Maelstrom and Mage, Ashmael/Vaysh, post 6
Feb. 12th, 2008 10:30 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thrihyrneYes, another post. I'm Vaysh and Ashmael's (and Firethorn, and well-meaning Euclase, and now Thiede's) captive!. Story continues from the fifh post, here. Also posted on the Forever pink boards for WsIP, where it continues to have the least number of hits of anything posted there. :sigh: I question my sanity.
Feedback and commentary welcome!
Title: Maelstrom and Mage, Desire Thine Darkling
Rating: not that adult
Warnings: slash, WIP, Thiede and Arahal's appearance
Word Count: 5,984
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: Genesis. Paradise. Illumination. Exodous. Before they went to Immanion, before Thiede manipulated their destiny, before death and despair, Ashmael and Vaysh knew and loved each other. This is one way their story may have been told.
That night, torches were set up along the rectangular sides of a grassy sward, an enclosure between two of the stone buildings in the middle of the grounds. At the base of the slope a covered walkway provided shelter, and in front of it perched a stone shelf and stairs, much like a small stage. Cloudblaze and Firestorm sat cross-legged on some cushions somehar thoughtfully had provided for them. The composed hara faced us, wondrous secrets dancing in their auras like fireflies. Firethorn had gone off, jealously escorted by Jaffa, Gladwyne and Parallax to explore the grounds. Jaffa, of course, had seen nothing so novel as a harling, and he appeared as though he would explode with excitement, Gladwyne in tow. Parallax feigned relative disinterest, but I knew him well enough to be sure that he, too, was bursting with questions. As were we— hence the informal Gathering with our new hara.
Kyrgian made a short speech filling us in as to their reaching out to him through the ethers and how they had been led here from lands far to the west. While these two hadn't pursued any particular caste ascensions, it was obvious to all of us that through their own, unique pursuits, they were enlightened nearly beyond us all, Kyrgian and Iolethe as exceptions. And perhaps Belvac. Mostly, however, the hara wanted to know what had occurred between these two to make it possible to create life as they had. An instantaneous plague of paternal fervour had swept through our group, leaving nearly none untouched. We had experienced peace on the mountain since the surprising arrival of Gladwyne and Parallax, but news had come through the year with the arrival of our other new inhabitants. Much of Megalithica was under the control of former Uigenna now known as Varrs; we seemed like an island, though if we could somehow bear harchildren, we could grow fairly rapidly in strength and number.
As Firestorm spoke, with Cloudblaze interjecting occasional thoughtful phrases and explanations, it became apparent that none of us had even begun to guess at particular powers to be found in aruna. There were some in Castlegar who had explored the potential of Grissecon, Vaysh included. But nohar had ever dared, so it seemed, to surrender so absolutely, to be led to another plane of being while in those ecstatic throes. There, apparently, the souls of potential life dwelled, awaiting an unspoken invitation to return to earth, nestled in a secret chamber inside the body. It seemed rather capricious to me, and required an intensity of devotion I personally doubted to exist between even our few who were chesnari with one another. And yet, many in our group nodded their heads, captivated by the thought.
"We think it is rare, and won't happen to everyhar," Cloudblaze said, his gentle voice carrying even to the back of the group where I sat, keeping watch out of ingrained habit. "I have meditated, asking the Aghama's will for us, if he would deign to share such knowledge. He seems not to wish for our race to scurry over the world in hordes like locusts, but he adores and cherishes new life. It is a paradox."
I couldn't help but imagine my harbretheren over the next few weeks, tired out at their daily tasks as roonfests reigned at night, and I sighed.
"It's novelty, and will wear off," Vaysh said to soothe me. He knew many of my thoughts seemingly before I even knew they were there.
"True. I'm glad we have Jaffa around, who can help Firethorn understand and cope with his Feybraiha. He may only be five years old, but I'd wager he'll be going through it far sooner than we expect. But Vaysh, the rest of our community…" I said, looking bleakly at him.
He smiled. "I know, Ash. You're commandant of a town, and you want it to stay that way, not turn into a nursery. I really don't think you need to worry much about it. Our hara are independent, and were content in pursuing their lives and ensuring we can serve as a haven for others as they find us. I'm not saying that I don't think some hara will become hostlings in time— doubtless, it will happen."
"Firethorn is captivating. It's not him, it's the process that's just so… strange," I muttered, milling around the outskirts of the group. By now the meeting had turned into an impromptu party, soon to take over the whole centre of the grounds.
"Of course it is," Vaysh stated, taking my arm and guiding us to find Vox and Polaris, always the first to bring wine or liquor to an event. "All of us here lived the first parts of our lives as human males. It seems freakish to imagine hosting a child. And then again, it doesn't at all."
"It's unnatural," I said, with emphasis.
"Only if you insist on holding on to those older patterns of thoughts. We can create life after all. I think it's terribly exciting," he enthused, but he addressed my worry before I could voice it. "And no, I'm not suggesting that you and I go straight to our bed to try and create a harish lovechild. If it's meant to be, we'll know. I'm sure of that."
Relief flooded through me and I pulled him close, sharing breath with him. I was filled with his rich velvet taste and gratitude for our life; I soared on the wings of his untamable affection, riding a dragon through uncharted skies.
"When you're quite through," Polaris drawled, mischief glittering in his eyes and waving a two-thirds full bottle of bourbon at Vaysh.
"Oh Polaris. You're absolutely divine," Vaysh said, turning away from me to mouth open kisses along the side of his face.
"Yes, yes," Polaris said, grinning. "Do go on. I have all night."
"Feel free to keep buttering him up," I said to Vaysh, squeezing his hand. "I should go and spend some more time with Cloudblaze and Firestorm, make sure they're settled, figure out what skills and talents they've brought with them."
"Ashmael. It's a party. Lighten up!" Vox said, having draped himself over Polaris' side and giving the bourbon bottle a mournful gaze. "Do you have to give that away?"
"No, dear," Polaris replied, tapping his chesnari lightly on the cheek. "We're sharing."
"It's not as though you'll ever go lacking for liquor," I said, resigned. "In fact, if some hara would spend half of the amount of energy on work that needs to be done as they do on their private distilleries, this place…" I didn't finish the sentence, because the truth was, our environment was in good shape. "Well, there's plenty around. If you get through that, surely you two can find more."
"Forget that," Vaysh said, looking imperiously at them, the pale skin of his exposed chest damp with sweat from the muggy air. "I know where all the good stuff is." He winked at me and I quirked a smile in return.
"Well, we already knew that," Vox said. He glanced coyly at me before they set to the very serious task of drinking copiously.
"Polaris!" I called after I'd walked a few steps into the celebratory throng. "Did you or Wycker give Jaffa and the others a curfew?"
"No, but once they catch wind of the festivities, I'm sure they'll turn up."
Reassured, I made my way through the clusters of revelers, finding a much-appreciated glass of chilled, tart wine in my hands after a few minutes. It took me some time to get to the new celebrities because I stopped to chat with several hara I'd not seen as often as I would have liked. I was gratified at how well the minimalist structure of our society worked; after only one year we had plenty of stores for the winter, we'd not had any brawls, there was almost equal rebuilding and dismantling to claim these lands as our own. I had a core group of defenders — it would have been an overstatement to call them soldiers — and our hara practised spiritual studies as well as their own artistic and creative pursuits.
For all of that peaceful and prideful thinking, the knowledge of disquiet to the north and the vast unknowns to the south, east and west sometimes kept me awake at night. Would we go to war with each other over land, or, heaven forbid, philosophical differences, replaying the human legacy which preceded us?
I was so caught up in my reverie that I almost passed Firestorm as he stood with Belvac and Abelard.
"Woah, Ashmael! Slow down!" Belvac joked, already well into his cups. "I can tell your mind is racing, probably caught up in details about the next scouting mission, or archery tournament. Something dreadfully serious."
I frowned at being belittled. "For your information," I said, helping myself to the wine he'd placed on a nearby waist-high stone wall, "I was thinking about how successful we've become. No fights, no deaths, everyhar clothed and fed, enough wine and liquor to satisfy at least two small armies!" I toasted him, inclining my glass as well to Abelard and Firestorm.
