Bwani swallowed, his unwillingness to look death in the face making him long to scream, to flee. ‘I stand before the Keeper of the Keys with empty hands,’ he said finally. ‘Death came too soon to me. I was not prepared.’
The figure behind the black veils laughed softly. ‘They are never prepared. I have had kings and commoners, whores and witches. I have had children and demons, and people from all known faiths from all the known worlds come to me unawares. Very few have offerings when they stand at the crossroads.’ The large keys around her waist jangled. ‘In days long past they would bring me suppers of goats, cheese, bread, fish, eggs and rue. But the memory of the one who holds the keys is slipping from the mind of people. I have become myth, a breath of air. No longer am I offered sacrifices of dogs and lamb. People have forgotten the Mother of Monsters who holds the key to occult mysteries around her waist.’
‘You are not forgotten in Eronth,’ Bwani said. ‘There you are held in great respect and fear.’ The veiled figure in front of him nodded her head slowly.
‘For now,’ she conceded. ‘But Eronth is changing. As the thought pattern of the old gods, goddesses, and the old ways weakens on other worlds, so the weakening ripples across this world of Eronth. Eronth will crumble. It will fall to the sea and the ancient sea gods will erase the memory of the landed gods as they have done before. The primitive ones of the sea are patient, they have seen stars birthed from below their watery homes, witnessed their kingdoms ravished and their children slaughtered by land dwellers. But soon they will rise. Their hearts beating in time to the Eom, which is now charging, seeking to dislodge the venom that has built up inside it over time. Eronth will fall before water and the memory of the ancient earth ones lost to time.’
‘Surely you will never be lost?’ Bwani said. ‘As long as there is poem and song? Will your form not be kept alive through the layscops?’
The figure in front of him sighed. ‘Diluted, perhaps, but already we have been diminished enough. Once before, you and your men chose to relinquish the hospitality given freely to you in bygone Eronth when you took advantage of the innocent hearts of the people of this land. You caused much damage. It was the Circle of Nine who by carrying the Eom from the Web-Kondoell, encouraged the Azephim to Cross. But you know the devastation that followed your actions. Now the skies overhead are darkening, and the giants of this land grow restless. Now we are faced with new peril as the child of the Eom seeks to release the plagues enclosed within the Eom’s belly.’
Bwani frowned, attempting to make sense of her words. ‘Child of the Eom? How could this be? I do not follow your meaning.’
‘The Crone will explain it to you. There is little time.’
So he was not to die after all. Relief flooded through him, followed by a flicker of irrational disappointment. He had merely been called to assist the goddesses.
The veiled figure moved closer. Instinctively, he took a step back. A smell came from her, musty, timeless, slightly rotten. The wolves that lay near her feet looked up at him with knowing eyes.
‘Do not allow the ego to jerk you like a puppet,’ she said. For a terrified moment, he thought he glimpsed a flash of her eye beneath the black veils. He put a hand up in front of his face to avoid looking on her directly.
‘You will not accompany me to the Underworld this time, but I am always close to you, waiting. Our next visit may be nearer than you think.’ A wolf howled.
Bwani summoned his courage to ask, ‘Is Maya safe? Is she in the Underworld?’
‘She is in the Underworld.’
At Bwani’s horrified moan Hecate put up a warning hand. ‘Save your tears, she has not yet reached the Pool of Memory, but instead rests at a dimension of Tartarus. She has no coins to pay the ferryman, and waits for you among the ghosts of the dead. My harpies carried her to their nests, to give her sanctuary from the Sea Hags and Lightcaster. I ordered it — I cannot afford to have you frail and useless with grief. Besides, it was not her time. The Norns had long before thrown out her thread of destiny.’
‘Can I go to her?’ Bwani blurted out. ‘Can I see her now?’
‘Yes, my wolves will take you to your bride. Remember this, Bwani, the gods will demand a price for the occult grace you have been afforded today. I will have my offering. Before Maya even incarnated into Eronth, she has pledged her life to me. I will accompany her to the ferryman when she is thirty-three Turns of the Wheel.’
‘I have no knowledge of this pledge,’ Bwani said. His initial joy that Maya was alive was now evaporating under this terrible information.
