The Ghosts of Blood and Innocence (51 page)

Geburael nodded thoughtfully. ‘Supposing they
can
show him to us. Zikael fobbed you off with a vague promise. If all he said was true, it might be dangerous to get close to this har – especially for you. Five times stronger than you?’ Geburael shook his head slowly. ‘If that’s the truth, we might be up against more than we know.’

Loki paused, then said, ‘I know. But the Aasp might be more willing to allow you to get close to him, rather than me.’

Geburael laughed. ‘The Aasp have never restricted
my
movements! It’s not a case of ‘allow’. All I’ll need is a few precise clues as to his whereabouts.’ Geburael reached out and clasped Loki’s shoulders. ‘And if it comes to having to kill him, I will do it, not you.’

Loki pushed Geburael’s hands away. ‘I can’t ask you to do that!’ he exclaimed. ‘If blood has to be on somehar’s hands, it should be mine.’

Geburael closed his eyes briefly. ‘Loki, Loki,’ he said softly, ‘have you no idea how much I love you? I won’t let you do this thing. You’ll return to your home realm one day. I don’t want this act to haunt your conscience. I’m a lost cause. I
will
do it.  Don’t argue. A Tigron shouldn’t have the blood of his kin on his hands.’

Loki stared into Geburael’s unflinching gaze. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘Can I ask you to do something else?’

‘Anything.’

‘Don’t let Diablo touch you again.’

Geburael ducked his head, uttered a half laugh, but it was a sound of discomfort. ‘He hasn’t touched me, Loki, not since we were first together. I’m not sure how long I can keep that up, though. He’ll become suspicious.’

‘It’s nearly over,’ Loki said firmly. ‘Us being here, I mean. I really believe that. Please try, Geb. It won’t be for long.’

‘How do you see our future?’ Geburael asked, and now his voice was wistful. ‘Back in Immanion, will you still want me, or am I simply a comfort here, because it’s convenient?’

Loki took Geburael’s face in his hands and kissed him. ‘We are close in blood,’ he said, ‘and I’m not sure what our family will think of us being together, but I’d be proud to have you by my side in Immanion.’

‘Perhaps it would only be a problem if we wanted a harling,’ Geburael said.

Loki found these words shocked him, but not in an altogether unpleasant way. ‘Would we be inbreeding? Is that what you mean?’

Geburael shrugged. ‘I don’t know much about Wraeththu biology, except for the basics.’

Loki sighed. ‘Such considerations are a long way away, in both space and time.’  He gripped Geburael’s arms briefly. ‘Let’s cross that bridge if we’re fortunate enough to get to it.’ He backed away, rubbing his arms and then began to pace around the tiled floor. ‘For now, it seems like a dream. There are monsters in front of us: that’s what it feels like.’

‘Calm down,’ Geburael said. ‘There’s no point worrying about the future until it happens.’

Loki threw up his arms. ‘I feel so restless, like I should be doing something. I can’t just sit around waiting for Zikael to come back.’

‘We could investigate Thannaril Below again,’ Geburael suggested hopefully.

Loki shook his head. ‘No. I don’t want to go there.’ He pursed his lips. ‘I think I’ll keep practicing entering the otherlanes. It’ll occupy my mind.’

‘I’ll come with you…’

‘No!’ Loki said, then softened his tone. ‘Thanks, but I won’t be gone long.’

‘What are you thinking of doing?’ Geburael asked, suspicious.

Loki scratched at his hair. His whole body felt uncomfortable. ‘Nothing. I just want time on my own, that’s all. Also, I want to be proficient in the otherlanes, not an amateur. I want to strengthen my skills. If I’m to go up against a har who’s potentially five times more powerful than I am, I want to be prepared. That includes having the ability to make a quick getaway!’

Geburael laughed softly. ‘All right, but don’t brood alone. We’re in this together.’

Loki couldn’t help grimacing. ‘You brought me into this, yes.’

‘I’ll wait here,’ Geburael said dryly.

Loki went directly to his private realm and found himself a comfortable spot at the edge of his favorite lake. Perfumed breezes caressed the high branches of the trees. Blossom fell upon him like snow. He felt secure there, removed from all that was troubling. It was easier to think rationally in this place, without hot waves of apprehension washing over him. If his brother had to die, it must be accomplished without Loki’s family ever finding out. How could he think such a thing? Had he lost himself? And yet he was sure that Zikael had spoken the truth. The pearl had been created by three hara, which was surely unnatural. What had lived inside it was not strictly har. It was an opportunistic and greedy soul, like a cuckoo. Bigger than the nest.

