The Wraiths of Will and Pleasure (30 page)

Chapter Seventeen

Flick shook Ulaume awake, pointed wordlessly at the window, then hurried to Mima and Lileem’s room to wake them too.

‘Get up!’ he hissed at Mima, shaking her roughly.

She sat up quickly, instantly alert. ‘What is it?’

‘Company,’ Flick said. ‘And I don’t feel good about it. Go to the wine cellar. Take Lileem. Hide.’

‘But who…?’

‘Don’t ask questions. I don’t know. Just hurry.’

As he left, he heard Lileem’s sleepy voice murmuring querulously, and Mima’s soft response.

He met Ulaume in the corridor outside his room. ‘There are twenty-two hara below the hill,’ Ulaume said.

‘I warned the others,’ Flick said. ‘Told them to hide. There are twenty-two you can see, there may be more.’

‘They are probing us. I felt it.’

‘Who are they?’

‘I don’t know. They are more organised than a rogue troupe. Perhaps we’ve been wrong all along about what kind of hara initially ransacked this place, and perhaps the ones responsible have returned.’

‘Have they come back for Terez? Did he call them? Is he with them?’ Flick did not expect answers to these questions and Ulaume did not provide them.

‘This could be bad,’ Ulaume said. ‘We should think about escape.’

‘How? They obviously know we’re here and no doubt have us surrounded. It couldn’t be your tribe, could it?’

‘No,’ Ulaume said. ‘They’re not Kakkahaar.’ He narrowed his eyes, thinking. ‘We have no choice but to try and be friendly, compliant. You might not like what you’ll have to do, but it could mean your survival.’

‘Will they have picked up on Lileem and Mima?’

‘I hope not. They were scanning for harish life force. It does mean they have a powerful shaman with them. They must be from an established tribe.’

‘So what do we do?’

Ulaume took Flick’s arm. ‘Come on. Let me do the talking. Shield your thoughts. Act dumb.’

By the time they reached the kitchen, the intruders had entered the garden. They were moving through it purposefully and slowly, destroying plants underfoot. They had weapons, manmade guns from an earlier time. Flick could barely breathe. Their expressionless faces were painted with savage stripes and their hair was moulded into fierce spikes. These were warrior hara, the kind who’d prowled the perimeter of his childhood home and who had eventually breached its defences. They were not at all like the Wraeththu with whom he was familiar.

‘We are har,’ Ulaume said. ‘Remember that. We mustn’t show fear, only respect and dignity.’

‘You handle it,’ Flick said. ‘I’ll quite happily forget how to talk.’

Ulaume went to the kitchen door and opened it. At once, guns were raised and pointed right at him. Flick lurked in the shadows. He saw Ulaume limned against the light, raising his hands in a non-threatening gesture.

‘Greetings,’ Ulaume said and bowed a little.

One of the hara stepped forward. When he spoke, Flick could see his teeth had been filed into points. He carried facial scars and could not be termed beautiful. Clearly, he had opted for a fearsome appearance instead. ‘You are not the one,’ he said. ‘Where is he?’

Ulaume lowered his hands. ‘You are looking for somehar?’

‘He was known as Terez.’

‘He still is, but I’m afraid he’s no longer here. If he has called you, then he must have gone looking for you.’

Flick could see that this suggestion was accepted by the savage har, and it also seemed as if the threatening troupe were on the point of leaving, because the spokeshar turned to them, muttered abruptly, and they lowered their weapons. But then another har arrived on the scene, riding a beautiful black horse. His hair was like the halo of the sun and his grey gaze looked as if it could melt steel. He was clearly the troupe leader and his horse trampled the flowerbeds that Flick had nurtured with his own hands.

‘What is this?’ the troupe leader demanded.

‘The lost one is no longer here,’ said the fanged har.

‘You!’ The leader pointed at Ulaume. ‘Come out where I can see you.’

Ulaume slunk from the shadows of the house. Flick could not see his face, but could imagine its expression: sultry and sensuous. Ulaume had gone into survival mode.

‘A har was stolen from us,’ said the leader. ‘We thought him dead. Then we receive a call from him and we come back. Where is he?’

