Scenting Hallowed Blood

by Constantine, Storm

  Shemyaza gazed beyond her gigantic form, out into the void. He gathered his will within him, and threw out his arms. Filled with a sense of power, he commanded the sphere of Da’ath to appear before him. It was there, an eclipsed sun, a ring of white fire around the ultimate dark.

  He streaked towards it like an exploding star.

  Shemyaza opened his eyes and found himself enveloped in a dim red light. He became aware of the crystal all around him, and the last fading echoes of a howling wind, the chill of the void. The crystal still held him in stasis, but he murmured within his mind. ‘Release me. I am ready.’

  The light dimmed to a red hue, and the weight of the stone seemed to lift from his body. A low, humming sound slyly invaded the silence of the crystal. Shemyaza tried to move his limbs and found that he could walk forward. It was like swimming through liquid glass. Something seemed to crack around him, and he was aware of cold air, and a slow, slithering sound, as of gigantic coils being dragged across wet stone. He looked back, and saw that he had passed completely through the crystal, which had returned to its original translucent state. He turned away. Now another tunnel lay before him, waiting for his feet to tread its worn floor. Red light spilled out from it, but it was not fire.

  Shemyaza straightened his spine and walked forward, into the light. He felt empty of all feeling, and had become simply a purpose: to wake the serpent. Time no longer had any meaning. He could have walked for mere seconds or over an hour, but eventually he emerged into another cavern that was far greater in size than the crystal chamber. A searing heat gusted around him, accompanied by a deep, roaring hiss. There could be no physical serpent here, surely? The Shamir was a symbol of the giants’ power, nothing more. It would be a crystal, waiting to be energised, a blue flame to be rekindled. Its shrine would be decorated with ophidian symbols and talismans, and maybe a nest of vipers would curl around it, jealously guarding it from harm.

  He was wrong.

  The Shamir. Its head filled the cavern before him, the size of a fifteen storey building, while its body disappeared into the labyrinth of tunnels beyond. It was the colour of smouldering embers, and its eyes were filmed with a milky sheath. Around it lay drifts of discarded skin, which still hung down in rags from its gigantic yet elegant head. It emanated a musky, reptilian stench. Shemyaza halted before it, in wonder and terror. How could this creature be real? Its breath was like a hot, living hurricane against his skin.

  Words burst up through Shemyaza’s body, words that had perhaps been waiting for millennia to be spoken. ‘Father, I am here.’

  Only one eye was visible from where Shemyaza stood. At his words, it blinked open abruptly, and golden light flared out to bathe him in a blazing radiance. The eye was the size of a cathedral, emanating the light of sacred power. This was no blind snake. Shemyaza knew that it could see him, right into him, and that it was very much awake. Sluggish, maybe, but gathering power with every passing moment. Shemyaza felt hypnotised by its gaze. He was drawn towards the wondrous eye. Looking into it was like gazing into the sun, but it did not hurt at all.

  His head was filled with the booming yet soundless words of the Shamir. ‘The sun of my eye sees the sun of thy soul. Our light together, my son, will be whole. Take thy true form, a serpent, as me, and come forth, for I have dreamed of thee.’

  Shemyaza felt then, the first stirrings of the inevitable transformation within his body. It wracked his entire being with feelings he could not describe, although they seemed weirdly familiar. Gradually, his flesh filled with a sensation of ecstasy. Golden light streamed from his eyes and from the pores of his skin. Every fibre, every cell, shifted and advanced onto a higher genetic level — an evolution that should take millions of years to achieve. And yet, despite being aware of this, Shemyaza also knew that the form he was transforming into was a return to a primal state that transcended the boundaries of earth history. He could feel his body stretching, his neck elongating, his face and limbs becoming longer. The desperate ache of yearning, which had yoked him for twelve thousand years lifted from his soul. A sense of limitless freedom filled his body, heart and mind as if he had drunk deeply from a holy grail. All the knowledge ever guarded by his ancestors flooded into his brain, and his perception was dominated by a vision of the constellation of Orion, the heavenly lights of the prison from which Daniel had released him. Beyond Orion, he beheld the stars of immeasurable galaxies. His new form possessed the power to cross vast distances and dimensions, to ride the stars. It had the instinctual ability to fold space and time to its will. Now, he was a keeper of the universe and a bestower of evolution. He was pure life force in its most potent form, sent forth from the source to propagate the schemes and cycles of whole universes. He was a god.

