***
Ugoth put his hands over his face. “Oh, gods!”
The confession of the morning had been far easier; he’d approached the sin from the perspective of the perpetrator, which in most men’s view was less condemnatory than that of the one in reception. But with regards to this moving ward, he had just nonverbally admitted that Herfod had been the perpetrator. That Samel understood this distressed Ugoth unutterably.
“We can just stop,” Herfod whispered, guessing what was on his mind. “We were good friends before. I can go back to that.” Not without wrenching out his guts and taking his balls out with them, but he didn’t add this sorry detail. He owed it to Ugoth to give him a choice.
But Ugoth really didn’t have one and said as much. “Well, I can’t!”
He dropped his hands and glared at Herfod. Before he could continue, Marten walked up and offered to pull his boots off. “Go away, Marten!” Ugoth said impatiently.
Marten straightened in surprise.
“I’ll take care of it,” Herfod said. “Go off and relax a bit.”
“But it’s not your duty!”
“I know. Take comfort. You’ll be back in straightening the mess after the bath. He needs to discuss things with me. Go on with you.”
Marten bowed to his liege and walked stiffly out.
“Do you think he knows?” Ugoth wondered.
“Perhaps. Does it matter that much to you?”
“I don’t know!” Ugoth bent and pulled his muddy boots off on his own. “Help me with my armour.”
“Yes, Majesty.”
Herfod’s meekness irritated Ugoth, because if Herfod was meek, he made up for it by being a ferocious arse killer. The son of a bitch. After Herfod had admitted to being Marun’s boy, Ugoth hadn’t pictured him as anything but the submissive, but then Herfod had gone and put a moving ward into his body. With his fucking cock.
“Why are you glaring at me?” the culprit said.
“Oh, shut up. Help me with this chain mail.”
Bewildered, Herfod put the missives down and rose to help Ugoth haul the chain mail off. While Herfod set the armour down on the trunk, Ugoth shrugged out of the padding, then stalked over and tossed the padding on the trunk as well. He stared down at Herfod. Herfod looked up glumly, and the accusation popped out of Ugoth’s mouth despite his determination not to say it.
“A moving ward? You stick a moving ward into me with your prod? What sort of sorry pervert are you? You couldn’t just bless me?”
From glum to outraged in an instant; Herfod shoved his liege hard enough that Ugoth had to fight for his balance. “You were telling me to go ahead and do it again minutes earlier, you capricious fuck!” Herfod hissed.
Ugoth had regretted the outburst the moment he’d said it, but no one called his monarch a capricious fuck and got away with it. He attacked Herfod, performing a tackle rather than a strike. Trying to hit Herfod was like batting at the wind. It was easier to tangle him into knots if you caught him close. But even then, not that easy. Herfod slipped under Ugoth’s lunge and thrust up to the side, where he struck Ugoth down with a blow to his back.
“Ungh!” Ugoth said.
Herfod shoved his knee into Ugoth’s spine and kept the man’s head down by a fistful of golden hair. “Someone gets a hint that you played the butt boy instead of me and you go all righteous?” he snarled into Ugoth’s ear.
Ugoth prickled with tension all over again and not because he was still angry. There was something immensely sensuous about Herfod’s breath licking his ear while he was being forced into a submissive posture. Ugoth remembered how Herfod had taken similar abuse the night before and began to comprehend the reason he had permitted it.
It felt good.
“Go ahead and call me a sorry pervert,” Herfod went on. “I’m not sorry I did it. It was just circumstance my cock was in you. I could as easily have thrown a glow sucking your royal sceptre, you great fool.”
Now that was immensely interesting. There had been sucking last night and kisses in wicked places, but with the blue glow added …? “Could you have? Would you tonight?”
“Oh, shut up!”
The pressure on Ugoth’s back let up. Ugoth rose and glanced toward the warm bath, remembering the smell of dog, thinking it would be nice if Herfod didn’t stink. This time he’d smell like a boar and his own sweat and … and the hidden power beneath his skin.
