Vaysh burned.
I'd watched him ride into our collective, and steered away as any
sane sentient being, whether human or har, should do around open flame.
He would burn and scorch; he was seared into the very marrow of this
mutant blood that flowed in my veins; from sight alone my cells were
branded. Of course I briefly tried to keep my distance, knowing as
instinctively as a plant turns to the sun, or a drowning man clings to
anything to keep him from dying in watery depths, that to get close to
him would cause an elemental transfiguration.
I was stone: solid, yet porous when necessary.
But you know what happens when rock is punished by relentless heat.
Lava. Liquid, destructive, transient.
Could anyone ever look back at our lives and not marvel at our exploits,
our so un-refined, un-controlled, Wraeththu-anathema love for each
other?
* * * * *
My first thought when the small entourage came riding in was that some
har, somewhere, had made a grave error in judgment. All of us, we
Wraeththu, are this mutated amalgam of the sexes, two combined into one,
yet presumably not both at once. Ever the enthusiastic pioneer, however,
I'd vowed to myself to try and find out, which I did,
successfully.
The hara who approached wore leather of rich chestnut, designs scored
into them that resembled constellations. They looked heavenly, quite
easy on the eyes, but also as haughty and distant as the stars, radiant
and far off. We'd known they were coming, as the one who seemed to
be their leader had sent out a thought-call. Our clan head, Monarch, had
replied and warily bid them approach. Wraeththu hadn't been in
existence all that long then. We were still actively hunted down though
of course we fought back with deadly vengeance.
Their horses were as well fashioned and groomed as their masters. I
wondered if they had some kind of occult or spiritual connection to
equines. Each tribe and splinter group I'd come across or heard
about appeared to have taken on its own unique personality, passion,
and/or perversion. I didn't know, philosophically, what I thought of
that, as it reeked of humanity to me. We all came from different
backgrounds, though, had been incepted in myriad ways with tales of
bliss and horror (or both), so I supposed it made sense that each small
stronghold would have a very different culture shaped by their
respective leaders.
A willowy har with long hair the colour of burnished sand dismounted,
his presence commanding despite his fetching, sinuous body movement.
Before I had become har, I'd of course been a human male, with
raging hormones that had churned and bruised me though I'd not had
an outlet aside from solo release. My fantasies hadn't involved men,
back when the decaying world still boasted of its male and female
polarities. I'd had a love affair of sorts with the insatiable
creature between my legs, dreaming of burying it in a silken heat of
some secretive, foreign darkness. A flare of my former self, the insipid
human part I'd hoped had been scoured away forever, raised its
regressive head when confronted with Vaysh, as I soon learned this
compelling har was named.
"He's flaming."
The ancient slur blindsided me, some dormant, pre-har wire in my brain
tripped by the sight of him. Perhaps back in the past this Vaysh had
favoured his own gender, and been flamboyant about it. It wasn't for
me to ferret out of him, or care. We were Wraeththu now, beyond such
banal and reductive concepts of she and he. This har evoked more of the
feminine in outward display, but I soon discovered he had balls of
steel. Vaysh was a sword, clothed as a sylph.
Our tribe leader met with Vaysh and the five har who had accompanied him
while the rest of our group got back to what we needed to do, primarily
ensuring that our enclave was safe, and our crops tended to. I had
additional tasks: I was responsible for writing down in a somewhat
organised fashion the lessons to be learned to move from Neoma to
Brynie. We had only two Ulani in our tightly-knit group, two Pyralists.
They were teaching what they could, but I saw in their eyes and heard in
their occasionally strained voices that they knew we would need to seek
outside resources. My closest companions, Euclase, Ondin and Belvac,
had, like me, been older when incepted; sixteen, or seventeen. In our
dead pasts, we'd been groomed for the euphemistically-called higher
education; wise-arsed scholars to be, was our triumvirate. Now, as
Wraeththu, we hungered ravenously for knowledge, constantly testing our
new abilities much to the chagrin of our tribal leaders.
One balmy night a couple of weeks before Vaysh's arrival, I was mulling over some bit of telepathic arcana, puzzling over
particular uses of controlling energy when I paused outside the
open windows of Monarch's study.
"Fine. We we'll send for one of the Kakkahaar. Or, perhaps more
wisely, enlist one of the Gelaming."
"We've got to do something," I heard my mentor, Kyrgian,
say in exasperation. "They could nearly all move on to Ulani, and
at least two, Ashmael and Belvac, could, in time, aspire to
Nahir-Nuri."
I paused, wondering if they sensed my presence, but they appeared
engrossed in their heated discussion.
"Kyrgian, you can't possibly see that in them."
"They're devastatingly intelligent!"
"Many are. It takes more than just brains to achieve those
illustrious castes."
"I know that. But it's a crime for them to be stifled at any
point in their progress. We've done well so far, but sooner than
perhaps you expect, they'll be desperate for more knowledge, at any
cost. You know that what I'm saying is the truth. We have an
embarrassment of riches in our har, and if they're held back,
they'll simply turn to darker, equally powerful
conduits."
There was a pause, heavy with foreboding and resignation. My heart had
sped up, both at hearing such unexpected praise, but also at the thought
of studying the higher levels of instruction. Kyrgian indeed spoke the
truth: we weren't particularly brutal or war-like; our sport was
learning, seeing just how far we could test and expand our new bodies
and energies. I was flattered that Kyrgian thought me capable of
achieving such an elevated state within Wraeththu, and I didn't doubt
for a minute that I would succeed if given the
opportunity.
Monarch let out a sigh before taking a drink of something— wine,
probably, as we had it in abundance.
"I concur. I've had a premonition, but have been loath to speak
of it."
"We'll have visitors soon, won't we? I've had a sense
of it as well, vague shadows on the outskirts of my dreams. They
won't seek our ruin, at least those are the divinings I've
had."
"No, they'll join our tribe, and we'll be stronger for it.
But their coming will herald a profound change for us. And the outcome
of that I can't envision."
I'd heard enough, and felt both exhilarated and guilty at having
eavesdropped on their conversation. It had been an accident, walking by
just then, but deep in my guts I'd never been one to think that
anything truly happened by chance.
I was brought back from my musings about the premonitions of the arrival
of our new guests when Ondin cornered me in the laundry. I'd been
supervising the youngest in our clan while he found suitable clothes for
the visiting har.
"What do you think? They seem awfully protective, and secretive.
And a bit too pretty. I doubt they've ever had to cleanse a town
before."
I turned on him, my mouth twisted to the side. "Looks are
deceiving, as the pithy saying goes, especially with our kind.
You're pretty," I said, a biting sting in my voice.
"That didn't stop you from killing over a dozen
men."
"It had to be done!" he insisted, hurt and prideful anger
jostling for dominance on his expressive face. "And I'm not
pretty. I wouldn't break a mirror looking at it, but we all know
you're the most dashing har in our group."
"Flattery will get you everywhere," I teased, lightening the
mood and grabbing at his admittedly shapely backside, tightly encased in
leather trousers.
"Oh, bugger off." Ondin's umber eyes flashed
mischievously. "Besides, I'm taken."
I groaned at that. "Are you har or not? This idea of possession, of
'mine' and exclusivity, that's human, Ondin."
"It was a joke," he protested, sitting down and beginning to
plait a thin braid from long mahogany hair he tugged down from above his
ear. It was a nervous habit, and he knew that I knew that. Still, I
wasn't in the mood to rub his nose in it.
"You and Wyngarr are chesna. Fine. But you're not his,
and he's not yours."
Ondin sneered, pleasantly. "You're one to talk,
tiaharr-steady-aruna-diet-of-Euclase."
I rolled my eyes and heard Jaffa, the young Aralid, snicker.
"Euclase and I have been friends for years. It's natural that
we seek each other's company. But we're not all cloying about
it."
Ondin's expression grew more grave. "In all seriousness, do you
think now that these har have shown up, those
changes—"
"Not now," I said meaningfully as I jerked my head toward
Jaffa, who'd become still to listen more attentively to our
conversation.
"Let's go for a walk, then. Jaffa, I know we don't have
much that's spare, but you're bright and can figure something
out. The nicest tunic and trousers should be given to Vaysh. He's
the one who led them to us."
The youth stood, his gesticulating hands like the fluttering leaves of
an aspen. "He looks female."
"For fuck's sake!" I exclaimed, beginning to lose my
temper. "Is everyone regressing today?"
Jaffa shrank back, his already wide eyes now as large as saucers. I
didn't often raise my voice.
"What are you?" I yelled at him.
Instead of buckling, he stood proudly, though fear still hung in his
eyes like a diaphanous veil. "I'm Wraeththu."
"Damn straight. You're male and female, got it? Now quit
thinking like the hapless youth you were nine months ago and please
assure me that you've actually been paying attention to the life
you're living."
"I have, honest. Sorry, Ashmael," he said, worrying his lower
lip and shoving his hands into the pockets of his overvest. "He was
just surprising, that's all. I'd forgotten, or, really, I'd
just put my past out of my mind, and seeing him made some of it come
back. I'm har, Vaysh is har. No difference."
My heart warmed at the boy's earnestness. He'd been lucky, and
had it a hell of a lot easier than most of us. His inception and clan
loyalties had been relatively peaceful.
"Yes. That's right. Ondin and I are going to take a walk, but
we won't be long. After you've taken the clothes to the cloister
where our guests are staying, please find Wycker and make sure that the
visitors' horses have been tended to."
I strode over to him and he flinched, but stood his ground as firmly as
a tall pine. Leaning down, I held him in a tight embrace until he
softened against me. He snuck his wiry arms around my back and nestled
his face against my chest for a moment, then eased away.
"I'll be honoured to take care of them," he said, nerve
again in his voice.
"If I knew more about them, I'd tell you," I said. "I
don't think they'll be strangers for long, to any of
us."
Jaffa nodded as Ondin stood up, leading the way out of the warm confines
of the laundry room into an equally sultry twilight. He offered me a
cigarette from a silver case and I decided to indulge. Our bodies
weren't negatively affected by it, and I'd discovered that my
alcohol tolerance had skyrocketed. I didn't see the need to be a
lush nor a chimney, however, just because I could.
I found myself wondering why I'd jumped to the defense of this
— effeminate, yes — har who didn't know me from the
Aghama's house cat. He had triggered something in me. It was
unsettling. No, Vaysh's arrival to our enclave of scholarly hara was
definitely more than unsettling, or unnerving. I would be changed; my
foresight of it was axiomatic. My inner polarity churned, the idea of
Strong or Proper or Companion spinning without direction. A part of me
wondered, somewhat dazedly, if I would wake tomorrow to see the orb of
the sun regally rising— from the West. Angered at my overactive
imagination, I took a deep drag off of the cigarette and quashed my
whirlwind thoughts.
"As I was saying," Ondin drawled, his Southern accent even
more pronounced than mine. We'd all noticed that our speech had been
tempered somewhat by our inception, but certainly not made completely
neutral, either.
"You were about to go on with your fanciful ideas in front of
Jaffa. It was uncalled for."
"You've just been there in your head," Ondin said matter
of factly. "It's pretty obvious when you're thinking about
things that are either really complex, or you'd prefer to keep
secretively to yourself."
"So?" I snapped.
"Down, boy." Ondin put up his hands in mock surrender.
"Didn't mean to touch a nerve. But these har, their
coming— it's what Monarch and Kyrgian were talking about.
Doesn't it have to be?"
"I should never have told you about that."
We ambled slowly, nearly shoulder to shoulder, the droning symphony of
cicadas a shimmering backdrop of early evening.
"P'shaw. It's not as though I've not done my share of
accidentally hearing things in advance of a Gathering. You and Belvac
and me, and maybe Euclase— there's just not all that much left
for us to master before we'll be ready to become Ulani. A few
months, if that." He shrugged elegantly, taking a deep inhale of
his cigarette.
"I don't have the feeling Vaysh and his group are any more
advanced than we are," I hedged, wondering what Ondin's
thoughts were about their caste. To be honest, it wasn't the caste
and its title that interested me, though I'd had a few ridiculous
daydreams of exalted status, being a hand-picked strategist for the
legendary Gelaming, whomever and wherever they really were.
Ondin cocked his head and grinned wickedly. "If it has to do with
aruna, something tells me they're far more
advanced."
I snorted, trying to suppress the shudder of delight that had frissoned
down my spine to lodge teasingly in my groin. I'd thought the same
thing, of course. "And what exactly do you think Wyngarr will have
to say about your soliciting of
that kind of
instruction?"
My tongue tapped the bottom of my front teeth as Ondin's smile grew
more feral, but then his enthusiasm for the sleek newcomers seemed to
wane. "I don't know. He might consider letting one of them
share our bed. Once. Or twice."
I gave him a calculated look, pausing to lean back against the trunk of
an ancestral pine, its bark still warm from the heat of the day. "A
ménage a trios? How adventurous."
"Surely there's another word for that now," he mused, his
handsome face absorbed as he puzzled over the possible harish
vocabulary.
"I'll admit it," I said, some drumbeat tapping a brazen
tattoo in my chest. "I'd like to ride one of those
horse-lords."
Ondin only shook his head, amused and slightly horrified. "Now look
who's regressed. Aruna is far more than just a conquesting fuck,
Ashmael."
"You're crass."
"I learned from a master."
* * * * *
Dinner was a much more elaborate affair than we usually experienced.
Jaffa helped out Vox and Polaris, two other Aralids who, thankfully for
us, were quite handy at cooking. We sat at circular tables, as was our
custom, one each of the visiting har interspersed with our tribe. Trying
not to be overt about my undeniable pull to Vaysh, instead I found a
place next to the har who seemed to be closest to him, Opequon. His
oddly short hair was an intriguing colour; satiny black shot through
with bright viridian. Seeing the luminous green strands lit by our
torches made me think of the aurora borealis, and I was all set to tell
him that until I was brought up short by the anguish harboured carefully
behind his calm demeanour.
The others at my table and I made him welcome, trying to stick to
updates of Megalithica and any news we could dig out from him, all
without discussing the one topic we were so desperate to know: were they
staying? What were their plans? That would be discussed at the
Gathering, later in the evening.
The outside world appeared not to have changed too terribly much since
we'd splintered off from the Unneah. The Varrs held their stronghold
in the north, and apparently some Gelaming had caught wind of their
conquests and begun voyaging across the sea, creating a protected realm
of their own in the south, but these hara did not really know where. The
Gelaming wished to remain hidden in plain sight, or so it seemed. There
were still humans in existence; tiny, often fierce bands, grimly clawing
at their fading numbers and striking out against Wraeththu when they
could. Opequon and their small entourage had been ambushed a couple of
months back and three of their hara slaughtered. Suddenly Opequon's
shorn neck and haunted eyes made sense. None of us needed to ask; the
loss he had suffered was lamented with each breath.
Though potentially deadly, our lives, it was exciting, too. We suffered
from a human saying, doggedly lodged in my memory: verily, we were
cursed to live in interesting times. Not infrequently in my early years
as har I had to go off by myself for walks deep into the surrounding
primeval forests. There I would scream out my fear and exaltation at
traversing this irrevocably post-human terrain. I sometimes felt even my
harish body wasn't strong enough to bear it all. I marveled that one
day I'd simply fly apart into a dazzling shower of opalescent
sentience before being absorbed back into the ceaseless song of the
universe.
Aruna was good for getting me out of the galloping rampages of my mind
and back into my corporeal self. I sought it out often.
Once we'd all cleaned up from the sumptuous meal — we were far
more egalitarian than most tribes, especially back then — Monarch
called us to Gather. Though it was a sticky, windless night, he lit a
ceremonial fire regardless. Vaysh and Opequon stood slightly apart from
the group, not speaking aloud, certainly communicating through mind
touch. They approached to flank Monarch and Kyrgian, representing (so
the gesture mandated) their integration to our clan, while observing and
accepting the leadership already in place. I felt a knot in my stomach
ease at the sight of it. It wasn't that I'd thought this
honey-haired har and his few followers would come in and try to usurp
Monarch and Kyrgian, but their actions showed an intuitive nod to how we
functioned as a group. Their assimilation wouldn't be fraught with
misunderstanding and strife. The night air caressed us, suffused with
peace and the promise of an enterprising dawn.
I stayed up drinking half the night, my appetite for the stories of
these new hara insatiable. In some ways all of our tales were variations
on the same theme: in a metamorphosis of blood and pain, we'd
struggled away from our human lives, abandoning family, so-called
civility as it gasped its tormented, putrid last breaths, and embraced
new visions, each of us spawned relentlessly by passion. If we were
honest with ourselves, it was obvious that Wraeththu were children of
desire. Some boys were incepted against their will; I'd heard of it
and didn't doubt it for a second. But in those early years, at least
as I believed it, to give the gift of becoming har was a sacred rite. I
had been religious, back
before. The transformation from sniveling
human to Wraeththu took my breath every time, as I humbly knelt before
each new, divine manifestation of the inconceivable.
Vaysh had sat and listened to me blather on about my self-perceived
profound thoughts on incarnation and inception for ages, matching me
glass for glass of robust red wine. I was seized by the need for him to
speak, to share with me, this otherworldly creature who was very nearly
my age. Yet, he bore his complex harish self with the same inherent ease
of being I'd witnessed at the Gathering. I was dying to impress him,
though even in my alcohol sodden stupor I recognised I wasn't doing
so. If anything, I was only amusing him as I chattered on into the
night.
"Tell me about you," I pleaded, finally. "You
should've told me to shut up my pompous mouth ages
ago."
His grey eyes glinted with mischief. "Okay, Ashmael. I will, but
not right this minute. It's been a long and stressful journey for
us, and I think that I should heed the call to bed. Before I go,"
he said, leaning closer, drumming his long fingers on my leg, "you
seem as though you have something else you want to tell me. What is
it?"
I didn't even pause to think. "I want to share breath with
you," I said helplessly.
"You want to do far more than that," he replied with a sly
smile.
"Yes, of course I do." The words came out in a torrent,
heedless and unchecked by the usual filters between my mind and mouth.
"I can't find the words, but there's something about you,
you're so compelling," I said, attempting a last-ditch
seduction which, even to my ears, sounded pathetic and
desperate.
He chuckled, a melodious baritone sound. "Oh, I am
compelling. Aren't you chesna with Euclase? Or am I misinterpreting
the way you act around him?"
"We're
" I fumbled. "We take aruna with each
other, yes. He's been a close friend of mine, since boyhood. Human
boyhood. But we're not like Ondin and Wyngarr. I don't know how
I know, but you and I have a destiny together. I'm certain of
it."
Vaysh spread out his fingers so the palm rested close to the juncture of
my thigh and hip; I was sitting cross-legged. His expression had
changed, no longer playful, but introspective and distant, his thoughts
flying to a place I couldn't follow. I gazed at him, at the angle of
his cheekbones, the curve of his jaw. Vaysh's face was a geometry of
promise, the topography of desire.
"I'm not just trying to get between your legs," I
whispered, feeling blood roar in my ears.
A feral, possessive smile bloomed on his lips. "When we first take
aruna — and we will, Ashmael, have no doubt," he said, his
voice roughened with cigarettes and palpable desire, "it is I who
will seek out your depths. I'll sink into your mossy glens, and then
you'll truly know the fullness of destiny."
A strangled cry escaped my mouth before my lips claimed his, sharing
breath with a ferocity that made my heart stutter in my chest. Vaysh
tasted of velvet and stormclouds; he withheld nothing as we kissed. I
spun through parts of his past, whirling and dazzling like a hawk above
mountains. His breath was sunsets and dew, dappled horses and the erotic
tang of leather.
Eventually we parted. Vaysh reached tenderly into my mind. We each
have partings to make.
I nodded, struggling to my feet and assisting Vaysh up from the ground.
In my esoteric studies, I'd spent my energies on distant
mind-calling, as well as shielding my thoughts. This speech was so
intimate; why hadn't I been practising before now? I struggled for a
moment, taming my swirling cacophony of thoughts and longings.
Ashmael, Vaysh chided, lovingly. Breathe.
I did, never losing contact with his gaze, his pupils dilated so only
the faintest silver ringed the black.
I'm not used to this, I thought back, humbled.
You have a lot to teach me as well. This is only the beginning,
Vaysh said reassuringly, inclining his head toward our small station of
dwellings. "We should get back. No doubt our absence has been
noted."
I took his hand, intertwined our fingers, and wondered at the smearing
of damp against my palm. I glanced over at him, surprised when I saw
embarrassment flicker in his expression.
"I was nervous," he admitted with a refreshingly awkward
shrug. "You, this—" He gestured vaguely at me. "My
mind's a jumble of puzzle pieces. I need to get to know you.
It'll take time."
"All the time in the world," I bravely pledged, then unclasped
his hand, smothering my face with my palms. "What the fuck is
happening? We don't do this. We're supposed to have
evolved beyond this, Vaysh." I turned on him, panic burbling up in
me, a rare geyser set to burst with a catastrophic explosion. "Why
me? You?"
I almost wanted to hit him, to wipe off the untroubled, accepting set to
his face.
"Why not?"
His words weren't sarcastic, and now I could sense his feelings.
Deep within himself, in fact, there was an undercurrent of wondrous
fear. He would stay up the remainder of the few hours until dawn talking
through things with Opequon and Zain, his confidantes and allies. I
needed Euclase's understanding arms and perspective, too.
On the way to the cloister we'd passed a few har still chatting, and
I noted that Wyngarr and Ondin had taken Opequon under their wing, Ondin
massaging the new har's shoulders. Jaffa had fallen asleep near the
fire, his sweaty ginger hair plastered to his forehead. The light from
the burning embers played on his freckled skin. In my euphoric state, he
looked like a seraph. Once at the door to his new residence, I paused.
There were lights on inside; I suspected that Zain had waited up for
him.
"I'm blind and stumbling," I said, trying to articulate my
utter shock at my actions, much less my thoughts. I clawed for my usual
eloquence. "I'm not supposed to have feelings like this,
without purpose, or source. It's like something out of a human
novel. A poorly-written one," I added with a harsh snort.
Vaysh leaned forward until our foreheads touched. "It's
okay," he murmured. "This scares the shit out of me too. Good
night, tiahaar."
I couldn't keep the smile from tugging at my lips as I took my time
walking the short distance to my dwelling, a four-room house shared by
my three close companions. Quite often only three rooms were actually
used for sleeping, but especially since Euclase and I weren't bound
by chesna — though our decades-long friendship brought me
tremendous comfort — we slept alone at times, seeking solitude or
even taking aruna with one of the others in our tribe. Once inside the
house I cleaned my teeth and sought out my old friend. He was in his
room, sprawled on his side in the dark. At first I assumed he was
asleep, but I decided to test my newly-explored thought communication
ability, tentatively seeking his mind. He started at my touch, though
he'd been awake, his thoughts a turbulent stream of discontent and
resignation. He sat up to face me, lips pursed as he, too, reached out
solely through thought while trying to place a protective barrier to
shield himself.
What do you want? he asked peevishly. Did you get tired of
fawning over the lovely har and now you want to share my bed? Or did he
turn you down?
His last thought was full of self-congratulation at first. As I shook my
head and came to sit next to him, I could sense it change to
restlessness. He cared for me a great deal; perhaps only now were we
both realising how troublingly complex our interactions had become. I
ran my hands through his tousled hair before sharing breath. He resisted
just for a moment, but gave in to the comfort and familiarity of such a
simple, yet profound exchange. I was enfolded in his warmth as we shared
breath; Euclase as always, tasted of book-gilt and rustling
leaves.
"I want to hold you," I said, for it was the truth.
"You look as though you need to be held," he said, taking on
his usual role of companion more than lover, his unspoken questions
hovering busily around him like moths. "Here, let me take off your
boots."
I did and then lay on my back, staring sightlessly at the ceiling. From
a small hook Euclase had hung a mobile, the fanciful birds hanging
motionless in the still night. His artistry and imagination in carving
and other woodwork never ceased to astonish me, as well as his intuition
to understanding my moods. Euclase stretched out beside me, insinuating
his arm under my back and gently nudging until I rolled half across him,
my face pressed against the hard plane below his collarbone. With wide
fingers, he drew sweeping paths on my back, the finger pads pressing
gently on the linen of my tunic. I was at home here, brimming with
gratitude and melancholy. Our past seemed so simple; now it was changed,
impossible to be undone.
"I spent quite a while talking with Abelard," he said,
his voice low and pensive. "They've had a rougher time of it
recently, but it's made them strong. If they'd chosen to attack,
instead of join peacefully, well, certainly we'd not be lying here
like this."
I made a rumbling sound of assent. They were lissome, but in watching
them for as short a time as they'd been with us — mere hours!
— it was obvious by their selected armaments and wariness that the
world had turned them to warriors. Steely, and supple. No wonder our
band of defensive philosophers was so enraptured.
"Did he want to take aruna with you?" I asked.
Like all Wraeththu, Euclase was a beauty; surely Abelard had noticed.
Stockier than I was, Euclase's corded muscle was accentuated by
olive skin, bronzed a deep tan at the end of a long summer. His ebony
hair fell in loose ringlets down his back and he gazed out at this new
world through startlingly pale green eyes.
"It wasn't brought up, but I wouldn't be surprised he asks
in the future. I suspect I'll say yes. Would that trouble
you?"
His fingers slowed, undulating and kneading as I pondered the
question.
"Aruna keeps us whole, and nourishes our spirits. I want your
happiness, I always have."
His rich, loamy scent wafted up from the heated hollow of his neck, the
sweet acrid tang of sweat.
"That's not an answer." His tone was light, but I felt the
grave seriousness behind it. "Are you really beyond jealousy? Or
have your sights been swayed that quickly, even though I know you better
than anyone?"
I scooted up onto an elbow so I could look into his dear, familiar face.
"You know me best," I agreed, cupping his jaw with my other
hand, brushing my thumb on his cheek. I drank in the handsome contours,
the bewitching sparkle of his eyes that was now lacquered with sorrow.
In looking into his eyes, I saw that we felt a similar perplexing weft
and weave of wanting to rush forward into our diverging lives, and yet
grasp tightly to the moment at hand. Our years together underlay it all,
the pentimento only we could perceive in each other. That would
change— Euclase did know me best, but that time was coming to its
end.
"Anyone you deem worthy to hold in your arms, flesh to flesh,
should consider himself exalted," I said, feeling my own flesh stir
slowly to life as I rocked my growing arousal against his hip.
"Then you must be a demigod, you flatterer," he teased,
canting his groin to further stimulate the stiffening flower that
throbbed between my legs. I smiled seductively and was gifted with a
predatory stare before our mouths drew together again. Our kisses grew
more passionate until the need to remove the hindrance of clothing
became overwhelming.
"Let me be behind you," I said, feeling that he was still
fully flowered, our lengths sliding together with a delicious friction.
Euclase and I had explored myriad avenues of pleasure once he'd
become har. We had discovered much to our mutual satisfaction that our
advanced bodies intuited when our ouana-lim wasn't in danger of
possible injury and didn't retreat, even when soume.
I spooned behind him, my chest to his back, and slid deep into his
welcoming body. We groaned together; I began to thrust into him, a
rhythm slow and ancient as waves crashing on the beach. I sowed a
blooming path of kisses on his neck and shoulders as he guided my hand
to his ouana-lim, a jetting spire of bronze and orange. A near-steady
stream of profanity interspersed with my name tumbled from his lips. The
curled petals at his tip nudged my fingers as I took him in hand,
stroking in tandem with my thrusts.
Euclase was a master of control and skill, both as ouana and soume and
he was generous in heightening my pleasure. His body was a silken glove,
the spiraling unstoppable in our increasingly frenzied pursuit of each
other's completion.
"Mael, please, God, oh fuck," he groaned, clenching around me
so that I swore a torrent in return. "Please, release me, so
close," he babbled as I snapped my hips a few times and then arched
into him, stopping my motions on his outer organ. Deep inside him, my
butterfly tongue uncurled; it flickered against his hidden ember and he
shouted his ecstasy. As though I were outside of myself, I sensed more
than felt his jeweled drops on my fingers. My simultaneous release had
catapulted me to another plane of being, diffused in a chorus of
pounding heartbeats, the savoury musk of Euclase's devotion sparking
on my tongue.
We lay coupled together for some time until our breathing at last evened
out and I carefully withdrew from his warm hold. He shifted and turned
over, an apple-red flush in his cheeks and curled, wet tendrils of hair
stuck to his forehead.
"You've undone me," I rasped, my voice hoarse from our
unusually vocal lovemaking.
Euclase regarded me for a few moments, and then pressed a swath of light
kisses along my sweaty brow before he shared breath again. I tried to
memorise his taste and the comforting landscape of his soul. We would be
parting; perhaps not forever, but that was how it seemed at the time. I
brimmed with perceived profundity back then, every action and decision,
I felt, sent irrevocable ripples across the bottomless waters of our new
race.
"It's you who's undone me," Euclase countered softly,
wiping his face on a damp pillowcase. He snuggled against me in defiance
of the heat and our sweat-slicked skin. "I may be sore tomorrow.
Today. The sun will be up in not too long," he said, his voice
plaintive and timid in a way I'd not heard in a long time.
"Think of it as a gift to the tribe. I wouldn't be surprised if
the energy from our aruna created a protective aura around the
camp," I suggested, half serious.
"We've never even attempted Grissecon," he scoffed, but
then he slowly raised his head and used his fingers to move damp strands
of hair from out of my eyes. "But maybe these new hara are versed
in it. Beyond dry book knowledge, that is."
"That would be welcome, indeed."
I cocked my head before leaning in to press my lips chastely against
Euclase's. I was spent in every way, and wanted nothing more than to
drift off, sated and at peace. We held each other in weary but contented
silence, though I didn't let myself truly relax until I heard his
regular, feathery noises and was certain Euclase was asleep. I spared a
thought to Vaysh and wondered what the upcoming day would reveal about
him as well as the other five hara who were now a part of our tribe, and
how we would all certainly be changed. A short time later, I followed
Euclase into sleep.
* * * * *
The next few days were filled with excitement and a few minor power
skirmishes as the new hara became fully integrated into our camp.
Belvac, who had been spending much of his time off in a hermitage of
sorts in the woods, engaged in solitary contemplation and study, renewed
his dedication to the future of our group as a whole by actually being
bodily present. I'd respected his need for space and individual
pursuits, as I'd often felt that same pull myself. Now, however, I
saw him conferring with Kyrgian, or trying to take Jaffa back under his
wing, though the har would have none of it. He was far too intrigued by
the newcomers, especially Iolethe, trailing around after the kindly har
like a shadow. One midday I took Iolethe aside to reassure him that if
at any point Jaffa became a nuisance, he could let any of us
know.
"I don't mind, truly," he said, wiping at the sweat on his
ruddy skin. Iolethe wore his thick, caramel hair in a sea of complicated
braids, woven full of coral beads. Lively, robin's egg blue eyes
evaluated me before he asked, "When was he incepted?"
"Less than a year ago. Wycker is his older brother; they'd fled
when their town burned. Rival human gangs had destroyed every decent
person they could, and massacred their family."
Iolethe nodded. Violence and death had been the norm in the dystopic
playground of most large cities. I didn't know Iolethe's
particular inception story, and assumed if and when he wished to share
it, he would. "Has he been told about Feybraiha?"
"About what?"
"Feybraiha. Harish puberty."
I must have looked dumbfounded, because he scratched absently at a
mosquito bite and continued on. "He'll probably become an
emotional mess, have meltdowns, be miserable, feel like his body is on
fire, and then he'll need to be instructed in the ways of aruna.
It's much like human puberty, but more intense. He'll know who
he's been called to take aruna with; it's another one of those
things that we just know instinctively as har."
"But he's taken aruna, of a sort. He had to, after his
inception. Even though he was only eleven at the time."
"Right, but it was only to finalise his change, I assume. And he
doesn't crave it now."
I suddenly felt that I'd done our youngest member a terrible
disservice and realised just how much I still needed to learn about our
newborn race. All at once Vaysh's calm but sensual voice sounded in
my head.
You couldn't have known. Come and find me; I'd like to talk
with you.
I felt soothed by his voice, though disconcerted that Vaysh had seemed
almost a part of the conversation without physically being
there.
Were you eavesdropping on me from wherever you are? I asked
through mind-touch. My mind was indeed adapting, the different parts of
my brain stretching their newly aware, harish muscles.
Not exactly. I could hear the smile in his voice. But come
when you can.
"Oh, sorry," I said to Iolethe, who seemed to be expecting a
verbal response during my silent exchange with Vaysh. "Vaysh was
checking in with me, telepathically." I shook my head. "No
doubt it'll become second nature, but chatting like that from a
distance with regularity is still a novelty. I still struggle a
bit."
He smiled, warmth dancing in his expression. "It's worth
learning, but you're wise to be cautious. Getting back to Jaffa,
I'd be happy to talk with him about what to expect."
"Shouldn't we all know?" I asked, brushing invisible dirt
from my trousers and turning toward the edge of our dwellings nearest
the woods; without being told, I knew Vaysh would be there.
"Yes, that would be smart." Iolethe reached out and held my
bicep firmly, but in an unthreatening way. "Before Zain and I left
our former clan, there were har already trying to create new life,
solely among our own kind. It's only a matter of time before it
happens here, too. Jaffa is alone in his upcoming bodily trial; the rest
of you were older, as is common. I've at least seen somehar go
through Feybraiha and know the signs."
My mind was reeling; I'd been stunned into a rare silence by the
seeming preposterous statements Iolethe had so earnestly made.
"Har? Procreating?" My riotous imagination envisioned bloody
rooms, bellies cut open and reptile-like monstrosities rending the air
with hideous cries. "That's
unnatural," I settled
on, though 'perverse' and 'horrifying' wanted to slip
out instead.
Iolethe loosened his hand and instead pulled me close to him, his hand
snugly at my waist. "You're an academic, or were," he said
smoothly, taking a step in the direction I'd been heading to heed
Vaysh's summons. I walked necessarily at his side, not minding the
proximity. He, like Kyrgian, radiated a common sense and caring
benevolence I gravitated to at that point in my early harhood.
"Surely you know that eventually humanity will succumb, and become
as extinct as wooly mammoths. Inception has been the necessary way of
our generation, but we're already evolving as a race."
"I know. It's mind-boggling," I said, jamming my hands
into my pockets.
I was fond of Iolethe and his understated mannerisms; even in his few
days with us, I'd noted that he had a unique ability to make anyhar
around him feel useful and clever, though he rarely praised individuals
outright. I didn't think Vaysh would think anything of us walking
and talking, should we have our arms slung behind each other's
backs, but we were so early in our courtship — he and I were
nearly erupting with sexual tension after three days, but I was letting
him set the pace and we'd not taken aruna yet, which was
excruciating — I wanted him to be sure that I had no designs on
anyhar else. No doubt I had every reason to eat my self-aggrandizing
words I'd posited to Ondin about possession, and he'd gloat
until he'd gorged on it.
My mind was still fixated on harish
pregnancy? Incubation? What
the hell would it be? There were no Wraeththu anatomy books, no
surgeons. I certainly wasn't going to volunteer as a wielder of a
scalpel or as a subject.
"Have you seen?" I asked, my voice low and breathless. "I
just can't fathom it."
As we approached the edge of our camp, we saw Vaysh sitting on his
horse, Arches. Mine, a diligent mare named Willow, wandered
nearby.
"In my mind's eye, I've seen," Iolethe answered with
equally quiet reverence. "First things first, though. We'll get
Jaffa through his Feybraiha. I think it'll happen before autumn is
over, he just has that look about him. For now, enjoy your time with
Vaysh. You're good for him."
I turned as he stepped away, glancing up at Vaysh who gave him a
knowing, irritated glare. His affection for Iolethe and the others in
his small group poured from him, though, an auralic energy that pulsed
strongly enough to be felt, like enfolding, protective wings.
"You're meddling," he accused Iolethe before sitting up
straight. He tossed back his hair, the mannerism evoking a horse shaking
its mane. "I don't need your help, though your unnecessary
approval is noted."
An excited crowd of fireflies seemed to have lodged in my belly as I
went over and swung myself into Willow's saddle. I knew why there
was such a muddling in my stomach, the unrest travelling down to my
groin as I discreetly rubbed against the leather for a modicum of
relief. Vaysh's eyes were guarded as he told Iolethe we'd be
back later in the day. Once we'd ridden for a couple of minutes,
however, he glanced at me. The unspoken message was blatant, his
formerly tamed hunger now voracious.
To distract myself from the increasing discomfort of suffering an
erection while riding, I asked Vaysh whether or not he'd known any
hara who had tried to generate life together, not through the ritual of
inception.
"How on earth did you come to that topic?" he asked,
disdainful curiosity reflected in his furrowed brow. "It's
inevitable, of course, or as a species we'd not last much longer
than our actual life span, which is in itself an unknown. Still. I was
first born as a human male, so having a child of my own wasn't a
possibility. Reborn as Wraeththu perhaps I can, if the right har comes
along." The last part was said dryly and I snickered under my
breath.
"Someone to make a respectable har out of you?" I joked,
leering at him even as I spent precious seconds reining in my roaring
libido. It wasn't the idea of my seed combining with Vaysh's to
create an unspeakable, fantastical creature which ensnared me; it was
joining with him at all, knowing him intimately from inside and out, his
bewitching body, beguiling mind and mysterious soul.
We were riding into the woods, following a disguised trail to
Belvac's hermitage. There he and I would take aruna, I simply knew
it, just as I'd known where to find Vaysh. I'd never
inseminated? other har when taking aruna, and there were thankfully no
har-children around to that effect. A sliver of my rational self tended
some embers of fear that Vaysh and I could do such a thing, unwittingly,
but a soothing calm from outside myself reassured me that if and when I
created harling life, I would know. I had every belief that this,
Vaysh's and my inaugural and — I dared to treasure the word
— sacred joining would be burned into my memory forever.
"Respect like that doesn't interest me," Vaysh declared,
rousing me from my musings. He arched an eyebrow and gave me a look so
molten with lust I felt my ouana-lim strain against its
confines.
"By the Aghama," I moaned, knowing full well he could tell how
desperate I was to feel him, to share breath, to share absolutely
everything.
"Oh, Ashmael, you're so transparent." False irritation
threaded his voice. "I know you're dying to be naked together,
after days of waiting. Not much longer now before we burn your
companion's bed with the flames of our passion."
"Do you always talk like that about aruna?" I asked candidly.
Never mind my own inner flowery thoughts, but I kept them to myself.
Vaysh had arrived and without preamble or warning produced the key to my
heart and let himself in. But that didn't mean I adored all of his
mannerisms.
"Are you always so judgmental?" he shot back.
"No."
I bristled with righteous indignation as the rustic wooden structure
came into view. Vaysh had a point, which explained my itchy discomfort
with myself. Through all of this, my irrevocable change from human to
har, from intended university student to necessary murderer,
survivalist, and embarrassingly self-fascinated new creature, I'd
never let anyhar truly into my being. I did judge, and everyhar,
even Euclase, came up wanting. I did love Euclase, but we were like old
pines, comfortable and familiar, planted side by side centuries
ago.
We dismounted and let the horses wander nearby. I guessed that Vaysh had
spoken to Belvac about this spot; like so much about Vaysh, the
understanding simply flowed between us, wordless and certain. He stood
before me on the top of the three stairs until I walked up to join him,
paused on the threshold of the inevitable. My rancor had melted away;
all I felt as I interlaced our fingers was a labyrinthine emptiness,
that my soul was a hollow, chambered nautilus.
"Fill me," I whispered, bereft.
I began to drown, swept into his swirling currents of empathy. Then he
closed his eyes and tenderly pushed his breath into my awaiting mouth.
Vaysh shared pleasant memories from his childhood; images of his
inception and banding together with his current clan danced into me. I
gifted him with scenes of my own, including some wishful fantasies of
the two of us whose time I hoped would yet blossom into being. There was
a restless urgency pounding in my blood as our bodies rutted together. I
pulled away, breathing heavily, my hands itching to feel every inch of
his skin. A question I'd never thought to ask skipped onto my
tongue.
"How do I taste?"
Vaysh's gaze was that of a starving man sitting down to a feast. He
didn't answer for a time, unbuttoning my shirt, his fingers fumbling
in their haste much like my racing, stuttering heartbeat.
"Ashmael," he breathed into the sensitive flesh of my ear,
lust frissoning down my spine, "you taste of fire-warmed stone and
twilight. Of home."
I could do nothing but worship him. We somehow managed to situate
ourselves inside the hermitage and shed our clothes before I fell to my
knees before him, drinking in the wonder of his ouana-lim, its pulsing
vermilion and plum. I swallowed him down, working my throat to bring him
the greatest pleasure I could. Easing back, my tongue darted around the
opened petals, lapping and savouring the vinegarsweet of his
phosphorescent essence. His curses and adulations rained on me until I
was soaked in his praise.
I wanted to absorb him; I needed Vaysh to know every heated, grasping
contour, every dark recess of my heart. He put a finger under my chin
and tilted up my head. I released my prize, though his crimson stem
continued to jut proudly from its thatch of golden curls.
"Bed, I think," he said hoarsely.
We tumbled onto it, rolling and pressing skin against skin, hands flying
over muscle and bone like careening birds. I held my breath as I hovered
above him, achingly empty, soume in its entirety. A flicker of fear
ghosted across Vaysh's countenance; neediness seeped from my pores,
and doubtless the scent to him was overwhelming. I sank down onto his
ouana-lim, he the bolt, and I the latch until with a ragged sigh, we
were locked together.
Aruna isn't always transformative or profound, but for we Wraeththu
it has the potential to shatter and remake the universe. In my first
years as har, for all of my experimentation, I hadn't yet learned
much in the arts or finesse of taking aruna. That afternoon, however, as
the scent of primeval pine and resin filled our humble bower, I had my
first real taste of euphoric delirium. Vaysh clasped me down to him and
rolled us over, my legs thrown around his waist, my ankles crossed so I
could pull him ever deeper into me. Vaysh's frenzied rockings caused
the rickety bed to slam repeatedly against the floor. Through
sweat-stung eyes I consumed him, his open, panting mouth, the slightly
crooked lower teeth that were so precious in an otherwise too-perfect
visage. I was the sea; he was fey and bold. Valiantly he navigated
through my roiling waters until at last his thin, whipping sail struck
at dry land, deep within me.
Our release was the terrifying rush of a tsunami, and when it had passed
we lay in a jumble of limbs, gasping and wide-eyed. Amid the flotsam of
sheets and leather wrist bands that had slipped from their fastenings,
we gazed at each other, survivors of our passionate shipwreck.
Instead of being exhausted, I was invigorated, yet all I wanted was to
clean up a bit and rest together. Trust in my own limbs was suspect.
Vaysh gently and carefully uncoupled us; I wasn't all that often
soume and due to our athletic enthusiasm, I knew I would be a bit tender
for a time.
"You are—" I started to say, but Vaysh placed a finger
on my lips, effectively silencing my inadequate commentary.
He manoeuvred to lie on top of me, his lean form not quite as long as
mine. My ouana-lim had slowly re-emerged to take its usual place of
attention, so Vaysh was especially cautious as he covered me, pale and
silent as snow blanketing a mountain. He spread his fingers into mine,
burrowing his face against my neck, his lyrical chant only barely
audible. At last I figured out that he was offering up a prayer of
thanks, or of gratitude, though to whom I wasn't certain. After a
few moments he slid to his side, spooning to my torso. That was how I
dozed, the haunting hoot of an owl punctuating my hazy dreams.
* * * * *
"Get up, Ash! The camp!" Vaysh hissed, his eyes wide and
terrible.
"What?!" I exclaimed, my nerves instantaneously on alert as
well. Then I felt it, Belvac's call and, perhaps most startling of
all, Jaffa's abject terror.
"They're under attack. Come on, come on!" he bellowed as
we frantically dressed.
The horses had intuited our distress, and raced us home to our small
cluster of buildings. The sight assaulted all of my sensibilities—
depraved, brutal har battling with those of our clan, who with their own
knives and fists were retaliating fiercely.
Uigenna. I've got to find Llembara, Vaysh's clipped voice
sounded in my head.
"Vaysh!" I yelled, but he was gone and I fell into the
fray.
I wish that had been the day I'd discovered my calling to command,
but I was too young then, and everything I did was reaction, not guided
action. I saw we were vastly outnumbered, though to my crazed and
grateful evaluation, I saw nohar from my clan in my line of sight had
been slain. I roared as I galloped past one of the scarred Uigenna,
plunging the knife I'd taken from its holder at my waist into his
back, ignoring the sickening sensation of the blade sliding though
muscle and ribs to pierce his heart.
We fought bravely, but the Uigenna obviously had far more practise at
intimidating and killing hara. Eventually I found myself snarling,
standing at the front of a group of three of our tribe, slashing at our
enemies. Behind me was Jaffa, now soaked in blood, his hand gripping his
own knife he'd doubtless stolen from our kitchens. There was a
gloating sneer on the har facing me, certain he and his ruthless cronies
would murder us all, take our horses and God only knew what else. My
blood turned to ice when one of them, a terrifying beauty aside from the
gaping wound where his left ear once had been, spoke, his gaze fixated
on Jaffa.
"Somehar is a fiery, pretty thing. I think we should take him,
unspoiled."
There was a choking, terrified gurgle as Jaffa pressed up behind
me.
"Over this har's dead body," I growled.
The macabre joy of his intent to kill me had just passed across the
Uigenna's face when we were all cowed by an explosion. Our
assailants looked confused for a moment, then horrified as dazzling
tendrils of scarlet, corded light wrapped around their necks,
disappearing into their bodies as they writhed in agony, falling to the
ground.
I could only stare in shock, clawing at my own neck as I watched the
three Uigenna die in front of me. They screamed in pain until he life
had been choked from their bodies from this unrecognisable, malevolent
and yet resplendent force. Regaining my wits, I kicked at them to make
sure they were dead, yelling out in mind-touch to Vaysh and
Euclase.
Are you okay? What the fuck was that?
Yes, and Oh God, Mael, come now. It's Monarch, ricocheted
into my mind both at once, Vaysh's trembling, weary voice and
Euclase, in a panic.
I turned around, my body still thrumming with adrenaline. Jaffa, Polaris
and Wycker appeared relatively unharmed, albeit in a state of
shock.
"I'll be back. The Uigenna are dead. I've got to get to the
rest of our clan."
They nodded and Wycker's expression settled into disgust and fury as
he looked at the bodies of the dead har on the ground.
"I'll take them out away from here and burn them," he
spat.
I knew I needed to find Monarch and Euclase, but I spared precious
seconds to pull Jaffa to me. He shuddered.
"I killed one," he said fiercely.
"He won't be the last," I said, realising then just how
close we'd all come to being exterminated by these har. "Take
care of yourself. I'll be back as soon as I can," I promised
before sprinting away to the laundry where I sensed I'd find the one
who'd called for me.
The scene I faced there was too terrible for my rational mind to
contemplate, yet my body continued to go through the necessary motions
as I collapsed by the body of our clan leader. He'd been sliced open
from neck to hip, a festering wound oozing a hideous stench. I
couldn't imagine what they'd put on the blade to cause this. His
pallor was yellowish, the floor around him dark with pooling blood.
Euclase's eyes begged for assistance, for relief and consolation.
Kyrgian chanted, his hands held above Monarch, incanting spells of
healing and restoration.
"Ondin," I urged, and Euclase flew out the door to find
him.
Crouching at Kyrgian's side, I, too put forth what powers I had to
try and channel strength and regrowth from the earth. My concentration
wasn't what it should have been and I cursed my rampant mind. Ondin
ran in a few moments later, an audible gasp dying on his lips before he
snapped to attention and fell into the role of surgeon. He readied a
nearby pail with herbal water and cleansed the wound until at least the
stink from it had been washed away. Kyrgian was in a trance, his lips
never ceasing their intonations as Ondin sewed up the slashed
flesh.
Vaysh and Llembara staggered in and I looked helplessly at them. Part of
me felt dead. The rest wailed silent banshee cries at the world and the
barbaric hara who had attacked us, bringing us to our knees, and for
what? Surely it was bloodlust, nothing more. I loathed them with every
fibre of being, shaking with wrath even as Vaysh sank down next to me,
pulling me to his chest and rocking me as though I were a child.
"What did you do?" I asked once Monarch had been laid in a
bed, still unconscious.
"Grissecon," he said quietly, his long fingers cradling my
head. "We'd never tried anything that powerful before. Thank
God it worked."
Mutely I nodded, unable to formulate a sentence. Vaysh was still at my
side when Monarch died, on the cusp of a lilac dawn.
* * * * *
"Sage and guide, may your spirit rise on the winds, whisper in the
stars, lighten us in the dark places. In us, your memory will live
forever. Be at peace, Monarch Lunidas," Kyrgian intoned, his
melodious voice swallowed effortlessly by the hazy heat of noon. The
muggy, sweltering air draped heavily on us, the physical discomfort
adding to our emotional bruising. A simple ceremony was the most we had
to offer; with Iolethe's help, I'd found a way to make something
resembling incense. I swung a small bowl of it from a chain as had been
done for high services in the eucharists of my early human childhood,
censing the air above Monarch's grave with symbols of protection
Belvac suggested.
I hated the smell of our camp right then; I knew it would pass, and
doubtless the austere face of death would be no stranger to me in the
years to come. There was shock ringing in the air as clearly as the
tolls on the brass bell that hung in the kitchen, twenty-one peals for
the years on this earth our murdered clan head had lived. I felt the
wild animals of my conflicting emotions pulling and snarling, grazing on
my bones. I wanted to tell everyone that I was taking Monarch's
place as leader; I wanted to take Vaysh by the hand and run away to some
hidden land, never once looking back; I wanted to hunt down every
fucking Wraeththu who killed pointlessly like a human punk, to slice
figure eights into their abdomens and to watch their guts tumble onto
the earth like mutant slugs. I wanted to hold Jaffa to me and swear to
him that it was going to be all right, that he'd never again have to
kill another har in self-defence, that we were more enlightened than the
humans we'd once been
Of course, I did none of those things. I became as practical and
composed as I could, and was gratified when I saw that my actions
allowed other hara to mourn openly, or expel their rage, and to seek
solace in each other. I took comfort in having helped to bring order so
quickly to our chaos; my insightful efficiency and patience was
respected and valued. My harbrethren's ability to cope was a salve
to my spirit, still reeling from it all.
Opequon, Vaysh, Kyrgian, Belvac and I sat up that night in the library,
drinking vralsfire. It was a rather potent liquor Ondin had distilled
from the peaches found in orchards in the nearby valley.
"We'd known there would be changes soon," Kyrgian said
dully.
"Not like this," Belvac said, rocking on the back legs of his
chair, his crossed feet propped up on a desk. "I wouldn't want
foresight to see my own death."
"He certainly didn't see that," Kyrgian slurred, his face
drawn and haggard. "The air's no good here now. We should
move."
"I agree."
Vaysh slumped elegantly in his chair, his long legs spread wide, the
heels of his boots planted on the wooden floor. It was a sight that
normally would have inflamed my passion like a raging forest fire, but
the thought of aruna was far from my mind. "There's a stone
refuge on a mountain not far from here. There was no sign of human
inhabitants for miles around it, and the buildings themselves are
vacant. It would be easier to defend, and it has sacred ground. It's
haunted me in dreams since we passed through."
"A stone refuge?" I asked, knocking back my drink and pouring
another large splash. A fizz of memory crackled in my mind; chills of
premonition caused goosebumps to rise on my skin. "I think I know
exactly where you mean. But we've got to give it a new
name."
Opequon looked curiously at me, his green-striped black hair pulled into
a short ponytail at the base of his neck. "Did your clan come from
middle Megalithica? From your voices, I assumed you were from further
south."
I couldn't bear to say the name of the bombed-out wasteland of my
beloved childhood home. Yes, its human refinement had been mauled from
it by gangs of humans and then rampaging, untamed Wraeththu when I was
still rather young, but I'd seen pictures and been told of the jewel
it had been in history. It was so awkward, wanting to shed every
trapping of my humanity and yet being so close to it, part dispassionate
anthropologist and part regretful scribe of my own former race.
"We did," I said, and poured the rest of my vralsfire down my
throat. "I had family, uncles and a grandfather, who were scholars
at the refuge you passed through. I think it would be a safe place to
go. There's arable land around and plenty of it. Lots of woods, too.
I doubt there are any working generators, though. Electricity is a dream
of the past."
"We'll find other ways," Belvac promised.
"Tomorrow, then," Kyrgian sighed. "Tomorrow we'll
gather our things and move on. Ashmael, I think you're the har to
organise it."
"I will."
There was time for more remembrances, and talk of the future before we
all retired to our rooms. I went with Vaysh, to the former guesthouse.
That night we took aruna together, slow and with the promise of healing.
Away from everyone else, I watered his compassionate face with my
tears.
* * * * *
It was a few days' unhurried ride to the base of the plateau. This
part of Megalithica remained relatively unchanged and unmarred from the
cataclysmic events that had gone on around it. The low rollings of hills
and trees didn't harbour ghosts, though the oppressive heat was
wearing. There was a black ribbon of asphalt I knew led up the mountain,
but for our safety we took a route through neglected farms and
tree-covered countryside. Euclase and Llembara rode ahead, scouting for
humans and hara alike. I'd wanted to talk with Jaffa about his
experiences during the attack, but he was tight-lipped, sulky and
withdrawn. Wycker and Belvac stayed protectively by his side, and I
noticed Iolethe's light eyes returned to the young har time and
again, but Jaffa had no words of substance for any of us. On the evening
of our fifth day of travelling, after dinner Iolethe suggested to
Kyrgian that they go take a walk. Dark storm clouds hunkered over our
destination, and the electric tang of an intense thunderstorm permeated
the air. Opequon, Ondin and Wyngarr were tending to our horses, who
whinnied their unease as the churning clouds began to unleash their
rain, miles away.
It reflected my own turbulence; I was ready to see what the former
university looked like, ready to begin this new chapter in my harish
life.
"Kyrgian and Iolethe had best not wander too far," I said to
Vaysh as we erected our tent. "And I'd give my right hand for
some mosquito netting right now."
"They'll be fine," Vaysh reassured me, futilely waving a
pale arm at the swarm of insects that wouldn't leave us alone.
"Iolethe never does anything rash. I'm sick of bugs, and
summer. I always hated summer anyway." He looked up at the
tree-covered mountain, its top under assault from the rain. The leaves
on the trees around us were brown from lack of rain, looking as wilted
as I felt.
"Autumn will be here soon. I bet it'll be absolutely beautiful
once all the leaves change colour," I said. "We sure need the
rain, or the earth does," I thought out loud. "Don't know
if our tents are designed for the likes of the storm coming,
though."
"They'd better hold so I don't spend the night feeling like
a drowning rat," Vaysh said, wrinkling his nose in a way that made
me think inexplicably of a twitching rabbit. He had such an animated,
expressive face, once the mask of chilly haughtiness was dropped. I felt
that everyhar could see my inner feelings, too, but Euclase had informed
me more than once that this wasn't the case.
Vaysh tilted his head, his eyes raking over the structure, presumably
looking for flaws. He turned on me suddenly. "Do you know how to
reinforce it? Using some of the elemental force from the
earth?"
"Me?"
His grey eyes rolled heavenward. "Yes, you. I know you've been
studying, several of you. But you're not that far along in your
caste, are you?"
"No, but I've gotten to be pretty decent with a knife and a
gun, and that's what the Uigenna use as weapons," I snapped
defensively. "I could train our group into a small army if need be.
Probably should. But Kyrgian knows I can learn anything. We only have
— had — two Pyralists, though. Caste progression just
doesn't matter a whole lot if there's a bullet lodged in your
heart or a steel-toed boot is grinding your guts into the
ground."
It was only when I saw Vaysh's widened eyes take on a speculative,
knowing look that I realized how sore a spot he'd touched. I was
clenching my jaw, bristling like a cornered cat.
"That really wasn't meant to imply anything negative," he
said, cautiously snaking out a hand to place on my bicep. His thumb
swept back and forth a couple of times on the exposed, hardened muscle;
if it weren't for the mosquitoes I'd have been shirtless.
"It was just an observation. Not everybody's out to get you,
you know. You have some rare gifts, and I know that you know you
do."
With a slight squeeze he stepped back, playing with a long braid
he'd pulled over the front of his shoulder. It was ridiculous, but a
feeling of abandonment drifted over me at the loss of contact.
"My gifts aren't all in my strength, or my mind." I
wondered where this unexpected need for confession had come from.
"I'm not the most soume har around, but I do have a heart. I
can make room for someone else in it. I've loved, and do still. Even
if it's something we're supposed to have moved
beyond."
Noises of the others in the camp drifted in and out of my awareness; I
couldn't help but be semi-conscious of where everyone in our clan
was, or was supposed to be, even while bearing up under Vaysh's now
somewhat frosty scrutiny.
"Does this love dare speak its name?" Vaysh asked
imperiously.
Before I could answer and deal with any unnecessary jealousy, an
anguished cry of rage sounded from near the stream where we'd set up
our bivouac. It was followed by a flood of repetitive invectives ending
with another yell, cursing all of us.
"What the hell is Jaffa's problem?" I asked, stomping off
to remind the young har that we really didn't need to be
broadcasting our presence to every living creature in the woods.
"Ash, he's coping with his change."
Vaysh's pacifying tone didn't make me feel any better, and I
doubted it would do anything but piss off the young har to a higher
level of rage.
"We're all coping with a lot of baggage, but we're not all
telling the world to fuck off," I retorted, unsurprised when I saw
Wyngarr and Vox had beaten me to Jaffa's side.
Yes, but you're not dealing with a first crush, obsessing about
aruna, being uprooted from your home, all on top of a few days of high
excitement with new har, ending with your harbrethren being brutally
attacked. He killed for the first time just days ago, and we buried
Monarch, who was obviously like a father to him.
I chose to ignore the implied "you insensitive clod"
that followed his telepathic chastisement.
True. Where's Iolethe? He said he'd help Jaffa out.
Taking aruna with Kyrgian, I'm sure, Vaysh's mind-touch
stated matter-of-factly.
Oh. I felt sheepish at having not come to that conclusion myself.
Of course.
Jaffa's expression was stormy, his cheeks red and splotchy under the
constellations of freckles that adorned his whole body. Vox pulled a
bottle of white wine out of the stream where it had been chilling and
poured some in a tin cup.
"Getting him drunk will only make him miserable and hung
over!" Wyngarr said, exasperated.
"I won't get drunk, I just want to be able to sleep,"
Jaffa growled, scratching at his arms. Tension pulled at his limbs like
a puppeteer with a willful marionette. "Thanks."
He took the cup from Vox's hands, swallowing it all in several gulps
and then belching. "That's awful," he moaned,
covering his mouth and looking very young again. The fierceness had been
plucked from his face, the thorn pulled from a rose. Jaffa's
heavy-lidded eyes came to rest on me, then skimmed over to Vaysh. In the
background of the drama, Wyngarr made soothing noises and shot dagger
glances at Vox.
"Jaffa, I'm sorry you don't feel like yourself." I
squatted near to him and Wyngarr made a space for me to sit. Oddly
enough, Wyngarr looked more like kin than Jaffa's own brother did,
though Wyngarr's hair was more auburn and straight. Jaffa's was
a true orange copper that formed ringlets at the slightest
provocation.
"I feel like utter shit," he said vehemently. I did notice the
wispy smile tug at his mouth when he saw I would let him get away with
his swearing, at least for now.
"Iolethe says it's feybraiha and, thank the Aghama, it
doesn't last that long. I'm sure we should have some
ceremony— you're a celebrity, Jaffa. First in our clan to go
through it!"
"It's not exactly anything worth celebrating," he said,
scratching under his right armpit. "I'm always itchy, and these
damn mosquitoes are terrible, my skin's hot where the hair's
growing, and I can't believe
" his rasped voice trailed
off. Vox poured more wine into the cup and placed it gently in
Jaffa's hand, ignoring the disapproving rumble in Wyngarr's
throat. "I killed another har."
His pale hand trembled and just then a deafening crack of lightning
ripped at the sky. The white wine soaked Jaffa's shirt as the tin
cup went flying over his shoulder with his startled reflexes. A booming
roll of thunder pounded above us, though there was still no
rain.
"Quite a show," Vaysh said sardonically. He threw his braid
over his back and gazed up at the lightning as it cavorted, streaking
blinding white arrows across the churning sky. I could tell the rain
wouldn't arrive for a few minutes, perhaps a quarter hour. It seemed
prudent to make sure everyhar's tents were as waterproofed as
possible.
"It is worth celebrating," I heard Vaysh continue on behind
me. I turned around to see he and Wyngarr help Jaffa up from the ground.
He cursed his sodden shirt and fate in general. "You've
obviously been thinking about what's happening to you; you don't
need to be embarrassed. Aruna is the most natural thing in the world.
We'd become bitter, hollow creatures without it."
"Nothing against you, tiahaar," Jaffa said, fuming at the
world, his lips pursed and hands balled into fists, "but I really,
really don't want to talk about this. Not with you."
Vox's gaze lit to mine, his eyebrows raised. I just felt out of
place. I was no guide, and Jaffa hadn't been giving me any furtive
glances that I'd noticed. And notice I would have, I assumed—
he wasn't exactly a paragon of subtlety right now.
"It's okay, I understand," Vaysh said, raising his voice
to be heard above the wind. It had picked up, teasing groans and sighs
from the overhead tree limbs.
"I suggest we get back to our shelter," I said, unable to stop
myself from dropping a hand on Jaffa's shoulder and rubbing at the
bony line.
Discussions about who should explain the nuts and bolts of aruna as well
as its more esoteric and emotional qualities went on despite Jaffa's
wishes otherwise as we walked back to the center of camp. There a fire
still crackled, its heat unnecessary but it beckoned cheerily
nonetheless.
"Shut up about it!" Jaffa yelled, his face scarlet. "Just
leave me the hell alone! I'll take care of this on my own. Not until
we're at our new place, don't worry, even though I feel like
I'm going to crawl out of my skin," he said spitefully, glaring
at me.
"Do what you want!" I said, holding up my hands in surrender.
"I'm not your father. Don't hurt yourself, that's all I
ask." Why he'd turned on me I couldn't fathom. He was being
supremely irritating, even though I did feel sorry for him.
"Fine!" he snapped, his tone dripping with sarcasm and
frustration.
"Can't he just do this now? I know he's physically mature
enough," Wyngarr said, appealing to Vaysh, which only further
grated on me. I wasn't meant for this kind of domestic exchange, but
Jaffa held a special place in my heart due to his youth. "What does
the difference of a few days make?"
"What do you think?" Vaysh asked of Jaffa as the scent of rain
filled my nostrils.
"Nobody asked me, but I still think we should get ready for a
downpour," I said, looking pointedly at each of them. We'd
approached a pair sitting near the fire, talking in low voices; it was
Abelard and Belvac.
"I think you should all leave me the fuck alone! Except you!
You're who I want," Jaffa spluttered. He looked to be on the
verge of furious tears. I followed the arch of his trembling arm to see
he was pointing, inconceivably, at Abelard.
"You want me to do what?" he asked, obviously confused and a
bit taken aback at our group arrival and Jaffa's manners. Abelard
had seemed the most reticent of their group, dark and brooding in a way
that reminded me of Belvac. Those two had drawn closely together and got
on like a house on fire. They had a secretive, intense friendship
already. How could Jaffa, a blazing comet of good humour and precocious
intelligence, be drawn to Abelard?
"I'm going through feybraiha. I hate it," he moaned,
burying his face in his hands. Seconds later he stood up straight again,
looking wretched, as though about to martyr himself. "I just want
this to be over with. If you don't think you could stand being with
me, I understand. But if I get to choose, it's you I want to take
aruna with. Since I'm supposed to, and then it'll get everybody
off my back."
Everyone appeared surprised at Jaffa's poignant outburst, Belvac and
Abelard not the least. From the gauzy curtain of hurt on Belvac's
face, he'd evidently thought he might have been selected, not his
companion. Abelard slowly stood up, angular but fluid in his movements,
his soume side not particularly pronounced. His dark brown eyes shone
with delight, though when he glanced over at me, I saw trepidation and a
silent entreaty for approval. I nodded, not that I was Jaffa's
guardian, but I was closer to him than Kyrgian was. And Kyrgian had his
own agenda right now.
"How about you and I go to my tent with some wine, and let's
talk first," Abelard said, walking the few steps to take the bottle
from Vox's hands. "From there what we do is up to you. I'm
flattered that you want to share yourself with me."
That seemed to be the perfect response. Though the rain and thrashing
wind was almost upon us, the storm in Jaffa's expression had passed
and he beamed at the lanky har. "Sounds great," he enthused
before turning to grin widely at Vox. "Don't you and Polaris
wait up." Swinging the bottle of wine to one side and taking
Abelard's proffered hand in the other, Jaffa sauntered off to a tent
near the outskirts of the circle.
Heavy drops of rain began spattering the ground, forcing us all
hurriedly to take cover in our own tents. I've always loved
thunderstorms, but they make me sleepy. Being held in Vaysh's arms
on as flat and rock-free a surface we could find, I yawned, still
reveling in the novelty of feeling so protected and cherished by another
being.
"I hope Jaffa doesn't feel cheated out of a big party," I
said, nosing at the sandalwood scent of Vaysh's neck. Given how
violently Jaffa's moods were swinging, chances were he'd sulk if
we had one, and sulk if we didn't. Hopefully taking aruna with
Abelard would smooth out the edges and make him bearable again, even
endearing.
"Who's to stop us from having one once we're up on the
mountain and get settled in?" Vaysh asked reasonably. He combed his
fingers through my hair and I wished I could purr. I was so content, the
rain pounding on canvas above our heads, Ondin and Wycker on first
watch, my ouana-lim heavy but not demanding attention.
"Nobody. Abelard seemed like an odd choice, but what do I
know?"
"You know to follow your instincts," Vaysh murmured in my ear.
"It's served you well, and will him, too."
We lay together in a comfortable silence as the storm raged until I
heard Vaysh's quiet voice again.
"What was it like for you?"
"My inception?"
He nodded into my scalp. I spread out my palm over his hip, grounding
myself against his increasingly familiar body as I brought back the key
memories of that time.
"I was scared. Exhilarated. It was painful, and rebellion, and
seduction."
I leaned back and slowly angled my head so that we could share breath.
Like an unhurried bee, going from flower to flower, I gave him a memory
here, a remembrance there. My becoming Wraeththu had been an act of
anarchy, my perceptions and worldliness smashed by the reality of
writhing in terror and agony in my own filth for days before it was
over.
"Euclase was there?" he asked gently as I laid my head back
down on our makeshift pillow of blankets.
I nodded. He'd had an easier time of things. I was now certain that
this had been because his imagination soared to truths I couldn't
truly believe until I felt my own realities shift and mutate in my own
body. I'd had no regrets, but the blunt blade of transformation had
torn ragged holes in my spirit which took time to heal.
"What was his name?"
"Before?"
It was difficult to say; it seemed like a defamation, to evoke his human
name. "Eric."
I of course knew the next question before it was asked.
And you?
I buried my face into the soft skin of Vaysh's neck, pressed against
a masculine, adult jaw and chin that would never again need to know the
scrape of a razor. I was changed. My old self was gone forever, our
whole former race, doomed. We had moved on, and looking back made me
discomfited and melancholy.
Andrew.
* * * * *
We had our first newcomers well
before the first snow fell.
Autumn was a fiery glory; the trees were peacocks, waving their scarlet
and copper feathers under the shortening days. The woods displayed their
bold colours in a proud, decadent beauty, the sentinel forest marching
up and over the plateau and across the lands of Castlegar. I was undone
by the vibrant riot of our first autumn. At first there were only small
eruptions of colour, daubed here and there as though by a crazed
painter. All at once the woods were ablaze in russet and gold, touched
by the inflamed whispers of nature's seraphim.
There had been much to be done to prepare for the upcoming winter, but I
couldn't help from returning to the many viewing grounds around this
mountaintop paradise. There was one location in particular set at the
end of a thin asphalt ribbon, where the trees had been cleared to
provide an unhindered vista of the valley below. A relic of the
religious heritage of the university perched proudly on display, its
bold white cross easily visible from any approach on this side of the
mountain. I was of two minds about it: it did no harm, but we would be
making our own gods now, and this was our home. Ultimately my reason for
leaving it be versus its removal was due to practicality; we were sorely
lacking in cranes or wrecking balls. Any such heavy machinery that we
did find on the grounds was rusting away, already being reclaimed and
oxidized by nature's powerful elements.
The view from this particular scenic location, however, was second to
none, and I often found myself pulled to the spot as though by an
invisible hand. Our group of Wraeththu pioneers felt they had
rediscovered Paradise. Several enterprising humans had tended gardens in
the past that we were able to cultivate; evidently students had kept
horses as there were stables and countless acres for our horses to get
exercise; vineyards were on the other side of the mountain, but the
scholars on the campus had stashed away enough wine and liquor in their
abandoned homes for us easily to get through our first winter without
becoming vintners ourselves.
And the stone buildings— they were the soul of Castlegar, as
we'd come to name our new home. Some were relatively new but in an
old style, and others were genuinely old, perhaps older than a century.
A couple of hara did elect to move into actual houses that hadn't
yet fallen much into disrepair, but most of us settled into
barracks-like dormitories in the heart of what had been the campus. The
sandstone structures and spacious grounds beckoned our exploring: there
were winding staircases; a peaceful graveyard; squat, solitary huts that
still smelled faintly of beer and a lingering, heady tang of
testosterone. The campus was evocative of far older enclaves of
learning, and the whole mountain seemed to welcome us. We embraced the
protection of stone and trees with gratitude. One building held more
secrets than the rest. Inside it on the ground floor, some couches were
now home for mice and birds as several of the windows were broken or
missing. Even on approach to the formerly renovated but now-decrepit
dormitory, I felt goose bumps on my flesh; it was haunted by specters
and tormented spirits. What Kyrgian discovered through observation, I
confirmed by looking through books in a former inhabitant's private
library, full of histories of this place.
"It was a hospital, even back before the turn of the century. No
wonder," I said to him over coffee one morning. The day had
presented another endearing, capricious quality to Castlegar: we were
shrouded in fog. It seemed created for otherworldly phantasms to travel
in, a soupy, dense quiet that had crept over the mountain during the
night and showed no sign of going anywhere for quite a while.
"Many humans died there," Kyrgian noted, spreading raspberry
preserves on a piece of wheat toast. "But many were also born.
I'd let it be for now, we have plenty of houses and other residences
to choose from. I'm certain that other hara will find us. Maybe this
will become a school for our kind as it was for humankind for so many
generations."
"As long as it's not more warmongering tribes," I groused.
"I want us to be prepared. We should scout around all of the towns
within a three-day ride to retrieve any ammunition we can find. Better
to get what guns and bullets we can before nature, any rogue humans or
somehar else comes along to claim them."
"A prudent course of action," Kyrgian acknowledged through a
mouthful of toast. "But not today. I've never seen fog like
this. It's a natural phenomenon," he went on, intuiting my
question as to its possible malevolent origin.
"Good. Then I'll just go and take a wander around in it, see if
any of the legendary human ghosts written about in some of those
histories I've read want to show themselves."
Kyrgian looked at me as though I were a juvenile. "Be careful. And
don't forget that you and Belvac owe me your
afternoon."
"I haven't forgotten. I'll remind Belvac."
With an eye roll, Kyrgian nodded. "Please do. Oh, and would you ask
Vaysh to see me? I'll be back at my rooms in not too
long."
"Certainly."
I wasn't sure what those two were discussing, but it probably had to
do with training for our lowest caste hara. Or maybe it had to do with
persuading Vaysh to surrender more of the potent cinnamon tea he'd
found and hoarded somewhere. I stood back from the table, swallowing the
last of my lukewarm coffee before buttoning up my leather coat and
putting on gloves.
Outside of the stone and glass dining hall I paused, drinking in the
sight of such dense, milky mist as it shifted and folded in the air.
Pockets of visibility would appear and vanish again, shrouded in the
chilled, murky air. I couldn't help the cheeky grin as I made my way
down one of the sidewalks; this was marvellous. Even the sound of the
heels of my boots on the cracking cement was whisked away into the heavy
grey haze. Castlegar was full of surprises, this mountaintop cloaking of
impenetrable fog being a particularly memorable one to add to my mental
list. I walked down what had been the main paved road, out past a small
inn, ivy and shrubs having begun their inexorable annex of its walls.
Behind the inn was a wide, treeless space, the few sandy indentions
betraying its former function as a golf course. I'd fancied I'd
seen a plethora of angels or shape-shifters as I ambled along, but when
I passed the inn, my nerves went on true high alert. Sliding up against
a side wall, I felt at my hip and realised that while I had on my
holster, it was empty. I swore under my breath before realising I
hadn't heard any actual noise to indicate that anything was amiss.
The fog was so thick that nothing but stealth was possible. Still, I
walked near the treeline, heading back alongside a gravel road toward an
overgrown sports field and mouldering tennis courts.
"We're not armed! Put down your guns and let's be civilised
about this!"
It was Euclase.
"You're freaks! Killers! We'll kill you first!" an
enraged, triumphant young voice shouted.
My heart leapt into my throat as I began running toward whomever it was
threatening him. The blood pounded in my ears as I now cursed the soupy
air, much less my absent gun.
What's going on? I mind-called to him.
Young humans. Big guns. I'm a fucking idiot, he replied
tersely. Zain's here, too. But Opequon and Ondin are coming up
behind them. I just hope—
There was a startled, confused shout, and an all-too-distinctive crack
of a gun firing. I raced toward the sound, heedless of the
consequences.
EUCLASE! I yelled into his mind.
"I'm fine! Zain's been shot," he shouted angrily as
the indistinct forms I was running to became corporeal realities. The
scuffle was over, Zain the casualty. He moaned and spouted a river of
curses, his hands protectively covering his knee. Ondin and Opequon held
their guns steady at the back of the two humans' skulls. I strode
toward the group, shocked that this was our first run-in, and pissed off
that we'd been taken unawares.
"Somebody fill me in. NOW," I barked even as I sent a message
to Vaysh: Come to the old sports field behind the inn. On a horse.
Zain's been shot in the leg.
What?! Vaysh's immediate response was full of fear and
barely-controlled fury.
I don't know details. I will when you get here. Hurry.
It took only a few minutes for Euclase to tell me what had happened.
They'd just been out for a walk, equally intrigued by this unique
weather phenomenon, found they couldn't keep their passions in check
and were sharing breath when the two humans had startled them.
Thankfully Ondin and Opequon had been on their way back from some
mind-body exercises Opequon was providing instruction in, and Euclase
had sent a silent mind-call warning to Ondin. They'd had sense to be
armed and stealthfully crept up on the adolescents but in doing so, had
scared one of them who'd accidentally shot Zain in the knee.
"Are there more of you?" I asked one of the youths whose
expression of defiance was tempered by encroaching fear as more of us
showed up.
"No," he snarled. "But we'll get away, just like last
time."
"You know what we are, then?"
"You're murderers. The other ones killed everybody except the
guys our age, and fuck only knows what happened to them. Probably made
into sex slaves, or something," he said, disgust saturated in the
words.
"What're you going to do to us?" his compatriot asked, his
arms hugging himself tightly around his ribs.
Ondin had taken the liberty of disarming them and I'd just noticed
how underfed they were. I was about to ask their names when I heard a
horse galloping toward us.
"Got here as quickly as I could," Vaysh said tersely,
dismounting from Arches and giving the youths a hasty glance before
striding over to Zain. He held his hands over Zain's knee, closing
his eyes and casting some kind of healing energy into him as I focussed
my attentions back on the two humans.
"What are your names?" I asked. When they didn't answer
immediately, I said, "Opequon, Ondin, you can give them a little
breathing space. They're not going anywhere. Vaysh, you stay here,
okay? Let Opequon take Zain back to his room."
Ondin gave me a dark look, but then shrugged. He kept one of their own
rifles aimed unwaveringly at them, while Opequon went over to assist in
getting Zain up and on the horse.
"I'm not telling you anything, you fucked up freak," the
more aggressive one growled. "Neither is he."
"We're not going to be able to get out of this!" the
second one said to his friend, his anxiety flowing off of him in
waves.
Now I was amused, watching them bicker at each other. Neither was
shockingly handsome, but they were reasonably attractive in a rustic,
unrefined way. I decided to put them out of their misery of unknowing,
creating my plan as I spoke it aloud.
"You're going to be incepted, be made like us. There's no
choice, really," I said, nodding my head to Vaysh. He raised his
eyebrows and came over to my side. Ondin made a menacing sound at the
taller of the two adolescents as he began looking quickly around, as
though to escape.
"I'd rather die than be one of your perverted fuck toys,"
he said, his voice low in his throat and hands balled into fists. The
other boy just stared, his green eyes wide as saucers as his chest
quickly rose and fell.
"I hate to disappoint," I said dryly, "but from what I
know of the sexual practices of the rest of our clan, we're pretty
pedestrian, and no-one is forced to do anything exotic."
"Then why are you forcing us?" the green-eyed youth asked with
a trembling voice.
His name is Jared, Vaysh said to me in my mind. Where do you
want to do the inceptions? Is it your intent for us to do this
together?
Yes. You can have the angry one. Hopefully some of your calming
influence will work on him.
Calming influence? Vaysh said, sounding shocked.
I chuckled softly so only Vaysh heard me before answering the boy.
"Because, Jared, we're the future. There is no choice. And
besides, as Wraeththu we live far longer than humans, we heal much more
quickly, and we have mind skills you could only dream of."
"You know my name," he said in a rasped whisper.
"Shut the fuck up!" the other one yelled at him.
"I think it's high time you learned some manners," Vaysh
said coldly, walking the few steps over and holding his chin in a
viselike grip. "You don't talk to loyal friends like that,
Paul," he said, the words measured and full of disdain.
Paul made a rumbling growl and spat on him. Vaysh let go of his face,
and boxed him soundly across the jaw with such force and speed that he
fell backwards, barely missing Ondin and Euclase, who'd ventured
over to watch the circus. I gawped at the adolescent knocked to the
ground now rubbing at his face, as did Jared and Ondin.
Vaysh made a contented, purring sound, flexing his hand a couple of
times and then turned to me. A mordant smile settled on his lips.
"Let's do this now," he suggested.
I nodded. "No time like the present. Jared, you're with
me." I pulled him to me, holding his arm close to my side.
"Get up," Vaysh hissed at Paul, not offering to help him
stand. He did, shrugging off Vaysh's hand before Vaysh tugged him
close with a strength that surprised me. "You'll behave, Paul,
or I'll break every one of your toes and make you walk back. Am I
making myself clear?"
Paul grunted, presumably in the affirmative.
"I'd like for us to get along," Vaysh said with slightly
less acid in his tone. "You'll be a strong member of our clan,
once you get that prideful pole out of your ass."
"Keep an eye on him," I said under my breath to Euclase once
Vaysh and a shuffling Paul had passed them. Ondin's gun was still
pointed at Paul, and I couldn't help but be grateful. I expected him
to try and bolt, to underestimate Vaysh, just as I had done.
Euclase flanked Jared, talking to me just over Jared's head.
"Vaysh has quite a tongue on him!" he marvelled as we walked
through the thick fog back to the heart of Castlegar.
"You have no idea," I drawled.
He laughed at the implication. At my side, Jared made barely audible
whimpers of distress. I was trying to be objective— I really did
feel we were doing these two a favour, giving them the gift of hardom.
It was that or kill them outright, which would have been a waste. There
was indeed a lot of spirit in Paul; Jared, I suspected would come around
far more quickly. While Euclase and I chatted in wonderment about the
heavy mist, which appeared in no hurry to burn off, Vaysh and I
communicated telepathically.
Before an hour had passed, he and I were on our own with the two humans
and had taken them to one of the abandoned houses deep in the woods out
near my favourite viewing spot. By now they both looked scared to death,
and as we approached the house, Paul gurgled, "Gonna be sick."
He began retching into the red shrubs proudly flanking the door, which
hung slightly askew on its hinges.
"You'll be fine," Vaysh said airily before kicking open
the door.
I had to chew the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing, though poor
Jared blanched and then turned a sickly shade of green himself. I'd
been discovering all sorts of things about Vaysh over the past couple of
months, but this wicked, showy side was totally new. I knew it was
spiteful actions to retaliate for being held in such contempt, but I was
impressed nonetheless. We'd stopped by our room to get a couple of
flasks of water, blankets, and some wine. I'd asked Euclase to send
Vox and Polaris over after a time, but the basics were all we needed for
now. Vaysh led the way to what had been a sitting room with a working
fireplace. I'd also retrieved my pistol and kept it trained on Paul
while Vaysh got a fire going. I had butterflies in my stomach; I'd
never incepted anyone before. It was a bit nerve-wracking, with all of
the intimate flutterings of having sex for the first time.
Vaysh must've tapped somewhat into my thoughts as he turned and
smiled warmly at me, the look in his eyes anything but innocent. He
quickly became serious, however. Paul and Jared sat on a couch whose
stuffing had burst out of one side of a cushion, making a fibrous
waterfall to the floor. Terror was etched on their faces now, and I felt
the need to reassure them.
"This isn't death. We're not going to kill you," I
said as tenderly as I could while still aiming the gun at them.
"Ashmael, I think you can put the weapon away," Vaysh said,
shrugging off his coat. He was dressed as he so usually was that winter;
leather trousers, a tight wool sweater, cordovan cowboy boots. My libido
perked up at the sight, but I wasn't there to perform that
particular ritual with him right now. He got one of the bottles of wine,
rummaged around in our rucksack for a corkscrew, and freed the cork.
After pouring wine into tin cups, he handed one apiece to the youths.
Jared gulped his down, but the nauseous look on his face shortly
thereafter prompted me to give him a water flask. Paul drank his more
slowly as the room heated up thanks to the fire. I found a pack of
cigarettes and lit one, offering the pack to the innocents on the couch.
Paul pulled one out and lit it, now back to glaring at me.
"How old are you?" I asked, pulling over a chair and making
sure it wasn't going to collapse as soon as I sat down in
it.
"Does it matter?" Paul said, his expression mutinous.
"No. Your attitude doesn't, either," Vaysh said, also
getting a chair and taking a seat. He crossed one foot on top of his
knee, the very picture of a har at ease with himself. "Oh. I almost
forgot."
Jared couldn't keep his huge, fear-filled eyes off of him as Vaysh
leaned over, searching again through the rucksack and pulling out a
finely decorated leather sheath and knife it protected.
"Oh God," Jared said, hiccupping at the same moment.
I wasn't sure why I had no qualms making these two into hara, though
obviously they wanted nothing to do with us. I guess I still firmly
believed it was a gift, and that they'd come around. All they could
think to do was feast on their own fear, and yet, we were giving them as
close to immortality as we could.
"I'm fifteen," Paul said, narrowing his eyes at the knife,
still in its scabbard. "Jared's the same."
"Am not! I've been sixteen for two months, not that it was
worth celebrating," Jared babbled. Wild-eyed, he looked from the
knife which Vaysh smoothly took out from its holder, and up to
Vaysh's face, his voice pleading as he said, "Will age make it
hurt less?"
"There's not that much pain. C'mon, let's get this
done, then I'll ask Vox and Polaris to come and keep vigil during
their althaia," I said to Vaysh, who glanced speculatively at me
before turning his attentions back to the two youths. "More
wine?"
Jared stood up on trembling legs and shuffled over to him before
collapsing to a heap at Vaysh's feet, wiping under his nose as he
sniffled and made syrupy coughing sounds.
"What we're giving you is a gift," I said gently, raising
Jared back up from the floor. I'd watch out for Paul, I
warned Vaysh in mind-touch.
Oh, I will.
In the end, it wasn't as dramatic as I'd expected. I'd never
incepted anyone before, but drew on my own experience to cut a gash in
Jared's arm. He gasped at the shock of it. I slit a line down my own
forearm until the blood spilled, the same colour as Jared's, but oh,
so different. He'd given up the fight a while ago and sat meekly as
I pressed our arms together, willing my blood to flow into his body.
After a few minutes I figured it was enough and we stepped
apart.
Shell-shocked, Jared stared down at his arm, smeared with sticky blood,
already congealing. "That's it?" he asked harshly.
"Well, the whole transformation takes a few days. They'll be
rough, sorry to say. But Polaris and Vox will be here. They'll look
after you, and then once you're successfully changed, there'll
be one last ritual."
Paul bristled with defiance. He'd continued to smoke, watching the
proceedings until I'd wiped off the blade and handed the knife back
to Vaysh.
"Well? Hurry up," Paul demanded, shoving his shirtsleeve to
the elbow and wiping at the beads of sweat on his upper lip. A few
coppery hints of beard stubble glinted on his jaw, and all of a sudden
he seemed heartbreakingly naïve.
"Ah, your common sense has returned. Delightful," Vaysh said,
standing up to his full height. He was a couple of inches shorter than I
was, but he was impressive enough as he drew next to Paul.
"In blood, in fire, into forever," Vaysh breathed quietly,
making twin crimson slashes on their arms and pressing together the open
wounds. Paul's lips were a tight, white line. He'd not made a
noise, only watched and breathed quickly, his nostrils flaring when the
knife cut into his skin.
It was so calm and quiet, the fog drifting outside and muffling other
sounds as though the whole mountain were draped in a diaphanous blanket.
Jared had backed up against the couch, hugging his knees to his chest.
Paul stood, staring at his arm for a time before looking over at me. His
eyes were half closed, a profound weariness harboured in their hazel
depths.
"Could I get another cigarette?" he asked. I handed him one
and he leaned over so I could light it. I helped myself to another and
gestured to Vaysh with the pack. He demurred, helping himself to a swig
directly from the wine bottle.
I laughed at him, faintly shocked.
"What?" he said with a small shrug. "We're all family
now. I'd rather drink from the bottle than these ridiculous camping
tins."
It all seemed so anti-climactic, or perhaps I was becoming used to
changes like this occurring so suddenly. I did find that I was curious
about our new to-be brothers— or sons, almost, as we'd made
them, though Vaysh and I weren't that far apart from them in
chronological age. Then again, none of us were.
"So. Tell me about yourself," I said cajolingly to Jared.
Amazingly enough, he stumbled through a brief history of his life over
the next half hour or so, and Paul followed suit.
I'll ask Kyrgian to send the Aralids, Vaysh suggested after
an hour began to creep into two. We both remembered our own experiences,
and I wanted Jared and Paul's althaia to be as comfortable as
possible.
"Two har will take care of you for the next few days," I said,
squatting by Jared and running my hand through his stringy hair. They
both needed a bath in the worst way, but that could all be done properly
once their change was complete.
"You're leaving?" he asked dully. "Who'll protect
us?"
"Vox and Polaris will be here with you. At times you may feel like
there's a war going on in your body. Because there will be. But
you're both strong-spirited. You'll make it, and there's a
definite reward at the end."
"Reward?" Paul sneered. "Probably a gang-bang. I've
heard about what you get up to. You're all deviants."
Vaysh was almost shaking, trying to keep his temper in check. "You
have no idea how much I want to string you up by the balls right
now," he said menacingly.
"So do it," Paul said, his upper lip curling.
"No, because somehar will have to take aruna with you and for
aesthetic purposes, I want you to be unscarred, you and those jewels of
yours."
The sound of two horses approaching cut through the tension and broke
their standoff. As Vox and Polaris began to settle in, I introduced them
to their two charges. I didn't envy any of them, but it had to be
done, and the memory of the moments of agony would fade in time.
"Thank you," I said to Vox, patting him on the back as Vaysh
and I left. I glanced over my shoulder to see Jared still huddled on the
floor, and Paul standing at the fire, looking smug.
I ventured out only once during the following few days; their screams
and moaning were more than I wanted to know about. I'd been elected
to get Paul started on his new path; Vaysh and I had discussed it in the
comfort of our own bed, sated in post-aruna lassitude.
"You should be with Paul," he said, running his nose along my
jaw.
"We could all parade in front of them, let them decide for
themselves who they want to do the deflowering," I joked.
"Do be serious. You'll remember that a few hara are only just
on speaking terms with you again."
"We can't afford to be principled like that," I insisted,
recalling some of the reproachful thrashing I'd received once the
news got out. "It was us, or the Uigenna, eventually, or they
would've found some other humans and they'd have attacked.
We'd have had to kill them. No, there wasn't a choice. Llembara
and Belvac can climb down out of their lofty towers. The world's not
safe for us, not yet."
Vaysh's long fingers drew fanciful, slow patterns on my abdomen and
I tightened my arm across his ribcage. "You don't sound like
the worldly scholar you used to," he said thoughtfully, his fingers
trailing down to the shadowy, heated juncture where thigh and groin
met.
"I think I have a different calling now. I like being a protector,
making sure we can take care of and defend ourselves. Especially
you." I pulled him impossibly close, nosing at his temple,
breathing in his woodsy scent and painting the skin with dry kisses.