‘I will have my offering from you still,’ Hecate repeated. Bwani sensed a grim smile under her dark veils. ‘You must locate the Crone Khartyn. She will be able to assist you and she will know how to call Medea. You will need her magical arts for the battle ahead. But be careful how you tread. The Berserkers are growing restless and the evil hounds have been released in Faia. The Wild Hunt will capture main souls for the Underworld. You will need all your strength and cunning, and a pure heart. Perhaps you are not equal to the task.’
Bwani ignored the jibe. ‘Does Mary, High Priestess of Faia, know of what you speak?’ he asked.
‘She has acquired knowledge, but too late, alas, to help Eronth,’ Hecate replied. ‘The ones you knew as Mary, Ano and Rosedark have made the crossing through my sacred veils. They have not yet the currency to pay their passage across the Styx. When you pass the miserly Charon, give him his payment to protect them from the three-headed dog Cerberus and aid their passage into the world of Tartarus.’
After his years enclosed in stone, Bwani had often wondered if he had any emotions left save his love for Maya. But now he felt deep shock at Hecate’s pronouncements. ‘They are dead?’ he said. ‘All three? How? What dark truths fall so casually from your lips with so little thought to the nightmare they bring me? Speak, Mother of Monsters — how have my friends met their end? How can I avenge their deaths?’
He sank to his knees in front of the goddess, fighting to control the unexpected emotion that coursed through him. ‘Little Rosedark. Wise Mary, and loyal Ano. How can these words be true? Or are you cold Morpheus and this is all a terrible dream? I have heard Hecate can send demons to torment men’s dreams and drive us mad!’ He struck his head with his hands.
Hecate watched Bwani as he struggled to compose himself. ‘Yes, it is true that if men lack balance I can drive their senses from them. But I have many functions. I illuminate the present, pierce the darkness and give warning or promise of the future. You grieve for your friends because you view death as an ending. Yet nothing dies. Birth and death are but thresholds, crossings back and forth through my veils. You fear this transition, therefore you fear me. I have been demonised over time in the known worlds, many of my functions long forgotten.’
She shimmered in front of his eyes — now she had three heads and three bodies, a bear, a dog and a mare. In one of her hands she held a burning torch, another hand reached for the dagger that hung around her waist and sliced it through the air in front of Bwani’s face. ‘With my dagger I cut through your delusions, power and judgment. I slice through your fear, to aid me to unlock the most holy of occult mysteries. Go in peace to escort your Maya home from the world of the dead. The body snatchers will allow you to move between the worlds when they see my wolves accompany you. Walk quickly. Do not examine too closely anything you see. Occult knowledge may prove dangerous to you, and madness can result. If ghosts call to you, ignore their cries; they will be seeking a warm breathing body to inhabit. You will be able to locate the body snatchers by their stench. Do not drink from the Pool of Memory in any of the worlds you might enter, or else you will forget all that has gone before and Maya will be lost for all time, neither living nor dead. Mention nothing of what you see afterwards. It is unwise to allude to the names of the shadow dwellers in idle conversation.’
With these words she vanished, and Bwani was left staring uneasily at six silver wolves that regarded him with dead,
hollow eyes. They circled him, panting heavily and his heart heat harder against his chest. How was he to control these wild beasts? Without Hecate, what would prevent them from ripping him to pieces? That is, if he didn’t die of fear first. He focused his thoughts on Maya and how she must he feeling, which gave him the courage to stand still as the giant wolves circled and took scent of the air. The urge to flee, or even to lash out at them in self-defence, was overwhelming.
‘You seek to run with the wolves into the land of shadows?’ The largest wolf stood before him, and it was moments before Bwani realised it was addressing him. He stared into its empty eye sockets.
‘I do,’ Bwani said, ‘but I don’t know how to cross the veils.’
The wolf sniffed the air again, as if testing his words. ‘You are afraid. All are afraid when they are born, as they fear their crossing when they die. Wolves and dogs remember, unlike two-leggeds. It is easier for us.’
Bwani had no wish to debate the superiority of either race regarding sensitivity to transition states. He began to wonder if Hecate was merely playing with him, like a cat with a cockroach. The wolves began to howl, and Bwani felt a scream rise within him. He expected at any moment to feel their large jaws at his throat.
‘I am Adolph; this is my pack,’ the wolf said. ‘We act now for the Mother of Monsters. Do you have the strength to run with the dead wolves?’
