by Devon Vesper
Kerac brightened. It made him look far younger, which made Valis’ grin grow. It only dimmed when Kerac bent down and kissed Valis’ temple, drawing a sleepy sigh from him. “I hope you do, as well. Darolen is my heart. It is a great and precious thing to be so in love and loved in return.” The skin around his eyes crinkled with amusement as he pointed a finger toward Valis’ now flaccid penis. “Just don’t go looking for an Ezhav with this.” He pressed his palm over Valis’ heart. “When you find it, this will feel as if bursting. If in doubt, Phaerith will guide you.”
“What if I find a woman I feel that way about?”
That kind smile returned and Kerac helped Valis pull his pants up. He tucked him into his bedroll and smoothed his cloak over him to keep out the night’s chill. “You will not be able to join the Order as Aesriphos, but you may still be a Priest as not all are solitary, or remain with the monastery in servitude to raise a family in another role. Or you may leave to build a life outside the monastery. Your options do not close.”
Valis yawned and nodded. “Sounds good.”
Kerac rustled around, making quick work of cleaning up Valis’ mess. Then he leaned close and pressed another warm kiss to his temple, smoothed a hand along his arm and down the length of his body to his knee. “Sleep now, Valis. We still have a long journey before we reach Arlvor.”
Chapter Twelve
By the end of the second month of travel, Valis grew accustomed to the saddle. It almost became a source of comfort. The change in scenery from the rolling plains of Haiana to the dense forests of Airal, and now into a mountainous area of Sadai made time go by fast. The worry that his uncle may be following still nagged at his mind, but the sights, sounds, scents, and constant conversation helped to ease those fears. Perhaps his uncle had given up on him. Perhaps he was too weak to follow, or they had lost him along the way. It was a heady feeling to think that he had escaped all of his family as easily as he had become accustomed to traveling from sunrise to dusk. Now, slogging through the heat of summer’s last legs was only made bearable by the comfort from his companions and the ease in which he had come to trust them completely. He looked over to Kerac and smiled. The warrior stared at Darolen’s back with such love that it made Valis ache inside. And as every day passed, he felt more like that love encompassed him, too.
With Darolen in the point position, Kerac sometimes fell back behind the pack animals—the one with their gear, the one carrying his bound father and their food, and the two pulling the wagon with all Valis’ valuables. This usually happened when they came near towns or other travelers. He noticed both Aesriphos became tense every time they heard hooves approaching, so maybe they were worried about his uncle, too. Though, now that they were once again in wilderness, Kerac rode beside him in comfortable silence.
Hating to break that calm silence, Valis turned his attention to the jerky in his hand and gnawed another bite off the strip. When he glanced up again, Kerac sat watching him with a steady, serious frown.
“What?”
That expression broke, and he huffed a laugh. “My apologies. I did not realize I was thinking so intently.” He shifted in his saddle and sighed as he turned his gaze forward. “I want Darolen to start teaching you self-defense. Soon we will be in hostile lands. Darolen and I can and will protect you with all that we are, but I want to make sure you aren’t helpless in case one… or both of us fall.”
The lump of jerky got stuck in his throat, and Valis choked it down. He pressed his lips together and took a deep breath through his nose like he would when he knew he was about to face his father’s wrath over something. Kerac squeezed his bicep.
“We are capable, Valis,” he said. “Trust in us as you have throughout this journey. Just… do this for me… for my peace of mind. Please.”
“Why is it hostile?” Valis coughed to get the rest of the jerky out of his windpipe and swallowed. “What’s going on?”
Kerac sighed and stared ahead. “Bandits frequent the trails, woods and roads between here and Isrivo more readily than anywhere else I have seen in our travels. Isrivo itself is in civil war as the monarch has lost favor with a certain faction. Travelers are harassed and exiled at best, killed if the guards are cruel. Sadai, Mivali and Sithera are on edge due to Isrivo’s constant attacks and the influx of bandits, so they are also hostile toward outsiders, no matter how good their intentions.”
