The Wraeththu Chronicles

by Storm Constantine

  "If you would like to relax, I will tell Tel-an-Kaa you have arrived."

  Groaning, I eased my bags off my shoulders, slumping gratefully into the cushions.

  Panthera went to look out of the window. "What's going on here?" he asked. "Why should a woman have such a high position in Roselane? Who are the Kamagrian?"

  "We can only wait and find out," I answered. "It's probably just a gimmick. I can't see me finding the answers to my problems here somehow. Its unreal. The Roselane seem to have lost touch with the real world. They're incomplete. Perhaps even weak."

  "You are quick to judge, Calanthe!" A warm, musical voice. I turned to look at the speaker, started to stand. "No, you can stay where you are. I am Tel-an-Kaa. Perhaps you don't remember me." She came into the light, a yellow-haired waif, very similar to how I remembered her—and that had been quite a long time ago. Either she, or her master, were indeed very adept. To halt the human aging process requires great power.

  "I trust your journey was comfortable," she said, as if this was some regular visit of no importance whatsoever.

  "Very, thank you," I replied. "The Lion of Oomadrah provided us with transport ..."

  "Yes I know." Naturally.

  Panthera was staring at her quite rudely; to him she was an anomaly.

  "You got here quite quickly," she continued. "Shilalama can be difficult for strangers to negotiate. Ah, refreshment. Thank you." A har came into the room behind her and set a tray down on the nearest table. Wine and cakes. Tel-an-Kaa sat down opposite me and poured the wine. "Won't you join us Panthera? I won't bite!" Such authority in a human was a little disconcerting. Panthera sat down gingerly beside me. I didn't really feel up to drinking wine (my stomach had enough acid to cope with as it was), but was pleasantly surprised to find it mild-flavored, gently sweet. "I expect you've been wondering what this is all about," Tel-an-Kaa said with a smile.

  "Now and again," I replied.

  She laughed. "All the secrecy, the moving about, it must have been very irritating but necessary all the same. Perhaps you realize this too now."

  "I'm not sure I do. I must confess I sometimes wonder whether you've been picking on the right har."

  "Oh, we haven't been picking on you! I'm sorry it felt like that. You were in such a mess, Cal. So damaged, so wounded. The healing had to take its course."

  "Well, I'm here now," I said. "So what happens next?"

  "You must dream."

  "Dream?"

  "Yes. You seek answers, but they are within you. They always have been. If this process had begun right after you saw Pellaz being shot inMegalithica, well... it would have been a lot easier for you. That's when it should have happened, a similar education to the one Pell had."

  "But it didn't, did it! What happened after that seems to have run up a karmic debt that I'm incapable of paying off."

  Tel-an-Kaa laughed. "Oh dear, always the pessimist!"

  "And what are you?" I asked. "Do I get an explanation for that? Why are you involved in my future?"

  "I am Kamagrian," she replied.

  "Is that a tribe? Is it the same one you were with in Galhea, the humans and hara together?"

  "The Zigane? No. Kamagrian is not a tribe. It is a sisterhood."

  "Human!"

  Here she paused, uncertain. "No."

  "Then what? You can't be harish."

  "Not in the same way that you are, no."

  "What do you mean? Was a way found to incept females after all?" That was incredible; too incredible to be true. If it was true, then all my conceptions about my race were about to be knocked off center.

  "We are not Wraeththu exactly, neither are we human," she said.

  "You're not explaining."

  "I'm trying to. Listen. Wraeththu are hermaphrodite, mutated from the human male body. I say body because, as you know, the soul is androgynous anyway. It was found impossible for human females to be mutated in the same way. No-one knew why. Was it biological? Spiritual? Why? The female has always been the driving force of the universe. The Goddess is life itself, love itself. And as she manifested her love for herself, the Goddess begat the God. He the mirror image of she; her complement. Her son is also her lover. Wraeththu philosophers, once the dust of their inception had settled, wrestled with this concept in respect of their own race. They knew the Earth was female in aspect to the Sun's fiery male. Animals are still divided into two sexes. Everything has its negative and positive polarity. How was this new race to cope with its physical form, to understand it? Thiede tried to outlaw love, but he was wrong and thankfully realized it. Love is the fuel of life, the gift of the Goddess to her beloved son, who sprang from her alone, without father. Wraeththu too are the sons of the Goddess; androgynous, but in the image of the God. Kamagrian are few and far between, but are also hermaphrodite. Made in the image of the Goddess, but as complete as she in light and dark."

  "Can the Goddess reproduce without the God?" I asked, somewhat cynically.

  Tel-an-Kaa smiled gently. "Kamagrian are not blessed with the gift of procreation as Wraeththu are," she said.

  "Then how do you . . . happen, if that's not a crass question?"

  "Not at all. One in perhaps every thousand Hara is born Kamagrian; a sport, a freak. However, the first was born to a human being, like Thiede was, and around about the same time as well. Her name is Opalexian. She lives here with us in Kalalim. She is our High Priestess."

