Latest Extract - Swarmthief's Dance

Snoot

Only their hands; their hands and the stark whiteness of their faces could be seen. The chamber was a medley of blacks and greys. They stared down at the dock, their cobalt eyes devoid of compassion.

'An egg sir. Ansanzi laid an egg.'

'Do you know what you're saying boy?'

Snoot nodded solemnly 'It's true sir.'

'It's heresy.'

In the darkness, Snoot could hear them moving; Ansanzi's swarm. On the very outside edge of his hearing, the clicking and rustling they made whispered like invisible fingers, raising the hairs on the nape of his neck as surely as if they walked across it with their swift weightless legs. Snoot steeled himself and walked across the chamber to stand above the pit, his bare feet soundless in the cold dark. He wasn't supposed to be here at this time of night but Veda, his mother, had left him no choice - even his best friend Pik knew Oshinti magic and she was a year younger than he; and a girl.

'Don't tell me you don't know Snoot,' she had mocked, 'It's easy. I've moved Sarlk's swarm five times now. I can show you with Ansanzi if you want.'

'Of course I know,' he lied, 'Ansanzi's special that's all. She's a Queen. Only Veda is allowed to move her... And me of course,' he ended lamely.

He could tell she didn't believe him, she tossed her dark hair back over her shoulder and stalked off; but not before giving him a withering look.

Snoot stared down into the pit. A hundred million tiny dragonflies crawled and flew, contained within the dimly lit space, their sapphire blue bodies bright and iridescent, the sound of their wings a hot, constant rhythm. The swarm was beautiful, Veda said, a thing of magic, a thing of power. Snoot didn't think so. His feet itched as though they were crawling across them - he wished he'd worn his boots. He didn't know, of course, how to move the swarm. Somehow, the sea of blue creatures could be made to become one entity - that was really Ansanzi - and she was beautiful. Bizarre and majestic, possession of Ansanzi was the envy of all. Her bright blue abdomen twelve spans long, her wingspan double that length. Snoot had ridden her behind Veda twice and the flight of the creature haunted his dreams; the sound of her purring wings filling the dark corners of his room like a warm song. After a week of almost sleepless nights he thought perhaps Ansanzi was calling to him but now he was less sure, maybe the Oshinti magic was a female thing after all...

Sighing, he was about to turn away to go back to bed when he noticed the phial. It lay on the lacquered wooden sill which ran around the glass dome of the pit. There was something random about it, as though it had been dropped by accident and had rolled into this position. Snoot picked it up and held it up to the light. It was a long crystalline shape which contained a thin blue liquid, he glanced between the pit, the phial and the swarm; the possible connections between them seeming intangible, just out of reach. Pulling the rubber stopper from the end, Snoot sniffed. It's smell was slightly musky and organic. A movement from the pit demanded his attention, a blue surging wave. As though with one thought, the swarm had travelled to the end of the pit where Snoot stood - the strange smell had attracted them, pulled them like an irresistible force.

One thought... Snoot smiled broadly. Pushing the stopper back into the phial, he looked more closely at the glass dome which sealed Ansanzi's lair. At the apex of the glass there was a slight dimple which was long and cylindrical. It suddenly seemed blindingly clear. For a moment Snoot felt cheated. 'Oshinti magic eh?' he whispered, realising his words would be considered blasphemous even as he spoke them. He glanced briefly heavenward as though the Goddess who watched over all the Swarms - may be frowning down on his daring experiment.

Snoot leaned forward, his arm outstretched and then groaned aloud as he realised he was too small to reach the top of the glass. He had always been small.

'SmallSnoot, SmallSnoot, SmallSnoot...' Pik's laughter seemed to ring around the chamber and even in the darkness outside the ring of light which illuminated his goal, Snoot's cheeks burned with impotent anger. Stepping onto the sill, he threw his body forward wrapping his arms around the curvature of the glass. Another groan escaped him as he fought to control the vision of the glass breaking and the swarm covering him with their insect blue. His face was pressed against the cold surface but it seemed as though an alien heat was reaching through the thickness of the dome... This was nonsense he knew, insects possessed no soul and therefore, no heat. So Veda had told him.

Straining every sinew in his legs and arms he reached upwards for the apex of the dome questing with the extended phial until, with a high-pitched crystalline 'clink', he found the groove. Pushing forward with his fingertips he slid the phial into position and then sank back gratefully to sit on the edge of the sill. He was warm and sweaty with exertion and as he wiped his sticky hair back from his brow, he realised that his fingers were wet with the blue liquid. He stared into the pit.

Just beneath the glass dimple, the liquid drizzled onto the massed insects beneath. Snoot thought that he would see their transformation for the first time but quickly realised that, in fact, no one ever really saw it. Seconds was all the time the transformation took. Before Snoot's shaky breath had returned to it's former slow rhythm Ansanzi was in the pit. With a flash of blue fire the swarm had merged to produce something more than simply the sum of their parts. They were like cells now, Veda had said each with a separate job in Ansanzi's form, just as the cells within his own body did. In a way, they had ceased to be... given something away in order to be Ansanzi.