Loki opened his eyes and stared out over the water. It was so much simpler to exist here. He could walk forever, creating his path ahead of him; new vistas, new wonders. There might be a tower at the end of his journey, at the end of time, and at the top of that tower was Geburael, cleansed of all taint. He wondered how feasible it was to invent that, in so elastic a realm as this. Would the Hashmal let him keep it as his sanctuary forever? A breeze brushed over his skin and he shivered.

Loki turned quickly, sure that someone was standing behind him. He perceived a shadow, a dark flicker on the edge of his vision. At once, he jumped to his feet, every hair on his body erect. A breath of chill wind flowed over him and harried the placid surface of the lake. The trees were not shedding blossoms now, but leaves. They came down in drifts, dried up and lifeless. Loki was flooded with the imperative to flee.
Create a portal; get out!
Something had invaded his realm, and it wasn’t Zikael.

Loki’s vision blurred; it was as if the realm itself was disintegrating. He tried to form the portal symbol in his mind, concentrate on the particular type of seeing that facilitated opening it, but it was as if he’d lost the ability to focus.

A disturbing shape had begun to manifest in front of him: a nebulous figure of a murky green color. Its eyes glowed yellow, sulfurous. Loki was filled with the urge to destroy it, an innate animal desire that eclipsed all instincts for survival. He was beyond controlling this feeling; it possessed him utterly.

Expelling a roar of rage, Loki lunged towards the invasive presence. He had become, in an instant, furious hatred incarnate. He lashed out with clawed hands, grabbing handfuls of cold viscous material that was neither gas nor flesh, but something of both. The apparition hissed, and it was the sound of a thousand enraged serpents about to strike. An amorphous limb shot out from the roiling mass and gripped Loki by the throat. It was so strong. Biting, kicking, Loki fought desperately, but the creature was too powerful. It pushed him towards the ground. He couldn’t breathe. For the first time in a long time, Loki screamed in his mind for Cal. That too was instinctive.

And the cry was heard, wasn’t it?

Loki could barely see, but was aware of another form that hurtled overhead, kicking out. The image swam into focus and Loki saw that it was Geburael, his face set into a furious snarl. It all happened so quickly. Geburael’s attack on Loki’s assailant somehow managed to loosen its grip. Loki sucked in a lungful of air, spluttered. Something wet rained down onto him, but it wasn’t blood.

Geburael yelled at Loki: ‘Get out! Get out!’ The invader was twining itself around him.

Loki once again tried to form the portal, thinking that somehow he must drag Geburael with him, but it was still so hard to concentrate. The image of Geburael was only half visible through the seething mist of murky green. Spears of invisible energy were shooting in from all directions. There was a sound like thunder, a great crack and the sky disappeared. Loki saw what looked like an immense
sedu
manifest, its nostrils and eyes flaming red. It was no gentle beautiful creature, but demonic, its teeth too long, the lips peeled back from them like those of a mad dog. This creature seized Geburael in its jaws. Geburael fought back. From what Loki could make out, the initial invasive presence had vanished. It was insane. His serene realm had become a maelstrom of hostile energy.

Loki redoubled his efforts, trying to push all distracting images from his mind. He must find a quiet space in his head, otherwise both he and Geburael were surely dead. Geburael was clearly in no position to open a portal himself. Concentration was almost impossible and although Loki sensed a portal was forming, it was too slow. He uttered a cry of despair, projected his intention with every shred of will he possessed. Then the portal was there, hanging before him: a splash of pulsating light. Loki leapt towards it, grabbing hold of one of Geburael’s arms as he did so. Sensations of his surakin’s pain shot through his fingers. He could feel the
sedu
pulling against him.

‘No!’ Geburael cried. ‘Go, Loki! Go now!’

‘I can’t!’ Loki yelled back, and his voice seemed to fly away from him and be swallowed by hurricanes of energy. ‘I can’t leave you!’

‘You must!’

At that moment, a shout vibrated through the hectic air, like the voice of a dehar. It stripped the last leaves from the trees and cracked branches that began to crash to the ground. It flattened the grass and caused the waters of the lake to boil. This voice boomed Geburael’s name and the entire realm shattered into fragments of whirling color. At the same time, Zikael manifested in the portal; a tall dark shape with flying hair, beckoning urgently. His summons could not be disobeyed. Loki’s body complied with it beyond his will.

