The Wraiths of Will and Pleasure (15 page)

The villa was situated on the crown of the hill where all the prominent Gelaming families lived, and boasted a fine view of the city below. As they rode up the curling drive, Seel caught sight of a huge edifice, half built and surrounded by scaffolding, on another hill in the city centre, near the Nayati. Thiede caught him staring. ‘That will be Pell’s palace,’ he said. ‘Phaonica: a diamond that will shine so bright all the cities of the world will by lit by its radiance.’

Saltrock, in comparison to this, seemed a pathetic experiment. Thiede obviously had far more resources than Seel had had, but then he had elected to build his city right in the middle of what had been human land, rather than hiding away in the wilderness as Seel had done.

‘You are a builder,’ Thiede said, probably having been prying in Seel’s mind. ‘You belong here. You will be able to indulge your dreams to the full.’

Seel could say nothing, because there wasn’t anything to say. If Thiede had been covertly recruiting hara from Saltrock to bring them here, how could it be seen as wrong? Where would they rather be, given the choice? Seel had never felt more humbled in his life. He had never had the breadth of imagination to believe this was possible and had scorned those who had.

‘Don’t be hard on yourself,’ Thiede said. ‘There is much to be said for scepticism. Blind faith never does anyhar any good. I wanted you to see. Now you are here.’

‘But how have you achieved so much so quickly?’ Seel asked. ‘This city looks as if it has stood for a thousand years. How did you organise hara so well?’ He shook his head. ‘I’m stunned by it. It’s amazing.’

‘There have been some hara,’ Thiede said carefully, ‘who have criticised my decision to seek out the best of Wraeththukind. I have plucked enterprising, bright and visionary souls from the wastelands. I have followed the dim beacons of shining spirits to the farthest corners of the world. This is why. I am not interested in posturing, preening fools, or those who wallow in the basest aspects of our being. I am looking for those who are fit to inherit the world and who will be its wise custodians.’ He made a sweeping gesture with one arm. ‘This is but an intimation of all we can achieve. When I look upon it, I see a beginning, an experiment. Immanion may be the first, but it will not be the best.’

‘Is there dark in Immanion?’ Seel asked.

Thiede smiled. ‘Only at night.’

The villa itself was not too large or ostentatious, as Seel expected, but of simple and elegant design. Its tiled floors were cool beneath the feet and every room smelled strongly of lilies. A deferential house-har showed Seel and Colt to a guest room, where scented baths awaited them and a change of clothes.

‘We may be dead,’ Colt observed as he pulled off his boots. ‘He could have killed us and brought us to his heaven.’

Seel ran his fingers over a white marble statue of a naked har that stood in a corner of the room. ‘That is possible.’ He walked out onto a balcony and leaned against the rail, breathing deeply a scent of pine and roses. Bees hummed lazily in the heavy blooms that climbed the walls of the villa. In the garden below, a har with honey-coloured hair hanging to his knees gathered flowers in a basket. Water ran in landscaped streams throughout the gardens and birds were streaks of metallic light among the lush trees. In a place like this, the dead could come back to life.

Colt, wearing a belted robe, joined Seel on the balcony. ‘I should be tired, but I’m not. I feel as if I’ve just woken from a good night’s sleep.’

‘There is something about this place,’ Seel said inadequately, then paused. ‘What do I do? Do I come here for good? Is Pell really going to come back?’

Colt sighed through his nose. ‘Don’t know about that. I think maybe that was the bait Thiede used to get you here. He does want you for something though. Can’t you just accept it might be because you’re good at what you do and would be of immense use to him in creating his ideal society?’

‘Its design…’ Seel said, narrowing his eyes at the horizon. ‘It’s made to seduce you, to glamorise the senses. It’s like drinking the waters of forgetfulness. Is that good or not? I’m not sure. I think if a har stayed here too long he’d forget everything else.’

Colt leaned on the balcony rail beside him. ‘Thiede is more powerful than any of us thought.’

‘Will he find Cal, do you think?’

‘No,’ Colt replied. ‘Did you ever believe he would? I think you just wanted an excuse to come and look without appearing to give in too easily.’

Seel laughed and punched Colt in the arm. ‘That’s so wrong!’ He sobered. ‘I meant it. I won’t let him forget it either.’

