Healing Lance (A Warrior's Redemption 1)

by M. D. Grimm

  Scourge had carried those orders out. The priestess of that village had told him everything, and he remembered every single word acutely.

  Ulfr might be Lance’s problem in battle but Scourge belonged to him.

  Gust shook his head, locking those thoughts back up in a box.

  At least Lance was fully healed, and he had several new scars to add to his collection. Gust found them far too intriguing. He burned with curiosity as to their origins but kept his mouth shut. He highly doubted Lance would want to talk about his past, especially when Gust kept telling him to look to his future.

  Gust helped other trainees clean up the training area and then encouraged them to get some food and a good night’s sleep. He smiled with pride at his people. They were really coming along. Many had training already, and Lance’s techniques sharpened their skills, and his knowledge of Ulfr and his tactics proved invaluable and gave Thebys’s people confidence and hope.

  Sheriff Kafele was now grunting amiably every time he saw Lance, although the council continued to be reserved in their dealings with him. Lukman still wanted him hanged while Gamall watched Lance with a tolerant eye. The younger councilors were slightly warmer although considering Lance was the reason for Ulfr’s arrival, it would seem only Gust considered him a friend. Well, except for Ally, that is. She seemed quite taken with Lance as if he was her long-lost little brother. Lance always appeared surprised and grateful for her attention, as if still not certain why she liked him.

  The stone walls around the town at the top of the hill were nearing completion. They wouldn’t stop Ulfr’s charge if he was truly determined to kill them all, and yet it would at least be another obstacle to overcome, one that could give Thebys just enough advantage to win the day, or at least prevent a wholesale slaughter. There were future plans, once Ulfr was dealt with, to build walls and a gate around the town. Something that should have happened a long time ago.

  Gust followed Lance’s route, hoping to confront him about his anger. Hoping to help. He passed the bakery, and his stomach rumbled as the heavenly smells wafted out of the windows. He stopped in and bought several pastries from Ansi who tried to keep him with humorous stories about his newest child. Gust gave him just enough time for two before he had to bow out. It warmed his heart and eased his mind to see Ansi so jovial. Despite the dark shadow bearing down on them, Ansi seemed to focus on being besotted by his daughter. Well, it was more productive than him being anxious over everything and ruining his health.

  Gust made a second stop into the tavern to trade a couple of the pastries for two flasks of ale. Atema eyed him from his chair.

  “You shouldn’t get too attached to that warrior. He won’t stick around after he makes good on his word and kills Ulfr. He doesn’t belong here.”

  “That’s no reason not to be nice to him,” Gust said. “How about treating him decently? It doesn’t hurt us to treat him the way we would any visitor.”

  “He isn’t exactly a visitor.”

  Gust glared at him before taking the flasks and striding out of the tavern. Ignorant jerk. He took a few steadying breaths before heading for the field, figuring it was a good place to start to find Lance. He was right. Gust stopped short and his eyes widened as Lance and Brutus galloped across the flat field. Wow, could that horse move!

  Lance’s honey blond hair streaked behind him, his pale skin reflecting the sun’s dying rays. His coloring was in stark contrast to his gray horse, yet they were so similar in temperament. They moved together as one, one mind, one spirit. Brutus’s hooves thundered across the land, his dark eyes filled with fierce life, his nostrils flaring for air. Lance’s eyes were blue fire, his body crouched and tight, his mouth pulled into a grim line.

  Their grace mesmerized Gust as they raced around the field. Brutus easily pounced over the modest tent in the middle of the meadow, and Gust suspected the horse could soar high and far if given the opportunity and motivation.

  After a few more minutes of hard galloping, Brutus slowed and Lance straightened. They trotted a little bit before coming to stop near the tent. Lance heaved a sigh and dismounted. He tugged a few times at his clothes before stroking Brutus’s neck. He spoke softly to him, and Gust couldn’t catch the words since they were too far away. He didn’t like the look in Lance’s eyes.

  Brutus nickered and bumped his large nose against Lance’s face. With a strained laugh, Lance playfully shoved his head away. Then he swiftly removed saddle and bridle, the movements practiced and efficient. He didn’t struggle with the saddle the way Gust had.