How did one force the glow to erupt from out of Herfod’s skin? Ugoth considered venturing lower than Herfod’s navel again. “I’ll toss you for who gets the bath first.”
Herfod wasn’t ready to forgive him and refused the gesture. “It’s the king’s bath. You take it.”
“Fine! Next time I won’t offer.” Ugoth stomped away and hauled his undershirt off. He looked back, his thoughts on the naughty suggestion his perturbed lover had planted in his mind. After the bath, there was going to be some much-deserved sucking.
He looked at the grey robe draping Herfod’s hips. That had to come off. “Seal the tent, Herfod. From everything.”
Somewhat mulishly, Herfod uttered the chant. Afterward, he went back to the chair and picked the missives up. He listened to Ugoth splash into the bath as he opened the first of them. “Pigeon handler in Keertip received notice that the secondary Omeran army reached Ildwes a day ago,” he reported.
“Good. They’re marching ahead of schedule. We’ll meet up with them on the Omeran border road in two days.”
Herfod nodded. He opened the second missive. “This is from the general. He reports that our spies are fleeing in advance of the opposing army. Some have purportedly been caught and tortured.”
“Stupid of Marun. They knew nothing.”
“He also says the northern front has been taken. The Omeran vanguard has retreated to Skryrock. It looks as if Marun is turning from it, however.”
“This is not good news,” Ugoth said. “Where is he heading?”
“Toward Volrock.”
“That’s in the direction of the Ester Pass. It looks as if he’s decided to meet us.”
Their eyes met. Herfod looked away first. They both knew why the Shadow Master had redirected the march of his army. “We’ll get out of it before he gets there,” Herfod said. “It’s Forge Mount he heads for.”
“Forge Mount?”
“Ancient temple on the top.”
“Oh. Right.”
Herfod reached across to fetch the missives on Ugoth’s chair. Ugoth’s patience ended. “Leave them! You offered to do Marten’s duty. Come and scrub my back.”
Herfod paused with his fingers above the packet. “What? You can’t scrub your own back, you big baby?”
“Yes, I can scrub my own back! I want you to scrub it.”
“Lazy ass!” Herfod insulted further. “I’ll get my habit wet.”
“Take it off. You’re coming in next in any case.”
“I don’t need a bath. Washed last night.”
“You hunted boar with me today! Gods! What is it with you? The moment you’re free of the monastery, you eschew your duty to cleanliness.”
“Duty. Yes. Cleanliness is such a duty.” Herfod retreated from the papers, rose and stripped his habit off. He tossed it over the chair and started on his multitude of straps.
Ugoth’s expression darkened further. “The bath will be cold by the time you get all that gear off.”
“Just stay in there and warm it for me. You’ve got a hot poker in the water in any case.”
“Little bastard!”
Herfod grinned, but then suddenly sat back down. He proceeded to strap his weapons back on.
“What are you doing?” Ugoth demanded.
“Can’t take a bath now.”
“Why the hells not?”
“Because I have witches to train, idiot. If I go over there, we’ll get distracted. I’m breaking the ward down and calling Marten.”
“No!”
Too late. Herfod pulled the ward down with a word. “M
arten!” he shouted.
As Herfod had expected, Marten had been hovering about the tent, refusing to abandon his duties. He rushed inward. “Yes?” he asked readily.
“King wants you to scrub his back,” Herfod said placidly. He watched, with barely contained glee, Ugoth’s hands cover his rampant lust from Marten’s curious gaze.
“Of course. That’s what I’m supposed to do,” Marten said staunchly. He pulled up his sleeves, grabbed a cloth and proceeded to scrub Ugoth’s back vigorously.
“Of course,” Herfod replied equably. He gazed into Ugoth’s frustrated eyes and smiled. Ugoth’s expression promised he would make him suffer later. Herfod relaxed into the seat with a silent promise to enjoy it. Presently he opened the next missive and informed his king what was written on it.
***
“Took your time!” Zini called as the monk approach in the dusk. “Who’s that with you?”