They spent the rest of the day exploring the villa and its grounds, Seel taking time to chat with the household staff. Everyhar appeared contented and enthusiastic about the future. Everyhar knew who Seel was. They told him they hoped he would come to join them for good. Clearly, Thiede had primed them thoroughly.

In the evening, Thiede reappeared and announced he had invited guests for dinner, who were important for Seel to meet. ‘The governing body of Wraeththu, whose seat shall be here in Immanion, is to be termed the Hegemony,’ he said. ‘Most of them I have already chosen: charismatic hara from around the world who have done much to further the advancement of our race. You will meet some of them tonight. These are not savage barbarians or mindless hedonists. They have brains. There is a place for you too, Seel, high in the administration.’

Seel smiled thinly. He felt as if he were on a roller coaster, unable to control its speed or destination.

Thiede’s staff laid out a magnificent feast, mainly of cold food, in a spacious dining room that overlooked the gardens. Beyond its huge window doors, a wide balcony hung over a large pool covered in lilies. Seel and Colt were conducted into this room to meet Thiede’s four guests. Their names were Dree Uvayah, Tharmifex Calvel, Cedony Mithra and Ashmael Aldebaran. It was obvious to Seel that these were hara of high calibre, who had perhaps attempted projects similar to his own at Saltrock. They were first generation Wraeththu, hara who had witnessed the very inception of their race. Memories lay deep behind their eyes. They appeared young, yet were old. Seel was especially intrigued by Ashmael, for he felt this har’s attention on him very keenly throughout dinner. General Aldebaran was supreme commander of the Gelaming armies. Seel knew it was only a matter of time before Ashmael spoke to him about the subject that fairly blasted from his aura: Pellaz.

The time came as the party rose from the table to go out on to the terrace for drinks and to bask in the balmy Almagabran evening. Ashmael signalled to Seel to hold back, which Seel did.

‘May we talk?’ Ashmael asked.

‘Yes.’

Ashmael closed the window door and the sound of cheerful voices from outside was silenced. ‘We must be quick. Thiede will notice our absence, and this is a conversation he’d seek to quell. You are a friend of this har Thiede wants to bring to Immanion?’

Seel nodded. ‘I knew him. He is dead.’

Ashmael grimaced. ‘We have heard that,
and
the mumbo jumbo Thiede spouts to explain why this is not actually so. It mustn’t happen. It’s an abomination. If there is any truth in this matter, it is that Thiede seeks to create a freakish homunculus to govern for him. He speaks of hegemonies, of co-operation, but it’s clear to the most stupid har there are dark forces at work. If the fact of this Pellaz is true, it is unnatural and wrong.’

‘I don’t disagree with you,’ Seel said. ‘But neither can I wholly believe it.’

‘Thiede wouldn’t say it if it weren’t true,’ Ashmael said. ‘He never loses face, nor can bear to appear fallible. If he says he can do it, he can. We must accept that, however difficult it is. It’s up to you to stop it.’

Seel laughed uncertainly. ‘Me? How?’

‘Do you want to see a friend of yours, some reanimated corpse, come lurching back into your life? What do you suppose he will be like? Have you thought of that?’

‘I cannot stop it,’ Seel said. ‘I know nothing about these things. I’m a stranger here.’

‘Not for long,’ Ashmael said bitterly. ‘Build your nest well, tiahaar. You will live in it here for a long time. Think about what I said.’ He opened the door. ‘We had better rejoin the company.’

Seel did think about what Ashmael Aldebaran had said, but couldn’t see how he would have the power to halt Thiede’s plans. The more he saw of Immanion, the less he was inclined to think Thiede was the monster he’d once thought him to be. Seel had planned to remain in Almagabra for only a few days, but the days stretched into weeks, and neither he nor Colt felt a strong desire to return to Saltrock immediately. There was so much to explore and so many interesting hara to meet. It was hard to believe that students of science, engineering and medicine had survived the transition from human to Wraeththu, but some had, and Thiede had devoted himself to finding them. These were the jewels of harakind who would help to build a civilisation upon the earth that was superior to all that had gone before. Seel was shown the new hospital where hara were trained in healing of both traditional and original skills. Here, students learned how to focus and amplify the natural healing energy that hara could channel through their bodies. They experimented with the use of sound as a therapeutic medium. The building itself was more like a temple than a hospital. Nohar would ever fear having to go there.

