Weaving

[tinhuviel]

I've posted part of this before, but since I've added to it, I need to repost the entire portion for reference purposes.

"So your plan is to infiltrate the Apostate's stronghold and take the Blood Crown, even if it rests upon his brow?" Kelat asked Cadmus, her heart increasing its rhythm, pumping the stolen blood through her hungry veins. It was her hope that Cadmus was indeed keen on taking up this quest.

Cadmus thought before answering. The Blood Crown was one of those relics that held the fate of the Great Hive in a kind of magickal thrall, the chalice possibly being strongest of the three. That was securely in his hands. He didn't use it to sway the Will of the Great Hive; rather, he depended on the chalice as a supply of Blood to keep him sated. Cadmus could live his life without worry, for no Vampire except Kelat would dare attempt to take the chalice from him, and Kelat was not strong enough to attempt such folly alone. For any other Vampire to try to take the chalice would mean their demise, a painful and degrading one at that, depending upon the Darkling’s age and strength. The stronger the Vampire, the longer Cadmus liked to keep him or her alive, drinking from the hostage at whim and exacting cruel punishments upon the flesh as not only an eternal recreation of his own degradation, but now also as an amusement. But the Blood Crown was the very one that helped to drain the life of the Christ so that his blood could be used in a vengeful act of perversion. To have that and to possibly kill the living husk that hid away in his poison catacombs...that would be a glorious thing. It would achieve two of Cadmus' goals: to retrieve another Vampire relic for his own and to murder the Apostate.  It would also gain him not a small amount of control on the remaining nine of the Original Ten.  The only relic left to acquire was the Augury of Gideon, that elusive book of Vampiric prophecy.  But it was believed that the only copy of that book had been destroyed with Gideon when he invoked Inferno, and that the vestiges of his prophecy existed only in the memories of the Vampire scatterlings, passing on their knowledge and predictions by rote, from one Vampire to another. 

"Yes," Cadmus replied., without letting his thoughts be known. "It's my intention to do just that."

"I have scryed as much,” Kelat said, revealing now that she had indeed known more than she’d originally let on.  “But I must warn you that going alone will mean your final death, my son, not to mention the suffering you’ll endure before the end.  I've taken the liberty of calling on someone who is fit to work with you in successfully take the Blood Crown from the Apostate. You must take him with you, Cadmus Pariah if you’ve any hope of success. If you don't, you will die."

"I work alone," Cadmus said, leveling a dangerous gaze at Kelat. He thought to himself that his initial assumption had been correct: Kelat had known about the Blood Crown all along, and she sat here in her Jerusalem lair doing what she'd always done, even in mortal life. She scryed and knew the things of importance to her people. She peered into Cadmus' comings and goings without his knowledge and she had done so in this sacred chamber, hidden from both human and Darkling. And now she dared tell him, Cadmus Pariah, what to do?

He thought not. But Kelat persisted.

"Not this time. You may hold the chalice, but I am still the Queen of the Great Hive. I am your Domina and High Matron, and you will do my bidding in the matter or will not engage in this campaign at all."

Frowning, Cadmus wrapped his mind around this new emotion. It was a sort of petulant disappointment. He made a mental note to avoid situations that may stir this particular philosophical apex.

"Is he here? Must I go fetch him before setting off to Rome?"

"He should arrive soon. The sun endangers him, so we have some time to commune...until he arrives tonight."

"And who is this necessary baggage with which you are burdening me?"

Kelat took a deep breath and prepared herself for the venomous onslaught to come. "His name is Orphaeus Cygnus."

Before he realised he’d done it, Cadmus had leapt to his feet.  For the first time in his long life, Cadmus lost control but, before he could lay waste to Kelat’s sacred shrine, an ancient Elfin geasa was laid upon him, immobilizing Cadmus in his tracks.

“Don’t.  You.  Dare.”  Kelat’s words were emphatic and helped to drive the geasa home.  “I allowed you to find this place so that we could discuss the Blood Crown and make plans accordingly.  I will not allow you to wreck the sanctity of my shrine because you’ve yet to learn to control your newfound rage.”

Cadmus shivered from the strain against the geasa, but it was unbreakable.  Kelat continued, “Now I realise that you and Orphaeus have a bit of a history.”

“To say the very least,” Cadmus interrupted, his voice tremulous with anger and hatred.

Kelat continued as though he’d never even spoken.  “When he answered my summons to Asheville, Orphaeus revealed to me how the two of you met and failed to get along.”

“Queen of the Upyr and of understatements,” Cadmus spat. 