“His Majesty,” Herfod replied.
She squinted. Yes, it was the king, his guards just behind. “Oh. So you came to watch. I’m surprised he let you after the black spell.”
“Yes, well, he countered it easily enough,” Ugoth said dismissively. “And we’re fairly certain it didn’t come from any of your lot.”
Herfod glanced back, a glint of exasperation in his eyes. “Easily enough?” he repeated. “You think it was easy? I felt like I tore myself in half.”
Ugoth ignored him and surveyed the fallow field chosen for the exercises. The holy brothers had chanted huge glowing balls of blue and hung them from the branches of several trees. The orbs didn’t seem so bright to him just then, but he knew that they’d be sufficient once the last of the sun’s rays had faded.
Near a barn, four groups waited. Monks huddled together in one crowd, currently in the act of praying together. The witches watched from several yards off. Ugoth thought there might be more women than before. Uma’s summoning yet gathered them in.
A small congregation of locals gawped near a barn corner, some of them female and pretty. More folk walked in their direction along a rutted path. Further off, a church spire peeked above the tree line. A decent-sized village rested over there, but Ugoth had ordered the camp leaders to keep the men away from it. He didn’t need the trouble that always followed in the morning. Soldiers at war could be selfish and cruel, often at the same time. Ugoth wouldn’t have the men of his army behaving that way on home territory outside of a battle.
The last group in the field consisted of soldiers standing near a stack of empty barrels, which were heaped alongside a pile of fuses and unlit torches. The dragon watch had prepared themselves as he’d instructed.
“Which of the women did you pick for the dragon watch?” Herfod asked Zini. The woman rattled off a list of witches. Herfod’s brow wrinkled and he ordered several off the duty. “Those are our better spell casters,” he explained. “Let’s keep the flighty younger ones on this.”
Zini nodded agreement. The younger witches would be adequate for this duty.
“I see you have some new recruits,” Herfod said.
“Yes, five in the last day. They were waiting for us to come north. There are some others that Samel paired up before you came back.”
“Has Samel teamed these new five with anyone?”
“Samel? Samel switched us all about!” she cried. “You should pair them.”
Herfod sighed. “Where is he, then? I’m supposed to have him about.”
“In the middle of the monks, praying the evening service. You’d think the gods would waive it for one night.”
“Not likely,” Herfod responded blandly.
“Why don’t I ever see you praying services?” she asked.
“I get too busy usually. Why did Samel switch you about?”
“How should I know? All I know is everyone has been messing up since.”
“That’s not like Brother Samel,” Ugoth put in. “He’s a firm proponent of if it’s not broken, don’t fix it.”
Herfod agreed. “You aren’t telling me everything, Zini,” he said. Zini had the grace to look uncomfortable.
“I recall Samel mentioning teasing,” Ugoth added.
“Yes, I recall that too.” Herfod folded his arms and eyed the uneasy witch.
“There has been some teasing,” she admitted. “But they didn’t mean anything by it.”
“Did you tell them to stop?”
“Yes, but when Samel switched us all about, it just got worse. The women are all frustrated by the constant failures now. They rile the monks for it.”
“And what about Uma?”
“Oh, she’s back there giving them another talking to. Not that it will do much good. That lot are pretty fed up.”
“All right, I’ll go give it a shot.” Herfod unfolded his arms and headed toward the coven, but paused after a few steps, rethinking his choices. “Call them over here, Zini. They’re too close to the monks for an honest chat.”
“An honest chat? You mean you’re not going to bellow about their whorish ways?” Zini snapped.
“Whorish? Did Samel bellow the word whorish?”
“He did!” Zini assured hotly.
Herfod hid the dismay he felt. Samel seldom bellowed unless he was worried, about him in particular, but that the aging monk had actually used the word whorish spoke of a level of concern that surpassed anything resembling normal. “Whorish?” Herfod said, grinning falsely. “There’s a laugh! Bunch of frigid fish.”
Zini blushed. “We are not. We just can’t take the risk with men.”
