Font of Fertility Ch. 19

Where Esmerelda's throne gave me the distinct feeling that I was looking at her sitting atop a great, dark pyramid in a jungle, when I looked at Temüjin it was like he was sitting on his throne at the top of a windswept plains hill.

Speaking of Esmerelda, I looked over at her and found that she was staring at me. She didn't look away, just smiled softly and met my gaze. Even from this distance, I could see she had emerald green eyes.

"So..." Lauren started, and I could hear her thoughts on Khaltmaa in her voice.

"Not a shot," I said.

"You sure? She's-"

"A Prime," I finished for her.

"Fine," Lauren sighed. "You know-"

"Temüjin, Fourth Seat of the Council of Threes, Horselord, Grand Conqueror of the World, Father of Fathers, Khan of Khans, Lord-Militant of the Great Order of Fertility Shamans, sits in attendance by the will of the Mother."

"Did that centaur just say Khan of Khans?" I asked. "Does that mean-"

"Is that fucking Genghis Khan?" Lauren asked.

"Oh, yes, I believe that's one of the names he adopted early on," Adama said quietly. "He and Ezekial had a good relationship, not that that needs to mean anything between you and him."

"Good enough that he knew where the Sanctum was?" I asked.

"I... don't know," Adama admitted.

One of the Fertility Seats, most likely, had been the one to pilfer everything from my adopted Sanctum. If I could, I wanted to figure out who it was as one of my goals for the Council meeting. I also needed to do that quietly.

"Holy shit," Lauren muttered. "Why the fuck would he conquer and kill so many people with armies if he was a Fertility mage?"

"The reverse question is equally valid," Adama said. "Why isn't Jeremiah doing that?"

"I... because it's wrong?" Lauren asked.

"Is it?" Adama asked.

The conversation cut off because another Seatbecame.

He was huge and dressed in a three-piece suit made of gold cloth that stood out from his nearly coal-black skin. The suspenders for his pants were belts of bullets, and his teeth shone like diamonds as he glanced around and then settled his gaze on me. Behind him loomed an immense beast, a male lion that stalked in a circle and revealed that its head, from the mane down to its snout, was just a skull with some scraps of flesh on it.

The man eyed me over, and then eyed Lauren, and barked a laugh and shook his head before heading towards his seat. The lion-zombie paced after him and got up on the Prime throne, sitting for all the world like it was just a giant housecat and not a terrifying spectacle. The man's shadow then detached itself - and I realized that no one else was casting a shadow in this place without a light source. The shadow slithered up the seats and then cast itself over the Patron throne. As the three settled, the thrones turned to bone, a pile of skulls, RPG rockets, AK-47s and belts of bullets strewn around them. The Seat reached below his throne and pulled out a golden machete, laying it across his knees as he started chuckling.

"Marcel Mboyo, Second Seat of the Council of Threes, Warlord of the Dark Continent, Devourer of All Peoples, The Great Subjugator, Son of the Flesh Rite of Death's Dominion, sits in attendance by the inevitability of their will." The shadow-thing proclaimed.

"We don't like that guy, right?" Lauren whispered. "He looks like he's the person who came up with child soldiers."

"We don't know that," I said.

"Ezekial didn't have many relations with him, as far as I remember," Adama said quietly. "But I do remember there is some tension between Marcel and the final Fertility seat."

"Guess we can always ask," I mumbled.

"Hello, friends!" a new Seat said as hebecame.

I had been starting to feel... under-dramatic in my presentation, considering how the last three Seats had appeared. Now I felt like I might be over-dressed.

He was tall and somewhat willowy but had a long, thick beard of black curls and was shaved bald. His eyes were bright and his expression somewhat playful, his big bushy eyebrows expressive as he looked around and grinned. He was wearing an orange Hawaiian floral shirt, some sort of swim trunks, and flip-flops. Standing next to him, looking slightly annoyed, was a gorgeous raven-haired woman wearing a business pantsuit.

"Anna," the man said, "I am so happy you made it."

"I can'tnot make it, Yaroslav," Anna sighed. "When you show up, I am forced to show up, you bastard."

"Is not my fault!" Yaroslav said. They both spoke in thick Eastern European accents. "I did not make these rules, yes? But I am still happy to see you, my darling."

"You always say that, and I always buy it," Anna sighed. "And then in a week you'll have pissed me offagain and I'll be flying back to my company. Again."

"It can be different this time, my love," Yaroslav said, grabbing her hand. "I promise this. You are always most important in my heart."

