storm (67 page)

            “Yes.  Tiahaar Vaysh said you were here.  I thought it polite to report in to you personally.  Also, I wanted to see you.  I am concerned for you.”

            Pellaz didn't say anything.  If he should ask the Freyhellan to leave him alone, it would only prompt a lengthy conversation he really wasn't capable of having.  To say or suggest anything else was, at that point, unthinkable.

            “I understand how you must be feeling,” Galdra said, coming closer.  “Everyhar is relying on you, expecting some kind of miracle.  What do you think you'll do once you reach Fulminir?”

            Pellaz smiled grimly.  “I have no idea.  Any suggestions?”

            “I think you should ask your gods, your dehara, for guidance.”

            “I do that every day, Galdra.  I do it every moment.  They are silent on the matter, which is to say my own heart is silent.”

            “You will have my strength as a resource,” Galdra said.  “Use it as you will.”

            “Thank you.”  Pellaz drew a breath.  “Ashmael will lead our troops, and those of all the other tribes who are with us, but I feel in my guts that might isn't the answer.  I'm not even sure what we'll find at Fulminir.”

            “Whatever happens,” Galdra said, “it is my intention to be with you.”  He put his hand over Pell's on Peridot's nose.  Pellaz slid his fingers away and Galdra sighed.

            “The potential of the future makes no difference to how I feel,” Pellaz said, but he realised they were just words, they didn't mean anything.  He wished Galdra would leave, but he was also glad the Freyhellan had found him.

            Perhaps sensing this, and realising he must seize the moment, Galdra put his hands upon Pell's shoulders and pushed him firmly but without roughness to the back of Peridot's stall.  The
sedu
remained motionless, as if asleep: a groan echoed deep in his body.

            Pellaz felt the wooden wall against his back.  He could smell creosote, mixed with the scent of hay.  Then somehow, as if he'd blacked out for a moment, he was sharing breath with Galdra.  He couldn't remember who initiated it, or when.  It was just happening.  His fears for the days ahead marched from his mind like a horde of demons.  Galdra flicked them away, one by one.  His strength was indeed great: it was comforting to know he'd be around when the final moment came.  He pulled away from Pellaz and murmured, “Whatever happens, you are capable of facing it and vanquishing it.  Know your own strength, Tigron.  Know that this moment of doubt is the lone vigil before the battle.  You are what you are.”

            “I will face it because I have to,” Pellaz said.  “And even if you and a thousand other hara are with me, I feel I must do it alone.”

            “Tonight, you do not have to be alone,” Galdra said.

            It would be so easy to give in, Pell thought, to be carried away on a tide of desire and oblivion.  If that should happen, would all be lost?  Always, the superstitious fear that if he took aruna with the Freyhellan it would banish Cal from his life for ever.  He was almost angry with himself for feeling that way, because hadn't Cal made his own feelings known by staying away?  It was entirely possible there was another Galdra somewhere, somehar saying to Cal that he did not have to be alone. 
Yet I am stronger than that,
Pellaz thought.

            It was the most difficult task for Pellaz to draw away from that warm, giving body, but somehow he managed it.  Somehow he was standing some feet away at the entrance to Peridot's stall, and Galdra was in shadow.  Outside, the rain was still coming down heavily, and everything was shining in the light of the lamps above the stable door.  Pellaz walked towards them.  His body felt extremely cold, taken away from the fire.

            “Pellaz, don't do this again.  Don't walk away.”

            Pellaz paused at the threshold.  He heard Galdra behind him, heard Peridot move restlessly.

            “You don't know what's going to happen,” Galdra said.  “Neither of us does.  We are on the brink of a big change for our kind.  It might change us irrevocably.  It could mean death.”

           
For you? 
Pellaz felt as if the threshold of the stables itself was the horizon for a change.

            “Will you deny yourself even at this hour?” Galdra said softly.

            Perhaps it was not a denial of the self, but a denial of the other.  How many hara must he turn from, hara who cared for him, before he faced the truth?  Galdra was right: there were no certainties, and in the face of that, no blame, no guilt.

            Pellaz waited for the space of three heartbeats.  Then he went back into the stables.  He walked past Galdra, making for the wooden ladder that led to the hay loft.  He climbed, unable to feel any sensation in his feet or fingers.  He walked into the hay, stooping a little, for the ceiling was low up here.  Kneeling among the bales, he took off his shirt.  Galdra's head appeared at the top of the ladder.  Pellaz didn't say anything.  He sat down and took off the rest of his clothes, clasped his arms around his raised knees.

            Galdra laughed softly, in an uncertain way.  “Pellaz, I wish you'd say something.”

            Pellaz stared at him.  Didn't Galdra understand he couldn't and mustn't speak?  His arms pimpled with cold.  His jaw ached because he had clenched it.  Yet his heart was beating strong and fast.

