the unseen healing presences that she could feel in the room. Fenn became silent as the pain abruptly shifted. Stepping back from the table, Khartyn began directing an immense flood of healing energy towards Fenn’s body. Great waves of white light transferred from her palms into the Faery. When she sensed the power was flagging, she turned to Seleza.

  ‘I will have to attempt to force the egg from her. If it is left inside her, they will both die.’

  ‘The egg has to survive,’ Seleza said through clenched fangs. ‘It is the Ghormho’s egg.’

  ‘The Ghormho should be held responsible for this,’ Khartyn said, attempting to keep her voice steady. ‘I am sickened by this result of his indiscriminate breeding.’

  ‘Silence, Crone,’ the Amew head, Jerimiah, said. ‘Show respect when you address the Azephim High Priestess.’

  ‘Let her speak,’ Seleza said. ‘I have no quarrel with the Crone. She is one of the few Faiaites to whom I would allow such familiarity.’

  The Amew council looked meaningfully at each other. Now she has gone too far, exalting this imperfect being, creature of a race that manufactures and worships goddesses and gods. ‘Why are we discussing this with a Faiaite?’ Rashka snarled. ‘They are not worthy to speak with the pure Dark Bloods. Let the Faery die, and if the Ghormho’s egg doesn’t survive, it will be no great loss to our race. It is not pure blood anyway. I should crush her throat with my jaws and let her sink into oblivion peacefully.’

  ‘Spoken as a true Azephim,’ Khartyn said smoothly. She returned her hands to the Faery’s stomach, gently prodding the bulging flesh.

  ‘Come on, little one,’ she said. ‘Let go of it, release it. Stop holding on.’

  ‘What are you doing!’ Sati screamed.

  ‘Be quiet, Sati!’ Seleza ordered. ‘She is attempting to get the Faery to pass the egg.’

  ‘She is not!’ Sati yelled, her face bloated with emotion. ‘She is trying to get her to release her sparrow!’

  Seleza moved forward to stop Khartyn, but it was too late. Looking upwards at Sati, Fenn whispered weakly, ‘Please, please kill the Faeries in the laboratory, release them. And look after Jessie.’

  The Crone’s hand was upon her chest. Fenn jerked upwards once, turned her eyes upon Sati, and died.

  Sati screamed. It was an unearthly sound that travelled the course of the Web, moving quickly along the shining light strands that encircled Kondoell. Every angel heard the call, and felt their blood churn in response to the alien vibration of pure grief.

  ‘Seize her!’ Seleza screamed. The guards in the corner moved forward, holding protective shields to deflect any magic that Khartyn might send to them.

  ‘Wait!’ Khartyn moved fast enough to catch all the angels off guard. She plunged her hands inside the vagina of Fenn, stretching the labia open with her hands. They stopped, unsure of how to react . . . No angel dared risk damaging the Ghormho egg. Placing her arm inside, she carefully began to extract a large black egg from the Faery’s womb. The Amew frowned at this unorthodox procedure, while Sati lay over Fenn, still sobbing. Rashka snarled with frustration, fixing Khartyn with a look of hate. Khartyn began to half sob in desperation as the egg stuck, refusing to budge. The membranous fluids of Fenn caused her hands to slip.

  ‘Careful, Crone,’ Seleza warned, her wings twitching, the only outward sign of her tension. Khartyn nodded, still intent on her task. Using her craft, she cut into the vaginal lips with her mind, releasing the egg. With a rush and a loud squelching sound, it came out to a collective gasp from the onlookers. Immediately Jerimiah stepped forward and took the egg from Khartyn, muttering an incantational blessing as he did so. Seleza fought to control the look of relief and triumph on her face, reluctant to display unbridled emotion even in the Hatching Grounds.

  ‘Quickly,’ she said, her voice thicker than usual. ‘Let us take it outside, and I will hatch it personally.’ Outside in the Hatching Grounds, the air was warmer. There hundreds of the large black eggs lay in their various stages of incubation. Seleza spent a lot of her time perched on towers of eggs, sometimes laying her own, sometimes warming those laid by others. It was one of the chief roles of the High Priestess, although under Azephim Law, all who were engaged in the task of hatching were considered equal.

  In the excitement, the Azephim now ignored Khartyn, who was bent over, hyperventilating with exhaustion and emotion. She had attended other hatchings over the centuries, and her spirit was weary with having to give the mothers bearing the Dark Ones’ seed over to Hecate. She found her way over to Sati, and placed a gnarled and wrinkled hand on her former apprentice’s shoulder. Sati looked up at Khartyn, eyes filled with an ancient grief.

  ‘Why, Old Mother?’ she cried. ‘She was my only child! Why couldn’t we have saved her?’ Khartyn shook her head. ‘I took her sparrow out so she didn’t have to endure the torment of delivering the egg. You do understand that, don’t you?’

