The Wraeththu Chronicles

by Storm Constantine

  Nanine put his hands in it. "Disrobe," he said, in a choked voice. After a pause, I turned my back and self-consciously pulled off my clothes. I could hear Nanine breathing deeply, changing the atmosphere of the room, summoning power. "So, what is it I must do?" I asked. Must I kneel to drink? I turned around. Nanine had adopted a position of submission, his male organs drawn in.

  "Drink," he said, and then I realized this was not a literal request. Soume is water; it had nothing to do with blood. As I've intimated before, my libido was not exactly a frisky young thing, galloping through fields of desire at the time. I felt exposed, pale and unhealthy—and not in the least bit ouana-active. Nanine called to me. He said, "My brother spoke of legends, and beauty such as yours is indeed legendary."

  "Is that supposed to encourage me or what?" I asked and he shook his head.

  "Not at all. Come." Still sighing heavily, I lay down beside him. His flesh was unexpectedly cool, but, as they say, the touch of Elhmen is always cold. I did not find it unpleasant. I bent my head to his own to share breath, thinking that this was as good a way as any to begin, but he put his fingers on my lips.

  "No," he murmured softly, "not yet." His arms came around me, pulling me close until I could feel the dampness of his blood against my skin. Far from repelling me, I felt a strange and insidious stirring within me. Nanine pushed me onto my back, leaning over me, showering me with hair. He took my wary, but not totally complacent, ouana-lim in his bloody hands, painting it with his blood, blessing me in the name of fire. The beast flexed its muscles and flowered beautifully. So fire and water must meet; to what effect I was unaware as yet. Bodies always take over when they get the chance, shouldering the intellect roughly aside. Mine has never been an exception. Sluggish

  maybe, but Nanine's touch gave it a whack on the back of the neck which woke it up. Consumed by a strengthening fire, I pushed him back and he offered himself passively. Without hesitation, I plunged deeper into the pool of his body, his soul, and drank deeply. Primary urgency subsided to a gentler tide; time was unimportant. Nanine could control his internal muscles; they felt as dextrous as fingers, regulating effortlessly the heights and calms of our communion. If I'd thought to be a fire to make steam in his water, I was wrong. I was merely a small, plunging ship cleaving a great and powerful ocean. One storm too vigorous and I'd be lost forever. The climax of this elemental fight was a roaring crack like thunder-bolts and lashing streams of ice. Panting upon Nanine's heaving body, I could feel that my hair and flesh were wet, not with sweat, but as if I'd been out naked in a heavy shower. I was cold. Nanine pushed me closer to the fire. I was trembling in every part of my brain and body. He whispered softly into my ear, small comforts one would give to an animal and, as I shuddered there, he bent his head to my own. We shared breath for the first time, and the warmth came back into my skin. In his mind, I could see a shining path, upon which I must walk. Terrors to right and left, but the path was strong. I sighed lay back, and Nanine wrapped me in his hair.

  "The legends are right," I said, "and Elhmen must have immeasurable power."

  Nanine just smiled. "Look to your soul," he said, "then, only then, speak of my power."

  I was far too tired to think about souls or power. I fell asleep.

  Concurrent with such events, you might expect that I woke up on the pallet, next to Panthera, trying to remember a weird and realistic dream;but no. It was Panthera who shook me awake, yes, but I was still curled up with Nanine next to the fire. Sunlight was falling in shafts from cracks in the cave's roof, illuminating all the darkest corners. Panthera curled his lip at me disdainfully and ordered me to get dressed.

  "We must get moving," he said sharply. "I don't want to be away from Jael for longer than necessary. I have work to do."

  "I didn't ask you to come!" I pointed out, just as sharply. I could see that it was in Panthera's mind to say, "That may be so, but you need me," but he was looking at the drowsy, sinuous form of Nanine and said nothing. I could hear him slamming around unnecessarily, pulling on his boots.

  "Will our horses and provisions still be safe?" I asked, wriggling into my shirt.