"You know what I think of your promises," Anna said.

"Anna, please. You are embarrassing me in front of our new friends," he said, gesturing towards Lauren and I.

Anna rolled her eyes and then pulled her hand from Yaroslav, walking over to Lauren and I. "Hello, Jeremiah Grant," she said in that thick accent, nodding to us. "Lauren Baxley. I think I must apologize for the work of one of my companies. I own many of the modern news organizations from our world, and one of my magazines was... overzealous in their coverage of your rise without at least asking for comment."

"That was you?" Lauren asked, frowning.

"One of my companies," Anna clarified. "Though the buck stops with me, as you Americans say. I would like to offer you compensation for the slight; yours is the first ascendance in some time, Jeremiah Grant, and I had not realized the impact it would have on my organization."

"It's-" I started.

"I'll be happy to discuss that with you," Lauren said, squeezing my hand softly to keep me from talking. Again I found myself shaking my head in chagrin as Lauren traded contact information with another of the other Seat's Primes. Anna wasn't quite as unearthly gorgeous as Khatmaa, but she was still very hot.

"Hello, Jeremiah Grant," Yaroslav said, sliding around his Prime and offering me his hand. "It is good to meet you, yes? Let me cut to the chase - I own Australia. It is mine. I party down there, so unless you want to come have some party fun, you stay away, yes?"

"I- Sure," I said.

"Good!" Yaroslav grinned, slapping his thigh. "We understand each other. Is basis for healthy relationship. Anna and I-"

"We're not together," Anna said. "Don't talk like we're a couple."

"Oh, my littlemilaya, don't say such things. We are the greatest of love stories," Yaroslav said.

Anna sighed and tucked her phone back in her suit jacket pocket, then took Yaroslav by the shoulder and started pushing him towards the seats next to Lauren and I. "In private, Yaro," she grunted.

As they sat down I realized that a big, grey wolf had silently been stalking across the centre of the circle, and it hopped from one throne up to the Patron seat just as Yaroslav and Anna were getting settled. Their thrones became reminiscent of the onion-domed churches and historical buildings I'd seen in pictures, colourful and crowded with spires, but strangely I got that feeling again that I was looking at them like they were... on a beach?

The wolf spoke, which was weird to watch it mouth the human words. "Yaroslav, Ninth Seat of the Council of Threes, Lamplighter, the Mad Monk, Father of the Rus and the Slavs, the Great Builder and Breaker, Grand Priest of the All-Being, sits in attendance by the joy of Creation."

"Can you stop planning for me to have sex with other people's Primes?" I muttered to Lauren under my breath.

"She wants to apologize," Lauren said. "How else is someone supposed to apologize to a fertility Seat?"

"With words?" I suggested.

Lauren shrugged. "Just trying to make sure you get every ounce of power, baby."

"And likely antagonize another Seat in the process," I pointed out.

"Fine, fine," Lauren agreed.

The next seatbecame with little fanfare. He was a tall Chinese man wearing a black suit, his chiselled jawline broken by a small goatee and his hair cut severely short. The thing that was weird was that there were two of him. Oh, also the serpent-like dragon that slithered out of thin air and pirouetted around the two men in a whirling display. So maybesome fanfare.

They didn't say anything, simply moving as one over to the thrones on the other side of me and Lauren from Yaroslav. As they sat their thrones became concrete structures that looked like severe skyscrapers, but then bright neon lights lit up and down their length spelling things in pinks and blues and greens like a busy city at night.

"Xi Zuang, Eighth Seat of the Council of Threes, Curator of the Imperial Dynasties, the Grand Architect, High Magister of the All-Being, sits in attendance by the joy of Creation."

"Creepy," I mumbled to Lauren. Both of the duplicate men were scanning the room with the exact same movements.

"How is he his own Prime like that?" Lauren asked.

"They are twins," Adama answered.

"That doesn't explain the copycat routine," I said.

Another manbecame, and this one was different. So far each of the Seats had something in common - they were all physically fit. It had been one of the earliest things I did with my magic, so it made sense that if any of them weren't happy with their own aesthetics they would change themselves like I had. This guy, apparently, didn't give a fuck.

He was tall, I'd give him that, but he was fat. He had a gut that hung on him like a heavy sack, and even his finely tailored suit couldn't hide that fact. He leaned heavily on a silver-capped cane and smirked from behind a thick white moustache as he doffed his tophat. "Cheerio, friends," he said.

