Dimly she was aware of a stab of pain. The pig face must have cut me again. In an instant something stirred in the firmament; she felt a pang of fear as it reached for her. Then she thought she’d die, as the power entered her body and her blood boiled. Father! she cried out in her anguish and her pain, but it was no use. The firmament crashed in around her and, in the distance, she felt a scream of agony.
She was back at the tree, her wrists bound with myrtle. Blood dripped across her forehead and there was a cut traced along her neck, just deep enough to draw a sliver of blood. There was a dreadful sound like a thunderstorm. Lord Bethrayal was all around her; his presence swirling like an angry squall. ‘Miskyia,’ she cried out, ‘save me!’
‘You must be strong,’ the voice of Miskyia said, muffled behind the pig-faced mask. Was she the same person underneath? Iwa wondered. Somehow she had the inkling that something else flowed behind that mask, a presence that was not quite human, as if some magic worked on the sorceress to transform her into the half human creature that stood before Iwa.
Can she be trusted, when she wears that thing? But there was no time for such thoughts.
‘Fight against the firmament.’ Miskyia’s voice came to her again above the roar that engulfed her ears. ‘You must tame it, or else it will rip your body to shreds.’
But I can’t. Somewhere in the distance she was aware of her body, the cut of the myrtle sprig as she tried to break loose, but the runes held her firm.
‘You must find a way,’ Miskyia said. ‘Think of all we have worked for, all that we can achieve.’
You said that you’d help me… please. Iwa strained against the bonds as the Lord Bethrayal raged inside her, her eyes turning to molten liquid that poured down her cheeks like tears. Take this away from me – Miskyia, do not leave me. But there was nothing. Iwa could see the pig face as it opened its mouth and began to laugh. In the bracken old gods stirred and leapt out at her with the faces of bats and the wings of birds.
Another shot of pain: the knife was drawn against her neck, deeper this time. Miskyia, Iwa pleaded; but it wasn’t the sorceress who held the knife, nor was it the pig-faced demon: it was Lord Bethrayal. Bethrayal the mighty, Bethrayal the cunning, Bethrayal the destroyer. Iwa could see him, much as he must have been in life. She was surprised at how young he looked, his skin scented and oiled, but in his eyes a fierce intelligence burned.
Did you think you could ever contain me? The voice of Lord Bethrayal sounded through her ears, but it was not what she’d expected. It was sweet, charming almost, as it slipped through her head. You should have known better than to try, for I am Bethrayal, the lord of all things; Bethrayal the defender, Bethrayal the bringer of peace. Who are you to try and contain me, you who are so small and so pitiful? Desperately she tried to reply, but there was only his voice, dancing through her mind. And I am not to be held captive.
With that he drew the knife deeply across her throat so that the blade cut her windpipe in a shower of gore: then there was nothing.
‘Miskyia!’ someone shouted – it was her. Slowly the world returned and her blood stopped spinning. With a sigh Iwa slumped against the tree and hoped that nobody would see the tears as she pressed her forehead against the bark. Someone grabbed her from behind and forced a cup to her lips.
‘There you are, my clever, brave child.’ Miskyia stroked her neck. ‘I knew that you could do it. I had faith in you, even if you didn’t.’
‘It was horrible,’ Iwa managed, as the drink slipped down her throat. It carried the scent of magic locked behind the taste of the wine and herbs. ‘You weren’t there – it wasn’t your body that Lord Bethrayal used.’
‘Hush,’ Miskyia said, as she drew Iwa to her and let the cup drop onto the stones. ‘Did you think that I ever left your side? Did you think that I could, after all we have experienced in the temple?’
‘There was so much…’ Iwa said. ‘The firmament was all around me. I felt his voice behind my head.’
‘And it would have dragged you into the eternal void, had I not stopped it. The barriers that guarded this world would have crushed you in an instant had I not held them open.’
‘So this Lord Bethrayal of yours has entered our world?’ Iwa glanced about her. All was still, as if nothing had happened. Even her body was unharmed, except for the slight trace of a cut along her forearm. Slowly Iwa shook her head, half expecting it to fall from her shoulders. But her neck was fine, with not even a hint of a scratch. She felt her skin, but there was only the amulet, now dangling heavily on her. When did someone put that around my neck?
‘Where is he?’ she said as her feet touched cold stone again. There was no hint of the runes that had burned so powerfully only a moment ago.
‘You managed to contain him.’ Miskyia pointed to the mists. She could see his body even clearer now, that same hawk-like intelligence which burned through the semblance of eyes. ‘You are the key, the bridge which will allow the Lord Bethrayal to pass out of the firmament.’
‘So he is not through yet?’
‘It is a slow process: you must be careful to keep open the gap. You are the conduit
