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thrihyrneThis only my third time to post a WIP, and my first Wraeththu fic. Most people on my flist aren't into this fandom at all, so to any new people here for this alone, welcome! If you're enjoying my gap filler, feel free to tell any harish-loving friends you have. Also if you note typos and the like, please tell me; I trust myself pretty well but normally have at least a couple of betas. In this endeavor, however, see my note about my usual suspects not knowing anything about this fandom.
Story continues from the first post, here. Also posted on the Forever pink boards for WsIP.
Title: Maelstrom and Mage, Desire Thine Darkling
Rating: Adult
Warnings: slash, WIP
Word Count: 3,700
Disclaimer: Ashmael, Vaysh, and the harish world all belong to Storm Constantine; I'm merely playing with great abandon in her sandbox.
Pairings: Vaysh/Ashmael
Summary: Before they knew of Immanion, or Thiede, before death and despair, Ashmael and Vaysh knew and loved each other. This is one way their story may have been told.
The next few days were filled with excitement and a few minor power skirmishes as the new hara became fully integrated into our camp. Belvac, who had been spending much of his time off in a hermitage of sorts in the woods, engaged in solitary contemplation and study, renewed his dedication to the future of our group as a whole by actually being bodily present. I'd respected his need for space and individual pursuits, as I'd often felt that same pull myself. Now, however, I saw him conferring with Kyrgian, or trying to take Jaffa back under his wing, though the har would have none of it. He was far too intrigued by the newcomers, especially Iolethe, trailing around after the kindly har like a shadow. One midday I took Iolethe aside to reassure him that if at any point Jaffa became a nuisance, he could let any of us know.
"I don't mind, truly," he said, wiping at the sweat on his ruddy skin. Iolethe wore his thick, caramel hair in a sea of complicated braids, woven full of coral beads. Lively, robin's egg blue eyes evaluated me before he asked, "When was he incepted?"
"Less than a year ago. Wycker is his older brother; they'd fled when their town burned. Rival human gangs had destroyed every decent person they could, and massacred their family."
Iolethe nodded. Violence and death had been the norm in the dystopic playground of most large cities. I didn't know Iolethe's particular inception story, and assumed if and when he wished to share it, he would. "Has he been told about Feybraiha?"
"About what?"
"Feybraiha. Harish puberty."
I must have looked dumbfounded, because he scratched absently at a mosquito bite and continued on. "He'll probably become an emotional mess, have meltdowns, be miserable, feel like his body is on fire, and then he'll need to be instructed in the ways of aruna. It's much like human puberty, but more intense. He'll know who he's been called to take aruna with; it's another one of those things that we just know instinctively as har."
"But he's taken aruna, of a sort. He had to, after his inception. Even though he was only eleven at the time."
"Right, but it was only to finalise his change, I assume. And he doesn't crave it now."
I suddenly felt that I'd done our youngest member a terrible disservice and realised just how much I still needed to learn about our newborn race. All at once Vaysh's calm but sensual voice sounded in my head.
You couldn't have known. Come and find me; I'd like to talk with you.
I felt soothed by his voice, though disconcerted that Vaysh had seemed almost a part of the conversation without physically being there.
Were you eavesdropping on me from wherever you are? I asked through mind-touch. My mind was indeed adapting, the different parts of my brain stretching their newly aware, harish muscles.
Not exactly. I could hear the smile in his voice. But come when you can.
"Oh, sorry," I said to Iolethe, who seemed to be expecting a verbal response during my silent exchange with Vaysh. "Vaysh was checking in with me, telepathically." I shook my head. "No doubt it'll become second nature, but chatting like that from a distance with regularity is still a novelty. I still struggle a bit."
He smiled, warmth dancing in his expression. "It's worth learning, but you're wise to be cautious. Getting back to Jaffa, I'd be happy to talk with him about what to expect."
"Shouldn't we all know?" I asked, brushing invisible dirt from my trousers and turning toward the edge of our dwellings nearest the woods; without being told, I knew Vaysh would be there.
"Yes, that would be smart." Iolethe reached out and held my bicep firmly, but in an unthreatening way. "Before Zain and I left our former clan, there were har already trying to create new life, solely among our own kind. It's only a matter of time before it happens here, too. Jaffa is alone in his upcoming bodily trial; the rest of you were older, as is common. I've at least seen somehar go through Feybraiha and know the signs."
My mind was reeling; I'd been stunned into a rare silence by the seeming preposterous statements Iolethe had so earnestly made.
"Har? Procreating?" My riotous imagination envisioned bloody rooms, bellies cut open and reptile-like monstrosities rending the air with hideous cries. "That's… unnatural," I settled on, though 'perverse' and 'horrifying' wanted to slip out instead.
