The Ghosts of Blood and Innocence

by Constantine, Storm

  ‘Skripi,’ Loki said. ‘They’re looking for you.’

  Skripi came out of the shadows, perhaps his portal to this place. ‘That’s of no consequence,’ he said. ‘Get out of bed and dress yourself.’

  ‘I can’t, there’s something wrong with me. I’m too tired to move.’

  ‘You’re fine,’ Skripi said. ‘Get up.’

  Loki was about to protest again, but realised he did in fact feel very alert and full of energy. The languor had dropped from him, presumably at Skripi’s words. He must be working magic. Downstairs, Samarchis had put a ceramic bowl on the kitchen table, and Lantovar was about to ladle soup into it. In a few short moments, one of them would begin to climb the stairs. Loki knew that was dangerous for them. ‘What do you want with me?’ he asked Skripi.

  ‘We’re going on a journey,’ Skripi answered. ‘It’s one you want to take. We must go at once.’

  The kitchen door opened and closed, and floorboards creaked as Samarchis walked across the hall.

  ‘If you care for that har, you will come with me now,’ Skripi said, and although the words were threatening, Loki knew that he was not in danger. Samarchis, however, was. Loki got out of bed and pulled on his clothes. He was finding it difficult to think properly, but his body moved swiftly and precisely.

  Just as the door opened and Samarchis came into the room, Skripi pulled Loki backwards into a shadowed corner. The shadows wrapped around them both like a concealing cloak. Loki saw Samarchis stare at the bed for some seconds, before he yelled, ‘Lantovar!’ and fled the room.

  Skripi’s arms tightened around Loki. ‘Are you ready?’ he whispered.

  Loki did not answer. They were leaving whether he was ready or not. For a brief moment, he considered breaking free and following Samarchis in a hectic flight down the stairs, but before the idea could take shape properly, the air folded and fractured around him.

  He was being taken into the otherlanes. Very few hara can travel the etheric highways without the use of a sedu. The only har Loki knew who could do it was Cal. Now he was plummeting through a void, gripped by a creature he could no longer see. He was confused and numb, but just before he was taken to another world, Loki sent out a pulse of his own essence: a symbol and a sign. He hoped that Cal would be able to find it.

  Chapter Nine

  In the realm of Thanatep, the sky is black, even though a solar disk burns high above the twisted landscape. There are no stars. The land itself is red and black; sepia in the shadows. The first words Loki heard in this place were, ‘You must protect yourself from the Thanax.’ The words meant nothing, and seemed to come from nowhere, because Loki’s senses were addled. The air he breathed had a bitter tang to it, and his eyes were running. He felt hands upon his arms, and a living presence behind him, while he blinked to clear his vision, struggling for breath. He wanted to say things like ‘What is this place?’ or ‘Take me home,’ but the act of speaking was too difficult. He was in an alien realm, powerless and a captive.

  Skripi, who held him, released his grip and turned Loki to face him. ‘You’ll get used to this place. Soon, the air will have no taste. But we must make haste. You’re too vulnerable, and the Thanax will sense your warmth.’

  By this time, Loki was able to take in more details of his surroundings. He and Skripi were standing on the brow of a stark cliff, where black, straggling herbs snaked across the ground. They looked undernourished and poisonous. Below was a wide flat plain that looked as if it had been created by some kind of massive impact, as it was surrounded on all sides by cliffs. Upon the plain was a forest of towers, some with bulbous cupolas at their peaks, others with stone crowns of spikes. Some had fallen completely, others were half standing. About a third remained intact.

  As for Skripi himself, he was an attractive har, even if his aura felt rather strange and dark. His hair was not quite black, almost purple, as were his eyes. But despite these aesthetic qualities, he was still an abductor.

  ‘That is the city of Thannaril,’ Skripi said, ‘though nothing lives there now… except for us.’

  Loki still could not speak. He wanted to weep but felt that if he did so, the tears would turn into some caustic substance and burn his skin.

  ‘Come,’ Skripi said, and took hold of one of Loki’s hands. If he was aware of Loki’s distress, he ignored it.

  There was a narrow, treacherous path that led down to the plain. Several times, Loki stumbled as loose shale gave way beneath his feet. Skripi hauled him on relentlessly. He appeared to be in a hurry.