Herfod laughed. “Come on, woman. I’m teasing. Get off with you and call them here.”
Zini glowered at him. Feeling sick with guilt over Samel, for whose behaviour he was at fault, Herfod watched her thump over to the group and demand attention. He felt Ugoth lean closer at his back.
“Teasing?” the king murmured, breath shivering into Herfod’s ear. Oh, that felt nice. “You admit to being a tease?”
“I admit nothing.”
“You’ll pay for what you did earlier. Tease!”
“Promise?”
“Tease,” Ugoth called him again, but Herfod knew he was smiling. They had no time for more banter, however. The witches surrounded them.
“Well?” Uma demanded. “What do you want to say to this lot?”
“I’ll be getting Samel to put you back with the fellows I started you with,” he informed them right off. A number of approving voices lauded him for his astuteness, but he brushed the praise off with his next pronouncement. “But the teasing has to stop! You think teasing the holy brothers will help us win this war?”
“We didn’t mean anything by it,” a woman protested.
“You think?” he retorted. “Keep your mouths shut during training and take your frustrations out on each other after. The brothers have enough trouble with the vow of abstinence without you torturing them. You think Samel switched you for nothing? He was probably protecting the ones who almost broke.”
The women became very silent. One of them stepped forward. “I didn’t mean to! I love him!” she confessed, her expression pleading.
Herfod stared at her. After brief moment, he spoke. “Do you love him enough to die fighting with him?”
She blinked back tears and nodded.
“Then leave off torturing him. You can change what needs to be changed in your lives after the war, if you’re still willing to take that risk.” He surveyed their grave countenances. “Anyone else with this problem?”
“Me!” someone cried.
Herfod peered into the crowd, searching for the speaker. Pell step forward. He almost laughed, but held it in somehow. “And who are you in love with?” he just had to ask.
“You!” she said, her gaze swallowing him.
He did laugh then. “Get in the line with the rest.” Laughter broke the group silence. Pell grinned at him. “You irrepressible tease,” he named her.
“But is it working?” she asked.
“No!” the
king snarled.
Startled, Pell looked at His Majesty, to discover that he glowered fit to shoot lightning from his jewel eyes. Pell backed into the women. “I didn’t mean anything by it!”
“Oh, ignore him,” Herfod said. “He has no sense of humour these days.” He stomped forward a pace. Time to get to work before Ugoth had a fit. “All right.” He listed the names of the women chosen for the dragon watch. “You lot go into the middle of the field. I’ll be with you momentarily.”
A small group of younger witches broke off from the crowd, Pell amongst them, and walked away.
“The ones who have already been paired, go get the monk you were with before Brother Samel altered the pairing. Remember! Stay polite and impersonal. We are but weeks from the front. Practice on the further end of the field, but keep it short for this night. We have our supper coming soon.”
With many earnest promises, the women moved back to the barn and the waiting holy brothers.
“Fine,” Herfod muttered, scrutinizing the unintroduced group of about a dozen witches. “Uma? Did you find out what they’re good at?”
“Yes, I have the list here.” She pulled it out of her apron and handed it to him. Herfod scanned the names and strengths. He sent two to the dragon watch. The rest he contemplated for several minutes. Uma crept behind him and nudged the king. “See? He’s doing it,” she whispered up.
“Doing what?”
“Seeing who to pair them with. It’s like magic. He just has to look.”
“Would you stop hissing back there?” Herfod complained. “You’re distracting me.” And he didn’t want the distraction right now. One of them had a very odd aura, rather too bland for a witch.
His watchers shut up, and eventually Herfod finished his perusal of the women. By then they were all uncomfortable. He singled out the anomalous one. His expression wasn’t pleasant. “I’m going to let you run,” he told her.
“What?” She was an older woman. Clean and dressed in sturdy peasant’s garb, outwardly she seemed little different from the others, but her aura had been spelled to hide her true alignment, and Herfod had at last discerned this fact.
Bound in Stone 3 Page 22