Forefathers' Eve
* In the description of the ritual I used the immortal "Dziady part. II" by Adam Mickiewicz (translated by Charles S. Kraszewski – Glagoslav Publications Ltd.; I wrote it in italics) and hellishly atmospheric "Lilla Weneda" by Juliusz Słowacki (my own translation; I wrote it in a straight, common font), mixing them together, rearranging and adding my own words here and there (I hope that the gentlemen do not rolling over in their graves);
** The whole word content of the ritual song is the "Sol Invictus" song by Żywiołak band (also the English translation; I wrote it in bold).
It was evening of the last day of October. Autumn has come to its full, although in Liwia's view the Greek fall had not been much different from a summer. The girl was used to the fact, that in similar season she usually wore up heavy boots, which could protected against bad weather and the first frosts and put on kilos of wool sweaters, so that the limbs would not fall off from a cold during the five-minute journey. Here, the dog-days were lasting endlessly, the clothes were fading from the sun and never-ending laundry, the skin was tanning to the golden shade. It was easy to forget about worries when the weather was convincing that all-season holidays are actually possible.
She stretched like a cat and yawned loudly. She recalled her last dancing with Milo – just like during the first time, it turned out that in dance matter they were made for each other. She had no idea if it was good, but she was looking forward to going out with him again. Finally, she didn't feel lonely when everyone around was celebrating the weekend, hanging out with friends from club to club.
She awoke from pensive mood and jumped down from the sun-heated stone block. She had done everything that belonged to her duties that day, so only a pleasant walk to the cottage and a well-deserved night rest awaited her. At least, she thought so.
"There you are!" From among the ruins emerged the figure of Noesis, the Silver Triangle Knight. The man was older than her by a decade and in the Sanctuary he was treated like an elder brother for all Silvers. Now he seemed more serious than usual, which could have been alarming. "You have guests. They were asking about you in Rodorio, so the villagers sent one of their own to the training ground."
"What guests?" The Polish girl felt a slight twinge of excitement. If anyone could visit her, it would be one of three people: her aunt, her master or Janek. She saw no other option. In any case, Liwia would be extremely happy.
"A strange group," said Noesis, slightly worried. "Seven women of different ages, two men and an old man. Peculiarly dressed. They didn't speak Greek or English, so people in Rodorio were a little confused, but finally they figured out that these weird guests were talking about you."
Liwia was completely stunned. At first, she couldn't put two and two together, so she was unsuccessfully trying to find a group of friends who matched the description. Finally, however, a grim supposition arose in her head.
"Day. What day is it today?" she asked the knight, still deluding herself that she was mistaken.
"Er... Friday? The thirty-first of October. Why do you ask?"
"Because it seems," the girl said with flat tone, "that the dead claim their attention on their feast day."
The Grand Master walked back and forth across the red carpet. It apparently helped him gather his thoughts.
"Wait. Are you telling me, that these people came here to help you perform a ritual tonight to free the spirits of your countrymen's ancestors from some evil forces?"
"Not exactly, Grand Master," Liwia scratched her head. The whole situation was uncomfortable for her, because now she had to explain herself to the knights' superior, as if she had done something wrong. And it certainly wasn't her fault. "The Dziady ritual, that is Forefathers' Eve ritual is to help us communicate with our ancestors, who in this one night have the opportunity to temporarily fastened themselves in our world to give us advice about the present and future of our country. This is useful knowledge, but the fragility of the veil between the worlds that occurs on the night of November 1, enhanced by the power of the ritual, is always used by demons. They are first to break through the border and they must be overcome, if we want to see the spirits of ancestors at the Congregation. So chasing them away is in our interest," she finished with a slightly sour face.
"But you said that your master, the Silver Knight of the Swallow, usually takes part in the ritual, except when Forefathers' Eve is a voluntary, final attempt before receiving the armor."
"That's true," Liwia sighed. "A year ago I took part in Forefathers' Eve to prove myself and show my master that I was worth wearing Silver Fox Armor. And I passed the test, so I can't understand the decision of the Congregation. When I came to Rodorio they simply demanded my participation. They wandered all this way, fighting against time, because of their conviction that I must be the one to clear the path for ancestral spirits. And they looked deadly serious. They had a letter from my master. It's in English." The girl pulled a letter from her pocket and handed it to the Grand Master.
The man was reading the letter in silence, until he looked up at the girl.
"He also doesn't seem delighted, and yet he is asking for help. Why?"
"Our country..." Liwia paused, feeling some strange shame. As if these matters should in principle remain at the discretion of her countrymen, as if complaining to strangers was a form of betrayal. Finally, she considered it unwise. "Our country is currently in a difficult situation, the moods are not the best, we can say that we are facing a breakthrough. We just don't know in what shape we will get out of this breakthrough," she sighed and continued: "The ancestors never spoke directly, but gave veiled advice, scraps of vision, a word of warning. The Congregation interprets it, which apparently has helped to avoid a total disaster. At least that's what was said."
"So you want to test yourself once again to help your country, I understand. But I don't understand why it has to be you? What happened a year ago that the Congregation decided to follow you so far?"
"I... I don't know, Grand Master." Liwia hung her head. "It's not like I didn't fulfill my duties last time, my master is a witness. I asked Guślarz about it, that is the Shaman, the chairman of the Congregation, but he replied only, that in a dreamy vision it were the ghosts themselves who ordered him to do so. Sounds like a fairy tale, I realize," the girl smiled wryly. "But there is no time for other options."
Shion stood and stared at his subordinate without blinking.
"You need my permission."