  When they eventually reached the bottom, Skripi paused. ‘You must be wondering why I didn’t bring us out of the otherlanes directly into Thannaril, but this has proved difficult. Ancient wards about the towers still contain a residue of power.’

  Loki had been thinking no such thing. He could barely think at all.

  ‘But we’re nearly there. Hurry.’

  Skripi dragged Loki onwards. The shadows of the towers fell over them, and Loki heard a threatening sibilant hiss. Skripi tensed, whilst also increasing their pace. ‘Don’t look at them,’ he advised.

  Loki had not been aware there was anything to look at, and the simple injunction not to look made him glance to the side. The image would stay with him forever. He saw three skeletal shapes, whose skins were as dark as the world around them, yet it seemed as if it were not color exactly. Their eyes were black holes, and their long tangled hair a dirty white. Hunger poured from their beings and they were edging out from the shadows.

  ‘Thanax,’ Skripi said. He broke into a run.

  Guided by survival instinct, Loki ran just as fleetly. He thought he heard the words ‘Flesh fire!’ hissed behind him.

  Skripi and Loki ran towards a nearby tower. There was a gaping entrance just above ground level, reached by a short flight of steps, but there was no door. Skripi leapt up the steps and plunged into the unsavory darkness beyond the threshold, dragging Loki with him. Loki could not see how an open doorway provided any measure of security, but then Skripi was hauling him up wide spiraling stairs on the inside wall of the tower. If there had been floors to the building, the lower ones were long gone, but around thirty feet up, a ceiling appeared from the darkness, in which there was an opening. The stairs led through it into a circular room, with a high-beamed ceiling.

  Here, Skripi let go of Loki’s hands and braced his hands upon his knees, breathing deeply. He groaned and straightened up. ‘I took the drain. You didn’t feel it, did you?’

  Loki stared at Skripi mutely. He had no idea what the har meant.

  ‘Well, you seem unscathed,’ Skripi said. He ran his hands through his hair. ‘Don’t worry. The Thanax won’t follow us into a tower. This is Mutandis, once the lair of a powerful creature, we believe. We visit it rarely, but it was the closest to hand.’

  The room was empty, but for a few shadowy chests arranged around the walls. Loki was puzzled as to how he could see so well, seeing as this realm had little light. Now that he was more himself, he could take in more details: Skripi looked little older than he did, but it was clear the other har was more experienced, in many ways. He had a confidence and inner strength that Loki thought he lacked himself.

  ‘Why?’ Loki managed to ask. ‘Why have you brought me here?’

  Skripi flashed him a crooked smile, and did not answer, but walked across the room to a strange metallic structure that sprouted from the wall. It looked like a flower of metal struts. ‘This is a water tap,’ Skripi said. ‘You must drink now, because the otherlanes can dehydrate you. The water here is drawn from deep beneath the ground. There’s little that is drinkable to be found on the surface around here.’

  He turned one of the spiky metal petals, and a gush of fluid burst from the tap’s center. The whole room filled with a damp smell of earth.

  Skripi picked up a battered metal cup from the floor and filled it. ‘You’ll get used to the taste,’ he said, and offered Loki the cup.

  Loki drank, and although in some ways it f
elt as if he were eating soil, he also felt refreshed. He wiped his mouth. ‘You must tell me. Why have you brought me here?’

  ‘To be with us,’ Skripi said, ‘your kin.’

  ‘My kin?’

  ‘We are surakin, Loki.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘I am the son of your brother, Abrimel, who the Tigron has imprisoned in Immanion. Abrimel is my father. You’re my hura, believe it or not. But I prefer the term surakin, don’t you? It makes us sound like equals.’

  ‘Whatever. It means nothing to me.’ Loki sat down on the floor. He’d had no idea he possessed this relative, if indeed Skripi was telling the truth. It was a shock, not least because if it was true, a very close blood relative had recently taken him through feybraiha. Was that forbidden? Loki pressed his hands against his eyes briefly. ‘What do you want with me? Am I a hostage to barter for your hostling?’

  ‘No,’ Skripi said. ‘You’re here to learn a part of our family’s history. Nohar’s ever told you about it.’ He hunkered down in front of Loki. ‘My true name is Geburael. Call me that from now on. You won’t have heard of it. You were conceived at the time when my hostling, Ponclast, was vanquished by the Tigrons and my brother Diablo fled with me to sanctuary. I was a tiny harling then, but even so, I felt your soul flower in the earthly realm. I’ve waited to make contact with you. There are many things you don’t know, not least that your father’s former consort was not slain by the Teraghasts, as hara believe. He was slain by those who wished your father to make contact with the Aralisian, Pellaz.’

