Scorpion

by Aleksandr Voinov

  “It’s a good thought,” the Lady Protector said. “We wouldn’t be waiting for an attack but carrying the fight to the enemy.”

  “If I had the full number of Scorpions, they could go and do it,” Adrastes said slowly, his gaze resting on Kendras, who felt that gaze like a weight. “But they paid enough blood. And they are weakened. I’m not going to lose the last four I have.”

  “I’d do it.”

  “I know, Kendras.” Adrastes shook his head. “But don’t. I need you here.”

  A murmur rose among the courtiers, others fell silent. Kendras bowed. “As you wish.” Doing nothing was beginning to drive him up the wall. Doing nothing while he was healing was one thing, but this began to feel like there was nothing he could do, like he was kept safe rather than sent into battle or entrusted with a mission. What had he turned into? The pleasure boy of the Lord Protector? He swallowed that anger and schooled his features. He had to trust Adrastes to trust him and make use of him outside the bed chamber. It wasn’t easy.

  He left the Round Chamber once he could and met up with Dev and Riktan to train and fight. Afterward, he retreated to the quarters he shared with Adrastes for a bath to relax his tired muscles. Restless. He needed the battle to start. Soon. When the door opened again, he expected Adrastes, but it was merely a group of servants, bringing him the completed armor.

  Simple black and made to fit him perfectly just like the leathers, which were even padded where most of the armor’s weight would rest on his shoulder and collarbones. Patterns had been worked into the leather, which was much more finely cured than the old leathers he’d been wearing. The padding on his shoulders had seams that formed the pattern of two scorpions crawling toward his neck from both sides.

  Kendras smiled with the memory of how Adrastes had placed that scorpion on his shoulders so it would sting him. He still vividly remembered the pain and would never be able to shed that memory. It reminded him that death could come from an angle he hadn’t expected and took no longer than a heartbeat. Above all, it told him he’d die if he ever stopped fighting for his life.

  “Do you like it?” Adrastes asked from the door.

  “Scorpions?” Kendras pointed at his left shoulder, the leathers hidden under the armor. “Are we still?”

  Adrastes hesitated. “You’ll always be a Scorpion, Kendras. Me, I’m not so sure anymore.” He grimaced. “I’ll find a solution to this. But… stay with me.”

  As if he could leave. Kendras lowered his hands to the belt and tightened it one hole and adjusted the sheath of his sword.

  “It will suit me well for battle,” he said, aware that wasn’t an answer, let alone what Adrastes wanted to hear. But what kind of life could he have here? In Fetin, all he could be was the man who warmed the Lord Protector’s bed. Not that there weren’t men who would have been satisfied with that.

  But what about the Scorpions? What about their long history, the rituals? Would the dead approve of them sitting here and waiting until all they’d been flickered out like a candle that had devoured itself? “I’ll show it to Dev and Riktan. And Selvan.”

  Adrastes hesitated. “Are you coming back?”

  Are you coming with me? Kendras thought. Are you? He shrugged. “It might be late.”

  “I’ll be here.” Adrastes motioned a servant to prepare him a bath, and Kendras walked out.

  RIKTAN and Dev had settled in a part of the Flames barracks that the Lady Protector’s guard seemingly didn’t need.

  Selvan was there, too, looking after them as he would, and there was a tanesh that had to be the one that had caught Riktan’s attention.

  Defiance flashed in green eyes under short-shorn blond hair when Riktan, half-joking, gave him an order and a pat on the rump, and Kendras felt a trickle of excitement in his guts. The tanesh was sinewy and strong enough to wear the Flame armor. He should be good enough to wear the kit of a Scorpion. But above all, he could see Riktan’s grudging respect to a man who wasn’t quite a full man anymore—doubtless, that respect had been earned in some way that had nothing to do with lying on his back.

  “Ah, Kendras has come to drink with us,” Dev said and tossed Kendras a wine skin. “Seems the officer’s now too good to do that.”