  Shemyaza, serpent man, stood before the immense, gaping mouth of the Shamir. ‘Father, I come unto thee, for the black sun is rising and the time of reckoning is now.’

  The Shamir exhaled a hurricane of breath. ‘Thy shape is as me, the seed of life, from the creator be, to fertilise this world, the earth through she, a timeless voyage across morphic sea.’

  Shemyaza rose up on his golden coils and slid like a shaft of light into the waiting mouth of the Shamir. His destiny was sealed.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Flight of the Serpent

  On the beach below the Lion’s Head, Tamara waited at the entrance to the underworld, standing on stiff, splayed legs, her arms held out above her head. She was the sacred whore, waiting to ride the seven-headed serpent. She would ride its power, take it, direct it. Already she could sense its consciousness waking up below her. The landscape around her was unnaturally still and silent. No birds sang, even though dawn was fast approaching. The sea looked turbid, restless, but there were hardly any waves. Then, the ground began to shake. It was as if an army of horsemen were galloping up through the earth from a deep cavern; the sound of thunder. Delmar whimpered in consternation, and Tamara was hard-pressed to keep her stance upon the rock. ‘Go down to the beach,’ she said.

  Delmar scampered down the stony incline and crouched behind a large rock, gazing up at her. Tamara began to utter a monotonous chant, calling the serpent to her. The sound of the earth-thunder became louder, drowning out her words. Tamara shrieked her invocation, and then the face of the Lion exploded outwards. Tamara’s shouted words became a shriek of horror. For a moment, she saw the gigantic head of the serpent looking out at her, then its jaws dropped open and it lunged forward, swallowing her as a horse might swallow a mayfly.

  Below, Delmar cringed back against the rock. He saw the great body of the Shamir coil out of the cliff-face and shoot towards the sea. Over the troubled ocean, it became a streak of red-golden light that crashed against the chapel on St Michael’s Mount. The Mount glowed as if it was on fire, its chapel had become a ball of radiance, emanating blistering spears of white light. It was happening! The serpent power was coming alive! But something was wrong. Where was Tamara? She was not riding its power as she’d promised. And where was Shemyaza? Even as Delmar stared out to sea, the sky became black; the stars, the moon, were all eclipsed. And then the sun reared above the horizon, but it was not the dawn that Delmar knew. This was a black sun, ringed with crimson fire. The sea heaved and shuddered beneath its hellish glow, and the water began to recede from the beach, faster than Delmar had ever seen it. The sea was leaving the land. His element! He would die! Delmar shrank back against the rock as hard as he could and covered his head with his hands. It had happened all wrong.

  Aninka, still with her face pressed against the panes of the French windows at High Crag, saw the sky go black. She felt sick, dizzy, yet also full of energy. She had to smell the air. What would it smell like? She opened the windows and stepped out into the garden, which was dark, yet lit with a spectral glow. Aninka was drawn to the cliff edge, as if in a dream. Part of her was afraid that she’d be unable to resist throwing herself over, as Shemyaza had done. Yet she could not fight the impulse to go there.

 
As she put her hands upon the crumbling rock wall, the black sun lifted above the horizon. Aninka stared at it in amazement. She should not be able to see, because there was no light, yet everything around her stood out in stark relief, as if releasing light from within. She heard a sound, and looked down to the beach. A girl was down there, scrabbling around in the sand, and a male figure with pale hair lay stretched out beside her. Aninka’s first thought was that the male was Shemyaza. She ran along the wall and presently found the steep wooden stairway that led down to the beach. It was very difficult to move quickly, for the thick air was almost impossible to breathe, yet she knew she had to reach the girl and her companion quickly.

  In her stockinged feet, Aninka ran across the damp sand. She glanced at the sea, and saw that it had retreated beyond the horizon. What was happening? Fear drummed at her courage. Hurry. Hurry. She felt both excitement and dread.

  The girl looked up at her in terror as she approached. Aninka could only gasp out, ‘The house! The house! Come quickly!’

  ‘No,’ the girl answered. ‘I must find the shell!’

