The Wraiths of Will and Pleasure - By Storm Constantine Page 0,186

a cynical tone.

‘Hurry,’ Tel-an-Kaa said. ‘Get into the boat. I’m picking up impressions of two distinct Gelaming groups. They are passing in and out of this reality continually. They will find us very soon if we don’t leave here.’

Zackala helped them aboard. It was difficult to see what he looked like, because a black scarf hid his head and most of his face. His garments too were black and he did not speak. As soon as they were safely seated, he untied the boat and began rowing powerfully out to sea. Flick kept his eyes fixed on the shore. It was happening so quickly, it was surreal. Only minutes ago, they’d been part of a larger company and now everything had changed. He felt dizzy with it.

Lileem was sitting beside him. Now, she leaned close and murmured, ‘Look at the cliff top, to the right of the town.’

A shudder went through him, but he did what she said. He saw a lone white horse up there, standing so still it could have been carved from marble. A figure was mounted upon it, swathed in a pale hooded cloak that flapped in the wind. Flick felt as if the eyes concealed by the hood could see every detail of the passengers in the boat. The horse might take off at any moment and gallop a road of light across the sea to them. He was filled with an emotion he could not name, but which made him want to both laugh and cry hysterically.

‘The others can’t see it,’ Lileem whispered. ‘I think the image is for you.’

‘Why?’ Flick hissed.

‘Don’t tell Mima,’ Lileem said. ‘She must never know. That is her brother Pellaz.’

In those days, but for hara like the Gelaming, most Wraeththu had recourse only to primitive methods of transport. Natural reserves of fuel might remain deep within the earth, but few tribes were yet organised enough to mine them. Powerful hara closely guarded remaining stocks. Much of the sophistication of earlier human culture had disappeared. In the beginning, Wraeththu were little more than children, fierce and primitive barbarians, who were so fuelled with blood lust to destroy the old order they didn’t for one minute think about how they would live once the fighting was over, when there was no one left to fight but other hara. Many skills had been lost or had to be relearned. What did education matter when your only thought was to run wild through the night, celebrating, or perhaps trying to forget, the impossible excesses of your new being?

Therefore, among many other difficulties, crossing the great ocean that Wraeththu called the Girdle of Tiamat was a lengthy, if not hazardous, undertaking. Once, humans had flown over it in silver birds in a matter of hours, or great engine-powered ships had cleaved its fretful waters in days, but now the best vessels were modelled on ancient sailing ships from the past and the journey could take weeks. It was fortunate that once hara began to grow up, the best among them discovered they were resourceful, creative and worked well with their hands. Eventually, they would go on to create machines and vessels far superior to anything humanity had invented, because they could pluck the very stuff of the universe from the source and shape it to their dreams, such as Thiede had done with his sedim. But most hara were still working their way up, experimenting with designs and mastering their crafts, and a reliable and efficient alternative power source lay some distance into the future.

The ship, ‘Night’s Arrow’, was of Roselane design, and its crew were harish. Shamans among them were adept in affecting the weather, singing to the sea to quiet its tempers and calling up the winds to speed the journey. This was the harish equivalent of powerful engines and navigation systems. It seemed strange that the Roselane had developed the skill of shipwrighting, seeing as their territory was land-locked, but they had a strong presence in the domain of the Emunah, which extended widely around the Sea of Shadows and the smaller Sea of Arel that was connected to it.

Tel-an-Kaa explained to her companions that they must cross the Girdle, heading northeast, skirting round the eastern continent. There was a quicker way to Jaddayoth, which would mean going southeast past the vast temperate country of Almagabra, passing right through Gelaming waters, which the Zigane didn’t think was advisable. So, once they had made landfall on the eastern continent, a long and