  There was a loud cry from the Azephim, who had been gathered around Seleza to take the egg outside to the grounds. Khartyn whirled around. In horror she saw that the egg was cracking.

  ‘The Ghormho is hatching too soon, Crone!’ Seleza called. Her lips had gone white, ‘In the name of Alecom, do something! It is coming too soon!’

  Khartyn shook her head. She felt a terrible dark wing of uneasiness brush inside her at this unexpected turn of events, it is the right time for the Ghormho,’ she said. ‘I am powerless to stop the incarnation.’

  The attention of the room focused on the egg as the outer shell fell away. There was a shocked silence, and then Rashka began to laugh hysterically.

  ‘Alecom save us all!’ shouted Jerimiah. There was a strangled half scream from Seleza; the occupant of the egg was opening its mouth with a small cry. An unearthly sound filled the room, and Khartyn feared her eardrums were about to shatter. Placing her hands over her ears, she glanced around at the Azephim cowering against the walls. Blood was trickling from some of the Dark Angels’ ears, a vivid ray of colour against their opaque robes.

  The Eom was making the horrendous sound, Khartyn realised with horror. The Azephim had the Eom in the Web, and now it was expressing its pleasure at the birth. It was calling with maternal pride to the occupant of the egg. Seleza moved towards Khartyn, her fangs beginning to protrude from her jaws.

  ‘What have you done, Crone?’ she screamed. ‘You black-hearted old bitch! What sorcery is this?’

  Khartyn shook her head, her heart palpitating in fear at the murderous rage in Seleza’s eyes. She could taste her own death in her mouth as she backed slowly away from the Amew. It was not possible, but the impossible had happened.

  Everything was confusion and panic. An unfamilar sound was coming from some of the angels’ throats, the sound of screaming. Several of them had fallen to the floor, where they writhed in agony, hands to their ears. Sati ignored all the chaos; she sobbed over Fenn’s body, her tears becoming white rose petals upon the small body. Her long black hair was streaked with Fenn’s blood.

  ‘My child!’ she screamed. ‘Forgive me, my child!’

  The angels ignored her shocking display of grief. They slowly backed away from the egg, which lay on the floor where Seleza had hurriedly placed it when it had begun to hatch. Khartyn found herself shoulder to shoulder with Seleza and Rashka. She had her hands over her ears, but she could feel warm blood trickling between her fingers. Sweet Dreamers, we are all going to die! She felt an enormous pang of regret that she had not said goodbye properly to Rosedark and to her beloved friends in Eronth. Why now, when there was so much more healing work to be done? Why was her death so unexpected, so unwanted, after all these centuries?

  Everywhere, angels were being sucked into the Web. They rose screaming into the air as the light rays flashed around them, stripping them of bones, feathers and flesh in seconds.

  ‘Do something, Jurma!’ Rashka’s voice screamed like the wind. Her dyed blonde hair whipped upwards around her
head. If they weren’t in such danger, Khartyn might have found the sight amusing. Seleza was moaning, blood running from her ears and nostrils, as some of the Amew tried to keep her upright. Khartyn attempted to make her way over to the High Priestess to apply healing energy, but the pain in her head was so great she could only double over and watch her blood drip slowly onto the floor.

  The thing that had been inside the egg began to move, allowing the terrified angels a closer view of it. Shuffling slowly to its feet, it reached up to the Amews’ waists. Wings shot out of its spine, dark green, vivid pink, and black. They flexed instinctively, as if born to the art of movement. Flecks of blood from its hatching flew into the air. The Eom called to it, singing, encouraging. A head emerged from the shining black crystal body — tiny. Faery, and knowing.

  It has Fenn’s face, Khartyn thought, as fresh pain shot through her head. She was beginning to feel weak from loss of blood. Fenn’s face, Fenn’s eyes. Fenn’s silver Faery hair. Now its mouth was open, and it was crying for its mother through tiny razor teeth. Crying, head turning, looking for its mother. Suddenly it rose into the air with a scream, so quickly that Khartyn could hardly make it out. Some angels in its path were shredded to pieces with claws that emerged from tiny hands on either side of its body. Shards of their bodies flew into the air, some bits into the open screaming mouths of the spectactors, before they were mercifully suctioned into the Web.

  The sound of the Eom was intensified as the newly hatched being escaped, almost too quickly for the witnesses’ minds to register what was happening. There was a huge note of discordant sound from the Eom and then, horribly, the sound of Azephim screaming in fear. Afterwards, at last, silence. Blessed, merciful silence, broken only by Sati’s sobbing.

  Khartyn lay slumped against the wall, her legs giving way beneath her, darkness enveloping her. The last sound she heard before she collapsed to the floor was Seleza’s scream: