The Ghosts of Blood and Innocence

by Constantine, Storm

  Darq frowned. ‘Then what?’

  ‘Worlds are power sources,’ Thiede said. ‘Some beings can tap into and drink the life essence of a living, breathing world. No doubt there are beings beyond their perception that drink of them too. But as Wraeththu, all we need to concern ourselves with is those who stand above us in the hierarchy of creation. In return for sustenance, our world is fed with a different kind of energy that is creative and inspirational. It’s responsible for all the greatest breakthroughs in understanding and awareness. Under normal circumstances, the inhabitants of a world would remain unaware of this transaction. But something is happening that has changed that situation.’

  Thiede reached out and put a long-fingered hand on one of Darq’s thighs. ‘When you were created, it was at the conclusion of what amounts to a fairly small skirmish in a war for power. Those who have stood over us for millennia are being challenged for dominance, mainly because of us – Wraeththu. We are greater than humanity. We have the potential to perceive far more of reality than creatures of our level of existence would generally possess.’

  Darq was aware of the painful beat of his heart. He hardly dared breathe, in case the slightest sound reminded Thiede he should keep silent.

  Thiede smiled, probably having interpreted Darq’s feelings. ‘I said I wouldn’t speak of your parents, and I still won’t, in any great detail, but I’ve decided you should know that you were conceived deliberately. Your parents acted in haste and ignorance, obeying a drive without any comprehension of its source or reason. You were created as a magical creature, the sum of the essence of three hara, not two. Your body is a vessel that attracted a potent soul. You can’t remember any of this, because the rules of incarnation decree that all previous states of being are not recalled. But you can look upon yourself as an embodiment, or avatar, of the world itself; a concentration of its energies. Most of this potential is yet locked inside you, and should remain there. You are a beacon to those we should look upon as our allies – fearsome though they may be – and also those who are opposed to them. You should understand there is no compassion in our allies; we are a precious resource to them, that’s all, but they will defend us as long as it’s viable to do so. ‘

  Darq stared at Thiede, wide-eyed. ‘And this is why you sent me here?’

  Thiede nodded. ‘Yes. I’ve kept you here with Phade to protect you, to keep you from this bigger picture until you are mature and able to hold your own ground. I’m still unsure as to whether you should ever step forward to take part in any confrontation; you could be used against us by either side. But I have listened to my heart and it has spoken. This is why I’m telling you these things.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Darq said. ‘I will think about them.’

  Thiede smiled gently. ‘You’re such a grave soul Darq; you should enjoy a little light.’

  Darq grimaced, then shook his head. He did not want to discuss his state of being; it hardly interested him. ‘I want to tell you something too,’ he said. ‘Something that happened to me when I was very young.’

  ‘Of course.’

  Darquiel told Thiede the story of his visit to this very spot where they were sitting. ‘I was told there were four of me,’ he said. ‘In your opinion, would that refer to the fact I had three parents? Me being the fourth component?’

  Thiede narrowed his eyes in thought for a moment. ‘Perhaps, although…’ He paused and stared at Darq thoughtfully. ‘No… we must not focus on your family. Remember that powers beyond your perception are interested in you. You should mistrust any information that comes to you via psychic means. The way these powers manifest in this reality can be tricky; they speak in riddles and conundrums. It has always been so. You need to stand far back from them to see any sense. In my opinion, since you asked, I think that you were instilled with the idea at that time that you were part of something greater – which was no lie. It was designed to whet your interest, to keep you alert and hungry for similar messages.’

  ‘But I received no more after that time.’

  Thiede shrugged. ‘It could be that others were waiting, as I was, for you to reach maturity. Once you have access to aruna, your abilities become sharper and more potent. I think that whatever tried to contact you last night had the intention of sitting where I am sitting now, although the information you’d have received would have been somewhat different, I’m sure!’

  ‘That makes sense,’ Darq said. ‘I appreciate you speaking to me in this way. My whole life has been a fog of riddles, and Phade would never be honest with me. I know why now, of course, but it was still annoying.’

  ‘Phade knows little about you,’ Thiede said. ‘It was safer that way.’

  Darq nodded. He paused, then said, ‘How did you know where I’d come tonight? Was it my thoughts or the place itself that drew you?’

