CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE #2
Soon all thirteen of the acolytes had taken their positions surrounding the sand circle.
They would stand there throughout the gathering until the high point of the ceremony.
They would not speak. Theirs was a silent order.
They spent their days in meditation, bringing their minds to bear entirely on the Shifting and its will.
Their combined energy fed its growth, and its dark power in turn imbued them with a singular gift, which they would be called upon to demonstrate before the night was over.
Only when these holy members of the society were in place did the rest of the followers rise up through the same stairwell.
The tunnel that had been constructed over twenty years before had proved a vital and effective route for gatherings, allowing them to be called without fear of discovery.
There were four entrance points to the tunnels, each one a closely guarded secret, its whereabouts known only to those followers who would use it, and to Dragana herself.
It was knowledge handed down from one leader to the next, entrusted only to those who would unquestioningly give their lives for the cause.
As tradition required, the followers were dressed in their finest; evening gowns for the women, suits for the men.
They presented a glamorous and beautiful cohort, and well they might, for they were all of them successful, powerful, and fabulously wealthy.
These were men and women who had either been born to their inclusion, or been chosen through an extensive selection process, requiring nomination by three other followers, having to meet a string of exacting requirements.
The greatest of these was that they demonstrate their devotion to the Shifting and its progression.
Some had been asked to kill people. Others had been asked to renounce earlier allegiances.
A few had suffered expulsion from their own countries.
Many had turned their backs on their families and previous lives.
All had done so willingly in exchange for the benefits of belonging.
For while the Shifting was a terrible thing to behold and knew no compassion, its strength when wielded skilfully made great riches, illustrious careers, elevated social standing, and all manner of desirable things possible.
Soon all the available spaces were taken.
There was an excited murmuring, as anticipation of the ceremony grew.
At the end of each row of followers stood one of Dragana’s hand picked guards, all in their uniform of dark trousers and black hoodies.
Her predecessor would have winced at such modernism, but she knew the value of having her men invisible in the city.
Her two brothers emerged and came to stand either side of her.
Ever desperate not to incur their sister’s displeasure, they were exceptionally well turned out.
She smiled at them, bestowing a rare gesture of approval, partly to ensure their continued devotion, but mainly as a show of familial solidarity in front of the assembled company.
There were always those who would seek to take their progress a little too far.
Always better to present a show of unity with her siblings.
When the final follower climbed from the tunnel, a hush fell on the room.
All eyes followed the enormous figure, clad entirely in robes of black, a mask covering his face, as he marched to stand in front of Dragana.
His footfalls were so heavy they sent reverberations through the floor.
His fearsome strength was all the more terrifying when placed so close to the slim shape of his beloved Mistress. He knelt before her.
‘I act for the Shifting. I serve none other. I ask the mistress’s blessing for what I do.’
She reached out her hand. He took it and kissed it.
‘Your service is valued. Our blessing is given,’ she told him. ‘Stand, Branke.’
The colossus got heavily to his feet and moved to wait on the outside of the circle of acolytes.
Now the ceremony could begin.
A tense silence replaced the earlier chatter.
A single acolyte sang out a continuous ‘Aah!’ sharp and clear.
It was a thin, keening sound that penetrated and unsettled the mind.
After a moment, a second joined in with a note a semi-tone up from the first, giving a discordant twist to the sound.
A third started up with a note several steps down from the first. This continued until all thirteen of them were singing out their chosen note, circular breathing with practiced ease so that the noise was unceasing and unbroken.
The volume of the note grew and the singers swayed in small circles, slowly raising their hands.
Only when all of them had their hands raised directly upwards did the sound abruptly stop.
In the quiet that followed, the echo of the eery noise they had created lingered and vibrated around the cavernous warehouse.
When the final reverberation died away, Dragana stepped forwards.
‘Welcome,’ she said calmly, turning slowly to gaze around the entire space, making sure each and every one of the followers felt her see them, felt her know them, felt her scrutiny fall upon them.
‘This gathering was called so that we might bring all our minds and souls to bear on what lies ahead. So that we might recommit to our course. So that we might honour the Shifting and attest to its strength, and feed on that strength. Some of you will have attended many gatherings and witnessed many wondrous things. For others among you, this will be, beyond your own initiations, a new experience. You are all equally welcome here. You all have a part to play in what is to come. I must remind you that a gathering cannot be called without an offering, and you all know one will be made. We do not call you here lightly, for there are risks attendant on each occasion when we meet as one group. Such strength as we command is feared by others, and with good cause. I will tell you, then, the reason for our coming together. You will have been made aware of the growing challenge to our beliefs and aims. Some of you have spoken to me of your concerns. You fear that we are being assailed and that damage is being done, and the Shifting held back. I stand here and give you my word, this is not the case. We are growing in strength every day, every hour, every minute. The incidents you are aware of are evidence not of the power of our enemies, but of our own growth, and their fear of what we will become. You are privileged followers indeed, we all are, for we will be alive to witness the culmination of everything! The hour of the Shifting is upon us! Before the next full moon we will make our final move to defeat the one force that still stands against us. We have already breached their stronghold. We will summon all our strength and energy for a final assault, into the lair of their queen, and we will take our position at the pinnacle of power!’ She was shouting now, and the followers were with her, cheering at this news, calling out her name.
‘Victory is ours for the taking, brothers and sisters! I speak not of years but of weeks before the time of the Shifting begins!’
At this their shouts grew louder. She let them have their moment, let them release their own, dark, avaricious energy into the room.
As they shouted she turned to the shrine.
She lifted her left hand and held it up so that everyone could see what she was doing.
She took hold of her weighty signet ring and pressed the side, so that the engraved gold top slid out and then pivoted before clicking back into place.
Instead of her initials, there was only a small, precise shape cut out of the precious metal.
Dragana reached forwards and picked up the shard of blue stone, carefully pressing it into its place on the ring.
She turned and held her hand up again to resounding cheers from the company.
They clamoured, reaching towards her, all eyes on the shard, hungry as eagle chicks for their feed.
‘Let him be brought up!’ she called out.
Two hooded guards moved to the opening to the tunnel.
The followers fell quiet again, but there were gasps and whispers as a figure was dragged up from the stairwell.
A man, not large, his hands bound and a black hood covering his head and tied at the neck, was bundled into the room.
He staggered blindly and the guards took an arm each, holding him.
The followers began to whisper and sway, all of them eager for what was to come, each of them affected by it even now.
‘Bring him forward!’ Dragana instructed.
The prisoner was marched the length of the room and forced to kneel before her. He made no sound other than the muffled breathing through the hood. The way he moved suggested he was not a young man. Dragana nodded and one of the guards removed the hood.
His eyes dazzled by the sudden light, Deri blinked as he looked about him, attempting to make sense of where he was.
He had been beaten, his face bruised and lips and eyes swollen.
As things swam into focus he took in the assembled group, the acolytes, and, ultimately Dragana.
She watched him closely. If he was afraid, he hid it well.
She bore him a grudging respect for this.
He had reason to be terrified, after all.
She addressed her fellow followers again.