  Calculation flashed in Dev’s eyes when he said it. Testing the waters. Mutiny? Kendras weighed the wine skin. Pretend he hadn’t heard it? He’d appear like a coward. Confront Dev over what could just be banter? If they did have to fight tomorrow, internal strife was the last thing they needed.

  “You’re talking shit, Dev,” he said with a grin and took a deep draught from the wine, which was spiced and sweetened heavily to mask the sour taste. “Takes a special man to listen to the fawning courtiers all day. I don’t envy him.”

  Dev gave him a sharp grin, as if he understood perfectly what went on in Kendras’s head, and Kendras didn’t mind. He wasn’t a spy or a courtier. He told it as he saw it. His way of lying was to remain silent.

  But that night, he drank with them and joked, telling old stories mostly for the benefit of the tanesh, who seemed intrigued and sharp-witted. When they’d run out of wine, Dev offered to get more, but returned after a while admitting that he was too drunk to find his way around in the dark.

  Kendras slept in the quarters with them, and listened to Riktan and the tanesh fuck, too lazy to join them, even though Dev apparently did. Their whispers kept him awake, and he thought he saw their bodies intertwine. He didn’t look too closely—the mutilated cock and balls of a tanesh still filled him with unease—but judging from the sounds that Riktan made, the tanesh did just fine without.

  It took a while to piece the image together in the dark, but apparently the tanesh was fucking him with his tongue, and when Riktan was desperate enough to beg, Dev used his cock on Riktan, but didn’t finish, and before long, Dev was fucking the tanesh from one end and Riktan from the other.

  When they had fallen silent, Selvan came into his bed to take care of him. Holding the shuddering slave after the sex, Kendras thought he couldn’t simply leave them. In too many ways, this was where he belonged. He was a warrior, at least until he’d be too old. He was one of them, and not a courtier. Just watching and doing nothing—being kept away from danger and combat, even—was not what he was. It didn’t make any of this easier.

  Chapter 23

  “LOOK at that,” Riktan said next to him.

  Kendras wished he didn’t have to. First, the sun was awfully bright, but even as he stood there on the battlements, there was nothing down there he liked. Just beyond reach for their arrows and crossbow bolts, the first Dalmanye troops were beginning to set up camps while cavalry guarded them on the open plain. Considering that this was the exact same spot where the other Scorpions had died in blood and gore, he felt a dark dread creep up into his throat. Like a taste from a night shadow. He didn’t like it. He still awoke too often with the knowledge they were all dead. Still smelled the rotting blood and remembered the putrefying flesh of his comrades. Last night’s wine felt sour in his stomach.

  “Seems they’re not sure what to do,” he murmured and nodded toward a Flame officer who was quite clearly arguing with the Lord Protector. Did she want to ride out and crush them? Felt they should do it now before the Dalmanye had made themselves a nest? Kendras agreed with her, or at least, he could feel the same restlessness burn in his muscles.

  Riktan narrowed his eyes. “There’s plenty of time to clear our heads before we have to slaughter those assholes. Let’s get more wine.”

  They found a tavern that served a decent enough wine and solid food, which helped lift the haze from Kendras’s brain. He listened to the nervous chatter of the serving girls and other patrons, two of them traders that were anxious to leave the city again while swilling their beers.

  “What are we going to do after this, Kendras?” Dev asked.

  “First we have to survive this battle,” Kendras murmured, staring into the rest of his wine. The red liquid looked dull and viscous at the bott
om of the mug. He pushed it away. “We’ll go on. What we’ve always done. The officer might just release himself to life. It happens.”

  Dev glanced between them. “I don’t like it.”

  “Who does, Dev?” Kendras asked.

  They trained together again, watched closely by the tanesh, who took up one of the practice weapons and worked with them. He was fast and precise, and gave Kendras a grin when he told him that to join the Scorpions, he would have to fight two.

  “He managed that alright last night,” Riktan grinned.

  Kendras laughed, and saw that the tanesh took it in good humor. The more he knew about him, the more he liked him. Balls or no balls, he’d make a good addition.

