storm (60 page)

            “Hush.”  Galdra pulled Pellaz into his embrace and kissed him.  It wasn't sharing breath, for he held that back.  It was a simple kiss, slow and languorous.  Pellaz realised he'd never been kissed before.  Not this way.  As har, he'd always shared breath, lost in visions and incense perfume.  This was purely physical.  The only comparable experience in his entire life was the time when Cal had seduced him away from home, before he was har.  And it could be Cal now, so easily.  It wasn't difficult to imagine.  He returned the kiss, holding back on the sharing as Galdra did, until Galdra released, as wisps of smoke, the finest shreds of impressions, like fleeting memories or the ghost of scent.  The kiss became deeper, evolving entirely into the full mingling of essence as waves of impressions washed through Pellaz's body.  He could hear the crash of the ocean, the scream of gulls.  The wind was in his hair.  And what could he offer in return, but the very essence of himself, alone and bewildered, caught up in a storm?

            Galdra pulled away from him with a gasp, then leaned his forehead against Pell's own.  “I love you,” he said, “with my being, my heart, my soul.  Say nothing in return.  I want nothing.”

            Pellaz did not speak, but rekindled the kiss.  It was like drowning, like dying, fading away until every memory has gone.  The ultimate betrayal.

            He stepped back, wiped his mouth.  “You must go now,” he said.

            Galdra stared at him steadily.  “Is that what you want?”

            Pellaz shook his head.  “No, but it's what must be.  I can't do this, Galdra.  I can't.  I can't give up hope.”

            Galdra nodded slowly.  “I understand.  I wish I didn't, but now I do.  I lived it in your breath.”

            “Go to your Sulh,” Pellaz said.  “He is a lucky har, who no doubt knows it and is sorely upset at your leaving him.  Be with him, Galdra.  I can give you nothing.”

            “I meant what I said.”

            “I know.  I'm not offended.  I won't stop speaking to you, but not this.  Never this.”

            Galdra said nothing more.  Pellaz faced the city and felt the Freyhellan's warmth and light move away, until all that was left was the cold night air.  He couldn't weep.  The stars danced in the sky, mingling into one, but he couldn't weep.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

The Varrs had done many terrible things during their time in power, and the breeding facilities were one of them.  As Cobweb led his hara on the final stage of their journey to Harling Gardens, he had no idea that Ponclast still harboured obsessions similar to those that had inspired the facilities.  All Cobweb could think of was the past: the faintest reek of despair clung like disintegrating rags to the trees and fences.  Hara had been kept constantly in pearl in these places, hara too young for the task, really.  And the harlings from those pearls had been given numbers, not names.

            Cobweb urged his horse to the front of the line, as they approached the long driveway to the old facility.  He had yet to put out a mind call to Lisia, concerned his old friend would be horrified at the sight of so many refugees.  Lisia still harboured deep-seated fears about poverty and starvation, and Cobweb knew they would be rekindled in force the minute Lisia set eyes on those who now needed his help.  This was despite the fact that Cobweb had dispatched as many hara as he could to the forest lodges and to some of the eastern coastal towns, with which Galhea had trading links.  His party was still a sizeable force.  They had brought animals with them, and as many supplies as could be hastily gathered from Galhea.

            The journey had taken longer than Cobweb had thought: nearly a month.  It was grindingly tedious, because progress was so slow.  In the ancient forests they'd passed through, the Varrs had once run like wolves.  Cobweb could feel their presence still.  But then, beyond the forest and darkness, the secret garden.  Just as on the day Cobweb had first seen them, the grounds were blanketed with flowers, beds planted along the driveway and spreading out up the hill, where beyond a line of trees was hidden the place Cobweb hoped would be their haven.

            Hara at work in the fields put their tools to rest as they watched the procession passing by them.  They gathered at the end of the driveway, spilling into the valley road.  Some ran to the main complex.  Soon, mind call or not, Lisia would know he had visitors.

            Cobweb raised his hand to indicate the line should halt – it would take some time for his signal to be relayed to the farthest har.  Snake was riding in a wagon further back and Cobweb directed a brief message to him. 
Wait here.

            A small party of Swift's soldiers had turned up at Galhea while everyhar was preparing to leave.  They had been led by Leef Sariel, an old friend of the family.  Leef had informed Cobweb that Swift had taken his hara to Imbrilim: The rumours were that the Tigron would soon be amassing an army there.  Swift had wanted to rejoin Seel and ride to Fulminir.  Cobweb imagined how that must feel to Swift: a replay of a past event.  With Ithiel gone, Leef had assumed command of the Galhean militia.  He had accompanied Cobweb on his journey.

            Now, Cobweb summoned him, as Leef rode close to him.  “Come with me,” he said.  “Everyhar else must put.”

            They urged their horses into a canter, throwing up pebbles from the dusty road.  The gates ahead stood open – they always did now.  Beside the gate stood the same sign that had always greeted the Varr soldiers, who had visited the facility to breed: 'WELCOME AND ATTENTION: No Weapons Beyond This Point'.  Lisia had chosen to retain the sign, as it was still his preference to keep Harling Gardens a place of peace, growth and learning.