“Then again, you don’t get along with anyone much, do you, Cadmus?”

“You do me an injury, Mother,” Cadmus replied through gritted teeth, his double canines bared.  “I rather thought that you and I got on smashingly.”

Kelat smiled.  He had almost mastered the fine art of sarcasm, her wayward son, if not his anger.  On a certain perverse level Kelat was almost proud of him.  She decided to ignore his jibe and said, instead, “So, what shall we do while we wait?  Do you fancy sharing with me a story from your life or would you prefer that I reveal to you some of your ancient, alien, Elfin heritage?”

As Cadmus attempted to reseat himself, Kelat gradually released the geasa upon him so that he could.  He cocked his head to the left, his infinite shark eyes absorbing all the light from around him.  “Considering your taking my earliest memories hostage when last we communed, I think it only fair that you share with me this time.  Show me what it means to be Tarmian, O Mother of mine.”

“Very well, then, close your eyes.”  When Cadmus hesitated, Kelat sighed in exasperation.  “Do you want to see with the eyes of my memory?  If you do, you must close your own eyes.  Or we can spend the next couple of hours staring at each other in silence, though I’m rather certain that you’d find that as tedious as I.”

It was obvious to Cadmus that Kelat was intentionally goading him.  She wanted to see another outburst from him, but she’d be sorely disappointed.   He was a fast learner.  Instead of putting on a show for her, he dutifully closed his eyes.  Again Kelat smiled, amazed at how easily manipulated Cadmus actually was.  It was as though he was finally living the childhood that had been beaten and raped out of him by Nissius, the man the Apostate had sent to teach Cadmus the arcane arts of his dreadful master’s intentions.

Kelat reached out to her beautiful, deadly son. He forced himself to relax as her cool, dry hands touched him, and he allowed Kelat to pull him to her until they touched foreheads.

 

Instantly, Cadmus found himself in a massive wooded grove. Even though the circular grove was overpoweringly large, it held a particular intimacy one wouldn't normally associate with a place its size. The Circle was rimmed with tall, frail-looking beings, their eyes giant pools of natural holiness, and their thin frames joined arm in arm to seal the Circle physically as well as magickally.

Further into the Circle stood an altar, inclined to the North. It was small and simple, its stone base set close to the ground. Upon the altar were five items: a dagger made of silver with an antler handle lay to the fore. Left of the dagger sat a small bronze cup full of wine. At the head of the altar stood the ancient star symbol of the Dẹaghydhe and, to the right of that rested a feathered willow wand. In the center of altar sat a shallow carved mahogany basin. It contained water still as slumber.

Before the altar sat a man and woman, both of them astonishing in their untamed beauty. Cadmus could see himself in them and it stirred a feeling like pride. The man, adorned in animal skins and crowned with antlers, sat to the woman's right. His hair was an indistinct colour, sometimes shimmering in reds and golds, sometimes billowing in shades of chestnut and ebony. The woman, her eyes two beauteous orbs of cerulean blue, was crowned with a living halo of honey bees. Dozens of them droned about her dark brown hair, weaving patterns as they circled in a sublime dance of living worship. She was simply robed in raiment of red and grey.

"Who are these people?" asked Cadmus, who stood with Kelat a ways away from the fascinating scene.

"The High Priestess and Priest there are my parents," Kelat replied. "Before me, my mother was Kelat'menan, the Mother of Memory, for our tribe. There were none greater or more beloved that She."

“But what of you?”

“What of me?” Kelat replied bitterly.  “I was nothing compared to Pretani. I am nothing compared to she who led two thirds of our tribes to the Tarliman after its discovery by Ladnor the Younger.  She who travelled onward to settle in what would become the holy island of Meybhelahn, where still she dwells today, looking upon her daughter enslaved by bloodlust, no doubt heartbroken by the sight of it.  No, my son, I am nothing like Pretani Preallanua, the Land-dancer.  I am...nothing.....compared to her.  Nothing.  No.”

Cadmus could sense Kelat’s heartbreak, even in this realm of revenants.

“But she named you Memory.  She knew that you would follow in her footsteps and become a Mother of Memory yourself.  You may not dance the land, or have found magickal strongholds to protect the faithful, but you are Mother to us, the Darklings of the Earth.  You are our Mother of Memory, despite my discomfort in saying such a thing.  What was your full name, Mother of Memory?”

