by Katy Winter
"I salute you, Nikos," he said very softly. "You have my gratitude for what you've become to this child. Few could comprehend such."
Sarehl noticed the aura of power that encompassed Nikos as the man walked forward to the mage and extended his hand in respectful greeting. His palm briefly met Bene's. Sarehl saw what he thought was an odd momentary fusion that he found unbelievable, then Nikos took Chlorien in his arms so she faced him.
"It was written, Archmage. I waited long, long cycles for her and finally she came. She's my only mate."
Sarehl saw comprehension then profoundest sorrow and despair come to the mage's eyes before his greatsire walked away a little distance. While Nikos held Chlorien singularly tightly and protectively, both Daxel and Sarehl noticed how part of their sister melted into and became almost a part of her mate. It left them both pondering.
Sarehl wondered if Nikos was likewise a mage, but, after watching Bene closely he discarded that thought because though he sensed respect and admiration for the mage from Nikos, he sensed even more in the Archmage's response to Nikos. There was a depth of deference in Bene's attitude that bordered on reverence. Nor was Sarehl conscious that his perception was more heightened than usual. As he considered Bene and Nikos, he saw Nikos stare at him over the top of Chlorien's head.
"You're acutely sensitive, Sarehl," he observed, with his disarming smile. Startled, Sarehl blushed, but Nikos shook his head at him. "It's a gift and you should never deny it, brother."
Again, Sarehl felt the empathic surge. When Nikos turned his head down to speak to Chlorien, Sarehl brushed a hand roughly across his eyes so he didn't see Nikos call to Bene and speak words for the mage alone. All Sarehl knew, with absolute conviction, was that, though Nikos was no mage, he was something quite rare. Sarehl doubted the man was of Ambros. That such a one, or a being, should be his sister's mate was something that would trouble and exercise the Strategos' mind for some time.
Chlorien met the healers and Ensore, the latter drawing her immediately because he was imperturbable and quite relaxed, and when he told her directly she was so much like her brothers she could easily pass as one of them this amused her. It made her promptly curl up at his feet so she got into conversation with him. His twinkling eyes attracted her. He was never too busy to indulge her when she asked questions, mostly about Sarehl and Daxel - it was as if she used this opportunity to get to know them as Ensore had come to do so long ago.
She liked Leon who was typically Yazd in that he listened, seldom commented, but absorbed a great deal that Kaleb knew would be passed on to the Mishtok at the first opportunity. She developed deep respect for Kaleb and was soon completely at ease with him. She was happy to talk about her brothers, or herbs and medicines, and was often so deep in discussion with the healer that Nikos would meet Sarehl's eyes and shrug, an impish laugh lighting his unusual coppery tinted dark eyes.
Eli frankly admired her, his grey eyes alight with response to her charm, his ready laugh and wit amusing her once she got used to it. She found he was as bad a tease as Daxel and threw up her hands in mock despair when Daxel recalled something of her childhood with devastating clarity and accuracy. It made her blush or toss her head in a way that delighted her mate. When she looked imploringly at Sarehl, her eldest brother only laughed uproariously at the recollection, affirming Daxel's reminiscences as exact. Helplessly, she yielded to Daxel's remorseless teasing though Nikos noted she could recall events that made the tall young man flush uncomfortably too.
Chlorien was shy with Brue, but that diffidence passed very quickly when Maren, a man she instinctively warmed to, encouraged the lively boy to graphically describe his life and his new horse, the latter occupying most of his thoughts. Brue's only comment, that made a shadow touch Chlorien's face, was that he thought, from looking at Kalbeth who was in Bethel's image, that she, too, was the mirror reflection of their brother. Appealed to, Sarehl agreed and changed the subject.
Brue went on with his tale, stopping at one point to exclaim indignantly,
"And it's no use Sar saying he didn't sell me to the Sushi, because he did!" This provoked mirth from the assembled company and made Brue indignant. "Well!" he said, outraged.
"And look at you now," said Maren affectionately. "A young one with his own Sushi bred stallion, one of the prize greys no less. So, lad, you did best out of the bargain, didn't you?"
"Indeed he did," chuckled Kalor, who winked solemnly at Nikos and got an appreciative grin in return. Nikos liked the Cyrenic whom he found different and strikingly individualistic.
