The Wraiths of Will and Pleasure

by Storm Constantine

  ‘What do you think?’ Flick asked Lileem, as she sat, lips pursed, brow furrowed, concentrating on the sick creature before her.

  ‘He is similar to how Mima was,’ she answered. ‘His mind is far away.’ She glanced up. ‘He will never be like you.’

  Flick had been telling himself that he was looking for some signs of improvement before he considered the arunic aspects of Terez’s condition. He realised now it was something he was trying to avoid. Everyhar knew – or at least had been told – that aruna after althaia somehow made permanent the changes of inception. If only he knew more about the mechanics of it – what exactly aruna did. Was it to do with receiving the energy or essence of another har, or chemical changes within the inceptee’s body stimulated by the act itself?

  To Ulaume, it was becoming increasingly obvious that he must intervene in the Terez situation. He harboured resentments for Flick, the har who had swept into his life and taken over his household. He couldn’t deny the benefits of Flick’s presence, but he had a prejudice against Sarocks that was difficult to dispel. Ulaume had come to care for Mima, and Flick was wrong in assuming that Ulaume hadn’t thought long and deeply about what should be done for Terez. Ulaume had simply come to the conclusion that he could do nothing alone and that Flick couldn’t, either. Neither could Mima or Lileem assist.

  Ulaume knew there was only one thing they could try. He wasn’t sure it would work in the way that everyone would want or that a perfect har would arise from the husk of Terez afterwards. He wasn’t sure if his idea wasn’t dangerous. But at night, he had to listen to Mima weeping softly in the room next to his own, or hear her pacing the creaking floorboards, and he knew that eventually he would have to do something. It would mean thawing with Flick and that was the second thing that prevented him acting, because Ulaume took a long time to forgive or to drop a grudge. Flick reminded him of what he considered to be the worst aspects of Pell. They didn’t look that similar, but there was a certain manner and attitude, presumably deriving from Saltrock inception itself, that they shared. Capable, industrious, considerate and disciplined. Perhaps the opposite of everything Ulaume thought himself to be. But in this instance, the combination of personalities, however at odds, might work in Terez’s favour. No doubt, if Terez could be healed, he would be another fawning devotee of the accomplished Flick, which would be extremely annoying, but if it brought harmony back to the house, then it would be worth it.

  Once the decision was made, Ulaume brooded over it for several days, chewing each detail in his mind to try and divine possible outcomes. Lileem knew he was considering something important, because she kept casting him knowing glances, but he’d reveal nothing to her. He and Flick must do this alone. It was their territory.

  One evening, while Mima and Lileem addressed the unpleasant task of feeding and cleaning Terez, Ulaume went into the kitchen and found Flick there, cleaning Ghost’s saddle and bridle by lamplight. The mere sight of this industry initiated a spasm of annoyance in Ulaume’s heart, but he gritted his teeth and went to sit opposite Flick at the table. Flick glanced up, smiled tightly. Ulaume could feel discomfort pouring off his skin. Flick hated to be alone with him.

  ‘This Terez business has gone on for over a month now,’ Ulaume said. ‘The meal of blood did not work, and neither have your other experiments.’

  Flick shrugged awkwardly. ‘There is a gradual improvement. His skin is clearing and he’s put on a bit of weight.’

  ‘Don’t kid yourself,’ Ulaume said. He paused, then added, ‘There is something else we could do.’

  Flick’s hands fell idle. ‘Has it anything to do with pillows, poison or blades?’

  Ulaume smiled. ‘No, not at all. It might work, it might not. I don’t think we could guarantee what would come out of it, but we could try.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Grissecon,’ Ulaume said. ‘Ritual aruna to create a healing elixir.’

  Flick began cleaning the bridle again, perhaps with too much concentration for such a mundane task. ‘I’ve seen that done, but it takes hara of high caste to do it. I’ve never done anything like that.’

  ‘I have. Not for healing exactly, but I’m familiar with the process.’

  Flick’s brow was furrowed and his face was flushed. Ulaume had never seen a har so riddled with discomfort. ‘We are not friends, I know,’ he said, ‘and this won’t come easy. But you were the one so keen to do something about Terez, and this is a possible solution. Are you no longer prepared to try anything?’

