The Ghosts of Blood and Innocence (16 page)

‘I’m inclined to think we now know the purpose of your spirit window,’ Cal said.

Of the two Tigrons, Galdra had expected a tongue-lashing from Cal, but Cal was surprisingly cordial, given what had occurred.

‘Do you have any evidence for that?’ Galdra asked. It was not an arch question; he hoped Cal had intuited or sensed something.

Cal shook his head slowly. ‘Not hard evidence, just a feeling. The etheric residue in that room was faint – almost too faint – but it was unfamiliar.  I think that somehar or something has orchestrated this whole scenario.’

‘Who could orchestrate you bringing Loki to Freygard in the first place?’ Galdra said, and now his voice was bitter. ‘What enemy would know you that well?’

Cal smiled grimly. ‘Perhaps I am too predictable, after all.’

‘We shouldn’t jump to conclusions,’ Pellaz said. ‘As yet, we don’t know the purpose of what happened. I find it hard to believe that somehar – whether enemy or opportunist – would go to such lengths as creating that portal and so on, simply to be the first to take aruna with Loki.  What purpose would that serve?’

Cal gave Pellaz a cold glance. ‘We both know that the boundaries of aruna have yet to be fully explored. Who knows what might have been accomplished? For all we know, Loki might well now be a ticking time bomb.’

‘A what?’ Galdra said.

‘A device that’s made to explode after a certain time,’ Cal said dryly. ‘Read your history books, Galdra. Some things it’s best not to forget.’

‘Surely you’re not implying that Loki…’

‘I’m implying he could have been affected in some way without knowing it. He could have been given instructions he can’t remember. He could murder us all in our beds. If I were an enemy of ours I’d consider that quite an elegant way to dispose of us.’

‘Then perhaps he should stay in Freygard after all,’ Galdra said, ‘for your protection as much as his own.’

‘I’ll work with Loki,’ Cal said, ‘mind to mind. I’ve been trained well. If anything has been planted in his head, I’ll find it. As for where he should go, I’m thinking the safest place for him would be with Thiede.’

‘What do we have to brace ourselves for?’ Pellaz said bitterly. ‘What does all this presage? I must speak to my brother Snake as soon as possible.’

Galdra rubbed his hands over his face. ‘I’m sorry this has happened.’

‘It could have happened in Immanion too,’ Pellaz said. ‘We have no way of knowing.  It could be unconnected with that portal.’

‘I doubt that,’ Cal said. ‘But there’s nohar to blame but me. I take full responsibility. Don’t look so shocked, Galdra.’

‘We are all responsible,’ Galdra said. ‘In one way or another.’

Loki woke up in the evening and lay in his bed, listening to his own breath. When he turned his head to the side, he could hear the wet pulse of his heart in his ears. What had happened? He didn’t know. It seemed like a dream now. Somehar had come to him, somehar made of oil and smoke, who had touched him and woken him up, who had left him wounded and befuddled. Loki still did not know Seydir was dead, because Galdra had decided he shouldn’t yet be told. All Loki knew was that a stranger had taken Seydir’s place and that stranger was now part of him, inextricably woven into his bones and blood.

Dusk
came softly on the wings of owls. The tree branches wove their shadow dance across the ceiling of Loki’s bedroom. He felt strangely at peace, languorous and detached. The future, in terms of days following days, had no meaning.  Soon, Lantovar or Samarchis would bring him something easily digestible for his evening meal. He could hear them in the lower parts of the house, and if he concentrated very hard, he could hear their hearts beating too. They were talking in low voices, even though they thought there was nohar else around to hear. They spoke of death, of pelki, though both concepts were far removed from Loki’s feelings on the matter. Gradually, as he listened, so still upon his bed that if anyhar had come into the room they’d have thought him dead, Loki realised that somehar had indeed died last night. Disoriented, he had to question whether that was in fact himself. He ran his fingers over his chest and stomach, felt the faint ridges of the scars that had already nearly healed. He could not remember receiving those wounds. Surely they were not fatal?

‘You are very much alive, Loki.’

Galdra had put guards around the house. Two of them were on the front porch, while others hid in the garden at the back and on the road that led to the town centre. Nohar could get into this house without detection. Yet here he was again.

‘Skripi,’ Loki said. ‘They’re looking for you.’    

