“He began at sunrise,” interjected Radim Tvrdík, seeing that Reynevan was more interested in Samson Honeypot than opinions about Axleben. “Indeed, all alone with the object, meaning Samson. He didn’t want any help, although we offered it. He didn’t ask for anything, neither instrument, nor incense, nor aspergillum, so he must be wielding some powerful artefact.”
“Or it’s true what they say about Manusfortis,” added Brehm. “He shouldn’t be underestimated.”
“We aren’t underestimating him,” assured Telesma. “It is, after all, in spite of everything, Vincent Axleben, magnus experimentator et nigromanticus, in person. He’s certainly not short on magical knowledge. He’s a master. So he’s entitled to be somewhat extravagant.”
“What a grand word,” said Fraundinst, grimacing. “In my village, Malá Smědava, people wouldn’t call someone like Axleben ‘extravagant.’ They’d call him—simply, coarsely and bluntly—an ignorant fucking swine.”
“No one’s perfect,” noted Teggendorf. “Including Vincent Axleben. And the fact that his working methods are bizarre? Why, we’ll judge how effective they are. We’ll find out and judge them as the Bible instructs: a fructibus eorum.”
“I’ll wager,” Svatopluk went on, “that the fructus will be sour and misbegotten. Who wants to bet?”
“I definitely don’t,” said Štěpán of Drahotuše with a shrug. “For men do not gather grapes of thorns, or figs of thistles. Axleben won’t succeed with Samson and it’ll end as we did at Epiphany. In other words: in a failure. Axleben will be undone as we were—by his pride and vanity.”
A delicate trail of smoke spiralled up from the fumigating incense—the classic blend of aloes and nutmeg recommended by most grimoires—smouldering in a cast-iron tripod. Samson, having been put into a trance, was lying on a large oaken table. He was completely naked and on his enormous, almost hairless body could be seen numerous magical and Kabbalist signs, written in magical ink made of cinnabar, alum and vitriol of Cyprus. He had been arranged with his limbs spread out so that his head, arms and legs were touching the appropriate points on the Circle of Solomon—the Hebrew letters Lamed, Vav, Yodh, Kaf and Nun. He was surrounded by nine black candles, a bowl of salt and a goblet of water.
Teggendorf and Brehm, standing at opposite corners of the table and both wearing flowing ceremonial robes, intoned in hushed voices the psalms demanded by the ritual. They had just finished Ecce quam bonum and were beginning Dominus inluminatio mea.
Bezděchovský went closer. He was wearing a white robe and pointed hat measuring about a cubit and marked with hieroglyphs. He was holding an athame, a double-edged dagger with an ivory handle, which was a prerequisite during goetia.
“Athame,” he said loudly, “you, who are Athanatos, who knows not death, and who are al-dhame, the sign of blood! Conjuro te cito mihi obedire! Hodomos! Helon, Heon, Homonoreum! Dominus inluminatio mea et salus mea, quem timebo? Dominus protector vitae meae a quo trepidabo? ”
Bezděchovský touched the flame of each candle, the water and the salt in turn with the athame’s blade.
“I curse you,” he said each time, “O Creature of Fire, in the name of the Power: may the apparition and the nocturnal spectre fly from you. I curse you, O Creature of Water, in the name of the Power: expel from yourself impurity and all blemish. In the name of the Power, in the name of Ambriel and Ehesatiel, be blessed, O Creature of Salt, may the ill will of demons leave you. And may the good of the Creator return in its place.”
Svatopluk Fraundinst, who was assisting the old man, approached and handed him a boline, a knife with a crescent-shaped blade. Bezděchovský made four ritual movements in the air with it.
“By all the names of God, by Adonay, El, Elohim, Elohe, Zebaoth, Elion, Escerchie, Jah, Tetragrammaton, Sadai, we command you, demons circling here and present in your astral form, to appear before us in human shape, untainted by any corruption or monstrousness, able to speak plainly and comprehensibly, able to reply to the questions that will be posed to you. Come and be obedient to us, I command you by Daniel, Gediel and Theodoniel, by Klarimum, Habdanum and Inglotum! Come!”
Nothing happened, naturally. No one came and no one appeared. But that was quite normal at that stage of the conjuration.
“Ego vos invoco,” Bezděchovský continued, lifting up the boline, “et invocando vos conjure, per eum cui obediunt omnes creaturae, et per hoc nomen ineffabile, Tetragrammaton Jehovah, in quo est plasmatum omne saeculum, quo audito elementu corruunt, ar concutitur, mare retrograditur, ignis extinguitur, terra tremit, omnesque exercitus Coelestium, Terrestrium et Infernorum tremunt et turbantur! Venite, venite, quid tardatis? Imperat vobis Rex regum! Titeip, Azia, Hyn, Jen, Minosel, Achadan, Vay, Ey, Haa, Eye, Exe, El, El, Va, Vaa, Yaaaaa!”
The mage’s voice rose as the spells were uttered, reaching higher and higher registers, until it became almost a wailing, an inhuman, unnatural keening. The air vibrated perceptibly, the candles sparked and dimmed. Suddenly there was a smell of wild animals, the stench of decay and lion’s urine. The darkness that filled the chamber thickened, took on shapes and swelled like a cumulus. Something moved inside the cumulus, brimmed over, writhed like an eel in a sack, like a tangle of vipers. Reynevan saw bloodshot eyes suddenly flash in the tangle, saw dreadful toothy jaws snap, saw monstrous physiognomies looming. His amazement quickly changed into panic. Not just out of fear of that nightmarish monstrousness, but also at the thought that Samson might indeed have something to do with it.
But Jan Bezděchovský of Bezděchov was a powerful mage and had everything in hand. Under the force of his spell, plaster fell from the ceiling and the candle flames turned red and then blue. A roar and boom reverberated and the macabre tangle hardened into a sphere as black as anthracite whose surface appeared to absorb all light. After the next spell, the sphere vanished with a hiss. Samson Honeypot, lying on the table, stiffened and trembled, then went limp and lay motionless.
“By Cratares,” said Bezděchovský. “By Capitel! I summon you, O Creature! Say who you are. Plainly and without lies, say who and what you are!”
Samson’s body trembled powerfully again.
“Verum, sine mendacio, certum et verissimum,” he said in a somewhat altered voice. “Quod est inferius est sicut quod est superius, et quod est superius est sicut quod est inferius, ad perpetranda Miracula Rei Unius.”
Radim Tvrdík, who was sitting beside Reynevan, gasped aloud and Štěpán of Drahotuše swore under his breath.
“That is the Emerald Tablet,” he explained in a whisper, seeing Reynevan’s enquiring expression. “He is speaking the words of Hermes Trismegistus. As though… As though—”
“As though he were mocking us.” Jošt Dun completed his sentence in a whisper.
“By Alpharoz!” Jan Bezděchovský raised his hands. “By Bedrimubal! Per signum Domini Tau! Who are you? Speak! Where is the truth?”
“Separate earth from fire,” Samson’s voice replied almost immediately. “Separate with great care that which is subtle from that which is gross. And the Power will rise up from Earth to Heaven, then will descend to the Earth again and draw into itself all higher and lower creatures. Then you will possess the glory of this world. And all darkness will flee.”