"We are grateful for your open arms of peace," Firestorm said, bowing his head slightly.
I did the same, before acknowledging Abelard's subtle movements to tug Belvac away so I could speak privately with the har.
"Do you have a shrine to our creator?" he asked.
I shook my head, as shame bloomed crimson in my chest. "Everyhar has his own ritual," I explained, though it sounded like an excuse.
"Do not debase yourself." Firestorm gestured at the base of the wall and we sat. He leaned against the blocks of sandstone; I sat across from him, struck by the irrational wish to please him. "Evidently it was not the time, before. But perhaps now it is."
With a fluid gesture, he drew out a pipe, tobacco and a small tinderbox. I patted down my vest pocket and discovered, thankfully, I'd put a pack of cigarettes there before dinner. We sat, smoking, until he began speaking again. He told me of his people, and how many had converted back to the old ways when the pervading culture spasmed, choking on its noxious self-hatred. With unflinching honesty, Firestorm told me of his nightly prayers to the gods of wind and death to carry him away, but instead they brought a small group of angels— or so it had seemed. A hoobuk from his tribe, Cloudblaze, had also been incepted, attaining the most natural state s/he could have. Then a sickness from some desperate humans who'd lived in the closest city infected his angels, and several died. The rest took good horses and headed west. Cloudblaze had stayed, and as though seeing his true self for the first time, Firestorm had bonded with him, giving heart, mind and body.
"Only a few months after our blood-binding ceremony, our bodies took their joy. Out under the stars one night, I felt a faint latch open. Suddenly we were swimming in fire, our souls shining together, the sun eaten by the blazing moon. It really was like that," he said, laughing at my bemused, cynical expression.
"You're a romantic," I said, pouring the last of the second bottle of wine we'd shared during his narrative.
"Guilty," he grinned, and I saw a couple of missing teeth in the bottom row of his mouth; his life hadn't been an easy one.
"A couple of months later, Blaze was in terrible pain, we were both scared out of our wits, thinking he might be dying. I tried to meditate and call for help from the spirits. In the end, he just yelled and cried and common sense took over. He birthed a luminous sac that hardened; we were both shocked, as you can imagine. Firethorn came out of his pearl several days later. Blaze didn't let go of it once it came out of his body. He kept it warm, murmuring how much we wanted him to break out so we could see him with our eyes, how precious he was. Now you see him, nearly six winters later. He is a blessing to us."
I lit a new cigarette, comforted and at peace, as though my spirit lay at the edge of a balmy pool, soft waves lapping tenderly at it.
"Your coming has changed us," I said. "Iolethe said knowledge of harish procreation would come to us. I could never have guessed it'd come and knock me on my ass! Metaphorically speaking." I only slurred some of my words.
"You have good instincts. Your aura is strong, like a restless mountain reaching for the sun."
"Do you think it's heresy to love?"
He blinked slowly. I held my breath, expecting wise words as written in the inky pools of his eyes.
"Things shift out of balance when you deny self. Not denying as in keeping things away, but pretending that self-truth is falsehood."
"That's a non-answer," I said eventually.
"Be true, Ashmael, and the true heresies will reveal themselves."
He stood and helped me up. I swayed slightly; Firestorm, too, was feeling the effects of the wine.
"I would like to give you something before I go and find my chesnari," he said before enfolding me in his arms, swift and supple; a bobcat protecting a cub. His breath was wind-stirred trees and sunset, a laughing, triumphant force that sought out my worries and shook them free.
Light-hearted, I drew back, my fingers tracing the beaded symbols sewn into the leather of his jerkin. "Thank you." The words were wholly inadequate.
We were called here. It is our son's destiny more than ours, and even that remains vague. We'll gift you with what we have.
I hope we can treat you with the respect you're due.
"Shelter, loyalty, strength of heart and arms. Laughter and storytelling, tears and bloodshed. I hope there's not as much of the last two, but all of these things are spokes in our wheel of life. We're all of us reborn, new children of earth."
Firestorm cradled my jaw in his hand; I was struck that he was slightly shorter than I was. His presence rose far taller and commanding than his actual frame. "Go and dance with your soulmate."
"Sound advice," I replied, feeling a need for the familiarity Vaysh would provide.
Firestorm headed back in the direction of the grassy, wide alley and I ventured to the heart of the laughing, talking, singing hara. When I found Vaysh, he immediately plucked the not quite empty liquor bottle from Vox's hands and levered unsteadily to his feet.
"Let's go out to the lake," he said, sliding provocatively next to me and draping his arm down to cup my arse.
"Whatever will you do out there?" Polaris hooted at us.
"Good God, you're all fucking smashed." I wasn't sober, to be sure, but I had some sense of decorum. Or thought I did. The Aralids exploded into fits of laughter, fumbling with each other's tunics and pawing at their exposed skin as we took our leave.
The cicadas droned their unceasing, nightly symphony, accompanying us as we walked along quiet paths. Millions of glistering stars flickered in the silken black as a milky swath stretched across the sky. Out on the shore of the small lake, to the chants of crickets and dazzling silence of space far above us, Vaysh and I made love. We danced ancient steps, slick with salty sweat. It wasn't a sharing of energies as aruna is; we gave each other body and emotions unbounded, a corporeal, grounding act of supplication.
Later, after a cleansing dip in the tepid waters, Vaysh sat in the vee of my legs, his back to my chest. "We should build a small shrine to the Aghama here," he said, running his long fingers up and down my calves.
"How strange," I murmured, kissing the back of his fiery hair before lying back on the ground, swallowed by the light of the radiant stars. "Firestorm asked if we had one earlier when he and I spoke."
"There are no coincidences," Vaysh said simply.
* * * * *
In late October I held a council with our self-appointed leaders, laying out my plan for five or six of us to go and investigate and map out the harish settlements to the north that were reasonably close.
"You want to go and spy?" Abelard asked, his skepticism apparent.
"Not spy, but venture out beyond our shorter scouting missions. We'd be gone for a couple of months, probably. See what's going on, how Megalithica is changing."
"You want to see how far Varrish territory goes, and evaluate their strength," Euclase said insightfully, coming to my defense.
"Yes. Most of our recent settlers have sought refuge from there. I'm keen to see the source of their troubles."
"But we're coming up on winter," Cloudblaze noted. "If you were going to go anywhere, why not head south?"
"I've sensed a powerful tribe far south of us," Kyrgian said, smoking a pipe, a new trait he'd picked up from our newest hara. "But they've not set their minds to conquest. Darker magic is their pursuit. If the Varrs are like the Uigenna, or part Uigenna, it's in our best interest to know where their strongholds are, who their leader is."
"It's a huge land, Ashmael," Mabast interjected. He was an independent Unneah who had been found half-starved the February before, rescued by Opequon and Ondin. "And there are plenty of scared, angry humans still around, wanting vengeance."
"I'm not suggesting that we travel without any destination in mind," I said, keeping my calm. "I'm just saying that the more we know about the state of things, harish and human, the better off we'll be here. We're building Castlegar from the ground up—"
"Metaphorically speaking," Abelard interrupted with an arched eyebrow.
"The life here, not the actual buildings, dammit," I snapped. "Surely we're not going to hide here and wait for any proverbial bombs to drop, right?"
"No, not at all," Mabast said quickly as he peeled an orange. The fruit was evidence of a successful experiment in a small tropical greenhouse Jaffa and Firethorn had undertaken as a project, fueled largely by Jaffa's uncontainable creative enterprise.
"I'll be the first to offer to go with you. It's just that 'north' is rather a vague term," he went on. He eased his chair back onto two legs, the delicate care in which he pulled the veiny strands from the orange slices in contrast to his imposing, muscled form. He reminded me a lot of Monarch, and I newly warmed to him.
"It is," I acquiesced. "For the next several days, I want to set up informal interviews of every har who's come here since spring to get a sense of the distances traveled, the state of the former human cities, places to avoid, and create a proper map. At least of how things are now. No doubt it's all in a restless state of change."