Iolethe loosened his hand and instead pulled me close to him, his hand snugly at my waist. "You're an academic, or were," he said smoothly, taking a step in the direction I'd been heading to heed Vaysh's summons. I walked necessarily at his side, not minding the proximity. He, like Kyrgian, radiated a common sense and caring benevolence I gravitated to at that point in my early harhood.
"Surely you know that eventually humanity will succumb, and become as extinct as wooly mammoths. Inception has been the necessary way of our generation, but we're already evolving as a race."
"I know. It's mind-boggling," I said, jamming my hands into my pockets.
I was fond of Iolethe and his understated mannerisms; even in his few days with us, I'd noted that he had a unique ability to make anyhar around him feel useful and clever, though he rarely praised individuals outright. I didn't think Vaysh would think anything of us walking and talking, should we have our arms slung behind each other's backs, but we were so early in our courtship — he and I were nearly erupting with sexual tension after three days, but I was letting him set the pace and we'd not taken aruna yet, which was excruciating — I wanted him to be sure that I had no designs on anyhar else. No doubt I had every reason to eat my self-aggrandizing words I'd posited to Ondin about possession, and he'd gloat until he'd gorged on it.
My mind was still fixated on harish… pregnancy? Incubation? What the hell would it be? There were no Wraeththu anatomy books, no surgeons. I certainly wasn't going to volunteer as a wielder of a scalpel or as a subject.
"Have you seen?" I asked, my voice low and breathless. "I just can't fathom it."
As we approached the edge of our camp, we saw Vaysh sitting on his horse, Arches. Mine, a diligent mare named Willow, wandered nearby.
"In my mind's eye, I've seen," Iolethe answered with equally quiet reverence. "First things first, though. We'll get Jaffa through his Feybraiha. I think it'll happen before autumn is over, he just has that look about him. For now, enjoy your time with Vaysh. You're good for him."
I turned as he stepped away, glancing up at Vaysh who gave him a knowing, irritated glare. His affection for Iolethe and the others in his small group poured from him, though, an auralic energy that pulsed strongly enough to be felt, like enfolding, protective wings.
"You're meddling," he accused Iolethe before sitting up straight. He tossed back his hair, the mannerism evoking a horse shaking its mane. "I don't need your help, though your unnecessary approval is noted."
An excited crowd of fireflies seemed to have lodged in my belly as I went over and swung myself into Willow's saddle. I knew why there was such a muddling in my stomach, the unrest travelling down to my groin as I discreetly rubbed against the leather for a modicum of relief. Vaysh's eyes were guarded as he told Iolethe we'd be back later in the day. Once we'd ridden for a couple of minutes, however, he glanced at me. The unspoken message was blatant, his formerly tamed hunger now voracious.
To distract myself from the increasing discomfort of suffering an erection while riding, I asked Vaysh whether or not he'd known any har who had tried to generate life together, not through the ritual of inception.
"How on earth did you come to that topic?" he asked, disdainful curiosity reflected in his furrowed brow. "It's inevitable, of course, or as a species we'd not last much longer than our actual life span, which is in itself an unknown. Still. I was first born as a human male, so having a child of my own wasn't a possibility. Reborn as Wraeththu perhaps I can, if the right har comes along." The last part was said dryly and I snickered under my breath.
"Someone to make a respectable har out of you?" I joked, leering at him even as I spent precious seconds reining in my roaring libido. It wasn't the idea of my seed combining with Vaysh's to create an unspeakable, fantastical creature which ensnared me; it was joining with him at all, knowing him intimately from inside and out, his bewitching body, beguiling mind and mysterious soul.
We were riding into the woods, following a disguised trail to Belvac's hermitage. There he and I would take aruna, I simply knew it, just as I'd known where to find Vaysh. I'd never… inseminated? other har when taking aruna, and there were thankfully no har-children around to that effect. A sliver of my rational self tended some embers of fear that Vaysh and I could do such a thing, unwittingly, but a soothing calm from outside myself reassured me that if and when I created harling life, I would know. I had every belief that this, Vaysh's and my inaugural and — I dared to treasure the word — sacred joining would be burned into my memory forever.
"Respect like that doesn't interest me," Vaysh declared, rousing me from my musings. He arched an eyebrow and gave me a look so molten with lust I felt my ouana-lim strain against its confines.
"By the Aghama," I moaned, knowing full well he could tell how desperate I was to feel him, to share breath, to share absolutely everything.
"Oh, Ashmael, you're so transparent." False irritation threaded his voice. "I know you're dying to be naked together, after days of waiting. Not much longer now before we burn your companion's bed with the flames of our passion."
"Do you always talk like that about aruna?" I asked candidly. Never mind my own inner flowery thoughts, but I kept them to myself. Vaysh had arrived and without preamble or warning produced the key to my heart and let himself in. But that didn't mean I adored all of his mannerisms.
"Are you always so judgmental?" he shot back.
"No."
