"What are you doing?" I asked, too exhausted to move. I saw his eyes glow in the last
of the firelight.
"We must bury our sacrifice," he said.
We had been traveling southwest. In the morning, Leef consulted his compass and we turned true south. Banks of thick cloud filled the sky before us, untended fields and defiant stands of trees undulated away from us to the left, while on our other side, the skirts of the great forest hugged the cracked surface of the road we followed. In places the surface had been burst asunder by the roots of trees; we passed bundles of
rag that looked too hideous, too suggestive to investigate. Sometimes, we passed dead, burned out vehicles, sagging and rusting at the edge of the road, long abandoned. I wondered why they had been left there. Had men died in the rotted seats? Had the fuel just run out? I tried to open the door of one but was greeted by a puff of evil air, so did not look further.
I learned how quickly the earth takes back what humankind had taken from her. Buildings like empty skulls could be seen amid riotous growths of weeds and grass. A field of corn surged unchecked across the neglected yard of a farm. We passed a crossroads where something hung crucified, its legs hugged by clinging vines, white flowers blooming among the rags of its rotted belly. Cal was quite impressed by that sight. When the wind blew from the south, we could smell magic, the hairs on the backs of our necks would rise and we would be filled with dread and joy. Overall, the countryside seemed deserted.
One morning, as we packed up our belongings at the side of the road, half hidden by a scrubby copse, a galloping troupe of hara thundered past us on large, glossy horses. They wore long feathers in their hair, their faces were painted to look like demons; they paid us no attention. Cal looked at Leef and said, "Kheops?" Leef nodded. "Probably." They had no interest in us.
We came upon an inhabited town quite unexpectedly. Leef ordered us to halt. "We'd best go around. Into the trees," he said. Someone fired one or two warning shots over our heads, but no-one came after us. Whether humans or hara occupied the town was impossible to guess. Leef made us keep going for another two hours until he considered it safe enough to make camp for the night. I thought he was being too wary and mentioned it to Cal, who declined to comment.
We set up our tent among some thin, widely spaced trees. Noisy birds squabbled in the darkening foliage above us and feathers fell down into our fire. Leef organized us to keep watch for enemies throughout the night.
When it was my turn (in that dreadful cold time before the dawn that is truly the dead of night), I wrapped myself in my blanket and sat hunched by the fire, occasionally feeding it with small sticks and leaves and watching the sparks spiral and burn. I could hear Cal's gentle snores behind me; now and again Leef would mutter something incoherent. He had wanted us to put the fire out for, he said, the light might attract unwanted guests, but I had argued that the night was too cold for that. We were miles from anywhere and we hadn't seen a living soul for two hours. Eventually, if only so he didn't have to listen to my moaning, Leef relented and the fire stayed lit. Resting my chin on my raised knees, nursing a long-barrelled gun between my legs, I smiled to myself as I thought back on our conversation.
I must have been dozing; there's a vague memory of a dream even now, for suddenly I found myself thrown backwards with sickening impact. My mind immediately tried to rationalize: What is this? Has a branch fallen? As quickly as I thought that, rough hands covered my mouth; I had no time to call out. A voice said "Freak!" quite sanely and something punched me between the legs. Sparks seem to shoot right out of me, pain contorted my spine and the reek of foul breath blew over me like the stench of death. They covered my head with the blanket; I tried to struggle, but whatever had hold of me was too strong. There was a taste of vomit in the back of my throat; they were still kicking at me. I was facing death. I was powerless. Then there was a shout behind me, a sound as low and clear as a bell, followed by musical laughter. Had these attackers thought I was alone? Gunfire rolled across the night air in an echoing peal; there was a sound like a sack falling to the ground, guttural curses. Suddenly, not so many hands seemed to be pinning me down. On my back I tried to wriggle away, fighting with the blanket that filled my eyes. Another lightning crack and something heavy fell across my legs. I cried out as my groin reminded me of the assault it had suffered. In an instant the air became full of the sound of bullets flying, ricocheting off trees; horses jostling and groaning in panic. I heard Cal swear and Leef shout, "To your right, Cal!" "Oh, the sweet wine of blood!" Cal exclaimed lightly. Another heavy thud. Then he was untangling me from the blanket and laughing in my face, his eyes shining like stars. "You OK, Swift?" he said.
There was little to see really. A vile creature, quite dead, lay by my feet, gaping at the stars. Two others were sprawled over the remains of our fire. Cal was leaning forward, his hands braced on his knees. "God, I'm out of condition!" He did not look it.
"One to you, two to me," Leef observed cheerfully, counting bodies. "You fight like the devil," Cal remarked, bending to retrieve his knife from one of the corpses.
"I'm a Varr." Leef looked at me. "Swift, you were supposed to be on watch! Be more vigilant next time, will you? We were lucky; it could have so easily gone in their favor."
It had been men who'd attacked us. Now I had the chance to appreciate what Moswell had once told me about ugliness. The bodies were filthy. Inside their open mouths, I could see the blackened stumps of splintered teeth. The smell was abysmal. We dragged the corpses some yards away from our camp and covered them with branches and leaves. Leef decided we should leave the area straight away. It was possible that others might be near.