Bwani nodded, furious with himself for the terror he couldn’t help displaying. It wasn’t the monstrous appearance of the wolves — he had faced many fantastical creatures and demons in his lifetime — but the thought of entering the world of the dead that was panicking him. The desire to live was so strong in his veins that he even began to wonder if he should just return to Faia.
Adolph’s empty eyes fixed on him with disdain. How the wolf managed to get expression into sockets that were empty of his long-rotted eyes was beyond Bwani. ‘Remember, do not respond to any cries when we walk among the shadows,’ Adolph said. ‘Many ghosts long for life, and there are living beings there, taken by the body snatchers. Stop to help them and you will be lost. Hecate will not be able to help you — too many gods and goddesses from all known worlds hold sway in the Underworld.’
Bwani nodded to show the wolf he understood. The pack padded closer around him, circling slowly They began to howl eerily. Close and closer, fur, skin, the smell of death. The howling was inside his head, his heart. It was moving in his chest. Bwani tipped back his head and howled, joining in the chorus. As he did so, he felt a release. A female wolf pushed against him and he sniffed her before he realised what he was doing. Then they were moving together as a pack, Adolph leading the way, the rest of them bounding behind him. Bwani felt a sense of total freedom. He was down on all fours running, but he was still in his own body.
They ran for what seemed an endless length of time. As his feet moved across the earth, Bwani began to forget the emotions inflaming him to locate his bride. All of what had passed before seemed meaningless compared to this heady run with the wolves. They moved across freshly churned earth, on grasses that smelt so strong and sweet he could have spent a lifetime taking in their delicious odour. The pack moved through oceans where the creatures of the sea seemed to melt before him. They ran across a great sky of flames, howling in excitement as their fur singed, but never once did their pace falter. They ran through night, and day. Through time, through memory and through dreams. Then abruptly, the pack stopped and Bwani looked around in confusion. Where was he? What was he? What was he looking at? Slowly the scene in front of him seeped into his consciousness. They were on the banks of a river, lined with weeping willow, yew and cypress, their branches and leaves snaking into the still water. The scene was one of peace and tranquillity, the black waters reflecting all that was along the shores, including the pack of wolves. There was an old man, so ancient his skin appeared to be parched and dry like a mummified Egyptian’s. He looked even older than a Crone of Faia. Parts of his body didn’t exist; he was transparent in places. His silver hair was long, falling in a ponytail to his knees. In areas of his scalp he was bald. His faded purple robe contained symbols embroidered in a dark green. His face was morose, twisted and bitter. Resting gently in the river was a small wooden sailing boat. The hull was covered in shells intertwined with dark ivy leaves. Bwani realised he was looking at Charon the miser, who must be paid to ferry the dead into the world of shadows. There was a terrible blackness along the bank where the wolves stood, and Bwani realised this darkness was a huddle of spirits. He wondered if they had been unable to pay the miser for their journey, or perhaps had died without a proper burial. They rose like leaves blown into the air, twisting about, shrieking for release. Charon ignored them all, his gaze fixed on the wolf pack. Bwani looked closer and was surprised to find that the miser had no eyes. Small onions rested in the sockets instead.
‘Have you come to pay the fare?’ Charon called, his voice cracked and tinny. The spirits screamed even louder at the mention of the word fare.
‘Don’t look at them,’ cautioned Adolph. ‘All around us are disease, hunger, war and madness. This is the winter of your dreams. Don’t look for your friends among these souls. Pay Charon and we will leave.’
Despite the wolf’s warning, Bwani couldn’t resist glancing at the dark spirits. The thought that Mary, Ano and Rosedark had become part of the screaming misery threatened to bring tears to his eyes. Only recently he had dined with them, while plotting secretly to undermine Mary’s power and influence by claiming the Eom for his own.
‘Why do you wait?’ Charon called. ‘Pay up or be on your way, stone man. I have many souls to ferry across — no time for those who won’t pay.’
‘In your pocket,’ Adolph said.
Feeling in the pocket of his breeches, Bwani was surprised to find three large golden coins. He stepped forward, mentally recoiling at the greed with which the ferryman snatched the money. After biting their edges, Charon nodded. ‘I’ll take them,’ he said. ‘But they cannot board now. I have many souls to tend to and they must wait their turn.’