I bristled with righteous indignation as the rustic wooden structure came into view. Vaysh had a point, which explained my itchy discomfort with myself. Through all of this, my irrevocable change from human to har, from intended university student to necessary murderer, survivalist, and embarrassingly self-fascinated new creature, I'd never let anyhar truly into my being. I did judge, and everyhar, even Euclase, came up wanting. I did love Euclase, but we were like old pines, comfortable and familiar, planted side by side centuries ago.
We dismounted and let the horses wander nearby. I guessed that Vaysh had spoken to Belvac about this spot; like so much about Vaysh, the understanding simply flowed between us, wordless and certain. He stood before me on the top of the three stairs until I walked up to join him, paused on the threshold of the inevitable. My rancor had melted away; all I felt as I interlaced our fingers was a labyrinthine emptiness, that my soul was a hollow, chambered nautilus.
"Fill me," I whispered, bereft.
I began to drown, swept into his swirling currents of empathy. Then he closed his eyes and tenderly pushed his breath into my awaiting mouth. Vaysh shared pleasant memories from his childhood; images of his inception and banding together with his current clan danced into me. I gifted him with scenes of my own, including some wishful fantasies of the two of us whose time I hoped would yet blossom into being. There was a restless urgency pounding in my blood as our bodies rutted together. I pulled away, breathing heavily, my hands itching to feel every inch of his skin. A question I'd never thought to ask skipped onto my tongue.
"How do I taste?"
Vaysh's gaze was that of a starving man sitting down to a feast. He didn't answer for a time, unbuttoning my shirt, his fingers fumbling in their haste much like my racing, stuttering heartbeat.
"Ashmael," he breathed into the sensitive flesh of my ear, lust frissoning down my spine, "you taste of fire-warmed stone and twilight. Of home."
I could do nothing but worship him. We somehow managed to situate ourselves inside the hermitage and shed our clothes before I fell to my knees before him, drinking in the wonder of his ouana-lim, its pulsing vermilion and plum. I swallowed him down, working my throat to bring him the greatest pleasure I could. Easing back, my tongue darted around the opened petals, lapping and savouring the vinegarsweet of his phosphorescent essence. His curses and adulations rained on me until I was soaked in his praise.
I wanted to absorb him; I needed Vaysh to know every heated, grasping contour, every dark recess of my heart. He put a finger under my chin and tilted up my head. I released my prize, though his crimson stem continued to jut proudly from its thatch of golden curls.
"Bed, I think," he said hoarsely.
We tumbled onto it, rolling and pressing skin against skin, hands flying over muscle and bone like careening birds. I held my breath as I hovered above him, achingly empty, soume in its entirety. A flicker of fear ghosted across Vaysh's countenance; neediness seeped from my pores, and doubtless the scent to him was overwhelming. I sank down onto his ouana-lim, he the bolt, and I the latch until with a ragged sigh, we were locked together.
Aruna isn't always transformative or profound, but for we Wraeththu it has the potential to shatter and remake the universe. In my first years as har, for all of my experimentation, I hadn't yet learned much in the arts or finesse of taking aruna. That afternoon, however, as the scent of primeval pine and resin filled our humble bower, I had my first real taste of euphoric delirium. Vaysh clasped me down to him and rolled us over, my legs thrown around his waist, my ankles crossed so I could pull him ever deeper into me. Vaysh's frenzied rockings caused the rickety bed to slam repeatedly against the floor. Through sweat-stung eyes I consumed him, his open, panting mouth, the slightly crooked lower teeth that were so precious in an otherwise too-perfect visage. I was the sea; he was fey and bold. Valiantly he navigated through my roiling waters until at last his thin, whipping sail struck at dry land, deep within me.
Our release was the terrifying rush of a tsunami, and when it had passed we lay in a jumble of limbs, gasping and wide-eyed. Amid the flotsam of sheets and leather wrist bands that had slipped from their fastenings, we gazed at each other, survivors of our passionate shipwreck.
Instead of being exhausted, I was invigorated, yet all I wanted was to clean up a bit and rest together. Trust in my own limbs was suspect. Vaysh gently and carefully uncoupled us; I wasn't all that often soume and due to our athletic enthusiasm, I knew I would be a bit tender for a time.
"You are—" I started to say, but Vaysh placed a finger on my lips, effectively silencing my inadequate commentary.
He manoeuvred to lie on top of me, his lean form not quite as long as mine. My ouana-lim had slowly re-emerged to take its usual place of attention, so Vaysh was especially cautious as he covered me, pale and silent as snow blanketing a mountain. He spread his fingers into mine, burrowing his face against my neck, his lyrical chant only barely audible. At last I figured out that he was offering up a prayer of thanks, or of gratitude, though to whom I wasn't certain. After a few moments he slid to his side, spooning to my torso. That was how I dozed, the haunting hoot of an owl punctuating my hazy dreams.
* * * * *
"Get up! Ash! The camp!" Vaysh hissed, his eyes wide and terrible.