Entering with him was a much younger-looking woman, blonde and pretty in a severe sort of way. Her hair was back in a braid and physically she looked like she could probably rip a guy in half. She was jacked. "Father," she said, looping her arm the the man's. "Socialize or sit?"

"Just a moment of socializing, my dear," he said, patting her hand on his arm. "We should greet the new member of our little society."

"Of course," the muscled woman nodded and then started leading her father over to Lauren and I. They made a good pair, putting on their act, but I wasn't buying it for a second. What Seat would let themselves get fat, let alone require leading or direction or a cane?

I stood to meet them, Lauren joining me.

"Good day, sir," I said, offering my hand.Good day? His oldtimey British affectation had me talking alike someone from a period TV show. "Jeremiah Grant, and my Prime, Lauren Baxley."

"Good day to you too, lad," the man said, puffing out his chest and smiling kindly. "Uwe Ernhardt, and my daughter Ima. Please tell me none of these roughians have put the screws to you yet, have they?"

"Just a little verbal sparring here in the chamber," I said, keeping a smile on my face even as I was trying to figure out if hiding behind this persona was one of the Seats I had already 'met.' Based on the slight raise of one of his eyebrows, I think he caught my 'very specific' truth.

"Well, welcome to the Council," Uwe said.

"It is so good to see one of the empty seats finally get filled again," Ima nodded. "When we lost Ezekiel it was a blow to Order in the magical world."

"Well, I hope I can fill those shoes," I said.

"Oh, no need to worry about that, lad," Uwe said. "No one has any big expectations of you for the first hundred years or so at least. You need time to learn and grow - new Seats are like oak trees - they don't become Great unless they are given space and time."

"That's very kind of you," Lauren said, mirroring Ima as she looped her arm through mine. "But Jerry really does want to be aworking Seat."

"Hmm, well, my best advice would be not to rush into things," Uwe said. "Look before you leap, as they say!"

"I'll try my best," I nodded, wondering if that was a coded warning that I'd done just that with George Stoker.

"I'm sure we'll find time to chat," Uwe said. "But we really shouldn't hold up our last arrival. Ndia does make quite the entrance. Enjoy your first meeting, lad."

Ima led him away after we said our goodbyes, heading over to their seats.

"Another nice pair," Lauren said, settling down. "I'll need to get Ima's number-"

"Lauren," I warned her softly.

"Not for that," Lauren scoffed. "Or... not unless she asks. I just think it's a good idea to have some ways to do backdoor communicating if things are tense magically. And having a Life Seat on board would-"

"Baby, I don't think he's a life seat," I said.

As they went to sit, Uwe had pulled the silver head from his cane and unsheathed a claymore worth of broadsword from it, and it looked like it was made of pure bone. He set it up on the Patron throne, and then sat down with Ima and their thrones turned into a thing of gears, smoke, and war. Missiles rose from behind them, and wings of fanned machine guns spread from the backs of the thrones. Bullets, millions of bullets, rained down from the sky around them until they were up to their knees in brass. And then blood began to seep up from below the carpet of bullets, mingling with the brass in a horrible display of passive carnage.

"Oh," Lauren said.

The voice came from the bone sword, but I wasn't exactly sure how. "Uwe Ernhardt, Third Seat of the Council of Threes, Lord of War, The Great Forge, Father of Technology, the Gravefiller, Son of the Bone Rite of Death's Dominion, sits in attendance by the inevitability of their will."

"Don't judge a book by its cover," I sighed.

"Fuck me," Lauren said, and for the first time in a few weeks it wasn't a literal request.

"It's time," Adama said with a weird reverence in her voice

"For what?" I asked.

"Her," Adama said, beaming proudly.

The womanbecame, and I understood. She was black, with skin almost the colour of charcoal, and beautiful in a savage way. She was naked except for whorling runic patterns painted onto her skin in orange-red clay and while she was bald there was no arguing her femininity - her breasts were large and her nipples engorged, and her belly was swollen as she was heavily pregnant.

Other than the starkness of her being naked and pregnant there wasn't anything particularly dramatic about her, but with her came an aura of....Old. Old power. It was like she almost had a personal gravity to her.

With her was an equally naked black man, a massive slab of muscle that made even the other big black man in the room Marcel, the Death Seat, look average. He was also sprouting a ridiculously huge erection.

They were like the living embodiments of African fertility idols and I might have been tempted to laugh if not for the heavy reality of the situation.