  ‘I don’t think you mean it,’ Flick said suddenly, throwing down the bridle in a clatter of harness buckles. ‘I think this is just another way to make life difficult for me here. Maybe a Kakkahaar can take aruna with somehar they despise, and maybe you know I can’t. I’m not stupid.’

  ‘I didn’t realise you despised me. Thanks for being so honest.’ Ulaume couldn’t help laughing.

  ‘I don’t…’ Flick shook his head. ‘I didn’t expect this. Not from you. I can’t help but suspect your motives.’

  ‘The motive is to help Mima. Not sure about Terez, because I’m still not convinced he isn’t beyond help. But if there is a chance, we should perhaps take it.’ He paused. ‘Wouldn’t Pell want us to do this?’

  ‘That’s low,’ Flick said.

  ‘Not at all. It’s the truth. I can’t believe I’m trying to persuade you to do this. I don’t have to. I don’t have to listen to insults.’ He stood up.

  ‘Give me time,’ Flick said. ‘I have to think about this.’

  ‘We are Wraeththu,’ Ulaume said. ‘Perhaps we have forgotten that, living here. We have run away from our lives, and we have tried to detach ourselves from all that we were. But you were the one who said Terez was our responsibility. You were the one who wanted to help him. The rest of us are just living with the consequences, and they are not pleasant. That is what you should think about.’

  Ulaume left the room before Flick could say any more.

  The following day, Ulaume avoided Flick to give him space to think. He had to admit to himself that the idea of becoming close to another har again was not without its delights, even if that har was Flick. He was physically very attractive, despite his annoying traits. Ulaume had trained himself not to miss aruna, but the desire was always there, deep within. If we do this, Ulaume thought, it will initiate many things. It will create changes.

  Perhaps these were needed changes. Ulaume believed Flick wanted their home to become the new Saltrock. Many times, the possibilities of other hara finding them there had been discussed, albeit lightly. Ulaume knew that Lileem desperately wanted it to happen.

  Before dinner, Ulaume went outside to watch the sunset. A beautiful purple red light tinged the land. Cicadas purred in the acacia trees and the coyote made her song to the night. In the early days, Ulaume had thought the animal might become a sort of dog-like pet, but once they’d moved into the house, she’d gone back to her wild ways. Sometimes they heard and saw her, but the time they’d been almost like friends had long gone. She’d had a small but important part to play in their little drama, but now it was over.

  Flick came out of the house, wiping his hands, which were damp from peeling vegetables, on a ragged towel. Already, appetising smells were drifting out of the kitchen window. Flick sat down beside Ulaume on a shallow flight of ornamental steps that led to a pond with a dry fountain. He cupped his chin with his hands, his elbows resting on his raised knees. ‘When?’ he said.

  Ulaume pointed up at the sky where a waxing moon pulled herself out of the distant cordillera. ‘Anytime between now and the full moon,’ he said. ‘You know that.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Flick shifted uneasily. ‘Tell me what you propose, apart from the obvious.’

  ‘Outside, at the falls. It is a good place. We call upon one of your dehara – you should decide which one and how to address them – and we tell them what we want to do and ask for their help. Then, we perform the Grissecon. It’s not that different from any othe
r ritual really, apart from the aruna aspect. I will be ouana, you soume. That seems the best approach.’

  Flick nodded slowly. ‘I can see that. Should we tell the others?’

  ‘We tell Mima we are doing something, but mustn’t get her hopes up too high. We will ask her to keep Lileem inside, who will be bursting with curiosity to observe. I would prefer to do this without an audience.’

  ‘Me too!’ Flick exclaimed. He rubbed his nose with both hands. ‘Tomorrow night. That will give me time to write something down. I need to think about it.’

  ‘You spend too much time thinking, but OK. Put some ideas together and show them to me.’

  ‘The only rituals I’ve done here with the dehara have been with Lileem and they were just light, nothing much. This will require something more powerful and focused.’

  ‘Good practice, then. You’d better see to dinner. I can smell burning.’

  As Ulaume thought, the mere mention of a new idea to help Terez caused Mima to become a fountain of hope. He trusted he and Flick wouldn’t disappoint her. Somehow, he didn’t think they could fail. This Grissecon would involve a sacrifice, that of their own feelings towards one another, and he was sure this would empower the ritual. ‘Sit with Terez,’ Ulaume said to Mima. ‘You and Lileem can concentrate on his well-being. I think it will aid what Flick and I intend to do.’