  ‘What shell? Don’t be stupid! You must leave this place!’

  The girl pursed her lips and pushed her hair back behind her ears. ‘Here, it’s here... somewhere... I must find it.’ She began to dig like a frantic puppy. Then she uttered a startled yelp.

  Aninka watched in fascinated horror as the girl’s hands plunged deeply into the wet sand, as if it had no more substance than air. It seemed as if the beach itself were sucking the girl downwards. Quicksand? Aninka leapt forward and grabbed the girl by the shoulders, ignoring the shriek of protest. It felt as if a hundred strong hands were holding onto the girl’s slender wrists. Aninka could not pull her free. A blue vapour began to stream up from the sand, curling around their struggling bodies like incense smoke. Should I leave her here? Aninka thought. Should I save myself? She glimpsed the girl’s terrified face within the veil of her threshing wet hair. No. Aninka could not simply leave her. With this realisation, the ground abruptly released its hold on its captive and both she and Aninka fell backwards. Aninka quickly scrambled to her feet. The girl knelt before her on hands and knees, her body shuddering with silent sobs. In her hands, like an icon, she held a perfect cowry shell.

  ‘Now!’ Aninka cried. ‘Hurry!’ She dashed past the kneeling girl and lifted the male figure in her arms, seeing at once that it was not Shemyaza. Was it still that important to carry him to safety? The girl had now leapt to her feet and was attempting to drag the young man from Aninka’s arms.

  ‘No, let him go! Let him go!’

  ‘Don’t be stupid!’ Aninka gasped. ‘You’re in danger! Come with me now!’

  ‘I don’t know you...’ the girl began, but Aninka interrupted her.

  ‘For Shem ‘s sake, look at the sea! Look!’

  The girl turned her head and froze. The tide was returning, but in height and power. A wall of water was gathering on the horizon, beyond the empty reaches of sand. Its crest glittered red beneath the black sun. ‘Oh my god!’

  ‘Run!’ Aninka screamed. ‘Run!’

  Both women fled towards the cliff stair, Aninka carrying the boy over her shoulder. They seemed to possess preternatural strength in their fear, and all but flew up the rickety stairs. At the garden wall, Aninka glanced back and felt her heart contract in awe and horror. The wave was surging towards the land, rearing higher into the sky with each moment. Surely High Crag could not resist such an elemental onslaught, but where else could they seek shelter?

  ‘Quickly!’ she cried and led the way back to the house. She could see the French windows hanging open and uttered a groan of despair. What barrier could fragile glass provide against tons of water? Would they be safer in the attics or the cellars?

  As they drew nearer, Enniel appeared at the window, gesturing for her to hurry. ‘Where have you been? Get in here!’ His face was drawn and tense. Aninka virtually threw herself against him, gabbling a string of nonsensical words.

  ‘Be calm, Ninka. We must work together.’ He pulled the girl into the house behind her.

  ‘The house will be destroyed! We’ll drown!’

  Enniel ignored her words and closed the windows. Aninka was barely aware of the weight of the boy on her shoulder. The girl stood beside her, wide-eyed in silent terror, the cowry shell still held in both hands.

  ‘Come, upstairs,’ Enniel ordered.

  Aninka followed him. Her legs felt weak. She was aware of the power and weight of the wave gathering behind her. How could they hope to survive it?

  As they moved through the tense air of the house, Aninka saw that all her relatives, all the ancients who hid or dreamed within the catacomb of rooms had emerged from their sanctuaries. They thronged the corridors in silent lines, humming softly beneath their breath.

  ‘Station yourselves at every point of entry,’ Enniel said to them.

  He led Aninka and her companions to the top storey of the house, where gabled windows looked out from the wide, empty attics. Here, the Parzupheim had already gathered. Aninka dropped her burden on the floor, and the girl hurried over to lift the boy’s body in her arms. Aninka ran to one of the small windows and looked out. Her mouth filled with saliva at what she saw; she wanted to vomit.

  The sea, a citadel of crushing water, was moving slowly, so slowly, towards the land. She tried to estimate how far over the cliff-top it would tower, but it was impossible to guess. It seemed the sky was blotted out by the rearing wave. Aninka thought of drowned Lyonesse, subject of so many childhood tales. Was Cornwall doomed to follow its sister kingdom into the sea? She wiped her numb lips convulsively, and then felt Enniel’s calm hand upon her shoulder.

