Ghosts of Blood And Innocence

Chapter One Darquiel's pearl hatched on the eve of midsummer when, outside Phade's Tower, clouds of mosquitoes hung above the pools in the courtyard, so thirsty they would drink water rather than blood. It hatched in that strange hour when neither light nor dark holds sway, and hara walked home through the balmy air, drunk on the perfume of wild roses, thinking of love. But high in the tower room, where it had long been twilight, there were no thoughts of love. The walls to the room were white, and they glowed in the dusk. The narrow window frames were painted black, devoid of drapes or blinds, and the floorboards were bare and unvarnished. It was a room that was never used, not until now. The pearl rested in a nest of woolen blankets, surrounded by lamps, on an old wooden table. In the soft glow the pearl gleamed, semitranslucent. Limbs writhed slowly within it, pressing against the decomposing membrane. Eventually, the pearl ripped and a meaty sweet smell came from it. For some moments after the leathery sac fell apart, the lone har who observed the event feared the harling within the pearl was dead, for there was no further movement for over a minute. Then Darquiel's head emerged, his brow creased in a frown. He pulled aside the scraps of leather that had once enfolded him and wriggled forth from his bower of nutrient slime. His head waved this way and that, like the head of a cobra. His black eyes surveyed all that he saw before him with what appeared to be a critical view. He expressed a sigh of ennui. Life had come. He did not, nor ever would, resemble a normal child. While nighthawks hovered outside the window, and dogs in the courtyard pulled upon their chains and wept at the night, Phade har Olopade, sole witness, lifted the newly hatched harling in his hands and held him at arm's length. Its body was covered with viscous fluid and the smell of the nutrients that had nurtured it within the pearl stung Phade's nostrils. He half expected the harling to spray him with black venom or utter a curse. Surely his tongue would be forked? "I name you Darquiel har Aralis," Phade said and the child went limp in his hands. The second heir to the throne of Immanion had gone to sleep, exhausted by the thought of what was to come. Nohar had come to witness the hatching, except for Phade, and he had had no choice, because the pearl had been transferred into his care. There was an air of desolation in that stark chamber, high in the main tower of Phade's domain. He had not asked for this responsibility and did not welcome it. If a harling of high birth had to be hidden away in this forgotten corner of the world, it could not bode well. The harling must be reared ignorant of his parentage. Phade must attempt to raise him as an ordinary child, but it was clear, from the very first breath that he took, that Darquiel har Aralis was far from ordinary. Ten days before, a sedu had emerged from the otherlanes, bearing a tall, aquiline-featured har, whose hair was the color of bright platinum and who was swathed in black. The visitor had been presented to Phade in his office on the second floor of the tower, which overlooked the yard. It had been a blustery day. Phade had been called from the stables and knew he smelled of horse. He tied back his thick black hair to appear more businesslike, then sat behind his desk. Somehar knocked on the door and Phade called, "Come in." He folded his hands before him. One of his house-hara came into the room and bowed. Behind him, the white-haired visitor loomed in an imposing manner. Phade cleared his throat. He wondered what kind of business such an exotic creature could have with him. "Your visitor, tiahaar," the house-harConstantine, Storm is the author of 'Ghosts of Blood And Innocence ', published 2006 under ISBN 9780765303486 and ISBN 0765303485.