            Galdra took off his wolfskin jacket and sat down beside Pellaz.  He rubbed his hands over his face.  Pellaz took hold of one of Galdra's hands, pulled him down into the soft scratchy bed.  The smell of hay was so familiar in connection with aruna: it had surrounded Pellaz at Saltrock the first time he'd ever lain with another har.  It was part of Cal's smell.  Pellaz spoke to Aruhani in his mind,
dehar of life, aruna and death, let this be for him, for Galdra.  Let this be sacred and meant.  Let it be healing.

           
He pushed Galdra onto his back, but Galdra fought him.  “No,” he said.  “It is meant to be another way.  Trust me.  There is something I have to give.”

           
Like the first time,
Pellaz thought.  Perhaps Aruhani would not let it happen any other way.  Pellaz relaxed and spread himself out like a star.  He was beyond har: he was elemental.  His eyes were closed.  He slid a hand beneath Galdra's loose shirt, felt the skin, hot and dry.  He dreaded and craved the moment of union, then it was done, and they were moving together.  Nothing else mattered.  He was aware of every atom of Galdra inside him, so deep it hurt.  And all the while, he could hear the rain hammering on the stable roof, the chatter as it sluiced down the drain pipes, the thousand different songs it inspired throughout the present moment, with no languorous visions to sweep him away.  He wanted release, needed it quickly, needed this exquisite exchange to be over, or else it must last for eternity.  A long time ago, Orien Farnell had taught Pellaz well in the arts of aruna magic.  He knew how to control his body to bring a har to searing climax very quickly.  He concentrated on controlling the energy; he built it into a shining spire, and then released it over Imbrilim as a fountain of protective force.  In that way, what he did with Galdra was Grissecon, not aruna, and perhaps that justified it in his mind.

            Galdra lay on him heavily, panting, and Pellaz stared up at the ceiling.  He could see every strand of every tiny spider web up there.  He could hear Peridot breathing and the muted noises of other
sedim
and horses in the stalls below.

            After some minutes, Galdra rolled off him and lay beside him, one hand pressed against his eyes.  Pellaz leaned over him and pulled down his hand.  Distress oozed from the Freyhellan like black steam.  Pellaz kissed Galdra's face, many times.  The cheeks were wet beneath his lips.  He had not meant to cause hurt.

            “I wanted you to be with me,” Galdra said at last.  “It would have meant so much.  I wanted mutual feeling, not sacrifice.”

            “I am here,” Pellaz said, the first words he had spoken.  “Don't ask for what I cannot give.  Some things are sacred to me, and the only har with whom I am soume is Cal.  If it felt like sacrifice, it's because it was.”

            “I'm sorry,” Galdra said.

            “Don't be,” Pellaz said.  “It wasn't pelki, Galdra.  I complied.”

            “I could feel what you were giving me, but it was distanced.  It wasn't your heart or your soul, it was your mind.”

            “I can give you some of my heart, but not in that way.”

            “You will lend it to me, maybe, but it will never be mine.”  Galdra reached out and touched Pell's face.  “I will take what I can.  I might be throwing myself into the fire, to be sent home lifeless, tied to the mast of a flaming ship, but I will take it.”

            Pellaz sat up, reached for his clothes.  Galdra had not undressed.  Naked, Pellaz knew he felt far less vulnerable than the Freyhellan, who he now realised guarded intense need beneath his outer bravado.

            “You are leaving now,” Galdra said sadly.

            Pellaz stood up, fastened his trousers.  “I must.  I cannot spend the night with you, Galdra.  Too many tongues would be quick to spread the news, and believe me, little goes unnoticed in the household of the Tigron.  Vaysh knew you were looking for me.”

            “Why should you care what anyhar thinks?”

            Pellaz did not answer.  “Where are you staying?”

            “In the camp that has been allocated to my hara, beyond the town.”

            Pellaz grimaced.  “Too public.  There is an inn called The Silver Eye, on North Ward Street.  Take a room there.  Disguise yourself somewhat and call yourself Flick Sarestes.  I will meet you there tomorrow night at eight.”

            “So I will be your dirty secret.”

            “Not dirty, Galdra, and not exactly a secret.  I just prefer some things to be private between us.  I do not require a greedy audience.  I hope you understand.”

            “And the day after tomorrow, we leave here.  And you will travel with your staff.”

            “That's the way it must be, yes.”

            “And beyond that?”

            “I will be at The Silver Eye tomorrow at eight.  Be there or not, as you decide.”

            Galdra laughed bitterly.  “You are adept at this, Pellaz.  How did you learn to be so cold?”

            “It would take a lifetime to tell you,” Pellaz said.  “Climb out of your nest, Galdra.  Look around at what's happening.  I can't succumb to emotion now.  This is all I can give.  Take it or not.  Your choice.”  He finished dressing, ran his fingers through his hair, shedding strands of hay.

            “Did it mean nothing to you?” Galdra said.

            “It meant something,” Pellaz replied.  “I don't yet know what.  You wanted this so badly, Galdra.  Remember that.”

            “You are the most beautiful har that ever lived.”

            “There are many beautiful hara.  I am one of them, that's all, as are you.”