The Ghosts of Blood and Innocence

by Storm Constantine

  Abrimel glanced coldly at his father. ‘Why? Wherever he is, he’s safer there.’

  Pellaz strove to keep his tone even and friendly. ‘His safety is assured in Immanion, I promise you.’

  Abrimel appeared suspicious. ‘Why do you want him?’

  ‘OK, I’ll be honest with you. It’s about your brother, Loki.’

  Abrimel sneered. ‘Half-brother,’ he corrected. ‘The golden child I’ve never met. What of him?’

  Pellaz wished this interview could be easier. He found it difficult not to get annoyed with Abrimel. He always had. ‘Loki’s not long past feybraiha,’ he said. ‘Unfortunately, he’s been abducted, perhaps in a way similar to how your hostling’s pearl was taken all those years ago. We think Diablo is responsible. Ponclast has advised me to try and make contact with Geburael to see if he knows anything about this. I think perhaps that Ponclast would really like news of your son, too.’

  Abrimel’s stare was narrow. ‘You’re lying to me. Ponclast would never advise you.’

  ‘He’s not the same, Bree,’ Pellaz said. ‘He’s no longer full of anger. He’s resigned to what is.’

  Abrimel scowled. ‘Then he’s lost his mind!’

  ‘Far from it,’ Pellaz said. ‘Anyway, he pleaded on your behalf. He asked me to give you your freedom.’

  Abrimel flicked another glance at his father. Some of the hostility had waned in his expression. ‘In return for the advice he gave you?’

  Pellaz nodded. ‘Perhaps. Yes.’

  Abrimel smoothed his trousers with both hands. ‘The question is; will you comply with this request?’

  Pellaz leaned back in his chair. ‘If you help me locate Geburael, then yes.’

  ‘I don’t believe you. You can’t risk freeing me.’

  Pellaz found himself saying something he’d only just thought of. ‘I could - if you went to the same place where Ponclast is.’

  Abrimel’s expression became more animated. ‘You’d allow that?’

  ‘Yes. If that’s what you want.’ Pellaz was surprised to find that this was true.

  ‘It is what I want. I thought I’d never see him again. You know that, of course.’ Abrimel frowned and shook his head. ‘No. I can’t trust you. You’re deceiving me.’

  Pellaz reached out and briefly stroked one of Abrimel’s arms. Abrimel flinched away, and Pell’s hand closed on empty air. ‘I’m your father, Bree,’ Pellaz said gently. He closed his eyes for a moment, took a deep breath. ‘I know I failed you. I wish we could go back, but we can’t. I’m not here to make amends, because the past can’t be undone. I know that. You betrayed your tribe and went to our enemies. That’s a difficult thing to forgive and forget, as are all the things I did to you, or rather that I didn’t do. We can’t be family, and I doubt we can even be friends, but I ask you now, as an Aralisian, and as father to Geburael, to allow your son his place in this world. If he doesn’t want it, I’ll respect his decision, but I do think he should be given the choice.’

  Abrimel rubbed one hand over his face. He wouldn’t look at Pellaz. ‘If he’s with Diablo, he won’t want anything to do with you.’

  ‘That is possible. We won’t know until we’ve spoken to him.’

  ‘He might be dead.’

  ‘No,’ Pellaz said. ‘He isn’t. You or Ponclast would feel it, if that were so.’ He leaned forward. ‘Bree, you know Diablo. Cal has told me of him and I experienced him firsthand in Fulminir. Is this really the har you want to be an influence over your son?’

  Abrimel uttered a wordless, angry sound. ‘No! What I wanted for our son was a life with me, with his hostling.’ He thumped his own chest. ‘For a short time, I had happiness I’d never known. You took it from me, as you took everything else from me. I despise you and your world utterly. You live a lie.’

  Pellaz had to lean away from the hostile energy streaming from his son’s body. He had to break through it somehow, keep his voice level, and his heart open to all that Abrimel needed to say. ‘Bree, I’m not perfect, but I don’t live a lie. Our differences as father and son aside, you must know that Ponclast, as he was, should never have been allowed to have power. You might hate what the Gelaming stand for, but I don’t believe you’d countenance the sort of abuses that the Varrs were famed for either. I know you’re a har of integrity. You weren’t drawn to Ponclast because your shared his ideals. You went to him because I let you down and because I treated your hostling badly. You went to him to punish Cal, Caeru and myself. And you went to him, because he was strong and he loved you. But in your heart, I believe you knew the truth, even in the midst of that happiness you speak of.’