"I suppose," conceded Brue, with a broad grin that made his eyes widen and sparkle. The resemblance to his brothers was apparent in the smile. "Chlorien, would you like to see Jasp? He's really some horse, even if I haven't quite learned how to handle him, have I, sir?" he appealed to Maren.
"Not quite," agreed Maren, on a yawn. He glanced at Chlorien. "Do you care for horses, youngster?"
"Of course she does," intervened Kalor, with his attractively lazy smile. "Especially of the quality of Jasp. Who could resist? Nikos?" Appreciatively Nikos rose and escorted the chattering boy from the pavilion, Kalor and Chlorien falling in behind them. "Do you like horses, Chlorien?" Kalor asked roguishly.
"Yes," she laughed, "I do, though I know very little about them."
"Then Brue's knowledge will improve your mind," suggested Kalor, on an irrepressible chuckle. Chlorien glanced up at him.
"You care for Brue, don't you?"
"Yes."
"How hurt was he?"
"Physically, not at all, because Dase got him out of Ortok. Emotionally, he was as devastated as Dase."
"I think," began Chlorien with a little difficulty, "that my days after Ortok were the easiest." Kalor slowed and stared down at the dark head.
"Does that trouble you, child?" he asked gently.
"Yes," whispered Chlorien. "Sar was tortured and nearly died. Dase was shattered by his experiences and by what happened to Lute. Bethel was enslaved to a man who used him so callously and hurt him so badly, and Lute was made to suffer on the slave train before he was taken by Malekim. And Brue was torn from everyone he knew, to be brought up for a few cycles in emotional deprivation."
"And you?"
"I was with the scholar who helped me adjust. He cared for me and allowed no one to hurt me."
"Are you saying it was easy, child?"
"No, it wasn't easy, but I wasn't made to suffer like my brothers."
"And later?"
"I learned things that tore me apart, Kalor."
"Suffering can't easily be categorised or compared for whose was worst, Chlorien. Remember that. Your brothers have had hard roads to travel and the end's still unclear, but I believe your suffering will be the equal of theirs, though different."
"I have more to come," said Chlorien quietly. "It's why I was saved."
"How can you know that, child?"
"I just know, Kalor."
"And your brothers?"
"That I can't tell, though I know I'll meet Lute."
"Are you afraid?"
"Father once said that only fools know no fear. I feel it, Kalor, deep inside, because I know that I'll have to confront Malekim and he has enormous power."
"So does your greatsire." As Kalor spoke he looked down into the upturned face. What he read in the violet eyes staring up at him, gave him a sense of unease and foreboding. He actually shivered. "Courage, child," he said gently, unsurprised to feel Chlorien's hand reach out to clasp his. He held it firmly.
~~~
Chlorien and Bene spent hours together, the young and the old sitting together in a grove in the same way Bene was with Sarehl and later with Daxel. More often than not Nikos was with them, the man lying back on his elbows, his curiously coloured eyes ever watchful and his feeling for Chlorien apparent in his every gesture and look.
He seldom joined in conversations. He was a spectator as the two repeatedly melded. To a casual onlooker no one seemed to speak for ho
urs, as emotions and thoughts flowed gently back and forth like an ebbing and surging tide between the old mage and the young woman. Nikos knew Chlorien learned. He could tell by the expression on her face.
Often though, Nikos wandered the camp alone, talked with men or women and hunkered down beside children drawn to him. They clambered into his lap so they could play with his beard or stare solemnly at him. Nikos listened. He, too, was learning. If Chlorien wasn't conversing with Bene, Nikos was, the two men so intent they were closed to the outside world. Nikos couldn't see enough of the healers and Ensore, and he enjoyed the company of the rakish Kalor and the irrepressible Eli who made him laugh.
He was responsive to Brue who was intrigued by him and accepted him as another brother with alacrity and pleasure, and he warmed to the tall brother so torn and profoundly hurt that Nikos felt Daxel's grief like his own. He sensed the pain as a shroud wrapped about the young man. Accordingly, Nikos spent time with him. He approached him unobtrusively and encouraged him to walk and to talk at every opportunity. Daxel came to respond to the warmth of the man. After several days, he spoke of Luton. Though Nikos couldn't offer Daxel answers, he offered him understanding and hope in ways those of Ambros couldn't.
