storm

by Unknown

  Pellaz drank it gratefully, only the desire for oblivion giving him the strength of stomach not to vomit it back up immediately.

  Galdra took his share and grimaced. “You make this from ground-up corpses, don't you!” he said, handing his flask back to Lianvis.

  “Only human ones,” Lianvis answered, deadpan.

  Pellaz couldn't help but laugh at the expression on Galdra's face. “He's joking,” Pellaz said. Then paused. “You are joking, aren't you, Lianvis?”

  The Kakkahaar smiled. “Relax; let it do its work.”

  After only a few minutes, a tide of tranquil well-being coursed through Pell's mind and body. He was hardly conscious of anyhar but Galdra and himself. Lianvis' potion had smothered all the hot, itchy and uncomfortable feelings in Pell's heart. All he wanted to do now was go back to the new realm he had discovered. He was no longer remotely self-conscious.

  The Kakkahaar uttered the final invocations to create the ritual space, and Lianvis gestured for Pellaz and Galdra to come forward into the centre of the circle. Pellaz took off his cloak and handed it to Herien, as did Galdra. Pellaz could feel how chill the night air was, yet it was not uncomfortable. His body was hot. He and Galdra went to the centre and sat cross-legged opposite each other. They joined hands and concentrated on connecting their natural energy. The circle of witnesses chanted softly and rhythmically and Pellaz could feel the vibration of it swirling round them, enclosing them in a cone of power. The witnesses were no longer separate individuals, but simply a shield of protection.

  Through intention alone, Pellaz made himself soume and Galdra made himself ouana. When they were ready, Pellaz lowered himself into Galdra's lap. Galdra felt icy inside him, burning with a cold fire. He opened the soume energy centres one by one: it was almost effortless. When the sixth opened, Pellaz was filled with the vision of an iris-like door spinning open, and he was sucked right through it. This time, he made sure to hook his will around Galdra's essence and drag him with him.

  Stay with me! he hissed in Galdra's mind. Don't wander.

  It was not a place of darkness. Pellaz found himself in a temple of radiance. He realised Galdra was within him. They were sharing an etheric body.

  What is this place? Galdra asked.

  I don't know. It's different. It's supposed to be the cauldron of creation. Lileem said I should call upon a dehar, and my instinct would be to call for Aruhani or Agave, as Ash suggested. But this is not a temple to either of them. It's more like Miyacala's.

  Then change it.

  Or maybe I should call on Miyacala.

  They were surrounded by impossibly tall columns of a glittering crystalline substance that pulsed with rings of energy. Ahead, was a vague suggestion of a flight of steps, although it was difficult to perceive things properly. Pellaz walked towards the steps and it seemed to take an eternity to reach them. He formed the shape of Miyacala's name in his mind and then the steps zoomed towards him, gathered him up, and he was running up them, into another eternity.

  You were right, Galdra said.

  At the top of the steps was a platform, in the centre of which was a tall golden tripod. Steam or incense curled up from the shallow dish it supported. The floor appeared to be constructed of opal tiles. Shuddering drapes framed the platform, hiding whatever lay beyond it from view.

  Pellaz stood before the tripod and raised his arms. I call upon the dehar, Miyacala, master of initiation and of the mysteries. Miyacala, I command you to come to us now! Bring us the light of your knowledge. Astale Miyacala! Extend your hand. Astale!

  An intense white flame spurted up from the golden bowl, then subsided. Once it had died down, Pellaz saw a tall form standing opposite him on the other side of the tripod. His long platinum hair hung around him like a cloak. His eyes were white orbs, but a star blazed upon his forehead. He raised his left hand and a star blazed there also.

  Greetings, Miyacala. Pellaz bowed to the dehar respectfully.

  Greetings to you, Pellaz har Aralis and to you also, Galdra har Freyhella. You are welcome in the Nayati of Initiation. You are expected here.