  Abrimel stared at Pellaz for several long moments, then he sighed. ‘I tried to change him,’ he said bleakly. ‘He was so bitter. You have no idea. If he’d ever come to power, it would have been different. I would have made it so.’

  ‘Perhaps you would have done,’ Pellaz said.

  Abrimel rubbed his face hard with both hands. ‘You’ve brought life here with you,’ he said. ‘As ever, you are cruel. I don’t want to be grateful to you, but if I can be with the har I love, I’ll assist you. There’s one other condition. If I do as you ask and I’m successful, if Geburael comes here, I would like to see him.’

  Pellaz nodded. ‘I understand that.’

  Abrimel drew in his breath through his nose, smoothed his hair. ‘Did my chesnari give any indication as to how I should attempt this contact?’

  ‘No, but I can send Listeners to assist you.’

  Abrimel sneered sarcastically. ‘What about the ones you have constantly scanning my thoughts? They know me pretty well.’

  Pellaz shifted uncomfortably on his seat, cleared his throat. ‘Do you think you could work with them?’

  Abrimel made a dismissive gesture. ‘It makes no difference. I have no friends in this land.’

  Pellaz hesitated, considered. ‘Of course, you could work with Caeru and me.’

  Abrimel adopted an expression of revulsion. ‘To touch your mind so intimately? You think I want that? And Rue is an imbecile. He loves you, despite the way you’ve kicked him relentlessly for years. He fawns over your insane Calanthe and lets you both into his bed. He’s a hopeless case. I have cast him off. You’re all sick.’

  ‘Is that a no, then?’

  Abrimel pursed his lips. ‘You know as well as I do that three hara of Geburael’s blood would stand a better chance of reaching him.’ He paused for a moment, clearly thinking things over. ‘Oh, very well! Bring Rue here, but advise him to keep his mouth shut. I have nothing to say to him.’

  Pellaz was flooded with relief. ‘Thank you. I’ll stand by my word. Whether we succeed or not, you can go to Ponclast.’ He stood up. ‘One thing I have to say to you: Rue loves you, Bree. All harlings should know that they can’t dictate the way their parents live. You might disagree with Rue’s choices, as he disagreed with yours, but he respected that you’re an adult who should make his own decisions. It hasn’t affected the way he feels for you. When Rue loves, he simply loves. In that, he is quite unshakeable. You should think about that.’ Pellaz leaned over and clasped his son’s shoulder. ‘I’ll leave you now and return later.’

  This time Abrimel didn’t flinch away. He stared down at his hands, which were tightly clasped in his lap. ‘Ponclast was wrong about the pearl, very wrong,’ he said. ‘But it wasn’t his idea. It was what the Hashmallim wanted.’

  ‘You couldn’t have changed things, Bree.’

  ‘I know.’ Abrimel looked up at his father. ‘Unfortunately, as you know, we cannot choose the ones we love. It just happens.’

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Loki had learned how to fly. That was how he thought of otherlanes travel; a dream that was real. The Hashmal, Zikael, had come to him again and this time, it was to teach. ‘I’ve been granted permission by my Master to take you to a certain realm,’ he said. ‘I’ve created it for training purposes.’

  ‘You can create realms?’ Loki had not imagined the Hashmal pos
sessed such powers.

  Zikael smiled. ‘It’s not that difficult. One day, you might be able to do the same, to a certain extent. You should be able to build limited locations. It’s like making visualization real, or virtually real.’

  Loki was sure the sedim would not approve of such advanced education. He was nervous at first, because he couldn’t imagine how anyhar could negotiate the otherlanes without an experienced sedu to help him. He had no idea how to open a portal, or how to walk into it, or then how to use the confusing pathways beyond to get somewhere else.

  Zikael conducted the first lesson at the summit of Ninzini, at Loki’s request. They sat together on the floor while Zikael explained some of the basics of otherlanes travel. ‘The portal is a symbol you pull out of yourself and then make real,’ Zikael said; rather unhelpfully, Loki thought.