Kelat paused, looking upon the sunlit ritual calling for a gentle starsun and abundant harvest.  “Would it surprise you, Darkling Chylde, that this Mother of Memory fails to recall the entirety of my cognomen?  In those days, names could go onward for what seemed like days, the utterances demanding many pauses for breath, being like unto song itself.  The tradition continues in what is now known as Wales.  But I do remember a bit of it:  Lhihlhishian an'Dharwen'na ap Kelat Sheshanna'dah mar'hahiah Kessilon'mhriah Chompatta-zhah Chiams'rhawhna.  It roughly translates as Lhihlhishian, daughter of the high Mother of Memory, a child dedicated to Kessilon the Star Goddess, She of the Chiamsa mane and Princess of Chompatta, the multi-handed.”

“So you’re name is Lhihlhishian, meaning what?”

“Nightingale.  In the common tongue, it means ‘of the night,’ and it is the reason why I propagated the legends of Lilitu in the deserts of Palestine.  The Hebrews and Arabs have a special understanding of the wild woman who sings in the wastelands.  They know my song and, even though they curse it, they also respect and admire it in their own superstitious way.”

“It must be safe to assume that there are no such creatures as Sanoi, Sansenoi, and Samangelof?” Cadmus scoffed.

“No creatures, but truly they are charms against the possibilities of evil.  Of all the humans on this planet, save the Western Celts, the Semites are most beloved to me.  Despite their fear and hatred of me, I would not have theirs harmed by my own.  So the altered Tarmian charms of protection I gave to them to place over the cribs of their infants in the event that some bloodthirsty Upyr might find it desirable to taste the life of an infant.”

Cadmus smiled grimly.  “I guess that’s why my living garden has devoured so few Jewish children in her quest to keep herself lush for my enjoyment.”

 

Of a sudden, the dream connection was severed.  “Cadmus, why do you not release Eve from her prison?  Why must you relish in her misery?”

“Relish, Mother?”  His voice echoed a quiet confusion, something that had a ring of truth to it.  “When I took her as my chylde, amusement at her predicament was not the end to my means.  Her transformation was prophecy, in accordance to the prophecies passed on from the Augury of Gideon.  She was destined to be my sacred garden of Blood, and she will live true to her part in prophecy until the end of days.  Of course, I would be lying if I said that the unfortunate lot she’s been dealt does not bring a smile to my lips.”

Kelat angered at Cadmus’ words.  “You have my chalice, chylde.  You’ve no need for the Blood Eve supplies for you.  And prophecy isn’t something that demands blind adherence.  At best, it’s just a guide by which a people might glean some insight and apply themselves to ethical behaviour.  At worst, well….”  She looked the Pariah up and down in disgust.  “It’s your kind that have, over the years, cried out for the blood of innocents as they shrieked, burning, on the holy stakes of torture.”

“Your point being?”  Cadmus whispered, the tone of his voice reminding Kelat that he was, for all intents and purposes, one part child of the man who had brought about the very Inquisition that championed the torture and murder of so many Tarmi and their followers over the years.  A chill passed through her as she studied her dreadful son.

“Do you want to know more?”

“I am your faithful and attentive student, Mother Kelat.”

 

The grove returned and the alien, Elfin chants of the Tarmi echoed throughout the countryside, infusing the land with a sanctity long-forgotten by the inheritors of Eterah.  The Kelat’menan and her priest bowed over the basin, their attention enraptured by the visions revealed therein.

“They are seeing the possibilities of migration, of spreading throughout the land, learning and discovering the wonders the Earth Mother has in store for them,” Kelat explained to Cadmus.  “Even now, their innocence is uplifting, if not grievous, considering the sorrow that befell their descendants and acolytes.”

“And where are you in this vision of loveliness?”  Cadmus asked, his voice a shroud of sarcasm.

Kelat walked closer to her mother, caressing the path of the bees encircling the High Priestess’ head.  “I am a rumour within her body,” she said.  “She suspects that I am growing, as does my father.  And my brother, Thiyennen, barely walking in his first year, he certainly knew.  He sensed that a sister was soon to share his world.  And he knew that, together, we would mark a course of history whose ripples in the Waters of Time have yet to subside.”

Voices rose in song as Pretani Preallanua and her mate began to raise the Cone of Power.  The bees spiraled upward in response to the Tarmian magick, and the Tarmi raised their entwined arms in response.  The music was nothing like Cadmus had ever heard.  It had a presence that was wholly physical.  The Pariah reached out to the vision and touched the sound weaving throughout the air.  Despite his wanting to find nothing but disgust for what he beheld, Cadmus found himself amazed at this phenomenon.

