The Ghosts of Blood and Innocence (34 page)

BOOK: The Ghosts of Blood and Innocence
7.87Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

Darq was quite drunk by the time Darzu suggested they leave the inn. The Nemodilkii had unbound his hair; it hung in a rippling dark red cloud down his chest and back. Darq could smell its perfume. Outside the inn, it was very dark, as there were no lamps or torches to light the narrow streets. Darzu took one of Darq’s hands in his own. His palm was powdery with clay. Some time during the evening an unspoken agreement had been reached.

Darquiel expected to be taken to Darzu’s home, but perhaps that was not the custom with strangers in Nemodilkii. They went out of town and into the forest meadows, where sheep cropped the sweet grass; ghostly shapes in the darkness. Overhead, the sky blazed with stars, although there was no moon. At the top of one of the hills was a hollow, surrounded by trees. At the bottom of the hollow was a pool, and the earth around it had been churned to mud by sheep and wild deer. Ferns grew high around the pool, and Darzu took Darquiel into them.

There are spirits of the ferns
, he said.
They live in the smell of the green. They are powerful and sometimes cruel, but to them aruna is an offering. They will give you favor.

Nothing had so far been mentioned about any such intimacy. Clearly, Darzu had simply assumed Darquiel would be compliant, as indeed he was. How strange though that these things were taken for granted.

Darzu drew Darq into an embrace and leaned forward to share breath with him. Darq was slightly reticent; he knew how information could leak in the wisps of swirling breath. Behind the physical warmth of Darzu’s lips lay the story of his life; images of his harlinghood, snatches of conversation with colleagues, an argument with a dear friend. Darq was alarmed. How could he tell what might be pouring from himself?

Darzu perceived his hesitation.
You’re not long past feybraiha, I can tell. Are you afraid of me?

No, I’m not used to intimate sharing, that’s all. It discomforts me a little.

Forgive me. I have nothing to hide, and yet I hardly know you. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.

I’m not embarrassed, just surprised you would show me so much. I’m not used to strangers.

Darzu seemed a little crestfallen, for which Darq felt contrite. He took Darzu’s face in his hands and kissed him, at the same time letting flow a few harmless images of his life in Samway; the moon on the waters of the lake, looking up through a forest of tall pines, hearing the cry of birds. Nothing more. Darzu’s breath seeped right into him, in pinky yellow tendrils of light. They coiled like warm steam in his chest, down his limbs. They settled as little flames in the pit of his stomach.

Darzu gently touched Darq’s ouana-lim through his trousers, indicating his preference. Darq acknowledged this signal and let all of his sensual energy pour into his masculine aspect. Darzu uttered a soft gasp. He drew away and undressed himself, soume in starlight. Darq did likewise, thinking that what they were about to do was like a magical ritual. He felt like an ancient priapic god of the forest, who would honor a deity of the living breathing earth, digging into the soil, planting nourishment. Darzu knelt before him, and for several minutes pleasured Darq expertly with his mouth, something Thiede had never done. Sometimes it was almost painful, because the petal folds were hypersensitive, but it enlivened the organ in a way Darq hadn’t experienced before either. He was trembling, and eventually had to pull away, sink to his knees. He felt as if his ouana-lim was about to tear free of his body and scuttle off about its own business. The rest of him was merely a tiresome appendage. He was light-headed, in agony, yet ecstatic. He could barely move.

Darzu drew him down among the ferns, and guided Darq into him, which Darq was incapable of doing by himself. He let Darzu do most of the work, swooning upon his body, wholly unsure if he was in pleasure or pain. He wanted it to end, or else go on forever. It was impossible to tell. The tide was building up within him, bringing clarity. Gradually, the uncomfortable feelings were washed away. Darq uttered a cry; his movements became furious, and Darzu moaned beneath him. They were moving towards a shining pinnacle, when the universe would shower them in light. It was incredible. Sensations and images crashed through Darq’s mind. He couldn’t help what flowed from himself, but there was nothing to fear. Those images meant nothing to Darzu; he was beyond noticing them. Darq’s upper body reared up, just at the moment when they reached the eye of the storm, the moment of stillness before release. He felt triumphant, powerful, joyous…

Then darkness slammed into his body between his shoulder blades.

He shuddered, feeling blue black light flood throughout his flesh. Darzu screamed in pleasure, releasing fluids that were burning hot. Darq was paralyzed. He felt his own release, but another entity controlled it. A dark fist closed about his heart.