"What?!" I exclaimed, my nerves instantaneously on alert as well. Then I felt it, Belvac's call and, perhaps most startling of all, Jaffa's abject terror.
"They're under attack. Come on, come on!" he bellowed as we frantically dressed.
The horses had intuited our distress, and raced us home to our small cluster of buildings. The sight assaulted all of my sensibilities— depraved, brutal har battling with those of our clan, who with their own knives and fists were retaliating fiercely.
Uigenna. I've got to find Llembara, Vaysh's clipped voice sounded in my head.
"Vaysh!" I yelled, but he was gone and I fell into the fray.
I wish that had been the day I'd discovered my calling to command, but I was too young then, and everything I did was reaction, not guided action. I saw we were vastly outnumbered, though to my crazed and grateful evaluation, I saw nohar from my clan in my line of sight had been slain. I roared as I galloped past one of the scarred Uigenna, plunging the knife I'd taken from its holder at my waist into his back, ignoring the sickening sensation of the blade sliding though muscle and ribs to pierce his heart.
We fought bravely, but the Uigenna obviously had far more practise at intimidating and killing hara. Eventually I found myself snarling, standing at the front of a group of three of our tribe, slashing at our enemies. Behind me was Jaffa, now soaked in blood, his hand gripping his own knife he'd doubtless stolen from our kitchens. There was a gloating sneer on the har facing me, certain he and his ruthless cronies would murder us all, take our horses and God only knew what else. My blood turned to ice when one of them, a terrifying beauty aside from the gaping wound where his left ear once had been, spoke, his gaze fixated on Jaffa.
"Somehar is a fiery, pretty thing. I think we should take him, unspoiled."
There was a choking, terrified gurgle as Jaffa pressed up behind me.
"Over this har's dead body," I growled.
The macabre joy of his intent to kill me had just passed across the Uigenna's face when we were all cowed by an explosion. Our assailants looked confused for a moment, then horrified as dazzling tendrils of scarlet, corded light wrapped around their necks, disappearing into their bodies as they writhed in agony, falling to the ground.
I could only stare in shock, clawing at my own neck as I watched the three Uigenna die in front of me. They screamed in pain until he life had been choked from their bodies from this unrecognisable, malevolent and yet resplendent force. Regaining my wits, I kicked at them to make sure they were dead, yelling out in mind-touch to Vaysh and Euclase.
Are you okay? What the fuck was that?
Yes, and Oh God, Mael, come now. It's Monarch, ricocheted into my mind both at once, Vaysh's trembling, weary voice and Euclase, in a panic.
I turned around, my body still thrumming with adrenaline. Jaffa, Polaris and Wycker appeared relatively unharmed, albeit in a state of shock.
"I'll be back. The Uigenna are dead. I've got to get to the rest of our clan."
They nodded and Wycker's expression settled into disgust and fury as he looked at the bodies of the dead har on the ground.
"I'll take them out away from here and burn them," he spat.
I knew I needed to find Monarch and Euclase, but I spared precious seconds to pull Jaffa to me. He shuddered.
"I killed one," he said fiercely.
"He won't be the last," I said, realising then just how close we'd all come to being exterminated by these har. "Take care of yourself. I'll be back as soon as I can," I promised before sprinting away to the laundry where I sensed I'd find the one who'd called for me.
The scene I faced there was too terrible for my rational mind to contemplate, yet my body continued to go through the necessary motions as I collapsed by the body of our clan leader. He'd been sliced open from neck to hip, a festering wound oozing a hideous stench. I couldn't imagine what they'd put on the blade to cause this. His pallor was yellowish, the floor around him dark with pooling blood. Euclase's eyes begged for assistance, for relief and consolation. Kyrgian was chanting, his hands held above Monarch, incanting spells of healing and restoration.
"Ondin," I urged, and Euclase flew out the door to find him.
Crouching at Kyrgian's side, I, too put forth what powers I had to try and channel strength and regrowth from the earth. My concentration wasn't what it should have been and I cursed my rampant mind. Ondin ran in a few moments later, an audible gasp dying on his lips before he snapped to attention and fell into the role of surgeon. He readied a nearby pail with herbal water and cleansed the wound until at least the stink from it had been washed away. Kyrgian was in a trance, his lips never ceasing their intonations as Ondin sewed up the slashed flesh.
Vaysh and Llembara staggered in and I looked helplessly at them. Part of me felt dead. The rest wailed silent banshee cries at the world and the barbaric hara who had attacked us, bringing us to our knees, and for what? Surely it was bloodlust, nothing more. I loathed them with every fibre of being, shaking with wrath even as Vaysh sank down next to me, pulling me to his chest and rocking me as though I were a child.
"What did you do?" I asked once Monarch had been laid in a bed, still unconscious.
"Grissecon," he said quietly, his long fingers cradling my head. "We'd never tried anything that powerful before. Thank God it worked."
