The Wraiths of Will and Pleasure (11 page)

‘I could have prevented it,’ Flick said.

‘You couldn’t. Don’t kid yourself. He used you.’

‘I’m going,’ Flick said. ‘You can’t say anything that will change my mind.’

‘Then he’s won completely,’ Seel said bitterly. ‘This is what he wants – Saltrock to fall apart. Let me guess. He told you that you should leave?’

‘This is my decision,’ Flick said.

‘You mentioned something about a promise,’ Seel recalled, his eyes narrow. ‘What did you mean?’

‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘Don’t let him use you still,’ Seel said. ‘Please, Flick, be careful of what you’re doing.’

Flick nodded. There was nothing else to say. He couldn’t thank Seel for all he’d been given. He couldn’t promise to come back one day.

Outside, the afternoon was just beginning, the sun high in the sky. Flick saddled his pony, fixed his supplies and a tent to it. Seel didn’t come out of the house.

Flick mounted the pony and urged it out of Saltrock. There was nohar to say goodbye to. He headed towards the northwest. The sun was leading him down the sky. He was heading towards the past.

Chapter Six

During the day, when the sun was at its most deadly, Ulaume would find somewhere for him and the harling to crouch: beneath an overhang of rock, or amongst the spiky fingers of a spindly bush. He used the piece of fabric the child had been wrapped in as a canopy for them both, and while they waited for the sun’s fierce eye to close, Ulaume would talk constantly to his companion. In the mornings and the evenings, they would travel, but in the cold tomb of the middle of the night, they would sleep, huddled together for warmth. The coyote had stayed with them, albeit at a distance, but she led them to water at sundown. Sometimes she led them to caves, where blind bats huddled in a creaking leathery mass, only to pour forth after dark like a curse. Ulaume found it easy to acquire food. It was as if what he was doing now was meant to be. He killed the small desert hares, and quick emerald serpents. He knew which roots to dig up and chew. And while they ate, he would observe the child of wonder sitting before him: straight-backed, legs poking out, gnawing on a bone.

From the very first day, the harling rode upon Ulaume’s shoulders, fists plunged deep into his hair. It was only when he’d felt hot liquid running down his back that Ulaume was faced with the task of keeping the harling clean. Whoever had exposed it in the desert had wrapped its loins in absorbent cloth. Now it was soiled. Ulaume lifted the child down and untied the cloth. ‘Don’t piss on me,’ he said, knowing with a sinking heart the harling could not yet understand. He hoped it would learn such things as swiftly as it had learned to crawl. The harling laughed and kicked at him. ‘You’re pretty, so you’ll get away with a lot, but not this,’ Ulaume said. He was surprised to discover the harling did not have fully developed sexual organs, but perhaps that was because of its age. He did not know how Wraeththu were supposed to develop, but it crossed his mind this might be why the harling had been exposed. If so, it seemed stupid. Were the Kakkahaar so frightened and ignorant they would shun this precious gift, just because it didn’t yet look like them? It didn’t make sense, yet the harling seemed perfect in all other ways. The more he thought about, the more Ulaume believed that Lianvis wouldn’t have rejected the harling unless absolutely necessary. Then the thought occurred to him that the child might be dangerous in some way, but if so, he couldn’t imagine how. It was a delightful creature, full of joy and curiosity.

Ulaume realised the only way to train this wise little animal was through example, so he made the harling watch him urinate and defecate, and explained how it was important to bury the result. He indicated they should do this duty together, at certain times of day, and very quickly the harling realised what was required. It was so gratifying, Ulaume realised it would not be a great trial to teach his new charge anything.

The harling nibbled constantly on the talisman around its neck, until after only a few days it disintegrated. Ulaume gathered up the bits, feeling they shouldn’t be lost. He felt strongly that the harling’s hostling had tied the talisman there. There was a resonance within it of grief and love. Inside, among twigs, feathers and leaves, he found a scrap of parchment, and upon this was written the word, ‘Lileem’. He did not know this word, but decided it must be the harling’s name. ‘You are Lileem,’ he told it. ‘And I am Ulaume.
Yoo Law Me.
Can you copy that?’ He touched the harling’s throat gently. ‘The noise comes from here.
Ulaume
. Say it.’

The harling grinned at him, but didn’t attempt to make a sound.

