The Burning Man, page 19
part #2 of Kingdom of the Serpent Series
‘We have space. We can offer you a bed.’ Demetra sat opposite her. ‘Do not feel you have to talk about your experience. But I should warn you, this is a difficult time.’ She paused. ‘And a strange time, too.’ Her smile faded to reveal a troubled, weary expression.
They were interrupted by a tearful woman in her thirties, slight and verging on anorexic. ‘It’s Roslyn,’ she said in a desperate American accent.
Blanching, Demetra rushed from the kitchen after her. Ruth found them near the security fence that surrounded the farm. Five other women had gathered, of different ages and nationalities, but all their faces were shattered by grief. Demetra knelt over the body of another woman. She was probably in her twenties, Ruth guessed, but it was difficult to tell for her face had been beaten so badly it was a mass of bruises.
Demetra cried silently. ‘Why did she leave the compound?’
‘He told her he was going to hurt the kids if she didn’t see him.’ The American’s voice cracked.
‘I’m sorry,’ Ruth said. ‘The police—’
Demetra shook her head. ‘Roslyn’s husband is a powerful man. He pays to get what he wants, and he has already ensured that the police and the other authorities support him.’
‘He’s been trying to shut us down,’ the American sobbed. ‘Just because we took Roslyn in.’
With surprising strength, Demetra picked up Roslyn and carried her with dignity towards the farmhouse. ‘We will not inform the authorities,’ Demetra said in response to Ruth’s querying expression. ‘Roslyn requested to be buried here in accordance with our beliefs.’
‘What are those?’
Demetra smiled, but gave nothing away.
‘Look.’ The American pointed behind them with astonishment. Along the path Demetra had taken with Roslyn’s body, tiny golden beings with gossamer wings were appearing from nowhere, rising up like moths to catch the sun before flitting towards the trees. In their wake, they left a feeling of contentment.
The women watched in amazement. ‘Magic,’ one of them said quietly.
‘But the land is supposed to be dead,’ Ruth said quietly to herself.
‘The season is turning.’ Ruth felt a frisson at Demetra’s echo of the bull’s words. ‘The land is waking.’
9
‘Why don’t you just let her go?’ Miller said hopefully. He gripped the dashboard for dear life as Veitch sent the car hurtling down deserted dusty lanes barely wide enough for one vehicle.
‘Will you shut up? Jesus Christ, I tell you, Miller, one more word and you’re going in the boot.’ In the grip of his rage, Veitch slammed a fist on the steering wheel. ‘She can’t have got far. Bollocks, Etain can find her in a bit.’ He saw the sign he wanted and jammed a foot on the brake so hard that the car fishtailed wildly before it came to a halt.
‘You’re going to kill us!’ Miller said.
‘Tempting.’ With a scream of tyres, Veitch sent the car down a side lane, past long, yellowing grass and scrubby bushes towards the blue Aegean Sea. He eventually brought the car to a halt on a rocky, rough piece of ground not far from a large modern structure. All around, insects buzzed, their too-rich colours shimmering in the sun.
‘Where are we?’ Miller asked.
‘If there’s one thing that bastard Church taught me, it’s do your homework.’ Veitch got out of the car and walked towards the large structure. Miller followed meekly. ‘That roof covers American excavations of an old fort going back six thousand years. Most important Stone Age site in the area.’
‘We’re sightseeing?’
‘Nah, we’re not here for that. This used to be an area of springs, and there was a bloody big lake here before it dried up. Lerna, it was called. Famous. In those old stories, Hercules fought some big fuck-off monster round here.’ Veitch strode towards the sea and Miller had to skip to keep up. ‘Now if you were as smart as me, Miller, you’d know those old Stone Age geezers weren’t like Fred Flintstone. They knew what they were doing when they built their settlements. The big ones, the special ones, were all thrown up where the power in the land was strong. So strong it could cut through between here and … other places.’ He flashed Miller a grin. ‘You’re going to have to take my word for it, mate.’
