by M. D. Grimm
He cleared his throat and pulled away. “The, uh, next group should be arriving soon. Let’s, um, set up.”
“We need to eat,” Gust said gently. “Even the sheriff is taking a break.”
“Right.”
For the first time he could remember, Lance wasn’t hungry.
For the next couple of days, they trained two different groups a day, one in the morning, and one in the afternoon. The deputies took turns helping with the new recruits and Sheriff Kafele led the training, rotating his deputies so someone was always on patrol. Most of the people were building walls around the town and constructing catapults. Lance helped where he could, after seeing the sheriff was all set. His wounds had knit together nicely, allowing him to lift heavier objects. Even Brutus allowed himself to be lashed to a wagon, made to haul supplies to the different points of town. Lance was proud of his friend.
Lance would have liked more hardcore training but everyone had businesses to run and the town couldn’t stop its routine because no one knew how long it would take for Ulfr to arrive. Ragel’s men would have to start spreading rumors, then those would have to reach Ulfr’s ears, and then he’d have to confirm them and make his way south. Lance half wondered if they shouldn’t offer an invitation. A challenge. Ulfr would answer.
While he wouldn’t say the townspeople exactly warmed up to him, he was at least receiving less hostile looks. He was in the town though certainly not part of it, and it always served to emphasize how foolish was his wish to stay. Brutus was right—neither of them had a home.
The best part of his days was language lessons with Gust. It wasn’t long before he could speak short sentences in Coptin and understand words spoken to him in return. Those private moments with Gust were delightful and served to keep him steady. Gust never judged him or laughed at his fumbling. He continued to offer encouragement and showed infinite patience, proving his beauty was beyond skin-deep. Not that Lance ever had a doubt in that respect.
Every night he slept in the field beside Brutus. Sometimes Gust would stay with him late in the evening, and even though he silently wished he would stay the night, Gust always left. He enjoyed simply being around Gust, and the realization he would have to leave after killing Ulfr filled him with dread and sadness.
“I don’t want to leave my only friend.” He brushed Brutus, the morning sun warm against his back. It had been several days since they started preparation, and Lance was feeling anxious.
Brutus snorted and eyed him angrily.
“My only human friend,” he said as he patted Brutus’s neck. “Gust makes me happy and gives me a weird, warm feeling inside. I feel… funny around him.”
Brutus whinnied softly.
“I don’t know what it is but it gets more intense when he touches me or smiles at me.”
I can’t lose him.
Lance stopped brushing and clenched his hand into a fist. “Ulfr will die if he tries to harm Gust.”
Brutus snorted and stamped his foot in agreement.
Lance patted his neck and finished brushing his coat. “Come on, we don’t want to be late.”
Brutus pranced happily beside him as they headed toward the training area. When he passed the healing hut he stopped and had to fight the urge to enter and find Kissa. He wanted to thank her for her care and apologize for whatever he did or said that hurt her enough to eject him from the hut. But when he mentioned the intention once to Gust, his friend immediately told him not to. He didn’t say why but Lance trusted his judgment. In all things he trusted Gust.
Lance sighed. Brutus butted his shoulder.
“I’m going, I’m going.”
“Lance!”
He turned around as Ally hurried over to him. She grabbed his arm and tugged.
“Come with me.”
He grunted and let her tug him roughly with her. Brutus followed with a confused whinny. They walked under the roof that protected her forge before she let go.
“Stand there.”
He stood, not moving, while she grabbed a length of rope and began stretching it along his shoulders and then down his waist. It took him a moment to realize she was measuring him. She muttered to herself as she completed her task, no move wasted. Only after she noted down his measurements did he speak.
“What are you doing?”
“Making you a mail shirt,” she said as if it was obvious. “I finally get some reprieve from making extra axes and swords. Hope I can get this done before that wolf bastard comes knocking.”
Lance stared at her, emotion welling up in his throat. He swallowed it down and blinked his eyes clear, glad she had her back to him.