  Are you akin to the sedim, Miyacala? Now, Pellaz and Galdra spoke with one voice. There was no division between them.

  No, the dehara are of Wraeththu. We are yours and you are ours, yet there is no ownership. We are not of the powers beyond. We are your ultimate potential, for you created us.

  We have need of your brethren, Aruhani and Agave.

  They are aware of this need. They await your word, once you pass beyond this threshold. You need all of us. We are all soume, we are all ouana. We are warriors and mystics. We are seers and kings. We are healers and assassins. Lunil of the blue fire wields the power of the lunar sphere of every realm. Aruhani is the destroyer and the creator. Agave is the flame of many suns. I am the light of knowledge, the truth of all matters, before which hara of unlighted minds would lose their sanity.

  Will you grant us initiation, Miyacala?

  That is my function in this instance. The dehar reached into one of his sleeves and drew forth a crystal blade that danced with sparks of light. Come to me. A new inception.

  Miyacala extended his left arm, pulling back the sleeve of his robe, and cut himself with the blade. Pellaz approached the dehar, who was several feet taller than he was. A milky, glowing substance dripped from the wound in Miyacala's arm. To Pellaz, it appeared much like the combined essence of two hara after aruna. He held out his arm. Miyacala took it and drew the blade down the inner forearm. Its touch was incredibly cold, as Galdra's ouana-lim had felt earlier, but it did not hurt. Shockingly red blood sprang from the cut, and splashed down upon the opaline floor. Miyacala took Pell's arm and pressed the wounds together. Pellaz could feel the glacier burn of the dehar's essence pouring into him. He could feel it transforming him.

  Then he was rushing through a vortex, bodiless, no more than a ball of energy. Impossible scenes flashed past: cyclopean cities of obsidian stone, impenetrable abysses, endless oceans of liquid metal. Pellaz wanted to cry out in stark terror but had no voice. He knew these sights. He had seen them before, at the time when his first physical body had died and his soul had been sucked through the ethers at Thiede's command.

  Don't be afraid.

  Galdra's presence.

  I am dead.

  We are not. Ride it, Pellaz. Make it yours. Follow me.

  I will.

  Galdra looked deep into the magical myths of his hara and plucked from them an image he liked. Now, they were a winged being, soaring between immense cliffs. Their wings beat monstrously, slowly, with great power. Pellaz had never felt such a sense of freedom and strength. They had no arms, only batlike wings, but long legs they held out behind them, which terminated in birdlike claws rather than feet. They had a tail, like a lion's. They flew towards a golden light, which as they drew nearer, illuminated a landscape of marvellous beauty. In some ways it was stark, just barren black rocks and cliffs, but the pure buttery radiance transformed it. There was a huge stepped pyramid ahead of them and they alighted on the platform at its summit.

  In the centre of the platform was a square opening in the floor, where steps could be seen leading downward. Pellaz and Galdra began to descend them. The walls on either side of them were veined with searing gouts of dark red light. The air was warm and smelled of cloves and frankincense. They had entered the temple of Aruhani.

  The dehar awaited them in a garden at the bottom of the steps. Impossibly, it was open to the air, even though it was in the centre of the pyramid. Pellaz had never beheld, even in his wildest visualizations, so strange a garden. The plants were of the darkest hues: indigo, black and crimson. Fleshy flowers, the size of cartwheels, exuded a perfume of jasmine and rot. Thorned vines snaked across the black earth beneath their feet, writhing like serpents.

  Aruhani sat cross-legged upon an alter of jet. He was of normal harish size: a beautiful creature with black skin, whose only garment was his abundant braided hair that covered him like a shawl.
The soles of his feet were dyed red with ochre. He did not speak, but held Pellaz with a smoking gaze. Pellaz was silenced in the dehar's presence. His power was primal, far more unnerving than Miyacala's. Where Miyacala was thought and knowledge, Aruhani was pure feeling and instinct. He was the harish equivalent of the darkest of the mother goddesses of ancient human cultures. As Pellaz watched, Aruhani uncrossed his legs. Multicoloured vapour steamed out of his soume-lam. In this way, he gave birth to his brothers, Lunil and Agave, who took on solid form and stood beside the alter, the dehara of blue and red fire.