"Yes, Grand Master." Liwia bowed her head humbly. "I am not delighted with this whole situation, but for the greater good I should take part in Dziady."
"But we're not in Poland. Is the Congregation certain that this will work in our lands?"
Liwia scratched her head again. She was already completely disheveled.
"The Shaman claimed that yes, that important are the Polish Congregation and the Polish Fire Dancer, that is the participant. That is me," she said in explanatory words. She cleared her throat. "Apparently, country does not matter, but, ironically, a specific place does."
"That means…?"
"Cemetery. Forefathers' Eve is celebrated in the cemetery," she spoke more and more quietly, as if the scenery of the graves could be the last straw. Liwia just waited for the Grand Master to burst out laughing, considering it all to be a very original joke. "At midnight."
"Of course, how else," Shion muttered, slightly lifting the corners of his mouth. "And you don't need cups full of virgins' blood?"
"For my experience: no, Grand Master. But torches could be useful. And a lot of food along with a drink."
"For the Congregation?"
"For ancestors. They use to be hungry."
Now he finally started laughing.
"Only, if I can," she timidly interrupted her supervisor's burst of humor, "I'm not sure if the Knights Cemetery is a good place. I mean... it seems that it doesn't matter, the aura of the place counts, but still... There lie the Knights of Athena," Liwia spread her hands helplessly. "A lot of blood, a lot of violence, sacrifice, bravery, loyalty... it's all buried with them. I do not know if the Congregation is fully aware that this is not a necropolis like any other. So I suggest a cemetery for the inhabitants of Rodorio on the outskirts of the village."
The Grand Master's face was impenetrable. Liwia thought too late that she had just given him a lecture about his own friends, brothers in the Zodiac. She swallowed hard.
"There must be something that is required of you during the ritual and you are not very happy about it. What is it?" he asked flatly with superiors' colorless voice.
Liwia shuffled from foot to foot.
"The point is, the Fire Dancer must be in a sense between the world of the living and the valley of the dead." The girl looked towards the window bay; the inexorably darkening sky forced the heart to work faster. "Must be the bait for demons. So that they want to show themselves, that they want to cross the border of hell. Only then he or she will be able to beat them. That is why Fire Dancer should be... properly prepared."
Shion sent her an urged glance.
"I mean light beating and drugged with herbs. Oh, and crepe hands with a rope," the girl blurted out.
The Grand Master's eyebrow disappeared under his helmet.
"And you are still able to fight?"
She nodded.
"I don't remember much of it, almost nothing, but a year ago somehow I succeeded. If you have Slav blood and you are a good, righteous warrior, devoted to your homeland, you should be worthy of Szczerbiec, a ritual sword, which will not only cut the rope at the right moment, but also destroy all demons that will appear in the circle of salt and fire."
"A circle of salt and fire." The Grand Master did not even ask anymore, only repeated it deafly.
Liwia made the wheel with her thumbs.
"Yes. Flame is the power of Swarożyc, the sun god, a kind of protector for the Slavs. In addition, hot summons demons, makes them feel more confident and also blind, so they do not see the salt, which prevents them from escaping. And a real Fire Dancer should ultimately take over this element, Swarożyc's tool, and use it against demons."
Shion chewed her words slowly. Finally, he turned away from Liwia and walked toward the massive throne. As he sat down, the pale green strands of long hair scattered over the golden edges of the furniture. He was silent for a long moment, which made the girl think that the room was falling into evening darkness, until he folded his hands in a pyramid and spoke:
"If that's your will, I let you take part in the ritual. First, however, it will take place at the Sanctuary Cemetery. The inhabitants of Rodorio owe us nothing, I will not disturb them with other people's matters. If Forefathers' Eve is not an attempt to necromancy or achieve others dark results, and I trust you in this regard, the ritual can take place there. However, if your fears were to be confirmed, I would like to see several knights nearby, including myself. And this is my second condition. If you are sure, you can tell the Congregation. And I do not accept negotiations. Either we do it as I say, or they can go back to Poland."
"Understood. Thank you very much, Grand Master!" Liwia bowed deeply and ran out of the room, almost tripping over her own legs.
Shion sighed, closed his eyes and quickly found cosmo traces of his subordinates.
"Deathmask. Shaka. Camus. I am waiting for you in my chamber."
Three confirmations came to him in answer.
When after a long moment Cancer, the last of the arrivals, closed the massive door to the room behind him and casually knelt next to the other two Golden Knights, the Grand Master introduced the issue of Forefathers' Eve.
"As you can see" he said, ending "the matter is unusual, but I agreed because of the sensitive political situation in the Sanctuary Guest' country. I would like you to stay as observers of the ritual, but if the events get out of control, you should act according to your skills. Mask and Shaka-" these knights raised their heads "-I leave the matter of demons and infernal spirits to you. Camus: we don't want a fire in the Sanctuary, especially carried by some beasts from the depths of Hades. Keep your finger on the pulse. Besides, whether it seems to me or you know Polish?"
"Only a little, Grand Master." Camus raised his stone face to his superior.
"Then you'll explain to me how much you will understand of this whole performance. If everything is clear, you can dismissed. See you before midnight at the Knights Cemetery. And one more thing: not a word to the others, I don't want onlookers."
"Yes sir," Shaka and Camus replied and Mask just snorted.
"If I knew we were going to play on a Halloween party, I'd hollow out the pumpkin."
Shaka thought that it would be enough to put his head instead of a pumpkin, they would not even need to hollow out anything. But of course he didn't say a word.
