They despise us.
Only because they’ve all found their sons and daughters and husbands in our arms. They’re jealous of us, the gods of love and desire at the temple of sex! The boy danced, waving his arms where long flowing fabric clung to him.
If we be gods then all the gods must be this hungry.
Aye, ever seen a wolf? They don’t exist on much these days, I’m told. Ah, here’s my man! Save my spot, aye? If I’m not back in an hour’s time, know I’m dead or saved, he laughed and skipped into a short Garasun man’s arms.
Azura continued stroking himself as the other young men around him hooted or told him to save it for later or scolded him for giving for free but Azura’s hand did not slow or speed up, rhythmically bringing his hand up and down, his fingers tight on the spine of his penis, pulling back his foreskin and covering the head once more.
A woman approached but turned away when she saw the paint on his eyes. He sat and leaned back on the steps watching the clouds drift across the violet sky, still touching himself, his palm wet and his breathing slowed to keep his blood steady. Red dirigibles floated across the sky, their bottoms reflecting lights, gleaming brightly.
The shadow cooled him and he turned, squinting at the silhouette standing over him, Aye?
I, um. I got coin. A lot, or, uh, the shadow broke off and shifted weight, I got coin.
Azura tugged slower, pulling back the foreskin revealing the purple tumescence of his bulb, Aye?
The shadow turned its head from side to side, his voice weak and cracking, I, uh, I heard, the shadow stopped and dropped its head.
Azura lifted his legs, rolled onto his shoulders, and hopped to his feet to see the shadow. Pallid with the flat face of Garasun, his robes light and blue. What you want then? Azura put his hands behind his head.
The man’s eyes dropped to Azura’s waist, face, waist, face, I got coin.
Aye, I heard, now what you want?
I, the man coughed, his body bent over by them, several in quick succession, deep and wet in his lungs.
When he finished, Azura took his hand, Don’t be nervous, he smiled, There’s lots who go their first time alone and in secret, his voice consoling, and then he led him into the darkness of the temple.
All the world’s at war.
Aye? Heard it was only Drache and Garasu.
Wha ov the Dragonlords and Glass fighting? Even Federation’s in like. Hear was vem vat begot all it, aye. Wha I heard, aye, it was.
Why would the Federation fight like? Wasn’t them the peaceful ones?
Not a one of them is peaceful, mate. Not a one.
Free and ruled by mob like, wha’s to be expected?
We don’t fight.
Luca can’t fight. We got no one to do the fighting and no one to tell us to fight.
Merchant run best, aye?
Aye.
Who you think’ll last?
Dragons.
Aye, heard they’re terrible.
They’re worse.
You seen em like?
Not I but anover.
Light swirled inside his head and all the world disappeared, a crescendo of emotions and visions and sounds filling him and then the touch everywhere. Hands, hundreds, thousands running over every molecule of skin and reaching through and into him, caressing each atom, filling him with a light, with a hundred shades and hues, with a luminous song radiating through the depths of him.
The Angel held him, Its lips on his, Its tongue deep in his mouth as they hovered high above the ground near the apex of the dome covered with frescoes depicting the day the Angels were born and left the wolves behind and took to the skies. Its white wings stretched wide and Its perfect body enveloped him, building him from the inside out, speaking directly to the essence of his human body longing to be more. Angelic.
Entering the Angel, he fell into a hole without a bottom but blaring with light.
Shine a light in me, he said and the Angel gasped, pulling him deeper, consuming his heart and body, making it more, filling it with the Light.
The Light poured in and even as he penetrated the Angel, it was him who was made full and he released all that he had into the Angel who floated him down to the marble altar.
The Arcane’s feet touched down but the Angel held his hand, steadying him against gravity. His body weightless and his mind drifting, full of supernovae and nebulae, every atom vibrating, on fire, a thousand visions flying through him and the power of eternity spread to every molecule, disintegrating cell walls and changing the flow of energy, unrestrained and infinite within him flowing directly from the world, from the Light and Its echoes erupting inside him.