  Mima, who never touched anyone impulsively apart from Lileem, wrapped Ulaume in a quick, fierce embrace. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I know what this must be costing you.’

  ‘Actually, you have no idea,’ he said lightly. ‘It’s a cost I’m willing to pay.’

  Over a frugal dinner of salad and water, Flick produced his ideas for the ritual. Mima had already taken Lileem to Terez’s room.

  ‘I thought that Aruhani should be the focus to start with,’ Flick said, ‘but then decided it should be Miyacala, who is the dehar most associated with inception. We must ask him to guide Terez back into himself, to complete the process that was arrested.’ He glanced at Ulaume. ‘You must use your knowledge to create the elixir.’

  ‘We should alter our state of consciousness,’ Ulaume said. ‘Usually, Grissecon is an elaborate event, with drummers, shamanic trance, the lot. We shall have to improvise.’

  ‘I have something we could use,’ Flick said. ‘A fungus that grows in the desert caves. I’ve used it before.’

  Ulaume pushed his plate away from him. ‘I’m still hungry, so that should aid the process.’

  Flick exhaled a shuddering breath. ‘I’ll prepare it now,’ he said. ‘We should get going.’

  He stood abruptly, knocking the table with his hip so that a glass fell over.

  ‘Calm down,’ Ulaume said. ‘You are a jangle of nerves. You’re making me nervous.’

  Flick mixed up a fairly noxious brew and he and Ulaume sat at the table to drink it. Flick was tense and silent and Ulaume was almost amused at how much of a trial this seemed to be for him. On the other hand, it wasn’t very flattering either.

  When the drinks were finished, Flick clasped his hands on the tabletop. ‘Is this the reason we’re here?’ he asked. ‘For Terez?’

  ‘For him, for Lileem, for Mima – who knows? Maybe all three. Maybe there is no reason and everything is coincidence.’

  ‘You and I meeting here? Coincidence?’

  Ulaume sighed through his nose. ‘Let’s go.’

  The night was almost too beautiful. Flowering vines that grew up the side of the house released a subtle fragrance and the breeze was warm. Overhead, the sky was encrusted with stars, so thickly that it seemed a thousand new galaxies had been born overnight, or a thousand dehara were trying on new jewels. Ulaume felt powerful and serene. In one sense, he was coming home.

  When they reached the falls, Ulaume said, ‘This is where Mima became… well, whatever it is she’s become.’

  ‘I know,’ Flick said. ‘She has brought me here before.’

  ‘What are Mima and Lileem?’ Ulaume said. ‘In my tribe, the shamans would strap them down and take a good look.’

  ‘In your tribe, they expose them in the desert,’ Flick said dryly, then softened. ‘I don’t know what they are. Part of me thinks we should take them somewhere – like to the Gelaming or something – and find out, perhaps find help, while another part thinks they’re safer here in isolation.’

  ‘Those are my thoughts also,’ Ulaume said.

  Flick began to unpack some lanterns he had brought with him in a bag. Each held a candle, which would be protected by glass from the gentle breeze. Flick arranged them in a circle. He placed some on the rocks around the water and hung others in the acacias. In the soft yellow light, he looked young, pure and troubled, and Ulaume felt a thousand years old with a dark history that dragged behind him like a lame hag. ‘You must consecrate me,’ he said abruptly, voicing a thought that had come unbidden to his mind.

  Flick glanced at him and frowned. ‘What?’

  ‘You heard. Surely you know how. Sarocks must consecrate everything.’

  ‘No, we don’t, but why do you want to do that?’

  ‘Because it is necessary.’

  Flick stared at him for a few moments. ‘In the water,’ he said. ‘Go into the water.’

  Ulaume took off his clothes and waded out into the largest pool. The moon was captured there, the water full of its cold white essence. Flick undressed with care and placed his folded clothes in a neat pile next to the untidy heap of garments that Ulaume had left on the bank. His skin was so pale he looked like a moon creature himself. It occurred to Ulaume then that Flick was afraid that this rite might contaminate him in some way. Flick knew the Kakkahaar reputation for dark magic and Ulaume could not reassure him, because he wondered the same thing.

