Scenting Hallowed Blood (31 page)

Daniel uttered a strangled
whine, sure he was about to lose his life. Shemyaza had gone
insane. He closed his eyes, tried to call for Taziel, but Shemyaza
jerked his boneless body in the air and impaled him upon a spear of
fire.

Daniel screamed, and felt the
whole building shake to his terror and pain. The screaming went on
and on, until a black void, spinning faster than the speed of
light, enveloped him in darkness.

The pit, the abyss, the endless
chasm of despair. A graveyard of stars and of the light of hope.
Daniel dropped through it, weightless, yet heavier than lead. There
was no time in this place, yet Daniel was still aware of time,
because he ached with horror that this descent might be his eternal
fate.

Then, slowly, light bloomed
around him.

Daniel blinked. He was
enveloped in cold, white light; a radiance that bleached colour and
shape from the world. Slowly, he realised he was curled up on the
ground, but it was a place far removed from High Crag. He sensed he
was lying upon pebbled turf, but it was indistinct to his eyes. He
was whimpering, naked, but could barely feel his body.

Shemyaza stood some distance
away from him, at the edge of a cliff. He was dressed in a white
robe, belted with gold. Around his neck, he wore the bony filigree
of a serpent’s spine, and he was cloaked from shoulder to ankle in
black feathers. His waving hair was woven with long, white plumes,
tassels of corn and soft thongs of leather.

‘Daniel, get up!’ Shemyaza’s
voice was so loud, it could hardly be heard. It was the voice of
the thunder, the storm, the planets spinning in the void.

‘I can’t.’

‘Get up. Come to me.’

Daniel found he was on his
feet, swaying as if his body had no substance. With shaking steps,
he walked towards the edge of the cliff.

‘Where am I?’ Daniel asked.
‘What are you showing me?’

Shemyaza did not answer the
questions but merely said, ‘Look down.’

Fearfully, Daniel did so. He
gasped and wobbled, nearly fell. There was no end to the abyss
below, only a seethe of clouds, shot with bloody streaks of
light.

‘Take my hand.’

Daniel had turned his head
away, closed his eyes, but he reached out for Shemyaza’s hand.

‘Do you trust me?’

Daniel dared to open his eyes,
look up into the face of the angel. He could not answer.

Shemyaza removed his cloak of
feathers and placed it around Daniel’s shoulders, making sure the
clasp was fastened firmly at his neck. ‘Fly for me, Daniel,’
Shemyaza said. ‘Jump.’

Daniel glanced down into the
abyss, winced and groaned.

‘Do it. Jump. I will be with
you.’

Daniel gripped Shemyaza’s
fingers hard. This was the moment of ultimate decision. He did not
hesitate, but uttered a roar that reverberated deep within his
chest. Still screaming, he threw himself from the cliff.

The clouds rushed up to meet
him and fingers of fire spat out of them, stinking of burning meat.
Daniel felt as if his heart had stopped beating. He had died of
fright already. Then he was soaring above the tumbling, curdled
clouds, and up and up, towards a peak on the other side of the
abyss. He was as mighty as the great vulture kings, hovering on the
thermals of the astral plane, as the shamans of old had flown. He
flew with the wings of the griffin, a wingspan of thirteen feet.
But he flew alone. Shemyaza was not beside him.

Up to the peaks and down to the
fabled lands. He saw the Sphinx, a mere cub in time, its face
freshly carved. It stood upon an island in the middle of a blue
lake. He saw the Tower of Babel reaching for the sky, and the tiny
people working upon it, dragging stone and wood. He soared across
the lowlands, where the little people toiled and bred and fought
and died. He saw the Ark, and the sons of Noah looking towards
Hermon’s Mount, where Enoch spoke with the Sons of God. He saw the
lofty temples rise and fall, and mighty armies surge across the
land. He saw the great king, Solomon, taking wisdom from the
Shining Ones, and flew through the heart of the most secret arcana
known to humanity or gods. Then the Garden was before him, its
terraces rearing up towards the High House where Lord Anu ruled the
land. He was at home again. Had he ever left?

Now the flight was over and he
wore the skin of a child. Memories of his life as Daniel Cranton
seemed but a dream. He was playing in the garden, and his mother
was coming out to him from the shady coolness of their dwelling. He
was ten years old. ‘Daniel. It is time. Say your good-byes
now.’