  We are with you...

  Pellaz had no time to commune properly with these incredible beings, for the scene exploded before his eyes, shards of colour flying past and through him. In moments, he was back in the real world, shaking against Galdra's chest, sweat pouring off him, his head aching like a cauldron of destruction never mind creation.

  Lianvis came forward with Herien, both carrying cloaks, which they draped around the bodies of Pellaz and Galdra. Pellaz lifted his head to thank them, but the words were silenced in his throat.

  Beyond the circle of hara, Pellaz saw immense shadowy forms. Fifteen feet high, their arms crossed over their breasts, but carrying weapons of war: dehara. More than four, a myriad. Galdra saw them too, Pellaz could tell. The witnesses stood with closed eyes, perhaps still lost in the last wisps of visualization, perhaps as a mark of respect for those who had conducted the Grissecon. It seemed they did not perceive the incredible throng around them.

  “We brought them through with us,” Galdra said softly.

  “Who need mysterious allies from another realm?” Pellaz said. “Galdra, we can make our own.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Kyrotates came to Ponclast in his broken tower and said, “Tiahaar, a large force approaches us.”

  It was mid-afternoon and mellow sunlight gilded all the strangely beautiful ruins of Fulminir. On such a day could any har ride to war?

  “Many tribes ride behind the Tigron's banner,” Kyrotates said.

  Ponclast was in two minds: part of him scorned the Tigron's hubris for thinking he could simply march over to Fulminir and take it, while another feared that Pellaz har Aralis did this because he was confident he was about to enjoy a history-making victory. Pellaz no doubt knew about the shadow assassins, the attack on Galhea, and perhaps even Abrimel by now. Yet still he came, out in the open. In his place, Ponclast would have used sedim for a more clandestine approach. Should he send out his assassins now, even before Pellaz reached the fortress? Was that the reaction the Tigron was attempting to provoke? Did he have his own allies? Ponclast was troubled. He wished the Hashmallim were with him. Abraxis had talked of the teraphim dealing with the sedim, but so far there was only one teraph in Fulminir: Golab.

  Ponclast summoned Diablo, who now spent most of his time amusing Geburael. The harling was growing swiftly into a strong-minded, demanding individual.

  “I want you to observe the Tigron's forces,” Ponclast said. “Do it discretely and do not put yourself in any danger. Report back to me shortly.”

  He said to Kyrotates, “Bring Calanthe har Aralis to me.”

  Kyrotates bowed his head, but not before Ponclast noticed a furtive expression cross the har's face.

  “I hope he paid well for whatever you have given him,” Ponclast said tartly.

  Kyrotates looked him in the eye. “Tiahaar...”

  “Get out! Bring him here.”

  Cal came very swiftly, as usual the epitome of reserve and tranquillity.

  “Your chesnari rides toward us,” Ponclast said. “Your thoughts?”

  “Be prepared, tiahaar. That is my advice.”

  “Your thoughts, Cal. Do you intend to fight at Kyrotates' side?”

  “My fighting days are over.”

  Ponclast exhaled through his nose impatiently. “Speak plainly. If you don't, I will be forced to take extreme action. I would imagine that, despite your companion Moon Jaguar's Uigenna heritage, Pellaz still regards him as kin. I can think of several ways in which that glad fact might serve me.”

  Cal appeared to ignore this threat. “You cannot mistrust me completely, because here I am, alone in your presence. You must be aware that if I were representing the Gelaming, now might be a good time to assassinate you.”

  “You think you could?” Ponclast laughed coldly. “You delude yourself.”