He pressed his lips together hard and frowned. “And then there is still the threat of your uncle. We can’t be too careful, and I want you armed in case anything goes sideways. You must be prepared, even if nothing happens.”
Valis shuddered. He huddled in his saddle and gripped the reins tighter. “I’ll do what you want. I don’t want to be any more of a burden than I already have been. I don’t want to hold you and Darolen back.”
From the front, Darolen laughed. “You have neither held us back, nor been a burden, Valis.”
“Truly,” Kerac said gently. “We would not have asked you to join us if we weren’t prepared to teach you what you need to know, and care for you when you are unable to care for yourself. You have been a joy, Valis.”
“For both of us,” Darolen added in a serious tone.
Kerac caught his hand and drew it toward him as he edged his horse closer to Valis’ steady black gelding. He kissed his palm since he couldn’t reach his temple and smiled. “Think of it as preparation for swordsmanship and unarmed combat lessons when we reach Cadoras.”
After a moment of thought, Valis nodded. He squeezed Kerac’s hand and laced their fingers together. The months he’d spent with the two warriors had turned his feelings of hero worship into a deep affection that they both returned in their own ways. Kerac was more open with his hugs and chaste kisses. Darolen often gave his affection with a squeeze of his shoulder or merely a look that held his entire heart’s warmth.
They were more his family than his parents had ever been. That thought both terrified, confused, and warmed him in an often dizzying cyclone of emotions. Especially now that he was more able to interpret most of Darolen’s gruff tones and the differences in his silent looks. He wasn’t as stern and angry all the time as Valis had expected, just quiet and with a deep, rumbling voice that now served as a comfort instead of a constant source of anxiety.
Kerac didn’t pull away. Instead, he squeezed his hand back and let their joined hands hang between them until their arms grew tired and it was time to make camp. As was now habit, Valis dismounted and set up his own tent while Kerac set up the larger one for himself and Darolen. Darolen went to erect the holy shield over the camp site to keep out predators and bandits.
Once the tent stood tall, Valis began care for the horses. Each had their own personality. His own was even-tempered and gentle. That was what he loved about his gelding. That and the fact he remained absolutely still when Valis mounted or dismounted as Valis was often clumsy just after breakfast or when they finally stopped for the evening. When he reached for Kerac’s silver stallion, the horse pranced away with a playful neigh. He was a bright spot in the gloom, always a proud and beautiful sight, with a good personality and graceful gait. It took offering a bit of dried apple for him to obey so Valis could remove the bridle and saddle. He always remained still for the subsequent brushing as that seemed his favorite thing in the world.
Darolen’s bay mare was as solid, quiet and confident a presence as her rider. She regarded him as he approached and snorted at him until he offered the bit of apple. He soon learned that if he gave to one, he had to give to all seven, or they got complexes. As she munched her apple, she butted her head into his chest and then went back to grazing on the stunted grass. Much like Darolen, she always let her affection show in subtle ways, but every now and again, she needed to show it in more solid butts of her head, or a gentle lipping of his fingers. Something to show she appreciated him and liked having his presence near. He fondled her ears to return the affection, and chuckled when she rubbed her face on his thigh, asking for more pe
tting.
“You’re ruining our horses,” Kerac teased.
“What do you mean?” Valis asked as he went to start brushing Darolen’s mare down.
“You spoil them with fruit and thorough grooming,” he laughed. “I never realized how negligent Darolen and I were with the horses until watching you make them shine brighter than those ridden in royal parades and give them so much affection that they practically bow to your every whim.”
“They carry us and our gear.” Valis shrugged and patted Darolen’s mare’s shoulder. “Just as we deserve the comfort of bedrolls and warm tents, they deserve the comfort of being cared for correctly when they are unburdened.”
“They respect you,” Darolen rumbled. He grinned over at Valis and his dutiful mare. “I think she likes you more than me.”