Mutely I nodded, unable to formulate a sentence. Vaysh was still at my side when Monarch died, on the cusp of a lilac dawn.
.:~ to be continued ~:.
Story continues from the first post, here. Also posted on the Forever pink boards for WsIP.
Title: Maelstrom and Mage, Desire Thine Darkling
Rating: Adult
Warnings: slash, WIP
Word Count: 3,700
Disclaimer: Ashmael, Vaysh, and the harish world all belong to Storm Constantine; I'm merely playing with great abandon in her sandbox.
Pairings: Vaysh/Ashmael
Summary: Before they knew of Immanion, or Thiede, before death and despair, Ashmael and Vaysh knew and loved each other. This is one way their story may have been told.
The next few days were filled with excitement and a few minor power skirmishes as the new hara became fully integrated into our camp. Belvac, who had been spending much of his time off in a hermitage of sorts in the woods, engaged in solitary contemplation and study, renewed his dedication to the future of our group as a whole by actually being bodily present. I'd respected his need for space and individual pursuits, as I'd often felt that same pull myself. Now, however, I saw him conferring with Kyrgian, or trying to take Jaffa back under his wing, though the har would have none of it. He was far too intrigued by the newcomers, especially Iolethe, trailing around after the kindly har like a shadow. One midday I took Iolethe aside to reassure him that if at any point Jaffa became a nuisance, he could let any of us know.
"I don't mind, truly," he said, wiping at the sweat on his ruddy skin. Iolethe wore his thick, caramel hair in a sea of complicated braids, woven full of coral beads. Lively, robin's egg blue eyes evaluated me before he asked, "When was he incepted?"
"Less than a year ago. Wycker is his older brother; they'd fled when their town burned. Rival human gangs had destroyed every decent person they could, and massacred their family."
Iolethe nodded. Violence and death had been the norm in the dystopic playground of most large cities. I didn't know Iolethe's particular inception story, and assumed if and when he wished to share it, he would. "Has he been told about Feybraiha?"
"About what?"
"Feybraiha. Harish puberty."
I must have looked dumbfounded, because he scratched absently at a mosquito bite and continued on. "He'll probably become an emotional mess, have meltdowns, be miserable, feel like his body is on fire, and then he'll need to be instructed in the ways of aruna. It's much like human puberty, but more intense. He'll know who he's been called to take aruna with; it's another one of those things that we just know instinctively as har."
"But he's taken aruna, of a sort. He had to, after his inception. Even though he was only eleven at the time."
"Right, but it was only to finalise his change, I assume. And he doesn't crave it now."
I suddenly felt that I'd done our youngest member a terrible disservice and realised just how much I still needed to learn about our newborn race. All at once Vaysh's calm but sensual voice sounded in my head.
You couldn't have known. Come and find me; I'd like to talk with you.
I felt soothed by his voice, though disconcerted that Vaysh had seemed almost a part of the conversation without physically being there.
Were you eavesdropping on me from wherever you are? I asked through mind-touch. My mind was indeed adapting, the different parts of my brain stretching their newly aware, harish muscles.
Not exactly. I could hear the smile in his voice. But come when you can.
"Oh, sorry," I said to Iolethe, who seemed to be expecting a verbal response during my silent exchange with Vaysh. "Vaysh was checking in with me, telepathically." I shook my head. "No doubt it'll become second nature, but chatting like that from a distance with regularity is still a novelty. I still struggle a bit."
He smiled, warmth dancing in his expression. "It's worth learning, but you're wise to be cautious. Getting back to Jaffa, I'd be happy to talk with him about what to expect."
"Shouldn't we all know?" I asked, brushing invisible dirt from my trousers and turning toward the edge of our dwellings nearest the woods; without being told, I knew Vaysh would be there.
"Yes, that would be smart." Iolethe reached out and held my bicep firmly, but in an unthreatening way. "Before Zain and I left our former clan, there were har already trying to create new life, solely among our own kind. It's only a matter of time before it happens here, too. Jaffa is alone in his upcoming bodily trial; the rest of you were older, as is common. I've at least seen somehar go through Feybraiha and know the signs."
My mind was reeling; I'd been stunned into a rare silence by the seeming preposterous statements Iolethe had so earnestly made.
"Har? Procreating?" My riotous imagination envisioned bloody rooms, bellies cut open and reptile-like monstrosities rending the air with hideous cries. "That's… unnatural," I settled on, though 'perverse' and 'horrifying' wanted to slip out instead.
Iolethe loosened his hand and instead pulled me close to him, his hand snugly at my waist. "You're an academic, or were," he said smoothly, taking a step in the direction I'd been heading to heed Vaysh's summons. I walked necessarily at his side, not minding the proximity. He, like Kyrgian, radiated a common sense and caring benevolence I gravitated to at that point in my early harhood.