“I, uh. Thank you. You don’t have to.”
She turned to him and set a hand on her cocked hip. “Don’t be dumb. Of course, I do. If you’re going to fight that shat bastard you need protection. Me and Lukan have been working double time trying to meet the demand.”
Lukan was the other blacksmith in town. Lance had only met him once, and all he got was a glance and a grunt.
“I don’t have time for more than a shirt but if rumors are true about your prowess, I don’t need to worry that you’ll cut your own hand off.”
His lips twitched. “No. I certainly won’t do that.”
She smiled. “Good. Don’t forget to wear those vambraces you won from me at the festival. Away with ya now. I have work to do.”
He nodded and left, a slight bounce to his step. While he was glad to be free of the black armor of Scourge, he couldn’t deny Ally’s point. A mail shirt would go a long way in assisting him against Ulfr. And it would certainly be lighter than the plate armor.
He arrived late at the training area and quickly joined the lessons. By this time, it was mostly forcing people to practice again and again so their reactions were instant without the need to think and without room to hesitate. At least most of the townsfolk knew archery. Gust focused on that end of training as he refined their skills with encouragement and demonstrations. Targets were set on the outside of the training circle, and Lance was distracted more than once as Gust showed off his own skill. Then Lance would be brought back to the present when one of his opponents smacked a wooden sword or axe against his arm or leg or back. He would fight back then, and the opponent would end up on their back with a wooden point at their neck.
They were getting better, although too many were clumsy, timid, or overeager to prove themselves. He could tell that some of the younger folks thought this was a game. Ally was kind enough to provide wooden replicas for practice so they were fully stocked with wooden swords, axes, knives, and spears. Lance favored the sword although he could fight with any weapon on hand. He was decent at archery but preferred close combat.
Sheriff Kafele paired the group off and observed as they practiced. Gust came to stand next to Lance, facing the other way at his archers.
“I tried to encourage the other healers and their apprentices to participate,” Gust said. “They declined. I think they fear Anknet more than Ulfr.”
Lance frowned. “Your oath, the one you give to Anknet, doesn’t it mention not taking a life?”
Gust took a breath. “In a way. Our purpose is to preserve life. To help the wounded and to help mothers bring their children into the world. We are allowed to kill in self-defense or in the defense of others. But it’s encouraged to only wound our enemies. Life is a gift from the gods and one only they should be able to take away.”
“Then perhaps you shouldn’t learn the sword or the axe.”
Gust glanced at him with a frown. “I’m defending my town. I will use anything and everything I can to protect my people.”
“But you’re a healer.”
Gust made a noise and scanned his students for a moment before speaking again. “Aye, I’m a healer. But my father once told me that no man or woman is merely one thing. There are many parts to a person, to who and what they are. We must be fluid and flexible and do our best in whatever situation we find ourselves in. I am primari
ly a healer but I am also a defender.”
Lance stared. Gust continued to knock Lance on his butt with his wisdom. They were of an age and yet Gust often felt much older.
The morning training continued with a marked improvement with both sets of students. When they broke for lunch, Gust approached Lance looking grim.
“I just heard from Gamall. He received a response from Lord Semesy.”
Lance frowned. “You don’t look happy.”
Gust sighed. “He says he can spare a unit. That’s only twenty soldiers. He mentioned that he would contact the queens for assistance. Ulfr is a thorn in the empire’s side and we all want him dead. Him and his Scourge.” Gust spat the last word and paused to take a deep breath. “But who knows how long it will take for them to get here. Semsey’s holdings are relatively near but Lord Khepi’s estate is nearer. Regardless, it will still take them several days. How many are in Ulfr’s warband?”
Lance didn’t miss the hatred when Gust said Scourge. There was even more than with Ulfr’s name. His stomach dropped. “Eighty, sometimes as many as one hundred.”
Gust shook his head and ran a hand over his hair. “Even with our trained men and women that doesn’t feel like enough.”