Throughout the city, universities and training facilities encouraged Gelaming hara to learn new skills, to create and invent. Beyond Immanion’s walls, spreading farms grew an abundance of crops. Cattle, sheep and goats roamed free upon the hillsides, feasting upon sweet grass and flowers.

In the evenings, after long days exploring Immanion’s wonders, Seel and Colt would sit upon Thiede’s terrace drinking wine or else visit other hara they had met in the city. Seel knew this was only a holiday, and that if he ever agreed to move there permanently, he would no doubt be working eighteen hours a day, but for now he was happy to bask in Thiede’s dream. Pellaz had hardly been mentioned and as Thiede was rarely around to be questioned, Seel put the matter to the back of his mind. He could not imagine a day when he would stand looking over the city with Pell at his side.

Chapter Eight

The moment Flick could no longer see Saltrock behind him was the moment of his rebirth. He thought to himself:
I do not know this world.
I am new in it and it is new to me
. Despite this revelation, he also felt numb. No strident harpies of emotion clawed at his heart or haunted the shadows of his dreams. He did not feel regret or loss or grief. He could not even feel ennui, travelling the bleak landscape towards the west. It was difficult to recall familiar faces, and past events seemed like stories somehar else had told him, a long time ago.

What he would actually do should he find Pell’s family, Flick did not know. The quest seemed like an excuse. He was not driven to fulfil a promise, but merely to escape. Other hara, who had worked hard on training themselves, might be able to use their psychic talents to quest the path. Flick had neglected that side of himself. He was blind inside. All he had to follow was the map of Cal’s romantic recollections, which he had listened to so many times.

The cruel cliffs around him did not fill him with dread. They were silent, tranquil, enclosing him in their eternal dreams. Flick could believe easily there was no world beyond this landscape, and that, should he wish it, it could extend for infinity. It was a hinterland, but one that he embraced wholeheartedly. He knew that it had taken Pell and Cal only about a week to reach Saltrock from Pell’s old home. A week was not enough time to be alone. So Flick tarried often among the crags. He sat on ledges, gazing out at the horizon. He watched the slow then sudden progressions of dawns and sunsets. He ate sparingly of the provisions he’d brought with him. And he thought about how he knew so little, and was less a creature of magic, than a creature of clay. But perhaps the time would come for change.

The universe hears all focused thoughts. It listens hard. And when the student is ready, if they are lucky, the universe sends them a teacher.

Flick delayed reaching his destination by two days, but it loomed before him all too quickly. And he was clearly too late.

Pell’s old home was a dead place. Flick’s own prophecy to Cal had come true. As he reined in his horse at the edge of the settlement, he looked upon a scene he might have devised in his imagination. Perhaps the moment he’d spoken the idea to Cal, he had made it happen. For some moments, he considered he might not be at the right place, but then the landmarks that Pell had given him all stood before him in evidence. The three windmills, the white house upon the hill to the north of the town. And the fields. Spread out, as far as they eye could see, they were supposed to be full of the cable crop. Now, they were only burned earth. Flick’s pony, Ghost, flexed his neck, pulling against the bit, yawning. He was not disturbed by the stink of death, because any evidence of it had blown away. All that remained was a sense of desolation, as if the settlement had lain untenanted for many years.

There was no point investigating the empty staring buildings, because their forlorn silence told Flick all he needed to know. Everything had died, past present and future. A scythe had fallen across the world. Flick knew that no one was left alive. There was no one to whom he could tell his news. He was absolved. What had happened to his warm heart? If he felt anything now, it was simply relief.

Flick turned Ghost towards the south and urged him trot away from the settlement. They could not go back to Saltrock. But where else could they go? Flick’s provisions would not last forever and he was ill used to travelling alone. The thought of introducing himself to a new Wraeththu tribe was daunting. He would have to abide by their rules, their way of looking at the world. He was, he realised, a tribe of one.