"Surely you know that eventually humanity will succumb, and become as extinct as wooly mammoths. Inception has been the necessary way of our generation, but we're already evolving as a race."
"I know. It's mind-boggling," I said, jamming my hands into my pockets.
I was fond of Iolethe and his understated mannerisms; even in his few days with us, I'd noted that he had a unique ability to make anyhar around him feel useful and clever, though he rarely praised individuals outright. I didn't think Vaysh would think anything of us walking and talking, should we have our arms slung behind each other's backs, but we were so early in our courtship — he and I were nearly erupting with sexual tension after three days, but I was letting him set the pace and we'd not taken aruna yet, which was excruciating — I wanted him to be sure that I had no designs on anyhar else. No doubt I had every reason to eat my self-aggrandizing words I'd posited to Ondin about possession, and he'd gloat until he'd gorged on it.
My mind was still fixated on harish… pregnancy? Incubation? What the hell would it be? There were no Wraeththu anatomy books, no surgeons. I certainly wasn't going to volunteer as a wielder of a scalpel or as a subject.
"Have you seen?" I asked, my voice low and breathless. "I just can't fathom it."
As we approached the edge of our camp, we saw Vaysh sitting on his horse, Arches. Mine, a diligent mare named Willow, wandered nearby.
"In my mind's eye, I've seen," Iolethe answered with equally quiet reverence. "First things first, though. We'll get Jaffa through his Feybraiha. I think it'll happen before autumn is over, he just has that look about him. For now, enjoy your time with Vaysh. You're good for him."
I turned as he stepped away, glancing up at Vaysh who gave him a knowing, irritated glare. His affection for Iolethe and the others in his small group poured from him, though, an auralic energy that pulsed strongly enough to be felt, like enfolding, protective wings.
"You're meddling," he accused Iolethe before sitting up straight. He tossed back his hair, the mannerism evoking a horse shaking its mane. "I don't need your help, though your unnecessary approval is noted."
An excited crowd of fireflies seemed to have lodged in my belly as I went over and swung myself into Willow's saddle. I knew why there was such a muddling in my stomach, the unrest travelling down to my groin as I discreetly rubbed against the leather for a modicum of relief. Vaysh's eyes were guarded as he told Iolethe we'd be back later in the day. Once we'd ridden for a couple of minutes, however, he glanced at me. The unspoken message was blatant, his formerly tamed hunger now voracious.
To distract myself from the increasing discomfort of suffering an erection while riding, I asked Vaysh whether or not he'd known any har who had tried to generate life together, not through the ritual of inception.
"How on earth did you come to that topic?" he asked, disdainful curiosity reflected in his furrowed brow. "It's inevitable, of course, or as a species we'd not last much longer than our actual life span, which is in itself an unknown. Still. I was first born as a human male, so having a child of my own wasn't a possibility. Reborn as Wraeththu perhaps I can, if the right har comes along." The last part was said dryly and I snickered under my breath.
"Someone to make a respectable har out of you?" I joked, leering at him even as I spent precious seconds reining in my roaring libido. It wasn't the idea of my seed combining with Vaysh's to create an unspeakable, fantastical creature which ensnared me; it was joining with him at all, knowing him intimately from inside and out, his bewitching body, beguiling mind and mysterious soul.
We were riding into the woods, following a disguised trail to Belvac's hermitage. There he and I would take aruna, I simply knew it, just as I'd known where to find Vaysh. I'd never… inseminated? other har when taking aruna, and there were thankfully no har-children around to that effect. A sliver of my rational self tended some embers of fear that Vaysh and I could do such a thing, unwittingly, but a soothing calm from outside myself reassured me that if and when I created harling life, I would know. I had every belief that this, Vaysh's and my inaugural and — I dared to treasure the word — sacred joining would be burned into my memory forever.
"Respect like that doesn't interest me," Vaysh declared, rousing me from my musings. He arched an eyebrow and gave me a look so molten with lust I felt my ouana-lim strain against its confines.
"By the Aghama," I moaned, knowing full well he could tell how desperate I was to feel him, to share breath, to share absolutely everything.
"Oh, Ashmael, you're so transparent." False irritation threaded his voice. "I know you're dying to be naked together, after days of waiting. Not much longer now before we burn your companion's bed with the flames of our passion."
"Do you always talk like that about aruna?" I asked candidly. Never mind my own inner flowery thoughts, but I kept them to myself. Vaysh had arrived and without preamble or warning produced the key to my heart and let himself in. But that didn't mean I adored all of his mannerisms.
"Are you always so judgmental?" he shot back.
"No."
I bristled with righteous indignation as the rustic wooden structure came into view. Vaysh had a point, which explained my itchy discomfort with myself. Through all of this, my irrevocable change from human to har, from intended university student to necessary murderer, survivalist, and embarrassingly self-fascinated new creature, I'd never let anyhar truly into my being. I did judge, and everyhar, even Euclase, came up wanting. I did love Euclase, but we were like old pines, comfortable and familiar, planted side by side centuries ago.