"Not that you need me. You'd kick the ass of anyone who tried
to attack you."
He snickered, the husky tenor sending a pleasant coil of lust from my
ouana-lim slithering all the way down to my toes. "I'm no
damsel in distress," he said, inching down to take one of the
hardened nubs on my chest between his teeth. He tugged gently until I
moaned at the exquisite pain of it.
"No," I rasped. "You can watch my back any
day."
His hot tongue licked a stripe to the hollow of my neck. "I do
exactly that, my dear Ashmael. I'm your paladin."
That thought made me smile; of Vaysh as my knight in shining armour, his
now-red hair fluttering in the breeze. I still wasn't entirely sure
why he'd felt compelled to change his hair colour. He'd said
something about truly becoming himself, embracing his harish destiny,
and other commentary that I'd decided to tune out after a while. It
did suit him, his hair flowing down his back like crimson, silken
ribbons.
"So, paladin," I said raggedly as his nimble fingers stroked
my passionate fires back to life, "do you have any particular noble
cause of mine to champion?"
"Nothing noble," he purred. "Only my pursuit of your
utter sexual conquest."
"Shouldn't I call you a conquistador, then?"
His nonverbal rebuttal lasted well into the night.
* * * *
*
Paul's change took more out of him than Jared; given his
anger and perhaps false bravado, he wasn't able to stand on his own
or clean himself for several days once his althaia had run its course.
Jared had already taken a harish name, Gladwyne, and begun learning of
his new race (and the delights to be found in his newly-modified body)
with Wycker. Jaffa also spent a lot of time with him, as they were
closest in age. And Jaffa was drawn to novelty, as a newly incepted har
certainly was. Maybe Gladwyne's pull to Wycker had brought Jaffa
back in harmony with his brother. Wycker and Jaffa were enough alike to
be thick as thieves, especially in times of danger. Not infrequently,
however, they sniped and were at each other's throats.
Apparently I'd made an impression on Paul as he did ask for me to
come and complete the pact he'd been forced to sign with Wraeththu.
Polaris had sidled over to me during dinner, squeezing Vaysh over on the
bench so he could speak low in my ear. I'd felt Paul's eyes on
me through the meal, his first with us as a group. His gaze had felt
like burning coals, stirring embers of intrigue in my loins.
"Paul's well enough now, and his body's going berserk. You
remember what it's like," Polaris said softly, though doubtless
everyhar at the table knew why he'd undertaken his mission to talk
to me. We lived rather in a communal fishbowl, none of us taking
residence too far away from the centre structures of Castlegar. There
were also no secrets, and relatively little privacy, which was beginning
to gnaw at me.
"I didn't have the best first aruna experience," I said
candidly, using my dinner roll to sop of the last of a tasty venison
stew Vox and Jaffa had created. "More along the 'wham, bam,
thank you ma'am' variety. I'll make sure Paul's is more
memorable. In a good way," I felt the need to clarify.
"Of course," Polaris said, the words dripping with innuendo
before his face took on a more sombre expression. "You will treat
him well? I've become quite fond of him. And he's a stunning
har. Who'd've thought under all that vitriol and filthy mouth
would be such raw beauty?"
Vaysh turned and gave the new har a look under which anyone else, even
myself, would have withered and turned to a pile of ash. Paul took a
long drink of wine but held Vaysh's gaze, challenging him
unflinchingly. Though I didn't let it show, my soume aspect kicked
into high gear for a moment— I swooned at the ferocity etched in
Paul's face.
"Vaysh incepted him," I said, stabbing at some chunks of
potato still in my bowl. "Are you sure he doesn't want him? You
have my word Paul won't be disappointed."
Vaysh growled low in his throat, then composed himself as though this
were perfectly normal dinner conversation.
"I might get carried away with one that feisty," he said,
angling his head to speak to us in conspiratorial tones. It also allowed
him to show off the bruised blossoms of my enthusiastic kisses on his
neck from the night before. "He should only be broken in, not
broken, full stop."
"Enough," I said, my brow furrowing even though I knew, or
really hoped, it was all in jest.
Polaris clearly reveled in our banter; a born gossip, thankfully his
fists were as fast and lethal as his tongue. "He's been staying
with us, but Vox got him set up in his own room. On the second
floor."
I nodded. They lived in a large residence in the heart of the grounds, a
home the size of an inn and structurally sound. Anything of value had
been stolen ages ago, and there were shadowy marks on the walls where
pictures had hung for a few decades according to the histories I'd
read.
"I could keep you company, Vaysh," Polaris offered, genuine
warmth in his voice. "I just happen to have an unopened bottle of
bourbon that I found during my last scouting mission. That and some
cards and my charming self? You'd be a fool to say no."
My heart swelled at his hopeful earnestness. Our two groups had merged
near-seamlessly once we'd settled on the mountain, and everybody
adored Vaysh in their own way.
"Bourbon?" Vaysh's head snapped to Polaris, eyes
twinkling. "You're a rogue for not telling me until now. Come
to our room later. The door will be open." A sly smile slid onto
his lips.
"I guess I'll be going," I said to nohar in particular,
and there was no answer. I did feel the scrutiny of several pair of eyes
as I left the dining hall and found that I stood up straighter under
their pressure. Back in the suite of rooms I shared with Vaysh, I took
my time engaging in some perfunctory primping; knowing Vox and Jaffa,
who'd been close as shadows to Paul during the meal, they'd try
and turn him into some prettified manwoman. I suspected that at first,
until he learned to understand his feminine aspects, Paul would shun his
less familiar side. I'd be the first to teach him, through lessons
of transcendent pleasure
— I hoped! — to welcome and embrace that unknown, secretive
and strong part of himself. Soume. To be honest, it still intimidated
and perplexed me at times.
It was bracingly cold; I was glad I didn't have to walk far to get
to the building I thought of as 'the chancellery,' as the
chancellors of the school had lived there in the past. My pulse
quickened once I was inside and could take off my gloves, warming my
hands over a merry fire down in the main foyer. Somehar had also
thoughtfully placed a decanter of some liquor on a side table, though I
wasn't sure what it was. It seemed like a mix of vralsfire infused
with cinnamon, and I poured two glasses, taking them upstairs.
Paul's room wasn't hard to find, a band of light cheerily
escaping into the corridor and beckoning me in to behold the treasure
hidden within. Since my hands were full, I nudged open the door and
found myself engulfed in the scent of spruce and sandalwood. Paul was
pacing, but stopped when he heard me enter. I placed the glasses on a
dresser and shut the door behind me, leaning on it for stability.
Whatever Jaffa and Vox had done to him was subtle, bringing out the
stark beauty that had been formerly hidden under his arrogant faade. I
couldn't help but stare, devouring him with my gaze, suddenly
irritated when a feeling of guilt flitted in my chest. Taking aruna
after inception was a necessary act, and besides— it was integral
to our being, like eating or breathing. Jealousy and the idea of
possession was a human trait. Though I strove to cast such things off,
back then, they continued to mark me like the whorls on my
fingers.
"What are you thinking?" he asked hesitantly, striding over to
pick up one of the glasses of amber liquid. "One of these is for
me, right?"
"Yes, sorry."
I didn't know if my apology was for not offering it to him, or for
my regressive thoughts. "I was thinking about how attractive you
are."
This was no fiction. His hair was a rich chestnut, wavy and hanging
around his face. His hazel eyes as he evaluated me, tended toward a
tawny gold, though I well imagined they would seem to change colour
depending on the light or his mood. Paul's face transformed at my
words; timidity and uncertainty fled, replaced by a sultry
stare.
"So you don't mind, then?"
He drank the entirety of his liqueur and ran the back of his hand
against his lips. It was such an unassuming gesture, I felt my reserve
give way. His lips weren't particularly lush; in truth, his more
soume aspects were elusive.
"No. I hope I don't disappoint," I said, putting down my
glass to walk over to him. I rested one hand at the base of his spine,
the other cradling the back of his head.
He made a dismissive sound.
"Impossible."
Paul moved against me, wrapping his arm about my waist, swaying his hips
slightly. I felt a noticeable hardness pressing into my thigh. This was
going to be interesting.
"Breathe into me," he commanded softly. "Don't hold
back tonight, not with anything." His gaze was molten, ferocity
gleaming in his eyes.
"You seem to have taken this well," I said, my lips hovering
over his as he let out hot puffs of air. "Not going to surprise me
by kneeing me in the balls and running off, are you?"
Paul leaned back just a bit, licking at the corner of his lips where a
sticky moisture from the drink still remained. Desire and physical want
radiated from him. I knew that feeling, of being parched and needy,
desperate for the renewal only another har's touch could
bring.
"No." A sheepish look crossed his face. "I'm glad I
still have my own balls, to be honest. You were a damn bastard, you
know," he said, beginning to grind against me with more intention.
"You didn't say a word about the fact that all of our changes
would be sexual."
"Because they're not!" I insisted, leaning in to share
breath with him, but he evaded my lips to get out another
confession.
"I've had my hand in my pants. A lot. The new parts— they
kind of creep me out, so I need you to make it right. I know you can,
that's why I picked you. You're strong and you act like a man.
You seem safe to me."
"Let's go lie down on your bed," I said and Paul nodded.
My ouana-lim was beginning to press insistently against my own trousers,
but I felt I owed him a short explanation and clarification before I
ravaged him. No doubt he'd heard plenty from everyhar else, but I
was with him now.
I took the liberty of tossing another couple of logs on the fire before
joining him. I also took off my sweater, shirt and boots, and forced him
to keep my gaze while with unhurried hands, I unbuttoned his shirt. Skin
on skin was sublime. It took all of my willpower not to shove down our
trousers and swallow his stiff length and make him writhe in pleasure. A
quick — very quick — overview of being a hermaphrodite, and
then I would tease to life the pleasures inside of him he formerly never
could have imagined.
"Like all hara, I'm male and female, though I know I don't
express my feminine as blatantly as some. Having both genders is our
gift, one of them," I said, kneading at the narrow flesh of his
backside. Paul and Gladwyne both could stand to put meat on their newly
harish bones.
"I know. I just didn't
" his voice trailed off, and
he buried his face in my neck. "I've been stuck in my head,
analysing things, and feeling myself up. I'm tired of both," he
said impatiently, pressing faint, chaste kisses on my skin.
I felt another embarrassing swoon coming on.
"Share breath with me," Paul said, his voice raspy, all but
begging. "I'm ready to really be one of you."
"You already are."
Deep and expansive, we shared breath, images and rising winds of desire
flowing back and forth. Our tongues danced and teased; I savoured
sparkling summer starlight and the flavour of tart apples, Paul's
warm taste. When his fingers became grasping talons, I broke away and we
finished undressing. He'd been bountifully endowed in the ouana-lim
realm, and felt my body warring with its two polarities. I had
to penetrate him, that was the way our bodies shuddered and threw off
the last vestige of being human. We might contain both sexes, but right
then I wanted nothing more than us both to be ouana, to cross swords and
spill our delights on each other. What if that only made his body more
crazed?
"Ashmael," Paul said, his voice demanding. He turned so he lay
on his back, his kiss-swollen lips parted, eyes heavy-lidded as
they'd been the afternoon Vaysh had incepted him. He tugged me on
top of him, pulling me down and intermingling our hands in a tight grip.
Velvet over steel, soft petals opened as we rubbed together, slick with
opalescent offerings. I sighed and growled, rutting against him, not
heeding how thin and wiry he was. My own passions had become like a wild
horse, bucking and running amok. This wasn't for me, however, the
focus was on Paul. I eased out of his grip, mapping the cartography of
his bony torso with kisses.
He groaned and uttered other, less-defined noises, sounding like a
wounded creature. I pushed him up the bed and lay on my stomach,
ignoring for now the shimmering pearl of his ouana-lim and instead
trying something whose inspiration had come just moments before: I
licked and drank, teasing forth the honey-lemon nectar from his
soume-lam. Paul's moans softened to surprised gasps and trills of
pleasure. When my tongue and jaw began to ache, I sat back and noticed
his body had responded to my ministrations.
Taking aruna with Paul that first time, I was a long spade, digging
deeply into warm, loamy earth. He kept his eyes open, unable or
unwilling not to keep my expressions in his sights. With each thrust I
planted my own strength and hope for harakind into him; he seemed like
the embodiment of a comet, a constellation of light fallen to
earth.
He chanted a steady stream of monosyllabic profanity as our energies
neared completion. "Don't hold back," I panted, tossing
back his earlier comment as I sensed the interweaving of our
release.
With him, our energies were tightly wound, like a compressed double
helix that spun explosively apart as he shouted into the room. Lights
danced behind my eyes as the last of our exultant energies flew far off
out into the fathomless universe. Eventually the subtle noises of the
room faded back into my consciousness and we uncoupled. I lay back down
at Paul's side where he looked at me, his cheeks flushed and his
eyes full of wonderment. Long, companionable moments went by.
Licking at his dry lips, eventually he said in a hoarse voice, "You
didn't say anything about that, either."
"Did so. I said there was a reward, didn't I?"
His attempt at a disdainful look largely failed. "Reward
doesn't cover how amazing that felt."
I smiled and began to hold him to me but he made an embarrassed noise.
"Um, think I should go to the bathroom or something. I'm
well
leaking."
I cringed inwardly for him, but gave him a reassuring smile. He returned
minutes later and at last I was able to feel his warm body splayed next
to mine again. We spoke for a while before the warmth and exertion
caught up to me and I started to drift off.
"I know my name," he said thoughtfully, and I opened my
eyes.
"Oh?"
"Yeah, but I'm not telling until the morning."
"Fair enough. Now rest up a bit, because there's more to this
experience. The night is quite young," I said, attempting a feral
smile.
Later, in the heart of the night, I became soume for him, and was
unsurprised at his ferocity. Were I not as well muscled as I was, no
doubt I'd have returned to Vaysh with bruises on my shoulders from
where Paul had gripped me. As it was, we rejoined our group at lunch the
next day to catcalls and leering comments made in jest. I shrugged them
off, casting my gaze around for Vaysh, but he wasn't there. Disquiet
rumbled in my chest, but I forced myself to ignore it, instead acting
like the leader I was being groomed to be.
"Fellow companions of Castlegar," I announced, "I present
to you Parallax, our newest har. Proper celebrations and caste
ascensions will be held at the feast of the solstice, twelve days from
now."
Jaffa and Vox waved Parallax over, and after a longing, heated gaze up
into my eyes, he walked over and joined them. I sat near Euclase and
Kyrgian, who was, as usual, engrossed in a conversation with
Iolethe.
"So!" Euclase said, waggling his eyebrows.
"Oh, give it a rest," I muttered gamely, reaching past him for
a platter with smoked meats. "I know you have more interesting
things to set your mind on than details of my experiences last
night."
"Well, of course," he said, pouring me a glass of
barely-fermented apple cider. "We need to talk about this party
coming up. And besides, you and I were no strangers to aruna. I'm
sure he'll treasure those memories for years to come."
I snorted. "I just do what comes naturally. Now have you gone
through and catalogued our stores like I asked?"
"Yes, commandant," he said, a hint of sarcasm in his
voice.
He'd taken to calling me that since we'd settled in up on the
mountain. I found I didn't mind, even if he seemed a bit rankled or
surprised by my behaviour. I saw it as common sense; winter had
tentatively blustered in and out but would entrench itself for the
season very soon and we needed to know what provisions we had. Plus,
I'd been talking with Kyrgian, Iolethe and Vaysh, and we all assumed
that other hara would find us, probably sooner than we expected. The
likelihood of our stronghold becoming an outpost or even a small town
wasn't at all improbable, especially if the Uigenna kept terrorising
smaller clans. Just as Vaysh and his band had been drawn to us, surely
others would do the same, pulled to our mountain haven by some harish
instinct.
"Thank you," I said a bit curtly. "Where's
Vaysh?"
Euclase shrugged, cutting a wedge of sharp cheese into smaller blocks.
"Out taking a walk, maybe. Or sulking. Hard to say."
His challenging gaze flickered over to me, but I didn't rise to the
bait. Instead, I made a noncommittal sound and got back to the meal at
hand. I was famished; Parallax's former guardians had kindly left us
a carafe of coffee and some sweet bread in the morning, but I'd been
awake and energetically occupied most of the night.
After bundling up, I journeyed out to the stables and went for a ride
around the perimeter trail I'd discovered. Willow seemed happy to be
out for a long ride, and I treated her to a thorough rubdown and extra
care once we returned at dusk. I was so absorbed in the tactile
enjoyment of brushing her coat, humming to myself, that I started,
turning quickly and brandishing the mitt I'd been using when I
smelled cigarette smoke. It was Vaysh. The fact that he was smoking
wasn't a good portend, as he didn't do it very often, usually
only when he was in a particularly foul mood. He leaned against a nearby
stall, silent and lovely, his expression inscrutable.
I looked at him, and I slowly relaxed after the burst of adrenaline of
being caught by surprise. He was almost painful to gaze upon, his beauty
and inner power pulsing around him like violet flames. Neither of us
spoke; some primal magnetism hung in the fragrant air, and I felt both
the inexorable attraction as well as a self-preserving caution to pull
away. My horse whinnied softly; I felt myself pierced by a dart of
self-knowledge. Vaysh was no paragon of hardom, but when it came to him,
I could no longer deny that every cell in my body, the very marrow of my
soul, rang with the forbidden word: mine.
Vaysh continued to appraise me before he strode over, dressed head to
toe in mahogany leather, and offered me a cigarette. I took one and let
him light it from the glowing end of his, a weirdly intimate act. I
inhaled deeply and then turned my head out of courtesy so as not to
exhale smoke into his face. I knew that he knew what word trembled in
me. At last, with the kindness of an executioner, he relieved my
agony.
Yours.
* * * * *
Winter ebbed into a lush spring. As though we had conjured them by our
very planning, hara did arrive in twos or small groups, so that by the
end of that first year we were nearly fifty hara strong. Some were
Unneah, some of nameless origin as we had been, and even two bewitching
marvels who had made their way from a great distance in the north, two
misfits of the Coluraste tribe. We tended crops, took care of livestock
brought into our fold from the endless scouting sojourns, made wine,
tore down some of the human dwellings and let the forests take their
claim. I did become commandant, in charge of ensuring every hara was
armed and trained to fight and defend our home, while Kyrgian and
Iolethe took upon themselves the mantle of spiritual guides.
So the months marched on, and I took on the role of proud mentor as
Parallax shone in his martial and spiritual advancement. He and I took
aruna together on occasion, as did Vaysh and Abelard. One memorable
night while out on patrol, Vaysh, Parallax and I explored the myriad
ways in which three hara could feast at the table of physical and
spiritual delights. I couldn't bring myself to say the word aloud
very often, as it had been ingrained in me that it was sacrilege, but my
love for Vaysh deepened and expanded as the days went on. We were marked
by it, though not to the naked eye; we were like trees, whose tale in
rings is only truly told once cut down and exposed for the world to
see.
At the time, I couldn't have known how apt and terrible that
comparison would be.
As we approached Smoketide, Kyrgian, Vaysh and I sat at Crossview,
gazing out at the sedate mountains. We drank wine and discussed the
logistics of draining the indoor pool we'd been using all summer.
Kyrgian went into a kind of trance, which didn't give me pause; it
happened not infrequently. Vaysh and I refilled our cups, watching a
hawk soar on the heated air currents wafting up from the valley floor,
until Kyrgian rejoined us in spirit as well as body.
"They'll be here before dusk," he said, a youthful
excitement in his voice I'd not heard in a long time.
"Who'll be here before dusk?" I asked.
"Our newest hara." His eyes gleamed as he held out his cup.
Vaysh poured wine into it, glancing at me with a quizzical
expression.
"Newest hara? Excuse me? If you knew new harafolk were coming, why
didn't you tell me before now?" I asked, both baffled and
frankly angered that I'd been kept in the dark. "That was
irresponsible of you."
"We've been communicating for some time," he admitted,
taking a deep draught.
"Why didn't you tell us? Are they in danger?" Vaysh asked,
voicing my next sentiment.
"I wanted it to be a surprise."
"A surprise?!"
"Dammit Ashmael, quit repeating me," Kyrgian blustered, but
his obvious enthusiasm temporarily triumphed over my ire.
"Well, don't you think maybe I should alert our guards at the
gates, or have you instructed them to sneak in? It'd best not be the
latter or you and I are going to have to have a serious talk about who
has ultimate authority here." It was only Vaysh's calming touch
on my leg that brought my hackles down.
"Let's put off the power plays to another time," Vaysh
offered, evidently not wanting to have to be witness to a shouting match
on what had been such a pleasant late summer afternoon.
"So now I know," I said, feeling my brows furrow.
"They're obviously special if you've kept this secret for
so long. I won't allow you to let me look like an idiot, so fill me
in."
"They're just hara," Kyrgian started until I growled, low
in my chest. "Oh Ashmael, it's fine. They're from the line
of an ancient indigenous human tribe, but it's their third companion
that is the most astonishing thing about them."
"Quit explaining with more riddles!" By now I was
exasperated.
"It'll be clear shortly."
"Do they need special accommodations?" Vaysh asked, sparing
Kyrgian from the invective-rich tongue-lashing I was about to serve up.
I looked gratefully at him; he was as practical as I was, but far more
innately diplomatic.
"No— they can stay in the guest quarters for a few days until
they decide where in Castlegar to set up a more permanent
residence." Kyrgian couldn't suppress the smile that was loath
to leave his lips.
"For the record, I'm not happy about this, your keeping
information from me," I stated, getting up from the wooden bench
we'd made. It had replaced the rotted one that had been there when
we arrived.
"Duly noted."
"I know my title is considered somewhat a joke, but I am
essentially in charge of our growing town. I need to know about anything
disruptive, especially if that knowledge is available in
advance!"
"Go get cleaned up," Kyrgian said with a lighthearted wave of
his hand. "No need for you to get your drawers in a
twist."
"Don't be condescending!" I fumed. "I have every
right to be pissed off at you."
"Kyrgian hasn't ever done anything to jeopardise us,"
Vaysh reminded me as he forcefully steered me away and to the path that
led back to the heart of the grounds.
"It's the principle of the thing," I found myself
muttering an hour later. I'd taken a shower and dressed in my most
officious outfit, which looked much like the rest of my clothes worn at
that time of year: brown leather pants, linen sleeveless tunic, leather
braided armbands worn about the bicep, and my boots. It was really too
hot for the leather, but I wanted to make an impression.
Vaysh came over, shaking his head in disbelief. "Let. It. Go,"
he said, kissing me in between words.
"But—"
He placed a nail, lacquered in darkest indigo, against my lips.
"They're heading in from the gates."
"How do you know that?"
Vaysh tapped at his temple impatiently. "Kyrgian. Come on,
let's go."
Curiosity overwhelmed my continued annoyance of being bossed around as
though I were a child. We'd taken a residence in one of the
buildings on the main quadrangle at the very heart of the former campus,
and I heard a bell tolling, calling the hara who chose to eat communally
to our evening meal. Some preferred to stay in their dwellings,
especially those spread out further afield on the mountain, but hara
tend to be social creatures. For the most part, we enjoyed each
other's company, and those not out on patrol, or tending the
vineyards, usually ate together. I stood out beside the main road, its
asphalt beginning to crack as tendrils of grass teased through fissures
granted by its lack of maintenance. Vaysh came to stand beside me, a
decorative fan in his hand, creating a welcome slight breeze as he moved
it through the air. I found my mind wandering: there were repairs in the
stonework I wanted to have done to one of the small buildings being
readied to house canned fruits and vegetables.
"I think I'll make an announcement at breakfast to find out if
anyone in our ranks knows anything about masonry," I said. "If
not, I'll need to conscript some volunteers to learn. Surely some
har knows at least something about
construction
"
My voice trailed off when I heard the sounds of horses' hooves
clopping slowly on the road. Oddly enough, Kyrgian appeared to be riding
one of the new hara's horses, one har was on the other horse, and
another walked ahead of them, a shorter figure at his side who
couldn't be an adult. Unless it was a diminutive human. Kyrgian
hadn't said anything about that! When they were only a few hundred
yards away, I realised why Kyrgian had kept this secret to himself; they
were striking to behold, burnt sienna skin and hawk-like, regal noses,
flowing black hair with braids and coloured beads. It was the smaller
one that defied reason, and made the blood roar in my ears so that for a
moment, all other sounds faded to silence. Time slowed to molasses speed
as they drew up to us, and I saw with my own eyes a harchild. There
could be no doubt of it; I couldn't explain how I knew it was so.
Vaysh had been shocked into a similar, reverent torpor.
Coming to myself, realising I was staring and acting in a manner devoid
of any decorum, I straightened up and looked at the two adult hara.
"My name is Ashmael," I said, unseemly grateful that my voice
hadn't cracked. "I serve as commandant of Castlegar, our town
here on the mountain. Welcome."
Vaysh also introduced himself while the har on the horse dismounted to
flank the harling whose age I couldn't begin to guess. All of their
eyes were black, harbouring incomprehensible deeps of emotion and
wisdom. I suffered the unpleasant sensation of feeling like a young
child, yet again.
"I'm Firestorm," one said, beads of cerulean and onyx
woven into his plaits and embroidered on his vest. "This is
Cloudblaze. We are chesnari. And this is our son,
Firethorn."
I swallowed thickly, startled at my sudden urge to fall to my knees,
weeping at how perfect and astounding their son was. Firethorn, for his
part, seemed to realise the distressing effect he had and it unsettled
him. He evaluated Vaysh and myself before turning back to Cloudblaze to
comment, "I'm really hungry."
"You're here just in time for dinner," Kyrgian reassured
him, and the harling nodded solemnly. The youth tilted his head, his
gaze going back and forth from me to Vaysh and back again.
"How did you change your hair colour?" he asked me, walking
over to pull some gently into his palm.
"I didn't. I'm a natural blond."
"The hara here will look different, Thorn. We talked about
that," his father said, chiding him.
But
weren't they both his fathers? My legs threatened to
buckle as this exquisite proof of harish procreation looked down at the
ground, chastened, before fixing his gaze back on my face.
"You are strong and beautiful," he said.
I didn't know how to respond, shocked as I was, but flattered
nonetheless.
"Don't say things like that to him, it'll go to his
head," Vaysh said, the smile infused in his voice.
"We have been isolated for many years," Cloudblaze said
apologetically, shimmers of blackcurrant glinting in his hair as it
caught light from the setting sun. "We speak plainly by
nature."
"Not a problem," I said, battling to regain my composure.
"If more of us did that, we'd be better off."
Firethorn caught my eye as Kyrgian suggested we get to the dining hall
and make proper introductions. I raised my eyebrow in anticipation of
another question from the harling. At last a smile settled on his lips,
his face bright as sunrise. He was going to melt the hearts of no few
hara. The repercussions of the arrival of these three into our midst
were going to be far-reaching, that was indubitable.
"Will I meet your son at dinner?" Firethorn asked, idly
playing with the red-violet beads in his braids.
"We don't have one," I said, and saw confusion in his dark
eyes.
"Yet," Vaysh said warmly.
YET?! I shot back directly to his mind. We don't even
know what it takes to make a harchild, or how rare it is!
The hara will tell us before the night's out, I'm sure of it.
"You're the first harchild I've seen," I said as we
walked the short distance to the dining hall. I was content to let
Kyrgian continue his introduction of our enclave to Cloudblaze and
Firestorm, and they seemed equally at ease for Vaysh and myself to get
to know their son. "Did your fathers tell you how special you
are?"
"Firestorm is my father," he said emphatically. "And
Cloudblaze is my hostling. But Firestorm could have a child, if he
wanted to. I think Cloudblaze wants me to have a brother, and he thinks
he's a better choice as a hostling than my father. He's stronger
in spirit, he says, to carry a pearl."
So this was it. My mind reeled. It truly, emphatically sank in that
already there was a generation — of one, at least — for whom
the word mother was utterly meaningless.
"How old are you?" Vaysh asked as the new hara tethered their
horses and we prepared to enter the bustle and clamour of an everyday
meal. But today we would walk in with tangible, heart-bruising beauty;
evidence that when there were no more human inceptions, our race would
continue.
"I have five winters."
I stopped dead in my tracks, my hand on the door. "You're only
five?" I asked hoarsely. He appeared to be twice that.
"I think pureborns, or wholly hara, I don't know what to call
him, other than dazzling," Vaysh said, running a finger across
Firethorn's high cheekbone in a languorous caress, "they must
mature far faster than human children."
My heart had leapt into my throat, but I opened the door. Firethorn had
the sense to join his father and hostling, his fingers interlaced with
those of Cloudblaze for support, no doubt. Though it felt like weakness,
I did the same, taking Vaysh's hand. When he squeezed my fingers,
however, it transformed into strength.
* * * * *
That night, torches were set up along the rectangular sides of a grassy
sward, an enclosure between two of the stone buildings in the middle of
the grounds. At the base of the slope a covered walkway provided
shelter, and in front of it perched a stone shelf and stairs, much like
a small stage. Cloudblaze and Firestorm sat cross-legged on some
cushions somehar thoughtfully had provided for them. The composed hara
faced us, wondrous secrets dancing in their auras like fireflies.
Firethorn had gone off, jealously escorted by Jaffa, Gladwyne and
Parallax to explore the grounds. Jaffa, of course, had seen nothing so
novel as a harling, and he appeared as though he would explode with
excitement, Gladwyne in tow. Parallax feigned relative disinterest, but
I knew him well enough to be sure that he, too, was bursting with
questions. As were we— hence the informal Gathering with our new
hara.