  ‘I just followed my nose,’ Thiede said. He reached out and took hold of a strand of Darq’s hair. ‘Darq, we are here for a reason.’

  ‘I know,’ Darq said. ‘I’m ready for whatever must happen.’

  ‘I hope so.’ Thiede smoothed his own hair, as if to bring Darq’s attention to his physical attractions. ‘I said to you that few can tolerate my essence, and that’s because it’s stronger, or perhaps just different, from that of most hara. I know it won’t damage you in any way, and for this reason tonight is special for me. For this one night, I am like any other har, alive in the spring, with the scent of the season all around, and a beautiful young har before me, who has come to the sacred altar of our kind. I ask you now to step out of your mind for a short while, to simply ‘be’ in this moment with me. Put aside judgment and observation. Celebrate life for its own sake. Neither of us knows what the future will bring.’

  ‘Tell me what I must do,’ Darq said.

  ‘Let your body off its leash,’ Thiede said. ‘You keep it tightly controlled. Let it be free.’

  ‘I don’t want to be a slave to my body as others are,’ Darq said.

  ‘Thought, vehicle and essence are all one thing, Darq. You’re unbalanced if you neglect one in favor of the other aspects.’

  ‘Oh, all right,’ Darq conceded. ‘I’ll try. Shall I undress?’

  Thiede laughed. ‘No, not yet. We’ll share breath again, but I want you to concentrate on the physical aspects. Just let go.’ He grinned widely. ‘You might even like it.’

  ‘That’s possible, I suppose,’ Darq said, unable to imagine it could be so.

  Thiede drew Darq towards him. ‘Put your arms around me. Touch my skin. Inhale its scent.’

  Darq did as he was told. He smelled Thiede’s hair and neck. It was a warm living scent, vanilla and musk. He ran his hands over Thiede’s back and couldn’t help thinking about how the skin was just an organ holding all the other ones inside the body. He knew he shouldn’t be thinking that. The skin was sensitive, designed to respond to the slightest stimulus. It liked to be stroked. Thiede ran one of his hands over Darq’s shoulder blades, beneath his shirt. It wasn’t unpleasant, Darq supposed. Then they were sharing breath, at first in shallow lapping waves, then deeper, with great breakers of sensation and images crashing over them.

  Darq noticed his body was eager to respond in various ways and eventually he relented and allowed it to happen. There was some confusion, as if his flesh was separate from the rest of him, and almost hysterical at the notion it might do what it liked. It had a desire both to plunder and be plundered, which felt very strange. But it was also like an unbearable itch Darq could not reach to scratch. He pulled away from Thiede’s lips. ‘Now,’ he said. ‘It doesn’t feel good. We have to…’

  ‘Hush,’ Thiede said, and put a finger against Darq’s mouth. Slowly, he pulled off Darq’s shirt and then covered his chest with soft kisses.

  ‘Stop it,’ Darq said, hardly able to speak. ‘It hurts.’

  ‘That’s not pain,’ Thiede said. ‘Remember, let go.’ He pushed Darq back onto the grass. There were some frantic moments of fumbling as Darq refused to let Th
iede take things slowly. He didn’t care what role was required of him, as long as it was something. It was amazing how all thoughts of control had simply disappeared. His entire being was one throbbing need. If he didn’t get what he wanted, he’d explode. Thiede paused for a moment and said, ‘Darq, in feybraiha, the younger har first takes a passive role, but…’

  ‘Whatever!’ Darq said. ‘Don’t talk to me, just do something.’

  Thiede laughed. ‘All right, you asked for it.’ He rolled Darq onto his back.

  It wasn’t so much pain as a kind of stretching discomfort that went on for too long. Then Darq relaxed and uttered a long sighing groan.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Thiede whispered in his ear, his body motionless.

  ‘Dislocated,’ Darq murmured.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Dislocated limb. It’s gone back in now. That’s what it’s like. I’m put back together. Now I can move it.’ He experimented with this concept for some moments. ‘Yes,’ Darq said. ‘It’s good. You can move too now. Let’s not talk.’

  ‘That is the usual way,’ Thiede said.