Daxel felt the man was part of him, and, by fully experiencing his anguish, as even Kaleb couldn't, Nikos was able to offer comfort. He had the relief of seeing some of the despair, that touched the big black eyes at times, abate. The cheerfulness the young man assumed with others, other than those close to him, was no longer entirely feigned, though Daxel wouldn't have believed he wasn't as he seemed. The light in the eyes was vital. Sarehl saw it. So did the healers and Ensore, but nobody commented. None missed the time Nikos spent with the young man.
What they did notice was how Nikos lounged back, his expression unreadable, while Chlorien talked or laughed with the company. If the night became advanced he quietly bent towards her and, lightly touching her cheek, suggested they retire. Not once, Sarehl thought, did she demur. She wasn't submissive to Nikos, she was just so at one with him she had no wish to do other than what was suggested. Ensore and the healers observed this, too, but, again, no comment was offered. Nikos was an enigma who baffled all.
This evening Chlorien dressed as a woman. Her appearance made all who saw her blink. To some she was Cynthas, to others she was Melas. And, to everyone else, she was simply a breathtakingly beautiful woman. She watched Kalbeth play the lute, the small child's attitude as he plucked the strings so reminiscent of Bethel she almost wept. She wondered how Sarehl had coped so well. She acknowledged that to raise a boy, who was the image of a lost father, was a task she'd have undertaken reluctantly and her admiration for her eldest brother was profound.
Her glance flickered to Sarehl. The look she saw in the black eyes that rested on the boy told her all she needed to know. She well understood why Nikos quietly informed her, days before, that, unbeknownst to Sarehl, Kalbeth was guarded day and night by Ensore's elite guard. Instinctively, Chlorien knew that to lose Kalbeth to warriors would be more than Sarehl could bear.
She stared again at the dark curly head bent over the lute, aware as she did of sweeping pain because she was back in Ortok with a family that sat about a fire listening to a rarely talented boy. Listening now to Kalbeth she knew this boy had musical gifts, too, though his were different - none could touch Bethel who appeared divinely blessed.
What fascinated Chlorien about this singularly beautiful boy was something else. She sensed he was destined for something other than music, that there was a mystery to this child that would only be unravelled with time and that he would be held back for some purpose. This puzzled her. She watched as the fingers stilled, the head lifted and the very big dark blue eyes looked directly into hers and held for a breathless moment. Fleetingly, Chlorien saw Kalbeth as a young man as she suddenly realised Bethel must now look. Then all she saw were the eyes of a child. She was shaken, but regained her poise instantly to join the clapping. She leaned forward.
"Bethel would be so proud of you," she whispered.
Kalbeth hesitated. He carefully put the lute to one side so he could approach Chlorien. He stared wistfully at her before crossing to her side of the pavilion where he stood, again unsure whether or not to come closer. Immediately Chlorien patted her lap in an inviting fashion. Kalbeth sank down slowly, letting out his breath as arms closed about him and Chlorien began to rock him. She talked to him in a way only the child could hear. He began to smile.
Conversation began since the music had come to an abrupt halt. It was Daxel who suddenly said into a momentary lull,
"What's actually happened to Scholar, Chlo?"
Chlorien crooned softly to Kalbeth, but stopped at that and raised her head. There was a glow about her that transformed her, her eyes softening and a warmth coming to her voice that was noticeable when she spoke.
"You can be sure he's well," she said tenderly.
"Where is he? Is he coming to join us since he's a mage? He is one, isn't he?"
"Yes he is, but I don't know where he is, because I haven't seen him since I went to Nikos in the Shadowlands. Will he come here, Sire?" Chlorien appealed to Bene who sat quietly, like Nikos, a silent spectator.
"Ask not where mages go," quipped Bene amused, though his eyes stayed sombre, Kaleb noticed. Chlorien turned to Nikos.
"Nikos?"
"Beloved," responded Nikos, with a laugh in his voice. "Mages are mercurial. He could be anywhere on Ambros, and, knowing Autoc, that could even be down south. I haven't seen him in cycles!" He felt it was an admissible lie.
"There you are, Dase," said Chlorien, with a faint little shrug.
"But he's well?" persisted Daxel. "He was good to us, Chlo, in so many ways. I think we all remember him with affection and only wish him well."
"He knows that," said Bene unexpectedly. "Rest easy about him, child. He's well." Daxel mumbled acceptance and the discussion veered to other topics.