After that, we were much more careful, avoiding any signs of habitation, veering away from plumes of smoke above the trees.
"I think the settlement of the Amaha lies this way," Leef said, as our horses plodded along through a pelting rain.
"I hope so," Cal replied drily, "otherwise we starve." We had used up the last of the food from Galhea two days before and had been living off the land as best we could. Because of the time of year, there wasn't any fruit around, but we raided a field of root vegetables (tough and stringy, but still nourishment), close to a town we passed, and loaded our packhorse with them. I congratulated myself on my first kill. It was only a small animal, but it gave us a meal.The Amaha are only a small tribe, and while not warlike, vigorous in defense of their own property. They professed to have little time for the Gelaming, mainly because they were more interested in getting on with their own lives, tending their fields and caring for their animals. Their existence seemed simple, but I envied their contentment. The Varrs had traded with them for some years, as Amaharan cured meats and cheeses were regarded as a culinary delicacy in the north. The steady affluence such transactions had encouraged meant that the Amaha could decorate their most favored hara with gold and defend the walls of their town with weapons more effective than knives and spears. Not all the town of Ahmouth was supplied with electricity for they had only one generator, which, by the sound it gave off, seemed none too reliable. The buildings were single-story and sand-colored; many had thatched roofs and carved lintels. I was impressed by the neatness of the few short streets that composed the town.
Leef had been to Ahmouth a couple of times before and was familiar with Hiren, the Firekeeper, ruler of Ahmouth. Hiren was surprised to see Varrs abroad at this time, but did not ask too many questions. The Amaha had heard of Terzian's foray south but told us that, as travelers north had dwindled virtually to none, they had heard neither rumor nor truth about the Varrs' fate. They were not really concerned with the outcome but were interested in gossip. I heard Hiren muse aloud about whether the Gelaming would be interested in reopening trade with Ahmouth, should they take over Galhea. I think this, more than anything, made me realize that Varrs are not the center of the universe as I'd been brought up to think.
We were lucky that currency from Galhea could still buy us supplies. Hiren
offered us the hospitality of his house and then proceeded to name prices for the things that we required. He and his consort were like identical twins; both tall, fair and slim. They had three harlings, the oldest of which was about two years younger than myself. His name was Throyne and he seemed very interested in the fact that I was Terzian's son. Sitting next to him at the evening meal that first night in Ahmouth, I answered his questions as best I could, though there was a lot about my own tribe I was ignorant of. Throyne asked me what my caste was and what level I was on. It wasn't a subject I thought about often, but I was rather ashamed to admit that I was only first level
Kaimana. Throyne thought my training had been neglected because of the troubles with the Gelaming and expressed condescending sympathy. I remember smiling thinly. "My hostling has taught me many things," I said.
Later that night, because we were feeling comfortable and rested, Cal, Leef and I took aruna together, sharing our strength. I was soume and it was almost too intoxicating to describe what it was like to have both of them caressing me and penetrating me, filling me with the blue cloud of their spirits. Cal laughed and said, "Swift is insatiable!" and Leef had added humorously, "Swift is incomparable!" It was a happy time. Lying awake afterwards, while Leef and Cal greedily smoked cigarettes that Hiren had sold them, I found myself wondering if, on the road south, my father had sought company to relieve his spiritual and physical needs. I wondered whether, as the Varrs had eaten their evening meals beside their camp fires, Terzian had chosen someone and beckoned; whether that someone had been pleased or annoyed and whether I knew him. I told Leef what 1 was thinking (he would obviously know, if anyone), and there had been a moment's uncomfortable silence. My heart quickened its pace a little. "Well," I said, "who was it? You'll have to tell me now."
Leef reached over Cal to stroke my arm. "I don't really know why I'm reluctant to tell you. How can it possibly hurt now?" (That meant it probably would.) "It was Gahrazel. On that first time south, it was always Gahrazel. Sometimes we heard him cry out. Once I saw Gahrazel come out of Terzian's tent in the morning and take a knife and cut his own flesh. He watched the blood fall. It explains nothing, yet it explains everything. I was not surprised at what happened to Gahrazel."
"Why didn't you tell me before?" I demanded. My flesh had gone cold.
"I didn't want to. Why should I? Gahrazel is dead now; another Varrish casualty. He was born in the wrong place, I suppose. He rarely spoke to me."
I remembered the long gallery in Forever, morning sunlight coming in over Gahrazel's shoulder where he sat on the floor. "I hate what your father's done to me, Swift ..." I shivered. It was merely the tip of the iceberg.
We stayed in Ahmouth for two days and, I must admit, I was reluctant to leave. Our quest had become unreal. Away from Galhea I was no longer sure if the threat of the Gelaming still existed or if it ever had. I thought about going home. Dark clouds still hung in the southern sky. I did not want to go toward them. Leef did not ask me what I was thinking. He just said, "We must keep going, Swift; all of us." Cal had spent too much of our currency on tobacco. We squabbled amiably as the Amaha watched us ride away from their homes.