Kyrgian made a short speech filling us in as to their reaching out to
him through the ethers and how they had been led here from lands far to
the west. While these two hadn't pursued any particular caste
ascensions, it was obvious to all of us that through their own, unique
pursuits, they were enlightened nearly beyond us all, Kyrgian and
Iolethe as exceptions. And perhaps Belvac. Mostly, however, the hara
wanted to know what had occurred between these two to make it possible
to create life as they had. An instantaneous plague of paternal fervour
had swept through our group, leaving nearly none untouched. We had
experienced peace on the mountain since the surprising arrival of
Gladwyne and Parallax, but news had come through the year with the
arrival of our other new inhabitants. Much of Megalithica was under the
control of former Uigenna now known as Varrs; we seemed like an island,
though if we could somehow bear harchildren, we could grow fairly
rapidly in strength and number.
As Firestorm spoke, with Cloudblaze interjecting occasional thoughtful
phrases and explanations, it became apparent that none of us had even
begun to guess at particular powers to be found in aruna. There were
some in Castlegar who had explored the potential of Grissecon, Vaysh
included. But nohar had ever dared, so it seemed, to surrender so
absolutely, to be led to another plane of being while in those ecstatic
throes. There, apparently, the souls of potential life dwelled, awaiting
an unspoken invitation to return to earth, nestled in a secret chamber
inside the body. It seemed rather capricious to me, and required an
intensity of devotion I personally doubted to exist between even our few
who were chesnari with one another. And yet, many in our group nodded
their heads, captivated by the thought.
"We think it is rare, and won't happen to everyhar,"
Cloudblaze said, his gentle voice carrying even to the back of the group
where I sat, keeping watch out of ingrained habit. "I have
meditated, asking the Aghama's will for us, if he would deign to
share such knowledge. He seems not to wish for our race to scurry over
the world in hordes like locusts, but he adores and cherishes new life.
It is a paradox."
I couldn't help but imagine my harbretheren over the next few weeks,
tired out at their daily tasks as roonfests reigned at night, and I
sighed.
"It's novelty, and will wear off," Vaysh said to soothe
me. He knew many of my thoughts seemingly before I even knew they were
there.
"True. I'm glad we have Jaffa around, who can help Firethorn
understand and cope with his Feybraiha. He may only be five years old,
but I'd wager he'll be going through it far sooner than we
expect. But Vaysh, the rest of our community
" I said, looking
bleakly at him.
He smiled. "I know, Ash. You're commandant of a town, and you
want it to stay that way, not turn into a harling nursery. I really don't
think you need to worry much about it. Our hara are independent, and
were content in pursuing their lives and ensuring we can serve as a
haven for others as they find us. I'm not saying that I don't
think some hara will become hostlings in time— doubtless, it will
happen."
"Firethorn is captivating. It's not him, it's the process
that's just so
strange," I muttered, milling around the
outskirts of the group. By now the meeting had turned into an impromptu
party, soon to take over the whole centre of the grounds.
"Of course it is," Vaysh stated, taking my arm and guiding us
to find Vox and Polaris, always the first to bring wine or liquor to an
event. "All of us here lived the first parts of our lives as human
males. It seems freakish to imagine hosting a child. And then again, it
doesn't at all."
"It's unnatural," I said, with emphasis.
"Only if you insist on holding on to those older patterns of
thoughts. We can create life after all. I think it's terribly
exciting," he enthused, but he addressed my worry before I could
voice it. "And no, I'm not suggesting that you and I go
straight to our bed to try and create a harish lovechild. If it's
meant to be, we'll know. I'm sure of that."
Relief flooded through me and I pulled him close, sharing breath with
him. I was filled with his rich velvet taste and gratitude for our life;
I soared on the wings of his untamable affection, riding a dragon
through uncharted skies.
"When you're quite through," Polaris drawled, mischief
glittering in his eyes and waving a two-thirds full bottle of bourbon at
Vaysh.
"Oh Polaris. You're absolutely divine," Vaysh said,
turning away from me to mouth open kisses along the side of his
face.
"Yes, yes," Polaris said, grinning. "Do go on. I have all
night."
"Feel free to keep buttering him up," I said to Vaysh,
squeezing his hand. "I should go and spend some more time with
Cloudblaze and Firestorm, make sure they're settled, figure out what
skills and talents they've brought with them."
"Ashmael. It's a party. Lighten up!" Vox said, having
draped himself over Polaris' side and giving the bourbon bottle a
mournful gaze. "Do you have to give that away?"
"No, dear," Polaris replied, tapping his chesnari lightly on
the cheek. "We're sharing."
"It's not as though you'll ever go lacking for
liquor," I said, resigned. "In fact, if some hara would spend
half of the amount of energy on work that needs to be done as they do on
their private distilleries, this place
" I didn't finish
the sentence, because the truth was, our environment was in good shape.
"Well, there's plenty around. If you get through that, surely
you two can find more."
"Forget that," Vaysh said, looking imperiously at them, the
pale skin of his exposed chest damp with sweat from the muggy air.
"I know where all the good stuff is." He winked at me and I
quirked a smile in return.
"Well, we already knew that," Vox said. He glanced coyly at me
before they set to the very serious task of drinking copiously.
"Polaris!" I called after I'd walked a few steps into the
celebratory throng. "Did you or Wycker give Jaffa and the others a
curfew?"
"No, but once they catch wind of the festivities, I'm sure
they'll turn up."
Reassured, I made my way through the clusters of revelers, finding a
much-appreciated glass of chilled, tart wine in my hands after a few
minutes. It took me some time to get to the new celebrities because I
stopped to chat with several hara I'd not seen as often as I would
have liked. I was gratified at how well the minimalist structure of our
society worked; after only one year we had plenty of stores for the
winter, we'd not had any brawls, there was almost equal rebuilding
and dismantling to claim these lands as our own. I had a core group of
defenders — it would have been an overstatement to call them
soldiers — and our hara practised spiritual studies as well as
their own artistic and creative pursuits.
For all of that peaceful and prideful thinking, the knowledge of
disquiet to the north and the vast unknowns to the south, east and west
sometimes kept me awake at night. Would we go to war with each other
over land, or, heaven forbid, philosophical differences, replaying the
human legacy which preceded us?
I was so caught up in my reverie that I almost passed Firestorm as he
stood with Belvac and Abelard.
"Woah, Ashmael! Slow down!" Belvac joked, already well into
his cups. "I can tell your mind is racing, probably caught up in
details about the next scouting mission, or archery tournament.
Something dreadfully serious."
I frowned at being belittled. "For your information," I said,
helping myself to the wine he'd placed on a nearby waist-high stone
wall, "I was thinking about how successful we've become. No
fights, no deaths, everyhar clothed and fed, enough wine and liquor to
satisfy at least two small armies!" I toasted him, inclining my
glass as well to Abelard and Firestorm.
"We are grateful for your open arms of peace," Firestorm said,
bowing his head slightly.
I did the same, before acknowledging Abelard's subtle movements to
tug Belvac away so I could speak privately with the har.
"Do you have a shrine to our creator?" he asked.
I shook my head, as shame bloomed crimson in my chest. "Everyhar
has his own ritual," I explained, though it sounded like an
excuse.
"Do not debase yourself." Firestorm gestured at the base of
the wall and we sat. He leaned against the blocks of sandstone; I sat
across from him, struck by the irrational wish to please him.
"Evidently it was not the time, before. But perhaps now it
is."
With a fluid gesture, he drew out a pipe, tobacco and a small tinderbox.
I patted down my vest pocket and discovered, thankfully, I'd put a
pack of cigarettes there before dinner. We sat, smoking, until he began
speaking again. He told me of his people, and how many had converted
back to the old ways when the pervading culture spasmed, choking on its
noxious self-hatred. With unflinching honesty, Firestorm told me of his
nightly prayers to the gods of wind and death to carry him away, but
instead they brought a small group of angels— or so it had seemed.
A hoobuk from his tribe, Cloudblaze, had also been incepted, attaining
the most natural state s/he could have. Then a sickness from some
desperate humans who'd lived in the closest city infected his
angels, and several died. The rest took good horses and headed west.
Cloudblaze had stayed, and as though seeing his true self for the first
time, Firestorm had bonded with him, giving heart, mind and
body.
"Only a few months after our blood-binding ceremony, our bodies
took their joy. Out under the stars one night, I felt a faint latch
open. Suddenly we were swimming in fire, our souls shining together, the
sun eaten by the blazing moon. It really was like that," he said,
laughing at my bemused, cynical expression.
"You're a romantic," I said, pouring the last of the
second bottle of wine we'd shared during his narrative.
"Guilty," he grinned, and I saw a couple of missing teeth in
the bottom row of his mouth; his life hadn't been an easy
one.
"A couple of months later, Blaze was in terrible pain, we were both
scared out of our wits, thinking he might be dying. I tried to meditate
and call for help from the spirits. In the end, he just yelled and cried
and common sense took over. He birthed a luminous sac that hardened; we
were both shocked, as you can imagine. Firethorn came out of his pearl
several days later. Blaze didn't let go of it once it came out of
his body. He kept it warm, murmuring how much we wanted him to break out
so we could see him with our eyes, how precious he was. Now you see him,
nearly six winters later. He is a blessing to us."
I lit a new cigarette, comforted and at peace, as though my spirit lay
at the edge of a balmy pool, soft waves lapping tenderly at it.
"Your coming has changed us," I said. "Iolethe said
knowledge of harish procreation would come to us. I could never have
guessed it'd come and knock me on my ass! Metaphorically
speaking." I only slurred some of my words.
"You have good instincts. Your aura is strong, like a restless
mountain reaching for the sun."
"Do you think it's heresy to love?"
He blinked slowly. I held my breath, expecting wise words as written in
the inky pools of his eyes.
"Things shift out of balance when you deny self. Not denying as in
keeping things away, but pretending that self-truth is
falsehood."
"That's a non-answer," I said eventually.
"Be true, Ashmael, and the true heresies will reveal
themselves."
He stood and helped me up. I swayed slightly; Firestorm, too, was
feeling the effects of the wine.
"I would like to give you something before I go and find my
chesnari," he said before enfolding me in his arms, swift and
supple; a bobcat protecting a cub. His breath was wind-stirred trees and
sunset, a laughing, triumphant force that sought out my worries and
shook them free.
Light-hearted, I drew back, my fingers tracing the beaded symbols sewn
into the leather of his jerkin. "Thank you." The words were
wholly inadequate.
We were called here. It is our son's destiny more than ours, and
even that remains vague. We'll gift you with what we have.
I hope we can treat you with the respect you're due.
"Shelter, loyalty, strength of heart and arms. Laughter and
storytelling, tears and bloodshed. I hope there's not as much of the
last two, but all of these things are spokes in our wheel of life.
We're all of us reborn, new children of earth."
Firestorm cradled my jaw in his hand; I was struck that he was slightly
shorter than I was. His presence rose far taller and commanding than his
actual frame. "Go and dance with your soulmate."
"Sound advice," I replied, feeling a need for the familiarity
Vaysh would provide.
Firestorm headed back in the direction of the grassy, wide alley and I
ventured to the heart of the laughing, talking, singing hara. When I
found Vaysh, he immediately plucked the not quite empty liquor bottle
from Vox's hands and levered unsteadily to his feet.
"Let's go out to the lake," he said, sliding provocatively
next to me and draping his arm down to cup my arse.
"Whatever will you do out there?" Polaris hooted at
us.
"Good God, you're all fucking smashed." I wasn't
sober, to be sure, but I had some sense of decorum. Or thought I did.
The Aralids exploded into fits of laughter, fumbling with each
other's tunics and pawing at their exposed skin as we took our
leave.
The cicadas droned their unceasing, nightly symphony, accompanying us as
we walked along quiet paths. Millions of glistering stars flickered in
the silken black as a milky swath stretched across the sky. Out on the
shore of the small lake, to the chants of crickets and dazzling silence
of space far above us, Vaysh and I made love. We danced ancient steps,
slick with salty sweat. It wasn't a sharing of energies as aruna is;
we gave each other body and emotions unbounded, a corporeal, grounding
act of supplication.
Later, after a cleansing dip in the tepid waters, Vaysh sat in the vee
of my legs, his back to my chest. "We should build a small shrine
to the Aghama here," he said, running his long fingers up and down
my calves.
"How strange," I murmured, kissing the back of his fiery hair
before lying back on the ground, swallowed by the light of the radiant
stars. "Firestorm asked if we had one earlier when he and I
spoke."
"There are no coincidences," Vaysh said simply.
* * * * *
In late October I held a council with our self-appointed leaders, laying
out my plan for five or six of us to go and investigate and map out the
harish settlements to the north that were reasonably close.
"You want to go and spy?" Abelard asked, his skepticism
apparent.
"Not spy, but venture out beyond our shorter scouting missions.
We'd be gone for a couple of months, probably. See what's going
on, how Megalithica is changing."
"You want to see how far Varrish territory goes, and evaluate their
strength," Euclase said insightfully, coming to my defense.
"Yes. Most of our recent settlers have sought refuge from there.
I'm keen to see the source of their troubles."
"But we're coming up on winter," Cloudblaze noted.
"If you were going to go anywhere, why not head
south?"
"I've sensed a powerful tribe far south of us," Kyrgian
said, smoking a pipe, a new trait he'd picked up from our newest
hara. "But they've not set their minds to conquest. Darker
magic is their pursuit. If the Varrs are like the Uigenna, or part
Uigenna, it's in our best interest to know where their strongholds
are, who their leader is."
"It's a huge land, Ashmael," Mabast interjected. He was an
independent Unneah who had been found half-starved the February before,
rescued by Opequon and Ondin. "And there are plenty of scared,
angry humans still around, wanting vengeance."
"I'm not suggesting that we travel without any destination in
mind," I said, keeping my calm. "I'm just saying that the
more we know about the state of things, harish and human, the better off
we'll be here. We're building Castlegar from the ground
up—"
"Metaphorically speaking," Abelard interrupted with an arched
eyebrow.
"The life here, not the actual buildings, dammit," I snapped.
"Surely we're not going to hide here and wait for any
proverbial bombs to drop, right?"
"No, not at all," Mabast said quickly as he peeled an orange.
The fruit was evidence of a successful experiment in a small tropical
greenhouse Jaffa and Firethorn had undertaken as a project, fueled
largely by Jaffa's uncontainable creative enterprise.
"I'll be the first to offer to go with you. It's just that
'north' is rather a vague term," he went on. He eased his
chair back onto two legs, the delicate care in which he pulled the veiny
strands from the orange slices in contrast to his imposing, muscled
form. He reminded me a lot of Monarch, and I newly warmed to
him.
"It is," I acquiesced. "For the next several days, I want
to set up informal interviews of every har who's come here since
spring to get a sense of the distances traveled, the state of the former
human cities, places to avoid, and create a proper map. At least of how
things are now. No doubt it's all in a restless state of
change."
"I'd like to do the same, but from the west. Our travels.
Another map," Cloudblaze finally clarified, since it took me a
second to follow his train of thought.
"I'll ask our friends, Ahalenia and Eleu, to contribute their
path from the far northeast. If we're only going for a couple of
months we won't go nearly that far a distance, but forewarned is
forearmed. So they say." Vaysh cocked his head at me and I nodded,
grateful.
"The Colurastes aren't the most forthcoming, but you don't
seem to offend them," I said, a tang of bitterness in the
words.
Their attitude toward most of us was a distant tolerance, though they
were quite friendly to Vaysh and Wyngarr; Vox and Polaris also appeared
to be in their graces. The two sybaritic libertines positively fawned on
Firethorn, now in danger of becoming doted on by the entire community.
I'd found myself — to my discredit — praying that
somehar else on the mountain would beget another harling just to take
some of the focus off of him, though he bore up under the attention with
an amused kindness that seemed beyond his nearly six years.
"Do you have your scouting party in mind? Do tell," Belvac
said airily, tapping cigarette ash into a wooden bowl.
"Do you want to rip apart my reasoning now or later?" I fumed,
the words dripping scorn.
"You shouldn't go," Euclase snickered, jabbing a thumb at
Belvac. "You'll be too busy trying to do each other in. It
would be distracting."
"We're still friends," I insisted through gritted
teeth.
"So we can see." A ghost of a smile flitted across
Cloudblaze's lips.
"Well, if my valued opinion were sought," Vaysh said primly,
steepling his fingers on the parchments in front of him, "I'd
suggest myself, Ashmael, Mabast, Euclase, and Firestorm. If we take a
sixth, Parallax."
"He's still young!" Belvac barked.
"He's a born warrior," I countered.
"He's nearly ascended to Brynie." Belvac leaned
aggressively over the table. "He's born to do more than fight,
much like some others I know. Or thought I did." The reproach in
his comment wasn't lost on me.
"When do you feel Parallax will be ready?" Kyrgian
asked.
"In a few days, if he devoted himself to it fully," Belvac
grumbled.
"I know him well, too," I reminded him. Belvac was now
fidgeting with the braided copper armband Abelard had crafted for him. I
was certain a flurry of conversation was flying privately between the
two. "He and Gladwyne want to be treated as adults just like every
other har. I think Vaysh's list is a sound one. Does anyhar have
serious objections, or alternatives?"
A mottled silence hung in the air as I looked pointedly at Belvac. He
gave a mirthless shrug; I'd won that round.
"Excellent." I glanced at Vaysh, sitting at my right, swirling
the remains of some cold coffee in a tin. "Llembara's drawing
skills are superb. I'd like for him to join me during the next few
days to create the actual maps. Perhaps you, Cloudblaze, would like to
assist me as well?"
"If that's where I'm needed."
"Kyrgian, I respectfully ask you to call a Gathering in five days.
Those of us going on this mission will leave the day after
that."
Why don't you ask Abelard and Belvac to stand in as Commandant
and Archon? Vaysh sent the suggestion fast as quicksilver.
You're a genius, I marvelled. What would I do without
you?
You wouldn't. His snark was unimpeded by his telepathic voice.
I can think of all kinds of ways you can thank me
Later, I thought, suppressing a smile.
"Abelard. Belvac." They turned, expectant, and surprised.
"I'd like to ask you to serve in Vaysh's and my stead as
Commandant and Archon while we're gone. Are you willing to take on
those tasks as need be?"
"Sure," Belvac said.
"Yes. Most everyhar here looks out for each other, but we can step
into those roles in your absence," Abelard replied with far more
politesse.
Six days later we left Castlegar; a small entourage bid us safe travels
and prayers of protection at the stone gates, mostly consorts and
chesnari. The mountain itself appeared not in the mood to let us go
easily, cloaking the realm in the impenetrable fog we'd come to
expect in the year and few months we'd been residing here. Parallax
had insisted that he be allowed to go, and it seemed that his
determination had tempered Belvac's scorn for the whole
endeavour.
We rode north for sixteen days, following our new harish maps. Euclase
and Parallax became our group scribes, taking copious notes and
modifying the maps when we passed ruined towns, and the very few human
settlements still inhabited. We circuitously bypassed one, sensing their
numbers; two nights later we were ambushed, but there were only a few of
them, full of bloodlust and not nearly quick enough on their feet once
we figured out what was happening. We burned their bodies the next
morning. Firestorm and Vaysh both had well-honed abilities to seek and
guard against harish mind-thought, but after a fortnight had come and
gone and there hadn't been even a flicker of sentience, I began to
wonder. Perhaps I was unwittingly leading us all into a trap, riding
into territory that could be protected by Wraeththu who were superior to
us in masking their presence.
It was with a cold shock of relief, then, when I heard both Vaysh and
Firestorm gasp audibly, looking wildly for the other as we rode in
pairs.
"What is it?" I asked, trotting Willow up from Mabast's
side to match Arches' pace.
"Hara. Three, and two are dying of some human-caused disease.
Firestorm thinks it may be what killed some of the hara who incepted
him."
"What tribe are they?" Parallax asked, though we all suspected
there could be only one answer, given what all our maps
indicated.
"Varrs. But only just," Firestorm said cryptically.
With guidance, we urged our horses on. The afflicted hara weren't
that far away; the one still immune had felt the brush of Vaysh's
scan and screamed a plea for help. Not quite two hours later we found
ourselves approaching a long-abandoned human barn, skulking at the edge
of acres of dead cornfields.
"Are we sure this isn't some Varrish snare?" Mabast called
to me, the first to believe the worst about all things Varr. In that
regard, I was as close behind him as shadow.
"No, but it doesn't seem their style, luring us in instead of
fighting outright," I yelled back, my words snatched away by the
wind.
Tired of keeping their treasure, the leaden clouds overhead began to
release their wintry offering; thick snowflakes fell as we pulled up to
the decrepit structure. Sagging windows looked mournfully at us. An
uncomfortable prickling crawled down my spine and I looked up, sensing
that all of my companions were doing the same. Above the middle of the
field, the clouds churned and darkened, as though a cauldron boiled
behind it, readying to expel something far more malevolent than
snow.
"What the fuck?" Vaysh swore, tugging his hood closer around
his face, glancing wide-eyed at me. All I could do was briskly shake my
head. The air was rent with the metallic crack of thunder and all of a
sudden, a malapropos, tangy scent of ozone. With a triumphant, booming
clap, a horse and rider burst out of the sky and pummelled the ground,
slowing from a gallop to a canter, eventually to a brisk walk in their
final approach to us.
Vaysh and Parallax had fallen to their knees as the har approached. Har?
He was a god, a lurid, dark angel, a fire in corporeal form. He shone as
though bathed in sunlight from an invisible source. Hair of flame
streamed behind him, ice crystals falling from it and the luminous
equine king's nostrils despite the relative cold of our reality.
Power, knowledge— it pulsed and danced in him, radiating blue
flame, igniting fear and awe, shattering my imagination, caressing
tender wings across my thudding heart.
The falling snow muffled nature's ambient noises; I wondered if any
of us were still breathing.
Dressed in an outlandish ermine coat, aubergine leather boots that laced
up to his knees, pity and love were chiseled on this creature's
features, ageless and young. He dismounted and walked forward with the
deadly grace of a puma. When he smiled, I felt no reassurance, instead I
drowned in wretched unworth.
"I am Thiede," he said, the answer to all questions.
I felt that my tongue had been wrenched from my mouth. A maelstrom of
love and despair spun and floundered in my heart. This was a har. How
could we even dream to reach the lofty heights he'd
achieved?
"You all are doing tremendous things, truly splendid, my
dears," he went on, sweeping over to Parallax and Vaysh. He placed
fingers with long, talon-like nails under their chins, lifting up their
faces to gaze on his munificent being. "Please get up," he
said sweetly, and Vaysh and Parallax did so. "There's no need
to worship me— I am one of you, after all."
His glance flickered over to me and with resolve pouring from I
don't know where, I managed to stay standing, and held his gaze. An
intrigued appreciation simmered in his eyes; I felt refined, purged. I
had passed a test, and been deemed worthy. Thunder rolled in my
heart.
"There are ill ones inside. I believe you know what must be done,
but I'll assist you. Yes, you and you," he said, pointing his
immaculate claws at Vaysh and Firestorm.
I tentatively reached out in mind-touch to Vaysh and saw him startle;
he'd been wholly absorbed by the presence of this otherworldly
har.
Ash! God! Grissecon. Come and shelter us. This is— oh, god,
god, god
he babbled in a silent frenzy.
I calmed him as best I could, but the next while was a blur. Inside of
the ramshackle barn, Thiede's radiance was all the more striking. He
was all business, now, orchestrating events with the merest suggestion
of thoughts. The poor hara inside had collapsed in fits of fear and
relief, overwhelmed at being rescued from death. The one caring for the
other two sat sobbing. Whatever inner dam of control he'd had was
long broken as torrents of gratitude and the hopelessness he'd felt
hours before came flooding out of him.
Thiede evaluated the wasted hara, clinging to each other, huddled under
some moth-eaten horse blankets. He closed his eyes for a moment then
looked again at me. "I'll need to take them to your mountaintop
home faster than you can travel. I've just sent for someone.
He'll arrive shortly."
Pockets of hushed conversations drifted; everything seemed to happen in
slowed, honeyed time despite the innate urgency imprinted on
everyone's face. Thiede stood behind me as I cast spells of warmth
and sanctity while Firestorm and Vaysh composed themselves for this act.
Thiede's aura seeped around me, guiding me with a tantalysing hint
of just how much power germinated within me, having come nowhere near
fruition. With wordless thoughts, fingers of electricity, he guided my
incantations. Firestorm and Vaysh became an altar, a pyre— I
lowered my hands and moved away, rejoining the rest of the small
assembly. Thiede spoke conspiratorially to Parallax, who looked as
though he were face to face with a ravenous lion.
Another har strode through the door, resplendent in an ebony pelt. His
silver hair glistened with the same ice crystals and he carried the
faint odour of ozone as Thiede had when he'd first come to land. Far
less aetherial than Thiede but just as commanding, he pulled out an
azure crystal phial and handed it to Thiede before taking a moment to
assess our motley band. I sought his gaze and he arched an eyebrow at
me. His fingers rested briefly on the silver chains and amulets resting
on his chest as he nodded, acknowledging my greeting.
The walls now seemed to curve protectively around us, breathing with the
slow chant Thiede had begun and into which, one by one, we'd added
our voices. At the point of Vaysh and Firestorm's completion, a
warmth and sparks of a thousand comets cascaded into the room. Parallax,
with shaking hands, took the phial and a delicate, long-handled spoon
from Thiede and went to the corner where Vaysh and Firestorm lay,
returning to our circle a few moments later. Their fruits shone with
amber phosphorescence, brightening the faces of all of us enraptured by
the slow, fluid movement inside the glass. I saw Parallax's cheeks
damp with tears, his expression beatific in its wonder.
I thought suddenly of Vaysh and his well-being and hurried to go and
check up on them both. Vaysh's face was flushed with exertion and
the glow of aruna; silently I thanked him and Firestorm, also breathing
heavily. Once Vaysh had dressed I ran a thumb across his cheekbone,
undone by his vivacious beauty, this loving firebrand, my heart's
comrade in arms, my truest desire. The affection shining in his eyes
bruised my soul.
We were being called to return to the circle, to watch and reach hands
forth, radiating power as Thiede performed a series of chants and spells
until he deemed the Grissecon offering ready.
"Arahal. I believe you brought wine?"
"I did."
The incongruity of such a casual statement after the potency of ritual
was jarring, but the moment passed. Arahal, so this other har was
apparently called, poured wine into two of our tin cups. Thiede, with a
last dramatic swirl of the phial, poured half into each dented tin. I
almost laughed.
Euclase took the cups to the sick hara, their grey skin appearing all
the more lifeless compared to the vibrancy of we who'd been a part
of this ceremony for healing. His role as high priest concluded, Thiede
resumed his former aloof, but captivating demeanour.
"Arahal, you and I will each take one of these poor dears to—
what do you call it? Castlegar?" he asked me, though the comment
was no true question.
"You know a lot about us," I ventured. "Where did you
come from?"
"All in time, Commandant, all in time," he said, the words
sensuous and yet the thread of amusement never left his voice.
"I'll come and visit you again, soon. Then I shall tell you of
my plans and dreams, just beginning to take place in a land far from
here. I've been waiting for a good moment to make my presence known,
and this seemed as good a time as any. Arahal? Are you quite
ready?"
Arahal threw his head back, his hair cascading down his back, a thick
waterfall of mercury. He had the sickly hara tucked to his sides, an arm
about each one. He seemed somewhat immune to the extravagance of this
demiurge, and I respected the authority that emanated from him.
"Yes. It's a good thing we're not travelling far, though. I
don't think they'd survive in the Otherlanes for
long."
Their compatriot who'd been their caretaker made an anguished noise
at that statement. Euclase stepped over to comfort him.
"Don't you worry," Thiede said, smiling brightly, showing
clearly his long teeth. With a jolt I was reminded that he wasn't
remotely human. None of us were, of course, but the awe he inspired and
the fact that he
— and Arahal — had arrived from God knew where on horses
that flew
I half-expected shining wings to pop from his shoulders
and a flaming sword to appear in his manicured hands, like the angelic
messengers in the church windows of my human boyhood.
With great pomp and a swirling of fur coats, they were gone, leaving the
rest of us in a stunned, empty silence. Some of the residual energy
still pulsed in the air, dissipating slowly like a shimmering rainbow as
it fades into nothingness, making you wonder if it had ever really
existed.
"Well," I said raggedly. "This wasn't exactly in the
plan, but I think we should go home. Anyhar disagree?"
Silence continued to reign, so I nodded. "We'll stay here for
the night, and then begin the return trek tomorrow."
"Do you really think they took them to your mountain?" the
anxious barely-Varr asked, wringing his hands.
"It's all we can assume," Mabast replied, his thumb
stroking the hilt of the gun nestled at his hip. "Where do you
really think they came from?"
Without missing a beat, Vaysh gave him a look of rueful
melancholy.
"Paradise."
* * * * *
We returned twelve days later, hastened with the help of our newly
improved routes. Rumour, gossip and theories of all kinds had apparently
run rampant about the mysterious appearance of Thiede and Arahal. Their
sensational materialisation at Castlegar with two barely-alive hara, on
horses that defied gravity and a slew of other usual laws of physics,
had caused quite a ruckus. The ceaseless questions to which no-one had
answers eventually died down, helped in no small part by the discovery
that Ahalenia, one of the Colurastes, was carrying a pearl.
Kyrgian was in the welcoming party at the stables where we left our
horses in the fine hands of a few stablehara. He seemed rather perturbed
at Thiede's non-answers to his questions during his brief visit, and
elaborated as we walked back to the centre of town.
"I asked Thiede about birthing spells and incantations,"
Kyrgian said, frustration in his voice. "He just waved his arms and
said, 'Oh, think on it for a few days. The answers will come to you.
You're a har, don't worry, it'll be just fine.' I
don't know where he came from, but I'll admit it, I was
impressed. How could you not be? But you, Ashmael, you'd
never be as vague as that about something so important," he
declared, and I had to agree.
"Opequon has been writing down the thoughts and visions that have
come to him in dream states and in meditation," Cloudblaze informed
me as our weary group headed to the dining hall. "We need books, or
need some way to teach our spiritual and magical understandings with
more structure than we do now. But we're all so new!" he
laughed, and I couldn't help smiling at the incredulity in his
voice.