We dismounted and let the horses wander nearby. I guessed that Vaysh had spoken to Belvac about this spot; like so much about Vaysh, the understanding simply flowed between us, wordless and certain. He stood before me on the top of the three stairs until I walked up to join him, paused on the threshold of the inevitable. My rancor had melted away; all I felt as I interlaced our fingers was a labyrinthine emptiness, that my soul was a hollow, chambered nautilus.
"Fill me," I whispered, bereft.
I began to drown, swept into his swirling currents of empathy. Then he closed his eyes and tenderly pushed his breath into my awaiting mouth. Vaysh shared pleasant memories from his childhood; images of his inception and banding together with his current clan danced into me. I gifted him with scenes of my own, including some wishful fantasies of the two of us whose time I hoped would yet blossom into being. There was a restless urgency pounding in my blood as our bodies rutted together. I pulled away, breathing heavily, my hands itching to feel every inch of his skin. A question I'd never thought to ask skipped onto my tongue.
"How do I taste?"
Vaysh's gaze was that of a starving man sitting down to a feast. He didn't answer for a time, unbuttoning my shirt, his fingers fumbling in their haste much like my racing, stuttering heartbeat.
"Ashmael," he breathed into the sensitive flesh of my ear, lust frissoning down my spine, "you taste of fire-warmed stone and twilight. Of home."
I could do nothing but worship him. We somehow managed to situate ourselves inside the hermitage and shed our clothes before I fell to my knees before him, drinking in the wonder of his ouana-lim, its pulsing vermilion and plum. I swallowed him down, working my throat to bring him the greatest pleasure I could. Easing back, my tongue darted around the opened petals, lapping and savouring the vinegarsweet of his phosphorescent essence. His curses and adulations rained on me until I was soaked in his praise.
I wanted to absorb him; I needed Vaysh to know every heated, grasping contour, every dark recess of my heart. He put a finger under my chin and tilted up my head. I released my prize, though his crimson stem continued to jut proudly from its thatch of golden curls.
"Bed, I think," he said hoarsely.
We tumbled onto it, rolling and pressing skin against skin, hands flying over muscle and bone like careening birds. I held my breath as I hovered above him, achingly empty, soume in its entirety. A flicker of fear ghosted across Vaysh's countenance; neediness seeped from my pores, and doubtless the scent to him was overwhelming. I sank down onto his ouana-lim, he the bolt, and I the latch until with a ragged sigh, we were locked together.
Aruna isn't always transformative or profound, but for we Wraeththu it has the potential to shatter and remake the universe. In my first years as har, for all of my experimentation, I hadn't yet learned much in the arts or finesse of taking aruna. That afternoon, however, as the scent of primeval pine and resin filled our humble bower, I had my first real taste of euphoric delirium. Vaysh clasped me down to him and rolled us over, my legs thrown around his waist, my ankles crossed so I could pull him ever deeper into me. Vaysh's frenzied rockings caused the rickety bed to slam repeatedly against the floor. Through sweat-stung eyes I consumed him, his open, panting mouth, the slightly crooked lower teeth that were so precious in an otherwise too-perfect visage. I was the sea; he was fey and bold. Valiantly he navigated through my roiling waters until at last his thin, whipping sail struck at dry land, deep within me.
Our release was the terrifying rush of a tsunami, and when it had passed we lay in a jumble of limbs, gasping and wide-eyed. Amid the flotsam of sheets and leather wrist bands that had slipped from their fastenings, we gazed at each other, survivors of our passionate shipwreck.
Instead of being exhausted, I was invigorated, yet all I wanted was to clean up a bit and rest together. Trust in my own limbs was suspect. Vaysh gently and carefully uncoupled us; I wasn't all that often soume and due to our athletic enthusiasm, I knew I would be a bit tender for a time.
"You are—" I started to say, but Vaysh placed a finger on my lips, effectively silencing my inadequate commentary.
He manoeuvred to lie on top of me, his lean form not quite as long as mine. My ouana-lim had slowly re-emerged to take its usual place of attention, so Vaysh was especially cautious as he covered me, pale and silent as snow blanketing a mountain. He spread his fingers into mine, burrowing his face against my neck, his lyrical chant only barely audible. At last I figured out that he was offering up a prayer of thanks, or of gratitude, though to whom I wasn't certain. After a few moments he slid to his side, spooning to my torso. That was how I dozed, the haunting hoot of an owl punctuating my hazy dreams.
* * * * *
"Get up! Ash! The camp!" Vaysh hissed, his eyes wide and terrible.
"What?!" I exclaimed, my nerves instantaneously on alert as well. Then I felt it, Belvac's call and, perhaps most startling of all, Jaffa's abject terror.