  “Not any more,” Cal said. “You might be able to use Moon in some way to unsettle Pellaz, but then I wonder whether Pellaz, as he is now, could be affected by such a ploy. I wouldn't count on it.”

  Ponclast felt he was very near to losing his temper. “I don't want to hear any more of your slippery words, Cal. You are either with us, or you're not. I have just lit a fire beneath that fence you're sitting on. Jump off it before the flames consume you. You must convince me you have something to give and start giving it.”

  Cal shrugged. “All I can give you is the simple truth: this matter will be settled between you and Pellaz.”

  “I know that. Give me the advantage. Give me information. You know him more intimately than anyhar. Prove to me he no longer has your loyalty.”

  “I cannot help either of you with information.”

  “That is not good enough.”

  “There's nothing I can do about that. Perhaps Abrimel might be able to offer you more. Why don't you ask him?”

  Ponclast was silent for a moment. When this was all over, Kyrotates was in for a nasty shock. “Abrimel will take his hostling's place, on the Tigrina's throne in Immanion,” Ponclast said. “I wonder where you will be at that time.”

  Cal did not respond to that. “Prepare yourself, tiahaar. I told you what I could, and you chose not to heed it. There's nothing else I can do.”

  “I will take you with me to Immanion,” Ponclast said softly. “Let us see how your hara welcome you home. You will be my gift to them.”

  When the news came about the Gelaming advance, Moon and Tyson were sitting on a rooftop replacing tiles. Naturally, once the information circulated, everyhar around them downed tools and sought out their superiors. Moon noticed groups of hara glancing up at him and Tyson and knew they were being discussed. He was consumed by a raw burst of anger. They were in danger and Cal had put them there. It was likely the Teraghasts would now turn on them, and at the very least incarcerate them.

  “What should we do?” Moon said. “Where is Cal? Ty, I'm not happy about any of this.”

  “Let's just go and ask what to do,” Tyson said. “Be co-operative, remember?”

  Moon grimaced. “I wonder if that will be any good to us now.”

  They descended the ladder against the building. Moon followed Tyson to their supervisor, who was surrounded by a group of workers, all talking at once. Tyson adopted his most respectful tone and asked the supervisor what he and Moon should do.

  The Teraghast stared at them coldly. “You will be escorted to your quarters,” he said. “If the time for conflict has come, pray that it will be of short duration. I doubt any of us will have time to concern ourselves with bringing you supplies for a while.”

  Back in their quarters, Moon and Tyson sat out in the courtyard, straining to hear anything they could beyond the wall. There were sounds of great activity, but it was difficult to discern any useful details. Ever since Cal had told them about Aleeme, Moon had been filled with a heavy sense of dread. He couldn't bear to think of his friend suffering alone somewhere within the fortress. Perhaps Aleeme was already dead.

  Moon had been too frightened to take aruna with Tyson again, and he sensed Ty felt the same, because it hadn't been mentioned. They slept in each other's arms and were in every other way intimate, but actual aruna was beyond them. Ever since they had been together, Moon had felt strange inside. He was not in pain, nor felt damaged exactly, but it was as if a window onto infinity had opened within him. It was a hollow feeling that made him feel unsafe and disconnected from the world. Now, as the day lengthened into evening
, Moon leaned against Tyson's chest, trying to find comfort in the contact, and not being too successful. Dusk was coming, soft as a veil over the landscape. What could they do? The idea of rescuing the Parasilians seemed ridiculous now. They would be lucky to escape with their own lives. He closed his eyes and thought about how wonderful it would be to descend into a comfortable darkness and then wake up and find it was all over, just a terrible dream. Then, in the blackness of his mind's eye, he saw a point of light, and a familiar presence brushed up against his consciousness, like the tail of a cat.

  Moon drew in his breath sharply.

  Tyson murmured, “What is it?”

  Moon pulled away from Tyson and sat up. “I think...” he said. “Ty, I'm going to try and contact Pellaz.”