Veitch stopped within earshot of the rolling waves and knelt down, holding his hand a few inches above the ground, feeling for something Miller couldn’t see. ‘I thought it’d cut me off after I went against it,’ he said to himself, ‘but I can still feel it.’ A note of awe rose in his voice.
‘Why are we here, Ryan?’ Miller said wearily. He glanced over his shoulder towards the deserted Tripoli road and the rising bulk of Mount Ponticos. ‘I want to go home. And … it doesn’t feel right here. I keep thinking something bad is going to happen.’
‘You’ve got to stop being scared by life, Miller. It’ll kick you in the arse all the time, but that doesn’t mean you’ve got to stick your bum in the air.’ He grinned. ‘You want to see something really cool?’
He slammed his hand palm down on the ground. To Miller’s surprise, blue sparks flew up and the air smelled of burned iron; even more surprising, it was oddly familiar to him. After a second, the ground began to rumble and soon a rift opened revealing a large, dark tunnel.
‘Lake Lerna was supposed to be bottomless,’ Veitch said. ‘Instead, there was a tunnel to the Underworld, so everyone said. And you know what? They were right. You can cross over to the good old Otherworld all over the place, but this is one of the few spots that lead directly to the Grim Lands. The Land of the Dead. My place, now. My people.’
Miller was transfixed. From deep in the tunnel, he could hear the echo of hoof-beats drawing closer. Within seconds it became thunder and then Etain and her three comrades burst from the ground on their supernatural mounts. Sickened, Miller looked away from the dead, pale skin blooming here and there with lividity.
‘The Brothers and Sisters of Spiders,’ Veitch said by way of introduction. ‘Might have to think about a new name for them.’ He nodded to Etain. ‘Hello, darlin’.’
She levelled her dead, emotionless eyes at him and Miller was convinced some unspoken communication passed between them, for Veitch’s face darkened.
‘Shit. What’s going on?’ He turned to Miller, but he was speaking to himself. ‘The way’s been blocked. They’re on to us.’
‘Oh, well done! How did you ever guess?’ The theatrical voice was punctuated by slow, mocking clapping.
The Libertarian sat on a baked, muddy dune, dressed all in white like a colonial aristocrat, with a wide-brimmed hat adding a touch of flamboyance above the sunglasses that hid his lidless red eyes. Though he exuded an air of condescending wit, there was no humour in his face.
‘Treachery comes so easily to you, doesn’t it?’ He sighed. ‘We pick you up – from your grave, actually – dust you down, give you purpose and power, and how do you repay us?’
Veitch made a subtle motion for Miller to move closer to him. ‘You made the big mistake of pissing me off.’
‘As we’re in Greece, it would be rather fitting to discuss the concept of hubris with you in relation to that arrogance, but I fear an intellectual debate really isn’t a dish you like.’ The Libertarian rose to his feet and effetely dusted down his pristine trousers. ‘What is your plan now? I can’t believe the other side has welcomed you with open arms, not after you slaughtered a small army of their kindly, decent-hearted sheep.’
‘They’re all bastards, same as your lot.’
‘So it’s the Veitch way, is it? A pox on both your houses. How wonderfully ambitious. You think a Fragile Creature can stand alone in the vast sweep of reality? Light-dark, good-bad, heaven-hell – there is no middle ground for you to occupy, Ryan. Where do you really think you’re going to find a place where you can survive, let alone make a difference?’
‘Nowhere.’ Veitch shifted his body weight. Miller knew Veitch carried some kind of weapon in a harness on his back, but he’d never seen it. ‘I’m going to bring the whole mess tumbling down. Back to the foundations. Then maybe we can start over again with something that actually works.’
‘Ah. Feeling a little spurned by both sides? What are you going to do? Huff, and puff, and blow really hard?’
‘Nah, I’ll leave it to the Extinction Shears, mate. I’ve seen what they can do, you know that. Plus, this decent bloke here, and the other one – I know they can help screw you up.’
The Libertarian fell silent for a moment. Then: ‘You know where the Extinction Shears are?’
Veitch grinned. ‘Your big mistake is you always underestimate me.’