"And I guess come early January we'll have a brand new
harling," I said. "I don't know that I can stand to watch.
That should be a private matter."
Cloudblaze gave me a piercing look. "You don't seem to shirk
from fighting; you can't tell me that you're
squeamish."
I couldn't suppress my shudder. "I'll do whatever's
necessary to protect our community, but I'd far rather be in combat
with a crazed human than at the feet of a crazed har with his legs
spread, other hara yelling at him to push!"
A secretive smile of remembrance lit Cloudblaze's face. I saw Vaysh
catalogue the serenity in the former hoobuk, and I could almost feel his
tremour of acceptance. He would never pressure me, but an ember had been
lit in him; Vaysh had heard the Siren call. He wanted to travel with me
to that weave and weft of souls, to nurture and cocoon a son who would
be uniquely ours. I sensed Cloudblaze's knowing gaze and turned back
to him. He was thoughtful enough not to say anything, though I believed
he'd intuited Vaysh's silent hopes. He instead chatted about
general topics, and the miraculous recovery of the new hara, easing his
arm through his chesnari's to place their clasped hands in
Firestorm's large front pocket.
"Vox, Polaris and Jaffa will have a grand time making plans for
this year's solstice," Vaysh mused as we walked down the gravel
path, past slumbering stone buildings and toward the cheery lights of
the dining hall. "There's so much to celebrate— Mabast
may try to convince them to let him double the size of the kitchens so
they'll have room to properly cook and bake for a huge
feast."
"It's hard to believe it's our second winter up here
already," I said, shaking my head. My nose was running from the
cold and I reached into my back pocket to get a cloth. "And in
other ways these past few years are like several
lifetimes."
"Not since you met me, though," Vaysh said archly, putting
more swagger into his steps. "If you want to keep the peace,
you'll say that our time together has passed far too
quickly."
I squeezed his shoulder, though the gesture was done through layers of
glove, coat and his wool tunic. "There was no time in my life
before you, was there?"
"Absolutely not. I'm your alpha, your genesis."
"And so modest!"
He cuffed me playfully on the back of the head as we went in through the
doors and were absorbed into the din of the evening meal. Not
surprisingly, Vaysh took a seat with Ahalenia and Eleu; Zain and
Llembara were also close by the Colurastes. I wanted to know how
Thiede's brief appearance had affected our mountaintop hara, so I
placed myself next to Polaris as I was sure he'd share his
thoughts— and as town gossip, he'd share the prevailing
sentiments of everyhar else. He didn't disappoint.
"With clothes and an ego like that? Thiede'll be back for our
solstice party," Polaris declared, pouring me a full glass of wine
and a refill for himself.
"I think he'll be too busy having his own grand fête in his own
lands,"
Vox countered. He fingered a couple of fuscous, fuzzy fruits on a small
platter before selecting one and beginning to peel it. "He's
from Megalithica, originally, but I listened carefully to what he
didn't say, and I've figured out he's set up a new
realm for himself across the sea." He looked quite smug and pleased
with himself as he uncovered the bright emerald flesh of the kiwi
fruit.
"You're glad he went back so quickly, too," Polaris said,
puncturing his chesnari's bravado and garnering a murderous look.
"It's true! He was fucking scary. Gorgeous, freakish, angelic,
those purple boots
'dear' this and 'darling' that, and he could probably
have killed any of us with just a whisper of a thought while buffing
those long fingernails. Flamboyant and flaming in all senses of the
word, even if that word's meaningless now," Polaris mused. He
dipped a piece of pineapple in some melted chocolate in a chafing dish
above a flame and, much to my surprise, placed it in my mouth, intrigue
flickering briefly in his eyes.
"That silver-haired one, Arahal, he oozed power, too, and was sexy
as hell, don't get me wrong," Polaris went on as though no
current had passed between us. Maybe I'd imagined it. "I could
tell he thought we're a bit rustic, but he seemed nominally
impressed. They were both so composed, so self-aware and
confident," he reflected, swirling another sunny chunk of fruit in
the chocolate.
"Is all of this fruit out of Jaffa's greenhouse?" I asked,
looking down the long table and noticing there weren't that many
dishes of it after all.
"Jaffa and Firethorn," Opequon said admiringly from his seat
across the table. "They're potent influences on each other,
even though Firethorn's still young."
Once he had my attention, Opequon asked me several questions about our
travels and what plans we had for the future in regards to continuing
our mapping. As we spoke, I was struck at the lush health emanating from
him. The distinctive vivid green in his hair shone amidst the black,
which he currently wore long with decorative, complex braids on one side
and a strip shaved above his left ear. At one point he made a sweeping
gesture, and my gaze fell on a jewel-coloured scarab tattooed on the
inside of his right forearm. It seemed familiar, but it took me a while
to remember why. Once I did, several niggling puzzle pieces all snapped
into place. Ondin and Wyngarr had identical art, having asked Wycker to
do the tattoos when they'd pledged their affections to each other.
At a lull in our conversation, I stretched out my hand and let my
fingers smooth across the bright aquamarine and jade inked on his skin.
My suspicions were confirmed when his coltish, often severe expression
softened and one side of his lips quirked a smile.
"We were going to approach Kyrgian because we thought you'd be
out scouting and mapping for a couple of months. Since you've
returned and will be here for the solstice, well
" He looked
apologetic. I almost didn't recognise the sentiment for what it was
as I'd never seen it on his face. "You've been close
friends with Ondin for many years."
"Let's just call it forever," I agreed with an inviting
smile.
"Right. You know that I was still in bad shape when Vaysh managed
to make contact with Monarch and we first joined your clan. I'd been
pretty crazy about someone, and mourning him and his death consumed me
for a long time. I'll never forget him, of course, but Ondin and
Wyngarr, just as the cliché goes, gave me a reason beyond revenge
to want to live."
I tilted my head and poured myself some more wine. I was no longer
certain where this conversation was heading. "I've been glad to
see your healing, and Vaysh is, too. I know you two have had your
differences, but—"
"He's always respected my opinions," Opequon said quickly.
"He's taken on the roles required of him, but he's been
fiercely protective of all of us."
"So. The tattoo?"
They secretly fascinated me. Once I'd succumbed to the humbling
truth that I wanted to share everything with Vaysh, to the end of time
and beyond, I'd thought of going to one of our resident artisans to
ink something on me in commemoration. The thin sliver of the romantic in
me wanted to see, of course, whether or not I could convince Vaysh to do
the same.
"Symbol of immortality. You know why Wyngarr and Ondin have theirs.
Well, their hearts are large enough to have invited in a third, and we
want to mark this formally. We'd like for you and Vaysh to perform a
blood-binding ceremony for us at the solstice."
I nearly choked on my wine. "All three? Together?" I asked a
bit stupidly.
Opequon's face lit brightly with amusement. "I'd no idea
you could be so easily shocked!"
"Not shocked, just
surprised," I hedged. "I'm
very happy for you. All three of you."
Opequon's beaming smile reverted to his more taciturn expression,
but now I saw the hidden joy behind it. "Thank you."
"Yet another momentous event to celebrate. We'll be eating,
drinking and dancing for days," I said, my eyes glazing over for a
moment as the logistics began to creep in stealthfully despite my best
efforts to put them off until tomorrow.
"You say that as though it's a bad thing."
Vaysh's voice sounded behind me and I leaned my head back, resting
against his ribcage. He slid his hands down and clasped them across my
chest. I covered them with one of my hands, making a low rumbling sound
of appreciation. I looked up and saw Vaysh's bemused expression, his
porcelain features upside-down. He gave me a nearly imperceptible wink
that caused a current of pleasure to snake down between my legs.
"You simply have to be different, don't you?" Vaysh said
to Opequon with mock exasperation. "I do have eyes, you know.
I've seen what's been blossoming just under my
nose."
Opequon's eyebrows raised and he stared defiantly back, his grey
eyes eerily similar to Vaysh's own. "You've always said to
follow my instincts, especially those of my heart."
"Vaysh, you didn't really council your clan to madness like
that, did you?" I asked, reaching out and trying to drink from my
decidedly empty glass.
"Of course I did. Look what it got me!" His warm baritone was
supple leather sliding on my skin and I decided that any further
debriefings and conversations of all kinds could wait until
tomorrow.
"Opequon, of all who are dear to me, your happiness now is the most
deserved," Vaysh continued, his words simple and heartfelt.
Admiration for my chesnari flooded my chest with a warm stain of pride.
"You've always been brave, and only now can we see how
progressive as well. Who knows— perhaps you, Ondin and Wyngarr are
the true future of hardom. Three has always been a sacred, mystical
number, after all."
"I quit noting how often images of threes appeared in my
dreams," Opequon said with a huffed laugh. "I'm glad to
have your blessing, though the ceremony is only a public showing of what
already exists, unbreakable."
"Blood-bindings can't be undone. Ever," I cautioned,
thanking Polaris who'd poured me some more wine before he and Vox
left the table.
"I don't know Ondin and Wyngarr as you do," Vaysh said to
me, splaying his hands so they fanned out across my abdomen, "but
for all his bravado, Opequon does nothing in haste."
"I was hollow and they both filled me," Opequon stated with a
devotion that pierced me to my core.
"Should Wraeththu need poets, you should heed the call," I
said without a trace of sarcasm.
A knowing smile drifted across Opequon's features as Vaysh nuzzled
the top of my head.
"Let's take advantage of the fact that we're back far
sooner than planned. I'd like to sleep on our soft bed,
Commandant."
"Excellent suggestion."
Vaysh released me so that I could stand up from the table, downing most
of my wine once I was on my feet. "Where are the rest of your
partners?" I asked Opequon, who was also readying himself to
leave.
"They ate earlier and went to spend time with the new hara. Ondin,
as you know, is quite the healer, and Wyngarr has a gift for putting
anyhar at ease. Vox and Wycker have him in a steel trap with projects
for our upcoming festivities. For all I know, Wyngarr has enlisted these
two new to the mountain to carve personalised napkin holders or God
knows what else."
I groaned at that image. "Our reputation is going to spread far and
wide as being a place to come for days of wild partying."
"It's only once a year," Vaysh countered with an arched
eyebrow. "And unless the napkin holders get used to decorate
usually hidden parts of our anatomy, they're hardly
wild."
Opequon stifled a laugh. "Go enjoy being back in Castlegar,"
he said, pulling on his woolen coat. "I would like to speak with
you in the next few days about sending out another scouting party, but
to the south," he continued, tugging his hair out from the collar
so it spilled down his back.
"The south? Yes, that's a strategic
thought—"
"Tomorrow, Ash," Vaysh said impatiently and Opequon waved his
farewell.
I was pleasantly mellow from the wine and willing to be led back to our
suite of rooms with no further cajoling.
"As much as I love Arches, I'm desperate to clean her smell off
of me," Vaysh declared as we hung up our coats and I got a fire
going in our bedroom. "I'm taking a hot bath."
He lit several pillar candles with piney scents as well as two sticks of
incense. After our time in the cold wilds, their aromas were
particularly delightful. I heard Vaysh filling our bathtub and I
stripped down to just my underleggings. I stood in front of the
crackling fire for several minutes, engulfed in the scent and sound of
what had become truly home.
I needed a thorough wash as well and ambled over to the bathroom, where
the door was cracked slightly ajar. I nudged it open and stepped into
the humid warmth. In a corner a coil of sandalwood incense let off a
thin tendril of savoury smoke. Vaysh stood naked in front of the sink,
wrestling with some stubborn tangles.
"May I join you?" I asked, easing the comb from his fingers.
He loved it when I massaged his scalp or did anything tactile with his
hair.
"Of course." His voice was huskier than usual. I swallowed
down his essence as we shared breath until I felt I was lined with
velvet; my soul was dressed in raiment of a king. With a low laugh, he
said, "You're greedy."
"I'll be generous after our bath," I promised, allowing
Vaysh to pull off my underleggings. My ouana-lim had quickened at the
sight of his strong, lean form, his refined features a handsome terrain
both masculine and feminine.
"You're a gorgeous enigma," I told him later as we soaked
in the hot waters.
"Me?" he scoffed, situating himself in the vee of my legs so
that I let out a soft groan at the tempting pressure. "I've
kept no secrets from you. Ask me anything."
A wispy pall of foreboding skittered across my thoughts and I pulled
Vaysh closer to me. His warm skin and the steady rise and fall of his
chest chased away my disquiet. Something he'd said months before
floated back to memory. "Do you really believe there are no
coincidences, or were you trying to sound particularly profound that
night by the lake?"
Vaysh pondered the question for a brief time, swirling one hand under
the surface of the water. "I think there are patterns that
originate far beyond this earth, maybe even this part of the universe. I
don't believe that everything has been pre-ordained and is going
along some inexorable path, though. I can't shake the thought that
we as a race might be a beautiful accident. Even if not, whoever created
the first Wraeththu, and those very first ones who created themselves, I
think any planning or control has gone awry."
I let my eyes drift closed, ruminating on what he'd said. "I
think we're destined for amazing things, Vaysh," I murmured,
the faint lilac scent of his freshly washed hair tickling my senses.
"I want to know it all, to go everywhere in this crazy world with
you at my side. You're my obsession. I don't care anymore that
we're supposed to be enlightened and not feel that way— I do.
You're everything."
He craned his neck around to kiss me lightly on the jawbone. "And
doubtless you had plenty to drink at dinner. But thank
you."
"I mean every word," I said stubbornly, easing my fingers down
to tease in the soft curls at his groin. I purposefully lit flames of
his arousal, letting my fingers stroke his quiescent ouana-lim as he
shuddered, pressing back against me. "I want you to prepare
yourself with oil. I'll ready our bed and then, well, you'll
see."
"You're wicked," Vaysh purred. He let out a breathy cry
when my fingers drifted against the folds of his soume-lam.
"I am. Be the sword of air; be ouana," I encouraged him,
kissing the side of his head before easing out of the tub.
I dried off and toweled my hair, pulling it back in a tie as I tended
the fire and arranged the candles in a pleasing pattern. I was wicked,
and grinned at my own plans. I moved our full-length mirror closer to
the bed, angling it sideways so we'd be able to see ourselves while
taking aruna. More than anything, I wanted Vaysh to see himself in the
heated moments of our coupling, his flushed face and wanton
expressions.
The room was our sacred bower, inviting and protective, filled with
spicy and tree-scented aromas. Vaysh walked in, his skin shining with
the oil absorbing into his pale flesh. He'd tied on his leather
armbands at the wrists and around his biceps, as well as compelling
strips at the top of his thighs. His vibrant ouana-lim jutted proudly,
the petals slightly parted, and my mouth watered at the sight. In a nod
to his feminine aspect, he'd lined his eyes in regal purple, but he
carried himself with the aggressiveness of a warrior. I was
undone.
"Come here," I said, my voice gravelly with need.
His grey eyes were warm and loving, like sun-warmed fur; there
wasn't a hint of stone. I fell to my knees, paying homage to the
altar of his body, hands kneading his muscled legs as I fellated the
red-violet spire tantalysingly there for the offering. He gripped my
head so tightly I had to ease my mouth from his ouana-lim.
"Gentle, love," I said with a small smile before I again
devoured my prize. I teased and sucked at the soft skin over steely
length, nudging my tongue to every succulent crevice until I felt his
thighs tremble.
With a last kiss to the crown, I eased back and rose to my feet. I, too,
had focussed my energies into my ouana aspect, as it was my most natural
state. Vaysh had been biting his lower lip and I kissed him, alternately
sharing breath and kissing with pure passion, letting the images rest.
"Be as loud as you wish," I said. "The walls are thick
enough."
"I'm wondering what all you have in mind, you rogue,"
Vaysh said huskily, frotting against me so the stalks of our ouana-lims
pushed together. I groaned at the contact. "Do you want me to tie
you to our bed?" His eyes glinted with feral delight.
"Not tonight, though that is intriguing."
I licked his lips, seeking entrance yet again, our tongues dueling as
our breath carried across torrents of desire until Vaysh broke away.
Breathing heavily, he caught a glimpse of the mirror, pausing to look
curiously at it.
"Stay ouana," I spoke low in his ear, moving us over so our
torsos and below were visible in the reflection. I stood behind him and
wetted my palm before taking the crimson plum organ in hand. He watched,
enrapt, as I pulled and caressed him, easing my own hard length between
the rounded curves of his buttocks.
"Our bodies are clever enough to know when the ouana-lim isn't
in danger of being damaged. I'm going to plunge into your seas, and
you'll stay cradled in my hand. Both at once, Vaysh, and you'll
watch yourself in the mirror. I'll be in you, around you. It's
aruna so powerful; you'll be ouana and soume, all at
once."
"Oh my God," he said, voice cracking. He snaked his arms
behind my back, grinding himself into my pelvis.
"Your lover. Your acolyte," I rumbled, releasing my hold on
him so we could crawl on the bed. I made certain his body was prepared
but he was wild, on hands and knees. He tossed back his head, the
ribbons of red hair falling down his back. He made demands of me using
the harsh, human word to tell me in no uncertain terms what he wanted me
to do. With one long stroke, I was sheathed in his grasping heat. I was
an eel, swimming in his slippery depths, and also a relentless pleasure,
caging his ouana-lim in clenching fingers. He cried out, bucking back
and forth, guttural, broken noises rending the air.
"Look!" I rasped, and he gazed wild-eyed into the mirror,
entranced at our reflection. I sank into him again and again,
quicksilver moonlight dipping in and out of the waves. His mouth was
slack, his pale knuckles a stark white where he grabbed for purchase at
the bedcoverings. The fire of his ouana-lim glowed; the air around us
blazed blue-hot, our energies building to a crescendo with the power of
a volcano.
Our rapture burst upon us; the flames of the candles flared up, filling
the room with golden shadows. Deep inside his embracing warmth I was a
comet, a light striking out and swallowed by the sun. He yelled
inarticulate words as his seed fountained over my fingers and onto the
bed with the sparkle of a thousand diamonds. My heart was thundering,
drumming to the beat of the god of aruna, of little deaths and fiery
sacrifice.
Eventually a tranquil peace drifted upon us, and we settled together. He
held me closely, like the ivy on the stones of Castlegar. My fingers
played idly with the leather plait on the corded muscle of his
bicep.
"You're quite a passionate storm, when you want to be,"
Vaysh said, his fingers carding through my hair that had come loose from
its ribbon.
"You inspire me."
I kissed his sternum and then rose up to plant kisses on his eyelids.
Easing out of the bed, I padded over to a small cabinet and poured us
each a glass of vralsfire. Vaysh discreetly tended to the damp patches
on the bed and undid the leather thongs on his legs before we spooned
together again. We sat side-by-side, legs intertwined.
"Things are changing," Vaysh said contemplatively, sipping the
amber liquid.
"Are you talking about anything in particular?"
"Thiede. Arahal. They'll be back. They were
so
"
"Unbelievable?" I took a healthy swallow.
"Yes. But they're like us, hara, as we are. Think about it. And
Thiede seemed interested in us. We've got to ask him questions,
demand answers as to how they've learned to do what they do. And
then there's Ahalenia— I'm going to be there, when he
gives birth."
"It's a child in a shell," I said, hearing the whimper in
my voice, embarrassed at my fear.
"It will be a harling. Another pure-born, like Firethorn. It's
miraculous. I want to be with them when he comes into the world. How can
you not want to know what that's like?" he asked
plaintively.
"I do, really," I reassured him. "It still seems like a
female thing, but I'm working on wrapping my mind around
it."
"Try wrapping your heart around it, Ash." Vaysh ran the back
of his hand tenderly down the side of my cheek, his face still radiant
from aruna.
"That might be easier."
* * * * *
Rain lashed at the tents, but I was pleased to see that their
construction held, and they were pegged solidly into the ground. The
protection spells woven around their perimeters didn't hurt, either.
An unexpected few days of warmer weather had put everyone on the
mountain in an even more festive mood just before our newly named
Natalia celebration— the precocious Firethorn and Jaffa had
decided the birthday of the new year should have an appropriate name.
The day itself woke in a foul mood, overcast and windy. A storm front
had scampered up the plateau, now battering the mountain with rain and
gusts of wind. Despite the wretched weather, all of the community seemed
to be in upbeat spirits. There were tables groaning under burdens of
food and drink; small, brightly coloured globes of glass with candles
hung from everywhere, filling the three conjoined tents with flickering
rainbow lights. Vaysh and then Polaris had pointed out a few darker
corners of intrigue where enthusiastic, drunk, or simply libido-driven
hara groped at each other or shared breath. I noted the goings-on with
bemusement; were my situation different, perhaps I'd be doing the
same, though I suspected I'd always be the type who preferred to
keep most of my physical exploits away from curious eyes.
"I think we should have the ceremony before it gets much
later," I said to Vaysh over a plate of honeyed ham and a helping
of steaming escalloped potatoes.
"Wyngarr came to me to say the same thing not long ago," he
said, drinking a glass of tangy, sparkling white wine. "He also
asked that we keep it simple."
"That's for the best. I'll get some sage to purify the
space, and let you be the primary speaker for the ceremony. You're
more eloquent than I am."
An incredulous look crossed Vaysh's face, more heavily accented with
cosmetics than usual due to the party. "You think I'm
eloquent?"
"Yes! Don't look so surprised. I do try to compliment you on
your many talents, but maybe I left that one out."
Eyebrows still raised he smiled crookedly. It was an endearing
expression, and shockingly innocent; I realised he must be very at ease.
I wondered how much he'd had to drink, not that I could chide him,
but we did have a solemn duty to perform.
"Vaysh, are you drunk?" I finally asked.
He attempted to sneer, failed, and instead took an asparagus spear off
of my plate and began chewing on it. "No. I may be mellow, but I
most certainly am not in my cups."
"Mellow?!" The cause hit me like the proverbial tonne of
bricks. "Vox and Polaris gave you something, didn't they?"
Vaysh had spent much of the afternoon with Polaris, which had seemed
like a good idea at the time since I was up to my eyeballs in
last-minute issues to do with the weather.
"No, and I suspect they'd take offense to the fact that you
always assume they're the ones up to no good."
"Only because it's the truth," I muttered, taking a long
quaff of wine.
"I spent a little time with our resident Unneah, and he shared some
early Natalia cheer with me."
I couldn't help but stare at him. "Mabast? Fascinating. You
didn't ingest or inhale anything hallucinogenic, did
you?"
Vaysh rolled his eyes. "For the Aghama's sake. I'm just a
bit stoned, but I swear I can perform my required functions with aplomb
and grace. I wouldn't dream of embarrassing you, nor would I act
like an idiot when my clanshar has asked me to perform such a sacred
ritual." With a delicate hand he pulled some stray hair behind his
ear and I noticed the dark brick red of his lacquered
fingernails.
"You're really something," I said, reaching out to take
his hand. He gave me a quick squeeze in return and a soft smile of
gratitude.
"I know. You're incredibly fortunate. Let's go and bind
these three together for eternity. Good God. As though being a pair
isn't challenge enough, dear Opequon has fallen for two hara. Better
him than me."
I led the way through the milling, celebratory throng, greeting and
granting well wishes to everyone we passed. Jaffa came bounding up to
me, sprigs of mistletoe wound into his riotous orange curls. I was
stunned to realise he was only a couple of inches shorter than I was
now.
"Thorn and I have a ballad to sing. We've made sure it's
okay with Wyn, Ondin and Opequon," he said breathlessly, and I
noticed he had a wide strap across his chest. He twisted his back
slightly so I could see the rest— there was a guitar, neck down,
against his back.
"You! What? You're going to sing for their binding ceremony?
Since when have you been playing the guitar? Vaysh, you're not
telling me things I need to know," I said, but he ignored
me.
"He's great!" Firethorn enthused, having suddenly
materialised at Jaffa's side, his black hair in two simple braids
with a crown of holly on his head.
"That sounds splendid," Vaysh said dreamily.
"Thanks! Is that okay, Ashmael?" Jaffa asked. "We really
did write it for them. Well, for them, and for new beginnings, new year,
all of that."
"I
well. Yes."
I wasn't at my most fluent, but no one was at his most sober,
either. It was a night of rebirth and joy; taking Vaysh's arm, we
went to find our novel threesome.
It was a simple ceremony. Jaffa and Firethorn sang a beautiful duet as
Jaffa played the guitar. I caught a glimpse of Cloudblaze and Firestorm,
at their striking profiles, two parents radiating pride. I spoke words
of commitment and devotion, of trial and calm. With the same ceremonial
knife he'd used to conduct the inceptions of over a year ago, Vaysh
cut a thin line on the right forearm of each of them, above the bright
scarabs. His voice was so low I wasn't sure what he incanted as he
pressed their arms together in turn, but I trusted him implicitly. Final
prayers and blessings were made; I sanctified a small bowl of honey and
a plate of crushed herbs.
"Together, through bitter and sweet," I intoned, drizzling a
small amount of each of their tongues. Vaysh prayed ancient words,
whispering into a chalice of wine before handing it to Opequon. With
strong hands he took it, his fingers brushing Vaysh's and his eyes
awash in gratitude. He drank, and passed it to Ondin and then from him
to Wyngarr before it circled around to me. I shared in the communal cup
before raising it in both hands to my chesnari. A bouncing sprig of
mistletoe caught my eye— Firethorn was grinning like a maniac,
riding piggybacked on Jaffa. The old human symbol swung side to side as
he tried to get it to dangle over the threesome without poking any of
them with the jostling stick.
The hairs on my neck prickled and I turned away from the re-emerging
revelry to scan quickly through our group, instantly on guard. My gaze
was drawn inexorably to lurid red and shimmering silver, the two
lissotrichous hara as startlingly otherworldly as when I'd seen them
several weeks before. They'd come. Even from a distance,
Thiede's pleasure at the festivities radiated from him. Arahal was
far more inscrutable, though I noticed his face became more animated
when Polaris swooped in to offer him a glass of wine.
The celebrations were back into full swing; I'd given
congratulations all around one final time and had turned to find Vaysh
to go and greet our guests when I heard Firethorn shouting gleefully,
"Kiss him! Kiss him!"
Trying to find the source, I jerked my head around until I saw him. He
was still on Jaffa's back, his legs held tightly as the mistletoe
dangled over Vaysh's and my head. Firethorn's eyes danced with
mirth, and I felt the keen weight of yet another's eyes on us. Still
in his unusually — for him — carefree, effusive state, Vaysh
took two slow, dancelike steps to reach me. His arms wrapped nimbly
around my waist, and he made a sensuous, purring sound before exhaling
along my jaw to my ear.
"He's watching," he said. "Let's give him
a good show."
The raucous cries around me faded to an indistinct noise as we shared
breath. Even my tenacious thoughts of setting a good example were
smothered in satiny caresses. Embers flared and coiled low in my belly;
Vaysh's supple fingers skated up my back to rub gently at the base
of my skull.
Eventually my decorum freed itself from its tender bonds. I broke away
from the kiss, our lips smacking wetly as we caught our breath. I looked
into Vaysh's eyes, luminous and innocent, the grey a thin ring
around his dilated pupils. He glanced over my shoulder and a conniving
smile quirked his lips.
"That's what happens when you stare, young har," he
drawled. "You get an eyeful. One day this will make sense; your
body will come to life and you'll crave that kind of contact."
Vaysh leaned his chin on my shoulder. I could only imagine the look of
curiosity or distaste on Firethorn's expressive face.
"Hey Thorn, I'd like to go and talk with Euclase for a
bit," Jaffa said, easing Firethorn from his back. I was under no
impression that talking was really what he had in mind.
"Guess I'll go and see Eleu and Ahalenia," Firethorn said
sullenly, leaning the branch with the mistletoe against a nearby table.
" They won't get all gooey-eyed and—"
"I do not get gooey-eyed!" Jaffa said, indignant.
Vaysh had stepped back from me and with unspoken agreement, we left the
arguing pair to receive our guests. We found Thiede in an animated
conversation with Kyrgian, Iolethe and Abelard. Arahal was being chatted
up by Polaris and Vox. Their fascination for him and his complicated but
skimpy leather lacings that decorated his torso was apparent from a mile
away. I only hoped that Arahal had a lot of stamina.
"Ah, the Commandant and the Archon," Thiede enthused, and I
couldn't sense whether he was sincere or sarcastic; I decided it was
the former. "What a dreadful night outside, but all hara here are
in high spirits. I assumed you all wouldn't mind that I paid you
another visit— you couldn't have known how to send me an
invitation," he said graciously, picking up a chocolate-covered
strawberry with his long, taloned fingers. He held Vaysh's gaze
captive as he slid the fruit past his glossy, crimson lips. I'd
never thought that chewing could be an indecent act, but as in so many
things, Thiede was simply outside of any set of usual rules.
"Welcome to Castlegar. Again," I said, proud that I was able
to see him not as a demigod, but another har like me. An unprecedented,
latently threatening har, but still flesh and blood. "On behalf of
all of the Regents, please make yourself at home and be at peace. Will
you and Arahal be needing a temporary home to spend a few days, or just
one night? Or even longer?"
To Vaysh in mind-touch, I said, Get a hold of yourself!
You're practically drooling.
Am not, he insisted with little conviction.
"Well, let's see," Thiede drawled gamely, glancing over to
Arahal. He now was sharing a plate of smoked meats and cheeses with
Mabast. Vox and Polaris were nearby, giving Mabast murderous looks that
he blithely ignored. Arahal sampled the savouries, but he was absolutely
devouring the Unneah. Arahal's attraction was so potent it seemed to
crackle in the air.
"My own commandant," Thiede began, smiling slyly as his
attentions swung back to me. I braced myself under the onslaught of
intensity and mischief that poured from him like perfume. "He would
accuse me of not ever allowing him any fun if we were to leave before
mid-afternoon tomorrow. I cannot stay longer than that, though I do
thank you for your generosity. All of you." He regally inclined his
head, acknowledging the rest of the small group.