Slowly, the mechanism which was triggered by the concentrated weight of the huge insect raised her from the pit. The glass dome slid back with a hiss which echoed like a sigh around Veda's chamber. Snoot stared at Ansanzi and the huge insect stared back unblinkingly with an iridescent gaze. Snoot felt cheated. Veda and all the Oshinti priests said that moving a swarm was an act of special magic... Well, perhaps they never actually said that; implied was closer to the truth. They had other magic also but their ability to move and control the Swarms was the centre of their power. Snoot was only nine summers but he sensed that he had stumbled on something... dangerous.

'Well Ansanzi,' his voice was a quiet shaky whisper which sounded to Snoot like a shout in the silence of the night, 'it's... it's a liquid that does it.' He sniffed his fingers which still carried the potent smell. As if from nowhere a though formed in his mind and he frowned towards the creature in concern.

'Does it hurt you Ansanzi?'

Ansanzi did not react to his voice, she was preening her antennae with her front limbs; it made a small rasping noise which was disconcerting. Her abdomen was moving, vibrating slightly which Snoot had never seen her do before.

Snoot turned to leave the chamber, Ansanzi could not escape. Veda would find her in the morning and there would be some explaining to do. Never mind, perhaps Ansanzi would enjoy her night of freedom and would have a little fly around the...

'Snooot.'

Snoot turned...

'You say she spoke to you?'

'Yes sir.'

'This was before she laid the egg?' The priest's voice was filled with mockery and contempt. Snoot blinked back the sting of tears and glanced toward Veda. She was also a judge. She smiled a small tight smile which did not reach her eyes. If Snoot was judged a heretic, Veda's position would be under threat. 'Just tell the truth Simeon,' she said quietly.

'Did you... Did you just?' There was a sensation in his head, as though something was giving his brain tiny sharp slaps or stings.

'Snoot?' (Sting.) 'Am Ansanzi.' (Sting. Sting.) 'Not talk. Thinking am.'

'Oh. I can feel you thinking Ansanzi. It hurts.' This sounded a bit churlish so Snoot swiftly corrected himself. 'Well, not 'hurt' exactly... really. I can just feel it.'

'Help me Snoot.' (Sting. Sting.) Ansanzi began to walk slowly towards him and in the semi-darkness her huge spindly movement - potentially so fast and deadly - was frightening. Snoot stepped backwards and then was ashamed of his fear.

'Help Ansanzi.' (Sting. Sting.) 'Ansanzi dying am.' (Sting. Sting.) She buzzed her wings which Snoot guessed to be an expression of grief.

'Dying? I'm sorry Ansanzi. Veda tells me you are very old. At least one hundred of our years...'

'Veda!' The sting was sharper now, leaving no doubt of the creatures feelings for her mistress.

'Oww!' Snoot yelped.

'I am...' she seemed to be lost for the word.

'Sorry?' Snoot ventured.

'Yes. Veda not knowing Ansanzi. Not thinking Ansanzi... alive.'

Snoot nodded. It was true. Veda had often said that all the Creatures of the Swarms could not be true living souls because they were composed of many entities. They were like living machines - she had said - and the only 'soul' they could possess would be of the millions of tiny insects which comprised them. Does a single beetle have a soul Snoot? she had smiled. I don't think that's something we need worry about - do you?

Ansanzi was moving again, that curious jerking of her abdomen which she had been doing before.

'Ansanzi, what are you... Oh.'

'That's when she laid the egg sir. Right there in front of me.'

Oh really boy, this is too much. How could such a creature lay an egg when she is composed of a swarm? What do you propose? Even were it possible, she had no contact with a male of her kind.'

Snoot could feel the warm buzz of temper in the pit of his stomach. ' I don't know sir, I didn't stop to ask her.

'Simeon.' It was Veda. 'If you persist in this... tale, I cannot help you.'

The egg was not round. There was a slight gelatinous noise as it appeared at the end of Ansanzi's abdomen which she lowered to place the object straight on the ground. It was covered in a clear gel but beneath it was a pearlescent grey, its surface scored thousands of times in an intricate fantastic design. Snoot stared at the egg, his breath catching in his throat. This never happens - his brain insisted, but there it was. As full of life and potential as any egg had ever been.

'It's beautiful Ansanzi' he whispered.

'Take Snoot. Run far.' Her urgency made the stings harder to bear but her anguish was unmistakable.

'Run?'

'Run far' she urged. 'Hide Ansanzi's egg. Here.'

There was no sting this time, rather something that felt like a hard slap. Otherwise unannounced, a picture appeared in Snoot's mind; a tiny plateau in the sharp black rocks of the mountainside on west face where the sun seldom reached. A large, knarled cypress tree and beneath the tree...