"I'd like to do the same, but from the west. Our travels. Another map," Cloudblaze finally clarified, since it took me a second to follow his train of thought.
"I'll ask our friends, Ahalenia and Eleu, to contribute their path from the far northeast. If we're only going for a couple of months we won't go nearly that far a distance, but forewarned is forearmed. So they say." Vaysh cocked his head at me and I nodded, grateful.
"The Colurastes aren't the most forthcoming, but you don't seem to offend them," I said, a tang of bitterness in the words.
Their attitude toward most of us was a distant tolerance, though they were quite friendly to Vaysh and Wyngarr; Vox and Polaris also appeared to be in their graces. The two sybaritic libertines positively fawned on Firethorn, now in danger of becoming doted on by the entire community. I'd found myself — to my discredit — praying that somehar else on the mountain would beget another harling just to take some of the focus off of him, though he bore up under the attention with an amused kindness that seemed beyond his nearly six years.
"Do you have your scouting party in mind? Do tell," Belvac said airily, tapping cigarette ash into a wooden bowl.
"Do you want to rip apart my reasoning now or later?" I fumed, the words dripping scorn.
"You shouldn't go," Euclase snickered, jabbing a thumb at Belvac. "You'll be too busy trying to do each other in. It would be distracting."
"We're still friends," I insisted through gritted teeth.
"So we can see." A ghost of a smile flitted across Cloudblaze's lips.
"Well, if my valued opinion were sought," Vaysh said primly, steepling his fingers on the parchments in front of him, "I'd suggest myself, Ashmael, Mabast, Euclase, and Firestorm. If we take a sixth, Parallax."
"He's still young!" Belvac barked.
"He's a born warrior," I countered.
"He's nearly ascended to Brynie." Belvac leaned aggressively over the table. "He's born to do more than fight, much like some others I know. Or thought I did." The reproach in his comment wasn't lost on me.
"When do you feel Parallax will be ready?" Kyrgian asked.
"In a few days, if he devoted himself to it fully," Belvac grumbled.
"I know him well, too," I reminded him. Belvac was now fidgeting with the braided copper armband Abelard had crafted for him. I was certain a flurry of conversation was flying privately between the two. "He and Gladwyne want to be treated as adults just like every other har. I think Vaysh's list is a sound one. Does anyhar have serious objections, or alternatives?"
A mottled silence hung in the air as I looked pointedly at Belvac. He gave a mirthless shrug; I'd won that round.
"Excellent." I glanced at Vaysh, sitting at my right, swirling the remains of some cold coffee in a tin. "Llembara's drawing skills are superb. I'd like for him to join me during the next few days to create the actual maps. Perhaps you, Cloudblaze, would like to assist me as well?"
"If that's where I'm needed."
"Kyrgian, I respectfully ask you to call a Gathering in five days. Those of us going on this mission will leave the day after that."
Why don't you ask Abelard and Belvac to stand in as Commandant and Archon? Vaysh sent the suggestion fast as quicksilver.
You're a genius, I marvelled. What would I do without you?
You wouldn't. His snark was unimpeded by his telepathic voice. I can think of all kinds of ways you can thank me…
Later, I thought, suppressing a smile.
"Abelard. Belvac." They turned, expectant, and surprised. "I'd like to ask you to serve in Vaysh's and my stead as Commandant and Archon while we're gone. Are you willing to take on those tasks as need be?"
"Sure," Belvac said.
"Yes. Most everyhar here looks out for each other, but we can step into those roles in your absence," Abelard replied with far more politesse.
Six days later we left Castlegar; a small entourage bid us safe travels and prayers of protection at the stone gates, mostly consorts and chesnari. The mountain itself appeared not in the mood to let us go easily, cloaking the realm in the impenetrable fog we'd come to expect in the year and few months we'd been residing here. Parallax had insisted that he be allowed to go, and it seemed that his determination had tempered Belvac's scorn for the whole endeavour.
We rode north for sixteen days, following our new harish maps. Euclase and Parallax became our group scribes, taking copious notes and modifying the maps when we passed ruined towns, and the very few human settlements still inhabited. We circuitously bypassed one, sensing their numbers; two nights later we were ambushed, but there were only a few of them, full of bloodlust and not nearly quick enough on their feet once we figured out what was happening. We burned their bodies the next morning. Firestorm and Vaysh both had well-honed abilities to seek and guard against harish mind-thought, but after a fortnight had come and gone and there hadn't been even a flicker of sentience, I began to wonder. Perhaps I was unwittingly leading us all into a trap, riding into territory that could be protected by Wraeththu who were superior to us in masking their presence.
It was with a cold shock of relief, then, when I heard both Vaysh and Firestorm gasp audibly, looking wildly for the other as we rode in pairs.
"What is it?" I asked, trotting Willow up from Mabast's side to match Arches' pace.
"Hara. Three, and two are dying of some human-caused disease. Firestorm thinks it may be what killed some of the hara who incepted him."
"What tribe are they?" Parallax asked, though we all suspected there could be only one answer, given what all our maps indicated.
"Varrs. But only just," Firestorm said cryptically.
With guidance, we urged our horses on. The afflicted hara weren't that far away; the one still immune had felt the brush of Vaysh's scan and screamed a plea for help. Not quite two hours later we found ourselves approaching a long-abandoned human barn, skulking at the edge of acres of dead cornfields.
"Are we sure this isn't some Varrish snare?" Mabast called to me, the first to believe the worst about all things Varr. In that regard, I was as close behind him as shadow.
"No, but it doesn't seem their style, luring us in instead of fighting outright," I yelled back, my words snatched away by the wind.
Tired of keeping their treasure, the leaden clouds overhead began to release their wintry offering; thick snowflakes fell as we pulled up to the decrepit structure. Sagging windows looked mournfully at us. An uncomfortable prickling crawled down my spine and I looked up, sensing that all of my companions were doing the same. Above the middle of the field, the clouds churned and darkened, as though a cauldron boiled behind it, readying to expel something far more malevolent than snow.
"What the fuck?" Vaysh swore, tugging his hood closer around his face, glancing wide-eyed at me. All I could do was briskly shake my head. The air was rent with the metallic crack of thunder and all of a sudden, a malapropos, tangy scent of ozone. With a triumphant, booming clap, a horse and rider burst out of the sky and pummelled the ground, slowing from a gallop to a canter, eventually to a brisk walk in their final approach to us.
Vaysh and Parallax had fallen to their knees as the har approached. Har? He was a god, a lurid, dark angel, a fire in corporeal form. He shone as though bathed in sunlight from an invisible source. Hair of flame streamed behind him, ice crystals falling from it and the luminous equine king's nostrils despite the relative cold of our reality. Power, knowledge— it pulsed and danced in him, radiating blue flame, igniting fear and awe, shattering my imagination, caressing tender wings across my thudding heart.
The falling snow muffled nature's ambient noises; I wondered if any of us were still breathing.
Dressed in an outlandish ermine coat, aubergine leather boots that laced up to his knees, pity and love were chiseled on this creature's features, ageless and young. He dismounted and walked forward with the deadly grace of a puma. When he smiled, I felt no reassurance, instead I drowned in wretched unworth.
"I am Thiede," he said, the answer to all questions.
I felt that my tongue had been wrenched from my mouth. A maelstrom of love and despair spun and floundered in my heart. This was a har. How could we even dream to reach the lofty heights he'd achieved?
"You all are doing tremendous things, truly splendid, my dears," he went on, sweeping over to Parallax and Vaysh. He placed fingers with long, talon-like nails under their chins, lifting up their faces to gaze on his munificent being. "Please get up," he said sweetly, and Vaysh and Parallax did so. "There's no need to worship me— I am one of you, after all."
His glance flickered over to me and with resolve pouring from I don't know where, I managed to stay standing, and held his gaze. An intrigued appreciation simmered in his eyes; I felt refined, purged. I had passed a test, and been deemed worthy. Thunder rolled in my heart.
"There are ill ones inside. I believe you know what must be done, but I'll assist you. Yes, you and you," he said, pointing his immaculate claws at Vaysh and Firestorm.