All at once, it was as though Thiede had caused his inner flame to
subside. It was much like seeing an eclipsed sun; all of the energy was
there, but pulsing behind a screen. Thiede had become a sleeping wolf;
he'd found a way to wear the raiment of an ordinary har, or as close
to ordinary as he could possibly become. The effect allowed him to move
among the dancing, socialising group without being stared at. He asked
Vaysh and myself to follow him to an empty table away from the impromptu
music where we could speak without yelling.
Parallax must have felt Thiede's presence, as he hurried over to us,
bringing two bottles of wine and a youthful, awestruck attitude. This
appeared to please Thiede tremendously. Chagrinned, I felt a
near-paternal protective instinct for Parallax bare its teeth.
"Vox thinks you're from across the sea," he said, his
hazel eyes turned a shining wheat, set off by his flaxen tunic. "I
want you to tell me everything! Us, I mean," he added a bit
guiltily. He thrummed with excitement, a swooning fan crouched at the
feet of a rock star.
"But then there'd be no mystery!" Thiede said airily,
patting Parallax's hand with his rake-like fingers. "And what
fun is life if there are no sordid secrets to be
uncovered?"
Parallax hung on his words, and Thiede revelled in it. He was
calculating, as well; I could see it behind the benevolent persona he
currently projected.
"You're a lovely har, Parallax, and I think I shall have use
for you in the future." Thiede refocussed his attentions on Vaysh
and me. "I'm building a new realm for Wraeththu, where
enlightenment and beauty will reign. It has only just begun.
Construction is underway even as I speak, which is why I can't stay
longer, though I would enjoy that a great deal. I'm impressed with
your mountaintop community; you have an exotic collection of
inhabitants, all things considered," he mused thoughtfully, taking
a sip of wine. "Even a pure-born, already."
From Thiede's commentary, Parallax's imagination appeared to
have flown to lands of self-gloried fantasy. If Thiede had suggested
they take a side trip to Hell itself, I had no doubt Parallax would have
gone without hesitation, asking to lead the way.
"Immanion," Thiede said, eyes vibrant, the word casting its
own spell. "It's my Castlegar. And I'd like to speak to
these two about it. Alone."
Parallax's face fell. He was like a kicked puppy, his whimpering all
but audible.
"It's nothing personal, tigerling," Thiede murmured, but I
felt jealously for Parallax, and knew that my body language betrayed me.
"I want you to have more experience here before I whisk you away.
I'll plant seeds of intrigue where I see fit, just you wait,"
he said conspiratorially, which appeased the pride-wounded har.
"What are you?" Parallax asked as he stood, pulling his
hopelessly tousled hair behind his ears and gathering his
dignity.
Thiede's smile was the graceful architecture of tenderness. "I
am Wraeththu. Nothing more, nothing less. Now go," he said
playfully, those arresting hands fluttering in the air. "You have
adventures to pursue while I speak to your creators of the mundane nuts
and bolts of crafting a dynasty."
With a sigh, Parallax turned and headed toward Gladwyne and Wycker, who
waved encouragingly at him.
"So."
Thiede steepled his fingers, resting his chin on them. He looked back
and forth at us, his fathomless eyes like searchlights, blazing into my
soul.
"I want you to have positions of high authority in my new world.
And what I want, I get. That's not to sound threatening, it just is.
I'll have need of a general," he said to me, "and a
beautiful monarch," he said to Vaysh. "Any
questions?"
I couldn't help but let out a choked laugh before taking a long
drink from my cup.
"But—" Vaysh was saying helplessly, obviously flummoxed
by such an extravagant and unbelievable mandate. "We don't even
know where this Immanion is! We've never been there. I've never
ruled anything or anyone in my life!"
"Trifles, Vaysh, mere trifles," Thiede soothed, sitting back
to stroke idly at the column of his eerily pale, long neck. "I
would take you both with me tomorrow but you must be more advanced
spiritually in order to ride the sedu. Therefore, that is my first
charge— you and Ashmael need to focus on achieving the caste of
Ulani, to become Pyralists. I'll be able to monitor your progress
but if it's from afar, don't be dismayed. My attentions are
needed in Immanion; I have elite hara engineering the construction of
the city."
My tongue finally decided to cooperate and I was able to formulate a
sentence. "What is a sedu? Why can't you take us now? And if
I'm to be a general, what is Arahal?"
Thiede loosed a melodious chuckle. "I wondered when your torrent of
questions would be unleashed. All will become plain, but only in time.
Even I cannot build a kingdom in a day. A sedu is the horse —
creature — you saw us riding when we emerged from the otherlanes.
It's a way to travel inter-dimensionally, to cover great distances
without machinery."
He held up his hand to stave off the flurry of other questions that
jostled in my mouth. "I'll spend this night with Kyrgian and
Iolethe, to guide their spiritual path so they can lead you. As for
Arahal, he is
" His ruby lips quirked to the side and I felt
Vaysh's hand grab for mine under the table. If he weren't
stoned, I suspected that he'd have become catatonic, overwhelmed by
the vast changes Thiede had stated were inevitable. "He's many
things to me," he said mysteriously. "An officer of the New
World. Now I need to go and make the best use of my hours here with your
Pyralists. Do forgive me." He stood up elegantly from the table, a
swan set to glide to other waters.
"What about the Varrs?" I found myself asking, trying to wrest
back control of my own destiny. "What if Vaysh and I want to stay
here? This is where we've made our home."
"These things take time, Ashmael. Don't fret," Thiede
said, moving away. "You can't even fathom what I'm
offering. Trust me." His smile gleamed, and then he'd vanished
into the assembly.
Vaysh gazed at me, his fingers clenched in mine, his expression dazed.
"Monarch?" he mouthed.
"I don't like being manipulated," I said darkly.
"We don't have a choice."
"We always have a choice."
"I need a drink."
I pushed my glass over to him. He let go of my hand, lifting the cup and
taking two deep swallows before he grimaced. He placed the glass on the
table, staring off into space.
"Our harling would be a prince," he said after a time, his
eyes misty.
"What if Immanion is off somewhere in the frozen steppes?" I
said, intentionally provocative.
"It wouldn't be. He wouldn't live in a place like
that," Vaysh said with surprising logic.
The noises of our carefree, celebratory harafolk began to reassert
themselves into my awareness. Vaysh was similarly brought back to the
present and gave me a weak smile, which strengthened as time went
on.
"Come on, Ash. We're missing a fabulous party." He leaned
over and kissed me on the cheek. I closed my eyes, centering myself in
his familiar light scent of sandalwood, a hint of autumn always around
him.
Unexpectedly I felt Cloudblaze send a tentative message to me via
mind-touch.
Ashmael? Firestorm and I have solstice rituals from our
original tribe we'd like to share. I can sense your troubled spirit.
Let us be with you and Vaysh.
His comforting voice put me more at ease and I nodded, but then Vaysh
looked at me, confused. "Cloudblaze and Firestorm want us to join
them. I think we could stand to be grounded a bit after what we've
been told."
He drew circles on the table with his finger before nodding.
Thank you, I replied mind to mind. Shall
we go to your rooms?
Yes.
I took a deep breath and drained the rest of my wine.
"This is certainly an interesting beginning to the new
year."
Vaysh looked at me, his face grave. "I'll go with you anywhere,
you know."
"I know."
* * * * *
"Ashmael? Come here! He's standing up— and walking!
Kinda!" Firethorn said, his voice elated and incredulous.
I got up from my desk where I'd been documenting the arrival of
another pair of hara, these from the northwest of us, and hurried into
the living room. Firethorn and Vaysh were both making a flood of
encouraging noises as the harling, sure enough, grasped hold of a chair
leg. He stood, wobbling at the knees before bouncing a bit, and took a
few shaky steps. He grinned widely, then fell flat on his behind. The
tot's expression of joy transformed to shock and then his face
reddened as he began to wail.
"Oh Lemmy, it's okay, don't cry," Firethorn said,
scooping him up in his arms and rubbing his back. Vaysh cooed
comfortingly to him as well while Firethorn paced a few steps back and
forth, quieting down the harling.
"It's amazing how fast he's growing," Vaysh said,
coming over to stand at my side.
"I'll say."
Lemuel was only a few weeks old. He'd eaten regular food almost
since birth, though it had been served in a mash until his teeth began
to come in. He had a cherubic, laughing face most of the time, and a
sweet temperament. His curly black hair seemed to have a mind of its
own, though this, too, was hardly unexpected since his sirelings also
shared that disconcerting trait.
"Don't forget, we're keeping him tonight," Vaysh
reminded me.
"He could stay with us," Firethorn said hopefully before
nuzzling his face into the waving curls that fell from Lemuel's
head. "Father and Blaze won't mind."
"Yes, but Vaysh will," I retorted. "I'm going to make
us some dinner. Firethorn, are you staying?"
"No." His voice was glum. "Mabast's given me reading
to do and we're meeting tomorrow morning. Thanks,
though."
He passed the harling into Vaysh's awaiting arms. The infant
promptly grabbed a fat fistful of Vaysh's hair and started chewing
on it.
"Careful, or you'll spoil your appetite!" I said to the
child, who looked at me through vast, light blue eyes and kept gnawing
on the clump of red hair. "Fine. Don't listen."
Firethorn came through the kitchen a few moments later on his way out,
bundled in a fur vest and overcoat to protect against the lingering
winter chill. He picked up a piece of pickled beetroot and popped it
into his mouth, his fingertips stained purple.
"When do they get back from their retreat?" he asked, wiping
his fingers on a damp cloth.
"Tomorrow."
"What are they doing?"
"To tell the truth, I don't really know."
I continued chopping up lettuce, more of the hydroponic and magical
genius coming from the greenhouse now mostly in Firethorn's care.
Since Natalia, Jaffa had been spending much of his free time with
Euclase. Fortunately this had coincided with the delivery of
Ahalenia's pearl and the harling's birth into the world a few
days following. Firethorn had been nearly inseparable from little
Lemuel, and the Colurastes didn't seem to mind.
"I didn't think I needed to pry," I continued. "Their
tribe has its own rituals, but I get the feeling that Eleu and Ahalenia
were never average Colurastes, hence why they left. Or were exiled.
I've never asked."
"Hmmmm."
Firethorn gazed speculatively at the salad I assembled, though his
thoughts seemed elsewhere. He'd grown a few inches since his arrival
last autumn; thankfully he didn't yet seem to be suffering any
awkwardness or inexplicable brooding that would indicate the onset of
adolescence.
"I'm going to plan an herb garden in the summer," he
proclaimed, watching as I put water on to boil on our hybrid stove that
ran on a generator.
"A good plan."
"I'll teach Lemmy everything I know. And maybe," he said
slyly, looking at me with an arresting lack of innocence given his age,
"maybe there'll be another harling by then, too."
I just gazed at him. "Maybe so. Honestly, I don't think
we'll ever have very many. It's not like before, with humans,
who could get pregnant by accident, just like that."
The befuddled expression on his face was priceless.
"Ask Mabast. He was human, too, back in the dark ages. Actually, I
hope that once it's spring and we start scouting again that
we'll find some human enclaves with young men who can be incepted.
Not that harlings aren't superior, but until we know a lot more
about our race and what's really required, flowery phrases
notwithstanding, to create harish life, I don't foresee Castlegar
having lots of doting parents."
"I'm glad I'm not the only pure-born anymore," he said
his long brown fingers deftly plaiting a new braid from the nape of his
neck.
"I thought you'd gotten used to being a
celebrity!"
Firethorn pursed his lips. "I should go. I need to ask some
questions to my akuchi."
"Your what?" I measured out some rice, poured it into the
boiling water and placed a lid on the pot.
"Cards. Blaze and Opequon see things in dreams, but I don't. If
I have questions that other people can't answer, or don't want
to, I sit and think on it and ask the akuchi."
"Fascinating. Maybe you'll show me sometime?"
He nodded. "Sure. Well, I'd really better go." His mood
seemed back to its usual upbeat keel. "See you! Bye Vaysh!" he
called.
"Bye, Firethorn!"
We spent a comfortably domestic evening, the harling holding us both in
his sway as only a child can. Vaysh put Lemuel to bed in the makeshift
crib we'd fashioned for him, spending quite a bit of time reading
stories and even singing a soft lullaby. I sat in my study with a
decanter of vralsfire, poring over a map of southern Megalithica and
beyond. Ondin, Opequon and Wyngarr had declared their intentions to go
on another extended mapping and scouting mission at the first signs of
spring. Belvac and Abelard voiced their plans to join them. I wasn't
surprised; their thinly veiled comments about needing to get away from
the rumour mill and potential turf wars had become more strident since
Thiede and Arahal's Natalia visit. It all meant that many of those I
knew the best and were our strongest hara in both brawn and intellect
would be gone for an indeterminate amount of time. It made me uneasy,
which led me to the realisation that I needed to re-evaluate the roles
of all of the hara in our community.
"You look so preoccupied," Vaysh said as he came to stand
behind me, rubbing my shoulders until I surrendered to his touch. He let
out a low purr of triumph. "I can think of at least a dozen ways to
get your mind off of whatever it is you're worried
about."
"A dozen?"
"Just for starters."
He prowled around the desk and I saw he'd changed into a flowing,
heavy silk dressing gown, belted at the waist but showing off the middle
of his finely sculpted chest. I murmured my appreciation, especially
when he straddled my legs and sat provocatively in my lap. My ouana-lim
had started to awaken when Vaysh's hands had massaged down to my
chest, but I felt no answering hardness in his body. He was in full
soume form, then.
"We've not christened this chair, have we?" he asked
throatily, beginning to grind his pelvis into mine. The friction caused
heat to spiral outwards from my groin, desire frissoning up my spine and
clambering into my stiff, sensitive ouana-lim.
"No. Not yet," I managed to groan before he leaned in to
possess my mouth.
There are times when sharing breath is companionable, even verging on
platonic. This, however, was not one of those occasions. This was an
explosion of supernovas, suns cavorting as Vaysh's desire and
singing chorus of need soared like comets until I had to pull away with
a gasp.
"Fuck, Vaysh!" I said, breathing heavily as his nimble fingers
unlaced the front of my trousers. "You might give a har a warning
before kissing the daylights out of him."
Vaysh tut-tutted, insinuating his warm hand through the gap in the
flannel-lined fabric to free my trapped length from its confines.
"Nonsense," he said as I hissed at his skilled motions, his
palm sliding up and down my heated flesh.
"Still, if you feel you need a warning, you should know that
parenting has made me horny. I'm about to take you so deep, I'm
going to ride you so hard you can't even say your own
name."
He breathed into my ear before flicking around his tongue and nibbling
gently on the lobe. Without preamble or warning, he rocked his hips and
sank back down into my lap, sheathing my upright ouana-lim with the
tightness of a glove. I gave a cry of disbelief, which changed to a
stream of inarticulate groans pebbled with profanity. Vaysh was the
aggressor, milking his own intense pleasure while I tried not to lose
myself in the exquisite tortuous pleasure of his seas. I needed an
anchor— instead, he shared breath again and I was further,
hopelessly lost. The energies of our arunic bliss catapulted us farther
than I'd been before, into wilds of amethyst, teeming oceans that
crackled with the living jubilance of fireworks. Like passing into the
eye of a storm, Vaysh slowed, the tsunami of erotic force quieted and I
was able to catch my breath. My heart thundered in my chest; my fingers
were gripping his hips tightly enough to bruise.
His grey eyes were feral; he possessed me. I had drowned, and the glow
about his disheveled hair was the phosphorescence of incalculable deeps.
He started to say something, and instead closed his eyes, leaning back
his head as he began our intimate dance once again. My climax pounded in
my groin; he brought me to the brink once more before he let abandon
overtake him and my release flooded into his body.
Once the final currents had ebbed away, I chanced a look at Vaysh. The
robe had fallen down his back; his flat belly trembled as his inner
muscles gave my spent ouana-lim a last squeezing caress. He glowed with
arunic strength. I was suddenly jealous for him and how he was so
innately accomplished in the mysterious powers of Grissecon. Other hara
adored him, his abilities to console, his surprising physical prowess,
his wild abandon at our festivities when he let his hair down. But no
one else knew just how brightly his flame for me burned, nor could
anyone have known how singularly my own fire for him blazed.
"Where did we go?" I finally asked after we'd uncoupled
and tidied up only to sprawl out, back to front, naked in front of the
roaring fire.
"I'm not sure." He seemed pensive. "Not to worry,
though," he said in a voice light and fearless. "I
wouldn't go anywhere you couldn't follow."
Affection spilled out from me. I bled with it, holding him tightly to
me, the firelight drawing cheery shadows on his white skin.
"I love you," I admitted softly, burying my nose into the
musky hollow of his neck.
He drew my fingers into an enclave inside his own, clasped to his ribs.
"There should be no shame in that."
"It doesn't seem enlightened. This Immanion, where we'll
visit and apparently play some major part, whether we like it or
not
What if love is seen as too human, too regressive?" It
sounded ridiculous as the words tumbled out, and I finally formed aloud
the words that continually troubled me. "Surely even Thiede
can't forbid it outright."
Vaysh leaned his head down and placed a soft kiss on my
knuckles.
"If he does, then we'll be clandestine outlaws."
I wished that I shared his conviction in love's willingness to
subterfuge.
* * * * *
Winter thawed into a wet, oppressive, indecisive spring that was much
like winter, only warmer. I craved sunlight, and grew to curse the
overcast skies and still frequent fogs that often cloaked Castlegar.
Five of our finest left several weeks after Natalia; the allure of sunny
days and escaping a perception of too many inquisitive eyes — for
Belvac, at least — encouraging their departure earlier than
I'd hoped. I didn't keep a human calendar anymore, but I knew it
was late April when the mountain ceased being coy and the grounds and
trees alike exploded in an exhilarated panoply of life. Everything
seemed to happen at once; flowers popped out of the ground, leaves burst
from formerly lifeless branches. The overall mood on the mountain
lightened a thousand fold, though the fate of our scouts, my friends,
remained a niggling worry in the recessed of my mind.
Arahal visited several times, always on one of the regal white
stallion-appearing creatures. The sedim could somehow travel
paths through space, time and dimensions; I wasn't sure how and
Arahal chose not to be forthcoming. He wasn't unfriendly, just
focussed on his liege's demands. He would only stay one night, he
continued to dress in a confection of black leather and silver chains no
matter what the weather, and without fail, found a welcome respite in
Mabast's home.
I chomped at the bit to see this Immanion, and I threw myself into the
exhausting dedication to my caste work. Vaysh was more advanced than I
was, and spent much of his daily time with Kyrgian. I was entrusted to
Iolethe's care. Our educations were uniquely flavoured as we spent
more than a few evenings with Firestorm and Cloudblaze, drinking deeply
of the wisdom of their human tribal ancestry. A rustic sauna had been
built; that spring Vaysh, Jaffa, Parallax and I met with Firestorm,
Cloudblaze and Firethorn for weekly cleansings of spirit and body.
Sometimes the simple pleasure of chatting in friendly conversation was
refreshment enough.
Castlegar had emerged like a butterfly from a cocoon into a thriving, if
relatively intimate community, complete with a weekly market out on the
fields near the small lake and shrine to the Aghama. Goods and artistic
outpourings of surprising variety, considering our populace, were
available for barter or trade. We didn't have any true currency
except in the skills and time to offer one another. Our hara were
resourceful and talented: you could find everything from crafted leather
shoes to hand-designed and built fanciful wooden furniture; inks and
pressed paper; kites to fly colourfully on the wind.
One morning I was haggling with a particularly inspired artisan over a
ring. It was bold, set with citrine and amber. I'd seen Vaysh fawn
over it in weeks prior, trying to come to a satisfactory trade with the
jeweller. All at once, Arahal interrupted me via mind-touch.
Thiede is here. It's time for you to come to
Immanion.
My shock and zeal must have shown on my face, as the har asked me if I
was okay.
"Yes, but I've got to go. Please take this ring off
display," I pleaded, and my tone, or rank, seemed enough for him to
agree. "I've been called away, but I promise I'll come to
an acceptable payment for it."
"I'll be sure to come up with something!" he called out
suggestively, and my step faltered for a moment.
Maybe he was joking. Maybe not— no hara were totally exclusive in
rooning, of course, it was just that I'd not been approached even in
jest by anyone outside of an elite group in quite some time. Parallax
wasn't a stranger to Vaysh's and my bed. After particularly
gruelling spiritual exercises, at times I'd given myself over to
Jaffa or Polaris, both vibrant souls with whom aruna was exuberant and
playful.
Where are you? I asked Arahal, stopping in my tracks and
wondering if I had time to go to my rooms to tidy up.
Out at the stables. Just come as you are.
I shrugged, and strode quickly away to the barns and lush fields. My
mind swarmed with fanciful images, thankfully brought to rest when I
approached the stables. There were four sedim, their
glorious bearing almost too much to stare at for too long. Vaysh stroked
the neck of one, his obvious love for horses evident in his worshipful
reverie. Thiede looked on with proud bemusement, dressed in flowing
robes of copper and azure. Arahal, in a shocking change of pace, wore
deep turquoise leather pants, though the black web of laces still
adorned his strong torso. Lambent peacock feathers winked in his hair
and copper chains flashed around his neck and hung from his ears. It was
a pity Mabast wasn't here to see him like this!
"Today you'll see the beginnings of Immanion," Thiede
said, gliding past Vaysh with a gentle touch to the small of his back.
Vaysh reached up and tugged at the hair at his neck, the gesture one I
knew meant he was nervous and preoccupied.
Standing in front of me, I realised Thiede wasn't too much taller
than I was, though I felt dwarfed in comparison with his knowledge and
seemingly careless ease with which he carried himself. It occurred to me
how regal he was, and like any shrewd leader, he was hand picking the
most useful and potentially loyal subjects to serve in his own kind of
court— all done with a nod to beauty, I noted, as I glanced over
at Vaysh, his red hair rippling in the fragrant spring air.
"Congratulations on your progress," he said. I felt he
evaluated me from my choice of tunic to the beating centre of my
heart's intents. "To ride a sedu, you must let
him guide you. Give over absolutely to him; they know the routes through
the aethers, so trust them. And hold on," he said with a wicked
smile.
"What are their names? And what are they really?" Vaysh asked
as the sedu appointed for him nuzzled at his palm.
"This one is Tassia. You need to open your mind to him. Go ahead
and mount up— Immanion awaits."
Vaysh caught my eye, his face flushed with excitement or fear, I
couldn't tell.
"You must connect with your sedu," Thiede was saying as
I stepped into a stirrup and threw my leg up and over the creature.
"I wish we weren't going so far, this first time, but
there's nothing for it," he went on cheerfully. "Let
yourself be guided. These sedim know the paths well. Hold on, but
above all, focus. Align your intentions with them, and don't be
swayed by visions you may see out in the vapors. Follow
me!"
It's impossible to put into words how that first voyage felt. I
opened my mind and nearly recoiled in shock at the alien intelligence
Zephyr possessed. There was movement and rushing winds until all at once
we were all linked, Thiede's vast power forming a link for hara and
sedim alike and the universe cavorted around us. The trip took
forever and yet no time at all; I clung blindly to Zephyr as we rode
through freezing stardust, haunted by ululating alien wraiths. Like
flickering shadows I saw Monarch, leaning in his doorframe with a
pitying smile; Euclase whittling a piece of wood with a mournful face
before cutting out his heart, the pulsing muscle changing to a
pomegranate in Vaysh's hand, his eyes dancing as he flung the seeds
as stars into the triumphant, flashing cavern of space.
Down and through and out— I nearly choked on the sea-scented air
when I came to, back in our earthly realm. Shocked, I discovered I still
clutched Zephyr's reins in a death grip, ice clinging to my hair and
fingers. The horses thundered onto solid ground; I heard Vaysh's
joyous, unfettered laugh tinkling on my ears. The sedim seemed
invigorated by the journey, as did I, though the faint shadow of a
headache pressed behind my eyes. After the frigid shears of the
otherlanes, the balm of salty air in my lungs caused my blood to thaw
and two shudders wracked my body.
"How do you feel?" Arahal asked as I turned my face to the
warming sun.
"A bit discombobulated."
"That was fucking unbelievable!" Vaysh exclaimed, his eyes mad
with euphoria and his hair a vibrant, tousled mess. I knew he'd been
affected even more profoundly than I had; he was usually far more
careful about his language, unless in the heat of the moment of taking
aruna, that is.
"Isn't it?" Thiede said, seeming for an instant like a
giddy child showing off a treasured gift. He canted up next to Vaysh to
reach out and stroke his hand and Vaysh beamed, his face as dazzling as
sunrise on a snowfield. They rode together, two porcelain figures with
waterfalls of crimson hair. I felt a stab of worry, a lightning-fast
dagger wound to my pride. I tried to shake it off, but I felt bruised,
the grit of jealousy never completely leaving my mouth until we returned
to Castlegar.
We rode down a grassy slope toward a bay, the air tangy with salt and
sweet scent of cypress. Vaysh and Thiede chatted animatedly while Arahal
and I travelled more or less in silence. I could see human influence
still holding sway in some of the houses that clustered near the
cerulean waters, but it didn't seem to be sinking into the same
tortured decay we saw in Megalithica. As we rounded a curve, the
shimmering outlines of Immanion spun elegantly from the sun-kissed
earth. The scale of it was breathtaking, made all the more so because it
was obviously only in the earliest stages of construction. I was no
architect, but through flights of imagination — or visions planted
by Thiede himself — I could see the yet unbuilt curving spires,
the minarets and balconies, fountains and groves of shade trees,
gleaming stone of onyx and marble, mosaics and pools in a realm in which
the very stones breathed their order and beauty with the scent of
jasmine.
Thiede turned around, caught my eye, and smiled. This was his harling,
forming a perfect, living space of Wraeththu. Pride streamed from him
with persimmon ribbons. Just as Thiede often was larger than life, his
vision made physically manifest overwhelmed the senses. I remembered his
words: 'What I want, I get.' Perhaps there was no one har who
could contain his procreation; instead, there would be fruit of his mind
and heart, rather than his loins. Again, I wondered how much of these
lofty thoughts were mine, and if some were being conveniently place
there by him.
There was an extended tour, time spent poring over scrolls of designs
and sketches, partially the product of a human architect, I was
surprised to hear. Later, over a scrumptious meal of mild cheeses,
savoury fruits and tart wine, I asked Thiede point blank about his past.
To my shock and Vaysh's delight, for once he was forthcoming, at
least to the degree he was ever willing to be.
"Like both of you, I was made in Megalithica and like you, I was
part of no particular tribe," Thiede stated factually before
allowing himself to reminisce. "Those were dangerous, thrilling,
glorious nightmares of days. I had a small group; we spread and grew in
number, but never sought outright battles against humans. The world was
descending into madness, and I had no desire to be taken down quickly
with it. We transformed angry youths, wild punks and Goths, the outcasts
and rebels into a gorgeous, death-defying brotherhood. Sadly, some of
them spurned their gifts. Tribes broke off and rather than rising above
humanity, rather than cherishing our near-immortality and wanting to
pursue goals and enterprises simply unfathomable to humanity, poor,
pathetic race that was trying — and as you know, failing —
to retain its supremacy on the earth, instead they became megalomaniacs.
They bred psychopaths and sycophants. Destruction as its own end was
their primary endeavour: swarm over the lands, kill, incept anyone
whenever possible, rape and murder if inception proved impossible,
create mayhem and start petty wars among each other. They became
absolutely no better than bullies, turning on each other and
unforgivably squandering such a gift as has never been seen before on
this planet."
Vaysh reached under the table to take my hand. He was moved by
Thiede's impassioned speech; I squeezed his fingers in
sympathy.
"I grew tired of watching them, some like bulls in an already
ruined china shop, others too dull to fully appreciate or value this
treasure. I could tell that I needed to begin anew, and so here I am. I
keep tabs on those still in Megalithica, of course. I'm not fond of
the cold, regardless," he said, one side of his lips quirking
upward.
"This climate suits me. I am influential on all hara, but I have
only our best interests at heart," he went on, his voice fervent
like a zealot. "Here I'll bring only the most extraordinary of
Wraeththu kind, plucking them from all over the world to create a garden
unrivaled by any this world has seen. It's my dream, my dear Vaysh
and Ashmael. I have the ability to cause dreams to become realities so
potent and vital that were I to let you in on even a tenth of it, your
heads would positively explode with shock."
I doubted this, but I admired him for being so cocky. To get to where I
currently sat, I'd travelled via a way that had been totally
inconceivable before today, and if Thiede had discovered it and managed
to teach it to others, God only knew what else he had designs on for our
fledgling race. In that moment I made up my mind voluntarily to become a
part of his plan. I took a sip of wine and fastened my gaze on Thiede
who seemed to be waiting for me to speak.
"I'd like to flatter myself and say that even if I chose not to
be a part of your shining city on a hill, that my strength would be such
to resist you. However, I doubt that's the case, and I doubt even
more that you'd allow such dissent. I do have reservations, but
I'll come. Your methods of coercion are becoming legendary, but so
are your ideals. I've felt I was being groomed for something—
perhaps this is it. Perhaps you've been manipulating me all
along," I said a bit in challenge.
Thiede arched a fiery eyebrow. "I'll never admit it. Well, not
yet, anyway."
Arahal chuckled softly into his wineglass. I suspected he'd been one
of Thiede's confidantes from the beginning, or as close to the
beginning as either of them would reveal.
"Who incepted you?" Vaysh asked brazenly.
"Yes, the question everyhar wants to know." A sly smile graced
Thiede's lips, but I thought I saw the tiniest flash of sorrow in
his eyes, gone in an instant. "It's one of the great mysteries,
and not one I'll reveal just now."
