The Ghosts of Blood and Innocence (11 page)

All these impressions washed over Darq from the simple contact of her gaze. He was aghast at the depth of her feelings; it was worse than what Zira felt for Phade, which in Darq’s opinion was a very bad way to be. He should do what he could to alleviate this pointless suffering. He had no desire to share her feeling, because it seemed utterly without value or purpose, but if it would make his friend happy to be able to touch him intimately, he would allow it. Perhaps it might be interesting.

‘Come, Ammie,’ he said.

They went into the deepwood, which at that time of year was growing so fast you could hear the rustle of it. They approached
the moon pool, where once Darq had learned he was part of something. Here, they sat on the grass, holding hands.

‘Before we do this,’ Darq said, ‘you should know the truth.’ He stood up and took off his clothes. He showed her the thing she had always been so curious about; the ouana-lim and soume-lam, the refined genitalia of his kind. He explained he was not yet fully adult, of course, but at least Amelza could now have some idea of what hara were like.

Amelza’s eyes were wide and dark, drinking him in. ‘Yes,’ she said. Simply that.

Darq put his clothes back on. He had with him a knife, which he’d stolen from the kitchen, after making sure its blade was as sharp as it could be. He’d used the whetstone on it. But even so, it isn’t easy to make a cut in flesh, unless you mean to wound or kill.

‘Are you ready?’ he asked.

Amelza appeared dazed. ‘Kiss me first,’ she said. ‘In case it doesn’t work.’

‘I don’t really know how to.’ He observed her expression. ‘Well, all right.’

He put his lips to hers. She was hot, feverish. He couldn’t give her the passion she wanted, even though he could tell she was afraid she was about to die. It just wasn’t in him yet; maybe it never would be for a human. Amelza would die content if she could do so with his taste in her mouth. He believed she wouldn’t die, but even so he kissed her until she broke away from him. Anything to make her happy again.

Amelza knelt beside the pool, with her hair hanging forward and her arms held out, wrists uppermost. She seemed barely in control of her senses. On the way to the glade, Darq had told her what he would do, but he wasn’t sure she’d heard him properly. She trembled as he pressed the blade against her skin and he had to press really hard, and make several attempts, before he cut her. Then he thought he’d cut too deep, because the blood came out, black as ink in the moonlight. He was trembling too as he applied the knife to his own forearm.
Is this the right thing to do?
He was sure it was. Sure…

He
slumped to his knees beside her and pressed their wounds together. It was the most intimate thing he had ever done, more so than the kiss. He could feel the pulse of their hearts, the linking of their essences. Amelza hung heavy and limp against him, her breathing labored. Presently, she began to twitch.

The blood had congealed by the time Darq pulled away from her, and it crackled like shattering resin as he broke their bond. He laid Amelza down in the dew damp grass. Her eyes were closed and she looked deadly pale. He knelt beside her, staring down, his fists plunged between his thighs. His arm was throbbing. He sat with her all night. It seemed she was sleeping, and hopefully changing.

Just before dawn, Amelza uttered a cry and sat bolt upright. It was as shocking to Darq as if she’d been a corpse, springing back to life.

‘Ammie?’

Amelza merely dropped open her jaw and emitted a continuous low scream. She beat at her face, and the wound on her arm came open, so that blood flew from it. It smelled too strong, like carrion.

Darq tried to grab hold of her arms to restrain her, prevent her from harming herself, but she was stronger than him. She threw him away from her, as if he was only a kitten, and leapt to her feet. Then she was running away, between the trees, all the time uttering a terrible cry.

Darq ran after her. She was easy to follow because she was making so much noise crashing through the shrubs and thickets. He called her name, all the while knowing it was useless to do so. She was transforming. He’d incepted her. Even now, he couldn’t believe he’d done it. She wasn’t dead, so it must have worked. As he ran, Darq became aware of other presences in the wood. At first, this did not bother him, but then he realised it was the spectral hunters. They had heard Amelza’s screams and had smelled her blood. It had drawn them. He couldn’t think about that now. He had to put them from his mind, for they were only spirits after all, and their only weapons were the inflictions of madness. They kept pace with him and he could hear the panting of their hounds. Sometimes, they might bay in the night, but now they were silent.