  Gust stepped forward, careful to make noise so he wouldn’t be sneaking up on them. Lance stiffened and looked over his shoulder. It pleased Gust that Lance relaxed when he recognized him and he even smiled a little. Brutus trotted up and bumped his shoulder before nosing at the bag in his hand.

  Gust laughed and kept the bag of pastries out of reach. “No, no. This is not for you. However,”—he pulled half an apple out of his pocket, and Brutus stomped his foot and swished his tail in excitement— “This is for you.”

  Brutus eagerly took the half apple from his palm and then trotted away. Gust snickered before smiling at Lance. Lance still had that same small smile on his face, though his eyes were shielded, all emotion hidden.

  Gust walked up to him and held out one of the flasks of ale. “I got this for you.”

  Lance blinked at it and kept his hands at his sides. “You don’t have to get me anything.”

  “Friends sometimes do this for each other,” Gust gently explained. “It’s to show appreciation and to strengthen the bond. Remember how you gave me that little bear at the festival? This is not so different. I like you, Lance. Please take it.”

  Lance hesitated for another moment before taking the flask. Then Gust opened the bag of pastries, and heat and scent wafted out. Lance moaned.

  Gust chuckled and held out a particularly fat and gooey piece of bliss. “Here.”

  “Thanks,” Lance said quietly before taking it. He took a deep sniff before shoving half of it into his mouth and biting down. A deep groan rumbled out of him that time, and the sound zinged down to Gust’s groin. His cock thickened, hardened, and he had to swallow his own groan. He took a large gulp of ale and forced his eyes away from the pure ecstasy on Lance’s face. Damn. What would he look like during the throes of sex? Would he be forceful and dominant or laid back and submissive? Gust couldn’t begin to guess. There was a lot to Lance, much of it still hidden.

  They ate without speaking. When Gust offered Lance another pastry, Lance looked longingly at it before shaking his head.

  “Come on, you know you want it,” Gust said playfully. He held it under Lance’s nose temptingly, teasingly. “Give in, Lance. You know you can’t fight it. Give in to your desire.”

  Lance snorted a laugh before meeting Gust’s eyes. Then his expression turned serious, and there must have been some grim thoughts wizzing around behind those eyes. Gust frowned and lowered his arm.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Lance opened his mouth. Shut it. Looked away.

  “Hey.” He gently touched Lance’s arm. “You can tell me. Did I do something?”

  Lance shook his head, watching Brutus.

  “Do you want me to leave?”

  “No.” Lance looked back and touched Gust’s hand that was still on his arm. “I like you here. I like you here with me.”

  Gust’s heart banged against his ribs and he smiled. “I like you here with me, too.”

  Lance looked awkward for a moment before he slightly spread his arms. “Can I, um, can I…?”

  It took Gust a moment before everything inside him softened. Gust returned the pastry to the bag before setting it and the flask down. Then he stepped closer. “Of course.”

  Lance hugged him tightly and pressed his face into the crook of Gust’s neck. His warm breath against his skin made Gust shudder and swallow hard. He gripped Lance close and gently stroked his back. What was going on inside that odd head of
his?

  Lance trembled and squeezed tighter.

  Gust frowned and patted his back.

  “He’s coming.”

  Gust jerked at his soft words. “What?”

  “Ulfr. He’s close. I just know it. My gut tells me he knows where I am, and it won’t be long now.”

  Gust swallowed hard and closed his eyes, pressing his face into Lance’s shoulder. Maybe that was why Lance was on edge all day. Gust had no reason to doubt Lance’s gut and fear made him tremble as well.

  Lance must have felt it because he stroked a hand tenderly down Gust’s head, calluses scraping over his braids. Gust tightened his fists in Lance’s tunic. Then Lance cupped the back of Gust’s head as the other hand bunched a large knot of Gust’s tunic. He pressed even closer and Gust felt every bit of that hard body smashed against his own, from head to knee. Gust’s cock thickened, and there was no way he could shift away. He flushed hot and attempted to pull back but Lance had him in an iron hold.