Mine!

Darq passed out for some moments. When he came to, Darzu was still moving weakly beneath him, his soume-lam contracting with the last dying waves of orgasm. Whatever had possessed Darq had either departed or gone into hiding. It did not seem as if Darzu had noticed anything amiss. He took Darq’s face in his damp hands, kissed him, squeezed him. He spoke words aloud Darq couldn’t understand, though Darq intuited their meaning. Darzu was more than pleased with their union. Darq touched the har’s face and rolled off him. He realised at that moment his heart was beating so fast it was painful. He felt as if he’d been punched in the back, a blow that had reached right through his chest. Darzu settled himself along Darq’s side, placed a hand on Darq’s breast. Darq wound an arm around Darzu’s shoulders.

You’re dazed
… Darzu laughed aloud.
Perhaps I drank too deep of you.

Darq squeezed Darzu’s shoulder.
Yes… I think perhaps you did. It was overwhelming, amazing.
Now was a time Darq wished he could speak aloud. It was too much effort to concentrate on mind touch, difficult to keep his confusion and fear from his thoughts.

I can teach you many things. I like to teach this way. Doesn’t your teacher do that for you?

No, he can’t. He has to abstain for some reason. It’s partly why we came here.

Then I’m glad to have helped you. I can see you know very little.

Darq was thinking on two levels: on one he was trying to communicate affably with Darzu, on another his mind was screaming in panic about what had happened. He knew enough about aruna to realise that the blue black light was not natural. It was not part of him. But what was it? And why had it come at that moment like that?

Darzu sighed languorously and took a lock of Darq’s hair in his hand.
I saw in the sunlight the threads of gold in your hair, like the most expensive fabric; black silk threaded with gold. Your eyes are the same, dark with motes of gold. You looked so serious, standing there in the doorway, and yet full of promise and magic. From the very first moment I saw you, this is where I wanted to be.

Darq didn’t know how to react to these disclosures. He supposed it was a more fancy way of intimating what he’d felt himself.
This one will do.
But it could be more than that for Darzu.
Perhaps
, Darq thought,
I can never feel that way
. And perhaps there was no outside entity flooding his body with dark light. It might be wholly part of himself, after all.

You seem wistful, beauty
… Darzu’s fingers traced the line of Darquiel’s jaw.
Muscles so tight. Will you not let me in? Can I not help?

I’m fine… really.
To shut Darzu up, to distract him, Darquiel guided Darzu’s lips to his own. In his breath, there was only summertime, the warmth of the day seeping from the hills, a soft cry from a night bird like a song of love.

They slept for some time, naked in the ferns. Darquiel’s dreams were empty of fear. He dreamed he was riding with Ookami and they were talking about making fire from a waterfall they would come to, which even in the dream seemed odd. Ookami was different, more like Darzu in manner. He kept leaning over from his horse to touch Darq’s hair and once said, ‘You must stop being so beautiful. It has blinded me in one eye.’ In the dream, Darq experienced an unusual volt of personal power. He felt very happy.

He awoke to Darzu nuzzling the back of his neck. They were lying side by side, curled into each other’ bodies. Darzu’s breath was heavy in Darq’s ear and he could feel the slightly pulsing hardness of Darzu’s ouana-lim against his spine. Was this wise? Even as Darq was mulling over the possibility in his head, his body responded. Darzu’s right hand slid over his hip, between his legs. Darq felt his breath come faster. He put his own hand on top of Darzu’s, uttered a sigh. Darzu gently bit his ear and slowly withdrew his hand. Darq began to turn over, but Darzu stopped him.
No…Lie like this. It is another way. Open to me, Darq.
He pushed into Darq very slowly; it was the most blissful feeling. Darq put his own hand between his legs again, stroked the slippery hardness sliding into him and out. This was very different to how it had been with Thiede. Not that it had been bad, just different, somehow less intimate. Darq realised then that Thiede had difficulty letting go. Aruna with him was more clinical, less elemental.

It’s very good
… Darq told Darzu.
Make it last.

I will.

Darzu stopped moving.
Listen to the night. Be still. Feel it all around us.

Darq did so. The darkness was full of sounds; rustling, animal squeaks, the mysterious call of an owl. He could hear the sheep, their comforting calls to one another. This night was magical.