  Chapter Eight

  Freyhella in the summer was very different from the dour forbidding land Loki had first seen. The great mountains, swathed in clouds like ephemeral silks, dominated the landscape, filling it with sentience and power. Freygard nestled in the creases of these mountains as they stretched their toes to the ocean, creating the long steep-sided rivers for which the land was famous.

  It was late in the afternoon as Loki arrived, feverish with feybraiha, still reeling from the surprise of being sent to this place. Half of him was afraid, yearning for the familiar comforts of his childhood home at this delicate time, while another part of him, already beyond feybraiha and hale again, welcomed the adventure. He would be staying in a house, in the hills not far from town. This was where Eyra’s Listeners had lived for some while. It was similar to the one where Loki had stayed before, but with smaller rooms, even if there did appear to be more of them. The wooden paneling on the walls was unvarnished, as were the floorboards. Curtains at the windows were heavy and the floors covered in animal skins and thick rugs. Houses in Freygard required furnishings to combat the winter cold.

  The strange portal still existed in the hawthorn grove, about a mile away, but had remained dormant. The Freyhellans now simply accepted its existence. Nohar had been harmed by it, and even the harling who’d found it had eventually become well again, cared for by hara in Immanion.

  Cal and Pellaz both accompanied Loki to Freygard, in order to inspect the har that Galdra had chosen to consummate the feybraiha. His name was Seydir. None of it felt real to Loki. He could not imagine life beyond this rite of passage. Galdra escorted the Aralisians to Seydir’s house in the evening. The har was fairly young, only three years past feybraiha himself, and lived alone. Galdra said he was a trusted member of the Assembly staff, and that he would regard it as a great honor to be Loki’s guide.

  Loki sat with his parents and Galdra, before a great fire, feeling as if the flames licked at his bones. He was surrounded by a strange bristling fog of emotions and before him, in a carved wooden chair, sat the har with whom he would share the most intimate things. It seemed unimaginable. Cal nibbled the skin around his fingernails, and said hardly anything. Pellaz talked as if he was in the Hegalion, in clipped formal speech. Seydir too said little, so it was up to Pellaz and Galdra to keep the conversation going.

  All the while, Galdra’s gaze kept wandering to Loki, who was sensitively aware of the intense scrutiny. He wondered what interest this har had in him. Why, after all the hostility, had this invitation been extended? Loki wasn’t sure he was comfortable with being a political tool. Yet hadn’t he talked of building bridges when he’d been here before? He hadn’t thought Galdra had really been listening, but obviously he had.

  In the morning, after staying overnight in the Listeners’ house, which was now reserved for high-ranking Gelaming when they visited Freygard, Cal and Loki went for a walk along the beach. Seydir came with them. Cal appeared to warm to the Freyhellan somewhat, because he talked at Seydir quite freely about inconsequential things. The Freyhellan said hardly a word and was clearly uneasy, perhaps in as much of a daze as Loki was. They strolled to the docks, where a refreshment shack for fisherhara stood. They sat outside at a sea-bleached table, sipping a strong sweet brew of tea, serenaded by the greedy gulls, which strutted up and down, hoping for gifts of food.

  Cal sighed. He’d spent the best part of an hour trying to put Seydir at ease and had obviously failed. Loki was utterly tongue-tied and wanted to go home.

  ‘Have you seen anyhar through feybraiha before?’ Cal asked, clearly having decided to face things head on.

  Seydir shook his head and raised his hands in a gesture of helplessness.

  ‘It’s nothing to worry about,’ Cal said.

  ‘No.’ Seydir put down his mug of tea, squinted out to sea.

  ‘If you don’t want to do this, you should say,’ Cal said, his patience sounding thin.

  ‘I don’t speak your language good,’ Seydir said abruptly. This had not been obvious, because he’d said so little.

  ‘Have you understood half of what I’ve said to you?’ Cal asked, grinning.

  Seydir smiled, rather sheepishly. ‘I don’t speak well.’

  ‘Fortunately, language is not an essential,’ Cal said. He took a sip of the scalding tea, winked at Loki. ‘What do you think of him, loveling? He can’t understand us, so say what you like.’