By sundown of the third day, he had ridden aimlessly for many miles, and had reached the foothills of an ancient cordillera. He had to make a decision and it seemed increasingly that he had no alternative but to return, abashed, to Seel. But he had made such a grand exit, the thought of that was humiliating. It would prove to Seel that Flick could not live without the comforts Saltrock provided. It would prove that what Cal had said to him about living in Seel’s shadow was right. Cal had offered a challenge: live life for yourself. Now, in taking up the challenge, was Flick living in Cal’s shadow as much as he had in Seel’s?

Flick rode among dark-leaved shrubs that clustered in groups like malevolent hags. Shadows gathered among them; dark familiars rustling through their skirts. But there was a pool of water nearby, fed by a hurrying stream, and the pony went directly to it and drank deeply. Flick dismounted and unpacked what remained of his provisions. The cured meat he’d brought was beginning to go green, and the cheese had sweated itself into an unappetising sticky lump. The bread was dry and spotted with mould. Even though he was hungry, the sight of this food did not stimulate the appetite. Instead, he drank water from the pool, which was brackish. A cloud of mosquitoes hung grimly over the water. If he stayed here, by morning he would be bitten raw. This landscape was probably full of things he could eat, but apart from hunting small animals, Flick was at a loss. He knew that the fruit of the prickly pear could be eaten, but was it in fruit just now? Perhaps he should return to the ruined settlement, and try to find food there. It seemed unlikely he had enough to sustain him for a return journey to Saltrock. He’d have to exist on water alone.

Nibbling on a piece of the cheese, Flick investigated his immediate surroundings. Large rocks littered the landscape, and the stream ran over shingle between them. A group of old stones close by reminded him of an ancient monument, as if human hands had placed them there in the distant past. The stones were huge and smooth, with spindly trees growing from the cracks between them. Flick ran one hand over the stone. He sensed energy flowing from it, like a faint vibration coursing up from deep within the earth. There was power here.

For the first time since Orien’s death, Flick felt a jolt of interest reawaken within him. The evening was suddenly more alive around him, its scents and sounds more intense. His hand could feel the grain within the stone. It was as if a drugged torpor had fallen from his mind.

Leaving Ghost to graze, Flick ventured further into the shadow of the stones. They loomed over him, full of presence and sentience. Stars had begun to prick through the darkening sky above and the stones were solid black against them. The sandy ground underfoot was damp. Flick left deep footprints. The stones leaned closer together to form the entrance to a cave and Flick ventured within. Moonlight fell in a silver beam from a chimney above the centre of a high natural chamber. Around the edge of the cave, the ground was strewn with dried grasses, as if people went to sit there regularly. Evidence of a fire lay in a blackened ring of fist-sized stones, directly beneath the opening in the ceiling. When Flick went to investigate, it was clear that the last fire had been lit here a very long time ago. But he felt strongly that this was a sacred place. It was so tempting to lie down upon the prickly grasses that still smelled faintly of hay. The moonlight, through his half closed eyes, was a white goddess standing before him, who held in her hands the balm of sleep.

In Saltrock, Wraeththu met in the Nayati to acknowledge the divinity of the Aghama, their god. Seel did not like religion, and in fact thought it stunted personal growth, so he discouraged anyhar from trying to establish personal relationships with gods. He believed in magic, not prayer, in will and intention over supplication. But to Flick lying alone on the cusp of he knew not what, that seemed an arid and comfortless belief. He wanted a goddess in silver, with moon white skin and moonstone eyes, to stand over him and douse him in grains of sparkling dust that could erase all care. He wanted divine intervention, a higher power to rescue him from his life. Did he want to go back, further even than Saltrock, so that his life would rewind until he was a child again, and Wraeththu would not happen? How easy that life might have been, and yet how incomplete. He did not want to give up the part of himself that was akin to the goddesses of the world.

Come to me,
Flick thought.
Come down from the moon and scatter your silver incense over all that is female within me.
He closed his eyes.

Sleep did not come easily. Even though he felt tired to his bones, Flick could not let go of consciousness. Thoughts gushed through his head in an unending stream: images of Cal, the smell of blood, Seel’s face at his desk on the morning Flick had left Saltrock. He tried to dispel these images, to think of mundane things. But his mind would not rest. He sat up and put his head in hands. He remembered Seel as he’d first known him: the touch of his hands and eyes. His laughter, and the long carefree days. A changeling had taken Seel’s place, soured the friendship. Where had it all gone? How could such a thing happen? Flick felt tired to the innermost core of his being, and his head ached.

