Read The Wraeththu Chronicles Online

Authors: Storm Constantine,Paul Cashman

Tags: #Romance, #Fantasy, #Science Fiction

The Wraeththu Chronicles (7 page)

BOOK: The Wraeththu Chronicles
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"Questions later," he said. "Now, I am going to tell you exactly what you are getting into."

 

Years ago, in the north, a child was born. A mutant. Its body was strangely malformed in some respects.

 

As it grew, this child exhibited many unusual traits that foxed both its parents and the doctors they consulted in thei r concern. Their son conversed earnestly with people they could not see; some of their neighbors' dogs feared him; other children shrank from him in horror. His mother complained she simply did not like the child; he was unlovable, withdrawn. Even as a baby he had snarled at her, refusing the breast. Once, some years later, as she had prepared his dinner, all the saucepans had risen off the stove and flown at her. Turning round, a silent scream frozen on her face, she had seen him standing in the doorway, watching.

 

On reaching puberty, the boy disappeared from home, and despite massive police investigation (accompanied by an insidious sense of relief experienced by the grieving parents), no clue to his fate was ever found ... for some time.

 

Months later, officials were baffled by a bizarre murder case in Carmine City. A young man, apparently having been sexually assaulted, had been found dead in a disused building. But it was far from the simple case it appeared; such killings commonplace in the city. The young man's insides had been eroded away as if by a powerful and caustic substance. Post mortem investigation revealed the presence of an unknown material in the body tissues, something that kept on burning even as it dried on the dissecting table. Under the microscope, it teemed with life like sperm, but unlike the sperm of any creature the scientists had seen before.

 

A mutant runaway had come alive in the city; alone, frightened and dangerous in his fear. He had learned just how different he was. His touch could mean death to those that offered him shelter, the sub-society of the city. He kept away from them, hiding in the terrible gaunt carcases of forgotten tenements; on the run, shivering in the dark.

 

Freaks roamed the steaming tips, the rubble. One came across him as he slept; lifted aside the foul sacks that covered him; gazed at his translucent glowing beauty. The veins on his neck showed blue through pearl, pumping with life. Some people are so far gone they would do anything to eat. One more day on the planet, one more day for the fleas, the rats, the sores.

 

Freak lips on a mutant throat, broken teeth to tear. The mutant opened his eyes, relaxed beneath the lapping suction. He did not want to die. He knew he could not die.

 

For three days the freak writhed, gibbered and screamed on the soiled floor. Passively the mutant watched him, faint interest painted across his bland face. On the third day, the filth peeled away and the mutant was given an angel. An angel like himself, brimming with mysteries that alone he had had no inclination to explore.

 

The rest of it is now the legends of Wraeththu. Wraeththu, born in hate and bitterness, flexing their young, animal-strong muscles in the cities of the north. Always learning, always increasing their craft and cunning. Increasing. It was inevitable that eventually it touched someone who had the curiosity, the intelligence to probe within the mystery. Wraeththu lost its ungoverned, adolescent wildness; it became an occult society, hungry for knowledge. But what they found within the Temple appalled them; its vastness scared them.

 

Some broke away from the search for truth and fell back into the old ways of fighting and living for the day. Those that remained faced the unavoidable truth: Mankind was on the wane, Wraeththu waxed to replace it. The first mutant faded into anonymity. Nobody was quite sure what had happened to him, but he had left strong leaders behind him. Now he had become a creature of legend, revered and feared as a god. Wraeththu did not believe he was dead, but that he'd elevated to a superior form of existence, monitoring or manipulating the development of his race. The Wraeththu grouped into tribes, each ascribing to varying beliefs, but all united in the Wraeththu spirit. They had the power to change the sons of men to be like themselves. As with the first, within three days of being infected with Wraeththu blood, the convert's body has completed the necessary changes. Many of them develop extra-sensory faculties. All are a supreme manifestation of the combined feminine and masculine spiritual constituents present in Mankind. Humanity has abused and abandoned its natural strengths: in Wraeththu it begins to bloom. Wraeththu are also known as hara, as Mankind are called men. Hara are ageless. Their allotted lifespan has not yet been assessed, but their bodies are immune to cellular destruction through time. As they are physically perfect, so must they strive toward spiritual perfection. If power is riches, then the treasure-chests of Wraeththu are depthless. Purity of spirit is the key; few ever attain it. But one day, when the ravages of man is just a memory, then the Few that have succeeded shall be the kings of the Earth.