  "If these Kamagrian are so rare, how do you find them? Do you have to go out and look for them?"

  She laughed aloud. "Oh no!" As we have sacrificed the gift of bearing life, we have been blessed in other respects. The psychic powers of the Kamagrian are far greater than those of Wraeththu. Our people find us. We have no need to search. We have also found that it is possible to mutate human females to be like ourselves, although the process is not always successful. However, a failed inception in Kamagrian terms (unlike Wraeththu) does not mean death or imbecility. It simply fails to 'take.' The woman is as she was before."

  "An advantage, but our way meant we only got the best."

  "And how do you judge what's best? Physical endurance? Isn't that rather masculine?"

  "No. I think you'll find the emotional and mental disturbance triggered the deaths, rather than the physical change. Does that screw your pious little theories up? You were human yourself once, weren't you?"

  "You thought that did you!" She laughed. "It was a good disguise, that's all. Kamagrian aren't as obviously inhuman as Wraeththu are. When you met me in Galhea, I was collecting refugees from Megalithica, under the guise of the Pythoness, as they called me. Opalexian has a hand in everything. She is not overt, as Thiede is, more uninvolved, discrete, careful. Wraeththu is Thiede's domain. She has never sought to be a great figure in this new world of ours, but neither is she blind. She saw Thiede making mistakes and, much as she didn't want to, had to intervene. Opalexian sees

  Kamagrian as here for those that need us, but we do not like to advertise our existence."

  "The Roselane know though. Will you be able to keep it a secret after this?"

  Tel-an-Kaa shrugged. "Who can say? The way the world is at the moment, some Wraeththu may not be too happy learning of our existence. Opalexian wanted them to come of age before we interacted. Thiede has forced this to be otherwise. Never mind. We're survivors. We have to be. The Roselane began from humans and discontented hara that I gathered together in Megalithica under the banner of the Zigane. We all learn together. Shilalama is a place of contentment. A pity that the outside world needs our attention."

  All of Tel-an-Kaa's disclosures were mind-boggling, to say the least. Wraeththu did not know as much as they thought they did. They worshiped the Aghama as a god, but now we discover he is neither immortal nor infallible. What were the mistakes Thiede was making? What had I got to do with it?

  Panthera and I were given a room on the second floor over-looking the garden. It was simple but comfortable, the bed but a striped mattress on thefloor
, strewn with colored rugs. Tel-an-Kaa pointed out the shower room to Panthera. "Someone will be up shortly to show you around," she said to him. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to take Cal away now." She turned to me. "Unless you want to freshen up first?" I shook my head. "No, let's get this over with, whatever it is. I've waited long enough." Panthera and I embraced in silence. There was little we , could say. If and when I ever saw him again, it would be after all this was over. As I let him go, he said, "I'll wait for you here, Cal."

  "No, not if it seems I'll not be back. Understand?" He nodded, looking so young and beautiful and sad. How could I leave him? Not without touching him again. I held him close and whispered in his ear, "Whatever else I feel for whoever else, I love you, Panthera. In my own way. I'll not forget you."

  I picked up my bag of notes and small momentoes and followed the slim figure of Tel-an-Kaa down the stairs, across the garden, into a passage that led deep into Kalalim where no light came from outside. If Panthera watched me leave, I'll never know. I couldn't bear to look back. We thought we'd said goodbye, but now I know that this must come later, and with greater poignancy.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Dreaming the Answers

  "Farewell, terrific shade! Though I go free

  Still of the powers of darkness art though lord:

  I watch the phantom sinking in the sea

  Of all that I have hated or adored. "

  —Roy Campbell, Rounding the Cape

  As we walked into the dimness, Tel-an-Kaa asked me if I knew anything about the Roselane. "They are known as the Dream People," she said.

  "I've heard that. Are the dreams prophetic?"

  She nodded. "They can be, but mostly they are inner visions. Like those of meditation, but the trance is much deeper. This is the state you must achieve, to go into yourself. Usually, it takes years of training; you don't have that much time. The experiences in Jaddayoth, the attaining of Algo-malid will help, of course, but I will take you in myself."

  "In?"

  "Yes, just in. You'll see. It will be a new experience for you, and I'm not sure how much I'll be able to help you should you run into trouble. You'll just have to try and listen to what I say."

  "Thanks for the comfort! Isn't this rather a long way around though? It seems to me that the Kamagrian must know all about what's going on anyway. Why not just tell me? Wouldn't that save even more time?"

  "And how much would you learn from that? You have gained much knowledge during your travels in Jaddayoth, enough to sort this out for yourself with the right help. The visions of Dream show you what is in your mind, as any trained meditator can do, but they will also show you things that are not in your mind as well. Other people's minds. From this you will gain strength, greater understanding. You will need it to deal with Thiede."

  "Deal with Thiede? What do you mean?"

  "Veils," she said. Very illuminating.

  She took me to a small room that had no windows. Cushions upon the floor, a single lamp. "Make yourself comfortable," she said. I sat down. "We'll go right in. Is that OK with you?"