  "Of course, we are not thieves!" Nanine replied, but without rancor. "Now we must eat and refresh ourselves. Afterwards, I will take you to Shappa."

  "You!" Panthera snarled. "That won't be necessary. We can find our own way."

  Nanine shook his head. "Perhaps you can, but it will take you much longer. Control your hard feelings, son of Jael!" He smiled and Panthera colored vigorously. Nanine and I shared a conspiratorial glance. I thought it was Panthera's repugnance toward aruna that was causing the short temper.

  Arawn and the others began to drift in, bearing plates of food, greeting us politely. Nanine dressed himself in a robe of white muslin and let me plait his hair for him. Bound, it felt like rope. "Once," I said, "I was traveling in the southern desert of Megalithica. In that place lives a tribe named the Kakkahaar. It was there that we met a young har of the Colurastes; a venomous witchling if ever there was one. He had hair like yours. Occasionally, he would use it to throttle people."

  Nanine laughed. "You must be speaking of Ulaume, the consort of the Kakkahaar Lianvis."

  "Oh, you've heard of them?" I asked, surprised.

  "Well, of course; hasn't everybody? Lianvis attained quite a high position in the Council of Tribes in Immanion, once the Gelaming took control of Megalithica."

  "You're joking!" I exclaimed. The Kakkahaar, as far as I knew, were devout followers of rather dubious, dark practices. I couldn't imagine the saintly Gelaming tolerating any of it.

  "No, it's true," Nanine continued. "More than a few hara questioned the Gelaming's judgment, or motives, for it, but Thiede and the Tigron must know what they're doing, mustn't they?"

  "So we all suppose," I said drily, "or are led to believe."

  "Double standards!" Panthera snapped, throwing me a meaningful glance, which I wasn't sure how to interpret exactly. Naturally, all references to actual tribes and places had been disguised in Panthera's story the previous night. I wondered how much the Elhmen knew. Something, obviously, but what? Had they guessed Panthera's story was about me? As we walked to where our horses still stood, hobbled under the trees, I attempted to draw Nanine out on this. I could get nothing out of him. Was it possible that the Elhmen too had had some forewarning of our arrival?

  The horses' harness was wet with dew, our bags lying untouched beside our blankets. Nanine did not intend to ride, which Panthera complained would slow us down.

  "I know the quickest routes," Nanine said, "and most of the way, it will be impossible for you to ride anyway."

  We set off once more, following the course of the stream, up into the mountains. Panthera maintained a profound and sullen silence, which I decided was best to ignore. Round about mid-day, we approached a huge, natural arch of rock. It was possible to pass right under it, into a stone-choked gully which sloped briskly downwards, but Nanine pointed out an opening in the rock which appeared to lead right down into the ground on the left side of the arch. It was nearly hidden by bushes and tall, dead grass. Being on horseback was now out of the question; we were going underground. Nanine carried a carved, wooden staff which I thought was to help him scramble through the rocks, but as we entered the stone passage, he held it aloft and its farthest end began to glow with a soft, but penetrating light. We could see for about six feet all around, which was very fortunate, for once the passage turned a corner we would have been plunged into absolute blackness. The ground underfoot was packed hard, as if traveled by many feet, but Nanine explained that the passage was rarely used during the winter. Come spring, Elhmen hara started wandering about a little more. By summer, he said, the entrance would be clearly visible, even to those not looking for it. Occasionally, sections of the wall would be smoothed off and carved with patterns that were rather runic in design. The horses were awkward and nervous at first; the darkness worried them, the feeling of pressure, but Nanine crooned softly be
neath his breath and it seemed to comfort them.

  "Is this part of Eulalee?" I asked.

  Nanine, ahead of me, looked back. "No, it is merely a place where we can travel as the crow flies. Eulalee is deep, much deeper, beneath the mountains."

  "How far does it extend? Just the width and breadth of Elhmen?"

  "I can't tell you that," he answered. "Only the Sahale, the people of Eulalee know that. Elhmen only supervise the main thoroughfare, north of Shappa. Doubtless, there are countless entrances to Eulalee that no-one but the Sahale are aware of."