I tentatively reached out in mind-touch to Vaysh and saw him startle; he'd been wholly absorbed by the presence of this otherworldly har.
Ash! God! Grissecon. Come and shelter us. This is— oh, god, god, god… he babbled in a silent frenzy.
I calmed him as best I could, but the next while was a blur. Inside of the ramshackle barn, Thiede's radiance was all the more striking. He was all business, now, orchestrating events with the merest suggestion of thoughts. The poor hara inside had collapsed in fits of fear and relief, overwhelmed at being rescued from death. The one caring for the other two sat sobbing. Whatever inner dam of control he'd had was long broken as torrents of gratitude and the hopelessness he'd felt hours before came flooding out of him.
Thiede evaluated the wasted hara, clinging to each other, huddled under some moth-eaten horse blankets. He closed his eyes for a moment then looked again at me. "I'll need to take them to your mountaintop home faster than you can travel. I've just sent for someone. He'll arrive shortly."
Pockets of hushed conversations drifted; everything seemed to happen in slowed, honeyed time despite the innate urgency imprinted on everyone's face. Thiede stood behind me as I cast spells of warmth and sanctity while Firestorm and Vaysh composed themselves for this act. Thiede's aura seeped around me, guiding me with a tantalysing hint of just how much power germinated within me, having come nowhere near fruition. With wordless thoughts, fingers of electricity, he guided my incantations. Firestorm and Vaysh became an altar, a pyre— I lowered my hands and moved away, rejoining the rest of the small assembly. Thiede spoke conspiratorially to Parallax, who looked as though he were face to face with a ravenous lion.
Another har strode through the door, resplendent in an ebony pelt. His silver hair glistened with the same ice crystals and he carried the faint odour of ozone as Thiede had when he'd first come to land. Far less aetherial than Thiede but just as commanding, he pulled out an azure crystal phial and handed it to Thiede before taking a moment to assess our motley band. I sought his gaze and he arched an eyebrow at me. His fingers rested briefly on the silver chains and amulets resting on his chest as he nodded, acknowledging my greeting.
The walls now seemed to curve protectively around us, breathing with the slow chant Thiede had begun and into which, one by one, we'd added our voices. At the point of Vaysh and Firestorm's completion, a warmth and sparks of a thousand comets cascaded into the room. Parallax, with shaking hands, took the phial and a delicate, long-handled spoon from Thiede and went to the corner where Vaysh and Firestorm lay, returning to our circle a few moments later. Their fruits shone with amber phosphorescence, brightening the faces of all of us enraptured by the slow, fluid movement inside the glass. I saw Parallax's cheeks damp with tears, his expression beatific in its wonder.
I thought suddenly of Vaysh and his well-being and hurried to go and check up on them both. Vaysh's face was flushed with exertion and the glow of aruna; silently I thanked him and Firestorm, also breathing heavily. Once Vaysh had dressed I ran a thumb across his cheekbone, undone by his vivacious beauty, this loving firebrand, my heart's comrade in arms, my truest desire. The affection shining in his eyes bruised my soul.
We were being called to return to the circle, to watch and reach hands forth, radiating power as Thiede performed a series of chants and spells until he deemed the Grissecon offering ready.
"Arahal. I believe you brought wine?"
"I did."
The incongruity of such a casual statement after the potency of ritual was jarring, but the moment passed. Arahal, so this other har was apparently called, poured wine into two of our tin cups. Thiede, with a last dramatic swirl of the phial, poured half into each dented tin. I almost laughed.
Euclase took the cups to the sick hara, their grey skin appearing all the more lifeless compared to the vibrancy of we who'd been a part of this ceremony for healing. His role as high priest concluded, Thiede resumed his former aloof, but captivating demeanour.
"Arahal, you and I will each take one of these poor dears to— what do you call it? Castlegar?" he asked me, though the comment was no true question.
"You know a lot about us," I ventured. "Where did you come from?"
"All in time, Commandant, all in time," he said, the words sensuous and yet the thread of amusement never left his voice. "I'll come and visit you again, soon. Then I shall tell you of my plans and dreams, just beginning to take place in a land far from here. I've been waiting for a good moment to make my presence known, and this seemed as good a time as any. Arahal? Are you quite ready?"
Arahal threw his head back, his hair cascading down his back, a thick waterfall of mercury. He had the sickly hara tucked to his sides, an arm about each one. He seemed somewhat immune to the extravagance of this demiurge, and I respected the authority that emanated from him.
"Yes. It's a good thing we're not travelling far, though. I don't think they'd survive in the otherlanes for long."
Their compatriot who'd been their caretaker made an anguished noise at that statement. Euclase stepped over to comfort him.
"Don't you worry," Thiede said, smiling brightly, showing clearly his long teeth. With a jolt I was reminded that he wasn't remotely human. None of us were, of course, but the awe he inspired and the fact that he — and Arahal — had arrived from God knew where on horses that flew… I half-expected shining wings to pop from his shoulders and a flaming sword to appear in his manicured hands, like the angelic messengers in the church windows of my human boyhood.
With great pomp and a swirling of fur coats, they were gone, leaving the rest of us in a stunned, empty silence. Some of the residual energy still pulsed in the air, dissipating slowly like a shimmering rainbow as it fades into nothingness, making you wonder if it had ever really existed.
"Well," I said raggedly. "This wasn't exactly in the plan, but I think we should go home. Anyhar disagree?"
Silence continued to reign, so I nodded. "We'll stay here for the night, and then begin the return trek tomorrow."
"Do you really think they took them to your mountain?" the anxious barely-Varr asked, wringing his hands.
"It's all we can assume," Mabast replied, his thumb stroking the hilt of the gun nestled at his hip. "Where do you really think they came from?"
Without missing a beat, Vaysh gave him a look of rueful melancholy.
"Paradise."
Feedback and commentary welcome!
Title: Maelstrom and Mage, Desire Thine Darkling
Rating: not that adult
Warnings: slash, WIP, Thiede and Arahal's appearance
Word Count: 5,984
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: Genesis. Paradise. Illumination. Exodous. Before they went to Immanion, before Thiede manipulated their destiny, before death and despair, Ashmael and Vaysh knew and loved each other. This is one way their story may have been told.
That night, torches were set up along the rectangular sides of a grassy sward, an enclosure between two of the stone buildings in the middle of the grounds. At the base of the slope a covered walkway provided shelter, and in front of it perched a stone shelf and stairs, much like a small stage. Cloudblaze and Firestorm sat cross-legged on some cushions somehar thoughtfully had provided for them. The composed hara faced us, wondrous secrets dancing in their auras like fireflies. Firethorn had gone off, jealously escorted by Jaffa, Gladwyne and Parallax to explore the grounds. Jaffa, of course, had seen nothing so novel as a harling, and he appeared as though he would explode with excitement, Gladwyne in tow. Parallax feigned relative disinterest, but I knew him well enough to be sure that he, too, was bursting with questions. As were we— hence the informal Gathering with our new hara.
Kyrgian made a short speech filling us in as to their reaching out to him through the ethers and how they had been led here from lands far to the west. While these two hadn't pursued any particular caste ascensions, it was obvious to all of us that through their own, unique pursuits, they were enlightened nearly beyond us all, Kyrgian and Iolethe as exceptions. And perhaps Belvac. Mostly, however, the hara wanted to know what had occurred between these two to make it possible to create life as they had. An instantaneous plague of paternal fervour had swept through our group, leaving nearly none untouched. We had experienced peace on the mountain since the surprising arrival of Gladwyne and Parallax, but news had come through the year with the arrival of our other new inhabitants. Much of Megalithica was under the control of former Uigenna now known as Varrs; we seemed like an island, though if we could somehow bear harchildren, we could grow fairly rapidly in strength and number.