Adolph nodded. ‘Then ferry them as soon as you can. They have been badly burnt and need urgent healing. You have your payment, Charon. Helt and the guardians of the Underworld wait their arrival impatiently.’
The miser screwed up his face at the wolf’s words. ‘Helt can be patient. Unless of course they have more ferrymen at their disposal. I am only one man. And Charon is old, weary and dying from the decreased belief in him. One day, I will be too old to ferry the dead across. What will the guardians do then?’
The spirits on the riverbank screamed even louder. Bwani felt his blood turn to ice at the sound. He blocked his ears, but it made little difference.
‘You are always moaning you will retire, but I never see any sign of it,’ Adolph said. He threw back his head and howled, and his pack gathered closer to him. ‘As for the three we have just paid you for, ferry them as quickly as you can.’
‘All demand speed,’ Charon grumbled. ‘So, they have been badly burned. One story among many such sad tales. Your insolence makes no difference — I will take as much time as I like. Charon was ferrying the dead when you were a whelp sucking on your bitch’s tit.’ At this point the ferryman broke off, his attention diverted by a mass of the black spirit leaves rushing towards the boat. He shouted at them to get back and they retreated, cowed in a rustling bunch. Adolph uttered a low growl, which Bwani knew was the signal for him to leave. As one, the great pack turned to depart.
‘Bwani!’ The cry came from among the spirits. Bwani turned in confusion. Was it Mary’s voice, or Rosedarks?
‘Bwani, help us! Help us across!’
‘Close your ears,’ Adolph ordered. ‘The dead will try anything to get across and find peace.’
What if it’s them? Bwani’s heart demanded. He felt sick at the thought he was abandoning his companions to the prejudices of the cantankerous ferryman.
‘Remember, the dead tell lies,’ Adolph said. ‘They ha
unt, and destroy. Do not listen to the lies of the dead.’
What if it’s them? Bwani’s heart asked again. But the pack were moving, and he had to follow.
Running, racing, teeth snapping, joy, earth, spiralling, jaws, sweat, blood, urine. Night, day, dusk, dawn. The pack became his life, his breath, his knowing. All he longed for was the smell of Adolph and to run near him. Then the wolves stopped again as if obeying an unheard signal. A terrible stench came to Bwani. It was of rotten meat, decay and pain. Nausea rose within him at the force of the odour. The pack seemed oblivious of how ghastly the reek was and were sniffing the air appreciatively. Suddenly the sky darkened, and the surrounding trees began to sway and dip. They were standing at the bottom of a soaring cliff-face that rose up into the dark purple sky. High above, balanced precariously on a jutting ledge, Bwani saw a small clump of bright clothing — Maya in her red wedding dress. Instinctively, he made to scramble up the rock face but Adolph growled, warning him to halt.
‘Use your eyes,’ the wolf said.
Bwani looked again. Surrounding the tiny figure were three Harpies, almost camouflaged against the colour of the stone.
‘She is under the protection of Hecate’s snatchers, and they do not relinquish their charge easily. Here, she rests in the world of shadows and illusion. She is not one of the dead, trapped between worlds, waiting for you. We must respectfully ask the Harpies to forsake their new charge.’
There followed a barrage of wolf howls and growls that to Bwani’s ears sounded like threats. The Harpies responded with a wild spitting, an eerie yowling and a clicking sound. The wolves continued to howl, standing in a semicircle, their noses pointed up at the snatchers. Bwani tensed. One of the Harpies lurched herself from the cliff face, free-falling steadily to the ground before her great wings opened to land her smoothly. He had seen Harpies on his travels, but he had never seen specimens so large. The creature had the head of a woman, with dull yellow eyes and pointed yellow teeth. Her hair was matted with tiny soft feathers adorning the greasy locks. Large black wings and a soft grey body combined a bird and a woman. Her human legs ended in claws instead of feet, large and sharp enough to hold an infant giant. The snatchers were renowned for carrying live bodies to the Underworld. There were many tales and songs about them in Eronth, and it was rumoured they even crossed to the Blue Planet to snatch their victims. He stared, fascinated, as she shook out her wings.
A Fire in the Shell: Circle of Nine Trilogy 3 Page 6