  Loki was unconvinced that was true. He already knew from his own language studies that it was easier to understand a tongue than to speak it. ‘I like him.’ He risked a smile at Seydir, and realised they had both thought the same thing about language. It was a brief mind touch and it proved that language was clearly irrelevant in psychic communication. Loki hadn’t considered that before.

  ‘He looks good,’ Cal said. ‘Of course, they all do here.’

  ‘You could be Freyhellan,’ Loki said. ‘You and Galdra look very alike.’

  ‘So I’ve been told,’ Cal said and from his tone, Loki wished he’d kept his mouth shut. ‘Well, you two walk back down the beach. I’m just in the way. I’m supposed to chaperone, but I’ll keep a beady eye on you from here. Off you go!’

  Seydir looked momentarily confused as Cal flapped his hands in the air, but Loki sent the message, Let’s walk, and Seydir got to his feet.

  They went down the worn sandy steps to the shore. The tide was far out and harlings carrying wicker buckets picked for shellfish among the rocks. Seydir took Loki’s hand rather shyly and they walked in silence, not even communicating by mind touch. They reached the caves where Loki and Raven had met Taldri. Today, nohar was around. Loki glanced back up the beach. He couldn’t see Cal sitting outside the shack; it was too far away.

  You are beauty, but also darkness.

  Loki was surprised by the words that slid into his mind. Dark? Me? He’d never considered himself to be that.

  Tigron blood, Seydir told him, but he was smiling. Your mind talks strongly for one so young.

  I was taught to do it.

  Seydir took Loki’s hands in his own. Loki had never been touched by another har in this way, with this different intention. It was odd, another world. He felt strangely detached from it, when surely the spirit of feybraiha should have him painfully in its clutches. He could tell that Seydir thought they should share breath, because that was the usual way of things. He could also tell that the Freyhellan was still uneasy. His usual desire to please took control. You are my teacher now. I know nothing.

  Seydir nodded and took Loki’s face gently in his hands. For some moments, he gazed into Loki’s eyes as if searching for something. Then they were sharing breath and the crash of the distant waves became thunder. Loki no longer felt detached. The union was euphoric, an utter sharing of being. It was like living Seydir’s own life, seeing all those pictures, sensing his feelings. Suddenly, Seydir was the most desi
rable har in the world. It was remarkable how physical sensation took over. Loki became a single nerve of craving. And then Cal’s voice was in his head. Loki, come back now. Enough.

  He broke away, breathless. Seydir’s eyes looked glazed. I have to go back. My father called me.

  Seydir nodded. He was right to do so. The feybraiha hunger is very strong in you. Now is not the time.

  I look forward to the time, Loki told him, and Seydir laughed.

  Among the Freyhellans, a feybraiha is celebrated among the whole community. If a har of status is involved, hara will come from outlying settlements, sailing down the coast in their long wolf-prowed ships. Offerings are made to the dehara of the sea, and the young har undergoing the rite of passage is required to spend a night in one of the sea caves, communing with the spirits gentle to his kind.

  Galdra wanted his own son to experience a Freyhellan feybraiha to the full, although he did allow Loki to forgo the night in the cave. So, while physical symptoms of a minor yet annoying nature plagued Loki’s body, he dutifully complied with Galdra’s wishes, all the time wondering why Pellaz and Cal allowed the Freyhellan to take charge so much. Not that they stayed in Freygard for long. It seemed that once they were satisfied that Seydir wasn’t a troll who might rip Loki’s throat out, they were content to go back to Immanion, although they would return for the feybraiha party, when Seydir would initiate Loki into the rites of aruna.

  Galdra spent a lot of time with Loki, instructing him in Freyhellan lore: that of the sea, the sky and the beasts who rode them. He taught Loki about the winds and the sons of the winds, those capricious elementals who held the fate of ships in their cloudy hands. The attention Galdra showered on him made Loki feel breathless, and somewhat confused. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy or appreciate it: it just felt as if Galdra was running out of time, he had so much to say. Perhaps he was taking the idea of education to heart too earnestly. All the awkwardness and tension Loki had experienced on his first visit had melted away. He wondered what his parents had said to Galdra to change this. Was it just that Galdra was so flattered by being asked to instruct the Tigrons’ son that he’d forgotten how bad he’d felt? Loki couldn’t convince himself that was the reason.