'When I come back Ansanzi... will you be...' the question hung unanswered in the darkness and Snoot could think of nothing to say to the extraordinary creature. He paused staring into the huge alien face and wondering at his feelings of sadness and empathy.

'I will go and hide your egg Ansanzi... I'm sorry that I will not speak with you again.'

'Ansanzi die now. Snoot. Be kind. We are... Many. Good-bye Snoo... Sim-ee-on.'

'So. Where is this miracle? Let us see the egg of a swarm.'

'I destroyed it sir. I - I put it in the incinerator beneath the temple.'

'Ah, very fitting.' The judge raised a grey eyebrow.

'Snoot.'

'Yes Mother?'

'Is it not possible that you... dreamed this?'

'You saw. You found her in the morning.'

Veda nodded, her face pale remembering the blue, blue ashes which she swept away; unable to lose the impression that the millions of tiny lives had ended at the same split second. The second Ansanzi - the soulless creature - had passed away.

'She was very old Simeon.'

Snoot hung his head. 'Yes.'

'Are you sure you did not dream it?'

Snoot looked up, eyes bright with unshed tears. He knew all he had to say was yes; yes, maybe it was a dream... He knew that Veda was giving him a way out.

'No' he said.

In truth it felt like a dream. Disjointed images of predawn colours which lurched as he ran were all he could remember. And the smell, the loamy woodland smell which mingled with the tart freshness of low cloud cover as he descended the mountainside. Then the warm darkness of the tiny cave which was barely more than a hole, a shelter from the elements. Had Ansanzi sought help from an adult instead of a boy, they would have been unable to climb inside and cover the precious object with bracken. He left it there as the dawn was breaking, stopping at the entrance to look back once at Ansanzi's silver treasure, the sound of his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.

The boy had been gone from the city for many years now. Talk of his heresy dissipated, trickling from memory as softly as the winter snow from the mountain. In the warm darkness the waters of the cloud-mist were draining away from the confines of the cave. The larvae felt the pull of the new dryness, it's skin stretching, drying until finally it split with a faint tearing noise. Otherwise soundlessly, Ansanzi's offspring was born. Green she was; emerald green. She would be called Ayshena. She spread her wings as wide as she could within her hiding place and waited patiently to dry off. Raising her eyes to the entrance where the warm sunset breeze blew, she stared out to the scurrying clouds.

'Snoot' she thought ' Must find he.'

Rann

She never knew.

She never knew that I thought she was beautiful; that behind my spite and malice had lain the weak blind desire of something less than Godly; that in fact, I had loved her.

She was the youngest of the Nulefi, the six spirits whose existence and movements dictated the cycles of the year for those beyond the veil. And it is too late to tell her what I felt those many years ago for I have destroyed her utterly. Well, I may say utterly - her spirit and that of her hateful sisters are banished to the void - and yet I know that to we whom men name Gods, eternity is but the blink of an eye - and should she return to taunt me I will embrace her anger as though she speaks tender words. For I have learned that eternity is lessened, diminished without her and I would rather have her hatred than nothing at all.

We Gods are born of Chaos, pure, cold and brilliant. Where a world begins we also come into form and none can truly say which blinks into existence first. Before belief we are there, guiding, moulding the awakening consciousness of our charges as if they are infants; bringing them to awareness and worship... sometimes we are forgotten by those that serve us and then...

...so you see, when I say Aria and her sisters were sisters, I am speaking figuratively. Only two Gods may make gods and demigods anew - Herrukal and Oshi - in fact, that is Oshi's main purpose. Perhaps, I simply mean the 'sisters' were always together, others thought of them as identical - created in the same image - but any close observer could have dispelled this belief. Aria was certainly different from the other five; dark, graceful and elegant, the artists amongst men have painted her image always, believing her a dream. But she was real - is real if the fates have denied me.

It was in the gardens of Imeris that I finally told her of my passion for her. Created by Imeris for his amusement, it was always warm. Scented breezes blew in from an ocean so blue as to be almost too intense - that was Imeris for you, subtlety was lost upon him - likewise the trees and flowers were just too, too perfect. True, the place had it's charm but it bored me rather quickly, no insects were suffered there, the lakes and streams - made and re-made by magic means - never grew weed or algae. Birds did appear, but of course only the beautiful varieties. Once as a joke, I left a couple of vultures fishing in the largest lake, Imeris wasn't amused but the sight of the clumsy brown creatures alighting and defecating on the marble statuary brought a smile to myself and my cohorts. Mischief was never far from my thoughts but in those days, when the world was still young, I had no grander malice in me... However I digress... on this occasion I sat before the lake vaguely appreciative of the tranquillity of the place. I should explain that my thoughts were not like those of a mortal may be in such a situation, no, I felt no anxiety or nervousness. I had summoned Aria and she would come - we Gods were nothing if not bound by courtesy - also, my agenda was different than that of a mortal... or at least I thought so then. If Aria agreed to my advances, we would couple immediately and perhaps agree to future liaisons - becoming what mortals may recognise as a 'pair' although we would never live together in the grubby co-dependant way of our charges. So my thoughts were already somewhat... shall we say salacious, anticipating the heady glory of Aria's physical and spiritual form. That is the other difference, our coupling would be more than simply physical... but why am I telling you all this when I may show you? I am a God after all... watch now...'

