The Wraiths of Will and Pleasure (37 page)

All day, Lileem felt nauseous. Her face was hot, her ears were singing and her head felt as if it was stuffed full of cotton. It was inevitable that both Ulaume and Mima noticed she was out of sorts. ‘You’re flushed,’ Mima said. ‘Do you feel all right?’

Lileem wanted to escape them all. She was terrified that the dreaded time of feybraiha was upon her. What would happen? What must she do? As the hours passed, the voices in her head became louder, calling her name insistently. She must be going mad. She would become like Terez had been, a half creature lost in darkness.

Just before sundown, it became unbearable. One moment, Lileem was sitting down on deck to begin the evening meal with her companions, the next she was on her feet, screaming aloud. She jumped off the boat and landed in the icy cold water with a great splash.

Deaf to the cries of her companions behind her, she swam strongly towards the eastern bank and climbed from the water. She wanted and needed to run, to keep running. Clawing her way through thick, thorny bushes, she headed east. It was the only way to go, and the faster she went and the longer she ran, the more the pressure let up within her. This was the way the voices wanted her to go. They lay in this direction: waiting. She found she was both laughing and crying as she ran.

Breaking free of the bushes, she hurtled down an old road that was cracked and half hidden by weeds. Here, her limbs took flight. She had never run so fast and it had never felt so good.

She ran for half the night and only stopped running when she fell exhausted in her tracks. Flick found her before dawn. She was still panting.

He wanted to take her back to ‘Esmeraldarine’, but she could only screech and lash out at him with her fists when he tried to make her do that. She couldn’t go back. It was far too painful. ‘This way!’ she yelled, pointing to the east. ‘I’m going this way and you won’t stop me. I have to.’

Flick crouched before her, his hands hanging between his knees. ‘Why?’ he asked.

Lileem gripped her head, squeezed it. ‘It’s a call,’ she said, trying to think clearly. ‘So strong. I have to obey it. There is no choice.’

Flick stared at her and she stared back, breathing heavily. She couldn’t slow down her breath. After a long minute or so, Flick said, ‘All right.’

‘All right what?’ she cried. The singing in her ears was so loud now she had to shout to hear her own voice, never mind Flick’s.

‘We’ll go east,’ he said. ‘I’ll come with you, if you have to go.’

Lileem threw herself against him. ‘Thank you.’ She realised she had never wanted to go alone.

He held onto her tightly, for just a moment, then held her shoulders at arm’s length, gazing into her eyes steadily. ‘I’ll go back to Ezzie, tell the others, see what they want to do. OK? Will you wait for me here for a just a while?’

She nodded vigorously. ‘Yes.’

He stood up. ‘If you really have to go, leave signs. I’ll be as quick as I can.’

Lileem watched him lope away from her and when he had vanished from her sight, began to weep. He hadn’t questioned her desire. He accepted it, and he would be with her. Her breast ached as if something inside it was about to burst. She had never felt so happy, yet at the same time, so sad.

It was difficult not to give in to the desire to leap up and keep running, but Lileem managed to control herself. She knew she should feel hungry, because she hadn’t eaten anything since lunch the day before, but she had no hunger within her. She was simply itching to move and had to keep pacing around. While she did so, she prayed to Lunil, her gentle dehar. What is happening to me? Help me. But it was daytime and Lunil’s influence was weak. She shrank from calling upon Aruhani, because of his arunic associations and Miyacala did not feel appropriate. Her own particular invention, Agave, could give her strength perhaps. For some minutes, she spoke to him, and maybe it was her imagination at work, but her body did begin to feel less agitated. It was fortunate she’d not strayed as far from the river as she thought she’d done, because Flick returned to her just past noon.

‘Ulaume had an idea,’ he said. ‘It might take strength for you to go through with it. There is an eastern tributary to the Serpent a few miles north. You should come back to Ezzie and we’ll head that way. It’ll be quicker than travelling on foot.’

Lileem considered this. ‘It’s a good idea, but I don’t think I can.’

‘You could try.’

‘But it hurts so much. You don’t understand.’

‘We don’t know who or what is calling to you,’ Flick said. ‘It would be better if we could all stick together. Try speaking to these voices in your head. Tell them your intention is to go east, but that you need to go back west first for quicker transport.’