  “Don’t let him hurt you,” Lance whispered roughly, right against his ear.

  Gust bit back a groan as Lance’s warm breath tickled his sensitive skin.

  “Stay with the archers on the roofs. I will deal with Ulfr. He’s mine. He won’t touch you, I swear to the gods.” A violent shudder ran through Lance. “Gods, I can’t lose you.”

  His voice deepened, thickened, the emotions plain to hear. And the fear. Not for himself but for Gust.

  “You won’t,” Gust whispered. “You won’t lose me, my friend. But I don’t want to lose you either. So you fight with everything you have and you kill that bastard. For yourself. For me. For every single person whose life he’s taken. Understand?”

  Lance nodded frantically. “I promise.”

  Gust finally managed to pull away and, before he lost his nerve, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Lance’s cheek. He still needed to shave. Lance’s sharp intake of breath had Gust flushing. He pulled all the way back and stepped away, breaking their connection. Lance stared at him in shock before lifting a hand and touching his cheek.

  Emotion flooded Gust’s throat and he swallowed hard. “Has no one ever kissed you?”

  Lance shook his head.

  Gust took a deep breath. “Well, then.” He stepped closer and kissed Lance’s other cheek. “Now you have two kisses.”

  Lance blinked slowly before raising his other hand and touching that cheek. Then he smiled, and when he looked at Gust, the warmth and adoration was visible even in the dying light of the sun.

  Gust’s heart hammered against his chest, and he wanted to kiss more. He wanted to devour those soft lips, to find out his taste, to feel that hard body against his own. To feel those calluses scrape over him. Images burst forth in his mind, and he had to look away to rein in his fantasies. Whoa there.

  He knew desire had been growing steadily since the moment Lance had opened his eyes in the healing hut, since the moment their gazes had met. But he realized now it was one-sided. As their bodies were pressed together, he never felt Lance grow hard. Perhaps he wasn’t capable of physical intimacy. His mind was childlike after all, and children didn’t think about sex.

  He was jerked out his thoughts when Lance kissed his cheeks in return. Those soft lips and scratchy beard alternately aroused and tickled. Lance pulled back with a smile and squeezed Gust’s shoulders before stepping away and picking up his flask from where he dropped it. He took a large swig and Gust couldn’t look away. He acutely felt where those lips touched him and he wanted more.

  “Let’s have dinner in the tavern,” Gust said, needing a distraction from his wayward, hopeless thoughts. “I think it would be good for my people to see you outside of training. To see you be like one of them.”

  “Okay,” Lance said, still smiling. His trust in Gust was humbling.

  Gust grabbed his flask and bag as Lance told Brutus where they were going. They ate the last of the pastries as they walked back into town and toward the tavern.

  They sat at the same table as during the festival, and Gust ordered food and drink for them. He greeted several of the patrons as he made his way back to Lance. Unfortunately, many gave him disapproving looks, a few shaking their heads. His friendship with Lance certainly caused tension if not a rift. Kissa was more reserved with him now and even the other healers and their apprentices didn’t seem to know how to act around him anymore. He managed to ignore it for the most part since he was preoccupied with training and helping Lance. He wished they allowed themselves to see Lance the way he saw him.

  When the music and storytelling started, Lance fully relaxed, though his posture was attentive as always. He was still on alert, a constant state for him. Gust frequently glanced at him and was glad to see him with clear eyes and a smiling face. He didn’t enjoy himself enough, and with Ulfr darkening their future, Gust wanted Lance to remember what joy and life were. So he knew what he was fighting for.

  Two more singers followed the first, then an older man stood, swaying slightly with drink, and recited a comical story about a weary traveler, a donkey, and a talking ferret.

  Once he sat down and everyone quieted their laughter, a baby-faced minstrel stood. He wore colorful clothing, suitably loud for one of his guild. He swept his arms to his sides, emphasizing his words.