It is quiet in the gardens. The peaceful sounds of water and birds break the silence in such a way that their noise is only part of the stillness. The rich greens of the cypress trees and creeping flowering vines seem to stretch on forever - which in a way they do - the garden and it's few occupants are perched on the edges of time and those who visit assume the guise of mortals because it amuses them to have form.

Beside the lake a youth is sitting, staring into the water at his own features; they are square, the eyes too widely spaced, the nostrils flared.

'Wrong' he mutters, 'wrong colour.' He waves his hand almost irritably and the bright blue eyes transform to a startling vermilion green. Standing up he paces along the riverbank, his movements deliberately slow so as to feign patience to anyone watching. His stature is small but incredibly broad, the chest deep and his legs stocky - the blue loose robe he is wearing was designed to accentuate his eyes and he absent-mindedly changes this to green in an instant.

'Rann? There you are.' Aria smiles towards him from her vantage point on the sandstone folly at the end of the lake. 'I trust I haven't kept you waiting?'

He stops in mid-stride and stares towards her, slightly discomforted by her silent arrival, wondering if she has observed his vanity.

'Aria...' he still manages to sound almost casual 'Aria, I've asked you to meet me because I want... I want...' he gropes for the words mortals use to such effect in these situations.

'Yes?' She looks puzzled.

He smiles, a confident smile which has an edge of arrogance to it. ' I'd like you and I to couple. Together. Now.'

Her eyes widen in surprise. 'What?'

'Well, don't you want to?'

'Well I...'

'Aria...' he climbs onto the folly beside her and stands so close she can feel his hot breath on her face. He has perfect even teeth and it seems his smile has gained a feral edge.

'No...' She steps back. His smile disappears. He frowns, unable to comprehend her refusal.

'Rann, I haven't even seen you for years, perhaps a century... why?'

'But I have seen you Aria. I have watched you often.' He reaches forward and touches her soft cheek - it is a greedy covetous gesture, lacking any tenderness and she flinches back. 'My passion has grown in the darkness of my realm. With only the dead for company what hope have I of brightness, of love?' His voice is solicitous and his hand begins to slip down towards her breast.

'Love' she spits, contempt surfacing on her face. 'Have you borrowed that word as you have the appearance you wear? Get your hands off me Rann.' Knocking his still outstretched hand away she turns to leave.

'I - I am sorry Aria...' she stops although she does not turn around. 'Perhaps I expressed myself badly... I am unused to speaking so.'

But when she turns to face Rann it is clear the damage has been done; her expression remains cold. 'You cannot help what you are Rann - you must content yourself because it will always be this way... forever. You come from the darkstuff at the beginnings of creation - do not aspire to the light.' Then, because she is angry and afraid of his clumsy advances she seeks to belittle him. 'Look at yourself. Go and look in the water. You have tried - have you not - to make yourself attractive to me because of our meeting? You cannot do it Rann. You are dark and ugly to the core.'

She senses she has gone too far, her face is flushed now and she picks up her red skirts to flee the scene.

'No!' Rann is almost incoherent with rage. 'Stop!' He reaches out towards her and sends out Koshurit -the binding energy he uses on the restless spirits of the dead. Aria is frozen in motion, her skirts still swirling in the air behind her. Rann fights to control his anger, he could strike her down now, she is beneath him in caste and wields less power than his own. He cannot bring himself to do it though.

Walking around to face her he stares into her eyes; Aria's expression is frozen as an instant in time and she cannot disguise her fear. Although Rann feels secret dismay at her reaction he does not allow her to see his hurt. Concealed and revealed - their emotions hang between them also frozen, so that it seems the scented jasmine air is tainted.

'You are wrong Aria.' Rann says at last, 'I am not truly ugly. Had you existed as I have for aeons you would know what ugliness is - you would have seen it in the hearts and souls of mortals as I have. But I will not be denied you.' He clicks his fingers and Aria's robe vanishes, leaving her naked and vulnerable. Although astonished at her beauty Rann feigns contempt. He leers at her and steps towards her to assault her body - his intention is to despoil her beauty as revenge for his hurt - although he knows she can remake herself with ease, he needs the satisfaction. After another click of his fingers, he too is naked. The warm breezes in the gardens play against his form making his skin pleasingly sensitive. Although Aria's body is frozen in motion - her arms outstretched as she fled - he takes her by the wrist and moves under her arms as though into an embrace. Their bodies are touching now and Rann is shocked by the warmth of physical contact - a new sensation.