Ulaume put his hands together and bowed slowly. Pure grace. He straightened up and shook his hair, which in the still air moved as if in a breeze. ‘Terez was sick because of the incomplete inception. I re-incepted him and he decided to leave, to seek you out. He must have been calling to you since he regained his wits.’ A pause. ‘And I can see why.’

The troupe leader’s expression did not even flicker. ‘What are you doing here? Why are you in this human house? Who else is with you?’

‘There are two of us,’ Ulaume said. ‘We are staying here temporarily.’

‘You have no tribe. Why?’

‘We are shamans, taking leave of our kind in order to study.’

‘And who are your kind?’

Flick perceived Ulaume’s brief pause and hoped the others did not. He must be debating whether to say Kakkahaar or Saltrock.

‘Kakkahaar,’ Ulaume said.

‘Kakkahaar do not roam alone. They are scavengers who travel in packs.’

‘I am Kakkahaar,’ Ulaume said. ‘Why should I lie when you could so easily find out for yourself?’

The troupe leader curled his upper lip contemptuously, then gestured at the fanged har. ‘Taste it!’ he said.

What the fanged har did could not be described as sharing breath, because he simply grabbed hold of Ulaume and sucked the air from his lungs. Flick cringed, shrinking back against the table in the darkness of the kitchen. He imagined those monster teeth grinding against his own mouth. His heart was beating so fast, he thought he might lose consciousness. He realised he had never truly been afraid in his life before.

Outside, Ulaume was thrown to the ground, where he crouched gasping.

‘Kakkahaar,’ confirmed the fanged har, wiping his mouth.

‘Intriguing,’ said the troupe leader. ‘Was it cast out?’

‘No. He has secrets, but it was his choice to leave his tribe. He is concerned for the other one inside, who is not Kakkahaar. He couldn’t hide that.’

‘Bring it out,’ said the troupe leader. ‘I wish to view it.’

‘Aruhani, be my strength,’ Flick murmured. ‘Aruhani, creature of magic, be with me now.’

He knew he had to summon courage and perhaps there was the suggestion of a dark shadowy form hovering in the shadows of the kitchen. He must not let these savages into the house so they could drag him out. He must remember dignity.

Flick took a deep breath, clenched his fists at his sides and went to the doorway. At once, two hara took hold of him roughly and dragged him before the black horse, which was dancing nervily among the trampled flowers.

‘And where are you from, little white ghost?’ asked the troupe leader.

‘Saltrock,’ Flick said, chin high.

The troupe leader laughed. ‘This is an amusing alliance! Kakkahaar and Sarock. What is your reason for being here?’

‘I came to fulfil a promise,’ Flick said, ‘for a friend who is dead. I met Ulaume here. You don’t need to steal my breath to know that this is true. Sarocks do not lie.’

Again the troupe leader laughed, and Flick was surprised and relieved that his surly demeanour seemed to have found more favour than Ulaume’s attempts at seductiveness. This was important. ‘What promise was it, little one?’

‘A promise to Terez’s brother, who was incepted at Saltrock. I came back for Terez and I found him. Ulaume and I healed him and now he has left. There is nothing else to tell.’

‘I think there is probably a great deal more to tell,’ said the leader. ‘And I think that you will reveal it to me. I shall enjoy the experience.’

‘Who are you to infringe my freedom?’ Flick snapped.

‘I am Wraxilan,’ said the har on the horse. ‘I am the Lion of Oomar, lord of the Uigenna, and this is my territory now. All those within it are mine.’

The Uigenna took Flick and Ulaume to their camp, which they had established in the cable fields. They scorned human dwellings and clearly had no desire to set foot in the white house. They separated their captives and confined them in tepees with guards at the entrances. Flick sat in brown gloom, surrounded by the stink of untanned leather. He sat with his forehead pressed against his knees, his arms curled around his head. Think, think, and call upon the dehara. How much time would he have?

The one called Wraxilan will come to me,
he thought,
and I must take aruna with him. I must win my freedom through winning his trust. I can do this. I must do this. We are both har. His first instinct cannot be to slaughter other hara. He just craves power over them and I will let him think he has it over me. But not easily. Remember Ulaume. Remember the Uigenna seemed to respect you more.