  ‘Enniel, it’s hopeless. What are we doing here? We should be driving away from this place as fast as we can. We’d have more chance.’

  ‘Have faith, Ninka,’ Enniel said softly, and kissed her hair. ‘We will create our own barrier of protection.’

  Aninka gestured weakly at the sight beyond the window. ‘Against that? Are you serious? Oh, Great Shem, we shouldn’t be up here. We should be in the cellars, or would that be worse?’

  ‘Aninka, you must calm down,’ Enniel said sharply. ‘Allow yourself to trust me.’

  Aninka uttered a sad bitter laugh.

  ‘Look around you,’ Enniel continued. ‘The strongest Grigori of all the kingdoms of Albion are here to safeguard you. Don’t be afraid. This is just a memory of the Great Deluge replaying in the mind of the earth.’

  Aninka could not believe what the evidence of her eyes contested. The water was real and solid, no dream. ‘I just hope it’s quick,’ she said. Her eyes were drawn back to the window, in morbid fascination. The sight was incredible, beautiful and terrible. The weight of the water, she thought. The weight of the water. Her knees gave way. Staggering, she backed into the centre of the room. The Parzupheim had formed a circle, and Aninka went to crouch with the girl she had found on the beach, who still held the boy in her lap.

  ‘I’m afraid,’ the girl whispered.

  Aninka put her hand on the girl’s shoulder. ‘So am I.’

  ‘Are you Grigori?’ the girl asked her.

  Aninka nodded. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Do you know Shem?’

  Aninka was surprised. ‘Yes. Do you?’

  ‘Of course. I know him very well.’ Her face crumpled. ‘Is he dead? Oh God, what’s happening?’

  ‘Are you Lily?’ Aninka asked her. ‘Lily Winter?’

  The girl’s face was creased up in fear. The question seemed to annoy her. ‘Yes. Yes. Oh, what does it matter? We’ve no chance! None!’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Aninka said. ‘These men here are the most powerful of Grigori. They’ll protect us.’ She wished she could believe it herself.

  The wave was at the cliff now, towering up what looked like a hundred feet above it. From outside, High Crag would look dwarfed beneath it, a feeble match-stick construction that could be crushed and washed away by only a gallon of water.
The Parzupheim were chanting steadily, constructing a cone of power around the building.

  It won’t be enough, Aninka thought. It won’t be enough.

  ‘Let it happen quickly,’ Lily Winter said suddenly. ‘I can’t bear it.’ She buried her head against Aninka’s side. The attic was filled with a dark green light. Slowly, Aninka turned her head and forced herself to look out of the window. All she could see was water, water that seemed to defy gravity, flowing upwards. It must only be feet away from the house. She screamed, unable to help herself, for the power of the wave was the naked face of death, inexorable. Then, she saw a flash of white and, with an explosion of sound, the wave crashed down upon them.

  On the cliff-top at the bottom of the Penhaligon garden, the Pelleth witnessed the Shamir explode out of the cliff and shoot towards the Mount. Their dancing and chanting became wild, ecstatic, but was short-lived. As soon as Meggie saw the black sun rise, and the tide retreat, she knew what would follow. The sea would exact a price from the land. She looked quickly at Daniel. Could she sacrifice him now? Would the offering of Shemyaza’s vizier be enough to satisfy the Serpent Mother, so that she would curb the wild horses of the foam, and not throw them against the land?

  Daniel seemed to sense her thoughts and glanced at her sharply. He was standing tense and still, as if removed from the wild proceedings around him. ‘You want me to be your scapegoat,’ he said.

  Meggie said nothing.

  ‘That was not a question,’ Daniel continued. ‘Shall I leap from the cliff for you?’

  ‘Would you do that willingly?’ Meggie couldn’t help asking.

  Daniel shrugged. ‘My purpose for living has gone. Yes, I will do that, if you think it will do any good.’

  Meggie stepped up to him and put her hands on his arms. She could feel the life thrumming through his body. ‘No, it would not be right,’ she said. She glanced over her shoulder at the horizon. ‘Daniel, you still have purpose. Take my people to safety. I trust they will find sanctuary with you.’