Perhaps if he stood up and walked around for a while, peace might come to him. But the cave was so large, and there was a danger of falling into the abyss. The ledge he sat upon was very narrow, and he was sure there were creatures flying round him in the darkness. He could sense their claws. There was no moon in this place. It had crashed into the lightless sea millennia before. He did not realise he was in a different place. He felt he had been there for years.

I cannot invoke the moon,
he thought, but
I must try to invoke the other light. What is its name?

He couldn’t remember.

A human woman walked up to him along the ledge, carrying a basket of keys, which were rusty. He could see the woman clearly, even though he was surrounded by darkness. ‘Where are the locks?’ she asked him. ‘I need to find them before the keys are dust.’

‘I don’t know,’ Flick replied. ‘Where is the light?’

‘It is coming,’ the woman said. ‘I heard its scream.’

‘Must I wait here?’

The woman shrugged. ‘It is as good as any other place.’

‘Can I have one of your keys?’

‘You already have one,’ she said. ‘It is very small.’

‘What does it open?’

‘The gates.’ She looked behind her. ‘I must go. There isn’t much time.’

She vanished into the darkness.

Flick held his breath. He could sense something approaching him. There was no sound, no change in the temperature of the air, but he could still feel it.

Aghama,
he said in his mind,
be with me. Help me.

But the words meant nothing. Aghama was not his god. He did not have one. He was alone in a void.

Flick felt his way to the edge of ledge and leaned out over it. He could see nothing but knew a bottomless abyss fell away from him below. He was too high to call out to whatever might fly and tumble in it, but he could see specks of golden light, far away, winking like distant stars. As he stared upon them, one of them grew steadily larger. Flick dared not blink, sure that if he did the star would vanish. His eyes burned. The light grew brighter and brighter, fizzing up towards him. It was a sphere, then a spiral, now a spinning column with golden wings. It was an angel, a furious spirit, a heart of fire. Pellaz.

‘Tell me now that you are dead,’ Flick said, still not daring to blink.

The vision hung before him, the face compassionate. Pellaz was made of gold light. He had no wings. He was simply a blade of radiance hanging in the void. He held one finger to his lips and the other hand was raised beside his head, two of the fingers curled over the palm. ‘Seek me within,’ he said, although his lips did not move.

‘Are you a god now?’ Flick asked. ‘Is that it? Is that the answer Orien was seeking?’

‘I will not be your god,’ Pellaz replied. ‘You are your own. Open your eyes and take what is given to you in full sight. Seek me. I will not remember this meeting, but you will do so. I am to be reborn, and for these scant moments before it happens, I know all. I can see it all, Flick, so clearly.’

‘Orien is dead,’ Flick said. ‘He died, in a way, for you.’

‘He sought death,’ Pellaz said, ‘but not for any reason you yet know. We are so much more than we know. So much. Nothing is as it seems.’

‘How? In what way? What is our purpose?’

‘You are the guide. Your teaching will take the student to the place of all knowledge.’

‘What? Who? Pellaz, explain it to me!’

There was a mighty crash, as of mountains tumbling into the abyss, and a great flash of light. Flick jerked backwards, his hands across his eyes. When he lowered them, he found himself in the small cave, with a single beam of moonlight falling down in the centre. He was lying on his back on a bed of straw. He couldn’t stop the tears. He wasn’t psychic. He didn’t have visions. And he couldn’t trust his dreams.

Flick woke again some hours later before the dawn, feeling very cold. The moon had slipped away and the cave was in darkness, but for a strange impression of light that seemed to emanate from the walls themselves. Flick’s body ached with stiffness and his mouth was as dry as if he’d drunk himself into a stupor the night before. He remember he had left Ghost to wander about outside. The pony might have disappeared into the wilderness, leaving him stranded in this place. Flick jumped to his feet. How far would he get without a horse? How long would he survive? A bewitchment had taken him, stolen his mind.

He’d almost reached mouth of the cave when his senses became alert to another presence. Freezing, he saw a motionless figure standing in the shadows, staring at him intensely.