The Ghosts of Blood and Innocence (59 page)

Ta Ke stared at her for some moments. ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘But there’s no need to create a portal. I can show you how to travel up through Mutandis.’

Geburael had neither lied nor exaggerated when he’d spoken of being unable to return to Thanatep. He was quite open about the fact that he considered his otherlanes traveling ability to be second to none. He intimated to Darq that he thought the Hashmallim believed he’d defected to the
sedim
and now they wanted to keep him out of Thanatep, perhaps for obvious reasons.

‘That may be so,’ Darq said. ‘But I really believe we can get in there if we do it together. It’s a gut feeling I have. I have to obey it.’

Even with this focused intention, Darquiel and Geburael still had an immense struggle to break into Thanatep. Darq could perceive the realm beyond the otherlanes, but whenever he and Geburael tried to create a portal, an invisible solid wall sprang up to obstruct it. It was only by repeatedly bombarding a specific point with intention and energy that eventually the barrier began to weaken. It was exhausting work, not least because hara are vulnerable in the otherlanes. Parasites are drawn whenever they perceive weakness. They hovered at the edges of Darq’s perception, waiting to strike. It was almost impossible to keep up his guard and assault the barrier at the same time.

We need more power,
Darq told Geburael.
It’s rebuilding itself almost as quickly as we can break it down.

Geburael’s response was an enraged cry in Darq’s mind.
I’m tired of this! We can’t keep it up. They won’t keep us out any longer! Believe it, and throw out every bit of energy you still have.

They directed a final searing blast of will at the weakest spot and for a moment Darq thought it hadn’t worked and they’d have to abandon their plan. Then suddenly, the barrier broke and disgorged them, almost like expelling a nauseating irritant. They were falling from the sky, perhaps from five feet above the ground, into the stark realm of Thanatep.

Darquiel landed heavily on top of Geburael, who expressed a sharp cry of agony. For some moments, neither of them moved and then Darquiel crawled away. He scanned himself for broken bones or other injuries and was relieved to find none. ‘Geburael, are you all right?’

Geburael hauled himself into a sitting position. ‘Barely.’ He was rubbing one wrist.

‘Is that broken?’

Geburael shook his head. ‘Hurts, but no, just twisted.’

Darq got to his feet. They were perhaps half a mile away from the city of broken towers, which lay at the bottom of a long slope. It was an amazing place, beautiful in its strangeness, but Darq could perceive no sign of life. ‘Where will Loki be?’ he asked Geburael.

Geburael also stood up. ‘In his tower, or in the otherlanes with Zikael… he could be anywhere.’ 

‘Well, let’s go and look for him.’

‘What do you intend to do when we find him?’

Darq had no idea, but realised Geburael needed an answer. ‘Talk. What else? I’m here with
you
. That must count for something.’

Geburael looked around himself. ‘Keep on the lookout for Thanax. They’re inhabitants of this realm, and sometimes dangerous. Loki seems to have an empathy with them, but I wouldn’t recommend getting too close.’

‘What do they look like?’

‘I’ll tell you about them,’ Geburael said. He indicated a path that led slightly to the west. ‘We’ll follow this trail. I don’t think we should enter the city head on. Diablo is there too. I’ll leave you in a safe place and go to find Loki.’

As they followed the path that skirted Thannaril, Geburael related to Darq all that he and Loki had learned of the Thanax, details that had been left out of the discussions in Immanion.

‘Shouldn’t you have told hara about this?’ Darq asked. ‘I mean, if these creatures are failed inceptions and so on…’

‘Darquiel,’ Geburael said firmly, ‘this is a side issue.’

‘Though probably not to the Thanax,’ Darq insisted.

‘Then
you
sort it out, once you’ve given us all a happy ending.’

Darq flared his nostrils. ‘I’ll certainly not forget it.’ He paused. ‘Lileem and the Thanad must be in Thannaril Below. After the
happy ending
, as you put it, we should try to contact them. You know how to get down there.’

Geburael nodded, frowning slightly. ‘I suppose so. You’re assuming Loki will be open to what you’ve got to say. I wouldn’t count on that.’

‘I don’t think he’s stupid,’ Darq said. ‘He’ll surely listen to reason, whatever’s been done to him. I believe I can reach him. I have
to believe it.’

Geburael merely sighed.