‘You utilised our inability to register your presence very well, I’ll give you that. And obviously anyone who travels with you falls into that selfsame peculiar blind spot. But the minute they leave your side …’ The Libertarian made a melodramatic gesture.
‘Ruth.’ Veitch grew grave.
‘Yes, the Sister of Dragons. Clearly you’ve stopped murdering them now. Turned over a new leaf? Or is it just because this one makes your little heart go pitter-patter?’
‘Shut up!’
‘You love her?’ Miller said. ‘That’s why you kidnapped her. I knew you were good deep down—’
The Libertarian roared with laughter.
Veitch slipped one hand into the covered harness on his back and withdrew a sword. Black fire danced along the blade and reflected darkly in Veitch’s eyes. ‘I still have this.’
‘Oh, I bow to the power you wield. I’m no fool. Quite the opposite. You see, I know I could have brought a minor cadre of Lament-Brood here and overwhelmed you by sheer force of numbers. But where is the sport in that? A little emotional suffering always sweetens any mundane job, I say.’
Veitch was still wrestling with the Libertarian’s twisted logic when Miller made the connection for him. ‘He’s going to kill Ruth.’
‘No real need for her any longer. I let that little group of naive dragon-brood wander across this world with impunity to see if they could turn up the two Keys and/or the Extinction Shears. Oh, I threw an obstacle or two in their way, just so they didn’t get suspicious. But here you are, and you’ve done the job for them!’ The Libertarian squinted at Miller as if he couldn’t quite see him. ‘And I think once this one is chopped up into meaty chunks,’ he added hesitantly, ‘the other one will be superfluous. Two together or none at all.’
Terrified, Miller backed behind Veitch.
‘Don’t worry – I won’t let him take you,’ Veitch hissed.
‘I wager you always hear the James Bond theme in your head when you say things like that.’ The Libertarian bowed his head slightly and walked to the top of the dune. ‘Think of your lady-love while you are sadly unable to help her.’
Realisation came a second too late for Veitch. As he raced forward to cut the Libertarian in half, black spiders burst from bubbles in the air to shower in vast numbers on the ground. They formed a crescent around Veitch, Miller and the Brothers and Sisters of Spiders.
‘Where did they come from?’ Miller gasped.
‘They’re always there. Crawling behind reality.’ Veitch hesitated.
‘We can run through them—’
‘No! If they touch you, they’ll wipe you out as if you never existed.’
The spiders advanced. Cursing under his breath, Veitch backed towards the tunnel leading to the Underworld until he stood on its lip, one arm across Miller’s chest.
The Libertarian waved his hand theatrically. ‘ “There go the loves that wither, the old loves with wearier wings; And all dead years draw thither, and all disastrous things.” ’
‘I’m going to get you, you bastard!’
‘Shout all you want, no one will hear you. You’re going where you belong, Ryan, down amongst the dead men.’
Something wrapped tightly around Veitch’s ankles and then he was dragged backwards into the dark. As he fell, funereal cloth wrapped tightly around his head, and the last thing he heard was the sound of the ground closing above him.
Chapter Seven
CULT OF SOULS
1
It was a night for whispers and memories, dreams and magic. A full moon hung over the purple mountains at the heart of the Peloponnese and the warm air was filled with the scent of cooling vegetation and olives. Occasionally the wind would bring the salty aroma of the sea.
‘You do not have to join us.’ Demetra’s face was still filled with the weight of her grief.
‘I didn’t know her,’ Ruth replied, ‘but I feel I want to be there.’
Demetra flopped onto the swing-seat on the farmhouse porch. ‘So strong for so long, for everyone relying on me, and tonight I feel as if I cannot go on.’
‘It’ll pass. We all feel like that sometimes. And if we didn’t, we wouldn’t know what it was like to feel on top.’ Ruth sat next to her.
‘You are strong. I see a quality in you … it is hard to define … but it has the colour blue.’ Demetra peered deeply into Ruth’s eyes, then looked away with a smile. ‘I am sorry. I have strange ways.’
‘I think you’re under a lot of pressure. It must be difficult, trying to manage this community, keep these women safe, while all those powerful people have been trying to close you down.’