'Rann. Please...' she cannot speak in her frozen form but she contacts his mind. 'Release me and I will leave enough animation behind in this body for you to have your sport.' her voice sounds deceptively calm but there is an edge of panic there. He steps back.

'But Aria. You know I deal in souls only. It is you I want. You. This...' he waves dismissively towards her, 'shell - we both know it is only a beautiful container for your soul. Nothing I do to it will change that. So I may as well take it - listening to your pleas will only heighten my pleasure.' He moves to stand between her legs again, stroking her thigh and delighting in the sensation.

'But Rann... if that is true - if it is me you really want - this is a simple misunderstanding. Release me and I will show you the willing pleasures that mortals enjoy. Look.' She sends a sense picture to his mind of she and Rann on the grass were they now stand, entwined in each others embrace; lying on Aria's red robe, their limbs wrapped around one another. Rann groans aloud, his desire almost unbearable.

'Do you want me Rann?' she whispers.

'Yes.' His guile is as nothing beside her own. He releases her from Koshurit and does not see the flicker of her gaze as she casts around for help. She does allow him to kiss her but does not respond or return the kiss. It hardly matters; it is the first he has ever experienced in his long existence. She pushes him gently away, smiling. 'My robes? Can we not have something on which to lie?'

'Oh yes...' distractedly, he turns around and she seizes her chance to run. She knows she cannot escape alone and she cannot leave her body fast enough, so she screams aloud for her sisters to come to her aid. She is still screaming when he catches up with her, flinging her to the ground. She cuts her lips on a stone as she hits the bare dry earth. They struggle, all Godly magics forgotten for the moment. Unnoticed by either of them the skies above the garden darken and thunder begins to rumble in the distance, their violence has unbalanced Imeris' playground. Rann is still aroused and Aria's resistance feeds his desire. Finally, he has her pinned, unable to move. Soil is sticking to her sweat covered skin, moss and twigs are caught in her dark hair so that she appears almost to have grown out of the garden itself. As it begins to rain, he wipes the dirt and blood from her mouth and bends to kiss her roughly; she cries out in pain.

'Let her go Rann! Now!'

Her sisters have arrived.

'So you see, it was her fault. She taunted me. And they should have kept out of it. It's not as though I would have done her any permanent damage... instead, began something which would ultimately destroy them and cause me pain in the meantime. What's that? You want to see the rest? Very well then - but I must warn you that the Nulefi do not equit themselves with any dignity as far as I am concerned...'

The five new arrivals in the gardens look like Aria at first appearance, tall graceful women. They rush towards Rann and their helpless sister as Rann gets up and begins to flee. He knows their strength when together and - by nature, a coward - will not risk the confrontation if he can avoid it; but he cannot. Fajr, the eldest and strongest, seeing her sister bleeding and distressed, screams after him. As she approaches, her anger transforms her into the wind of her season; she howls around Rann, a raging biting torment, wrapping his form in cold pain. The other three are upon him now, they grab hold of his flailing limbs and move him backwards towards the columns of the folly before he can recover from Fajr's attack and defend himself. Aria is on the ground, although she is sitting up now she is still crying, her face in her hands. In the midst of his pain he calls out to her but she does not hear and forgiveness is beyond her. On reaching the middle of the folly Rann feels icy bonds around his wrists and ankles. He knows in that moment that instead of calling out to Aria, he should have fought harder because the Nulefi are merciless in their rage. They bind his limbs to the four pillars at the corners of the structure with cords made of icy cold, saying nothing to their victim. As he comes to his senses and begins to call his own words of power, they stuff his mouth with leaves and grasses. Above the scene, the skies have darkened further and cold drops of heavy rain mottle his body. When he is bound to their satisfaction, the Nulefi take short curved knives from their belts and begin to mutilate his flesh. It is purely symbolic, they know he will remake himself and perhaps, that is their point, because he feels the lancing pain of every cut and incision, unable to take his leave of the body whilst at the extreme of heightened sensation. Refusing - or unable - to scream, he groans and gargles deep in his throat - promising his revenge - focussing on the strangely beautiful sight of Aria weeping, clutching at her red robe and wiping the blood from her face.

When they are finished, the Nulefi sheath their knives and turn to leave. Fajr stands in front of Rann and stares into his blood and sweat clouded eyes.

'Never touch her again' she says. 'Never.'

Then they go, taking Aria with them. At the last moment, he manages to spit the gag from his mouth and he calls out to her; his voice a harsh agonised noise, unsure of what he wants to say.

'Aria...'