Valis frowned as he brushed through the mare’s long mane. “Showing mom love made father beat us. Father hated me.” He shrugged again and rubbed the mare’s ear. “I had to give my love to someone. Our horses were the best at giving it back.”
A warm body pressed against his back and arms flowed around him. Instinctively, Valis turned to bury his face in Kerac’s throat, only to find the scent wrong. Darolen hugged him tight and briefly nuzzled into his hair with a rumbled purr of contentment. It left Valis dizzy, and all his worries fled as if they had never been.
Struck dumb, Valis sagged against him and followed through to tuck his face into the curve of the older warrior’s throat. His embrace was just as tender as Kerac’s, but more special because Valis knew it would be a rare and precious thing. He was also stronger and bulkier than Kerac, which made his hugs feel more secure, made Valis feel safer.
“You make us proud,” his gruff voice murmured into Valis’ ear. “Spoil them all you like.” He squeezed him almost painfully, but it felt so good. “Just save some love for us.”
His wits returned, and he wrapped his arms about Darolen’s chest. As he hugged back he let out a contented little rumble of appreciation. He found that Darolen had removed his plate armor and wore only leather pants and a soft cotton shirt. It let him feel every line of muscle in the Paladin’s body. Bolstered by his strength, Valis tucked closer. “I will. I promise.”
To Valis’ surprise, Darolen pressed a kiss to the crown of his head. He squeezed again and let go to shoo him back to his mare’s care. He then left Valis with warm tingles skating along his nerves and went back to his quiet reserve to help Kerac with supper preparations.
Valis returned to his work with a grin. Once he had the mare shining, worked on the pack horses, and had feed bags hung on them all, he joined Kerac and Darolen at the fire. Supper passed in silence. Some daylight still lingered, and they lazed about the fire for a while to let their food settle. Then Darolen stood and gathered his and Kerac’s swords.
“Up you get,” he said to Valis. He handed him Kerac’s sword and motioned with his own toward a bare spot of ground within the shimmering golden shield. “Time for your first lesson.”
With a grunt, Valis got up, took the sword and followed Darolen toward the appointed area. He thought they would be sparring, but instead, Darolen took up a spot next to him a few arm-length’s away. Facing out, he squared his shoulders, planted his feet shoulder-width apart, and motioned for Valis to mimic his stance and movements.
Valis spent the rest of the evening learning sword forms. Darolen came up to him only when he needed physical assistance to get the form perfect. By the time the stars came out, and the moon hung pregnant above them in bone-white splendor, Valis felt like he got trampled by a herd of horses… and maybe a stampede of cattle after. Every muscle ached. His back twinged. His legs felt like jelly beneath him. Sleep had never sounded so good. But he still had to clean Kerac’s sword, wash up a little from how much he sweat, and drink enough water to drown a horse to quench his thirst.
Darolen smirked at him and clapped him on the shoulder. Just that little tap nearly sent Valis sprawling into the grass. “You did well. In the morning, we will all start physical training. Kerac and I have been lax these last few months. You need to build up more strength to wield a sword correctly.”
Valis could only groan and try not to crawl on his hands and knees toward the barely mediocre comfort of his smelly tent.
Chapter Thirteen
Three months of physical training and sword forms twice a day not only built up Valis’ strength and stamina, but it also grew his appetite exponentially. Ravenous, he mowed through their rations like he hadn’t eaten in months. And, he did this three times a day. Their journey slowed to a crawl in the brisk autumn weather, as they had to stop for the midday meal, rather than eating in the saddle.
Neither Aesriphos seemed to mind. Valis grew exceedingly glad of that, even though it embarrassed him. He even resorted to carrying more snacks than just jerky. At the moment, he tore through an apple. A short while ago, he demolished three biscuits. The hour before that, he went through two muffins that they bought in the previous town.
No matter how much he ate, he never felt truly sated. Water went quicker than the air he breathed. Traveling with the two Aesriphos, Valis continued to pick up their language—partly because they taught him, and mostly just by listening and practicing with them in conversation. Now he was good enough to understand most things. Ahead, Darolen murmured to Kerac over his shoulder that he detoured them toward another town to pick up more supplies.