Skripi came out of the shadows, perhaps his portal to this place. ‘That’s of no consequence,’ he said. ‘Get out of bed and dress yourself.’

‘I can’t, there’s something wrong with me. I’m too tired to move.’

‘You’re fine,’ Skripi said. ‘Get up.’

Loki was about to protest again, but realised he did in fact feel very alert and full of energy. The languor had dropped from him, presumably at Skripi’s words. He must be working magic. Downstairs, Samarchis had put a ceramic bowl on the kitchen table, and Lantovar was about to ladle soup into it. In a few short moments, one of them would begin to climb the stairs. Loki knew that was dangerous for them. ‘What do you want with me?’ he asked Skripi.

‘We’re going on a journey,’ Skripi answered. ‘It’s one you want to take. We must go at once.’

The kitchen door opened and closed, and floorboards creaked as Samarchis walked across the hall.

‘If you care for that har, you will come with me now,’ Skripi said, and although the words were threatening, Loki knew that he was not in danger. Samarchis, however, was. Loki got out of bed and pulled on his clothes. He was finding it difficult to think properly, but his body moved swiftly and precisely.

Just as the door opened and Samarchis came into the room, Skripi pulled Loki backwards into a shadowed corner. The shadows wrapped around them both like a concealing cloak. Loki saw Samarchis stare at the bed for some seconds, before he yelled, ‘Lantovar!’ and fled the room.

Skripi’s arms tightened around Loki. ‘Are you ready?’ he whispered.

Loki did not answer. They were leaving whether he was ready or not. For a brief moment, he considered breaking free and following Samarchis in a hectic flight down the stairs, but before the idea could take shape properly, the air folded and fractured around him.

He was being taken into the otherlanes. Very few hara can travel the etheric highways without the use of a
sedu
. The only har Loki knew who could do it was Cal. Now he was plummeting through a void, gripped by a creature he could no longer see. He was confused and numb, but just before he was taken to another world, Loki sent out a pulse of his own essence: a symbol and a sign. He hoped that Cal would be able to find it.

Chapter Nine

In the realm of Thanatep, the sky is black, even though a solar disk burns high above the twisted landscape. There are no stars. The land itself is red and black; sepia in the shadows. The first words Loki heard in this place were, ‘You must protect yourself from the Thanax.’ The words meant nothing, and seemed to come from nowhere, because Loki’s senses were addled. The air he breathed had a bitter tang to it, and his eyes were running. He felt hands upon his arms, and a living presence behind him, while he blinked to clear his vision, struggling for breath. He wanted to say things like ‘What is this place?’ or ‘Take me home,’ but the act of speaking was too difficult. He was in an alien realm, powerless and a captive.

Skripi,
who held him, released his grip and turned Loki to face him. ‘You’ll get used to this place. Soon, the air will have no taste. But we must make haste. You’re too vulnerable, and the Thanax will sense your warmth.’

By this time, Loki was able to take in more details of his surroundings. He and Skripi were standing on the brow of a stark cliff, where black, straggling herbs snaked across the ground. They looked undernourished and poisonous.  Below was a wide flat plain that looked as if it had been created by some kind of massive impact, as it was surrounded on all sides by cliffs. Upon the plain was a forest of towers, some with bulbous cupolas at their peaks, others with stone crowns of spikes. Some had fallen completely, others were half standing. About a third remained intact.

As for Skripi himself, he was an attractive har, even if his aura felt rather strange and dark. His hair was not quite black, almost purple, as were his eyes. But despite these aesthetic qualities, he was still an abductor.

‘That is the city of Thannaril,’ Skripi said, ‘though nothing lives there now… except for us.’

Loki still could not speak. He wanted to weep but felt that if he did so, the tears would turn into some caustic substance and burn his skin.

‘Come,’ Skripi said, and took hold of one of Loki’s hands. If he was aware of Loki’s distress, he ignored it.

There was a narrow, treacherous path that led down to the plain. Several times, Loki stumbled as loose shale gave way beneath his feet. Skripi hauled him on relentlessly. He appeared to be in a hurry.

When they eventually reached the bottom, Skripi paused. ‘You
must be wondering why I didn’t bring us out of the otherlanes directly into Thannaril, but this has proved difficult. Ancient wards about the towers still contain a residue of power.’

Loki had been thinking no such thing. He could barely think at all.

‘But we’re nearly there. Hurry.’