He found Amelza among some ruins. Once a house had stood in this place, in landscaped gardens, but the forest had taken all of it years before. The upper stories of the house had long gone, and only a few walls, about four feet high, remained. Amelza had squeezed herself into a corner where the first rays of the sun had not yet penetrated. The hunters were nearby, and usually they vanished at daybreak. Darq sensed them beginning to break up, melting into mist, but still their curiosity chained them to this spot. Perhaps they would rematerialise here at dusk and wonder where they were and why they were there. They avoided the old habitations of men.

Amelza was now a dreadful sight. She had become a crone as she’d barged through the forest. Darq suspected the process hadn’t gone quite as well as he’d thought it would. He went to her, cautiously, but she did not appear to see him. Her jaw hung slack, emitting black drool. Her skin was scabrous, and it was as if the flesh were melting from her bones.

‘Ammie,’ Darq breathed. She was dying. Darq pressed bunched fists against his eyes. He screamed:
Help me!
in his mind. He sent out a call to Phade, to anyhar, or anything else that could hear. Perhaps there was some sympathy in the cold breasts of the hunters, but the daylight was their enemy and they would soon be gone completely.

It was as if a thick fog filled the ethers. Darq’s own inner cry was muffled, thrown back at him. He had never felt panic before, and was frightened of it, because he couldn’t control it. He hadn’t known fear before either. It was terrible, like being possessed. He knew he should focus, think rationally, but it was virtually impossible.
Think: what would Phade do?

He would call to those who knew about this process. He would call to the Gelaming. They were reputed to be the most powerful of hara. Surely they would hear a desperate plea?

Darq summoned every shred of strength he possessed and squashed it into an arrow of intention. This had to work, because if it didn’t Amelza would die and he’d be her murderer.

I call upon you, Gelaming. Come to me! Come now! A life depends on it!

After some minutes’ concentrated effort, Darq released his breath and lowered his hands from his eyes. A mist had crept in at ground level, covering the forest floor, seeping into the ruins. Amelza’s breath wheezed in her chest. It seemed to be slowing down. She was mostly motionless, but occasionally a violent tremor would shake her body.

Had he been heard? He was sure he must have been. He had never invested such effort into a psychic call before. But nohar came, and Amelza’s body made strange bubbling and popping sounds. The end was near.

Darq put his face in his hands and wept. He was overcome by such powerful feelings, it was almost divine. He realised, for the first time, how fragile life was. ‘Forgive me,’ he said aloud. ‘Please forgive me.’

He heard the sound of horses’ hooves behind him, not galloping, but walking slowly. He thought it was Phade and jumped to his feet, wheeling round. But it was not Phade. For a while, he saw nothing, and it seemed the approaching animal was invisible, but then through the mist a huge white horse appeared. It was a beautiful creature, lifting its knees high. Its mane flowed down on both sides of its neck, hanging to its chest. It bore a tall, cloaked har.

The horse came to a halt before Darq and its rider stared down at him. All he saw was a penetrating, silvery grey gaze, a long straight nose, a well-shaped mouth and chin. Long drifts of dark red hair fell over his breast. He looked magnificent, even though his hood shadowed his face. Darq didn’t care who it was. ‘Help me,’ he said, gesturing at Amelza. ‘She’s dying. Help her. I gave her blood…’

The har dismounted from his horse and without speaking approached Amelza, brushing past Darq as he did so. Darq could pick up nothing psychically from this har; he was like a blank stone. The har squatted down to examine the girl and spent some moments doing so. Then, he rose to his feet and turned to Darq. He threw back the hood of his cloak and Darq physically winced. He had never seen such a powerful and beautiful har: he must be Gelaming.

‘You are a fool, Darquiel,’ said the har.

‘I know,’ Darq said. ‘I thought I could change her…’

‘No! What I meant was that you are a fool for shouting like an imbecile into the ethers.’

Darq got the impression this har was not that concerned about Amelza. ‘Can you help her?’

The har sniffed. ‘It might be possible. The question is: why should I?’

‘Because…’ Darq faltered. ‘Because you came when I called?’

‘I am not here to deal with botched inceptions. You should know that harish blood is poison to femalekind.’

‘Phade, my guardian, he said the Kamagrian…’

‘And is this female in any condition to travel the otherlanes to reach them? I think not.’

