storm (82 page)

            “Azriel Parasiel,” Cal said, in a clear ringing tone.  “Don't be afraid.  We are here to help you.  Look at us.  Moon's here.  You know Moon, remember?”

            Moon put a hand over his mouth, swallowed thickly.  The air stank of excrement and rot.  Now that his eyes were adjusting to the dim light, he could see that Azriel had been left to squat in his own filth.  The Parasilian was barely more than a skeleton, covered in rags.  Cal went to his side, but Moon hung back.  He was extremely reluctant to approach the prisoner, because what he saw before him hardly resembled the Azriel he knew.  It was obscene.

            “Moon, here!” Cal commanded.  “Now.  Hurry up.”

            Moon obeyed, averting his eyes from the pitiful mask of Azriel's wasted face, in which it appeared very little intelligence remained.

            “We have to break the chains,” Cal said.  “I need your energy, Moon.  Link with me.  Give me your hands.  I'll direct the blast.”

            Azriel whimpered and struggled in his bonds, as Moon hunkered down beside Cal.  Cal's hands, when Moon took them in his hold, were dry and extremely hot.  He felt Cal's mind brush against his own, alien yet strangely familiar, perhaps because of Tyson.

           
You're familiar too,
Cal said in mind touch, and for a moment Moon experienced a white hot arrow of emotional pain from him, which Cal crushed at once.  He drew energy from Moon's being and melded it with his own, to form a spear of intention, which he directed as a pyrokinetic blast to the bonds around Azriel's wrists.  There was a flash of bright orange light, and the air filled with an acrid smell of metal and burning.  Azriel slumped to the ground.

            “Wait for me,” Cal said.  He picked Azriel up and, without further words, passed into the otherlanes.

            Moon was left alone, stunned.  He could hear liquid dripping onto stone somewhere, a thick slow sound.  He was surrounded by the fetid stench that seemed to crawl through his hair and slither down his throat.  He could not imagine how Azriel had survived this place for so long, but maybe he was mad now, lost forever.  Moon felt faint.  He was sure his own sanity was beginning to trickle out of him, simply by being there.

            Then, with a muffled pop, Cal stepped out of the air beside him.  “You ready?”

            “Yes, where did you take Az?”

            Cal smiled in a cold manner, his eyes were bleak.  “To the edge of the Gelaming camp.  I delivered him into the hands of a rather startled har.  Never mind that.  We have to move fast.”  He grabbed hold of Moon roughly, twisting them into the otherlanes, where nothing was real, where unseen presences snickered like demons and plucked at their clothes, but which still felt far better than Azriel's wretched cell.

           
Ponclast will feel this,
Cal said. 
Soon, he will have my room checked.  Then you have to leave.

            What about you?  What are you going to do?

           
Cal did not answer.  At that moment, he pushed them out of the otherlanes.  Moon took a deep breath involuntarily, and immediately wished he hadn't.  This time, they were not in a cell, but this did not make it a better place.  It was a tower room, with windows that had no glass.  Outside, all that could be seen was sky, the first stars appearing in the deepening blue.  The immensity of the sky, that glimpse of heaven, contrasted starkly with the contents of the room.  There was a mattress on the floor, on which lay a har, or the body of a har.  The smell in this place was worse than that of excrement.

            As Cal approached the bed, Moon heard a mewling sound.  He saw a very young harling crouching among the dirty coverings, and it wept with terror, or perhaps pain.  It was emaciated, its head too big for its body.

            Moon took a few steps toward the bed.  He hardly dared look at what else must lie there.  Cal pulled back the filthy sheet and Moon gagged and turned away.  “He's dead,” he said, “Sweet Ag, he's dead!”

            The sight he'd glimpsed would remain with him forever: Aleeme's withered body unrecognisable, covered in dried blood, discoloured.  A pearl lay between his splayed legs, its covering ruptured.  The harling within it was dead and rotting.  It looked like its hostling had died delivering it, his soume-lam and lower body were black.  Moon had to vomit, he couldn't prevent himself.  His stomach convulsed again and again.  He wouldn't have been surprised to discover he was bringing up dead flies or metal pins.  Nothing about this situation was ordinary.

            After some moments, Moon wiped his mouth and straightened up.  He felt light-headed, hardly there.  Cal was just standing before the bed, staring.  He appeared to be in shock, but surely Cal could never be shocked.  Then, he leaned down and touched Aleeme's body lightly in several places.  “Moon,” he said.  “Come here.”

            “No,” Moon said hoarsely, shaking his head.  “Let's just take the harling and get out of here.”

            Cal did not look at him.  “We can't,” he said.  “Aleeme is not yet dead.”

            “He should be...”  Moon backed to the door, hysteria rising within him.  He couldn't bear to think that the body on the bed was still alive.  It was obscene.  “Get me out, Cal.”

            The harling's pitiful cries were like needles in Moon's ears.  The child was grotesque.  Moon seriously feared he was about to go insane.  The otherlanes jump had disorientated him, now this.  “Get me out!  Get me out!”

            “Be quiet,” Cal said.  “I need you.  Come here.”  He turned round, softened his voice.  “You can do this.  You are Moon Jaguar.  You are Snake's son and Pell's sori.  You are har Aralis.  So am I.  Work with me now.”

            Swallowing with difficulty, Moon took cautious steps forward.  Cal put a hand on the head of the harling, which became quiet.  He gestured for Moon to sit on one side of Aleeme, while he composed himself cross-legged on Aleeme's other side.  The stench was overwhelming.  “Cal...”  Moon was conscious of tears running down his face.  This had to be the worst moment of his life.

            “Look at me,” Cal said softly.  “Keep your eyes on my face.”