The Angel towered over him and he smiled at It. The Angel’s eyes shifted color, wavering through blues and reds and purples and never stopping but always swirling as if they were made of storms. Its pale incandescent body squatted, then leapt into the sky, beating Its wings, sending gusts into him and he fought to stay upright, openeyed, watching his love disappear through the hole in the dome to enter into the purple sky.
Master, the children are here.
The cocoon unravelled and the Arcane turned to his apprentice, a large Drache with wisped facial hair, Let me get dressed.
The children sat outside the circle of the altar, which was housed by the high dome, and the Arcane stood before them, his trousers clinging to him and the Soarean tunic flowing from his arms.
This is the sanctuary of the Angels, deep and resonate, he waved to the great dome and altar. Within here is the land of the Angels and the only place they set foot. For this reason, you will not be able to step inside, for the Angels will not address or have dealing with mortals. It is only through Arcanes that we understand and know the Angels. Now, where are you from?
The children did not speak but shifted uncomfortably on the ground.
Master, they’re a mixed group from all three countries.
Do they understand Limpa?
I believe so, master, he bowed.
The Arcane snorted, Which language should I speak? Spreche, Limpa, or Garasun?
A few voices said Limpa and the Arcane continued, It is the year 15,089, seven thousand years since the building of this Shrine and the first time the Angel graced humans here with Its presence. He held his head high, his eyes slightly opened as he paced and gestured stiffly this way and that, discussing the structure of the shrine, its history, and the relationship between humans and Angels as depicted in the murals splashed on all the walls.
Malik sat alone at his stall amongst the women.
Where’s Azura, aye?
Aye, when’ll Az squirt out your little bastard like?
Malik smiled and kept his head low, She’s busy being pregnant.
The women laughed and slapped his back, Pregnancy should be a man’s work, aye? Aye, does no good for a woman to be laid up like. But only a woman’ll be strong nough to carry on like, aye? Aye! We all know a man can’t merchant, aye? Aye! Look at your man vere, don’t you even know the price, aye? They laughed and harassed Malik who sweat through his Garasun robes and kept his head low, not meeting their eyes.
Wha’s all vis ven? A small and fat Vulpen girl picked up a red shawl and waved it through the air.
That, uh, Malik cleared his throat, That’s the finest Soarean silk available in all of Luca. No, in all the continent!
Wha’s a Soarean, aye?
Malik licked his lips and swallowed, The legendary Empire of Soare, far across the mountains of the south and deep in the endless desert. The husbands of gods, lovers of Angels, they’re a people only rumored of but we, I, have the proof that brings these mythical people to life and you hold one such artefact in your hands. The eternal blood runs through their veins and comes out through their silks. You’ll never find such, he broke off as the girl was already walking away, the shawl in a crumpled lump upon his table.
The women roared in laughter, Did you see your man vere trying to sell poor girl stories! Aye aye aye, look at h
im, can’t believe his own self like. Wha’s matter Malik, boy? Can’t you even vink for a moment bout wha a girl like vat wants a little bit ov cloth for? Imagine if we all left vis to the men? We’d starve is what’d happen, aye? Aye!
Malik refolded the shawl and arranged it neatly upon the others and smiled at the many faces who walked by.
Toran washed his bleeding face outside the deserted Fox Shrine at the northend of Luca. At the edge of the forest, it stood in red and black guarded by two foxes, each a meter tall baring fangs, their ears back, untouched by age and weather. A barrier between the edges of civilisation and the vastness of the wild and natural world. He spit the blood from his mouth and tongued his loose canine tooth sending jolts of pain through his body. Putting the ladle back in the abandoned purifying basin, he stared into the darkness of the forest, smelling the wetness of autumn and the change of leaves, and then at the statues leering at him through the centuries.
He turned back from the clearing, the Anthill rising before him, brown and reeking. An amorphous architecture, the many cells honeycombed atop one another and latching onto their neighbors. Three meters by two meters by two meters, all compact and stuffed with humanity, the walls crumbling, patched by mud, the ground beaten and uneven, their tenants a fluctuating class of humanity comprised of tenuous families and thousands of orphans. Hanging his head, with every step the soft grass disappeared and became dirt and then mud sliding over a layer of rubbled gravel.