            Cobweb slowed his mount to a trot and led the way up the driveway past the screening line of trees.  There spread before them was a familiar tableau, only now, transformed through the time and effort of a group of hara who had chosen to build dreams on memories of pain.  There was the grand main building, two stories of real brick, its arched entrances and windows like giant eyes and mouths.  In human times it had been a convent and then, with an extension, a parochial school.  Off to the sides, several new outbuildings had been constructed, including a barn, a larger stable, and a dozen cabins used by visitors, each of which had its own flower garden.  The entire grounds were covered in blooming shrubs and lush foliage.  It was truly a garden.

            Any diminishment Harling Gardens had once suffered in the face of war and abandonment had been completely eclipsed.  Lisia had imprinted himself over the past.  But always it was there; Cobweb felt it in his bones.  The mere fact this land had not been razed and sown with salt indicated that Lisia still had an attachment to his memories.  The school and infirmaries that now operated here, established once the original harling residents had been raised and send into the world, could have been built anywhere.  But Lisia had chosen to remain in this spot.

            Cobweb slowed his horse to a walk as he and Leef approached the main entrance.  Lisia was already standing on the steps, arms folded, his long brown hair tied back, but for the natural blond streak that fell to the side, which lifted slightly in the sweet, flower-scented breeze.  As Cobweb had feared, Lisia's face did not register an expression of welcome.  He looked suspicious and defensive.  Neither did he recognise Cobweb immediately.  “Who are you and what do you want?” he snapped.

            “Lis, it's me,” Cobweb said, moving his horse closer to the steps.

            For a moment, Lisia appeared startled.  “
Cobweb
?”

            “Yes.”

            “What happened to you?”  He would be registering Cobweb's changed appearance: the tightly braided hair, the clothes of close-fitting black leather.

            “Galhea has been attacked.  I was forced to evacuate the town.  I had to come here, bring many of our hara with me.  There was nowhere else.”  Cobweb dismounted from his horse; he handed the reins to Leef.  “Have you heard nothing?  You must know the ethers are disturbed.”

            “We haven't heard anything about an attack, but yes, we have noticed the state of the ethers.”  Lisia came down the steps and embraced Cobweb rather awkwardly.  “They say you have brought an army.”

            “Not that.  We are refugees.”

            “Why didn't you contact me?”

            Cobweb risked a smile.  “Because I wasn't sure you'd feel able to help us.  At Tyson's suggestion, I decided to surprise you.”

            “Shock is a better word,” Lisia said dryly.  “How many hara, Cobweb?”

            “Quite a lot.  We left the harlings and older humans behind in the forest lodges, and as many able hara and humans to protect them as the lodges could accommodate.  I have also sent many to the coastal towns, but couldn't risk everyhar going that way.  Harling Gardens is safer.”

            “How many, Cobweb?”

            “A couple of thousand.”

            Lisia put a hand over his mouth, then lowered it.  “We can't possibly accommodate so many.”

            “I'm aware of that.  We have tents and supplies of our own and, except for relying on a few of your facilities, we plan mainly to stay out in the fields, where the army parties used to stay.  We've brought some of our herds with us.”

            “Herds?”  Lisia glanced with concern beyond Cobweb's shoulder, as if he'd catch a glimpse of these multitudinous beasts trampling on his precious flower gardens.

            “We have lost many souls, Lis.  The attack was devastating.  I had no choice but to flee.  I am in command of the party.”

            “Where's Swift?”  Lisia snapped, his concern for Cobweb's son evident in his tone.

            “Safe.  He's with the majority of our forces, in Imbrilim.  He plans to ride to Fulminir with the Gelaming.  Communication has been difficult.  Seel is also in Imbrilim.  Ithiel is dead.”

            “Fulminir,” Lisia said, voice cold.  Apparently he hadn't heard the rest of what Cobweb had.  “Why there?”

            “Ponclast has escaped Gebaddon.”

            “What?  And he attacked Galhea?”

            “We presume so.  After all, he knows who was responsible for his incarceration.”

            “I see.  And now, to escape him – the very har on whose command Harling Gardens was established and who used to visit here – you bring a vast portion of your hara and human population here.”

            “Many have gone elsewhere, Lis.  I did what I could.  I had no choice.”

            Lisia was silent for a moment, clearly wrestling with inner debate.  He took a deep breath.  “We are old friends, Cobweb.  You know I love you, but I can't put my feelings for you and Parasiel before my own hara.  I'm sorry.  You can't stay here.  You can't bring that danger to our door.  My life is dedicated to protecting those under my care.  Refresh yourself this night, then move on.  That's the way it is.”

            Cobweb regarded this har, who he had known for many years.  They had once been so similar, yet now a gulf had opened up between them that was wider than time or distance.  “I am acting leader of Parasiel,” he said.  “Harling Gardens falls in our territory.  I'm sorry too, Lis, but I'm afraid I have to insist we stay.”

            Lisia's lips drew into a thin line and his eyes narrowed.  “I don't know you,” he growled.  “Do what you see fit, as Varrs have always done with us!”  With these words, he swivelled round, marched up the steps and closed the great wooden doors behind him with a resounding thud.