Time to go. To leave home. Take
up the position.

He was walking upon a mountain
path, up to a great house formed from immense blocks of smooth,
white stone, with cedar trees all around it. A tall figure stood
waiting for him. And his mother was behind him, pushing him
forward. ‘He is there, Daniel. Your master. Work well for him and
be loyal.’

Your master. Shemyaza.

The master reached out for him
and took his little hand. ‘Come, Daniel. This is your home
now.’

The vision ended and his
consciousness jerked away. He was flying again, into a mist. The
mountain peaks around him faded away, and his wings beat upon a
moist, occluding fog. The motion of flight and the deep, heavy beat
of his feathers lulled him into a semi-hypnotic state. Then, the
mist was clearing, and his eyes blinked against bright sunlight. He
was flying over the sea, towards land. The coastline undulated
green, red and gold like the scales of a great serpent. Cornwall:
the Lizard. He was back. He saw the image of an immense lion
naturally formed in the cliff-face, which he recognised as a
guardian. As he drew nearer to land, he could feel the flexing of
the serpent power beneath the rock as the presence of Shemyaza, so
close, disturbed its sleep. Daniel hung over the cliff-top,
absorbing the impressions that came to him. The serpent was a
chained creature, which needed to be free. But how to wake it? How
to set it free? A voice whispered in his head.
You wear the
wings of the shaman. You must go the underworld and reawaken the
Shamir.

But these are not my
wings,
Daniel thought. Beating them slowly, he descended before
the face of the lion. Now, he could see that it was a giant sphinx,
whose eyes were closed, and that between its paws, which reached
towards the ocean, there was a columned portal. He alighted upon
the rocks, and the eyes of the sphinx opened, expelling a fierce
red light.

Have you come to sing the
lament for Serapis?

Daniel did not understand the
riddle. He knew an answer was required of him before the guardian
would allow him entrance to the underworld, but was unsure of what
to say. ‘I come to seek the Shamir,’ he said, with forced
confidence. ‘For the good of the king. For the good of the
land.’

The columned portal began to
glow faintly. Daniel could make out the convolutions of strange
glyphs, geometric shapes carved into the stone. A series of
triangles, circles, lines and dots flickered before him. He thought
they were the marks of some ancient written language, although he
did not recognise it. Was he supposed to translate these markings
to gain access to the underworld? Perhaps the Lament for Serapis
was written in the stone.

His eyes scanned the alien
shapes upon the smooth stele, back and forth, back and forth, as if
by staring at them their meaning would somehow become clear to him.
As he fixed his concentration upon the marks, a deep, resonant hum
began to fill his head. It gradually grew in pitch, until it was
unbearably loud and shrill; it seemed to vibrate within each
individual fibre of his body. Beneath his feet, the rocks trembled,
and below the humming shriek in his ears, he heard the groaning
clack of tortured stone grinding against itself.

Daniel was suffused with a
terrible sense of doubt. The elation of flight had fled from his
mind and body. He had begun the process, but was ignorant of how to
continue. Was he in danger? ‘Shem,’ he cried. ‘Where are you? What
am I supposed to do?’

No-one answered his plea.

Cautiously, Daniel reached out
to the stone portal. He would just have to act on instinct. As his
fingertips made contact, the shrill humming around him abruptly
ceased. The silence that followed it seemed absolute, but as
Daniel’s senses adjusted, he realised a new sound had started up; a
deep and even booming. As he listened, it gradually grew louder,
and he realised it was the beat of his own heart, amplified by the
stone. In his mind, he formed the intention of wanting to enter
through the portal beyond the slick rocks and into the dark tunnel
that lay behind them.

Daniel closed his eyes, and
threw back his head. ‘Let me through!’ he called. ‘I am Daniel of
the Lion and I am worthy!’ He projected his intention at the
guardian.

The sound of his heartbeat
receded, as if it moved away from him, deep into the cliff-face,
and down, down beneath the earth. Daniel stood in the tense silence
that followed its retreat. Then, he extended his inner vision, and
thrust his senses through the portal. Beyond, all was in thick
darkness. He could not smell or hear anything, but his perception
soared down the lightless tunnel, trying to keep up with the
fleeting sound of his own heart-beat, which still seemed to fly
ahead of him. Then, at the very perimeter of his perception, he
perceived a tiny ball of light. He could not ascertain its speed,
but he could tell it was approaching him, pulsing nearer and
nearer, growing brighter and larger.