As Firestorm spoke, with Cloudblaze interjecting occasional thoughtful phrases and explanations, it became apparent that none of us had even begun to guess at particular powers to be found in aruna. There were some in Castlegar who had explored the potential of Grissecon, Vaysh included. But nohar had ever dared, so it seemed, to surrender so absolutely, to be led to another plane of being while in those ecstatic throes. There, apparently, the souls of potential life dwelled, awaiting an unspoken invitation to return to earth, nestled in a secret chamber inside the body. It seemed rather capricious to me, and required an intensity of devotion I personally doubted to exist between even our few who were chesnari with one another. And yet, many in our group nodded their heads, captivated by the thought.
"We think it is rare, and won't happen to everyhar," Cloudblaze said, his gentle voice carrying even to the back of the group where I sat, keeping watch out of ingrained habit. "I have meditated, asking the Aghama's will for us, if he would deign to share such knowledge. He seems not to wish for our race to scurry over the world in hordes like locusts, but he adores and cherishes new life. It is a paradox."
I couldn't help but imagine my harbretheren over the next few weeks, tired out at their daily tasks as roonfests reigned at night, and I sighed.
"It's novelty, and will wear off," Vaysh said to soothe me. He knew many of my thoughts seemingly before I even knew they were there.
"True. I'm glad we have Jaffa around, who can help Firethorn understand and cope with his Feybraiha. He may only be five years old, but I'd wager he'll be going through it far sooner than we expect. But Vaysh, the rest of our community…" I said, looking bleakly at him.
He smiled. "I know, Ash. You're commandant of a town, and you want it to stay that way, not turn into a nursery. I really don't think you need to worry much about it. Our hara are independent, and were content in pursuing their lives and ensuring we can serve as a haven for others as they find us. I'm not saying that I don't think some hara will become hostlings in time— doubtless, it will happen."
"Firethorn is captivating. It's not him, it's the process that's just so… strange," I muttered, milling around the outskirts of the group. By now the meeting had turned into an impromptu party, soon to take over the whole centre of the grounds.
"Of course it is," Vaysh stated, taking my arm and guiding us to find Vox and Polaris, always the first to bring wine or liquor to an event. "All of us here lived the first parts of our lives as human males. It seems freakish to imagine hosting a child. And then again, it doesn't at all."
"It's unnatural," I said, with emphasis.
"Only if you insist on holding on to those older patterns of thoughts. We can create life after all. I think it's terribly exciting," he enthused, but he addressed my worry before I could voice it. "And no, I'm not suggesting that you and I go straight to our bed to try and create a harish lovechild. If it's meant to be, we'll know. I'm sure of that."
Relief flooded through me and I pulled him close, sharing breath with him. I was filled with his rich velvet taste and gratitude for our life; I soared on the wings of his untamable affection, riding a dragon through uncharted skies.
"When you're quite through," Polaris drawled, mischief glittering in his eyes and waving a two-thirds full bottle of bourbon at Vaysh.
"Oh Polaris. You're absolutely divine," Vaysh said, turning away from me to mouth open kisses along the side of his face.
"Yes, yes," Polaris said, grinning. "Do go on. I have all night."
"Feel free to keep buttering him up," I said to Vaysh, squeezing his hand. "I should go and spend some more time with Cloudblaze and Firestorm, make sure they're settled, figure out what skills and talents they've brought with them."
"Ashmael. It's a party. Lighten up!" Vox said, having draped himself over Polaris' side and giving the bourbon bottle a mournful gaze. "Do you have to give that away?"
"No, dear," Polaris replied, tapping his chesnari lightly on the cheek. "We're sharing."
"It's not as though you'll ever go lacking for liquor," I said, resigned. "In fact, if some hara would spend half of the amount of energy on work that needs to be done as they do on their private distilleries, this place…" I didn't finish the sentence, because the truth was, our environment was in good shape. "Well, there's plenty around. If you get through that, surely you two can find more."
"Forget that," Vaysh said, looking imperiously at them, the pale skin of his exposed chest damp with sweat from the muggy air. "I know where all the good stuff is." He winked at me and I quirked a smile in return.
"Well, we already knew that," Vox said. He glanced coyly at me before they set to the very serious task of drinking copiously.
"Polaris!" I called after I'd walked a few steps into the celebratory throng. "Did you or Wycker give Jaffa and the others a curfew?"
"No, but once they catch wind of the festivities, I'm sure they'll turn up."
Reassured, I made my way through the clusters of revelers, finding a much-appreciated glass of chilled, tart wine in my hands after a few minutes. It took me some time to get to the new celebrities because I stopped to chat with several hara I'd not seen as often as I would have liked. I was gratified at how well the minimalist structure of our society worked; after only one year we had plenty of stores for the winter, we'd not had any brawls, there was almost equal rebuilding and dismantling to claim these lands as our own. I had a core group of defenders — it would have been an overstatement to call them soldiers — and our hara practised spiritual studies as well as their own artistic and creative pursuits.
For all of that peaceful and prideful thinking, the knowledge of disquiet to the north and the vast unknowns to the south, east and west sometimes kept me awake at night. Would we go to war with each other over land, or, heaven forbid, philosophical differences, replaying the human legacy which preceded us?
I was so caught up in my reverie that I almost passed Firestorm as he stood with Belvac and Abelard.
"Woah, Ashmael! Slow down!" Belvac joked, already well into his cups. "I can tell your mind is racing, probably caught up in details about the next scouting mission, or archery tournament. Something dreadfully serious."
I frowned at being belittled. "For your information," I said, helping myself to the wine he'd placed on a nearby waist-high stone wall, "I was thinking about how successful we've become. No fights, no deaths, everyhar clothed and fed, enough wine and liquor to satisfy at least two small armies!" I toasted him, inclining my glass as well to Abelard and Firestorm.
"We are grateful for your open arms of peace," Firestorm said, bowing his head slightly.
I did the same, before acknowledging Abelard's subtle movements to tug Belvac away so I could speak privately with the har.
"Do you have a shrine to our creator?" he asked.
I shook my head, as shame bloomed crimson in my chest. "Everyhar has his own ritual," I explained, though it sounded like an excuse.
"Do not debase yourself." Firestorm gestured at the base of the wall and we sat. He leaned against the blocks of sandstone; I sat across from him, struck by the irrational wish to please him. "Evidently it was not the time, before. But perhaps now it is."
With a fluid gesture, he drew out a pipe, tobacco and a small tinderbox. I patted down my vest pocket and discovered, thankfully, I'd put a pack of cigarettes there before dinner. We sat, smoking, until he began speaking again. He told me of his people, and how many had converted back to the old ways when the pervading culture spasmed, choking on its noxious self-hatred. With unflinching honesty, Firestorm told me of his nightly prayers to the gods of wind and death to carry him away, but instead they brought a small group of angels— or so it had seemed. A hoobuk from his tribe, Cloudblaze, had also been incepted, attaining the most natural state s/he could have. Then a sickness from some desperate humans who'd lived in the closest city infected his angels, and several died. The rest took good horses and headed west. Cloudblaze had stayed, and as though seeing his true self for the first time, Firestorm had bonded with him, giving heart, mind and body.
"Only a few months after our blood-binding ceremony, our bodies took their joy. Out under the stars one night, I felt a faint latch open. Suddenly we were swimming in fire, our souls shining together, the sun eaten by the blazing moon. It really was like that," he said, laughing at my bemused, cynical expression.
"You're a romantic," I said, pouring the last of the second bottle of wine we'd shared during his narrative.
"Guilty," he grinned, and I saw a couple of missing teeth in the bottom row of his mouth; his life hadn't been an easy one.
"A couple of months later, Blaze was in terrible pain, we were both scared out of our wits, thinking he might be dying. I tried to meditate and call for help from the spirits. In the end, he just yelled and cried and common sense took over. He birthed a luminous sac that hardened; we were both shocked, as you can imagine. Firethorn came out of his pearl several days later. Blaze didn't let go of it once it came out of his body. He kept it warm, murmuring how much we wanted him to break out so we could see him with our eyes, how precious he was. Now you see him, nearly six winters later. He is a blessing to us."
I lit a new cigarette, comforted and at peace, as though my spirit lay at the edge of a balmy pool, soft waves lapping tenderly at it.
"Your coming has changed us," I said. "Iolethe said knowledge of harish procreation would come to us. I could never have guessed it'd come and knock me on my ass! Metaphorically speaking." I only slurred some of my words.