“They’re Weaving,” Kelat said.  “It’s an old Dẹaghydhen practice that combines the living souls engaged in the ritual.  It made everyone a family of sorts and connected us on a very intimate level.  Weaving was also done on the oceans.  It was called Singing the Sails, and it summoned the wind to drive the Tarmian long ships of yore.  What you’re touching on the air is the living spirit of Tarmian magick.  It is very real, even in this spectre of a memory in my mind.”

“Why are you showing this particular memory to me?”

“Because you have the gift of Weaving.  I’ve seen it working in the charms you make on stage and in the rituals you held as Landon Dunlevy.  It’s a perversion of the original purpose of such magick, but it’s Weaving all the same.  You need to learn to perfect this because I think you may need it when you confront the Apostate.  Orphaeus, despite his innate humanity, also possesses the gift of Weaving.  His operas are evident of it.  The two of you working in collusion may well help you overpower the enemy you seek.”

My current word count for The Vampire Relics (working title, not written in stone just yet) is 107,770. "The Blood Crown" contributes 6,671 of those words and I'm not even into the meat of the story yet. There's gonna be so much interaction between Cadmus Pariah and Orphaeus Cygnus, it might be a crime. One of the things I want to have them do during their time together on this quest of theirs is share a stage and maybe even vie for the audience's attentions and adoration. Just imagining those two making music together in some sort of magickal, vampiric competition is about more than I can bear. It wouldn't surprise me if my head exploded while I try to write this segment of the book. One thing I'd like to do is ask B a few questions about performing, how he feels interacting with the audience and what he'd like to perform with Danny Elfman, if given half the chance. He likes Danny Elfman, which was an immense relief to me. If it'd turned out that he despised the Little Maestro, the psychic implications would have made me keel over for good, I'm afraid.

Comments

[morriganwind.livejournal.com]

I've read part of this before, but the combination of it and your new work adds so much more to what I've read previously. :)

Thank you again for sharing. I'm looking forward to more and I'm simply lost in silence, loving the beauty you created in your strange, terrifying, and intoxicating universe.

[tinhuviel.livejournal.com]

Thank you for reading and offering encouragement and suggestions. Any critiques are deeply appreciated, trust me!

[morriganwind.livejournal.com]

Again...I have to digest and then re-read to see errors.

Sometimes I can read things and have suggestions come to me. In this case, I wanted to escape so no suggestions thus far. ;)

[tinhuviel.livejournal.com]

I understand. Thanks in advance, though. You're a peach.

[flameprincess.livejournal.com]

I love the way you write. While reading this and reading about the Weaving I likened it to the way you tell a story.

It's got a fabulous ebb and flow and it's cerebral in that way of explaining as the story goes.

[tinhuviel.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much. When I begin the arduous task of acquiring an agent, I'm going to offer up comments like yours in the hope that s/he will see that supporting this book may be worthwhile.

[booraven22.livejournal.com]

There's gonna be so much interaction between Cadmus Pariah and Orphaeus Cygnus, it might be a crime.

::makes inexplicable squeaking and clapping noises::

Have I mentioned lately how much I love and appreciate your writing?
I want to marry it and have it's little demoniacally pointy teethed babies. SRSLY.

[tinhuviel.livejournal.com]

I thought you might be happy about that. Since you're the expert on Orphaeus' dad, any input on him would be most appreciated. And thank you for liking my writing. It heartens and encourages me to go forth, despite the fear that I'm just spinning my wheels.

[falkenna.livejournal.com]

There's gonna be so much interaction between Cadmus Pariah and Orphaeus Cygnus, it might be a crime.
::makes inexplicable squeaking and clapping noises::

Seconded.

Apart from the fact that it's lovely and engaging writing, I love the RL implications of how easily Kelat deals with him these days.

[tinhuviel.livejournal.com]

You're psychoanalysing me again, aren't you? I love it when you do that because I never see such things myself. I guess I'm too close to the situation.

BTW, have you seen B lately? Any parties or gigs to report? You've been very quiet about it all.

[falkenna.livejournal.com]

Well, apart from being out of the country for three months, I seem to have less and less interest in the outside world. I come home and watch TV or read/study/write -- and enjoy it. Plus, Paul and I both had panic attacks when we got back to overcrowded Brighton, and the thought of London is more than we can deal with. Finn did four shows on consecutive weeks in June, and I really meant to go, but, well -- didn't. The prospect of walking in woods is the only thing that seems to draw me out the door, except for work.

[tinhuviel.livejournal.com]

You must change this immediately because you know I live vicariously through you.