"Jerry," Lauren muttered while looking at the pair. "I do not ever,ever, want you to make your dick that big."

"Wasn't planning on it," I murmured back. That guy could probably club someone over the head and kill them with that fuckstick. It might have been a foot and a half long and thick as his big wrist.

It was ridiculous.

And it was pointing right at us.

"Jeremiah Grant," the woman said as she approached, waddling slightly behind her pregnant belly. "Welcome to the Order of Fertility Shaman. I am Ndia, and this is my husband Beno. We welcome you."

"We thank you for your welcome," I said, standing and bowing slightly without really knowing what I was doing. I felt like she had almost a royal presence, but I also felt resistance to that feeling, knowing that we were... equals?

"To give thanks for your ascendance, would you like to impregnate me?" Ndia offered. "I am certain it would please the Mother greatly to see two of her favoured children coming together in such a way."

"Um," I said too loudly. "That- Ah-"

"Ah, yes, I am currently pregnant already," she smiled, rubbing her belly. "And you are still young to our ways. If you would like to copulate with me, to both our benefit, I will store your semen away until after the birth of my daughter here and then allow your sperm to impregnate me in the days following."

I worked my jaw for a moment, not really knowing what to say.

"We truly appreciate your offer," Lauren said, stepping in to save my bacon. "But we are planning to use the symbolism of Jeremiah's first fathering of a child for a ritual."

"Ah, well, I am sure this would please the Great Mother as well," Ndia nodded. "Perhaps in the future then."

She bowed slightly to me in return and then snapped to her husband, who hadn't said anything but did stare at Lauren with that gigantic cock pointing towards her. He moved, and they headed over to their thrones.

"What the fuuuuck," Lauren hissed softly.

I didn't know what to say.

When they sat, I somehow wasn't surprised that Ndia immediately reached over and began slowly stroking Beno's huge cock. What I was surprised by was the frog-person that seemed to wriggle out of the not-ground like he was raising up out of mud, and then in one big leap he jumped to the Patron throne in their group.

Now it was my turn. "What the fuuuuuck?"

Their thrones had turned into people. I had no idea if they were real people or not, but they certainly looked real. They were twisted and contorted, but somehow formed the thrones, and of course there was a man right under Ndia with a cock that drilled up into her pregnant pussy.

"If I tap my heels three times and say 'there's no place like home' do you think we can get out of here?" Lauren murmured.

"Just try not to stare," I whispered.

"Thank you for not being a freak," Lauren said, squeezing my hand.

"You say that now," I pointed out. "Maybe in a couple of thousand years-"

"Ndia, Sixth Seat of the Council of Threes," the Frog-man droned. "Mother of Civilization, the High Oracle, She Who Shall Birth the Generations, Last Daughter of Punt, the Eternal Matron-Witness, Priestess of the Great Order of Fertility Shamans, sits in attendance by the will of the Mother."

"By rite of the Eldest, I call this Council to order," Ndia said, her voice carrying throughout the space even though she spoke quietly. I was quickly realizing that Intention seemed to have a lot of importance here - if I only wanted Lauren or Adama to hear me, all I needed to do was intend on it. If I wanted everyone to hear me, I just needed to intend that. The space was a reflection of magic, or more likely was made entirely of magic and so followed similar rules.

It was also hard not to notice the empty throne sitting around the other side of the circle. Apparently, mine wasn't the only Seat that had been sitting empty.

"Just for the sake of clarity of order," Uwe said from the unholy shrine of war that his throne had become, "I remind the Council that we are now even-numbered once more, so all votes that are tied will lean to the side that favours less action on the part of the Council as a whole."

"Indeed. Thank you, Uwe," Ndia said. "Now, I believe we had several outstanding issues from our last meeting?"

And for the next three hours I felt like my brain was going to melt out of my ears because of how boring and petty every topic was. How could they havealready talked about the travel permissions of Xi Zuang and Yaroslav through Southern Asia and the Middle East and not come to some sort of agreement? And yet somehow Genghis Khan (I wasn't sure if I'd ever think of him as Temüjin again) was able to string his demands and complaints into almost an hour of back-and-forth bickering of what sort of travel, and magic, could be used in his territory. And just when that discussion seemed to have been agreed upon, Marcel mentioned that Uwe owned factories throughout the region in question and wasn't restricted by any means, which sparked the whole debate again as to why Genghis Khan was so adamant about some Seats but not others being restricted.