"You have good instincts. Your aura is strong, like a restless mountain reaching for the sun."
"Do you think it's heresy to love?"
He blinked slowly. I held my breath, expecting wise words as written in the inky pools of his eyes.
"Things shift out of balance when you deny self. Not denying as in keeping things away, but pretending that self-truth is falsehood."
"That's a non-answer," I said eventually.
"Be true, Ashmael, and the true heresies will reveal themselves."
He stood and helped me up. I swayed slightly; Firestorm, too, was feeling the effects of the wine.
"I would like to give you something before I go and find my chesnari," he said before enfolding me in his arms, swift and supple; a bobcat protecting a cub. His breath was wind-stirred trees and sunset, a laughing, triumphant force that sought out my worries and shook them free.
Light-hearted, I drew back, my fingers tracing the beaded symbols sewn into the leather of his jerkin. "Thank you." The words were wholly inadequate.
We were called here. It is our son's destiny more than ours, and even that remains vague. We'll gift you with what we have.
I hope we can treat you with the respect you're due.
"Shelter, loyalty, strength of heart and arms. Laughter and storytelling, tears and bloodshed. I hope there's not as much of the last two, but all of these things are spokes in our wheel of life. We're all of us reborn, new children of earth."
Firestorm cradled my jaw in his hand; I was struck that he was slightly shorter than I was. His presence rose far taller and commanding than his actual frame. "Go and dance with your soulmate."
"Sound advice," I replied, feeling a need for the familiarity Vaysh would provide.
Firestorm headed back in the direction of the grassy, wide alley and I ventured to the heart of the laughing, talking, singing hara. When I found Vaysh, he immediately plucked the not quite empty liquor bottle from Vox's hands and levered unsteadily to his feet.
"Let's go out to the lake," he said, sliding provocatively next to me and draping his arm down to cup my arse.
"Whatever will you do out there?" Polaris hooted at us.
"Good God, you're all fucking smashed." I wasn't sober, to be sure, but I had some sense of decorum. Or thought I did. The Aralids exploded into fits of laughter, fumbling with each other's tunics and pawing at their exposed skin as we took our leave.
The cicadas droned their unceasing, nightly symphony, accompanying us as we walked along quiet paths. Millions of glistering stars flickered in the silken black as a milky swath stretched across the sky. Out on the shore of the small lake, to the chants of crickets and dazzling silence of space far above us, Vaysh and I made love. We danced ancient steps, slick with salty sweat. It wasn't a sharing of energies as aruna is; we gave each other body and emotions unbounded, a corporeal, grounding act of supplication.
Later, after a cleansing dip in the tepid waters, Vaysh sat in the vee of my legs, his back to my chest. "We should build a small shrine to the Aghama here," he said, running his long fingers up and down my calves.
"How strange," I murmured, kissing the back of his fiery hair before lying back on the ground, swallowed by the light of the radiant stars. "Firestorm asked if we had one earlier when he and I spoke."
"There are no coincidences," Vaysh said simply.
* * * * *
In late October I held a council with our self-appointed leaders, laying out my plan for five or six of us to go and investigate and map out the harish settlements to the north that were reasonably close.
"You want to go and spy?" Abelard asked, his skepticism apparent.
"Not spy, but venture out beyond our shorter scouting missions. We'd be gone for a couple of months, probably. See what's going on, how Megalithica is changing."
"You want to see how far Varrish territory goes, and evaluate their strength," Euclase said insightfully, coming to my defense.
"Yes. Most of our recent settlers have sought refuge from there. I'm keen to see the source of their troubles."
"But we're coming up on winter," Cloudblaze noted. "If you were going to go anywhere, why not head south?"
"I've sensed a powerful tribe far south of us," Kyrgian said, smoking a pipe, a new trait he'd picked up from our newest hara. "But they've not set their minds to conquest. Darker magic is their pursuit. If the Varrs are like the Uigenna, or part Uigenna, it's in our best interest to know where their strongholds are, who their leader is."
"It's a huge land, Ashmael," Mabast interjected. He was an independent Unneah who had been found half-starved the February before, rescued by Opequon and Ondin. "And there are plenty of scared, angry humans still around, wanting vengeance."
"I'm not suggesting that we travel without any destination in mind," I said, keeping my calm. "I'm just saying that the more we know about the state of things, harish and human, the better off we'll be here. We're building Castlegar from the ground up—"
"Metaphorically speaking," Abelard interrupted with an arched eyebrow.
"The life here, not the actual buildings, dammit," I snapped. "Surely we're not going to hide here and wait for any proverbial bombs to drop, right?"
"No, not at all," Mabast said quickly as he peeled an orange. The fruit was evidence of a successful experiment in a small tropical greenhouse Jaffa and Firethorn had undertaken as a project, fueled largely by Jaffa's uncontainable creative enterprise.
"I'll be the first to offer to go with you. It's just that 'north' is rather a vague term," he went on. He eased his chair back onto two legs, the delicate care in which he pulled the veiny strands from the orange slices in contrast to his imposing, muscled form. He reminded me a lot of Monarch, and I newly warmed to him.
"It is," I acquiesced. "For the next several days, I want to set up informal interviews of every har who's come here since spring to get a sense of the distances traveled, the state of the former human cities, places to avoid, and create a proper map. At least of how things are now. No doubt it's all in a restless state of change."
"I'd like to do the same, but from the west. Our travels. Another map," Cloudblaze finally clarified, since it took me a second to follow his train of thought.
"I'll ask our friends, Ahalenia and Eleu, to contribute their path from the far northeast. If we're only going for a couple of months we won't go nearly that far a distance, but forewarned is forearmed. So they say." Vaysh cocked his head at me and I nodded, grateful.
"The Colurastes aren't the most forthcoming, but you don't seem to offend them," I said, a tang of bitterness in the words.
Their attitude toward most of us was a distant tolerance, though they were quite friendly to Vaysh and Wyngarr; Vox and Polaris also appeared to be in their graces. The two sybaritic libertines positively fawned on Firethorn, now in danger of becoming doted on by the entire community. I'd found myself — to my discredit — praying that somehar else on the mountain would beget another harling just to take some of the focus off of him, though he bore up under the attention with an amused kindness that seemed beyond his nearly six years.
"Do you have your scouting party in mind? Do tell," Belvac said airily, tapping cigarette ash into a wooden bowl.
"Do you want to rip apart my reasoning now or later?" I fumed, the words dripping scorn.
"You shouldn't go," Euclase snickered, jabbing a thumb at Belvac. "You'll be too busy trying to do each other in. It would be distracting."
"We're still friends," I insisted through gritted teeth.
"So we can see." A ghost of a smile flitted across Cloudblaze's lips.
"Well, if my valued opinion were sought," Vaysh said primly, steepling his fingers on the parchments in front of him, "I'd suggest myself, Ashmael, Mabast, Euclase, and Firestorm. If we take a sixth, Parallax."
"He's still young!" Belvac barked.
"He's a born warrior," I countered.
"He's nearly ascended to Brynie." Belvac leaned aggressively over the table. "He's born to do more than fight, much like some others I know. Or thought I did." The reproach in his comment wasn't lost on me.
"When do you feel Parallax will be ready?" Kyrgian asked.
"In a few days, if he devoted himself to it fully," Belvac grumbled.
"I know him well, too," I reminded him. Belvac was now fidgeting with the braided copper armband Abelard had crafted for him. I was certain a flurry of conversation was flying privately between the two. "He and Gladwyne want to be treated as adults just like every other har. I think Vaysh's list is a sound one. Does anyhar have serious objections, or alternatives?"
A mottled silence hung in the air as I looked pointedly at Belvac. He gave a mirthless shrug; I'd won that round.
"Excellent." I glanced at Vaysh, sitting at my right, swirling the remains of some cold coffee in a tin. "Llembara's drawing skills are superb. I'd like for him to join me during the next few days to create the actual maps. Perhaps you, Cloudblaze, would like to assist me as well?"
"If that's where I'm needed."