Outside the portal, Daniel was
filled with alarm. He withdrew his senses from the tunnel, and knew
he should fly away from the approaching light, but his body was
frozen. He could not avoid the inevitable collision.

He sensed that the light was
now a massive sphere, hovering just behind the two stone stele of
the portal. Perhaps it would stay there, as a warning. Perhaps he
could just creep away.

But before he could move, the
light exploded from the cliff-face. Daniel felt the thunderous roar
of its vibration engulf him, paralysing him with cold fire. His
body was hurled backwards and upwards.

Frantically, Daniel tried to
beat his borrowed wings, but a searing hurricane held him in its
grip. He was travelling up above the earth at great speed, up and
up, towards the stars. Then, the constellation of Orion hung before
him. It was empty of captives now. Shemyaza’s soul had once hung
here for ten millennia. It was a part of him. Surely he could hear
Daniel’s inner voice in this place?

‘Shem, where are you? You said
you would be with me. You knew I would fail, but you still used me
to test the water. Do you feel nothing for me? Or are you just
afraid of these lonely stars, which could be your prison once more?
If I could wake the Shamir for you, my king, I would, but I know
now that the serpent will allow no other but you before its
eyes.’

As if in response, the stars of
Orion grew blindingly bright, and Daniel felt himself being
repelled by an invisible thrust of force. It sent him plummeting
downwards, and as he fell, his body filled up with liquid fire. His
feathers were scorched away. He could feel his vitals burning,
devoured by the caustic fluid.

Daniel screamed and fell. Stars
rushed by him, and the mocking laughter of invisible entities rang
through the void. He saw blazing angels rise up, shrieking, in a
maelstrom of oily wings, and then the great deluge engulfed the
world.

He sank into the fiery flood
and his head hit stone. He closed his eyes, roaring with pain and
fear. Light. Flames. Screams. Darkness.

Silence.

‘
Hush now. It’s
over.’

Daniel opened his eyes to the
blaze of a host of candles, in Shem’s room at High Crag. He felt
like vomiting and doubled up, clutching his stomach. Shem’s hand
lay upon his shoulder as he choked and writhed upon the carpet.

‘I’m sorry, Daniel. I knew it
would be bad for you, because of your gift of sight. But it’s over
now. Straighten up. There’s no pain.’

Daniel looked up into Shem’s
face and saw in it both sorrow and repletion. How could Shem have
taken satisfaction from his agony? It was obscene.

‘Peverel Othman is not dead in
you,’ he gasped and crawled towards the bed. He wanted to lie down
on his belly on something soft and yielding.

Shem helped him climb up. ‘I’ll
run you a hot bath. Lie there for now.’

Daniel laughed weakly. This was
absurd. Moments ago, he had soared in another world. Now it was
necessary to see to frail human needs. Daniel realised, for the
first time, what a hindrance flesh could be.

When the bath was ready, Shem
lifted Daniel in his arms and carried him to the water. ‘I didn’t
want to see you like that,’ Daniel said. ‘It isn’t really you.’

Shem lowered him gently into
the bath. ‘Daniel, you must face the fact that it is part of
me.’

When the warm water touched his
skin, Daniel could not repress a cry of pain. ‘It’s too hot! You’re
burning me!’

Shem lifted him just above the
water. ‘No, it’s not, Daniel. It’s just an effect of the
transference. For a while, your senses will be heightened, but this
will pass.’

Daniel dug his fingers into
Shem’s arms as his body entered the water. His eyes spun with light
and the room revolved around him, as if he was drunk. He glanced at
the sparkling taps, and it seemed they were alive. He could see the
soul of the metal. Smells assaulted his senses: the overpowering
aroma of the soap, the animal products within it stinking of dung
and rancid fat; the scent of the water itself, describing the
nature of its elementals.

Shem held onto him. ‘Ride it,
Daniel. Absorb it. Take control. The first time is always like
this, at least for those who truly deserve the fruit.’