  Which brought up the question who would decide that. As long as Adrastes was not only tied up with politics, but doubting, they were locked in this situation. Somebody had to make those decisions, but Kendras didn’t like the feeling they were looking to him to make them. Or maybe they merely expected him to talk some sense into the officer. They needed a new recruit—or really a dozen—but somebody had to do it.

  He left the others to clean up and relax after the exercise and went back into the citadel. He found Adrastes in the Round Chamber talking to Widow, who wore dark riding clothes, had a length of rope slung across his back, and was just slipping two long blades into the cuffs of his shirt. They looked up, and Adrastes nodded to Widow. “That’s really all.”

  Widow looked between them. “Do you need any heads as proof?”

  “Your grin will be proof enough,” Adrastes said. “Until tomorrow, Widowmaker. Be safe.”

  “Enjoy,” Widow said dryly and walked off.

  Adrastes waited for a moment, then concentrated on Kendras. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it and just invited Kendras to sit down. He didn’t speak, just sat down himself.

  “He’s off to kill people?”

  “He volunteered. Seems some of us are going stir-crazy.”

  Kendras nodded. “Yes, we are.”

  “Where were you last night?”

  “With the others.” Where you should have been, Kendras thought, but managed to hold the rest back. “Riktan has found a recruit.”

  “What do you think of him?”

  “He’d fit. He’s currently with the Flames but seems bored by it.”

  “Then take him to the side and explain.”

  “You should do that.”

  “No, Kendras, I shouldn’t.” Adrastes inhaled, then exhaled audibly. “I won’t be the same, ever again. I can’t be both. This place needs me. You don’t need me.”

  “No!” Kendras snapped, aware he’d almost shouted, and he stood and stepped back. He lifted his hands. “No. Don’t say it.”

  “The Scorpions can go on without me. I can’t lead them like they deserve. I’m not much of an officer right now, and I can’t even tell how long this will last. If everything goes according to plan, I will not be able to do it anymore.”

  Kendras stood dumbstruck, then his mind raced ahead, and back, across memories and wishes and desires he’d had. What he’d wanted to return to was now forever in the past. He couldn’t go back.

  “It’s not right to lie to you, Kendras.”

  “What am I supposed to do?”

  “What you’re already doing. Lead them.”

  Kendras shook his head. He wasn’t. He’d just… well, maybe he had. But it was not something he enjoyed.

  “They’ll follow you. You’re the oldest survivor, but above all, they will follow.”

  And what about us, then? Kendras felt his guts tighten and turn to stone. The wine had made him nauseous, or maybe the training in the heat outside. “The Dalmanye arrive in force… when?”

  “Tomorrow.” Adrastes rubbed his face. “Sleep with me tonight.”

  No use fighting over this. The decision was made, and it certainly couldn’t be changed before the battle was decided. And it would be unnecessary to change anything if one of them died in battle.

  He followed Adrastes into his quarters. Sex was slow and deliberate. A few times Kendras tried to change that, because there was still something in his heart like fierce anger, but Adrastes wrestled him down onto the bed and continued to tease him. When Kendras didn’t give up—and wasn’t that ironic—Adrastes tied him down, spread-eagled on the bed.

  Lovemaking with his hands and legs bound was nothing Kendras knew, and he should have been disquieted, but somehow with Adrastes, the memory of the executioner didn’t matter. It was strange to arch and groan into those touches and kisses, and watch his lover please him, but nothing he did seemed to matter in the least. Adrastes took his fill, kissing, licking, sucking and stroking, relaxing his body and then gradually making him tense up again until he knew that the slightest touch to his cock would set him off.

  He asked for that touch, and Adrastes lay down on top of him, kissed him and jerked them both off at the same time. In the haze of orgasm, Kendras heard “I love you,” but couldn’t respond, too overwhelmed and then too exhausted and too sated to say anything.

  They were still getting ready in the morning when a Flame soldier knocked and entered, not blinking even once when she saw both of them still getting into their leathers. “The Dalmanye ships have arrived.”

  “I’ll be there shortly,” Adrastes said and dismissed her, then turned to Kendras. “Take the memory. Write what needs to be written. Then talk to the new recruit about what it means.”