"Kyrgian, I respectfully ask you to call a Gathering in five days. Those of us going on this mission will leave the day after that."
Why don't you ask Abelard and Belvac to stand in as Commandant and Archon? Vaysh sent the suggestion fast as quicksilver.
You're a genius, I marvelled. What would I do without you?
You wouldn't. His snark was unimpeded by his telepathic voice. I can think of all kinds of ways you can thank me…
Later, I thought, suppressing a smile.
"Abelard. Belvac." They turned, expectant, and surprised. "I'd like to ask you to serve in Vaysh's and my stead as Commandant and Archon while we're gone. Are you willing to take on those tasks as need be?"
"Sure," Belvac said.
"Yes. Most everyhar here looks out for each other, but we can step into those roles in your absence," Abelard replied with far more politesse.
Six days later we left Castlegar; a small entourage bid us safe travels and prayers of protection at the stone gates, mostly consorts and chesnari. The mountain itself appeared not in the mood to let us go easily, cloaking the realm in the impenetrable fog we'd come to expect in the year and few months we'd been residing here. Parallax had insisted that he be allowed to go, and it seemed that his determination had tempered Belvac's scorn for the whole endeavour.
We rode north for sixteen days, following our new harish maps. Euclase and Parallax became our group scribes, taking copious notes and modifying the maps when we passed ruined towns, and the very few human settlements still inhabited. We circuitously bypassed one, sensing their numbers; two nights later we were ambushed, but there were only a few of them, full of bloodlust and not nearly quick enough on their feet once we figured out what was happening. We burned their bodies the next morning. Firestorm and Vaysh both had well-honed abilities to seek and guard against harish mind-thought, but after a fortnight had come and gone and there hadn't been even a flicker of sentience, I began to wonder. Perhaps I was unwittingly leading us all into a trap, riding into territory that could be protected by Wraeththu who were superior to us in masking their presence.
It was with a cold shock of relief, then, when I heard both Vaysh and Firestorm gasp audibly, looking wildly for the other as we rode in pairs.
"What is it?" I asked, trotting Willow up from Mabast's side to match Arches' pace.
"Hara. Three, and two are dying of some human-caused disease. Firestorm thinks it may be what killed some of the hara who incepted him."
"What tribe are they?" Parallax asked, though we all suspected there could be only one answer, given what all our maps indicated.
"Varrs. But only just," Firestorm said cryptically.
With guidance, we urged our horses on. The afflicted hara weren't that far away; the one still immune had felt the brush of Vaysh's scan and screamed a plea for help. Not quite two hours later we found ourselves approaching a long-abandoned human barn, skulking at the edge of acres of dead cornfields.
"Are we sure this isn't some Varrish snare?" Mabast called to me, the first to believe the worst about all things Varr. In that regard, I was as close behind him as shadow.
"No, but it doesn't seem their style, luring us in instead of fighting outright," I yelled back, my words snatched away by the wind.
Tired of keeping their treasure, the leaden clouds overhead began to release their wintry offering; thick snowflakes fell as we pulled up to the decrepit structure. Sagging windows looked mournfully at us. An uncomfortable prickling crawled down my spine and I looked up, sensing that all of my companions were doing the same. Above the middle of the field, the clouds churned and darkened, as though a cauldron boiled behind it, readying to expel something far more malevolent than snow.
"What the fuck?" Vaysh swore, tugging his hood closer around his face, glancing wide-eyed at me. All I could do was briskly shake my head. The air was rent with the metallic crack of thunder and all of a sudden, a malapropos, tangy scent of ozone. With a triumphant, booming clap, a horse and rider burst out of the sky and pummelled the ground, slowing from a gallop to a canter, eventually to a brisk walk in their final approach to us.
Vaysh and Parallax had fallen to their knees as the har approached. Har? He was a god, a lurid, dark angel, a fire in corporeal form. He shone as though bathed in sunlight from an invisible source. Hair of flame streamed behind him, ice crystals falling from it and the luminous equine king's nostrils despite the relative cold of our reality. Power, knowledge— it pulsed and danced in him, radiating blue flame, igniting fear and awe, shattering my imagination, caressing tender wings across my thudding heart.
The falling snow muffled nature's ambient noises; I wondered if any of us were still breathing.
Dressed in an outlandish ermine coat, aubergine leather boots that laced up to his knees, pity and love were chiseled on this creature's features, ageless and young. He dismounted and walked forward with the deadly grace of a puma. When he smiled, I felt no reassurance, instead I drowned in wretched unworth.
"I am Thiede," he said, the answer to all questions.
I felt that my tongue had been wrenched from my mouth. A maelstrom of love and despair spun and floundered in my heart. This was a har. How could we even dream to reach the lofty heights he'd achieved?
"You all are doing tremendous things, truly splendid, my dears," he went on, sweeping over to Parallax and Vaysh. He placed fingers with long, talon-like nails under their chins, lifting up their faces to gaze on his munificent being. "Please get up," he said sweetly, and Vaysh and Parallax did so. "There's no need to worship me— I am one of you, after all."
His glance flickered over to me and with resolve pouring from I don't know where, I managed to stay standing, and held his gaze. An intrigued appreciation simmered in his eyes; I felt refined, purged. I had passed a test, and been deemed worthy. Thunder rolled in my heart.
"There are ill ones inside. I believe you know what must be done, but I'll assist you. Yes, you and you," he said, pointing his immaculate claws at Vaysh and Firestorm.
I tentatively reached out in mind-touch to Vaysh and saw him startle; he'd been wholly absorbed by the presence of this otherworldly har.
Ash! God! Grissecon. Come and shelter us. This is— oh, god, god, god… he babbled in a silent frenzy.
I calmed him as best I could, but the next while was a blur. Inside of the ramshackle barn, Thiede's radiance was all the more striking. He was all business, now, orchestrating events with the merest suggestion of thoughts. The poor hara inside had collapsed in fits of fear and relief, overwhelmed at being rescued from death. The one caring for the other two sat sobbing. Whatever inner dam of control he'd had was long broken as torrents of gratitude and the hopelessness he'd felt hours before came flooding out of him.
Thiede evaluated the wasted hara, clinging to each other, huddled under some moth-eaten horse blankets. He closed his eyes for a moment then looked again at me. "I'll need to take them to your mountaintop home faster than you can travel. I've just sent for someone. He'll arrive shortly."
Pockets of hushed conversations drifted; everything seemed to happen in slowed, honeyed time despite the innate urgency imprinted on everyone's face. Thiede stood behind me as I cast spells of warmth and sanctity while Firestorm and Vaysh composed themselves for this act. Thiede's aura seeped around me, guiding me with a tantalysing hint of just how much power germinated within me, having come nowhere near fruition. With wordless thoughts, fingers of electricity, he guided my incantations. Firestorm and Vaysh became an altar, a pyre— I lowered my hands and moved away, rejoining the rest of the small assembly. Thiede spoke conspiratorially to Parallax, who looked as though he were face to face with a ravenous lion.
Another har strode through the door, resplendent in an ebony pelt. His silver hair glistened with the same ice crystals and he carried the faint odour of ozone as Thiede had when he'd first come to land. Far less aetherial than Thiede but just as commanding, he pulled out an azure crystal phial and handed it to Thiede before taking a moment to assess our motley band. I sought his gaze and he arched an eyebrow at me. His fingers rested briefly on the silver chains and amulets resting on his chest as he nodded, acknowledging my greeting.
The walls now seemed to curve protectively around us, breathing with the slow chant Thiede had begun and into which, one by one, we'd added our voices. At the point of Vaysh and Firestorm's completion, a warmth and sparks of a thousand comets cascaded into the room. Parallax, with shaking hands, took the phial and a delicate, long-handled spoon from Thiede and went to the corner where Vaysh and Firestorm lay, returning to our circle a few moments later. Their fruits shone with amber phosphorescence, brightening the faces of all of us enraptured by the slow, fluid movement inside the glass. I saw Parallax's cheeks damp with tears, his expression beatific in its wonder.