~~~
When Lian came shrinkingly into Sarehl's pavilion one morning, Chlorien, dressed as a woman, rose with the elegance and grace that characterised Bethel. To Lian, fraught with dread at what he thought Chlorien's reaction might be, the pavilion was overfull. His face whitened and he hesitated at the entrance. Numerous pairs of eyes fixed to his face was more than he could bear. He half-turned defensively.
Sarehl was even more quickly on his feet than Chlorien, his hands stretched out to Lian in welcome and encouragement. Lian took them. Quietly Sarehl gripped Lian's hands in his so he could lead his half-brother forward.
"I came for Kal," whispered Lian hoarsely, his eyes shying from contact with Chlorien.
"He's with Kasan," replied Sarehl gently. "Come, Lian. You're welcome and we've noticed your absence. You know Chlo's here, don't you?" Lian gave a shudder.
"Yes," he mumbled. "Sar, I can't stay."
Chlorien stood still, her eyes fixed intensely to Lian's face. Sarehl saw the expression. Lian didn't. He bent his head, speaking in a voice that was well-nigh inaudible.
"Sar tells me you're Myme Chlo." Before she spoke, Chlorien stepped directly in front of the shrinking man.
"When I was a little girl, Lian, you cared much for me."
"I betrayed you." Lian's voice was faint. His head went lower, his long silky hair shrouding his face. Speaking inarticulately, he put his hands to his head. "I had no choice about what I did, Myme Chlo, I beg you to believe that. I didn't know until a short time ago what was done to me, but now I do. I'd never have betrayed someone as dear to me as you." Lian's voice trailed miserably away and he even flinched when Chlorien put out a hand to touch him.
"Lian," she said softly, "I'm so sorry for what Mam did to you. She was very young and hurt and confused - she thought you intended me harm."
"Oh gods, Myme Chlo, never to you."
"Lian, I know you cared for me and you'd never harm me. Had you betrayed me, as you say you did, I'd have learned the truth. You can't be held accountable when your mind was s
o abused by someone who sought his child at any cost."
"Your father," muttered Lian. It was hard for him to grasp that someone he so cared for could be the child of one who set out to destroy him. "Your father, Myme Chlo! Ah, the gods, he used us all, didn't he? Like toys. Even his own child." Chlorien took Lian's hands in a very firm grasp and shook Lian gently.
"Lian, that the sorcerer's my natural father is something unbearable for me. He hurt you so you could, in turn, hurt me, by handing me over to the warlord. Lodestok was instructed to have me taken to the Keep. Lute suffered in my stead. Lian, I wish I could blot out what's been done to you."
"Why?" gasped Lian bleakly. "Oh gods, Myme Chlo, why?"
"That's something I have to ask him, isn't it, brother?" Lian shivered convulsively.
"So afraid," he managed jerkily. "I can't bear to think of him. He hurt -." Lian's voice broke.
"He has much to answer for," said Chlorien under her breath, her voice as cold and menacing as Bene's could be. Sarehl and Kaleb heard it and exchanged glances. She put her arms around Lian comfortingly and whispered, "Mam makes a lovely Ice Crystal dragon, doesn't she?"
Lian stammered, "You've spoken to her, more than once?"
"Oh yes," answered Chlorien, sadness tingeing her voice.
"Isn't she the most beautiful creature, Chlo?" Lian's head jerked up as he spoke and his eyes were briefly alight and luminous.
"Yes, she is, Lian. She has a special fondness for you that perhaps is some compensation for how she treated you."
"Has she?" Lian's eyes blazed with an odd starriness.
"She spoke of you in a way that suggests that's so," affirmed Chlorien. She touched his cheek where the beard was apparent. "When I was little, Lian, you held my hands and said you'd always look after me. Do you remember?"
"Yes," came the mumbled reply.
"Did you mean it?"
"Of course I meant it," said Lian, unexpected fierceness to the usually mild, passive voice.
"Will you say it and hold my hands as you did then?"
"Must you punish me?" he asked on a despairing note. Sarehl had to repress a strong urge to protest and go to his side. Finally, after a very long pause, Lian held out his hands for Chlorien to grasp.
"And?" she prompted. "Raise your head, brother, and look at me." Unwillingly Lian did, the words he spoke wrung from him.