“It isn’t,” Lance said honestly. “Many of Ulfr’s warband are dismissed soldiers, not just rogues with swords.”
“Gods. Plus Ulfr and his monster.” Gust frowned at Lance, lost in thought. Lance didn’t mind the silence or gazing at Gust’s face. Yet his stomach continued to plummet as he became more aware of Gust’s hatred.
“Have you heard from the other earl?” Lance asked a moment later.
“No. Not a word. Our messenger hasn’t returned either. We need at least another unit of soldiers to even stand a chance. And I’m worried about something else.”
“What?”
Gust chewed on his lower lip before saying, “They might arrest you.”
Lance blinked. “What?”
“You’re a known associate of Ulfr’s. If the queens’ own soldiers get involved, then it’s a two-edged sword. They will defend us but come after you.”
Lance stared at his feet a moment before shrugging. “They can arrest me after I kill Ulfr.”
Gust squeezed both his shoulders, and Lance was steadied by his firm touch and the strong scent of his sweat that wafted around them.
“I have your back, you know that, right?” Gust asked.
Lance laid his hands over Gust’s and nodded. “I do. And I have yours.”
Gust offered a small smile before pulling away and walking over to join a small group of archers. Gust interacted with everyone so flawlessly. He had so many friends. This was truly his home. Lance could only guess what that felt like.
Although Lance was still warm from Gust’s touch, his heart was heavy as he turned and walked away. He wandered around without any clear direction and soon found himself standing in front of the temple of the gods. He gazed at the vivid colors, the carvings and sharp angles. Each shrine had its own look, dedicated specifically to one of the gods. Ulfr worshipped the gods of chaos. He would say that his slaughter of entire villages was a sacrifice to the gods of war and chaos. He once said that Lance was a gift from one of them, a terrible little monster for Ulfr to bend and shape to his will.
Who knew? Maybe it was true.
Lance thought of the civil war in Grekenus and the story of how the empire was formed and of Appep. Chaos and balance. War and peace. He’d been made for war and chaos. Could he choose to be for balance and peace?
Lance had no memory of his life before Ulfr. Nothing. It was a blank slate, a missing piece he’d never acknowledged until now. Ulfr had found him, alone and starving, and never said a word about his origins. Maybe he didn’t know either.
With a narrowed look at Snet’s shrine, Lance moved over to stand between Osys’s and Ysys’s shrines. They were the supreme deities of Cairon. He knelt and clasped his hands in front of him as he had observed other worshippers do. He closed his eyes and tried to pray.
Give me the strength to exact justice on Ulfr, he thought. Let my skills be put to good use. If you see fit, O Mighty Gods of Life and Death, let Ulfr’s greatest weapon be used against him.
Sensing someone watching him, he looked up. The priestess stood close by, a damp cloth in one hand while she held a bucket with the other.
She smiled. “Don’t mind me. Just cleaning,” she said in Taris. “I’m Mandissa and you’re Lance.”
“I am.”
“Please, continue as you like. I don’t mean to disturb you.”
“You’re not. I just…. I’ve never prayed before. I don’t know if they’ll listen.”
“They always listen. If they do decide to assist us, they do so subtly, most of the time encouraging us to help ourselves. The days of them directly involving themselves in human affairs is far in the past.”
Lance stood. “Do you need any help?”
Her smile widened. “No, thank you. Kurzun should be out soon to assist me. He’s the priest of the temple.”
Lance scanned the shrines, a question burning on his tongue. Who better to ask than a priestess? “Do you believe in fate?”
“Yes.”
He turned to her. “Then you don’t believe in choice.”
“I do.”
“How can you believe in both?”
“Our fates are not set in stone, but certainly, the gods have plans for us all. From the moment we’re born, we are fated for something. Yet we have choices. Those who turn away from their fates often find their lives sad and meaningless. Devoid of joy and pleasure. We can choose to follow our fates or turn away from them. Both carry a cost and a burden.”