Liwia finished braiding and stepped away from the mirror. She reached for the clothes prepared for her. She pulled a white robe over her back and tied it around her waist with a plain linen cord. The legs of the canvas pants were covered with uppers of black leather shoes, which the girl laced very tightly. Never mind the museum outfit, but if she were to stumble in a circle of fire, she might as well commit suicide right now. She had to rely on agility, because – unfortunately – soon they will take her consciousness in a significant part; what remains then, if not body memory?
The girl, wincing in disgust, covered the arms with wolf skin, which was passed down from generation to generation. It was full of tan holes and carrying brown blood stains. Liwia knew whose.
Finally, she reached for the wreath woven by the Congregation. Herbs, evergreen shrubs and autumn leaves – after putting this on her head, she could confidently pretend to be a nymph or elf during fantasy lovers' meetings or entertain the Rural Women Association.
She sighed. When the knights chosen by the Grand Master see her, they will probably die laughing. "Or maybe not", she corrected herself as she left her hut and headed towards the cemetery chapel, where the first part of the ritual was taking place. "When they see me, I will barely stand on my feet and maybe they will not be so joyful."
[Inspiration: Percival – Dziewczyna Swarożyca]
It was eleven o'clock in the evening and no lamps were lit in the building, not even the smallest candle, so the silhouettes of the Congregation' members were almost exclusively woven from the darkness. The Shaman (Guślarz), two Eaters (Żercy) and seven female-Eaters (Żerczynie) stood in a circle in the middle of the chapel. Various instruments lay at their feet and though they were only dark lumps for Liwia's eyes, she knew that she was dealing with hurdy-gurdy, violins, rebecs, flutes and various percussion.
She sighed and crossed the circle. When she stood inside it, the grave silence was broken by a chorus of nine throats:
Ciemno wszędzie, głucho wszędzie, ("All is darkness, all is quiet.)
Co to będzie, co to będzie? (What will happen here tonight?")
The query was repeated for a long time. Finally the Shaman spoke:
Już straszna północ przybywa, ("Now the dreadful hour's at hand – )
Zamykajcie drzwi na kłódki; (It's midnight – strongly bolt the door,)
Weźcie smolny pęk łuczywa, (Take the pitchy smouldering brand,)
Stawcie w środku kocioł wódki. (And set the cauldron on the floor.)
A gdy laską skinę z dala, (Now, when you see me nod my stave)
Niechaj się wódka zapala. (Then set the vodka-pot ablaze.")
As he commanded, it was done this way: the chapel door was bolted, and the blue light of the burning liquid gently scattered the thick veil of darkness. Shadows began to dance on the walls while Liwia wondered if in the event of an invasion of OSH services everyone would end up in detention for violating health and safety regulations. From the frivolous thought, the voice of the head of the Congregation snapped her:
Na głowie ma kraśny wianek, ("She wears a wreath upon her brow,)
W ręku zielony badylek, (She bears a green switch in her hand – )
A przed nią bieży baranek, (Before her romps a playful lamb,)
A nad nią leci motylek. (A butterfly glides near[…].")
"I feel exactly as embarrassed as I was a year ago," Liwia thought, and she almost smiled despite the chilling scenery. The version that was recited with male Fire Dancers, like her master for example, was far more epic; she had to struggling with this butterfly and lamb... Meanwhile, Eaters turned to Shaman and said about the old man:
Białe lice i obsłony, ("Complexion pale, expression drear,)
Jako śnieg po nowym roku. (Like snow fallen at the New Year – )
Wzrok dziki i zasępiony (A look both sorrowful and crazed)
Utopił całkiem w jej oku. (He sinks deep in her fast-fixed gaze.")
Old man reached for a clay mug standing on a stone pedestal (on which, probably, there were usually coffins), crossed the circle and handed Liwia the dish.
The girl reached for a cup and drank the contents at once. Nobody but the members of the Congregation knew the recipe of the drink. To Liwia it tasted like some herbal vodka, but it worked much faster than it. And more rapidly. How rapidly everyone was to find out in a moment.
Liwia said:
Dębowe wieńce na czołach, ("On the foreheads – oak wreaths,)
A w ręku harfy złociste; (And golden harps in their hands;)
W piersiach serca bursztynowe, (Amber hearts in the chests,)
Jak słońca złote i czyste; (Like gold and pure suns;)
A w ustach pieśni grobowe, (And the mourning songs in throats,)
Co budzą narodów lwy; (Which awake the lions nations';)
To są harfiarze! To wy! (These are harpers' Congregation!)
Dębowe wieńce na czołach, (On the foreheads – oak wreaths,)
A w ręku harfy złociste… (And golden harps in their hands...")
She recited the passage two more times, or at least that many she could counted, because on the third repetition the words began to escape her mind, swirling in the subconscious and morphing into completely new creations that Liwia could no longer stop. Eaters' strong arms suddenly caught her from both sides and held with an iron grip. What's more – the Vulpecula Saint had no idea when she fell silent, and instead of her voice the silence of the chapel was broken by the singing of female-Eaters and the melody played on the instruments brought by the Congregation. Without interrupting their mantric incantation, Guślarz exclaimed:
Podajcie mi, przyjaciele, ("Now take the wreath down from the pole.)
Ten wianek na koniec laski. (I set the blesséd herbs alight,)
Zapalam święcone ziele, (It catches fire – a flash of light)
W górę dymy, w górę blaski! (And upward clouds of incense roll!")
She felt a tug when a braided ornament was torn off her forehead. After a while, the smell of burning herbs came to her. The sense of confusion was even more pronounced, her head was heavy as lead, the sounds were sharp and unpleasant, and the colors strangely blurred. She shuddered when one of the female-Eaters blindfolded her eyes. The material was ice cold and seemed woven by steel.