  "I see. Are the Sahale as hospitable to strangers as the Elhmen?" I enquired rather drily.

  "Oh, was our hospitality that lacking then?" Nanine replied with amusement.

  "Well, without Panthera's tale, perhaps . . ." It seemed impolite to continue."You are wrong," Nanine replied. "Arawn was only playing with you. We knew who you were."

  Rather belatedly, a dull, cold shock coursed through me. I stopped walking and Panthera cursed softly as he bumped into me. "What do you mean?" I demanded, and the echo of it sailed past us down the passage. Nanine turned around again. "Was it the Gelaming that told you? Was it?" Panthera was exuding a weird kind of satisfaction behind me; I could sense it clearly.

  "Not the Gelaming," Nanine said.

  "Then who?"

  "I cannot answer that. I'm sorry." He turned his back on me and continued to walk along the passage. "I can't believe you're surprised by this after what occurred last night, but if you are, then all I can say is, you must accept and learn. It is the only way for you."

  I made an exclamation of disgust.

  Panthera put his hand on my shoulder. "Let's keep moving," he said.

  We passed through vaulted caverns, natural cathedrals of rock, whose roofs were open to the sky. We passed underground lakes, complete with solitary, stone isles that rose like petrified monsters from the black water. We rested only when we were tired, for underground, there was no precise way of telling whether it was day or night outside, on the surface. Panthera and I would spread out our rugs in smooth, sandy hollows in the rock, whilst Nanine sat apart, cross-legged, meditating on the high, secret things that Elhmen ponder upon. The first time we rested, Panthera lay with his back to me, rigid and sulky. Was this unusual? No, not really, but I still said, "OK, spit it out; what have I done now?"

  "Nothing." His answer was muffled, but sharp.

  "That's funny. I thought you were angry because I took aruna with Nanine."

  "Oh, shut up!" he said, out loud and with disdain. The sound echoed clearly. Below us, Nanine did not stir.

  "OK," I said. "I won't say another word." Panthera did not answer. More to soothe him than anything else, I lifted the hair from his back and kissed his neck. He was still silent. I lay back and put my arms behind my head, staring up into the blackness above. "I don't need this," I thought. "Leave well alone."

  / dreamed.

  It is a hot, hot day. The sunlight is almost too bright to bear. lam standing alone at the edge of what seems to be a great battlefield; it is scattered with the debris of conflict. I can smell a hot, sweet yet sour aroma and the air is full of small, desperate sounds. Ragged birds investigate the flesh of the fallen. I cannot tell which tribes have been involved, or whether the fight has been between hara and humans instead. The Gelaming are in black leather and silver, their hair like haloes of steam, turning bodies, looking for survivors. I decide to follow them because I know they cannot see me. As I walk, the smell

  of carrion becomes stronger, a taste of sweet metal. A pavilion appears on the horizon and suddenly I am standing right in front of it. Two hara of obviously high rank are seated beneath a tasselled canopy, one on each side of a wooden table. Attendants stand silently behind them in the shadows of the tent. The seated hara are drinking sparkling wine from tall, stemmed glasses. The battlefield stretches all around them; a testament of carnage. I recognize one of them. The recognition comes slowly, but soon lam sure it is Zackala sitting there. The other has fair hair and the confident aura of someone who knows fame and power. He has a nasty wound above the left eye, blood in his hair, which is tied behind his head. There is another stitched wound on his shoulder. I can hear them talking, but not the words. Then, Zackala lifts his

  glass; sunlight makes it come alive with bubbling fire. He smiles. "To Cal," he says, "wherever you are ..."

  I awoke with a start, jerking back, and the darkness above me was spinning, writhing. There was an echo of a cry in my throat. Panthera leaned over me. "What is it?"

  "A dream," I answered. "Gelaming." There was a foul taste in my mouth, stale and sour.

  "Forget them!" Panthera hissed wildly. "Don't let them frighten you."

  "I'm not afraid," I said, and I could feel Panthera's breath above me in the darkness, but it was not the time.