Lance fingered the hilt of his sword and considered Mandissa’s words.
“You were meant to come here, I think.”
“What?”
“You and your beautiful Brutus. You were meant to come here. You were meant to meet Gust. Whatever you have been through before you arrived here, I believe has a role to play in your future.”
“What role?”
“I cannot say. All I can tell you is to follow your path. You will learn what you need to when you need to.”
He was about to ask her more questions when a voice full of hatred cut him off.
“You foul this place with your presence.”
Lance looked over his shoulder. Lukman stood a few paces away, scowling darkly, a sheathed sword at his side. He was dressed just as regally as when Lance first set eyes on him. Heavy fabric, embroidery, and vibrant colors that put Lance in mind of peacocks he’d seen once in Grekenus. He knew Lukman was Dakar’s father, and he watched Lukman warily as he turned fully toward him.
“Gust told me all worshippers are welcome here,” he said.
“Gust doesn’t have the authority he thinks he does. Do us all a favor and get out.”
Lance frowned. “I will leave once I kill Ulfr.”
Lukman took a menacing step forward. “You will leave now.”
Dakar had kept his distance from Lance and Gust, refusing to take part in the training sessions. Lance was content to let him be, and yet it would seem Lukman had other plans.
“I will not. Your council said I could stay and protect you—”
“I need no protection from a godless warrior!” Lukman unsheathed his sword and swung it at Lance.
Lance anticipated the move and stepped aside. Lukman was well-trained, forcing Lance to bring his sword to bear and block each thrust and stab. He blocked again and again, never once charging forward, never once attacking.
Gust wouldn’t want him to kill one of his people.
The clash of swords brought a crowd. And then the sheriff, closely followed by Mandissa and a short, squat, bald man wearing a similar golden robe as the priestess. The priest Kurzun? Apparently, they had gone to fetch the sheriff.
Lukman backed away as Kafele jogged forward. Lukman’s breath heaved and his dark eyes glittered with fury. Lance lowered his sword
, his stomach knotting painfully. He wasn’t even breathing hard.
“What happened here?” Kafele demanded, stepping between the two combatants. He eyed them both. “Do we not have enough problems without internal discord?”
“He attacked me,” Lukman said, sheathing his sword. “I merely defended myself.”
Lance scowled. “Liar.”
Mandissa stepped forward. She set her hand on Kurzun’s shoulder, standing a full foot taller than him.
“Sheriff Kafele, upon my word, Elder Lukman attacked Lance without provocation. Lance and I were having a friendly conversation when the elder attacked.”
Apparently Lukman hadn’t seen Mandissa because now he reddened and blustered. “He told us himself that Ulfr trained him!” Lukman pointed a finger. “We have that monster’s ilk in our midst. He fouls the very place we call home. How do we know he isn’t a plant or a spy?”
“I was near death when I came here,” Lance said, uncomfortable with the narrowed looks he received from the growing crowd. Despite Mandissa’s words, they appeared to believe Lukman.
“So we were told but how do we know the truth of this? You healed up rather quick, didn’t you?”
“All right, Lukman, let’s just—” the sheriff said, trying to keep the peace.
“I vouch for him!”
Lance spun around as Gust pushed through the crowd, coming to stand at his side. Gust glared at Lukman, the green of his eyes dark as thunderclouds.
“You shame yourself, Lukman.”
Lukman’s flushed as he took an aggressive step forward, right into Kafele’s bracing hand.
“You watch your tongue, child.”
“You would doubt the word of my aunt, one of the most renowned healers in Cairon?” Gust’s voice rang clear and true. “You would doubt me? One who grew up in this town, has become a healer in his own right? Or do you doubt Brutus’s divinity and his very presence vouching for Lance’s honesty? I found Lance, Elder Lukman. I say he was near death. How dare you question me? Has your fury truly made you forget my parents’ fate?”