We headed back to the old highway and once the fresh, crisp air got into my lungs and the horses were trotting nimbly through dew-soaked grass, my spirits began to lift again. Cal started to sing and eventually Leef and I joined in. Near noon, the gray ribbon of the road could be seen snaking across the countryside ahead of us.
"Soon we shall reach the city," Cal said. "What city?" I asked. "A dead one." Leef s voice sounded bitter. "An amazing sight," Cal remarked. "Not the word I'd use," Leef said coldly.
The road became wider, its surface more broken. The abandoned vehicles we rode past were no longer intact but scattered like insect shells across the tarmac. Buildings became more frequent sights, but they were all horribly vandalized, as if torn apart by frenzied hands. Disturbingly, some of them gave off a feeling of still being lived in. We kept our guns in our handsand quickened the horses' pace, which was difficult, for there were so many obstacles to negotiate.
"Few ever come here by choice," Leef said. "The city is close. We shall pass around it."
"Is it safe?" I asked. "Is it deserted?" "Yes," Leef answered shortly, but his eyes were never still. "It was a man's city," Cal told me. "The reason it's now in such a sorry state can be put down to one cause; man himself. Unrest, poverty, bitterness. Bitterness that became anger and then hysteria. They tore it down themselves. Such a waste. Wraeththu consider it an unlucky place and sensibly shun it whenever possible. Some years ago, I passed this way and took a look around. I sort of liked it."
We breasted a steep hill, and the road fell away into a valley before us, the contents of which took my breath away. Once, towers of glass must have reared toward the sky; now they were broken off halfway up, fingers of steel poking through concrete, strangely sparkling, heavy vines creeping over them like a shroud. Listing telegraph poles leaned drunkenly away from us in disordered rows, streetlights stood intact, watching mournfully over flattened rubble. I could still feel the life that had once bustled here, just a vibration of the past, the thousands of lives that had once filled its buildings. It could have been only yesterday or a thousand years before. I stared entranced.
"Do men still live here?" My voice was an awed whisper. "If they do, I don't want to find out," Leef replied. "I never saw anyone when I was here before," Cal said. It took us several hours to skirt the city. I had never imagined a town could be so huge. It was scary, but the kind of scary that makes you want to explore. Cal and Leef wouldn't hear of it, and I was secretly relieved, though I pretended bravery. "It's just wasting time," they said, "and it may be dangerous. It would be senseless to go in there."
Before then, I had not thought that men had had real technology. I had only seen photographs and it was like looking at something out of a story. In that gaunt, sprawling ruin, I could see the vestiges of past greatness. Now it was too far gone for Wraeththu to rescue it. Cal said that Wraeththu should concentrate more on building their own cities anyway. They had stolen enough from men. It was too easy to do that. Nothing new could be gained from it. He began to speak, then, of Immanion, the Gelaming's city, that Thiede had built. He said that it was a true Wraeththu city. "Thiede must be very strong," I said.
"He is," Cal agreed, suppressing a shudder, but not before both Leef and myself noticed it. "He is strong, ruthless, clever ..."
"What does he look like?" I asked, and Leef repeated my question. Cal had actually met Thiede; to Leef and myself he was just a terrifying name.
"He looks like God," Cal said grandly, but that wasn't enough. We pressed for more details. "Well, he's very tall," Cal continued, screwing up his eyes to remember, "and he has red hair which is very long and spiked up over his head like a halo of fire. Naturally, he possesses unnerving beauty, and his eyes sometimes look yellow. He looks like a child and he looks a thousand years old. His fingernails are varnished claws that could take your eye out. He talks like an actor and pretends weakness. I must admit he scares the shit out of me!"
For a while we were silent, all of us thinking of the omnipotent Thiede. I was terrified that it would be him waiting for me at my journey's end, waiting to throw me my father's head before he killed me too.
Being on horseback all day and sleeping rough at night had been a great shock to my system at first. I never thought I'd get used to it. On the day after we'd left Galhea, my thighs had been rubbed raw, and the skin between my fingers. My horse was a headstrong yellow mare called Tulga. It amused her to fight with me constantly, tugging the reins through my fingers, never keeping her head still, walking sideways when the mood took her, no matter what instructions I tried to give her. It also grieved me having to feel dirty all the time. I was used to creature comforts and now it seemed I had only the comfort of creatures! Both Cal and Leef were used to traveling. They soon fell into a routine; it neither inconvenienced them nor did they appear to dislike it
. I had to get used to eating partially cooked food peppered with soot and grass and leaf bits. I had to get used to feeling tired all the time. After
some weeks, the discomfort did seem to lose its sting; I became inured to it. As we traveled towards the south, the air gradually became warmer; nights became more bearable.
Sometimes we faced hostility; it was impossible to avoid everyone. Once I had to fight for my life. I killed a man. It was not a momentous event for me, not even sickening. It had been either me or him; that simple. Luck had been on my side. Warm blood had touched my skin and I didn't even bother to wipe it off properly. Round about that time, we lost the pack-horse. We never found out what happened to it, for it just disappeared silently one night. Someone may have stolen it, or its tether may have come undone and it wandered off. We never found out; but of course, a lot of our supplies disappeared with it. Leef was furious.
The Wraeththu Chronicles Page 55