The Wraeththu Chronicles (17 page)

I was sleeping when Lianvis came through the curtains. He shook me and smiled at my waking eyes. My mouth was dry, my body slippery with sweat. "Come now," was all he said. I looked. There was no-one on the couch beside me, though my arms felt cold as if only recently emptied. Lianvis watched me sit up, rub my face, reach for my clothes. His secret smile led me out to the desert.

Perhaps if I had known more of the way things really were in the world, I would not have been so desperately anxious to leave the camp of the Kakkahaar. All things in life are merely relative. The evils we had encountered in the desert were extremely bad compared with our time at Saltrock; later events would make our time with Lianvis seem like days of peace, a holiday. Never, there, had I been under direct threat. Things we had seen had been only an education, perhaps a warning. Then I was still afire with the ingenuous idealism that the haven of Saltrock had formed within me.

My ascension to Acantha had concluded when the first predawn gray had diluted the pristine darkness of the desert night. I did not feel as if my body was brimming with new-found power exactly, but what I did feel was an inner kernel of calm and confidence, something that could be called upon, should the need arise. I rode back to the camp with the echoes of ritual ringing in my head; exhausted, but still determined to leave the place that day. Lianvis insisted, I broke my fast with him. He told me he could not see why I was in such a hurry to leave.

"Whatever's waiting out there for you will still be there tomorrow," he said, flinging his arm to the east.

"I don't want to waste time," I told him, lying glibly. "You could rise to Pyralis here," he pointed out, avoiding my eyes and picking at the food on his plate.

"No!" I cried, too quickly. "No, I mean, I mean we have to go on.3' Lianvis shrugged. "Your choice, of course. Where do you plan to go?" I looked beyond him, out through the door of the tent. Where? "Oh, Cal will know. Somewhere."

"You would be wise to return to Saltrock, you know," Lianvis said, wiping his hands, slowly. "We are fairly isolated from any trouble here in the desert; it's too far and too inhospitable for us to be a threat to anyone, and Saltrock too, but other places . . ." He drew his breath in sharply and shook his head. "Pellaz, some of the towns north of here are painted with Wraeththu blood. There is hell beyond the boundaries of the wild country."

I could have told him that even before I was har I had not seen the towns and cities of men. My experience did not extend further than pictures in books the priest had shown me. Now I wanted to see. But what I said was, "I do not want to hide forever. There is a world out there and a great war perhaps. Wraeththu will win that war because of the simple fact that they have Fate on their side. Cal and I are going to be part of it . . .

"Why risk your life?!" Lianvis exclaimed. "It would be more sensible to wait a few years at Saltrock. Maybe, by then, things will be a little more . . . resolved."

I did not think he was right, which of course he was, and I was exaggerating slightly about our sense of heroism. Cal and I had no plans at all. He wanted Immanion and I wanted to live a little. We had not even discussed where we wanted to go next yet.

It was late afternoon by the time we were ready to leave. Lianvis equipped us richly with food and water. He had also donated a pack horse to carry it, ignoring our protests. There was a multitude of useful things: rope, salt, a knife sharpener, clothes and a tinder box. I thought Lianvis was just trying to get around us for some reason (and was probably right), but was grateful all the same. I had given him very little in return for the training he had given me, and now he showered us with gifts. A Kakkahaar guide would take us to the edge of the desert.

As we left, Lianvis came to bid us farewell. There was no sign of Ulaume, which surprised me Lianvis said, "You mustn't waste your talents, Pell; try to stay alive until you have matured enough to use them properly."

"I shall certainly try!" I replied. I gathered up Red's reins and he lifted his head, ready to leave. Cal was talking to the guide some feet away. "Oh, one thing, Lianvis," I said quietly, leaning down. "Last night; was it you who sent Ulaume to me?"

Lianvis laughed. "I did not send Ulaume to you," he answered, but his face looked sly. "You never saw Ulaume last night."

I was puzzled. "But his hair . . ."I said.