            Cal held out his hands and Moon sat down.  Cal's eyes appeared enormous, as if they filled the whole world.  They were the deep violet of forest flowers.  Tentatively, Moon reached out, linked his hands with Cal's.  Cal closed his eyes and gripped Moon's fingers firmly. 
Submit to me,
he said in mind touch. 
I'll take what I need.  Trust me.

           
Moon closed his eyes.  Cal drew him into a radiant place, a world of light.  In that place, Cal's strength was like the beating of an angel's wings.  He drew energy from Moon, and it was almost like aruna, so intimate, invading the deepest parts of his being.  Moon could perceive Cal's very essence, everything that comprised his character, his history.  He was like a dehar, neither light nor dark, but both.  He embodied ultimate compassion, which he'd learned on his life's bitter journey.  His retaliation could be swift and devastating, but his core was love.  He had walked every dark abyss, but the experiences had refined him, like a blade that had passed through many fires.  Now he drew energy from the deepest part of his being and plaited it with Moon's.  Aleeme's injuries were so great, and he was so near death, that the usual method of energy channelling from the environment would not be strong or immediate enough.  It required personal essence, part of Moon and Cal's own life force.  The cost was great, but not to Moon.  Cal was gentle with him.  He directed their combined force into Aleeme, and Moon could perceive the faintest flicker of life within that ruined frame.  It was like the last spark of a dampened fire, but Cal brought the torch of life to it.  The tiny flicker became stronger.

            Cal pulled them out of the meditation and Moon was shocked at how grey and haggard Cal appeared.  He had used a great deal of his strength.  “I will take him out, wait here with the harling.”

            “Don't leave me here.  Please!”

            “You know I have to.  I'll be quick.”  Cal pulled Aleeme onto his lap and the air folded around him.

            Moon stared at the place where Cal had been.  He felt numb.  He glanced briefly at the bed, felt nausea rise within him once more.  Quickly, he picked up the harling, which appeared to be sleeping, and pressed against the wall.  He didn't want to look at what was left on the bed.  The harling was like a starving bird in his hands, no weight to it.

            Cal took longer to return than before.  “I can't get you out,” he said.  “The
teraphim
have put wards in place against me.  They are chasing me now.”

            “Where can we go?” Moon asked, scrambling to his feet.

            Cal rubbed his hands over his face.  He appeared to be on the verge of collapse.  “I hope I have the strength for this, but I have to take you and the harling back to Tyson.  The Gelaming are nearly at the walls, and strange creatures are emerging from the otherlanes.  Pray that Pellaz comes for you.  There's no way I can get out of Fulminir again.  I have to keep you safe, put Ponclast's forces off the scent.”  He held out his arms.  “Come here, Moon.  Put the harling between us.”

            Moon did so.  Cal was clearly very weak and this otherlane jump might well take the last of his strength.  Moon did what he could to help, but the process was unknown to him.  All he could offer was the intention of power.

            This time, the otherlanes felt crowded, as if throngs of invisible being were hurtling through them.  A huge demonic force loomed up before them and Moon cried out.  Then Cal thrust him away, threw him physically back to earthly reality.  Moon emerged at a point several feet in the air and fell to the ground with a bone-jarring thump, his arms curled around the harling protectively.  He landed virtually at Tyson's feet.  Cal did not come through after him.  The last thing Moon sensed was a terrible black presence around Cal that enfolded him into itself.  The portal sealed with a dull thud.  In the final moments, Moon sensed the wards Cal placed about it at lightning speed, the way he hid its presence, and those who lay beyond it, from hostile view.  He sacrificed himself for it.

            For some minutes, Moon could only sit rocking and weeping, the harling held against him.  Tyson said nothing, but enfolded both of them in his embrace.  He could perceive how terrible it had been for Moon, because their earlier union still made them close in mind and heart.  Then the skies opened above them.  It was not rain that came down, and thunder did not roar.  The
teraphim
poured through into the realm of earth, shrieking their rage, and even as Tyson and Moon watched in awe and disbelief, the
sedim
reared up to meet them.  A war of angels in the sky, etheric blood showering down.  It was like the end of the world.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

In the camp of the Gelaming, Ashmael's elite guard had created a protective circle around the ritual space that Pellaz and Galdra would use that night.  A circle of
sedim
stood beyond them, as a protective barrier.  What had been a clear evening was now occluded by thick unnatural clouds.  There was a strange smell to the air, sweet yet foul.  Many hara of high rank and caste were in attendance, as well as those who were close to Pellaz: Terez and Raven, Vaysh, Tharmifex, Ashmael, Tel-an-Kaa, and Lianvis of the Kakkahaar.  Although they were in the heart of the camp, all was strangely silent, and there was no sense of activity beyond the tall screens that surrounded the circle of flattened grass.  Pellaz felt disorientated, unable to comprehend the severity of the task ahead.  Hara came to him and wished him luck in grave tones.  Implicit in their words was the suspicion that they might mean goodbye.  Galdra stood nearby, dressed only in a brightly patterned blanket that Lianvis had given to him.  He couldn't keep still, as if he were limbering up for a physical fight.  Pellaz ached inside.  He felt as if his body were nothing more than a pathway of the otherlanes.  Would he ever feel normal again?  He had said nothing to Galdra about the information Moon had given him concerning Cal.  Fortunately, Galdra had been too disturbed by Moon's arrival to register much of the subsequent conversation that had taken place.  Pellaz was aware he wanted Moon to relay certain information back: he wanted Cal to feel jealous that he was working so intimately with somehar else.  But perhaps Cal didn't care.  The jumpiness and dizziness Pellaz felt were faintly familiar: it was the way he'd felt when Cal had come to him in Saltrock for their first aruna.  It was the excitement of feeling that soon he was going to see somehar he desired very much, the excitement made all the more intense because he was not sure if his feelings were returned.