  ‘You’ll look between the spaces in a realm,’ Zikael continued, ‘and see the potential for others there. You’ll widen those spaces so you can step through. It’s as simple as that, for a creature with the capability to do it.’

  ‘What makes a creature that capable?’ Loki asked.

  ‘Desire and intention,’ Zikael answered. ‘Intelligence and awareness. If you can see ghosts in the sunset, if you believe that trees have thoughts, and that all the realms are full of things you cannot see, you can become an otherlanes traveler. In essence, it’s a willingness to accept there’s more to life than what the limited senses of the earthly realm perceive. It’s the capability to transcend your limits.’

  ‘How do your people put blocks on certain areas, then?’ Loki asked. He had begun to warm to Zikael, not least because the Hashmal appeared so open to sharing his knowledge.

  Zikael wove his hands gracefully, drawing pictures upon the air, his body swaying slightly. ‘We can create wards, illusions and side tracks. Wraeththu are a primitive species, so it’s not difficult to curtail their movements.’ He lowered his hands. ‘Are you ready to make your first attempt?’

  Loki nodded. He wasn’t sure if he was ready, but thought he might as well try. He wasn’t too happy that Zikael thought he was a primitive creature and wanted to impress him. He thought of Geburael, who still slept in the room below. It would have been reassuring if Geb could have been included in this lesson, but Loki had already sensed Zikael preferred it to involve just the two of them. He had guessed that the Hashmal was a proud being; he wanted to be Loki’s one and only teacher.

  ‘It helps if you have an idea of your desired destination in mind,’ Zikael said. ‘We’ll go to a kind of training area I’ve created. It’s a semblance of the earthly realm, though not very extensive. I’ll send you its symbol, its sign, and you’ll look out for this in the otherlanes, since that signals the exit point.’

  ‘You’ll be with me, won’t you?’ Loki asked.

  Zikael smiled. ‘Yes. I won’t risk you getting lost.’ He held out his hands, which Loki took hold of. The long fingers completely enfolded him, as if Loki’s hands were those of a tiny harling. ‘Now, lower the barriers around your thoughts and open your mind to me,’ Zikael said. ‘I’ll send you the image you need.’

  Later, Loki considered that learning to open otherlanes portals and then travel through them was the same as learning how to swim or to ride a horse. It was a skill that seemed impossible at first, but then suddenly you could just do it, as if you’d done it all your life. The knack, when it finally came, was instant and complete. Loki could peer between the spaces in the air before him and intend for a portal to open. He had some control over how the lanes beyond appeared to him. The sedim had no interest in making things easier for harish sensibilities, so journeys with them were often mind-numbingly surreal, through stupefying voids and vortexes of energy, but now Loki could turn the lanes into branching corridors of light, or passageways of stone. The energy parasites that inhabited the lanes could be perceived as bats or insects, or monsters. But he could carry a flaming torch to ward them off.

  Zikael told him he would be allowed to use the training realm as much as he liked, and that for now Loki must concentrate on this short and fairly simple journey. Loki really liked the way Zikael had designed the realm. It was predominantly constructed in shades of greenish-blue and very beautiful. Its landscape was a tumbling vista of wide lakes and hazy mountains. The foliage on the trees was azure, the sky a soft lilac. There were a few creatures there that looked real enough; pigeons and thrushes, dark red squirrels, different kinds of fish in the waters, and drowsily humming insects. When Loki questioned Zikael about the reality of these creatures, Zikael merely shrugged and said, ‘They aren’t illusions, Loki. I pulled these creatures from your memories.’

  ‘So, they could breed, die, and so on?’ Loki persisted.

  ‘If you want them to. The realm is yours to play in.’

  So Loki resolved to do just that. He would come to understand the limits of this ‘creation’ through experience. He would look upon it as his personal realm, a place he could go to sit and calm himself, find the center of his being. When he visited it alone, he felt for the way he had to go, and willed himself there. There was always a moment of panic when he perceived the exit portal, because every time he wondered how he would get through it. It was like daring himself to jump off a high wall repeatedly, thinking that next time he could land on his head or break both his ankles.

  Sometimes, Zikael would meet him there. Often, they wouldn’t say anything to one another, but would sit quietly together, in a wooden gazebo hung with wind chimes that stood on an island in the middle of a dark blue lake. Here, they would listen to the music of the chimes, and the soporific rustle of leaves from the lakeshore.