Liwia no longer reasoned logically, she did not think about the course of the ritual, and yet, like Pavlov's dog, she succumbed to the associations and immediately thought: "Don't break my teeth." Someone grabbed her hair, raising her head.
Blow.
The hit spilled hot all over her face and ripped some inarticulate sound out of her throat. Hair tug.
Blow.
Something wet ran down the corner of her mouth.
Blow. Blow. Blow.
She did not lose consciousness. But she lost her identity. She was a vessel ready to be filled.
Shaka stood on the rolling hill surrounding the cemetery. He came earlier than he intended, wanting to look more closely at the preparations for the ritual, what in the event of unforeseen troubles could help him discern what he was dealing with. Meanwhile, as it turned out, the open ground of the necropolis was not yet adapted to this bizarre event, and the chapel, the only place where anything was happening, was locked down tight and clothed with darkness, interwoven only with the firelight.
Shaka stood some distance from the building, but depriving his sense of sight perfectly sensitized his hearing. So he caught not only some recitations, but also something, that no one would normally heard from among the tribal chants that were performed after these recitations. Namely, the sound of a blow to the body and a quiet moan of pain.
He felt... uncomfortable. Quite surprising, given the fact that the Fox Saint took part in all this by her own free will.
The songs finally stopped, so Shaka could clearly hear the voice of an old man:
Czas odemknąć drzwi kaplicy. ("That's all, time's up. Open the door.)
Zapalcie lampy i świécy. (Set your candles and lamps aglow;")
The door got unlocked and unclogged; the room emitted an intense, thick smoke. Gloomy young men emerged from this gray veil, carrying all sorts of things: some bowls, brushwood, boxes. There was apparently salt in one of the bowl, because the cultists – Shaka called them that in his thoughts – began to pour white powder in a certain order on a flat piece of land near the chapel, right next to the first tombstones of the knights. In this way they formed a fairly large circle, outside of which long torches were stuck. The interior of the circle was trampled and carefully smeared with some liquid in the colorless s-shaped lines, extending from the edges towards the center of the field, where a medium-sized pole was set. The old man, probably the same one whose voice Shaka heard, supervised their work with a silent presence.
Women, dressed in simple, carded dresses also left the room and began to carry various bowls, plates, jugs and cups around the circle, filled with food and drink. Loaves of bread, dumplings, rolls, cakes, a sea of liquors: all this stood in the vicinity of the ritual circle and the cold graves of the warriors of Athena, who died about two hundred years ago.
Virgo Saint "glanced" again towards the wide-open chapel. Smoke was escaping from there constantly, apparently still having the task of dulling the senses of the only person who did not leave the building. Between the veils of smoke he noticed the kneeling, collapsed figure of the Silver Fox Knight. Black hair hid her face, but it didn't take much imagination to guess what she looked like now.
"What's up, the party has already begun?" asked Mask, who appeared out of nowhere and, to the indignation of one of female-Eaters, he stole a few pastries from a platter.
"It looks that way," Shaka muttered.
"Liwia is not in the best condition," said Camus, who came down and stood at the right hand of the Virgo Knight.
"Helping countrymen, what a shit," growled the Knight of Cancer when he finally saw the smoke-wrapped girl inside the chapel. "She could rely on the status of a Sanctuary Guest and didn't give a fuck about."
"She could," replied the Grand Master, who had just joined his subordinates. "But unlike you, she has something like a sense of duty."
Deathmask snorted. He was about to say that if he hadn't had such a sense of duty, he would be sitting in a pub with Milo, Shura and Aldebaran, sipping beer and watching a replay from the Champions League. But even he knew that back-talking to his supervisor was not the best idea.
Suddenly, two Eaters began to walk towards the chapel. First they put out whatever was smoldering there, finally they took the dejected kneeling figure under their arms and forced to stand up. Liwia cooperated as much as she could when leaving the building, but the fact was that she was mainly pulled and pushed, rather than just being supported on the march. Now the knights could see her face, even despite the blindfolded eyes and the surrounding darkness.
"Beautiful. That's fucking beautiful. And I have to take part in this?!" Mask growled, pointing at the beaten and almost unconscious girl. "It's okay, patriotism and these things, right? They beat one of ours and I have to clap and whistle with joy?"
Shion didn't answer, but his clenched hands spoke for themselves.
Meanwhile, Eaters dragged Liwia to a ritual circle and one of them moved her carefully to the center of the field. Carefully because of the invisible signs, drawn with a mysterious liquid substance, and not because of the respect for their countryman, which could be deduced after this Eater brutally put her on her knees and how he unceremoniously restrained her hands with a rope and tied around pole, embedded in the ground.
"You couldn't be gentler, you son of a bitch?!" shouted Cancer Saint, but Eater didn't look up at him, though he had to know perfectly well what this guy in armor had in mind, even without knowing his language.
Shaka wondered why they hadn't put Fox Knight in the right place first and then painted the ground: it would be a lot easier. He decided that it was a matter of trying to get the girl to experience the longest possible exposure to hallucinogenic incense mixtures. And it actually worked, Virgo had no doubt. This meant that the ritual required a completely derealized victim and such are extremely valuable morsels for demons. If this whole event gets out of control, he will have to act quickly.
The man even felt something resembling a needle of regret. After all, she was a young girl. Also – the knight smiled a little – it was she who guessed rightly that Shaka is not an incarnation of the Buddha. It was enough to read a little to know that it would make no sense and yet most of the knights in the Sanctuary were convinced of this reincarnation. Virgo Saint, of course, did not deny it, but the fact that Silver Vulpecula added two and two together so quickly entertained him whenever he remembered it.