  Loki almost laughed. ‘Skripi… Geburael… my father’s former consort was killed virtually by his own hand. It was his choice to die.’

  Geburael got to his feet. ‘We’re not speaking of Terzian har Varr, Loki. Calanthe har Aralis is not your father. That’s just one of the lies.’

  Loki felt as if Geburael had punched his stomach. For a moment, it was difficult to draw breath, then he managed to say, with dignity: ‘I don’t believe you.’

  Geburael shook his head at these words. ‘Loki, you must believe. I have no reason to lie. Your father is Galdra har Freyhella. We have been given information about this. You were conceived on a field of battle, while the Aralisian performed Grissecon with the Freyhellan to defeat my hostling. That is a fact and not even Pellaz would dare deny it if you asked him outright.’

  Much as this news was distressing, Loki felt the information settle within him and knew instinctively that it was true. It explained a lot. Galdra was aware of this truth, which was why he’d said the Gelaming had done him a discourtesy in bringing Loki to Freygard. But some arrangement had been made, some understanding arrived at, in order for Loki to be educated with the Freyhellans. Everything made sense, except for one thing. ‘You still haven’t said why I’m here,’ Loki said. ‘If we are kin, why didn’t you just tell me?’

  Geburael laughed harshly. ‘Because of who my parents are. If I’d made myself known to you, and you’d revealed that knowledge, the Tigrons would have tried to imprison me, as they did my parents. Not that they’d have succeeded, but I don’t want them to be aware of me just yet. Pellaz is mad, drunk on power. He is a threat to Wraeththukind. It’s important you know the truth, because you are his heir.’

  ‘You are his enemy,’ Loki said. ‘That’s why you’re saying these things. Don’t think me so stupid. I know who Ponclast is, what he tried to do. He was deranged. How do you plan to use me?’

  ‘I don’t plan to use you,’ Geburael said. ‘I want to make you aware of the facts, that’s all, and then you can make up your own mind. Naturally, you’re prejudiced against me at the moment. I expect that. But I’ll show you things that will enlighten you.’

  Loki had already resolved to appear to co-operate, since this could buy him time. He realised he must concentrate on drawing Cal to him, for he had no doubt Cal would be looking for him. Did Cal know the truth about Galdra? Somehow, Loki felt that he must, which made his sincere love all the more precious. ‘What things?’ Loki asked. His mind went back to the creatures from which they’d fled. ‘What are the Thanax?’

  ‘Leeches,’ Geburael replied. ‘They feed on living essence. I’ll show you how to protect yourself from them. They’re drawn by warmth; you must learn to project cold, and then they’ll ignore you.’

  ‘What is this place exactly?’

  ‘Another realm, another exit point of the otherlanes, like the earthly realm is. Diablo found it years ago. He brought me here for safety after Fulminir fell. We have… assistance here.’

  ‘Did the Thanax once live in these towers?’

  Geburael shook his head. ‘No. Diablo gave them that name. He learned the name of this city, and this realm. The Thanax are a fairly recent phenomenon, he thinks. We’ve tried to kill them, but it’s impossible. They never get that close and can move quicker than a thought flies through the psyche. But we’ve been drained by them and it’s not pleasant. They’re not deadly, but they’ll send you into a stupor, take all your strength and energy.’

  ‘If they feed on life force, who else do they draw nourishment from, apart from you? This place seems almost barren.’

  ‘They don’t,’ Geburael said, ‘well, not here. That is why they’re constantly hungry, although Diablo thinks they can access other realms, feed from those who frequent the otherlanes, for example. Most hara are most likely unaware of it. We look on them as otherlanes parasites. Why there’s a colony of them here, we don’t know. Once you can protect yourself, they’re no bother.’ He smiled. ‘If you’ve refreshed yourself, I’ll take you to Diablo. Remember to project cold. You’ve had some caste training, I take it?’

  ‘Scant,’ Loki said. ‘I’ve just passed feybraiha, remember.’

  ‘I remember,’ Geburael said.