Skripi dragged Loki onwards. The shadows of the towers fell over them, and Loki heard a threatening sibilant hiss. Skripi tensed, whilst also increasing their pace. ‘Don’t look at them,’ he advised.

Loki had not been aware there was anything to look at, and the simple injunction not to look made him glance to the side. The image would stay with him forever.  He saw three skeletal shapes, whose skins were as dark as the world around them, yet it seemed as if it were not
color
exactly. Their eyes were black holes, and their long tangled hair a dirty white. Hunger poured from their beings and they were edging out from the shadows.

‘Thanax,’ Skripi said. He broke into a run.

Guided by survival instinct, Loki ran just as fleetly. He thought he heard the words ‘Flesh fire!’ hissed behind him.

Skripi and Loki ran towards a nearby tower. There was a gaping entrance just above ground level, reached by a short flight of steps, but there was no door. Skripi leapt up the steps and plunged into the unsavory darkness beyond the threshold, dragging Loki with him. Loki could not see how an open doorway provided any measure of security, but then Skripi was hauling him up wide spiraling stairs on the inside wall of the tower. If there had been floors to the building, the lower ones were long gone, but around thirty feet up, a ceiling appeared from the darkness, in which there was an opening. The stairs led through it into a circular room, with a high-beamed ceiling.

Here, Skripi let go of Loki’s hands and braced his hands upon his knees, breathing deeply. He groaned and straightened up. ‘I took the drain. You didn’t feel it, did you?’

Loki stared at Skripi mutely. He had no idea what the har meant.

‘Well, you seem unscathed,’ Skripi said. He ran his hands through his hair. ‘Don’t worry. The Thanax won’t follow us into a tower. This is Mutandis, once the lair of a powerful creature, we believe. We visit it rarely, but it was the closest to hand.’

The room was empty, but for a few shadowy chests arranged around the walls. Loki was puzzled as to how he could see so well, seeing as this realm had little light. Now that he was more himself, he could take in more details: Skripi looked little older than he did, but it was clear the other har was more experienced, in many ways. He had a confidence and inner strength that Loki thought he lacked himself.

‘Why?’ Loki managed to ask. ‘Why have you brought me here?’

Skripi flashed him a crooked smile, and did not answer, but walked across the room to a strange metallic structure that sprouted from the wall. It looked like a flower of metal struts. ‘This is a water tap,’ Skripi said. ‘You must drink now, because the otherlanes can dehydrate you. The water here is drawn from deep beneath the ground. There’s little that is drinkable to be found on the surface around here.’

He turned one of the spiky metal petals, and a gush of fluid burst from the tap’s center. The whole room filled with a damp smell of earth.

Skripi picked up a battered metal cup from the floor and filled it. ‘You’ll get used to the taste,’ he said, and offered Loki the cup.

Loki drank, and although in some ways it felt as if he were eating soil, he also felt refreshed. He wiped his mouth. ‘You must tell me. Why have you brought me here?’

‘To be with us,’ Skripi said, ‘your kin.’

‘My
kin
?’

‘We are surakin, Loki.’

‘What’s that?’

‘I am the son of your brother, Abrimel, who the Tigron has imprisoned in Immanion. Abrimel is my father. You’re my hura, believe it or not. But I prefer the term surakin, don’t you? It makes us sound like equals.’

‘Whatever. It means nothing to me.’ Loki sat down on the floor. He’d had no idea he possessed this relative, if indeed Skripi was telling the truth. It was a shock, not least because if it was true, a very close blood relative had recently taken him through feybraiha. Was that forbidden? Loki pressed his hands against his eyes briefly. ‘What do you want with me? Am I a hostage to barter for your hostling?’

‘No,’ Skripi said. ‘You’re here to learn a part of our family’s history. Nohar’s ever told you about it.’ He hunkered down in front of Loki. ‘My true name is Geburael. Call me that from now on. You won’t have heard of it. You were conceived at the time when my hostling, Ponclast, was vanquished by the Tigrons and my brother Diablo fled with me to sanctuary. I was a tiny harling then, but even so, I felt your soul flower in the earthly realm. I’ve waited to make contact with you. There are many things you don’t know, not least that your father’s former consort was not slain by the Teraghasts, as hara believe. He was slain by those who wished your father to make contact with the Aralisian, Pellaz.’