Ulaume had no idea of where to go. He was heading roughly northwest, driven by the conviction that eventually he’d arrive somewhere important. It was as if the landscape itself aided his journey. The desert wilderness was treacherous and harsh, and many hara had died in it who were experienced desert-dwellers, yet every day Ulaume found food without too much trouble, and the coyote sniffed out water. Every time he and Lileem needed shelter, he found it almost at once. And the harling developed with alarming speed. It was as if he had been designed to be on the run shortly after birth, and perhaps because Wraeththu were in some ways usurpers in this world, that was the idea. Ulaume thought of the child in terms of ‘he’ rather than ‘it’ now, because the young personality was blossoming. Lileem embraced life with a loving madness. He raced about, naked and free, mimicking the sounds of the desert creatures, of the wind whispering through the scrub. He had an impressive array of yowls, clicks and whistles, but so far had not tried to talk. He was a demonstrative affectionate creature, who would throw himself against Ulaume’s legs and grip them fiercely. Without ever having been shown how, he planted wet kisses all over Ulaume’s face before they went to sleep. He sang to himself in a sweet wordless way. He sang to Ulaume’s witchy hair and made it dance like snakes.

Often, Ulaume thought about the hostling who had abandoned this child. He did not even know the har’s name, and the idea of Rarn’s consort was shadowy in his head. They must have met countless times, but no face remained in Ulaume’s memory. Once, when Lileem’s wileless behaviour had been exceptionally enchanting, Ulaume lay awake in the night, his arms about the harling, and sent out a strong, clear call to say that Lileem lived and was well. He didn’t know what level Rarn’s consort was at magically, or whether he’d be able to pick up the message, but felt he had to try. He was sure the har wouldn’t have surrendered Lileem willingly. It was as if a mist of his love still lingered about the harling, like a wistful ghost.

Eventually, they reached the mountains that the Kakkahaar called Hubisag’s Crown. Here, in the foothills, Ulaume lit a sacred fire into which he cast a lock of his own hair. It writhed within the flames and made a sound, as it burned, like a high-pitched scream. Ulaume prayed to Hubisag and thanked the deity for helping them through the desert. As he prayed, Lileem danced around the fire, singing, and nearby, upon an overhanging ledge of rock, the coyote sang also to the stars.

His rite concluded, Ulaume crouched beside the fire and wondered where his instincts would lead them next. He imagined Pellaz sitting opposite him, on the other side of the fire, almost invisible through the dancing flames. ‘Do you have a task for me?’ Ulaume asked. But, as ever, there was no response, either in reality or imagination.

The following morning, Ulaume sniffed the air to decide which way to go. He really needed to find somewhere he could acquire clothes for Lileem. The harling was clearly a hardy creature, and rarely seemed affected by cold or heat, but beyond the desert there would be greater temperature variation in the seasons, and Ulaume knew it could get very cold, even though he had never been to such places before. His own clothes were hardly suitable for travelling, and he had a strong sense that now they had left the wilderness realm, they had fallen into reality where physical needs would become more pressing. The flight from his tribe had so far seemed like an agreeable dream, but here the air smelled sharper and more immediate, rocks were spikier beneath the feet and there was a danger of running into rogue hara of inhospitable tribes.

A mountain path led to the west and Ulaume chose to follow it. Lileem wanted to run ahead as he usually did, but Ulaume called him back. He felt wary now. Lileem was not pleased to be restrained, but Ulaume took hold of the harling’s hand firmly. ‘You have to learn about danger,’ he said. ‘It’s not always safe to run about. You’ve seen me kill hares and snakes? Well, you should know that some hara might want to do the same to us.’

‘Eat us!’ Lileem said, which were the first words he had spoken.

‘Yes,’ Ulaume said, ‘well done. You’ve found your voice, then.’

Lileem didn’t say anything else, but began to sing.

‘Hush,’ Ulaume said. ‘If we make noises, we could bring danger to us.’

Lileem sighed and his shoulders slumped.

Late in the afternoon, Ulaume smelled smoke. He bid Lileem to be quiet and to wait for him behind a rock. Uttering a low bird call, he beckoned the coyote to him. For once, she seemed totally in accord with his wishes. Ulaume crept ahead along the path and presently came to a burning cart, which was surrounded by charred corpses. If there had been horses or mules, the attackers had taken them. Ulaume’s first thought was that whoever had done this had made it impossible to steal clothes from the dead, which was most inconvenient. The charred twisted remains were barely smoking, which suggested the carnage had taken place some time before. He didn’t sense anyone else about. The coyote nosed at the carrion and Ulaume did not bother to stop her. He thought the corpses were human, therefore little more than animals. Still, it must mean that he was approaching areas of habitation. He examined the wreckage and some distance from it found a striped blanket draped over some scrub. This he took and rolled into a bundle. But that was the only loot to be salvaged.

He ran back to Lileem and found the harling still crouching wide-eyed behind the rock where he’d left him. ‘You’ve been very good to stay here so still and quiet,’ Ulaume said. ‘We’re going to have to be even more careful from now on.’ He held out his hand. ‘Come on.’

Lileem looked the most troubled Ulaume had ever seen him. ‘Smell,’ Lileem whispered, wrinkling up his nose.

‘I know. It’s horrible. Some humans are dead up there.’