I thought suddenly of Vaysh and his well-being and hurried to go and check up on them both. Vaysh's face was flushed with exertion and the glow of aruna; silently I thanked him and Firestorm, also breathing heavily. Once Vaysh had dressed I ran a thumb across his cheekbone, undone by his vivacious beauty, this loving firebrand, my heart's comrade in arms, my truest desire. The affection shining in his eyes bruised my soul.
We were being called to return to the circle, to watch and reach hands forth, radiating power as Thiede performed a series of chants and spells until he deemed the Grissecon offering ready.
"Arahal. I believe you brought wine?"
"I did."
The incongruity of such a casual statement after the potency of ritual was jarring, but the moment passed. Arahal, so this other har was apparently called, poured wine into two of our tin cups. Thiede, with a last dramatic swirl of the phial, poured half into each dented tin. I almost laughed.
Euclase took the cups to the sick hara, their grey skin appearing all the more lifeless compared to the vibrancy of we who'd been a part of this ceremony for healing. His role as high priest concluded, Thiede resumed his former aloof, but captivating demeanour.
"Arahal, you and I will each take one of these poor dears to— what do you call it? Castlegar?" he asked me, though the comment was no true question.
"You know a lot about us," I ventured. "Where did you come from?"
"All in time, Commandant, all in time," he said, the words sensuous and yet the thread of amusement never left his voice. "I'll come and visit you again, soon. Then I shall tell you of my plans and dreams, just beginning to take place in a land far from here. I've been waiting for a good moment to make my presence known, and this seemed as good a time as any. Arahal? Are you quite ready?"
Arahal threw his head back, his hair cascading down his back, a thick waterfall of mercury. He had the sickly hara tucked to his sides, an arm about each one. He seemed somewhat immune to the extravagance of this demiurge, and I respected the authority that emanated from him.
"Yes. It's a good thing we're not travelling far, though. I don't think they'd survive in the otherlanes for long."
Their compatriot who'd been their caretaker made an anguished noise at that statement. Euclase stepped over to comfort him.
"Don't you worry," Thiede said, smiling brightly, showing clearly his long teeth. With a jolt I was reminded that he wasn't remotely human. None of us were, of course, but the awe he inspired and the fact that he — and Arahal — had arrived from God knew where on horses that flew… I half-expected shining wings to pop from his shoulders and a flaming sword to appear in his manicured hands, like the angelic messengers in the church windows of my human boyhood.
With great pomp and a swirling of fur coats, they were gone, leaving the rest of us in a stunned, empty silence. Some of the residual energy still pulsed in the air, dissipating slowly like a shimmering rainbow as it fades into nothingness, making you wonder if it had ever really existed.
"Well," I said raggedly. "This wasn't exactly in the plan, but I think we should go home. Anyhar disagree?"
Silence continued to reign, so I nodded. "We'll stay here for the night, and then begin the return trek tomorrow."
"Do you really think they took them to your mountain?" the anxious barely-Varr asked, wringing his hands.
"It's all we can assume," Mabast replied, his thumb stroking the hilt of the gun nestled at his hip. "Where do you really think they came from?"
Without missing a beat, Vaysh gave him a look of rueful melancholy.
"Paradise."
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(no subject)
Date: 2008-02-12 08:09 pm (UTC)"There's no need to worship me... "
LOL, yeah, right...
Nice to see Arahal putting in an appearance too. And poor Vaysh - I can just smell his disillusionment coming....
btw, don't worry about the Pinkboard thingie - it's been more or less abandoned for years. I think everyone's forgotten it's even there.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-02-13 12:02 am (UTC)Your influence, m'dear! He piqued my interest more after a couple of the comments you'd made. And OMG, poor Vaysh... it's going to be beyond horrific once the POV switches over to him.
I didn't know about the pinkboard thing. I did note that there are a couple of other newer entries but posted by people better known in the fandom, with over 200 hits. So some people know about it, lol! I'm totally, totally totally too late to this. Oh well. At least I got to meet you! :D I've just found myself rereading your fics because I need a Wraeththu fix, and yours is of a quality I prefer. ;) I'm so used to having boundless amounts of fic to read. I need to change my attitude and expectations, obviously!
(no subject)
Date: 2008-02-13 12:35 am (UTC)Those are actually stories from a couple of years ago, and have been bumped up to the top by a recent new comment! (so you're right - there is at least one person reading it! :-)
(no subject)
Date: 2008-02-13 01:25 am (UTC)Anyone of Thev's friends reading this comment who hasn't yet read this story - get on with it!!! If you like Thev's HP slash then you will love this and so what if there's no Wingardium Leviosa!! Seriously, it's well cool...
(no subject)
Date: 2008-02-13 02:45 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-02-13 02:15 am (UTC)And with me you have at least one reader lol^^
As it seems even more...And I would love to read more.
Sounds like Thiede to do that , that way, lol.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-02-13 02:47 pm (UTC)I'm so pleased you're enjoying it; I'm having a really grand time, though we're getting closer and closer to some intensely angsty time. But I knew that was coming; bound to happen, if you're writing about Vaysh and Ashmael. Glad that you felt Thiede was in character! He's a bit intimidating.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-02-13 03:24 pm (UTC)That guy is impossible! And a hopeless cause... In my last pic I had the problem to get him right as a teenager and still to let him look somewhat other worldly...you have the same problem with him in writing now I think. But you do a marvelous job from what I know^^ so please keep it up to write, ok^_^
(no subject)
Date: 2008-02-14 12:34 pm (UTC)Poor Vaysh & Ash, it's been lovley to see them so whole and in love. Especially Vaysh, we only ever see him so broken and lost. Can really see what Thiede saw in him though.
Damn that omnipotant being for spoiling it all!!
(no subject)
Date: 2008-03-16 07:14 am (UTC)I like all the elements you are bringing together - the fascination with har reproduction, that wonderful appearance of Thiede, grissecon.
You really did Thiede justice I thought:
"Har? He was a god, a lurid, dark angel, a fire in corporeal form. He shone as though bathed in sunlight from an invisible source. Hair of flame streamed behind him, ice crystals falling from it and the luminous equine king's nostrils despite the relative cold of our reality. Power, knowledge— it pulsed and danced in him, radiating blue flame, igniting fear and awe, shattering my imagination, caressing tender wings across my thudding heart."
"I am Thiede," he said, the answer to all questions."
Yeah that's him. Completely. Also liked appearance of Arahal. I like that Ash is sort of bowled over by him. I wonder how it was determined that Vaysh and Firestorm would perform the grissecon. Was it because their cast level was higher?
Okay, more stuff I singled out for particular luv:
wondrous secrets dancing in their auras like fireflies.
An instantaneous plague of paternal fervour had swept through our group, leaving nearly none untouched.
couple of missing teeth in the bottom row of his mouth; his life hadn't been an easy one.
Go and dance with your soulmate."
the delicate care in which he pulled the veiny strands from the orange slices in contrast to his imposing, muscled form.
was certain a flurry of conversation was flying privately between the two.
a thick waterfall of mercury.
immaculate claws
His silver hair glistened with the same ice crystals and he carried the faint odour of ozone
I half-expected shining wings to pop from his shoulders and a flaming sword to appear in his manicured hands, like the angelic messengers in the church windows of my human boyhood.
canon question: Were the Varrs derived from Uigenna? Does Storm anywhere give a genealogy (a begats so to speak) of what tribe developed from whom and about when? I don't remember one.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-03-16 05:50 pm (UTC)Canon-wise, Storm doesn't say specifically that the Varrs are from the Uigenna, but seeing as how the Uigenna are the most warlike, and the Varrs as well, I figured there was likely some descendency there, or at least vague relation. And per your pre-edited post, to my mind, neither Vaysh nor Ash's groups came from particular tribes. In my heart of hearts, I figure it makes sense that not all groups came up with names until later, which I actually bring up in the last post for M + M. The folks in Saltrock, for instance, aren't given a tribal name until much later. But I figure my folks are closer to Unneah than anything else, but don't say so in particular, especially since Mabast is Unneah for certain.
You're spoiling me beyond belief! ♥
(no subject)
Date: 2008-03-16 11:56 pm (UTC)