His thoughts were interrupted by Camus' whisper:
"Looks like they're starting."
Indeed, Eaters and female-Eaters stood around the circle, some of them picked up the musical instruments they brought, others took the lighted torches. The Shaman was behind the tied Liwia and at his feet lay an elongated package. He stepped forward and shouted into the night:
Czyscowe duszeczki! ("Purgatory's suffering souls!)
W jakiejkolwiek świata stronie: (Wherever in the world you be:)
Czyli która w smole płonie, (If in flaming tar you roll,)
Czyli marznie na dnie rzeczki, (Or in an icy river freeze,)
Czyli dla dotkliwszej kary (Or if, for greater punishment,)
W surowym wszczepiona drewnie, (Within a blazing log you're pent)
Gdy ją w piecu gryzą żary, (That cries and whistles as the flames)
I piszczy, i płacze rzewnie; (Gnaw at its slow-consuming frame,)
Każda spieszcie do gromady! (Come, hasten to our company!)
Gromada niech się tu zbierze! (– And now come closer, everyone –)
Oto obchodzimy Dziady! (Tonight we're celebrating Dziady!)
Zstępujcie w święty przybytek; (Come now, into God's holy home:)
Jest jałmużna, są pacierze, (Here is food, and drink and alms –)
I jedzenie, i napitek. (Here is prayer's most precious balm.")
"It's some archaic version of Polish," Camus muttered. "I don't know if I would understand much of this. For now, it's probably an invitation for ghosts to a feast."
"I will say it only once," Grand Master had a strangely sharp tone of voice. "Until everything is still going on within some framework, I don't want any disturbing performances on your part. But if I find Liwia's life is in danger, you have to react immediately, is it clear?"
Three murmurs of "yes sir" answered him. Meanwhile the old man continued:
Podajcie mi garść kądzieli, ("Pour some incense in my hands,)
Zapalam ją; wy z pośpiechem, (I light it now, and, hurry up –)
Skoro płomyk w górę strzeli, (As the shooting flame expands,)
Pędźcie go z lekkim oddechem. (Help it on with gentle puffs.)
Niech się na powietrzu spali. (Let it burn up in the air.)
A jak suchy snop cierniowy (Just as a burning sheaf of bracken)
Płonąc miotłę ognia ciska, (Tosses aloft its fiery glare,)
Tak od potępieńca głowy (So does a rain of sparks fall crackling)
Z trzaskiem sypią się iskrzyska.(Comet-like from the damned soul's hair.)
Oto obchodzimy Dziady! (Tonight we're celebrating Dziady!")
One of the Eaters handed a bunch of strings to the Guślarz, which an older man set fire with a nearby torch and threw it on the invisible rim of the wheel. At that moment, the circle dealt with soaring flames.
[Inspiration: Żywiołak – Sol Invictus]
The instruments began to play a disturbing melody, echoing among the graves. The fiery wheel rim reacted strangely to the music, matching with its tones.
Hejże ino dyna dyna. (Now expedite, hurry, hurry)
Przyjdź że ino. Przyjdź dziecino (You come by now, come hither, child)
Przyjdź że ino. Wyjrzyj ino (You come by now and you appear)
na niebie, na niebie (in the sky, in the sky)
The flame burst, spilling sparks around. Moreover, it slowly began to spread, violating the rim's area; an invisible substance was gently touched by the tongues of fire.
"Shit," Mask hissed. The knight thought that the rim itself would be on fire, not the field next to the binded, almost unconscious Liwia, whose eyes were blindfolded. "She won't break through!"
"Quiet," Grand Master growled; his restless eyes watched the ritual.
Shaka felt a presence. And in one second he made sure that it was not the fire that would be the biggest threat to the girl.
Weakened Liwia suddenly arched, tightening the tether until it creaked. Against the background of bright flames some jagged, ethereal shadow of terror appeared.
"Blondie...?" Deathmask glanced at the Virgo Knight.
"Noticed."
Meanwhile, Żerczynie and Żercy continued their singing and even calm Camus stated that their melody could awakened some primal instincts in ones hearts.
Szczodre gody! Słońca wstanie! (Koliada, the feast of solstice!)
Z wróżbami, z wróżbami (Auguries, auguries!)
My szczodraki rozdajemy (We hand out pastries)
garściami, garściami (In large quantities, quantities)
Hejże ino dyna dyna (Now expedite, hurry, hurry)
Swarożyc on bóg dziecina (Swarozyc, a male God-child)
Na niebie, na niebie (in the sky, in the sky)
The shadows thickened, and the path of fire increased the range. Drops of sweat on Liwia's face washed away the dirty crimson streaks. She jerked again and again, wiping her wrists to the blood. Her breath was fast, uneven, her lips parted. Deathmask thought that in a different situation he could take her behavior as... an outlet for pleasure.
Meanwhile, the melody went a tone higher, it began to be more intense, more aggressive. The Congregation' song accelerated the pulse, and the fires, with their twisting paths, dangerously approached Liwia; flame tongues were already dancing about half a meter from a kneeling girl, now constantly struggling. Even worse, her figure grew dark, as if shadows fell on her poor, sacrificed body.
"What we're doing?" Deathmask turned nervously towards the head of the Sanctuary.
Shion's eyes reflected fire glare, but his lips were silent.
"Grand Master?" Even in Camus's voice one could feel nervousness. If he too began to lose his cool, then the matter stood on the knife's edge.