‘Bad meat,’ said Lileem. ‘
Bad
.’

‘Yes,’ Ulaume agreed. He thought that Lileem was sensitive to vibrations in the air left by the slaughter. ‘Come on now. We’ll run past it.’

Lileem scrambled out of his hiding place and took hold of Ulaume’s hand at once.

As they passed the wreck, Lileem blew out his cheeks and shut his eyes, clearly holding his breath. The coyote was still occupied with gnawing bones, and Ulaume let her get on with it, knowing she’d find them once she’d sated her appetite. He began to run, the harling beside him, and the more he ran, the less he felt like stopping, ever, but eventually he sensed Lileem tiring and slowed down. A kind of panic had affected him. He knew in his blood that Wraeththu had been responsible for what they’d seen at the side of the road and they were not the kind of Wraeththu he wanted to run into. Ulaume had no fear for himself, particularly, as he was afraid of very little, and felt more than capable of dealing with any foe. All he had to do was be himself, even if they were faced by hara of the Uigenna tribe, who were reputedly the worst of all. But he was concerned for Lileem. It would not be good for the harling to fall into the wrong hands and no matter how adept Ulaume might be at protecting himself through the powers of seduction and witchery, he might not be able to prevent Lileem being taken from him, and then indoctrinated into twisted, ignorant ways. He could not bear to think of Lileem’s boundless joy for life being corrupted by hara like the Uigenna, who he considered to be little more than human, but more dangerous than human because they had Wraeththu powers. He did not believe any har would kill a Wraeththu child, as they were worth more than gold, but then he glanced down at Lileem. What if some ignorant har made the mistake the Kakkahaar had made? The more he thought about it, the more Lileem actually looked like a girl child, but surely that must be the way of things, and male characteristics would develop later on. He didn’t want to risk arguing the case though.

They came to the settlement an hour before sundown. The first thing they saw was a windmill, its sails turning slowly against the red sky. Creaking wood was the only sound. Ulaume smelled smoke again, and his instincts advised him that this place had also suffered an attack. There was no sign of life, but perhaps survivors were hiding amongst the ruins, ready to strike out in terror at whoever came near. Ulaume gestured for Lileem to crawl into a dry prickly bush beside the road. ‘Wait here, don’t move,’ he whispered. ‘I’ll scout ahead.’

Lileem obeyed, and hugged his knees among the spiky branches. He said nothing but then held out a hand in desperation, his face forlorn.

‘Don’t worry for me,’ Ulaume said. ‘Listen for my heart. It will remain with you.’

Lileem frowned earnestly. He pulled the branches around him.

Ulaume crept forward, towards the sinking sun, every muscle taut and quivering. He could hear insects scuttling among the grasses. His steps were light and silent like a coyote’s. His body bent low to the ground, but moved swiftly. Ruined buildings were silhouetted against the long sunset. They might have been empty for a thousand years, and yet Ulaume thought he heard the cries of recent ghosts. He sniffed the air constantly, analysing the different scents. The smoke was old, perhaps older than that of the wreckage they had seen earlier. There was a rank air of death and fear, a stink of attic dust and mould. Ulaume’s hair shifted restlessly. He felt he might have to defend himself at any moment, yet the scene ahead of him appeared devoid of life. He thought of Lileem crouched motionless amid the scrub, as still as a wild creature under threat. He could not risk his own life, because then the harling would be alone, with only the coyote for company. He must be as cautious as if Lileem were still at his side.

Flat fields surrounded the settlement on all sides, but the crops had been burned like the buildings. Scorched land, cursed land. There would be bones poking through the soil. No birds called: a sure sign of terrible history. Ulaume’s flesh squeezed tight against his bones as he prowled along the ramshackle main street, keeping close to the buildings, to the shadows. Sunset dyed the world red: even the shadows were crimson. He supposed this to have been a human settlement, because a smell of humanity remained: a psychic rather than physical scent. There was no one here, he could sense it strongly, yet still he felt unnerved and edgy. Whatever had happened here had been unspeakable. The land was soaked in its memory; so much so, Ulaume had to fight the urge to sink to the dirt and weep. He had no sympathy for humans, but something about this place affected him. There was a message here, almost as if it was written in the dirty windows, the dust on the road, the splay of naked tree branches. Could it have been a Wraeththu town after all? The only one he knew of near this area was Saltrock, and that was miles away. But things changed quickly in the outside world, things that not even Lianvis knew about. What Ulaume had to decide now was whether it was safe to bring Lileem here. There was a chance they could find supplies and clothing, because not all of the buildings were razed. It was strange there was no sign of conflict, other than the burned areas. There were no corpses, no blood. As far as Ulaume knew, Uigenna did not generally tidy up after their massacres. Perhaps something worse than them had happened to this place.