The clay between his toes and the stench of feces and urine acrid in his eyes and mouth, he carried on through the winding alleys up the Anthill passing naked children defecating from above, playing below, and screaming from everywhere. A group of teenage boys watched him, their eyes painted, their faces pierced by metal bars, the rags disintegrating from their skeletons. Fits of coughing punctured through the din of thousands of lives crowded on top of one another, beating inside each other, a hive of humanity, festering.
Entering the hovel through the thick curtain, he nodded to Onca and Yuki who gaped at him as he disappeared behind his curtain.
Raol looked at his father and then picked up Beata, her body limp. Waking, she yawned and rubbed an eye with her tiny fist, Da, her voice slipping from the depth of dreams and into Toran, stirring his fragmented lungs as a breeze through leaves.
Hello, my heart, he took the girl from Raol and bounced her, Let’s go to sleep like, aye?
Raol chewed off the skin on the tips of his fingers but Beata said, Da, and touched the contused cheek, Wha happen?
Toran, a laugh or a cough or tears retching from him, Noving, B. Noving at all, he laid her upon the straw collected in the corner where she frowned and rolled over falling back into the ocean of dreams.
Raol pulled skin away and Toran told him to stop so he bit his lips, his eyes large spheres in a cavernous face.
I need, Toran sighed, I’m gonna see iv I can rustle someving up, aye, he touched a hand to Raol’s shoulder but Raol only stared back, unblinking, ripping the layers of skin from his dry lips.
Onca bent over by her cracking cough, Toran left the hovel and Raol cuddled Beata.
Outside, a light rain, Toran wrapped his thin arms round him and watched the ground suck at his feet. Above, the thinclouds spotted with moonlight created faces and children swarmed through the alleys and up the collapsing walls of the ghetto, their numbers growing, they beat against the walls and howled into the night.
Toran wandered through the narrow alleys and spoke to no one, pushing past the many faces and bodies stopping him, offering him this, begging for that. The long descent to the market, the claustrophobic walls of the Anthill opened to the wide expanse of the market, the dusthaze thin in the air, given shape by the few lamps yet burning, the dance of particles revealing the directionless wind, all the merchants and their wares gone but hundreds wandered about, some copulating, most drinking rather than eating.
Heading west towards the temple, he walked faster and kept to the shadows. His breathing shallow and his heart rapid, he stood across from the steps where the boys loitered, a performance, the illusion of boredom, of indifference, their waifish forms turned dramatic in the chiaroscuro lent by the faint lamplight and the glittering of the piercings, the deeper shadows along their tattoos and brands.
Azura coughed blood into his hand but wiped it on his thigh without looking at it. Raj and Rej flanked him from both sides and looped arms through his. Rej batted his eyes, See vat like, aye? Joined by graces of womanly flesh tonight. You see vat, aye?
We see it, Rej, said Raj, Can you believe it, though, Zur? Ten to one says she’s Garasu.
Azura coughed a laugh, What’s to be bet?
Raj and Rej beamed, Well, we’ve talked like, aye? Aye, we’ll take a night wiv your man here, Rej grabbed Azura’s genitals while Raj tweaked his nipple causing Azura to squirm free of them.
Rej fell backwards, rolling on the steps, his laughter echoing in and out of the temple. Raj clapped his knees, Sometimes, Z, we just don’t know what to do with you!
Azura smiled and held in a cough, his chest spasming weakly, Sometimes girls need coin is all.
Aye, but it’s quite another thing for a woman to sell.
Rej rolled back to his shoulders and pushed with his hands and rolled back to his feet, Noving wrong wiv selling like, but doing it in public. It’s foul, aye? A woman doing someving like vat for all the world to see? Imagine what her man vinks?
Maybe she don’t have a man.
I’m with Rej on this.
You’re always with Rej.
I am Rej, Raj laughed.