  “We are tasked with a great burden, my friends. Good people of Thebys, you are called to defend yourselves and your home from those that wish it harm. The troubles of Grekenus will soon become ours, and we will meet it head-on with courage and cunning. For no one can stand against us, the blessed of the gods, not even the black sea wolf of Grekenus and his weapon, the deadly Scourge.”

  Gust’s stomach dropped and he vaguely felt Lance stiffen beside him. He was too wrapped up in his own struggle to control his emotions to notice his friend’s reaction. He wanted to throw his tankard at the minstrel and tell him to sit his ass down. The rest of the tavern, however, leaned forward, intent on his words that might alleviate their own anxieties.

  “It is unknown from whence Scourge came. Some say the sea wolf known as Ulfr, Mad Blackwolf, summoned the creature from the underworld, as if the beast was a child of Mawn the Devourer. Or perhaps the creature that looks like a man but is not one, came from Snet himself. Just as Appep was spawned from the two fiercest deities. Those of Grekenus call their god of war and chaos Marsus. For surely Scourge is just that—a bringer of misery and war, an affliction that sweeps across the land, devastating all those in its path. A monster of the darkest and deepest bowels of the world.

  “Yet Ulfr, my friends, is a man. Just a man. He is vicious and cruel, much like a monster of Snet or Mawn himself, and yet he can be defeated. He can be brought low. He bleeds as we do, he eats and shats the same as us. Yet it is he who directs the monstrous Scourge. Perhaps when we, the people of Cairon, destroy Ulfr, we will destroy Scourge. What say you?”

  Shouts and cheers answered him.

  “When we destroy the beast’s master, will we not rid this empire of its affliction?”

  More cheers.

  “We, the people of Thebys, loyal subjects to the queens Cleptra and Sifus of Cairon, will be known far and wide as the slayers of the sea wolf and his great weapon!”

  The crowd roared. Then the minstrel picked up his lute and broke into song. It appeared to be a known gig the minstrel might have picked up in or near Grekenus from one of their bards. Gust fought against his need to vomit. All he could see was his parents. He was going to smack the minstrel at the first opportunity.

  “Let me tell you a tale of a sea wolf king

  A braggard who raided the western seas

  With his warband-a-ready and his axes keen

  The villainous, infamous, Mad Blackwolf

  Born in Swenen anonymously

  Bastard offspring

  And a cutthroat plunderer

  He shunned polite society

  For the love of riches and gold

  So Mad Blackwolf headed to the sea

  Grekenus ca
lling

  Civil war raging

  Sailed off to a life of piracy

  With his crew, to bloody, the sea!

  Let me tell you a tale of a sea wolf king

  A braggard who raided the western seas

  With his warband-a-ready and his axes keen

  The villainous, infamous, Mad Blackwolf

  But there was a tool he was missing

  A spawn of menace

  A spawn of darkness

  A weapon to sweep across the land

  A black armored beast

  Oh he looted and slaughtered and scorched black the land

  With axes cleaving

  And swords heaving

  He assaulted Grekenus mercilessly

  Oh Mad Blackwolf

  Then he ordered his dog to attack

  To spread warning

  To make cowering

  So the beast created a bloody sea

  To be Scourge the Blackwolf’s dog…”

  Gust tuned out the words as best he could and turned to Lance to see if they could sneak out. It was only then that he saw how pale his friend appeared, even in the dim light. His eyes were wide and terrified. His own sickness forgotten, Gust reached out.

  “Lance?”

  When he didn’t respond, Gust touched his arm. Lance jumped as if he was attacked and shot to his feet.

  “Lance?” Gust said again, firmer this time.

  Several people looked their way, scowling at the distraction. The minstrel was too caught up in his own words to notice them.

  Lance glanced at Gust before he turned sharply and ran out the door. Gust stumbled to his feet and hurried after him. When he charged outside, he couldn’t find him anywhere.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Am I a monster?

  Am I the spawn of Mawn or the creation of Snet?

  Lance’s mind raced as his legs ate up the ground. He hadn’t cared about anything when killing for Ulfr. He hadn’t understood or cared about the pain he caused. He’d heard the screams and found them annoying. He’d gutted anyone in his way without hesitation. Only with Brutus had he felt anything.