But Wraxilan did not come to the tepee. Some hours later, another har brought Flick food and water. He did not appear to be hostile and Flick said, ‘What will he do to me?’

The har set down the food and shrugged. ‘What do you think? Comply, if you have any sense. You have no tribe. You could have one. Think yourself lucky. He likes you.’

‘What of my friend, Ulaume?’

‘He’s Kakkahaar. He’ll survive. They always do, through deceit and cunning. He might exhaust himself in the process, but that’s not your worry. Think about yourself and just do what the Lion wants. It will please him to have a Sarock in his troupe. You will be a novelty.’

From this har, whose name was Morail, Flick learned that the Uigenna group who had found them was Wraxilan’s select guard. The tribe as a whole had established themselves throughout the land, and further north the bulk of them remained to build their own town on ground that had never been settled by humankind. Wraxilan had left trusted commanders in charge, while his personal troupe engaged in the process of flushing out remaining pockets of humanity, looting for provisions and tools, and subjugating weaker Wraeththu tribes. It seemed they had no intention of attacking Saltrock, or even the Kakkahaar. Saltrock offered little to them, situated as it was in such isolated hostile country, while the Kakkahaar were secretly feared. Morail did not say this in so many words, but Flick could tell that was the truth of the matter. For this reason, he thought, Ulaume would receive rough treatment from them.

‘You think we are just barbarians,’ Morail said, apparently without resentment. ‘But we’re not. Wraxilan has made strategic alliances with the Varrs and the Unneah. All other tribes will be absorbed. We will create unity. You are lucky we found you, because now you have an easy way in. We are respected among Uigenna, so you’ve come right to the top.’

Flick had heard about the Varrs from Cal – and therefore knew them to be another belligerent tribe like the Uigenna – and he knew of the Unneah, because of Seel. The Unneah appeared to ally with the strongest tribes around them. Flick imagined that this suspect and certainly unstable coalition would be strongly opposed to the Gelaming. There would inevitably be conflict and suffering. History repeating itself.

Before Morail left him, Flick asked if he had heard of a har named Dorado. ‘He was the brother of Terez, who you came looking for.’

Morail shrugged. ‘We incept many hara. I do not know of him. He is not with this troupe, but if you intend to seek him out when we return north, remember that many hara change their names after inception.’

‘And the one who incepted Terez, is he still with you? Who is he?’

‘His name is Agroth. He was close to the Lion, but he was taken, some months back.’

‘Taken? Who by?’

‘The Gelaming have spies in this land. They were probably responsible. Agroth will die before he tells them anything, but because of him, the Lion took heed of the call when it came. It was why he went back for Terez.’

Once Morail had gone, Flick considered the irony of having to become Uigenna and what Seel would think about it. Cal would no doubt find it extremely amusing. He hoped that Mima had the sense to keep herself and Lileem in hiding. They might have to fend for themselves now, but would be safe in the white house until the Uigenna moved on. Damn Terez, and damn the moment when the stupid idea of trying to help him sprang to mind.

All day, Flick pondered how he would behave with Wraxilan and what he should say. Before sundown he must have played a hundred scenarios over in his head. It would happen tonight. It must do.

As darkness descended, Flick heard the hollow rhythm of drums start up outside, soft at first, like distant thunder, but becoming louder and more intense. He heard a strange chant begin to rise and fall, like the song of coyotes. The Uigenna were preparing for a ceremony.

The tepee entrance lifted and a Uigenna guard stood at the threshold. He gestured to Flick. ‘Come.’

He would be taken to Wraxilan, then. That made sense. Wraxilan, who believed himself to be a king, would not stoop to go to anyhar.

The har took hold of Flick’s arm, which was totally unnecessary, and led him roughly through the camp. In the centre, a large fire had been built and here the drummers were playing. A group of hara enacted a tribal dance around the flames, and some of them were chanting. Eyes shone in the darkness, like the eyes of cougars. Feet stamped and hair and feathers flew.