Loki sat meditating at the summit of Ninzini. Zikael had given him power, even if it was so alien he could barely understand it. His whole being was focused upon destroying the brother he’d been told was an abomination. He would do this thing, and he would find a way to get Geburael back.

His trance was disturbed by a mind touch from Diablo. Loki opened his eyes and saw that Diablo was also with him physically, only a few feet away.

‘It’s nearly time,’ Diablo said. Ever since Geburael had gone, Diablo had been different with Loki. His behavior could not be called kindly exactly, but there was a new empathy between the two of them. He didn’t even appear so freakish to Loki now.

‘How do you know?’ Loki asked.

‘I received a communication,’ Diablo answered. ‘The abomination is with your family. They have embraced him.’

‘What?’ Loki’s voice was a rasp.

Diablo sat down opposite Loki, who couldn’t help thinking that if circumstances had been very different, Diablo could have been more like Geburael was. He felt a pang of sympathy for this har who’d been born in the poisoned realm of Gebaddon. ‘Demons are often very beautiful,’ Diablo said. ‘The Aralisians admire surface beauty and in this case have been seduced by it.’

‘What of Geburael?’ Loki asked. He could tell that Diablo was thinking of Geburael.

‘He’s with them too,’ Diablo said, ‘but he’ll bring the demon here for you, Loki. I feel them approaching, like a hot wind, full of stinging sand. You must be ready.’

‘I am,’ Loki said simply. He stood up.

Diablo also rose to his feet and took hold of Loki’s hands. ‘You won’t be fighting alone,’ he said. ‘Use my senses. Use my strength. They are yours to draw upon.’

Diablo leaned close and Loki realised the har meant to share breath with him. He had a feeling that Diablo might never have done this before. Somewhere deep inside himself, he was shocked that he was willing to comply with Diablo’s wish, but he wrapped his arms around Diablo’s cold thin body and pulled him close. What lay in Diablo’s breath wasn’t cold though, it was unnatural heat. It poured into Loki’s flesh, invading every cell. It was a roar in his head; a hurricane scouring his inner landscape. It filled him with strength so vital and beyond compassion he lost himself to it.

Loki pulled his head away from Diablo’s. ‘More than this,’ he panted. ‘Give me more. Is there time?’

Diablo smiled grimly, one hand running purposefully down Loki’s back. ‘I’m pleasantly surprised by you, Loki har Aralis,’ he said. ‘Yes, there’s time.’

Darq and Geburael had reached the shadow of the outermost tower of Thannaril Above. Darq could feel strange energies wheeling around him, like invisible flying fish with huge diaphanous tails. He felt light-headed. Geburael put a hand on Darq’s right arm and pointed to one of the towers with his free hand. ‘Go in there. It’s empty. Wait for me.’

Darq didn’t like the idea of waiting, but could see the sense in Geburael’s suggestion. ‘All right. Try not to take too long.’

Geburael grunted in response and jogged off between the clustering towers.

Darq examined the edifice before him for some moments and then walked up the worn steps to the entranceway, some fifteen feet above the ground. He felt he was being observed. Thannaril was too silent for his liking, because the silence didn’t really indicate emptiness; something other than that. At the threshold to the tower, a dark red lizard-like creature regarded Darq with intelligent eyes. After a moment, it sped off down the steps. Darq went inside.

He could tell at once that a very faint residue of power remained in this place. He walked around the circular room, touching the walls. As he did so, a weak vibration shivered up his arm. He came to a flight of stone steps that led to the next floor. There was something about the uninviting black hole of the room above that called to him. He began to mount the steps, one hand still touching the wall. Something was waiting for him up there; a revelation.

Darq had no sooner set foot on the dusty floorboards at the top of the steps when a powerful force hit him full in the chest. He would have been thrown back down the steps if he hadn’t willed himself to fall to the side. He rolled over, on his feet in an instant, his body held in a defensive crouch. Something was in there with him, but it was invisible to him, and neither could he gain any information about it with his inner sight. He calmed his breath, mustered his strength in the way that Ookami had taught him. If another assault came, he’d be ready for it.

Unfortunately, the next blow came from behind and caught him full in the back of the head. Darq was thrown to his knees; red lights pulsed in his eyes. He realised that whoever or whatever was attacking him was darting in and out of the otherlanes. Warmth ran down his face; his head was bleeding.
Hashmallim!
He thought. But they were playing with him. If they’d wanted to, they could have killed him outright.