  Flick stood before Ulaume in the water, some inches shorter than his companion. He raised his arms to the moon and said, ‘Lunil, dehar of the moon and of magic, I call upon you now and ask that with your white cleansing power, you consecrate this har, Ulaume, who is of the Colurastes and the Kakkahaar. Descend now from the mansions of the moon into this water and lend us your cold pure light. Enter into this har and cleanse him of all that is dark and unclean. Lunil, I ask this in your name, dehar of the moon and of magic.’

  Flick leaned down and scooped up some water, which he poured down over Ulaume’s head, stretching up to do so.

  Ulaume closed his eyes as the icy streams ran down over his face. Then he plunged himself wholly into the pool, opening his eyes upon glittering darkness. ‘If only for this night,’ he prayed in silence, ‘make me worthy of this.’ Flick’s narcotic brew must already be having an effect, for Ulaume could see small pointed faces in the ripples and bubbles around him. He could smell the moon.

  He came up gasping and shuddering, hardly able to breathe, because the water was so cold. Flick’s flesh was pimpled with goose bumps.

  ‘It is done,’ Ulaume said and, taking Flick’s arm, waded back to the bank. Here, he rubbed himself down with his shirt and Flick did likewise. The atmosphere was electric, but also sacred. Magic crackled in the branches of the acacias and sizzled in the blades of needle grass.

  In the circle of soft lamplight, Flick called upon Miyacala. Ulaume had read the invocations Flick had written, but it appeared Flick had decided to discard them. Now, he spoke from the heart, saying whatever came into his mind. It was a hypnotic mantra, repeated phrases tumbling over and around each other. At some points, Ulaume was moved to add his voice to the chant, and sometimes he was silent. With eyes closed, he could feel power circling around them, like a great beast attracted to a campfire in the desert. He fixed his entire being upon this force, because he must call it into himself. This was the power they must capture and weave into their union. This was the fire that would make liquid stars of their essence, with the power of the universe within it, the power to create and destroy. Miyacala, dehar of inception and initiation. Ulaume could feel this being’s presence. He could see him in his mind’s eye: immensely tall with lo
ng white hair, his eyes milky blind orbs, but whose brow blazed with a white star, which represented his true sight.

  Flick had fallen silent. He squatted before Ulaume, who knelt upon the ground, and took Ulaume’s hands in his own. ‘He is here,’ he murmured. ‘Give him the image of Terez. We must do so together.’

  Ulaume pulled Flick’s head towards his own and in the sharing of breath, so they conjured the image of the injured and incomplete Terez. Ulaume forced the image to change, to grow, to become whole. He could only offer an image of Pellaz, because that was the single template he had to go on, and he presumed Terez must look similar, under normal circumstances. Flick’s skin felt hot and feverish against his own. Ulaume was filled with a strange, immense stretched feeling as if he were part of the sky and it was yawning.

  Flick drew away and lay back on the ground, offering himself. In the moonlight, his soume-lam gleamed like pearl. He was not as reluctant about this as he’d seemed.

  Ulaume knelt before him and summoned the power into himself, directing it down to the root of his being. His ouana-lim had become the dark flower of creation, a spiral coral to slide into a spiral shell. The ocean, the sky, the moon. Elemental powers, circling stars. Ulaume uttered a cry of command. He was har, awake and alive, and he had just come back to his kind.

  Flick collected their combined essence in a small glass bottle. They held it up to the light of the moon. It was luminous, spiralling slowly, glistening with tiny stars of light. ‘It’s alive,’ Flick murmured. ‘Something different.’ His fingers were glowing with it.

  ‘Let’s use it now, then,’ Ulaume said. ‘Perhaps don’t tell Mima exactly what it is.’

  Back at the house, they found Lileem and Mima in an excited mood. ‘A little moon came in through the window’ Lileem cried as they entered Terez’s room. ‘A ball of white light hovered over the bed and then sank down into his chest.’

  ‘It was incredible,’ Mima said. ‘Did you do that? He’s been quiet ever since.’

  ‘It sounds hopeful,’ Ulaume said.

  ‘You are shining,’ Lileem said, ‘like the moon. What did you do?’