Oj dworacy, dworacy! (O, courtiers, courtiers)
, The Shaman suddenly exclaimed and bent down to the elongated package at his feet.
Liwia screamed, and her body was bent by some unnatural power. The fire began to lick the ground right at her knees.
"Grand Master!" Cancer Saint fixed his eyes on his superior.
Shion raised a trembling, uncertain hand and said:
"On my mark..."
Shaka folded his hands in "abhaja mudra" gesture, preparing to attack.
…nie chodźta po nocy… (do not wonder around at night)
What Guślarz unwrapped from a material turned out to be an old, full of ornaments, ceremonial double-edged sword. The old man grabbed the handle and walked to the very line of the infernal circle. He pointed the blade to the girl's back.
…a bo wam ta choineczka… (or this little Christmas tree)
Liwia's body arched, shadows clung to her breasts, and her face showed a combination of painful contraction and extraordinary pleasure. Fire whipped her thighs.
"We have to act, damn it!"
"Wait!"
"Grand Master, she will die..."
The blade in the Shaman's hands rose and a throw occurred. The metal flew towards Liwia.
Shaka gathered a luminous power between his fingers, ready for immediate release.
Shion shouted:
"Now... STOOOP!"
…powybija oczy! (will easily gouge out your eyes!)
Several things happened at once. Suddenly suspended knights almost fell, wanting to stop their momentum. The ceremonial sword stuck right behind Liwia's back, centimeters from a wooden stake and cords with which her hands were tied up. The twitching power that emanated from it was amazing. The girl's face unexpectedly was adorned with an bloodthirsty, frightening smile.
The vibrational power of the sword cut the bonds and the Polish girl spread her arms free. The flames stopped and fell to the ground like a scolded dog.
"What the...?" Mask blinked in disbelief, still raising his hand in unfinished attack.
Grand Master began to breathe again. The singing continued.
Dziady, duchy, rody nasze prosimy, prosimy (We ask spirits, our clans and forefathers, forefathers)
Do wieczerzy, miejsca, ognie palimy, palimy (As we dine, we leave empty spots, light the hearths, light the hearths)
When Liwia, still smiling diabolically, got up from her knees and reached for the sword, the shadows scattered sideways, seeking the exit from the circle. Salt kept them in place, so it ended in a panicky tangle. When the blade was pulled out of the ground, the fire from within the circle was immediately absorbed by the metal of the weapon, glowing it like a hellish pupil.
The shadows made a squeak, chilling sound of fear. The Eaters and female-Eaters' singing and playing continued, uninterrupted. Liwia, with fluttering ends of blindfold, made a wheel with the sword and launched her attack, becoming the Fire Dancer.
"Phew... Relax, Blondie. You too, Chilly." Mask followed Silver's turnovers and cuts with delight. "She coped without our help."
"Do not lower your guard," Shaka replied coldly, and the three of them glanced at him. "Do you not feel that this is not the strength of the Athena's Knight?"
It was true: what emanated from Liwia was not the cosmo flame they knew. This force was alien, powerful. And they basically didn't know its' motivation. For now, they could only wait.
Shadows were fading with an inhuman scream under the blows of Liwia's sword. Despite her blindfolded eyes, she swirled in a circle of fire without losing steps of this strange dance and always finding the right rhythm. There were less and less dark etheric beings, finally the last streaks of blackness dissolved by the power of the Dancer, and the music and singing ceased. The ritual of freeing the ancestors' spirits was over.
Liwia was standing in a deserted field, as if someone had taken out batteries from her. The head hung, the hand holding the sword loosened and the weapon slapped the ground. Eaters started to extinguish torches in the circle, while the Shaman raised his hands to the sky and shouted:
Przeszła północ… ("Midnight is past[…])
Skończona straszna ofiara! (The gloomy sacrifice is o'er.)
Teraz wszystkie dusze razem, (Now each and every soul I call)
Wszystkie i każdą z osobna, (Without distinction, one and all,)
Ostatnim wołam rozkazem! (With this my final incantation.)
Dla was ta biesiada drobna; (For you, these final ministrations,)
Bierzcie, czego której braknie, (Take whatever you may need;)
Która pragnie, która łaknie. (What will slake you, what will feed.")
Camus translated as much as he could and then silence fell. At first, nothing happened, but after a while, slightly away from the group, Shaka felt someone's presence. The sight substitute allowed him to capture the delicate outlines of human figures.
"They really came. Incredible," Grand Master whispered, staring at the rows of foggy figures.
"Souls with blood familiar! Speak! What is the future of our country?" the Shaman thundered, turning to the ghosts. Those, however, stood still and mute. In grave silence. And this silence was suddenly pierced by the sound, which not only didn't bring calm, but even caused much greater horror.
Liwia was laughing. The dreadful giggle echoed. The girl raised her head and, smiling furiously, whispered:
Nieznajomym ogniem pałam. ("[…]I burn with unfamiliar flame[...]")
It wasn't her voice.
"Silence!" growled the Guślarz and turned again to the ghosts of ancestors. "Souls with blood familiar! Speak! What is the fu..."
His words drowned in Liwia's chuckle. The confused old man and the rest of the Congregation looked at the female warrior. Maybe it was because of the deforming everything darkness, but it seemed like her hair took on a reddish shade.
"I don't think this is standard," Mask muttered as soon as Camus translated Liwia's words and Shion had to agree with him. Something was wrong.