  Loki could recall little of the night when Geburael had first visited him, other than that he’d felt strangely drawn to him. Still, it was difficult to imagine they had taken aruna together. Loki could remember the strange wounds he’d woken up with. What had Geburael done to him? He did not seem to be entirely har. ‘Why didn’t Seydir come to me?’ he asked. ‘What did you do to him?’

  Geburael frowned. ‘I don’t know that har.’

  ‘He was the one who had been chosen for me for feybraiha, the one whose place you stole.’

  ‘Diablo dealt with certain aspects of the operation,’ Geburael said. ‘I had no part in that.’

  ‘But what did…?’

  Geburael held up his hands. ‘You have many questions, I know. I’ll answer as many of them as I can, but now we should leave this place.’

  Loki nodded. ‘Take me to your brother.’ In his voice, he heard the ringing tone of Aralis, his bloodline. He must not let these strange and possibly dangerous exiled hara forget who he was.

  Once outside Mutandis, Loki expected the Thanax who’d spotted them earlier to be lurking around, waiting for him and Geburael to re-emerge, but apparently the creatures did not have that much of an attention span and had wandered off. Still, Loki was nervous as he and Geburael jogged between the shadows of the silent, looming towers. He kept expecting a hideous shape to leap out at them.

  Years before, Diablo had escaped from Fulminir, or rather had been expelled by Cal, during the battle between the sedim and the teraphim. On his flight, Diablo had had the wits to scoop up the harling Geburael from Abrimel’s arms. At the time, Abrimel had been rendered senseless and didn’t notice the abduction. Ponclast had already been delivered into Lileem’s custody and the battle outside had been nearly over. Diablo had been injured by Cal, but even so his determination had kept him going, and he had slipped into the otherlanes, to relative safety.

  Although Ponclast had not known it, Diablo had been making his own investigations of the otherlanes for some time. Wraeththu, perhaps subtly influenced by the sedim, steadfastly refused to explore other realms, believing them to be hostile to harish life and therefore deadly. Diablo had no such concerns. If he emerged into a realm where the air
was unbreathable, he’d be out again in the blink of an eye. If he emerged into solid rock and died, then he died. He didn’t really hold his own life in much esteem, but he was a creature full of curiosity.

  After many abortive attempts to emerge into realms other than earth, Diablo eventually tumbled out into Thanatep. Something about the place appealed to him: the silent, sentinel towers of the city; the crumbling hints of a civilization long dead. Little was left as evidence, but once Diablo composed himself in trance, the name Thannaril came to him, which he supposed was accurate. The Thanadrim, who’d built the city, and had once occupied the entire world, were gone, but their ghosts, their memories and their feelings remained. Diablo did not discover the Thanax until the time he brought Geburael to Thannaril. He supposed this was because his own life force was not particularly palatable to parasites.

  When Loki laid eyes on Diablo for the first time, he was shocked. It wasn’t that Diablo was deformed particularly, or even horrific to behold, but he was so different, he barely looked harish. His eyes were abnormally large, his cheekbones like blades, his chin narrow and pointed. His hair was blacker than the eerie sky and so thick it resembled lush jungle vegetation rather than hair. His dark gaze was compelling, like that of a hypnotic predator. Loki felt Diablo could see right into him. It was also clear, from first acquaintance, that he felt no kinship to Loki. Whatever motives Geburael might have for bringing Loki here, Diablo’s were different. Loki wondered what kind of monster Ponclast must be to spawn such progeny.

  Diablo did not smile or utter a greeting when Loki stepped into what was clearly his personal space. He merely inclined his head, and indicated that Loki should sit down. There were some ragged cushions on the floor that had seemingly once been quite plush. Loki settled himself and Diablo went to prepare food.

  Apanage Tower was perhaps the least dilapidated in Thannaril. All its floors were still intact and these had been equipped with a few bits of furniture that Geburael and Diablo had filched from the earthly realm: as well as the cushions for seating, there were small tables, even bed rolls for sleeping. The realm was not as barren as it first appeared. Geburael explained there were small mammals and reptiles to hunt for food, as well as a few species of reptilian birds. The plants, though tough and stringy, were plentiful and nourishing. There were no hearths or chimneys in the tower, so fires for cooking and warmth had to be built directly on the floor. Fortunately, the wood from the local hardy shrubs was virtually smokeless, if carefully dried beforehand.