 

I learned later on that all of this was Wraeththu perfection as Orien saw it. At the time, I believed all that he told me of Wraeththu's potential greatness because he seemed infinitely wiser than me. Only bitter experience taught me that he was misled, if not misleading himself. Nothing can be perfect in this world. I was curious about the different Wraeththu tribes, although Orien's knowledge on this subject was far from comprehensive. Owing to varying degrees of civil strife across the country, it had been possible for determined groups of Wraeththu to seize towns from humans or else take over towns that had been deserted. Some had maintained a serious belief in occultism and were interested in furthering their powers, Whilst others (and these Orien mentioned only briefly) were not so concerned about this aspect of themselves. What they were interested in, he neglected to mention.

 

The sun had traveled to its zenith; I was approaching mine. When Orien ceased speaking the hush still throbbed with his words. What I have told you is only the essence of it; there was much, much more. There was no question of my disbelieving him. To be there was to believe. My doubts were quenched.

 

"Tomorrow, Pellaz, a Wraeththu of Nahir-Nuri caste, the highest caste, shall come to Saltrock. He is known as the Hienama and it is his task to initiate new converts. A Hienama comes to Saltrock about twice a year. This time there will only be one conversion: yours. At the Harhune, he shall infect you with his blood. That is all. Admittedly, the whole thing will be dressed up in a lot of ritual, which gives everyone a good spectacle." His voice was dry and I smiled at his irony. "Now, do you have any questions?

 

"Which hundred do you want first?" I replied. We all laughed, me louder than the others.

 

"Just start at the beginning," Seel advised.

 

"Right. Why must I fast today?" This was punctuated by a timely growl from my stomach.

 

"So that your body will find it easier to cope with the Harhune. For medical reasons."

 

"And how will I change?" I could tell this was the question Orien liked least of all. He twisted his mouth and looked at the ceiling.

 

"I must admit, I prefer this question to be answered by experience. I don't want to alarm you.

 

I looked at him. steadily. "Please. I would prefer to know."

 

He sighed. "Yes. Very well. Most of the changes are internal. You must have realized that Wraeththu can reproduce amongst themselves (I hadn't), but not in the same way as humankind do. It involves the physical union of two hara, yes, but to to conceive life takes more than mere copulation. Essentially, our young are not formed within ourselves in the accepted sense. Only those of high caste may procreate. Sex is also important for reasons other than reproduction. We do not even call it that. When hara have a high regard for each other they can take aruna: that is pleasure, the exchange of essences. Grissecon is a communion of bodies for occult purposes, but I doubt whether that will concern you for quite some time. Inside you, new parts will begin to grow and externally, your organs of generation shall be improved, refined."

 

I felt faint. Images of castration brought a taste of blood to my mouth. Orien smiled grimly at my pallor. "Now you may wish you had not asked. But there is nothing to fear; it is not as bad as you imagine. Nothing will be taken away; nothing. One thing you must realize, Pellaz; what you will become is not Man, it is something different. Male, female as separate entities must lose its meaning for you. You must stop thinking of yourself as human."

 

I barely heard him. I was still listening to what had been said before, wanting to shout, "Show me! Show me!", but lacking the nerve. What was hidden from my view? Repulsion filled my throat, but I swallowed and closed my mind: from this point there was no returning.

 

A knock on the door signaled Mur's arrival bearing a flask of saffron-water for me to drink. I was shaking so much I could hardly manage it. There were no more questions inside me. Nothing seemed important now; my elation had dissipated. I needed to think. Sensing my inner turmoil, Orien and Seel exchanged a glance and stood up. Seel yawned, stretched and turned away from me, no doubt already thinking of his lunch. At that point I realized how much I envied him, simultaneously remembering his words: "You may be in my position one day." I could not imagine it.