It was. Liwia, still with the blindfold on her eyes, turned her head towards the knights of Athena and said in a terribly strange voice:
Wstaną i zginą raz drugi… ("They will die again, after they rise…)
A po ich przodkach przejdą zapomnienia pługi, (And through their ancestors plows of oblivion will pass,)
I stokrocie się rozwiną (And daisies will grow)
Na krwawym umarłych stepie; (On the bloody dead steppe;)
Żywi się pomieszają z umarłymi, (The living will stir with the dead,)
I nikt ich nie rozbroni. (And nobody will split them.)
I cóż!… czy płakać? (And what to do!... Mourning?)
Tam wrony zaczynają krakać (There crows begin to croaking)
I wilcy gryzą śpiące na oszczepie (And wolves bite sleeping on spear)
Ciała rycerzy. (Knights' bodies.")
Camus froze. He stammered; he couldn't render everything, his knowledge of Polish was not enough to translate Liwia's entire statement, but enough to know that the Silver Knight of Fox was talking to them, not to her compatriots.
"Why are you remaining silent?!" The Shaman glared at the ghoul row. He panicked. He even wanted to approach Liwia because he apparently accused her of this strange ghosts behavior, but he was afraid. It wasn't a teenager now. It was a vessel filled with unknown power.
Ghosts remained silent. But in an instant their ghostly hands rose and pointed to one place. They pointed Liwia.
The girl swayed, smiled ominously and said in a strange, inspired voice:
Za trzy dni wszystkiemu kres, ("In three days everything will end,)
Walka i zgon! Anioł i bies! (The angel and the devil! Fight to death!)
Więc za trzy dni noc płomieni (So in three days a night of flames)
I noc okropności mściwa (And the night of atrocity vindictive)
I wiek haraczu… (And extortion age...)
Wielu rycerzy od piorunów zginie, wielu od miecza. (Many knights from thunder will die, many from the sword.)
Wódz dwie głowy mieć będzie, jedna człowiecza, (The leader will have two heads, one: human from this world,)
Drugą głowę piekielną wódz mieć będzie. (Another a hellish head the leader will have.)
Ogień, nim we łzach ostygnie, (Fire, before it cools down in tears,)
Dwanaście domów podźwignie. (Could twelve houses lifts.)
Lecz już lud wyrżnięty i nastaje burza. (But people are slaughtered and a storm will begin.)
Z mroku przyjdzie wódz, już troje wyrusza; (From darkness leader came, the three after him;)
Teraz w dwanaście pustych kamieni, (Now in twelve empty stones,)
Domy odmieni. (Changes houses at once.)
Ja z ostatnimi zostanę żywa, (I will stay alive with the last ones,)
Ostatnia z czerwoną pochodnią (Last one with a red torch in hand)
I zakocham się w smutku, w popiołach, (And I will fall in love with ashes and sadness,)
A Ziemia będzie przechodnią, (And the Earth will be a passerby land,)
Swatami zaś Sale o wiecznych słojach, (And as a matchmakers: Sal trees that are timeless,)
A domem moim stos rycerzy. (And as my house: a knights' pile.)
Kto konając we mnie uwierzy, (Who will believe in me when time to die,)
Skona spokojny; (He will die with relieve;)
Ja go zemszczę lepiej od ognia i wojny, (I will avenge him better than war and flames' lit,)
Lepiej niż sto tysięcy wroga, (Better than an enemy's squad)
Lepiej od boga… (Better than god...")
Camus and Mask were staring at Liwia, eyes wide. Shaka did not understand anything from the girl's statement, but despite this, and maybe thanks to this, he drew attention to several other things. First, the Shaman, Eaters and female-Eaters stood completely dumbfounded; their eyes were not fixed on the prophetic countryman all the time, but were also focused on Saints. So there was no doubt that the Silver Fox Knight had predicted the future of Athena's warriors. This, moreover, was confirmed by the pale face of Camus; Shaka has never seen him like this before.
Secondly, Virgo "glanced" towards the gathered spirits. At first he did not pay attention to it, but now some small things, some elements caught his substitute for eyesight. The longer he looked, the longer he focused on the spirits, the more details he distinguished from the veils white fog from which the ghosts were weaved. He noticed, namely, some pieces of armor, and they were not part of the casual armors of the olden days.
Should he be surprised? They were standing at the Knights Cemetery; despite the assurances of the Congregation, it had to have a decisive influence on the course of the ritual. So Shaka remained calm.
Until one of the etheric arrivals exceptionally caught his attention. Virgo's knight began to analyze the spirit and soon felt something he hadn't felt for a long time, something he hadn't experienced since his early childhood.
Shaka felt fear.
Same long hair, same posture, same armor. And the same closed eyes.
Virgo's knight was looking at himself.
And this other Shaka was smiling warmly at him.
Meanwhile, Liwia finished prophesying. The spirits of the ancestors stood for a while in the silent stupor, until they finally dispersed in the wind and blended into the darkness of the night. Shaka, as if awaken, turned to the Grand Master. Shion's face indicated, that he could see the same thing as him. After a few seconds Shion turned his eyes away from the place where the apparitions were, in time to see Liwia's limp body fall to the ground and twitching in convulsions.
While Shaka remained in place, trying to figure out what he actually saw, the other two knights and the Grand Master ran to the girl, ripped the blindfold from her eyes and tried to wake her up. However, the seizure did not stop.
"Shaka. Shaka, god damn it!" The Grand Master shouted. "You need invitation, or what?!"
Virgo's knight came to the rest with confuse. Shion had never spoken to him like this before. After all, the Grand Master must have known that he did not stand there admiring the landscape.
"I can't heal," he said at the beginning, kneeling beside the Silver Vulpecula Knight.