Valis frowned. He cleared his throat of the bit of apple skin and spoke in only slightly broken Arlvorian. “We’ll use the money from selling my farmstead. No more odd jobs for food. I’m making this trip longer than necessary already.”
“You are still growing!” Kerac laughed. “You have another five years or so, yet.”
Valis cocked his head to the side. “I’m eighteen…”
“You are also mageborn,” Darolen said. “You will age slower, live longer, and grow more. Your father is a good head or more taller than you. Have you never noticed how short you are compared to us? How you have to tilt your head up and stand on your toes to tuck your face into our throats?”
“I just thought that was because of regional differences,” Valis said, “like those from most countries in Loron have dark skin while some of our southern countries have bronze and most in the north are fair.”
Kerac nodded as he regarded him. “That could play a part, but I do not think that is wholly the case. And, if what we are thinking is true, it may mean you do possess the inherent abilities of a mage. I think testing is in order when possible.”
“What does the test entail?” Valis found he was more curious than afraid. He knew that Kerac and Darolen would never hurt him unless necessary, and necessary usually only came in their twice-daily training, and never in a way that was permanent or too much to bear. It never interfered with the next morning’s strength training, or the evening’s sparring or forms practice.
“Mostly teaching you simple spells to see if you are able to cast them, I think,” Kerac said. “I do not possess the capacity to test you as the Patron Priest would. We might be able to teach you how to draw upon power, direct your focus, and cast a spell. If it works and you can cast, you have the ability.”
“And if I fail?”
“It may either be latent and waiting,” Darolen said, “or you are a layman with the lucky bonus of a mage’s lifespan, or we have failed in teaching you. We are not experts in any sense of the word when it comes to teaching others.”
Valis tried not to think too hard on that. He laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. “How do you know I’m not just short?”
“Because you eat more than you weigh!” Kerac cackled and pointed at him, his finger indicating the half-eaten apple clutched in one fist, then the satchel of snacks hanging from his shoulder. “Your appetite is a force of nature.”
“I’m not that bad,” Valis groused. “Am I?”
Darolen turned around in his saddle, confident that his mare wouldn’t trot off a cliff and gave him a w
icked grin. “When we first started out, you ate two meals a day, plus a small meal in the saddle.”
Valis wrinkled his nose. Darolen went on. “Now, you have six meals a day, three of them in the saddle.”
Hanging his head, Valis drooped in said saddle. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry!” Kerac cried. “You’re still growing, and you are training hard every day. Before the training, your body was used to a set meal portion and schedule. Now that you are putting your body under the stresses of rigorous training, it requires more fuel. We expected this to some extent when we began your training, Valis.”
He sighed and glanced up at Kerac only to find an amused grin. Somehow that made everything better, and he straightened up again… and finished his browning apple. “How far is the nearest town, do you think? We could eat at a tavern tonight.”
“Oh, no,” Kerac said, suddenly serious. “The threat of your uncle notwithstanding, we are in Sithera now. We get supplies and get out of town as fast as we can before the imperial guards catch wind that we’re foreigners. We must be more alert now than ever, as the closer to Isrivo we get, the more danger we are in.”
“How will they find out? You speak their language perfectly from what I’ve heard.”
Kerac pointed to the horse-drawn wagon that carried his chests full of money. “Your gold is stamped with your country’s emblem. We may need to hide your golden hair, but that may prove useless. It will be a matter of time before the merchants spread word just from the gold. Shortly after, the town will practically crawl with guards wanting to question us and exile us to their nearest border, if we’re lucky.”
“Oh.” That was an understatement. Valis’ stomach turned to ice, and he nodded. “I’ll keep quiet since I only speak Evaki and Arlvorian.”
“Good lad,” Darolen said from the front. “You stay with Kerac, and I will get what we need. We arrive shortly.”