  One time, Zikael was disposed to converse. ‘Soon,’ he said, ‘things must change for you.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Loki asked.

  Zikael was sitting cross-legged, his hair hanging to the floor. He rested his chin on his hands. ‘What will it take to persuade you to be our avatar, Loki?’

  Loki shrugged awkwardly. ‘I’m… I’m not sure yet.’

  Zikael’s gaze was unwavering. Loki felt the Hashmal could see every thought in his head. ‘Events are moving along quite swiftly,’ Zikael said. ‘We’ve been warned that the sedim have put their case to Wraeththu. The moment hara ally with either them or us is the moment the matter is decided. If the sedim prevail, then Wraeththu can say farewell to any promise of advancement, perhaps for millennia.’ He drew in his breath. ‘Loki, you have a rival.’

  Loki frowned. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘You have a brother.’

  Loki felt a flutter of fear in his breast; a presentiment. ‘Yes, Abrimel.’

  Zikael’s expression darkened. ‘No, not Abrimel. Another.’

  Loki glanced away. He remembered when Geburael had heard that strange yet familiar call in the ethers. He remembered the story of the pearl snatched from Caeru’s body. ‘I know… I know that’s possible,’ he said softly.

  Zikael leaned forward and grabbed Loki’s chin firmly. ‘Look at me! We believe that the sedim have made overtures to this brother. Our agents suggest that they wish for him to rule all Wraeththu, to supplant his parents and Thiede, to supplant you.’

  Loki uttered a small sound of pain, since Zikael was hurting him. The Hashmal released him, leaned back. ‘This brother of yours has had no contact with your family, ever, so has no concept of loyalty to the House of Aralis. Perhaps Thiede sought to keep him as some kind of secret weapon, or a commodity to bargain with, but that secrecy has backfired. The sedim will know he has the potential for great power, because he is a har of greatness, Loki. In time, he will be five times more powerful than you could ever hope to be. He could squash you, and whatever armies you could raise, flat. But with our help, you can thwart his ambitions and secure your family’s future.’

  Loki stared at Zikael, wide-eyed. He tried to keep his dealings with the Hashmal business-like, so that he would earn respect, but now he felt out of his depth, and he could not hide it.
‘Have the Hashmallim approached him too?’

  Zikael’s expression became tinged with distaste. ‘No. We’d never do that. We wanted to destroy him before he was born, because we know he’s an aberration, a har born thousands of years before his time. Wraeththu isn’t equipped to deal with him, and eventually he’ll become a tyrant.’

  ‘You made Diablo steal the pearl from Caeru’s body,’ Loki said, and was unable to keep the revulsion he felt from his voice.

  Zikael closed his eyes briefly. ‘Yes, that’s so. I know it seems barbaric and cruel to you, but we’re above sentiment, Loki. We do things for the greater good, and you should cultivate a similar attitude. We weren’t wrong in what we did, only in that we failed.’

  Loki swallowed with difficulty. ‘Are you saying he should be killed?’

  Zikael stroked Loki’s face, softly. His fingers left a tingling trail. ‘Please appreciate how honest I’m being with you,’ he said. ‘I know that ethically your species is inclined to disagree with our ways, but…’ He took a breath. ‘It would be best to destroy the body this soul currently inhabits, yes. Let Wraeththu mature for some time before he comes back to them. It’s not really death, Loki, because you don’t understand death. Souls can only be moved around, never destroyed.’

  Loki didn’t want to hear this. He felt cornered, shadowed by an invisible threat. ‘How can I know you’re telling the truth? Asking me to condone the killing of my own kin is no small thing.’

  Zikael ducked his head. ‘I know that. Do you know how he was created?’

  In truth, Loki had no desire to know such details about his family. ‘Only that he was made by three hara, but not the mechanics of it, no.’

  Zikael’s gaze had taken on an intense gleam. ‘You should know,’ he said. ‘Don’t shy away from it, Loki. We wonder whether Pellaz was given an order to do what he did, but if so, we don’t know who gave it. He combined the essence of three hara to create this pearl. He opened the cauldron of creation in Caeru, and kept it open so that Calanthe could expel aren into it also. He did this by…’