‘OK, I’ll try.’ She took a few tentative steps towards Flick and it was as if a giant fist closed about her mind. She uttered a cry, clasped her head, stepped back. ‘I can’t!’

‘Lileem, you are strong,’ Flick said. ‘Fight back!’

Lileem screwed up her eyes and cried, ‘Agave, be with me! Give me your strength, your fire.’

‘That’s it!’ Flick urged. ‘Take my hand. Come to me.’

Lileem reached out and his fingers curled around her own.

‘I will feed you strength,’ he said. He pulled her towards him.

It was like being hauled through a thicket of blades, perhaps the blades of Agave’s sacred plant itself. But then, a warm wave of energy coursed through Lileem’s body: Flick’s strength and love. For a moment, her head was completely clear. ‘Run!’ she cried.

As they ran towards the west, Lileem imagined the immensely tall figure of Agave on the path behind them, blocking the way of any pursuers. He held a lance and a sword, and his being protected her.

Chapter Twenty One

The tributary to the Cloudy Serpent, called Little Drake, pours down from the eastern mountains. At first, it is fierce and white, as it tumbles over precipices and between narrow rocky channels, but gradually, it curbs its temper and flows smoothly, if purposefully, through fields and forests towards the south west.

In the early days, when the Varrs first fell to the Gelaming, you could travel up the river and see the signs of old battles all around you: blackened ruins, some with smoke still issuing from the timber, months after the initial fires; burial mounds that blocked out the sun, with ragged standards drooping at their summits; a general reek of unease and pain. Any Varrs you might meet, who were not even allowed to refer to themselves as such any more, were generally suspicious, dispirited or stultified. Gelaming commanders supervised rebuilding, and scouting parties still roamed the hills, rooting out the last of the Varr leader, Ponclast’s loyal followers. The Gelaming regarded themselves as a force for good, and in many ways they were, but they were also inexorable and their compassion could often feel like oppression.

Flick and Ulaume could not help but feel skittish passing through this territory. They were not, nor ever had been, Varrs, but strangers could very easily be mistaken for Varrish warriors in disguise and neither Flick nor Ulaume relished the idea of having to submit to interrogation.

It wasn’t until they began their journey east that they realised how vast the Varrish empire had spread and that the Uigenna had really only been minor players in the war with the Gelaming. One thing was upon everyhar’s lips, however: the Uigenna Wraxilan’s days were numbered. The Gelaming had a price on his head and he would not escape it. This gave the travellers some small comfort, because none of them had ever lost the fear that the Uigenna might pursue them, even if none of them spoke of it. But perhaps the Gelaming might be worse than the Uigenna, especially so if Mima and Lileem should be discovered. The Gelaming advocated a kind of Wraeththu purity, which even in the least educated breast kindled feelings of discomfort and unease, echoing as it did similar obsessions by earlier human conquerors.

To Flick, it was like emerging from a dream. Orien had whisked him away from the scenes of conflict to hide him in Saltrock, and his life since leaving his first Wraeththu home had been one of isolation. He hadn’t heard much news, only rumours, and the stories that Terez had told them, but now they were travelling through the real world and it drew them into itself. Wraeththu fought for power, and stronger hara could affect the lives of those weaker than themselves.

Lileem appeared to be fairly comfortable, although Flick suspected she still kept a lot to herself. The voices in her head and the presences in her dreams did not leave her, but they were less strident as she continued to head east. As to where they came from and what might be waiting for her at the end of the journey, she did not know, but Flick was reassured by the fact that she did not appear to fear it. She had turned to the dehara for comfort, and Flick knew she was disappointed that Flick appeared to have lost interest in the gods he had dreamed up. Ulaume, however, had taken up where Flick had left off, and was quite happy to meditate with Lileem, so that they could gather visualised imagery about the dehara.

Once, Lileem confronted Flick and told him that Aruhani was displeased he had turned away from him.

‘No he isn’t,’ Flick snapped angrily. ‘Don’t make things up.’

‘Wasn’t that what we were always doing?’ Lileem countered. ‘Didn’t you say we couldn’t really make anything up, that everything we can think of exists in the universe somewhere already? What happened, Flick? The dehara were yours. Why don’t you like them any more?’