"But you can calm her mentally. Do it."
The blond man touched the girl's temple, focused his cosmo and began to send soothing waves straight to her brain. Slowly the quivering body calmed down and finally became still enough to look more like someone sleeping than the victim of possession.
The Grand Master sighed.
"Camus: you will come with me to the Congregation and translate. I want the prophecy from them in writing. Because you probably didn't understand everything to the letter, did you?"
"No, Grand Master," answered Aquarius. He was still pale. "But as much as I understood is enough to take it all seriously."
Shion nodded.
"Deathmask: you'll stay here. You have to check, inch by inch, whether the veil between the worlds has been broken or weakened. I want a report in the morning."
Cancer wasn't very happy, but he knew he was the most competent to settle the matter. He scratched behind his ear and said:
"What about Liwia? Maybe I should take her to Dite first? We don't know what they used to drugged her..."
"No." The Grand Master's voice was harsh and firm. "Shaka will look after her. If her condition become worse, then Aphrodite or Aiolia would be useful. He also has the gift of healing, though you probably didn't know that, as I know you. Is everything clear?"
They confirmed, although Shaka, in truth, did not quite know what to do. He took the girl in his arms and started walking toward the Zodiac Houses. She weighed as much as a feather.
"For pity's sake, take her to her house, it will be closer." The Grand Master's voice was still trembling with nerves. It seemed that he was taking the whole event very hard. He pointed at nearby buildings. "There, first cottage from the left, with geraniums on the windowsills. You know what geraniums are, or not?"
"I know," Shaka said grimly and started walking in the pointed direction. After a moment, he disappeared from their sight.
"Huh, shit, but he got hit," Mask laughed and, without waiting to get reprimanded too, he made his way through the Gate of Hades to explore the fragility of the interworld border.
"Are you all right, Grand Master?" asked Camus, apparently concerned about the strange behavior of his superior.
"Yes. Let's go to the Congregation, we need to talk to them seriously," the man replied, but he couldn't stop thinking about what he saw. About the ghosts who came to the meeting. And about this, whether Shaka understood who he actually saw. Shion was harsh on him, wanting to cover it all up, forced him to change a rails of his thoughts. But the truth was also that he really got angry at the Virgo Saint. Will the guard of the Sixth Palace be even more unapproachable, even more inhuman in this cycle than it was last time? Bah, even care less for others than Cancer! Deathmask was obviously concerned about the girl's health, and he usually doesn't care much about anything!
Shion sighed. Bullshit. He idealized the years of his youth and that's all. Then, at the beginning, they were also not doing well. Who got along with Virgo Knight well, anyway? And yet…
Enough. He had now other worries. This prophecy needs to be handled as soon as possible, because he had a feeling that the fate of the entire Sanctuary would depend on it.
The girl's hand fell from her torso, dangled and swung to the rhythm of the steps. The houses of knights and other inhabitants of the Sanctuary appeared on the horizon, so Shaka began to look for those damned geraniums. Without a problem he found furthest to the left, simple cottage, corresponding to the description. He pressed the handle with his elbow.
Closed.
Shaka was not the best at solving everyday problems. He usually left it to others, devoting himself to things of higher caliber. And there you go.
He watched too little movies (basically he doesn't watch them at all) and did not enough associated with people (basically he does it hardly ever) to know that the keys were normally placed under the doormat or flower pot on the windowsill. The blonde man simply focused a little cosmo and destroyed the entire lock, almost pulling it out of the wood. The door was open.
After what Shaka had seen as he was passing through the fifth Zodiac Palace, he expected Aiolia's peer to have a similar attitude to tidiness. Meanwhile the cottage was neat and clean. The dishes stood in a row on the kitchen counter, the clothes were folded into cubes, the chest with Silver Fox Armor stood next to the neatly made bed.
He put the girl on the bed, wondering what to do next. He made sure that she was breathing and brushed aside unruly black strands from her face that had escaped from the braid's tyranny; he looked at the bloodied, sooted face.
He wondered if it was worth it, eventually she did not achieve the goal, did not find the answer, what could help her country. At the same time, he had to appreciate the very fact of her efforts: he too once wanted to save his homeland, he wanted to understand why so many beings around him suffer. Why so many can't get out of the relentless wheel of misery.
He did not save them, but he understood the reason for despair. At least he got something.
He shook himself, got up, almost silently, found a towel in the bathroom, filled a bowl with water and returned to the girl. He tried to be gentle, thinking that this was the "looking after" that the Grand Master had asked him to do. "Asked," he snorted in his thoughts.
"A... smita?" she murmured indistinctly, reacting to touch.
Shaka stopped his hand, completely surprised. "Asmita" was a Buddhist term, also a name, given in India, so Virgo did not quite understand what the girl could had in mind. On the other hand: he did not speak Polish at all, maybe in her native language this word also meant something.
"Jai ho, Asmita..." The girl suddenly grabbed his hand with trembling fingers, and with the other hand reached for blonde strands. Her unconscious gaze slid over the knight's face, and a gentle smile crept into the wounded lips. "Jai ho..."
She lost consciousness again, her fingers flew through his blond hair and hand fell limply to the bed.
Shaka had no idea how to deal with this. Because now it was definitely in Hindi. The wording, especially nowadays, had many meanings, but the girl was probably talking about some "victory." Taking him for someone else. It was still a foretelling the future, or maybe Fox Saint was experiencing a reminiscence?
He couldn't figure it out and it upset him immensely. He soaked the towel again, squeezed out excess of water and put it on her face.
It was going to be a long night.