  "Fine. I'm not very relaxed though."

  "Then we'll attend to it." She smiled. "Don't worry. I'll help you."

  It was all happening so quickly. Only a couple of hours ago, I had been sitting next to Panthera in Ariaric's car, flying above the mountains. In any other place, I'd have been given at least a few more hours (if not days) to settle in first. Wraeththu, generally, do not rush things.

  "Lie back," Tel-an-Kaa murmured. She lit a nugget of charcoal in a brass tray and sprinkled it with pungent incense. "Close your eyes. Get comfortable. OK?"

  I could hear the rustle of her robes as she sat down. Her gentle, clear voice talked me through a basic relaxation exercise, disciplined my breathing, opened my mind.

  "This is the first stage," she said. "Normally you would not need to go beyond it. Let go, I will lead you." All that caste progression and struggle had borne fruit. My mind slipped easily from reality, through the veil and she was waiting for me. "Ready?" A voice without a sound.

  I am falling, plummeting, down and down, faster and faster, almost catching fire with the speed of my fall. "Pull up!" Tel-an-Kaa commands. "Take control. This is not a visualisation." I "will" stop, and stop I do. We are in blackness. I cannot see the Kamagrian but sense her presence. "Make your world," she says. "Let it come."

  My world. There it is, spinning slowly, silver and green, spinning, spinning, until it is a shining bullet and there's a horse screaming, flying blood and bone; rain and blood; red and white. No! The image disintegrates in rags, circling around me, still mewing. "Will you ever face that?" Tel-an-Kaa asks. My core aches with cold.

  "Pellaz."

  I hold his head in my hands. On his brow a single star of blood that goes back and back. His eyes staring up at the rain. Rain in his eyes and he neverblinks. It was the screaming I hated the most. Those animals. Just mindless screaming. I lay him down on the wet earth and he becomes part of it, absorbed by the life-force. I look up. There's a spinning globe, green and silver, me on a red pony riding through a desert. Pellaz in a door way . . .

  We share breath and the link is forged. (I knew he was different, always knew it. Others did too.)

  I am walking down a narrow throat of rock, very dark. Doesn't smell too good either. I meet a har walking the other way, carrying a torch. He is robed in green, red hair, very beautiful. As we pass each other, he puts his hand on my arm. "You were deceived you know," he says.

  "By whom?" I ask.

  "Do you want to know? Then follow me." I turn around and walk behind him. The light from the torch is like a capsule; beyond it is black space. We come out onto a balcony, high above a city, and the torch in the red-haired har's hand has become a jewelled sword. "Take it," he says. "This is Phaonica." (Am I really here? Am I?)

  "Where is the Tigron?" I ask. "Take me to him."

  "Follow me." We walk along an opal collonade. Hara pass us by, hurrying alone or walking slowly in pairs. "Thiede has him," the red-haired har tells me confidentially. "He has the part of him that is yours."

  "Who are you?"

  "I am Vaysh. The Tigron's aide."

  "Vaysh as I see him or Vaysh as he is."

  "Reality in one context only. There are many."

  We come to a white hall with a statue of glass in its very center. Within the glass is a figure, bound in black rope. It's head is thrown back, the mouth open wide in an endless scream of impotence. It is Pellaz. Must I free him? How? Obvious really, the tool is in my hands. The torch, the sword. Light and Air. No, I'm afraid. I cannot lift my arm. Around me the room becomes dim, all the light condensing into the heart of the statue. Tel-an-Kaa is at my side, dressed in fish-scale armor. "You must hurry," she says. "Thiede will sense you. He will come. You're not ready for that."

  "Must I break the glass?"

  "Do as you feel."

  The sword is heavy in my hands. It takes an eternity to lift it. Then the air is full of chiming, of flying shards of light, stars spinning outwards, my face cut by flying glass and the statue is shattered. I can't remember doing it. I look around for Vaysh and Tel-an-Kaa but I am alone. Alone with the sinuously tumbled form of my beloved lying amongst the glass, cruelly bound. I kneel at his side. His eyes are closed. Black lashes against perfect skin. So young yet so old. This is but a dream. My lips against his brow where there is no scar. I cut the ropes and lift him in my arms. His clothes are dark and dusty. He is heavy. Through a dark doorway and into a garden, but all I am holding in my arms is a web of silk. I look behind me. There is no doorway.

  In the garden, beneath a shimmering tree sits a woman. Her appearance changes with every passing moment. "Thiede fooled you," she says.

  "What do you mean?" I ask and go to sit at her feet.

  "You think he didn't want you to leave the tower?"

  "He wanted me to return to Immanion."

  "If you believe that, you deserve to be fooled," she says.


  "It's just what I know. He wanted me to join the court." A wind comes up, suddenly, viciously, and the woman has become a black hag laughing in my face.

  "Know this!" she screams "Thiede has to keep you and his Tigron apart at any cost! You helped him! Fool!"

  I put my hands across my face, a reflex action. When I lower them, both garden and woman have gone . . .