  “I’m still following your orders,” Kendras said.

  Adrastes grinned. “That is because you enjoy that.”

  Kendras bared his teeth and pulled the leathers tighter. It was only too true. Power was a game in bed at least. And while Adrastes came hard when he was being pushed down and fucked like he was nobody special, he, too, could enjoy the exact same thing. Maybe that meant they’d never fight seriously—because they could struggle and strain in bed and then accept the result, whichever way it fell.

  They headed to the battlements, and saw the main Dalmanye force wash into the camp borders. The sun gleamed on polished helmets and the wind tugged at blue tabards everywhere. The ocean priests had to have mustered most of their troops, or maybe they’d dressed up mercenaries and standard Dalmanye soldiers in the blue of the gods to increase their numbers. Even so, it was an impressive display.

  A speck of red was moving between the troops, and Adrastes spotted him at the same time.

  “The king’s there. That’s excellent.”

  “Thought you’d have him killed,” Kendras said.

  “No.” Adrastes smiled. “To the contrary.”

  The Lady Protector arrived on the battlements, her heavy helmet tugged under her arm. “Good morning. Do you think they will make an attempt on the walls today?”

  “Maybe. I can’t see them building siege engines, but that might be for different reasons.”

  “Is that what you needed Widowmaker for yesterday?”

  “Let’s say there are now more engineer widows and widowers than there were yesterday.”

  They’d struggle replacing those. Building siege engines was complex and required a lot of experience. Only a handful of people possessed that knowledge at all.

  “Good thought,” the Lady Protector said. “What now?”

  “Now I’ll try my hand at diplomacy.”

  She lifted an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

  “Yes.” Adrastes smiled. “If you would lend me a few of your Flames.”

  “You can have them.”

  “Thank you. Kendras, summon the other Scorpions. We’re riding out to meet the enemy.”

  Kendras snapped a salute and turned to get Dev and Riktan, who were itching for a fight and followed him in a rush.

  They mounted horses outside the citadel, where a dozen Flames were already mounted and ready. Adrastes led them outside the gate, but he ordered the guards at the gate to keep them open, in case, as he put it “they might return faster than expected.”

  Guards in the enem
y camp blew horns in warning signals. They rode slowly, no faster than a man would walk, then stopped at half the distance between Fetin and the Dalmanye camp, waiting and watching for arrows being cocked, or a cavalry charge that would seek to sweep them up and then crush them.

  Finally, a single unarmed rider came toward them. He must be a novice in the temple, Kendras thought.

  “What… who are you?” The boy asked.

  “Adrastes, Lord Protector of Fetin. I wish to speak to the high priest and your king.”

  The boy stared at him, mouth agape, but eventually recovered enough from his surprise to turn the horse and gallop back to camp like he’d seen a demon.

  “Should I be flattered?” Adrastes remarked, more to himself, but Kendras couldn’t hide the grin.

  It seemed to take much too long, as if there were fierce disagreements in the Dalmanye camp, but finally a group of riders assembled. For every Flame and Scorpion, there were at least two temple guards, but in their midst rode the high priest and the king.

  Vistar An Grekaran looked pale, like he hadn’t slept in a long time or found the burden of command too strenuous. Kendras remembered what Steel had said about the relationship between the king and the high priest and decided he didn’t want to think about it.

  Speaking of Steel—the temple guards all wore helmets, but Kendras assumed that one of them might be Steel. If he were the mercenary, he’d definitely want to be out there when the leaders talked.

  “You say you’re Adrastes of Fetin,” the high priest said.

  “I am Adrastes of Fetin, first son of Lord Protector Ashangul, husband and brother to the Lady Protector.”

  The high priest paused, studying his features. “You have changed a lot since then, Adrastes.” There was a twisted tenderness and warmth in the man’s voice.

  “It’s good that you recognize me, finally.” Adrastes’s lips quirked, but the smile was cynical and sharp. “Or at least acknowledge it.”

  “Well….” The high priest spread his hands. “You were a good fit as the sacred warrior. Gods-hallowed fighter, an inspiration to the faithful.”