She turns back towards him and for a tiny moment there is pity in her gaze as she considers the bloody mess of Rann's body, but then she smiles, a cruel contortion of her beautiful features and blows an exaggerated kiss. The last he hears is her laughter.

And the God Rann is angry. Not because of the pain - he would have dealt no less - but because they have beaten and humiliated him who is greater than they. Once they have gone he gives vent to his anger and shame; screaming after them and pulling down the columns of the folly using the bonds they had tied him with. The heavens roar a response. A cataclysmic storm assails Imeris' garden; the winds whip across the lake, ripping the trees from the ground, lifting the plants into a green-brown frenzy. The rain turns the earth to dark liquid as though it would melt away the stain of Rann's aggression and in the ruins of the folly a naked maniacal figure capers and screams, as the blood from his wounds is washed into lesser red. As his fury dies away, so does the storm, until, as the rain becomes softer, almost caressing, he curls up within the lea of a toppled column, hugging his knees as his blood drains into the earth. His skin is white now, pure white like a marble statue, and his shoulders are moving... the God is... crying...?

'Stop it. Stop now. I say what you can see. Did you see what they did with their stupid little knives? I know... I know I handled it badly. Aria just wasn't prepared that's all. But then, it became like a war, a campaign between us. Especially after I discovered the damage they had done me... I thought I could re-make myself perfectly but look at this - right down the centre of my face. I petitioned Imeris for healing but he was so furious at the destruction of his garden he denied me. And so my anger became a dark simmering thing and I watched Aria for another millennium from the shadows of her life. Often it seemed as though she felt my presence, she would turn and gaze towards my hiding place, a puzzled look on her face. Occasionally, she would smile and in those moments I truly felt she mocked me. I was waiting my chance for revenge although I had not decided whether to spare her when the time came, for her sisters there would be no quarter...

When finally the day came, the circumstances of Aria's downfall were something of a surprise to me. Aria fell in love with a mortal. You should understand that although Aria was not a Goddess herself , she was amongst those beings who you may refer to as Godly, on the lower echelons of divinity - and as such, union with a mortal was denied her. Whilst it was deemed perfectly permissible to elicit the love and passion of our charges - even to use them at our whim, there could be no real relationship of meaning. Apart from any 'ethical' concerns, the cold reality of being immortal would mean watching the object of ones affection decay before ones eyes. If I speak of it with disdain, it is because I have tried it for my amusement... it is like keeping a pet - one must accept the inevitable at the outset, and living with the knowledge of the others demise is emotionally tiresome in the extreme. So Aria fell in love but she was not content to let go of her lover; I knew because I was there when she told him...'

The evening is hot and Ceer sits waiting listlessly in the field, the drone of the bees carrying his mood perfectly into the uncaring mountains. She said she would come tonight and he believes her, although the men of the village have begun to laugh at him, thinking his tales to be the sign of bored intelligence. He smiles to himself, he can tolerate their nudges and their jokes because only he knows that Aria is real. Below him, propped up against the side of the tree in which he sits, his bag contains the song he has written for her - and when she comes he will sing it. She loves to hear him sing - his voice is strong and lyrical - and although she asks him to sing songs which he feels are too romantic, he doesn't really mind. He would do anything for Aria.

Then she is there. Sitting in the tree branches next to him. It is one of the reasons he knows she is special - like a faire or changeling - she just appears.

'My dearest Ceer' she whispers. She leans forwards and kisses him lightly, her dark hair brushing his chest. 'I need to speak with you. Will you walk with me a while?'

He nods and leaps down from the branch then holds his arms out to catch her as she follows. As she comes pliantly into his embrace he kisses her again, more eagerly this time, the warmth of passion stealing through his frame.

'No, no' she chides him gently, 'we must talk Ceer. Not here though...' she glances around almost furtively, ' let's walk into the sunlight.' She takes his hand and leads him into the meadow. Evening moths fly out from the tall grasses as they walk, the tired sunlight catching their wings; flashing silver.

'Is something wrong Aria? Don't you want me to sing?'

'Maybe later. Ceer, what do you think I am?'

Ceer mistakenly imagines she is 'fishing for a compliment', his brother has told him women do this - however, he is not adept with women and is unsure what he can say to make Aria happy. Looking slightly uncomfortable, he gives a lopsided grin.

'I think you are beautiful Aria.'

She does smile but then she shakes her head. 'No Ceer, I mean, do you think I am a spirit, a vision...? What?'

He shrugs. 'I think you are a changeling Aria. It's the only way I can understand you.'

'What is a changeling exactly?'

'It's a babe who is born after it's mother is favoured by the Gods... well one God in particular obviously. Usually Imeris.'

'Hmm.' Aria sits down on a log in the middle of the field and idly plucks a cornflower, 'well, you are close to the mark my love, but I have no mortal blood at all.'

'Oh.' Ceer looks stunned and sits down heavily beside her. 'You are... immortal then?' He grins again, 'that means you're going to live forever Aria. I think that's beautiful.'