"No. It was not Ulaume. Farewell Pellaz." He turned quickly in the usual swirl of sandy cloth and strode back into his tent.

As soon as we rode away from the camp my spirits began to lift. The desert, past its cruellest mid-day heat, shone with barbaric splendor. Red and Splice, rested and well-fed, were anxious to please and light on their feet. Lianvis had given us a tent of sturdy black canvas. When we camped for the night, there were whole chickens to eat and pale, yellow wine to hasten our sleep. The Kakkahaar guide had told us that he would leave us at mid-day tomorrow. In less than a day the desert would be behind us, yet it would probably have taken us weeks if we had not had a guide.

As we lay in our tent that night, Cal quizzed me about the previous night's events. His voice sounded strained and he was lying on his back, not touching me.

"I'm sure all the ceremony bit is just decoration," I said. "It's the instruction that's important. That's what raises your level. Look at this!" I materialized a glowing crystal in the air before us. Cal slapped it with his hand and it vanished.

"What is important is common sense, that's all! You are Wraeththu. The power is there anyway. It is in man too, but they ignore it . . ."

"What's the matter with you?" I snapped, leaning over him. His eyes were cold, the darkest violet. He pulled his blanket tighter around his neck.

"Why won't you tell me?" he said. "I have never kept anything from you!"

"What do you mean?" I had an inkling however. He just looked at me and I dropped my eyes. "It is no secret," I said defensively, "I just forgot." His expression did not change. "I feel as if you expect me to apologize."

One side of his mouth twitched in a tentative grin. "Forgot? Oh Pell!"

"It's the truth! It all seemed like a dream anyway. I still don't know if it was real. How did you know?

He raised one eyebrow. "I know; that is all. I can see it around you; something dark." The coldness had left his voice and I lay down, resting my head on his chest through the blanket.

"It was all so strange. I don't even know who it was. I did think it was Ulaume, but I asked Lianvis and he said it wasn't."

Cal said nothing for a while. His hand crept under my hair and stroked the back of my neck. Outside, I heard the Kakkahaar cough in his sleep. "I know who it was," Cal said. Something in his voice scared me. "Don't tell me; don't," I murmured. "Just make me Light again."

They that have fallen . . .

To the east of the desert, a long, straight road winds straight across an unrelenting plain. There are a few farms there; some dealing in livestock, some in grain. We could see smoke rising thinly from their chimneys. The Kakkahaar had said that we should begin to avoid the habitations of men. There were only two of us and men might be tempted to shoot on sight. Cal said we should forget the road and head north. Although that might mean we would risk encountering danger, there would be more of our own kind that way. We still had plenty of supplies and we could travel fairly fast across the plains.

Now we changed direction again, abandoning our journey to the south and heading north once more, away from the arid country toward greener lands. For several days, we did not meet any hara or men, In the distance we could see the land begin to rise. There, the blue of the sky started to mist. Cal taught me how to use a gun. We did not want to waste what ammunition we had, but we shot at small animals, which supplemented our diet. Sometimes I would dream of our being attacked by men, (shadowy creatures with pale, dead faces), and not being able to defend ourselves. I was : not a good shot. Our horses grew sleeker and fatter on the lush grass of the plains. When the wind blew it billowed like a vast, green sea. The first town we came to seemed inhabited only by ghosts. Only litter moved on the empty streets; a makeshift garrison sagged unmanned. Cal left me with the horses under cover and went to investigate. I fretted impatiently while he was gone. Surely it should not take this long. I could see him killed a hundred different ways, mostly shot and shot and shot. He returned an hour later, sauntering back to me, biting an apple. "It's safe," he said, "I think."