 

"We shall leave you now," Orien announced. "Think about what you have learned." It seemed they could not wait to get away. Left alone, I gave myself up to grief. Harhune. Wraeththu. Much more than I had imagined, so much more. It was impossible my sobs could not be heard outside. I was held fast in the jaws of the trap, awaiting only the heavy, inevitable tread of the hunter. What was beyond the darkness? I fantasized Cal bursting in. He would tell me we were leaving, now, and our flight would be speed-trails of dust to the south. But Cal was one of them. A freak. One of them. Human once. Was he? Was he? I had touched him. Arms around each other like creatures that are the same. (Male, female; which one? Both?) Bile scalded the back of my tongue. Cal. A monster who had brought me to this. At Seel's house, he had known. He had known and he had not told me. It was a wicked, evil trick. I would avenge myself, avenge the humanity within me so soon to die. Death. I even contemplated it, looking wildly round the room for some tool of self-destruction. But they had foreseen that, hadn't they? Did they trust me not to destroy myself? I curled tight on the floor. Tight. Into the darkness. Whimpering

 

That was how they found me at night-fall. Mur and Garis. They lifted me up without warmth. "Drink this." I swallowed and tore myself away, wretching and coughing. Steel-strong hands clamped the back of my neck. "Drink it all, damn you." My throat worked. Liquid spilled over my chin. Almost immediately, the drug began to work. I was calm. Light-headed, but lucid. Scrambling, I made my way to the bed and sat there.

 

Garis, hands on hips, shook his head as he looked at me. "You can hate us all you want, little animal," he said.

 

"Shut up!" Mur snapped at him. "Get him in the other room."

 

I would not wait for them to force me. I stood up and stalked through by myself, submitted myself to their attentions without a sound. As they would not look at me, so I did not look at them. They did not mock me again.

 

Seel came in to see me later on. I had been half-dozing on the bed, lulled by the philter I had been given. There was no grief left inside me, only resignation. All I retained of myself was dignity. Whatever they took from me they could not destroy that. Pride that was the essence of me. "'We will come for you mid-morning," Seel said, pacing the room. He smelled of nicotine, wine and, faintly, of cooking.

 

"I wanted to kill myself this afternoon," I remarked in a flat voice.

 

Seel stopped pacing and looked at me. "You didn't though."

 

Angrily, I turned over so I could not see him.

 

"Pell, I know all this. Every little goddamn bit of it. It may only be a small comfort, but once I felt just as bad as you do now."

 

"Small comfort," I agreed.

 

"I was fourteen," he said. "Incepted in a filthy cellar, my arms cut with glass. You don't know how lucky you are!"

 

I said nothing. I did not care.

 

Seel decided to continue with his instructions. "The Harhune will take place in the Nayati. That's a kind of hall ..."

 

"Yes. Yes. Thanks for the vocabulary," I butted in coldly. What did I care what the damn place was called. Abattoir was enough.

 

"Look, you wanted this!" Seel erupted. I turned back to look at him. His face said: spoilt brat. He was tired of me.

 

"Did I?" We stared at each other and it was me that relented. "Yes. Yes I did."

 

Seel's shoulders slumped and he sighed through his nose. "Don't be bitter, Pell. You will regret nothing, I promise you."

 

I could not tell whether he wanted to console me or justify himself. But, of course, one kind word and my control began to slip. I began too shake uncontrollably. Seel was beside me in an instant. I could imagine him wondering how he had come to be shouting at me. It was not part of the ritual.

 

"Seel," I said, "if you mean that. . . about no regrets. . . you must tell me again and again and again. Make me believe it. But it has to be the truth."

 

He held me in his arms and told me and told me and told me. I had led a sheltered, barricaded life, and was young for my years in so many ways. I cannot stress enough how ignorant and confused I was. One minute the Wraeththu seemed to me like sassy street kids, just dressed up and then the next minute they were creatures I was afraid of, inhuman monsters, speaking words that sounded old. The truth was they were actually both of these things. They did not know themselves exactly what they were or would become. All 1 needed at the time, though, was what Seel gave me. Comforting arms and proof that Wraeththu were warm with real flesh and real blood. He must have stayed with me until I fell asleep. I did not wake till morning, and when I did I was alone.

BOOK: The Wraeththu Chronicles
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