Darzu expelled a strange coughing sound and for a moment his body shuddered. Darq thought there was something wrong with the har, but then he began moving again, powerfully now, faster. Darq couldn’t keep quiet. He felt as if stars were exploding inside him, one after the other.

Slow, Darzu… I can’t…

Darzu ignored this request. Instead, he reached forward with one hand and touched the bunched chrysanthemum of Darq’s quiescent ouana-lim. He pushed his fingers into it, which was uncomfortable.

‘No,’ Darq said aloud. He struggled a little. ‘Don’t, that hurts.’ It was as if Darzu were reaching right inside him, trying to stimulate his masculine aspect, but surely that was impossible. ‘Darzu!’

Darq attempted to pull away and a voice said in his ear, ‘Don’t look round.’

Darq froze. Could Darzu speak his language after all? If so, why had he kept quiet before? This thought was swiftly followed by:
It’s not Darzu
.

‘Don’t you know me, Darquiel? Don’t be afraid. I can only come to you this way.’

‘Who are you?’

‘We have spoken, haven’t we? You know me.’

Darquiel realised that, in whatever bizarre way, the har moving inside him at that moment was the owner of the voice that had spoken in his head. ‘How?’ he said. ‘How are you doing this?’

‘It’s very easy, especially with a simple soul like your new friend. You felt me earlier. I know you did. Don’t be afraid. I wish you no harm.’  

‘What
do
you wish me?’ Darq asked. The har’s hand was still caressing him in a disturbingly invasive manner.

‘Let go of yourself. I want to give you something. Trust me.’

‘Trust you?’ Darq almost laughed. ‘I don’t know who or what you are, and this situation is grotesque. Get off me!’

‘I can’t do that and neither do you want me to. Let me show you something. Relax. Give in. You won’t regret it. We are kin, in a way.’

‘Kin?’

‘I know you want your kin, Darquiel. And soon I will speak to you of this matter. For now, enjoy what I can give you. It will help if you push a little.’

‘What are you doing to me?’

‘Showing you the ultimate androgyny, my lovely. The experience makes ordinary aruna seem like puddle water. This is the finest of wines.’

‘Ouana and soume? Is that what you’re saying?’

‘Yes. Come to my hand. And relinquish yourself to physical sensation.’

Darq could feel then that inside his body, his ouana-lim was waking up. It was a peculiar stretched feeling, as if his body was confused. It seemed like the organ didn’t know whether to emerge or not. But the massaging fingers were persuasive, and Darq found it was possible to push against them, into them. Presently, he was hard, flowing into his unknown lover’s hands. On another level, he was wholly soume. It was a weird experience, like being two hara at the same time. The sensations were entirely different, yet somehow joined by a taut silver cord; that was the image in Darq’s mind. He closed his eyes, gave into it, and his conscious mind sank deep. It was like dreaming, ultimately. He was no longer aware of flesh, but simply expressions of feeling he had no terms for. The ouana-lim inside him was the same as the one outside of him, moving forward like a vehicle into unimaginable territory. They became one har, desiring more than hands around them.

And then the black, star-studded sky turned purple and the stars began to disappear. A monstrous shape appeared, first as a silhouette, then gradually taking form. It was a gigantic har, hanging in the sky, whose skin was the night. His hair was snakes of darkness and his beauty was terrible. This vision drew closer, becoming smaller as it did so, until it hung before Darq’s streaming eyes the size of an ordinary har. He rolled onto his back, unable to feel the har beneath him. All he knew was that he wanted to bury himself in that wondrous vision. Darkness engulfed him; hot, scented darkness. His entire body was squeezed, every atom of him crying aloud. He could feel his own release, and it was as if he expelled a torrent of new worlds, exploding stars and sparkling cosmic clouds. All of which were absorbed by the entity squatting over him. Darq screamed. He couldn’t help it. He saw the vision creature in perfect detail as it drank his essence. It was not a living har. It was something otherworldly, in the form of a har. A god, a dehar that smelled of blood and incense.

Other books

Get Shorty by Elmore Leonard
Trapped by Illyria, Selena
Courtney Milan by What Happened at Midnight
The Chemistry of Death by Simon Beckett
War From the Ground Up by Simpson, Emile
Murder at the Monks' Table by Carol Anne O'Marie
Searches & Seizures by Stanley Elkin
A Corpse in the Soup by Morgan St. James and Phyllice Bradner