‘It has been a difficult road. The world has not been safe for women for a long time. Three years after my grandmother walked the many miles from Athens to find a safe place, she was raped and murdered by a gang of men building a road. It was not about sex. It was about control. They did not like what she was doing here, and wanted to punish her for it. Eventually, my mother took over the running of our community. She died when I was twenty, beaten to death on the hillside here. Her murderer was never caught.’ The moonlight illuminated the defiance in her features. ‘I fear my own end will be the same. But if we do not stand and fight for what we believe in, then nothing will ever change. And change always demands sacrifice.’
Ruth’s owl flapped onto a perch on a tree in the courtyard. Demetra eyed it curiously, as if she could see its true nature.
‘I try to understand the patterns of life, but it makes so little sense. The world would be a better place without the brutality, and the hatred and suspicion, the desire for money and power. Everyone knows that, yet we embrace this sour existence. We are condemned prisoners cheering as we walk to the gallows.’ She smiled sadly. ‘Why do we want to live in a world without magic?’
‘The world can be changed. You’re doing your piece—’
‘How small and ineffectual it is. I could not save Roslyn. In the end, what have I achieved?’
As Demetra went to meet Lou, the American woman, who was approaching carrying a candle, she looked diminished somehow, worn down by grief and the demands of the life she had chosen. Ruth’s heart went out to her.
‘We’re ready,’ said Lou.
The women had gathered just beyond the courtyard, all dressed in white flowing dresses that glowed spectrally in the moonlight. There were twelve including Demetra, each carrying a candle. Hidden beneath a shroud, Roslyn lay on a wooden stretcher amongst them.
‘We welcome Ruth into our celebrations,’ Demetra said to them. ‘And this is a celebration, for when we move from this harsh world into a better place, it should be recognised with ecstasy.’
A large wine flask hung from each woman’s waist. In turn the women took a long draught and made a solemn speech.
‘My name is Alicia. My arm was broken in three places, but I survive. I wish my sister Roslyn well, for she is now beyond our pain.’
‘My name is Melantha. It took six months before I could look at myself in a mirror, but I survive. I wish my sister Roslyn well, for she is now beyond our pain.’
When the final woman had spoken, Demetra offered Ruth her own wine flask. ‘Drink deep. Experience the joy of detachment from this world.’
Ruth swallowed a mouthful of wine and was surprised by its potency. It was not like any wine she had ever tasted before.
Six of the larger women shouldered the stretcher and a slow procession set off up the hillside towards the olive groves. The flapping of Ruth’s owl disturbed her, but when she tried to see the cause of the commotion she noticed the lights of a vehicle making its way across the dark landscape in the direction of the compound. Though a commonplace sight, Ruth felt oddly uneasy.
The women began to sing a quiet, lilting song that contributed to the dreamlike atmosphere. As they walked, they took repeated draughts of wine, not for the flavour but to get drunk.
‘The Cult of Souls has been a part of our culture in Greece for thousands of years,’ Demetra began. ‘They called us a mystery religion, and one of the mysteries we taught was the strength of the true, primal being that lies at the heart of all of us. The real person, the rider of the mare that is our body.’
‘The soul,’ Ruth said.
Demetra smiled. ‘That word has too many connotations. It is a mystery at the heart of a mystery. Our beliefs underpinned, and preceded, the Orphic Mysteries, and Gnosticism, and even Christianity. Some trace it back to the Osiris Cult of ancient Egypt. They believed the spirit existed in three forms. The akh was the form the dead existed in when they travelled to the Underworld. The ba was a bird released at death that contained the individual’s personality and character. And the ka was a double that could be released in dreams, but was finally released at death.’
‘And you’re all part of this cult?’
‘No one is forced to join. There is no religious text, no rules and regulations. At its heart is one simple idea: that what is inside us is stronger than our bodies and can go on for ever. It is not about any religion, rather an idea, just an idea. And we believe that by freeing ourselves from the body, and the care and worry that come with it, we can access that deeper being and through it glimpse the true nature of Existence.’
Ruth smiled. ‘So get drunk—’
‘And dance, and sing, and leave the world behind.’