"They're under attack. Come on, come on!" he bellowed as we frantically dressed.
The horses had intuited our distress, and raced us home to our small cluster of buildings. The sight assaulted all of my sensibilities— depraved, brutal har battling with those of our clan, who with their own knives and fists were retaliating fiercely.
Uigenna. I've got to find Llembara, Vaysh's clipped voice sounded in my head.
"Vaysh!" I yelled, but he was gone and I fell into the fray.
I wish that had been the day I'd discovered my calling to command, but I was too young then, and everything I did was reaction, not guided action. I saw we were vastly outnumbered, though to my crazed and grateful evaluation, I saw nohar from my clan in my line of sight had been slain. I roared as I galloped past one of the scarred Uigenna, plunging the knife I'd taken from its holder at my waist into his back, ignoring the sickening sensation of the blade sliding though muscle and ribs to pierce his heart.
We fought bravely, but the Uigenna obviously had far more practise at intimidating and killing hara. Eventually I found myself snarling, standing at the front of a group of three of our tribe, slashing at our enemies. Behind me was Jaffa, now soaked in blood, his hand gripping his own knife he'd doubtless stolen from our kitchens. There was a gloating sneer on the har facing me, certain he and his ruthless cronies would murder us all, take our horses and God only knew what else. My blood turned to ice when one of them, a terrifying beauty aside from the gaping wound where his left ear once had been, spoke, his gaze fixated on Jaffa.
"Somehar is a fiery, pretty thing. I think we should take him, unspoiled."
There was a choking, terrified gurgle as Jaffa pressed up behind me.
"Over this har's dead body," I growled.
The macabre joy of his intent to kill me had just passed across the Uigenna's face when we were all cowed by an explosion. Our assailants looked confused for a moment, then horrified as dazzling tendrils of scarlet, corded light wrapped around their necks, disappearing into their bodies as they writhed in agony, falling to the ground.
I could only stare in shock, clawing at my own neck as I watched the three Uigenna die in front of me. They screamed in pain until he life had been choked from their bodies from this unrecognisable, malevolent and yet resplendent force. Regaining my wits, I kicked at them to make sure they were dead, yelling out in mind-touch to Vaysh and Euclase.
Are you okay? What the fuck was that?
Yes, and Oh God, Mael, come now. It's Monarch, ricocheted into my mind both at once, Vaysh's trembling, weary voice and Euclase, in a panic.
I turned around, my body still thrumming with adrenaline. Jaffa, Polaris and Wycker appeared relatively unharmed, albeit in a state of shock.
"I'll be back. The Uigenna are dead. I've got to get to the rest of our clan."
They nodded and Wycker's expression settled into disgust and fury as he looked at the bodies of the dead har on the ground.
"I'll take them out away from here and burn them," he spat.
I knew I needed to find Monarch and Euclase, but I spared precious seconds to pull Jaffa to me. He shuddered.
"I killed one," he said fiercely.
"He won't be the last," I said, realising then just how close we'd all come to being exterminated by these har. "Take care of yourself. I'll be back as soon as I can," I promised before sprinting away to the laundry where I sensed I'd find the one who'd called for me.
The scene I faced there was too terrible for my rational mind to contemplate, yet my body continued to go through the necessary motions as I collapsed by the body of our clan leader. He'd been sliced open from neck to hip, a festering wound oozing a hideous stench. I couldn't imagine what they'd put on the blade to cause this. His pallor was yellowish, the floor around him dark with pooling blood. Euclase's eyes begged for assistance, for relief and consolation. Kyrgian was chanting, his hands held above Monarch, incanting spells of healing and restoration.
"Ondin," I urged, and Euclase flew out the door to find him.
Crouching at Kyrgian's side, I, too put forth what powers I had to try and channel strength and regrowth from the earth. My concentration wasn't what it should have been and I cursed my rampant mind. Ondin ran in a few moments later, an audible gasp dying on his lips before he snapped to attention and fell into the role of surgeon. He readied a nearby pail with herbal water and cleansed the wound until at least the stink from it had been washed away. Kyrgian was in a trance, his lips never ceasing their intonations as Ondin sewed up the slashed flesh.
Vaysh and Llembara staggered in and I looked helplessly at them. Part of me felt dead. The rest wailed silent banshee cries at the world and the barbaric hara who had attacked us, bringing us to our knees, and for what? Surely it was bloodlust, nothing more. I loathed them with every fibre of being, shaking with wrath even as Vaysh sank down next to me, pulling me to his chest and rocking me as though I were a child.
"What did you do?" I asked once Monarch had been laid in a bed, still unconscious.
"Grissecon," he said quietly, his long fingers cradling my head. "We'd never tried anything that powerful before. Thank God it worked."
Mutely I nodded, unable to formulate a sentence. Vaysh was still at my side when Monarch died, on the cusp of a lilac dawn.
.:~ to be continued ~:.