  "Thanks," I said.

  "That's alright." He lay down again and I reached for his hand. Contact of fingers in the dark. He did not move away.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Sahale

  "For they are creatures of dark air,

  Unsubstantial tossing forms . . .

  In mid-whirl of mental storms.

  —Robert Graves, Mermaid, Dragon, Fiend

  From a distance, Shappa is virtually indistinguishable from the surrounding mountains. It is built entirely from gray stone; built into the rock itself, in fact. Nanine pointed out a curl of smoke rising above the city. That's how we knew where it lay. We came to a paved road, and here the Elhmen consented to ride doubled with me to save time. As we drew nearer to Shappa, other travelers joined us on the road, appearing from other tracks that converged onto the main route. Panthera and myself were regarded suspiciously but hara spoke to Nanine without reserve. The gates of Shappa loomed up before us, casting a long, black shadow on the road. There was a lot of activity, but the guards on the gate were still sharp-eyed enough to order Panthera and I to halt, so that they could examine our luggage. I can't imagine what they were looking for.

  Eventually, their curiosity satisfied, we were waved on into the streets of the city. As Shappa is built into the side of a mountain, one would expect the streets to be rather steep, but some of them are virtually impassable. All the ground is cobbled; mainly so that hara can have footholds as they climb. It is a very clean city; the buildings high and narrow. Shop-fronts are unobtrusive and not many of the inns provide tables outside; presumably, so that their customers don't go sliding down to the city gates after a few drinks! A lot of the buildings go way back into the rock, so that Shappa is a great deal larger than it appears from outside. Elhmen hara in Shappa seemed more sophisticated than Nanine and his brothers; they were primly dressed in long robes, their long hair woven, bound and confined in a variety of styles.

  "Well, first we find an inn," Nanine decided, "then try and hire you a decent guide to take you to Eulalee."

  "What do we need a guide for?" Panthera asked in a voice that implied he thought Nanine was spending our money for us unnecessarily. "Ask that again after you've been there," Nanine replied. It was late afternoon. Nanine led us to a hostelry he knew to be comfortable and cheap, leaving us alone while we scoured the streets for a guide. Panthera and I decided to sample some of the local food in the inn's dining room. We sat near the back window, which overlooked a yard whose floor was unleveled rock. Bright flowers bloomed in cracks; a chained, black dog stared contemplatively into

  space, head on paws. I could not help feeling that Shappa had almost a holiday atmosphere about it, as if it catered mainly for tourists.

  "It is the only stopping place before Kar Tatang," Panthera said. "And of course a lot of hara come here from other districts to take the air and mineral waters. There is a meditation center in Shappa, quite reknowned further east. Many rich hara send their sons here for caste education." "You haven't been here before though."

  Panthera shook his head. "No, although my father has, many times. The Jaels trade with Elhmen here; we have regular custo
mers. One of my father's paintings hangs on the wall in the foyer of the Meditation Center. Elhmen might be careful about which strangers are wandering about the countryside, but once you are known to them, visits are encouraged. If they feel they'll gain something from your presence, of course! You must remember, they have little to trade but their knowledge."

  About an hour later, Nanine turned up again with a young Elhmen har named Kachina, who was looking for work. He told us he'd already made fifteen trips to Sahen.

  "None of my clients ever complained," he said, earnestly. "I get them to Sahen by the quickest possible route."

  Nanine assured us that we would be in safe hands if we agreed to hire Kachina, and in pocket because his services were cheap. We saw no reason not to trust his judgment, even though Kachina did look rather young. We took our leave of the city early the next morning. Nanine embraced me and wished us luck. As in Gimrah, an invitation to return some day for a social visit was extended. Panthera waited grumpily. I had spent the night with Nanine in a separate room and Panthera's foul silence because of that was almost unbearable. We followed Kachina to the east gate of Shappa, where we took a northern path, cut through the rock. Kachina told us that, at Kar Tatang, the gate to Eulalee, we would be able to stable our horses at livery for a reasonable price.