He directed healing energy into the wound to stem the flow of blood, and drew his strength in around him like a shield. At the same time, he extended his perception to observe otherlanes portals forming. He had to move into a kind of quick time to be faster than whatever came for him.  He perceived it then, a pale blur flashing past him. There was a further flicker of movement, which he focused his perceptions to identify; a weapon. It looked like a metal bar. He whipped out a hand and grabbed hold of it, swinging all of his weight into the movement. Whoever or whatever held the weapon would be thrown off balance. A body slammed onto the floor beside him, and rolled over several times before it came to rest, stunned.

Darq felt a jolt in his flesh. His assailant was Loki. Darq recognised the pale hair, the face too like Cal’s, which was bizarre considering Cal wasn’t really his father. But Loki’s inner essence had somehow changed. Darq could feel no sense of familiarity. What had the Hashmallim done to him, and what was he doing here, at this precise moment? Darq wondered if Geburael had betrayed him and had simply told Loki where to find him.

Loki was still only for an instant. Before Darq could even say his brother’s name, he was faced with another attack. Loki moved unbelievably fast; undoubtedly the results of Hashmallim training. He pushed Darq backwards until they were up against the far wall. Loki’s face was a snarling mask. His hands were round Darq’s throat, pressing it with an iron grasp. Hostile energy streamed from those hands; the intention to explode arteries and shred the heart. Darq could barely fend him off. He sent an arrow of crippling energy into Loki’s eyes and in the brief lessening of Loki’s grip managed to free himself. He knew it was impossible to negotiate with this har. Loki didn’t utter a word, not even a threat or an insult. He was a single purpose; a killing machine.

Darq ran to the stairs, hurtled down them. He intended to get outside, give himself enough space to clear his head. He had to formulate a strategy to incapacitate Loki. It was impossible to do that in the face of such mindless aggression.

Loki attacked him again before he reached the entrance. Darq sent a loud message:
Stop!
But it was ignored. He realised that part of his defenses must be to stop caring whether he hurt Loki or not. He had to survive.

Uttering a hoarse cry of anger, Darq stopped defending himself and fought back. He fought with his fists and his feet, but also his intention. He projected himself into the place where his mind had been throughout his training. He was stronger than Loki; he had to be.

In Phaonica, Cal awoke from sleep and sat up in bed, the covers falling from his body. The room was utterly without light; not even the soft sheen of the lamps from the city below penetrated the murk. He could see nothing, not even Pellaz, who he could tell still slept on beside him, breathing deeply and evenly. Earlier, they had dared to think that everything might turn out all right, that danger would pass, that Darquiel was the shining herald of a new, more enlightened, age.  

Pellaz had asked Cal to come to him after the dinner party and from the mere glance Pell had given him, Cal had been waiting all evening for the party to end. Part of him had been concerned about Darquiel; he had sensed their son had private plans. But mainly he’d wanted to see what lay behind the look in Pell’s eyes. He quickly found out. Perhaps for the first time since he’d come to Immanion, Cal had felt that Pellaz had given himself fully, without cares of the past marring their union. It was as if Darquiel’s return had healed ancient wounds, and brought soothing awareness.

The sweet oblivion of aruna had lasted for several hours, until both Cal and Pellaz had fallen asleep. But now Cal knew, in the deepest fibers of his body, that everything was not all right and that passion can be a brightly painted veil. He could feel it in the unnatural dark; he could feel it in the listening stillness.

‘What?’ he said aloud.

In the distance, he heard wolves lamenting. His skin prickled. There were no wolves around Immanion.

‘
What?
’

A figure appeared before him, limned in a soft radiance. It hung at the end of the bed, like a vision of an angel. It was Tava-edzen. ‘Go to him,’ Tava-edzen said. ‘You must go at once.’

Cal opened his mouth to speak, ask a question, but then his body flinched sharply, and he found he was waking from a dream. He opened his eyes and the room was dimly lit by a lamp on a table near the door. Cal swallowed. His mouth was dry. He glanced at Pellaz, who was lying on his stomach, covered by the shawl of his hair. Cal carefully got out of bed and reached for his clothes.