Flick could not tell her how he had come to believe that Aruhani was a terrible and perverted force. It was Aruhani who had made him enjoy being with Wraxilan, who had encouraged him to perform disgusting sado-masochistic acts with the Uigenna leader for several unforgettable nights. Flick could never forgive himself for that, and he thought that in conjuring dehara, he’d been playing with a force that was far too strong and unpredictable. He knew that if he spoke of it, Lileem would disagree and try to persuade him otherwise. It was unthinkable he’d ever tell her what he’d done, in any case. Not even Ulaume knew. Once, not long after they’d left Casa Ricardo for good, Flick had thought longingly of Itzama and his serene wisdom. If he could speak of his problems to anyone, it would be him. But so many years had passed, and his time with the strange shaman was like a dream. None of what happened then seemed to have any bearing on the reality of life. Flick’s excitement in discovering the dehara had been crushed. The gods were capricious. They could smite as well as bless. But only Flick thought this.

‘The voices that call to me,’ Lileem said. ‘The dehara know what they are. They give me strength and courage. I am not afraid.’

Many times, Flick wondered whether it was actually Pellaz calling out to her, drawing them all to him through her, but he could not decide if this was wishful thinking or paranoia. Part of him still could not believe that the Pellaz who sat upon a throne in Immanion was the same har who’d been his friend at Saltrock and yet, looking back, there had always been a faint autocratic air about Pell. Given the right conditions, his wilfulness and stubbornness could very easily have slipped into arrogance and pride. Sometimes, Flick’s heart ached for Cal, and he thought that the Gelaming perpetrated atrocities upon the world. He wanted no part of them, so therefore became troubled when he discovered they were travelling closer to them than might be safe.

In these lands, Mima and Lileem kept below deck whenever the boat passed other hara or settlements along the river bank. But they still needed to stop for supplies, and for some months the constant travelling had meant they’d had less time to devote to their crafts, which was how they generally earned their living. Also, the defeated Varrs weren’t that interested in charming little talismans of bark, feathers and leaves, or Lileem’s carefully worked clay statues of the dehara. The boat needed fuel, so quite often Ulaume and Flick had been forced to seek work along the way. Flick did all that he could to make himself appear unattractive and he noticed Ulaume did the same thing. They bound up their hair beneath turbans of dirty scarves and didn’t wash themselves for days. They went barefoot and their toenails were black. It was safer that way. They didn’t want to invite attention.

When they took aruna together, Flick felt sad, because these times of freedom, when they could be themselves again, were too brief. The years they’d spent at the white house seemed like a lost idyll: the future was uncertain.

The landscape was draped in Fall robes when the boat docked at a tiny sagging jetty by a village that was fringed on the river side with ancient yellow willows. It looked beautiful in the late afternoon, with red sunlight kindling jewels and flashes of bronze in the bright leaves. The little settlement was carpeted in crimson and gold and the hara there did not appear so dour as others the travellers had come across. There were no walls or palisades to protect the dwellings. They soon found out why.

Flick and Ulaume went ashore and made for the centre of the village, where there was bound to be an inn of some kind, which was always the best place to look for work. Sure enough, they found a hostelry next to a green that was strewn with leaves from the copper beeches that surrounded it. Tables were set outside the inn, and it was still warm enough to enjoy a mug of ale in the open air. It was too early in the day for many hara to be drinking, for this was the time when the land had to be prepared for the long winter ahead and there was much work to be done. Flick and Ulaume were grateful that they could settle themselves and take in the surroundings before applying themselves to the task of seeking a temporary employer.

The pot-har was a curious, talkative creature, which again indicated this area had not seen much conflict. He said it was good to meet new faces, and the first drinks were complimentary. Flick was wary of this, used as he was to Unneah caution and he could tell that Ulaume felt almost threatened, even more so when the pot-har sat down next to them.

‘You’re from the west, aren’t you,’ he said.

‘No,’ said Ulaume.

‘Yes,’ said Flick.

The pot-har laughed. ‘You don’t look like Uigenna…!’

‘We’re not,’ Flick said and Ulaume shook his head.

‘We are just travelling hara who like to keep our heads down in these troubled times,’ Ulaume said.

Again, the pot har laughed. ‘Troubled times? You’ve been travelling too far and too long, tiahaara. There is nothing to fear around here. This is Parsic land.’

‘Parsic?’ Flick frowned. ‘What’s that?’