Just before Loki was sucked through the portal, Geburael uttered a hoarse cry. There were entities all around him. He was consumed by them.

Loki came to his senses on the floor of Ninzini, gasping painfully. He felt he’d inhaled acid and coughed up liquid, which was like sour water, but perhaps something else. Diablo and Zikael stood over him. Zikael too appeared shaken; his breath was labored, his silken hair in disarray. For once, Diablo had an expression other than disdainful contempt on his face. He looked distraught.

Loki scrambled into a sitting position; his head swam. He was covered in a strange oily deposit, as if he’d walked through greasy smoke. ‘What happened?’ he managed to say. ‘Zikael…’

‘Our enemies seek to pre-empt us,’ Zikael said grimly.

‘Geburael…’ Loki’s voice was a plea.

‘He was taken,’ Zikael snapped. ‘There was nothing I could do to prevent it. I had to take you to safety.’

‘But what took him?’ Loki asked. ‘What
were
those things?’

‘You met your brother,’ Zikael said. ‘The abomination was there in that realm, along with other entities. I have no idea how or why.’ It was clear this lack of understanding had unsettled the Hashmal greatly, since it was rare he felt that way.

‘My
brother
…’ Loki clasped his head, which was aching in a deep, pulsing manner. A brief thought of the Thanax crossed his mind.

‘He must have been looking for you,’ Zikael said. ‘He obviously meant to kill you. Geburael must have followed you, and it’s fortunate he did. He sacrificed himself to save you. He called for me.’

‘And now that har has taken Geb?’

Zikael shook his head. ‘No. A
sedu
came, but also something else. I believe an agent of the Aralisians has taken Geburael, no doubt at the injunction of the
sedim
. Your family is in league with the
sedim
. This is difficult, Loki. The time has come for you to make a choice. Your family is misled. Only you have clear sight now.  Only you can save them.’

‘He’s so much stronger than me,’ Loki said. ‘You warned me.’ He stared at Zikael fiercely. ‘If you want my compliance, make me as strong. Help me to vanquish him.’

Zikael held out an arm and Loki took hold it, let the Hashmal pull him to his feet. ‘Are you with us now, Loki?’

Loki bared his teeth. ‘I am your avatar,’ he said.

Behind him, Diablo laughed. Loki shuddered. He heard madness in that sound.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

In the garden of the prison house, Abrimel and Caeru sat on the ground, holding onto the young har they’d pulled from the otherlanes. Pellaz sprawled on the grass, some distance away, dazed. He had no clear idea what had just happened to them.

A few moments before, in an uncomfortable cauldron of prickly energy, the three of them had projected their minds to try and locate Geburael.  There had been nothing, a blank, and then something Pellaz could only describe as a psychic fanfare announced Geburael’s whereabouts to them.  Pellaz had received the impression that the young har had manifested spontaneously in a realm that was accessible to them. Pellaz could not travel without a
sedu
, and neither could Caeru or Abrimel, but suddenly, against their wills, they were dragged into another realm, in the midst of a bizarre conflict. It had all happened so swiftly, Pellaz could barely remember the details, but they’d pulled Geburael back with them. Or rather, a
sedu
had become involved and facilitated it.

Pellaz turned his head. Behind him stood Peridot, whose entire body was shaking. The Tigron stared at the
sedu
unblinkingly.

How did you know?
Pellaz demanded.
How did you know what I was going to do? You spied on me. You followed me.

You don’t trust me, beloved,
Peridot told him.

Pellaz uttered an involuntary snarl.
And you don’t trust me, since you’ve clearly been monitoring my movements.

Peridot shook his mane and took a few steps forward.
You don’t understand. Our enemies have set your sons against each other. You were there, with Loki, yet you did not recognise him. You were there, with your lost son, Darquiel, and you did not recognise him.

Pellaz leapt to his feet.
What? How can that be? I’d have known.

Peridot closed his dark eyes, his equine features set into the nearest to a sorrowful expression they could get.
But you didn’t, beloved. Can’t you see what’s been done to your progeny? Darquiel and Loki were fighting. If I hadn’t intervened, it could have been disastrous. If you wanted Geburael brought to you, you should have asked.