‘Then bring them here.’

The har laughed. ‘You are quite amusing. Why should I do that? Give me a good reason.’

‘She shouldn’t die because of me. Her family serves my tribe. It isn’t right. I did wrong. I will do whatever you ask if you’ll help.’

‘That is a rash promise,’ said the har, ‘but very well. I’ll risk taking her. It might be too late, so pray to the dehara it isn’t.’

‘Who are you?’ Darq asked.

‘Somehar who should not be here. Somehar who came because you are very stupid and have possibly put yourself in grave danger. I am Thiede.’

‘Are you Gelaming?’

‘Go home, Darquiel.’

Thiede picked up Amelza in one arm and somehow managed to mount his horse again, which Darq now noticed wore no bridle or saddle. Thiede slung the girl before him, over the animal’s withers. ‘I will return. Phade is looking for you.’

Thiede turned the horse with some unspoken command and the animal trotted off towards the trees. Then the air fractured and it vanished.

Darq remained staring at the spot for some minutes. He was dazed. If it wasn’t for the fact that Amelza no longer squatted behind him, he’d have believed he’d just dreamed the past five minutes. This har called Thiede had known him by name. He knew of Phade also. His horse had just vanished from this reality, and had no doubt appeared in a similarly bizarre manner. A shiver ran over Darq’s skin.
Was this the har who’d brought me here, as a pearl?
What powers he possessed!

I am Gelaming
, Darq thought.
I must be.

As he retraced his steps to Samway, which was difficult because this was a part of the forest Darq did not know well, conflicting feelings brawled inside him. He was full of remorse for what he’d done to Amelza, extremely excited and intrigued by Thiede, and angry with Phade. It was an old resentment: the certainty that Phade knew much more about Darq’s origins than he’d revealed
.
Darq was resigned to the fact that Phade would be furious with him too, if only for being out all night. He contemplated whether to reveal what had happened or not. Thiede had said he would return. If Thiede was one of his parents, or had known them, he would no doubt be angry with Phade for not keeping Darq under control. Whatever happened, Darq was sure life was just about to get very interesting indeed.

Two of Phade’s guards came upon Darq before he’d even left the forest. Darq knew them well: Keroen and Farn. At first, they thought he’d been attacked because his shirt was covered in dried blood, but he told them he’d cut himself.

Keroen hauled Darq up before him on his horse. ‘You’re in trouble,’ he said.

‘No doubt,’ Darq replied.

‘We’ve been searching half the night. Where did you hide yourself?’

Darq shrugged, and Farn laughed. ‘I wouldn’t be in your place when we get back.’ Neither of the guards mentioned anything about Amelza.

By
the time they reached Phade’s Tower, Darq felt quite ill. This was also an unusual circumstance. He wondered whether all those perplexing feelings he’d experienced had somehow affected him physically. The wound on his arm burned. He was light-headed, and his entire body felt like it was crawling with ants, within and without.

Phade
came into the yard, even before Darq had got down off the horse. He was unusually white of face, which meant he was bubbling with fury of the most severe kind. His lips had virtually disappeared into a thin line of disgusted disapproval.

Darq almost collapsed as he dismounted. Pulling himself straight, he braced himself to confront his guardian. Phade’s blow to his face took him totally by surprise. He didn’t feel it, but one moment Darq was standing, the next on his back, with lights shooting out of his eyes.

‘You little fuck!’ Phade yelled. He lunged forward.

For the second time that day Darq experienced fear. He had never seen a har so incandescent with rage.

Farn pulled Phade back and said, in a low worried voice, ‘Tiahaar…’

Phade shook the guard off. ‘Get up!’ he said to Darq. ‘Come to my office.’

Darq sat in the dust and wept. He wasn’t himself any more. He had become like Amelza or Zira, full of these ridiculous swirling emotions. Keroen squatted beside him and put an arm round Darq’s shoulders. Darq slumped against the har in relief. He wanted to be held. He didn’t want to face Phade.

‘He didn’t mean what he did,’ said Keroen. ‘He’s worried, that’s all. You scared him, disappearing like that.’

Darq was too exhausted to argue. He didn’t think that concern should be displayed by punching somehar in the face.