‘Swift the Varr, who is the son of Terzian, a great Varrish warrior, toppled Ponclast with the help of the Gelaming. After that, the Varrs became the tribe of Parasiel. We are no longer Varrish but Parsic.’

‘I see,’ said Flick. ‘We have been out in the wilderness for a long time. This is all news to us.’

‘You can let down your defences now. Come, wipe those suspicious frowns from your faces. Rejoice, as we all do. The Golden Age has begun.’

There was a fanatical edge to these suggestions that Flick balked at. Ulaume caught his eye and grimaced.
We belong to nohar,
Flick thought,
and that’s the way it’s going to stay.
‘It’s good you feel that way,’ Flick said. ‘We’ve seen a lot of devastation on our journey east.’

‘It will soon be cleared away,’ said the pot-har. ‘Lord Swift will see to it.’ He stood up. ‘Well, I’d best be back to the kitchen, because this place will be heaving with hara within the hour. Enjoy your ale, tiahaara.’

‘Well!’ Flick said, after the pot-har had disappeared back into the inn. ‘This is all a bit surreal.’

‘Swift the Varr,’ Ulaume said, his eyes narrow with thought. ‘Didn’t Terez mention him in connection with Cal?’

Flick sighed deeply. ‘Yes. The name is familiar. I think Cal mentioned him to me too, but I can’t remember what he said.’

‘We are in his lands,’ Ulaume said. ‘Flick…’

‘I know,’ Flick said. ‘We could use this opportunity to glean information about Pell.’

‘You don’t sound happy or enthusiastic about it.’

‘We are here because of Lileem. We shouldn’t take risks of being delayed or worse.’

‘You don’t want to know, do you?’ Ulaume said. ‘Not really. You want Pell to stay dead.’

Flick merely shrugged.

‘Have you ever thought he might be responsible for what’s happening to Lee?’

‘Yes I have,’ Flick answered abruptly.

‘Then…’

‘You don’t understand, Lor,’ Flick interrupted. ‘It’s complicated for me. My feelings for it all are so mixed, I don’t know what they are.’

‘We don’t talk about him,’ Ulaume said. ‘We don’t talk about anything seriously, and perhaps we should.’ Unconsciously, he’d reached up to touch his head. His hair had grown past his shoulders, but he was too careful about it, kept it wrapped up when he didn’t need to. ‘If the Parasiel and the Gelaming rid the world of Uigenna, can they be all that bad?’

‘I thought the Kakkahaar scorned Gelaming,’ Flick said.

‘I am no longer Kakkahaar. We are unthrist, Flick, without a tribe.’

‘By Aru, you’re not pining for it, are you?’ Flick asked, louder than he intended. ‘I thought you liked it this way, just the four of us.’

‘I was simply stating a fact,’ Ulaume said. ‘To be honest, I don’t know what I want.’

The hara who came to drink at the inn all appeared sleek, well fed and fit and were more than happy to talk to strangers. Everyhar suggested that the best place to seek work was in Galhea, which was only a few miles north east. The biggest farms could be found there, which always needed extra labour to make ready for winter.

Flick could tell Ulaume took this as an omen, and wondered whether they’d be arguing about it later. There might be little to argue about though. Galhea was a big place and Swift a prominent figure. Flick and Ulaume were inconsequential, small hara in a vast world. There was no reason why they shouldn’t seek work there for a while and do some investigating at the same time. Any newcomer to the area would be interested in recent history. Flick and Ulaume’s questions wouldn’t be seen as suspicious and they had learned how to be unnoticeable.

On the way back to ‘Esmeraldarine’, Ulaume was silent, and Flick intuited he was formulating the right spell of words to invoke the response he wanted. For a while, Flick let him struggle, then said, ‘We could go tomorrow. We probably have enough fuel.’

‘Are you sure?’ Ulaume asked.

‘No, but you are.’

‘I am,’ Ulaume said. ‘Thanks. I was expecting a fight over it.’

‘I know. So was I.’

Ulaume laughed and wrapped an arm around Flick’s shoulder. ‘We know each other too well now.’

Domestic crisis awaited them at the boat. When they went below deck, they found Mima comforting a distraught Lileem in the main salon.

‘What’s happened?’ Flick demanded.

Mima indicated he and Ulaume should go above deck with her. Lileem had not even acknowledged their arrival. She appeared inconsolable.

Out in the crisp night air, Mima hugged herself. Her expression was pinched.