She groans in mild frustration. It's not that Ceer was stupid exactly but then he wasn't a complex man given to sophisticated thought either - that's partly why she loved him.

'But Ceer - don't you see? That means I'll be always like this and you... you will grow old and die.'

'So? I would have anyway, even if I'd never met you... it doesn't bother us mortals much generally, we're born with the knowledge of our death within us,' he picks a dandelion and pulls one of its white heads off, ' like a seed. That is why we are such self-destructive creatures.'

Aria says nothing for a moment but stares at his broad handsome face. Ceer did this often - just as she was in the throws of deciding she only really wanted him for his beauty, he would say something so astute she would be amazed.

'But it doesn't have to be like this' she says finally. ' I can change it.'

'There. That's when her doom was sealed, when she said it: 'I can change it.' I was watching from the treeline and I knew her plan the instant she voiced those words. Aria would take the soul of Ceer and ensure it was reborn immortal through mystic means - it had been done before - it was, in your terms, strictly illegal. In fact the soul of that last God who had attempted the counterfeit of souls did still reside in the darkest reaches of my realm... as I thought this, I realised that Aria's plan could work to my advantage; given charge of her soul for all eternity, I could surely make her love me. First, her plan must be foiled, she must be found out... but I am getting ahead of myself again... First, in order for her plan to proceed, Ceer must die. I guessed she would use a poison...'

'Poison?' Ceer looks doubtfully at the vial Aria holds out to him. A tiny amount of blue liquid is in the glass tube, 'It doesn't look much does it?'

'Trust me Ceer, it is enough. Your death will be instant and painless. But alone amongst mortals - it will only be temporary. You do want to be with me forever don't you?'

He shrugs, 'Forever is a long, long time Aria. You will tire of me I know it and then where will I be...?'

Again, she is amazed by his quiet astuteness but she laughs lightly. 'It will not matter to you Ceer - we will be equals you and I. Immortal. In love forever.' She reaches out and touches his face and he kisses her hand. 'Are you afraid my love?'

'Yes. I would be a fool to pretend would I not? I never imagined my death could be so glorious. Kiss me once more Aria.'

She does so and immediately their lips are parted he drinks the poison. She has done her work well, he dies without a sound. Aria glances around once nervously and touches one hand to his heart and the other to his temple. She is taking his soul for safekeeping. Then she is gone once more.

Dusk is falling when the villagers find Ceer's body. Torches are lit and a small crowd gathers. No one can see what killed the young man and they cluster around speaking in hushed tones. They shake their heads and make signs to ward off evil. Only a thin trail of blue across his cheek would give any clue should they care to notice. But they will not; tales of vampyree and restless spirits haunt these valleys and Ceer is marked down as one of their victims. Beside the tree, the song he never sang, rests unnoticed.

'Tragic is it not? I almost felt for the poor deluded soul. The real tragedy is of course that he died for nothing... actually, I can't think what became of his soul in the end. I only know that Aria did not complete her plan because, well, frankly, I messed things up for her. I told Imeris what I knew and he told Herrukal who was furious. You see, it was not the first time such a plan had been tried and that last soul who had been punished for the same reason, had been beloved of Herrukal, and he had dealt harshly with him to allay any whispers of favouritism. He summoned Aria before him to answer for her crime and because they came as a kind of set, the Nulefi all came too. I was there of course, to see my moment of triumph, I hid behind the pillars of Itauc and Iyaur - those which support the heavens - and moved as close as I dared. I did not wish the Nulefi to see me or they would know my hand in Aria's betrayal. Nor did I wish Herrukal to be influenced by my presence; The Creator scorns me ever and harries me at every turn, if he thought the proceedings were to cause some benefit to myself, he may temper his judgement and I would lose my heart's desire.'

'What say you Aria of the Nulefi? The counterfeit of souls is a crime - an offence against our laws. We have but few and I would have them obeyed.'

The huge figure of Herrukal leans forward in his seat, his brows knitted in a furious frown. Of all the Gods only Herrukal the Creator manifests himself in the same form constantly, allowing his visage to become an almost racial memory to the mortals he watches over. Aria stands before him, slightly forwards from her five sisters who stand defiantly with their arms folded. They all wear black as befits their penitence but their expression belies this effort. Only Aria has her head bowed but even she has flouted tradition and worn her whip and knife before Herrukal. After a moment when she has said nothing in her defence Herrukal sighs and sits back. He seems about to speak when Aria decides to defend her position.

'It's not fair,' she comments slightly petulantly, 'mortals are allowed to love - we should be too.'

'And why do we give them this blessing child?' Herrukal's frown becomes thunderous. 'Why?' he repeats.

She bites her lip, knowing her position is in fact untenable. 'Because they die,' she acknowledges, ' Because without each other they would despair.'