Nah, no, someving’s never right bout it. I seen and met a few girls who sell like and someving’s always different bout it. Look at the way she stands vere like, tits all out and wet glistening like like like and she’s like she’s built vere not even moving a little, aye? Weird, aye? Not even playing the game like, simply waiting. See your man vere, they’re scared. Everyone knows it’s off seeing a woman out here like. Nah, no, someving’s got to be done. Z, you gotta make her move. Wiv her standing there like noving’ll happen. Everyone’s scared, aye?
I’m not.
I fecking am!
Come on, Zur, go talk to her.
Look, no, this guy’s going. She’s got a man.
Toran approached, his body slick with sweat and rain but his mouth dry and so he smacked his lips and licked them. The rain stopped and he watched her feet but kept darting back to her naked breasts, wet and glistening in the softlight. I, are you?
She stared but did not respond to his movements or his words.
Aye? You worship, uh, Toran looked around and swallowed seeing the many painted eyes on him, Are you?
Without looking at him, her voice weak and rasped, Let me touch your face.
Toran’s face pulled in several directions, his eyebrows tight and high, his lips sucked in, he approached her outstretched hands.
Touching first his chest and tracing his sternum to his neck and jaw and then his face. Lightly, her fingers traced the contours and topography of his face, You’re hurt. But you’re beautiful.
A shuddering smile grabbed his lips and he opened his eyes to her wide smile and he stared into the fog of her eyes.
Rej’s breath hissed in, Vis won’t end well.
Azura frowned and looked to Rej who tucked Raj’s head away as the grunt and scream cracked through the din of the night. Rej closed his eyes and shook his head while he stroked Raj’s, Sh, heart, your man should’ve known like.
Azura turned to see the slumped body on the ground and the other running from the screaming blind woman. Maybe now we’ll get some coin, he said.
Alexander and his companions walked through Luca. The market, an immense circle stretching from the port at the west to the great dome of the Shrine of Angels at the east. The noise of commerce and art and theatre filled the air along with the thick dust from thousands and thousands of trampling feet. Drache women breathing fire while magicians manipulated the flames
into great bellowing dragons shooting through the sky. Makeshift theatres performed on the dirt, on a small wooden stage, and through the crowds, their constructed reality bleeding into that of the market’s.
He inspected items, fingering the jewelry from across the continent, from across millennia. He picked up oranges the size of his head, berries the size of his fists, foods from the depths of the forest to the fields of Vulpe and Garasu. Magical items, the skins of gods, the eyes and hands of demons, the wings of an Angel, the teeth of Ariel, the machinations of Yiyuyan, and fire from Caliban.
A man sat playing a sevenstringed instrument, a mix of singing and screaming surrounding him, driving a circle of listeners rapturous as he beat on the wood, thrashed at the strings, intermixing melody, soft and graceful touches, plucking with his fingers and thumbs, then strumming quickly, his song blasting from harmony to dissonance as if the person within the body was breaking.
They laughed and stared, awed and disgusted by the nakedness, the push and pull of bodies colliding and the crowd becoming a single entity with no will or design but a flow that carried their feet along the beaten trails and into the labyrinth of stalls and theatres and performances, of bodies and songs, all for a negotiable price.
Rapidly, a wooden stage thrust through the crowd, the actors, all women, ran atop it. One wearing the lacquered mask of a fox, the other a dragon, and another the crown of Glass. They chased one another across the stage and through the crowd, shouting gibberish, each a different form, mutually incomprehensible, and they beat one another, a slapstick and high-energy performance which did not end but escaped into the crowd.
His head swimming, Alexander stopped and was pushed by Frederic and Elrik who caught him even as they knocked him over, apologising and wiping the mud from his trousers.
An eyeless child with thin skin stretched tight over a frail skeleton approached them as they caught foul air at the edge of the tumultuous sea of colliding worlds and words. The child whispered through cracked lips and held out its palms and Elrik kicked it away, Savages, he said, and Willem spit, but Alexander kept watching the crowd.
Twilight of the Wolves Page 4