I could tell it had not been that long ago that this had been a thriving town. Something had made the people leave. Just the fact that they appeared to have left their vehicles behind (we saw many parked along the streets), made me uneasy. Cal said that wasn't too ominous a sign. Fuel was becoming scarce, after all, I looked inside one of the cars and it appeared long unused, but I was still unsure. Had this place been abandoned or attacked? There were hardly any indications of destruction; what there was could have been caused by neglect. The buildings were for the most part undamaged and we could see nothing of the more grisly remains of conflict; dead Hara or men. Cal showed me the fruit tree where he had picked the apple. It was in the garden of a large, white house. It reminded me of the Richards house back home. "Let's explore," Cal suggested, but I was not very keen. As a child I had often dreamed of big, empty houses, and the dreams had never been pleasant. I think that deserted houses have personalities of their own, and once deserted, resent the intrusion of living things. Cal laughed when I told him about it, but he did not insist on going inside. We walked up the wide, main street, where once a community had bustled, ignorant of their fate. The horses hooves made an alarmingly loud clatter, which echoed all around us. I hoped frantically that the town was as empty as it appeared. If anyone did still lurk there, I felt sure it was unwise of us to advertise our presence. But no-one came. The town held its breath or slept or dreamed. The empty eyes of the shops, the cafes and houses watched us implacably until the hair stood up on the back of my neck. Once out of the center, we remounted our horses and cantered out through the suburbs

On the very edge of the town, down a sleepy road of middle-sized, family houses, just as our fears were beginning to subside, a single, sharp, arresting sound shattered the air around us. Gunfire. Cal reacted immediately, swinging Splice sharply off the road and crashing into a nearby garden. I kept so close to him our knees were touching. Chewing up an unkempt lawn, we collided to a halt behind a shield of fir-trees. Cal hauled me to the ground. At first we could hear nothing.

"We should have the weapons ready all the time!" Cal hissed, speaking more to himself than to me.

"What now?" I asked, rubbing the rein-burns between my fingers. "Men or hara?" Cal muttered to himself, ignoring my question. "They must have been watching us. Damn! I should have known. It was too quiet. Pell, find out. Help me put out a call."

Now was the time for me to put Lianvis's tuition to the test. A call; to men it is a science fiction of telepathy. To Wraeththu it is just another way of communicating, conveniently without sound. If it was something other than hara out there, the chances were they would not pick up on it. We clasped each other's hands and focused a channel of receptive thought out onto the street. I could feel Cal's nails digging into the backs of my hands; his arms began to shake with effort. We amplified the force, but nothing came back—at first. Then, I could hear it inside my head. Cautious, reticent.

"What tribe?"

Cal was controlling his thoughts with cool dexterity. He answered, "Saltrock," and did not waver. It is extremely difficult to lie, or even attempt half-truths, when communicating by thought, but Cal could do it easily. There was not even the faintest whiff of Uigenna or even Unneah. Thank God.

"We are Irraka," came the mind-voice once more, "You can come out now."

Cal smiled uneasily at me. "Let's go," he said. Our pack-horse, Tenka, had scrambled off up the garden. I could see him staring defiantly back at us with lowered head. Red and Splice, trusting creatures that they were, still stood behind us, breathing down our necks.

"I'll get him," I said, "You go and shake hands with the Irraka."

"Well, thank you Pellaz," Cal muttered scornfully. He led Red and Splice out onto the street. Tenka decided to be awkward and it was some minutes later that I emerged from the garden. Cal was talking to a tall figure clad in thick, black leather with cropped hair. He had a fierce, sharp face and unsettling gray eyes that were almost silver.

"I am Spinel," he announced, folding his arms so that the leather creaked,

"Pellaz," I said, resenting strongly the stripping directness of his gaze.

"I know. Your friend tells me you're heading north."

I looked at Cal whose face had assumed the blank look he reserves for strangers. "Yes." I confirmed. Spinel sniffed and shrugged.

"Brave Hara," he said with the faintest hint of a sneer. "Though you'd better learn to be more cautious. We could have finished you easily back there."

I almost said, "We thought the place was empty," but thankfully realized the folly of it before I opened my mouth.

Spinel spoke again, "You're from Saltrock, eh? Everyone's heard of Saltrock. Seems stupid to leave there . . ." He did not trust us, that was clear.