Just then a har of exquisite beauty even by our rarified standards
entered the room. I sensed Vaysh's defenses clanging up around him
as he did when he felt a potential rival appear.
"Ah, Velaxis," Thiede crooned. "Thank you for stopping
by. This is Ashmael and Vaysh, as you know."
"Welcome to Almagabra, tiahaar," he said graciously, inclining
his long neck with the grace of a swan. His heavy hair was a white
brilliant as titanium dioxide. "Are you in need of
anything?"
"Velaxis is my personal assistant," Thiede said. It was
stultifyingly obvious that this har, no matter his title, wielded a
tremendous amount of clout. He nodded in greeting to Arahal and looked
at us with detached expectation.
"Are we staying?" Vaysh asked, the question purposefully open
to interpretation.
"Is that your preference?" Thiede queried back
sweetly.
"We didn't tell anyone we'd be gone," I began before
realising that I spoke only for myself. "I didn't,
anyway."
"You travelled a tremendous distance," Arahal said, speaking
up after a long silence. "It would probably be best for you to
spend the night, at the very least."
"Your own hilltop community needs to learn to get along without
you," Thiede said pointedly.
"Yes, but some of our best hara are on an extended scouting
mission," I said a bit peevishly. I'd said that I'd join
his new vision, and presumably Vaysh would as well, but I wanted to do
this on my terms. "Still, one night should be fine. Vaysh, does
that suit you?"
Velaxis scoured Vaysh with a clinical once-over much like a butcher
evaluating a cut of meat. Vaysh sat up straighter, giving Velaxis a
haughty, defiant glare in return. "That's fine. I would love a
bath though. Could that be arranged?"
"It would be my pleasure. I'll have one of the house-hara
escort you both to a set of rooms." The willowy har flicked a
glance at Thiede, and I had no doubt they were communicating
privately.
Vaysh and I spent the rest of the afternoon taking a leisurely nap after
a luxurious soak in a marble tub set into the floor of our bathroom
suite. That evening the four of us dined together again, a late meal
taken outdoors in the balmy evening. Once we'd eaten our fill,
Thiede expressed his wish to go on a private walk with Vaysh. I
immediately sought him through mind-touch, but he gently rebuked
me.
I can hold my own, you remember, he said, but there was little
sting to the words.
Once they'd gone, Velaxis again appeared, this time with a bottle of
some liqueur I'd not had before. Arahal asked him to join us but he
begged off, demurely explaining that he had other matters which required
his attention. Arahal and I spent a couple of hours drinking the exotic
beverage that smelled strongly of liquorice and had an oily consistency.
The taste grew on me, as did Arahal's company, perhaps due to the
alcohol loosening our tongues. We were getting on like fast friends when
Vaysh and Thiede returned and Arahal pushed the last third of the bottle
into my hand before I left.
My spirits were light and my heart expansive as Vaysh pulled me out on
the balcony that opened off of our room.
"Ash, look," he said excitedly, pointing up at the sky.
"It's a meteor shower. Very auspicious, don't you
think?"
"As much as anything. You're the one who planted the thought in
my head that there are no coincidences, you know."
He pulled me to him, sucking my lower lip into his mouth, running his
tongue over it before sliding his tongue into my awaiting mouth. The
passionate kiss became a sharing of breath, which in turn became an
incendiary taking of aruna; Vaysh held on to the balcony, staring at the
stars and sounding like a wildcat in heat while I stood behind him,
burying myself in his scorching depths.
The next afternoon we returned to Castlegar, all four of us. Arahal left
his sedu in the starry-eyed hands of the young stable-har, which
I knew meant he would soon be seeking out his Unneah companion. He'd
returned to his usual all black ensemble, but the showy peacock feathers
still graced his hair. I idly wondered if I'd see one or two of the
opalescent feathers tucked into Mabast's chestnut hair in the coming
days.
Thiede, Vaysh and I took a long stroll through the sacred greeny space
of the forest. I almost wanted to reach out and take Thiede's hand;
though he was a har and presumably as sensual as any of us, he radiated
an aura of physical distance that I didn't want to violate. In
silence we walked along paths strewn with bark and fern fronds, birds
occasionally calling one another and hearing the snapping of twigs as
deer, hidden from the eye, travelled in the woods. From my childhood
religious upbringing, I had a keen sense of being in the Garden of Eden,
before the snake had appeared, before knowledge had been consumed. Vaysh
and I were walking in the lands with a Creator, out in the dusky
gloaming of the day; he loved us, and he would have us be at his side in
his new Paradise.
He wouldn't wait forever for us to take up residence in Almagabra,
however, and I knew I didn't want to go until after the next
Natalia. This would be done on his timeline, I suspected. If it took
placing an angelic looking har at the gate of Castlegar with a flaming
sword in his hand, barring us re-admittance, then I had no doubt that
was what would happen.
* * * * *
"Saltrock."
I blew out the word in a stream of cigarette smoke.
Out in the small lake, Ondin continued to float in the patched-up inner
tube he'd managed to repair using methods I couldn't begin to
fathom. "What about it?"
Parallax swam up behind him before letting out a triumphant yell. He
cupped his hands and slammed them into the water so that a small wave
soaked Ondin's left side.
"ARRRRGH!" Ondin spluttered as Parallax gave an evil laugh. He
swam away on his back, kicking more water at him in the process.
"You know this means war!"
"Bring it on!" Parallax taunted as he got to shore. He pulled
himself up on one of the small boulders and stood aggressively,
gesturing at his chest. He shimmied just a bit and my eyes couldn't
help watching his dancing ouana-lim as it slapped from thigh to thigh.
He really had been blessed with a great many gifts.
I took another drag off of my cigarette. It was a perfect summer day:
hot, but not oppressively humid, enough of a breeze that the insects
weren't swarming. It was a market day so I didn't feel the need
to be roaming the Castlegar grounds or doing anything that remotely
resembled business. I'd wanted to bend Ondin's ear much more in
depth about their months spent at the other solitary outpost, as well as
other aspects of their trip. At breakfast I'd suggested that we take
our horses and go out to a secluded natural pool down the mountain.
Parallax had been eavesdropping and managed to wheedle his way into the
outing. I didn't mind; I felt he should know what was really going
on. I hadn't said as much to him, or anyhar for that matter, but I
hoped to bring him to Immanion as well, as my own personal aide. Thiede
had one, and besides, Thiede had seemed serious enough about adding
Parallax to his list of fawning acolytes. Or potentially useful hara,
whichever.
"What do you think was so compelling about Saltrock that made them
want to say?" I asked Ondin, reviving my line of thought.
"I don't know. It seemed a bit more rustic, fewer rules, a bit
more like the wild west?" Ondin offered. His gaze had also drawn to
Parallax, who'd come over to sprawl by me, bumming a cigarette and
showing off his rather masculine glory. "To be honest, I think they
wanted to make more of a name for themselves. Belvac has felt like
he's in your shadow, held back, I guess. In Saltrock he and Abelard
can do whatever the fuck they want, and their skills are definitely
needed. I don't think it's really all that
personal."
I snorted at that. It wasn't the end of the world that they'd
decided to stay, leaving all of their personal possessions here in
Castlegar unless they decided they absolutely couldn't live without
some knickknack or sentimental treasure. But after two and a half years
of having hara be drawn to Castlegar, if I were being honest with
myself, it stung my pride that someone from my original clan had
defected to another outpost of harish life. Then again, Belvac and I had
been butting heads for months. Perhaps it was better that he and his
equally enigmatic lover had decided to stay in Saltrock. Our shouting
matches during Regents' conferences had almost become regular enough
to be an agenda item.
"Had Thiede visited Saltrock?" Parallax asked Ondin, now
taking a drink from the wine bottle that trailed after him, bobbing in
the water.
"I don't know. They already have somebody really powerful
there, Orien. I talked about him at the Regents' meeting," he
reminded Parallax.
"I know. But that was a more formal event. Now we're just three
hara, friends, sometimes more
" he let the words drift off as
he looked up at me and raised his eyebrows.
I gave a reciprocal acknowledgement.
"We should have a name." Parallax stated.
"What?" Ondin asked.
"A name. Ahalenia and Eleu, and little Lemmy, of course,
they're Colurastes. Mabast is Unneah. There are the Varrs just north
of us, and you all told us about the Kakkahaar further south of
Saltrock," he went on, gesturing at Ondin with a newly lit
cigarette. "I've talked with Blaze, Firestorm and even Thorn on
my own, and they shared with me the name of their human ancestral tribe.
They were Chickasaw. But we don't have a name," he finished,
his brow furrowed. "I think we should."
"Thiede and Arahal don't seem to have a tribal name," I
said reasonably. "A name doesn't make you more or less
Wraeththu."
"The hara at Saltrock don't either." Ondin paddled to
shore, where he engineered a makeshift shade and helped himself to more
wine. "But you have a good point. We could use a
self-identifier."
"Shouldn't things like that happen naturally?" I
asked.
"What, like inceptions? Or our race in general?"
Parallax's voice held no malice, just dark humour.
"What name would you deem appropriate?"
He mused for a time and finally looked at me, giving a rueful shrug.
"Don't know. But I'll think about it."
"No doubt!" Ondin said with a short laugh and a warm
smile.
"It's good to have you back," I said to my old friend.
"And a bit jealous of all that you experienced."
"Well, I'm glad to be back, though you've apparently had
your own share of highly unique adventures!"
I huffed a laugh at that and beckoned at his wine bottle.
"When do the Kakkahaar arrive?" Parallax asked, now sitting
cross-legged. He'd pulled his bag of beads and hand tools to him and
begun working on an intricate armband.
"In a couple of weeks."
I was both intrigued and no small bit wary of their upcoming visit. They
had taken in our hara as guests, however, and we needed to return the
favour. Besides, I wanted us to have allies. Even though we'd not
had direct run-ins with the Varrs, or Uigenna, since the attack which
had claimed Monarch's life, I was under no illusion that the peace
would last. News of our presence would travel; it was bound to. There
weren't nearly enough of us to take on a fully armed battalion,
especially if, as both the Kakkahaar and residents of Saltrock had told
our envoys, the Varrs were actively pursuing the dark avenues of magic
our race possessed. Then again, according to Opequon's private
discussion with me once the triumvirate chesnari had returned without
Belvac and Abelard, the Kakkahaar were doing far more than dabble in
dark arts themselves.
"Did they have any harlings?" I asked Ondin, the question
having just popped into my head. I was beginning to correlate tribal
spiritual advancement with harlings as evidence, though I'd only
said such a thing aloud to Vaysh.
"Not that we saw," he replied, pulling his knees to his chest
and resting his head on his knees. "But for all of their
hospitality— and I'll say it again, Ash, they were very
hospitable —"
I sensed Parallax's attentions snap to attention, like a fox
suddenly sniffing a tasty scent.
"They're a secretive tribe," Ondin continued. "Still,
I think if they had managed to generate new harish life like that, from
the feelings I got, they would have had the child on display.
They're really private, and I didn't truly relax the entire time
we were with them. They're quite proud."
"Very astute, Ondin. And since you are, I have another question.
I'd like your opinion too, Parallax."
"All you need to do is ask!" he said with a beguiling
smile.
"And so I am. Ondin, the scarabs you and your chesnari have have
inspired me, as well as some of the tribal markings on Blaze and
Firestorm. I'm thinking of asking Wycker to draw one for me, about
Vaysh. I just can't seem to come up with just one
symbol."
"Ashmael," Ondin drawled, his face gleeful. "How
romantic! I'm shocked! How very unlike you."
"That's not true!" I blustered. "I don't feel the
need to shout my feelings from the rooftop, but I do unexpected things
for him not infrequently."
"You want the tattoo to be about Vaysh? Or the two of you,
together?" Parallax asked, still busily threading beads on a tiny
loom.
"Just him."
"What about a horse?" Ondin suggested. "Or the horse
constellation since he's fond of astronomy. Or maybe you two
aren't looking at stars at all when you spend time up at that
tower."
I didn't answer that, but saw a conspiratorial smile traipse on
Parallax's lips. The three of us had repaired one of the telescopes
in the former astronomy tower but we'd also taken advantage of the
privacy and novelty to take aruna a few times as well.
"Pegasus," Parallax said. "A flying horse. That'd be
a good choice— it has the constellation idea, and a horse that
gallops through the skies, like that one that Arahal rides. Vaysh
couldn't stop talking about your unbelievable trip through space or
however you got to Immanion. His tone of voice when he talked about
Tassia was eerily similar to how he sounds when he talks about
you," he said with a wry smile. "When he's feeling
generous, anyway."
"What do you think he would get? For me?" I asked, thinking I
might really do this and wanting to give Vaysh suggestions if he felt
like doing something similarly permanent. Oddly enough we hadn't
talked about a blood-binding ceremony, or even spoken aloud about trying
to conceive a harling; I guessed that Vaysh felt as I did after
Immanion, which was that those two events would occur once we were
there. We'd have Thiede's approval and even participation, at
least in regards to a blood-binding ceremony.
"Vaysh is not getting a tattoo," Ondin declared, easing out
from his rigged shelter to go and retrieve another bottle of wine from
its tethered point near the edge of the water.
"You're underestimating him," Parallax challenged.
"He's more innately soume than I am," I said, "but
he's fearless. I've never seen him shirk from anything
dangerous."
"Still, I don't know that he would. He's quite vain about
his flawless pale skin," Parallax went on with a disdainful shrug.
His own skin had tanned to a dark, tawny gold. "But if I were him,
or if I were chesna with you, I'd probably ask Wycker to ink in a
sword, since you're so into defense. Maybe a sword with ivy twisted
around it, or on the blade or something."
"I still say he'd never agree to it," Ondin said, handing
me the bottle of wine.
"Is that a bet?"
"Certainly!" he said, eyes dancing. "But it can't be
forever. Since our bodies are so hardy, we might live to be two hundred
years old! I bet Vaysh won't get a tattoo to do with you or anyone
else in the next year."
"That's not very long!"
"A lot can happen in a year."
"Okay, fine. But what are the terms?"
"You don't need terms," Parallax scoffed.
"Of course we do," Ondin said. "You have that really nice
leather coat, the dark maroon one. If I win, and after a year
Vaysh's skin is as pristine as ever, I get the coat."
"Hmmmph." I really did love that coat, and wasn't sure I
wanted it to be a part of this silly bet. I'd started it, though,
and I couldn't back down now. "Well, you have that pistol with
the mother of pearl set in the handle. If I win, I get it."
He looked at me with incredulity.
"Tiahaar!" Parallax said, shaking his head. "You're
being way too serious. Ashmael, if you lose, you should dye your hair
blue for a few months or something. Or run laps around the chancellery
in the nude."
Ondin snickered.
"And you, Ondin, if you lose, you'll have to cook Ash's
favourite three course meal, or cook personally for him and Vaysh for a
week. None of this ridiculous favourite coat and pistol
bullshit."
"I think Ashmael would look stunning if he had green hair,
actually," Ondin said brightly.
"All right. One year from now, high midsummer of
well, next
year. If Vaysh has a tattoo, you cook for me for a week. And I get a
massage a day."
Ondin groaned, but nodded.
"If he doesn't, then I'll dye my hair green and keep it
that way for a month or so."
"Don't forget the laps!" Parallax said, grinning.
"Nobody wants to see me run around like an idiot in the nude,"
I insisted, but Parallax's expression seemed to indicate otherwise.
"Fine."
Snatches of that conversation still peppered my thoughts when I went to
Wycker a few days later. I had a drawing from Parallax in hand and a few
strands of Vaysh's hair taken from his hairbrush.
"Are you sure you want his actual essence in the ink?" he
asked uncertainly when I explained why I had the hair.
"Of course," I said, defensive. Then I realised he was just
trying to look out for me. "We're chesna. We haven't jumped
into a blood-binding, but I don't doubt we'll do that in the
future as a formality."
"Well, if you're certain
" he said, looking
relieved.
It was exquisite, a rather tribal looking Pegasus, the shape of the
constellation visible within the overall form. Even after it healed it
remained faintly warm to the touch, a legacy of the magical infusion of
Vaysh's hair. His blood would have made it even more potent —
and vibrant — but I couldn't get any from him without him
asking why. Once I unveiled the tattoo to Vaysh, he said he loved it. He
kept insisting that I walk around shirtless so he could admire it, inked
across my left shoulder blade, opposite my heart. To Ondin's
chagrin, he lost the bet far sooner than he imagined when Vaysh sought
out Firethorn and Wycker and got his own. It was a narrow, intertwining
plait around his left bicep in colours of red, green and purple. He said
the red was for him, the purple for me and the green to symbolise
growth, all bound up together. The two of us ate quite well for a week
and Ondin, to his credit, didn't complain. Much.
Three emissaries from the Kakkahaar came in the waning, sultry days of
summer, welcomed with a large feast and live music by Thorn, Jaffa and a
couple of others who had made a band of sorts. After a week or so for
them to get used to our very different environment and rather eclectic
host of hara, they began giving instruction to a dozen or so individuals
particularly gifted in the spiritual and esoteric powers. Vaysh,
Parallax and Firethorn were avid students, also Mabast and others who
had come to the mountain in the past year. The Kakkahaar slowly became
more open and less isolationist as the first month went on. They also
met regularly with our own spiritual leaders. They were fascinated by
Firethorn and his sirelings as well as Lemuel, but they were only this
side of frosty with the two adult Colurastes.
Everyone in Castlegar came out for a full day and night of bacchanalian
revelry at the autumnal equinox. At the geographic heart of our
community there was all kinds of food, singing, copious amounts of wine
and all other varieties of alcohol, dancing, and hara dressed in their
finest, tightest clothes. Those with skills in tailoring and jewellery
making must have engaged in a brisk trade given the parading hara all
decked out. Some were ostentatious, but others were more simply clad
though elegant in a less fussy way. The scent of aruna and swirling
perfumes of desire and lust hung like a thick velvet canopy over the
grounds.
Vaysh and I certainly weren't immune. We took a somewhat drunken
walk out to the viewing area I loved so much and were delighted to
discover no one else was there. One thing led to another, and soon one
of my nicest tunics was covered in grass stains. I didn't care
because Vaysh was spread out on it like a luscious, ripe peach. I licked
and kissed and drank down his juices while the stars watched
impassively. I crawled up from between his trembling thighs to nip and
nuzzle at the band inked around his arm. In a throaty voice, he demanded
that I kneel near his face. What a wicked, talented tongue he had. My
ouana-lim flowered as he swallowed and swirled his tongue around my hard
length; the petals curled back so no sensitive spot was held hidden from
him.
When neither of us could bear the relative separation any longer, I
knee-walked back down to the beckoning vee of his legs and sank into
him. His body welcomed me; I wanted to bury myself forever in the
grasping, fierce coals of his passion. Like diamond smoke, his desire
poured into me as we shared breath; as once before, I was drawn with him
into enchanted wilds of plum and musky shadow. Deep within my ouana-lim,
I felt as though a spring had snapped— a butterfly tongue
unfurled, and I drowned in the warm silver of Vaysh's eyes.
Yes, Ashmael, yes, he said without speaking as a secret chamber
deep within him began to open, rapture blazing from his face.
Without warning, we both felt a painful shock, a resounding, silent
clang as a force from outside of us barred Vaysh's pulsing centre of
creation. Even as I looked in his panicked eyes, our arunic energies
were stirred up into a pleasure so intense I screamed with it. Our
bodies spasmed and shook as our unbearable ecstasy roared and stretched
relentlessly on until I thought we would be ripped apart. Dizzy, ghostly
stars danced in my peripheral vision. After long minutes the thundering
waves of our release subsided and we lay on the ground, gasping like
nearly drowned hara spat out of the sea.
I was crying; I choked out hiccoughing, syrupy sobs of anger into
Vaysh's wreck of hair. I knew with all of my heart what that should
have been and who had halted it so abruptly.
"Damn you Thiede, you bastard!" I growled brokenly, clutching
Vaysh to me and trying to stop my hands from shaking.
"Shhhhh, Ash, it's okay. More than him, I felt
ours," he whispered, which caused more tears to stain my
face. "He's still there. This wasn't the
time."
"What kind of fucking god does Thiede think he is to decide when is
right?" I ground out bitterly until all at once, my anger was
scoured away. I felt battered and ravaged, chewed up and most
importantly, warned.
Vaysh was my angel, somehow consoling me when he'd been just as
mauled, just as violated. He'd felt that secret, sweet harbour open
its gates to me for the first time—
"Next time we'll know, for certain," he said softly,
running a hand through my hair and the other fanned out on my tattoo,
the spot thrumming warmly with his spirit. "Our son should be
delivered in Immanion. Thiede must want him conceived there, too. He
wants us Ash, so much." His tender voice tore at my heart
with the edge of a jagged knife.
Wrapped in Vaysh's wings of comfort, I cried again. I wasn't
sure which he Vaysh meant.
* * * * *
Another glorious autumn spread its colourful cheer over the mountain,
but I was preoccupied and didn't marvel at the display as I had the
prior two years. I felt Thiede's presence not infrequently, and
sensed him distantly watching us, though his focus seemed primarily to
be on Vaysh. For several weeks after our experience at the equinox, I
held back when we took aruna, unwilling to experience that heartbreak
again. I now knew how it felt to be climbing to that plane of
consciousness, and we were both careful not to allow ourselves near that
path. Eventually I began readying myself to leave Castlegar and as I
did, I was aware of doors opening for me, of difficult situations
resolving themselves. I marvelled, yet again, at how powerful
Thiede's desires must be if they could grease the wheels of life
itself. Arahal even spoke at the Regents' assembly at which Vaysh
and I formally announced that we would depart for Immanion a few days
after Natalia. Our harbrethren were going to miss us, but we promised to
return to visit, and Arahal extended the arm of hospitality on
Thiede's behalf to any who wished to see us once we were settled
in.
Winter had just curled its frosty toes into the ground when we had
another leaving feast. This one was for the Kakkahaar, who were quite
ready to return to their desert climes. Parallax and Galen, one of the
two nearly dead hara we'd found in that ramshackle barn a year ago,
went with them to continue their caste studies. The night before they
left, Vaysh and I invited Parallax to our bed, exhausting him in the
fiercest, most loving way possible.
"They're so good at mind-touch, over incredibly long
distances," he informed us later. We'd curled around each other
in front of the fire like sluggish snakes under the sun. "I should
be able to communicate with you, at least until you're across the
waters. I'm not sure after that."
"You just learn all you can," Vaysh encouraged him, his pale,
delicate fingers combing gently through the tight curls at
Parallax's groin. "Before you know it, you'll be summoned
to Immanion, too. What a reunion that'll be!"
"We have a last Natalia to experience here," I reminded him.
"Vox and Polaris said it'll be especially memorable. Pity
you'll miss it," I said to Parallax, leaning in to nibble
teasingly on his earlobe. He groaned, the baritone of his voice
roughened by his vocal enthusiasm through the night.
"You two have worn me out. I won't want to think about rooning
again for ages!" he said, a sensual smile gliding onto his lips as
he stretched out his long limbs.
"I don't doubt that the Kakkahaar will give in-depth
instruction in every skill they pride themselves," Vaysh said
silkily, his fingers toying with the girth of Parallax's ouana-lim.
"And they are a very prideful tribe."
Parallax turned his head to me, his hazel eyes awash in mirth and
gratitude. There was none of the angry, smart-mouthed human at whose
head I'd held a gun those seasons ago; he'd truly blossomed into
an extraordinary har.
I'll look forward to you joining us in Immanion, whenever that
is, I said to him telepathically.
One thing at a time, he said blithely, his ouana-lim
brought expertly back to full flower in Vaysh's skilled fingers.
"Didn't you mention something about tying me to your
bed?"
* * * * *
Natalia was a lively, raucous celebration as it had been in years past,
though Thiede didn't appear. Arahal did, though he now seemed like
an honorary resident of Castlegar rather than a guest. He brought a
powerful har with him named Tharmifex, whom I took a liking to
immediately. We arranged to meet for breakfast at a reasonable hour the
next day before Polaris, with the subtlety of a wolf among sheep, led
him away.
Early the following morning, I was awakened by a strange sound I
couldn't place. It was eerily quiet, with a tinkling noise tapping
on the roof. Vaysh's eyes fluttered open when I got out of bed and
he pulled the covers around himself. Looking out of our windows I saw a
surreal, frozen landscape— ice blanketed every surface, glinting
in the watery dawn. Plinking notes of tiny frozen pellets danced through
the hushed air; it was a wonderland of translucent beauty.
"What is it?" Vaysh asked sleepily.
"An ice storm," I said, shaking my head. "It's
beautiful."
"Is it worth getting out of bed for?"
"I'd say so."
After a time, curiosity got the better of him, and with a bit of
grumbling, he pulled on a dressing gown and joined me, gazing out at the
trees, encrusted and frozen. Each surface was a hardened mirror,
glittering and silent.
"It's gorgeous," he breathed. "We've got to go
out for a walk. It'll warm up and be gone by mid-day, don't you
think?" he asked, all at once a flurry of activity.
"It's pretty cold," I said, but I put on my coat and
boots, woolen trousers and tunic. "I've never seen anything
like it. It's very different from snow."
I took a quick turn in our bathroom, and was surprised to see Vaysh
busying himself in the kitchen when I got out.
"Thought I'd put some coffee on so it'll be ready when we
get back," he explained. We'd found several unexpected and
welcome containers of oil over time and most residences now had working
generators. Things that had been luxuries when he'd first arrived
were now far more commonplace.
"Awfully nice of you," I said and he gave me a wry
smile.
"I like you better after your first cup of coffee."
" I like me better after my first cup of coffee," I
agreed as we left the house.
My feet skated and I nearly took a nosedive my first few steps; it took
me scant seconds to develop a very healthy appreciation for just how
slick the ground was. I warned Vaysh even though he was already quite
aware of the treacherous surface under our boots. With shuffling steps,
we slowly, cautiously made our way across the courtyard, and then the
paved road with its many gaping potholes. The sun wasn't far above
the horizon and not very bright, but the effect of any light on the
shining branches and shrubs was breathtaking.
"This is unbelievable!" Vaysh said, turning around to gesture
at me, a wide smile on his face. He almost lost his footing and slid,
nearly stumbling to the frozen ground. His expression snapped to one of
intense concentration.
"Be careful!" My heart raced from seeing his near catastrophe.
"As beautiful as it is, one misstep and you'll be flat on your
ass. I don't want to try and carry you to see Ondin."
"I'm as agile as a cat," he insisted, but I noted
gratefully that he was far more cautious as we went into the woods. The
path was slightly more easy to traverse, and I held back a bit, taking
some time to look around at all of the naked branches, now clad in hard
shells of ice. The tinkling, melodious sounds were occasionally
overshadowed by a staccatoed barrage as a squirrel or bird shifted a
branch. There was the rare crack or groan as a tree complained under the
weight of the ice.
Vaysh had gone deeper into the alcove than I wished; my imagination had
already gone to Vox or Jaffa, trudging to the dining hall to make
breakfast, underestimating the elements, and falling. The sparkling ice
was beyond treacherous, and it might not melt until tomorrow, or the day
after, and most hara were probably hung over from Natalia—
I heard Vaysh let out a surprised cry and swear loudly as he fell. I
grimaced, and hoped to God he hadn't broken anything.
"Are you all right?" I called, shuffling as quickly as I
could, which wasn't very fast.
"Yes, but— ow. Fuck!"
I could see he was sprawled out on his stomach, arms stretched out and
trying to gain purchase somewhere, when I heard a resounding, thunderous
crack. I jerked my head to the side, trying to place where it came from.
My gaze whipped back in front of me and I shouted, my stomach clenched
instantly into a knot. I watched the terrible, inexorable motion of a
heavy limb as it fell, crushing Vaysh with a sickening explosion of ice
and cracking bone.
"VAYSH!"
I screamed his name, trying to run and sliding, falling, tears bursting
from my eyes as I scrambled to get to him. I scuttled on hands and
bruised, aching knees, calling his name again and again. Once I got
closer I saw the nauseating trajectory of the branch that had thudded
against his spine and skull. He was broken, shattered. With strength
borne from abject terror, I heaved the branch away, but the damage to
Vaysh's head was— I couldn't bear it. I could barely see
him; I couldn't focus through the wet sheen of my eyes. I sounded
like a wounded animal as I tried to hold him, blood everywhere.
"Vaysh, Vaysh, Vaysh, ohgodohgod, no, you can't, no, don't
go," I sobbed, trying to lift his bludgeoned head into my lap. I
saw his chest rise, and fall; clumsily I smeared matted clots of hair
out of his closed eyes.
"Vaysh," I pleaded, choking on bile. I was wheezing; the air
was a razor in my lungs and I coughed, unable to catch my breath. With
what must have been tremendous effort, Vaysh laboriously opened his
eyes, but I didn't think he could see me. Wild horror knifed clarity
into my thoughts: I needed him to know I was with him.
"Vaysh, it's me, your Ash. For the love of God, don't leave
me, I'm here, right here," I said hysterically. I was going
insane; Vaysh's blood soaked my lap. The pungent scent of so much
blood was an abomination. My vision started to go black, phantom stars
were crowding out the atrocity of my beloved, dying. I couldn't
move, only chanted his name, over and over and over as my reason seeped
into the unforgiving, scarlet stained ice.
A gurgle lodged in his throat; a thick, wet cough coated his mouth and
my fingers with more blood. He gasped and stilled, his unseeing gaze
locked on mine.
I screamed, bellowing anger and maniacal hopelessness until my voice was
a pitiful, unrecognisable mewl. I rocked him in my arms; the world
shattered into nightmarish crystalline shards of nothingness.
Vaysh was dead.
If you enjoyed this, please let me know! Email is thevina33 [at] gmail [dot] com. I'm also writing a sequel from Vaysh's POV, "Down the Whispering Well."
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