'It is only fair Aria that I mete you the same punishment as I did Tanuk...' Aria staggers back as though struck and the Nulefi gasp as one. '...your soul is forfeit and will be sent to Rann to be recovered when the day of our ending comes.

'No, no... please Herrukal, don't do this...' the Nulefi begin to plead tearfully. A shadow moves behind the pillars of Itauc and Iyaur as the God Rann can hardly contain his delight and begins to dance for joy. But then, something so unexpected happens that it will forever be remembered in the annals of the Gods. It will be generally acknowledged that the Nulefi - especially Fajr were only acting true to their nature but still, it was glorious in its stupidity.

'No.' Fajr's voice rings out, cold and calm. 'We Nulefi will not allow this.' She motions the startled Aria to get behind her and the other sisters close around her in a protective circle. Drawing their weapons - a whip and knife - they begin to move backwards from the chamber. Herrukal underestimates them, when he speaks his voice is incredulous.

'You dare defy me? What purpose will it serve you to leave this place? I will hunt you down in an instant.' He is almost laughing but his laughter is cut short as Fajr reaches out - with a motion so fast none anticipate her action - and grabs Luak, Herrukal's favoured minstrel. Fajr holds her curved blade to the quaking adolescents throat.

'Like to hear him sing a bit higher Herrukal?' she snarls. Herrukal pales slightly but then remembers himself and signals to his guard of sentinels. In the space of seconds it seems, Fajr realises what she is doing, that there can be no taking back her actions and all she has done is chosen to make a stand and die for Aria's right to love a mortal.

Still, the strength of the Nulefi is a sight to behold; the fight is fast and furious, the sentinels rush forward with their hauberks lowered only to have their weapons whipped from their grasp by the leather whips of their foe. Aria herself kills one of the guard and there is a flash of purple light as his soul blinks out of existence. The Nulefi fight as though possessed, screaming aloud profanities never before uttered in the presence of Herrukal, their piercing calls soaring into the vaults of Herrukal's Halls, their black hair and cloaks a whirling mass of darkness from which the silver flash of their knives stab and slash. Below, in the realm of mortals, great storms rage, the seas rise up and swallow whole cities, tornados smash the land, toppling palaces and mud buildings alike in response to the anger of the Gods. It seems for fleeting moments that the Nulefi can win an impossible victory, but they are hopelessly out-numbered. Finally they are surrounded by the sentinels who lock their shields to form a cage of sorts around them.

'Enough!' Herrukal thunders. 'You dare? You dare defy me?' Never before have the Gods seen the white fury at the heart of Herrukal's nature. Never has chaos threatened to overwhelm him. For long moments there is silence. The sentinels shift uncomfortably aware of their vulnerable position so close to the Nulefi should Herrukal strike out against them. From behind the pillars of Itauc and Iyaur steps Rann - although Herrukal does not acknowledge him at first - sensing that he will soon become guardian of the souls of all the Nulefi, unable to hide his triumphant sneer. Herrukal steps down from the dais of his throne and walks towards the group; before them lay the casualties of the short skirmish - three sentinels, and Luak, slain by Fajr. When next he speaks, his voice is measured as he fights for control of his anger.

'Look what you have done. None may replace his song. Never.' He pauses as his sandalled feet tread on the hem of the fallen minstrel's robe. 'This will be your punishment,' he says quietly. There is just time for the Nulefi to notice the tears in his eyes before he waves his hand. And they are gone.

There is a stunned silence. Then a voice rings out in anguish.

'No...' It is Rann. He knows instinctively that their souls are not his because he senses the traffic to his kingdom as though it is his heartbeat. The other Gods are puzzled by his outburst.

'Herrukal. Where are they? What have you done?'

'What? More defiance?'

'No... no my Lord' Rann steps back again hastily but is unable to contain himself. 'But where are they? They have not entered my realm...'

Herrukal is unmoved by his petition. 'Nor will they. The souls of the Nulefi are forfeit - their spirits scattered to the ether.' He gives Rann a piercing look, 'They are as gone as they can be Rann.'

...as gone as they can be. Even Aria. My Aria... What the great Lord Herrukal meant of course, is that the souls of Gods - even demigods - can never truly be obliterated. No. We are part of the fabric of existence and the destruction of one Godly soul - never mind six - is... almost impossible. So I was denied my love, my spite and my revenge. All the dark dreams I had conjured of my sweet conquest of Aria's soul - our eventual omnipotent rule together - when she accepted that my desire was bigger and darker than any idea she may cherish of mortals and their weak spewling 'love' - crushed. Crushed by Herrukal's moment of passion. Alone again, but now painfully aware of the ache of my solitude, I plotted my new revenge against Herrukal and the others of our kind because I was tired of their contempt.

Aeons have passed in darkness...

But now, a soul has entered my kingdom which may change everything. In life his name was Elias...