by T. A. Miles
“Well, you’ve certainly won them,” Merran commented as Korsten seated himself at the table the other mage had been haunting the whole while.
“Yes, well I think it’s your turn to promote good will, my friend,” Korsten replied, accepting the tumbler of frothy ale one of the barmaids placed before him. “Can’t you tell them a dismal tale or something?”
“You’ve transformed a great deal in the time since I met you.”
“I’ve transformed a great deal in the time since I’ve met myself,” Korsten returned. “The child I knew never would have performed anything more than a disappearing act before an audience comprised entirely of family, let alone strangers. I don’t know what’s come over me, except that you seemed a little too interested in staying and typically lacked diplomatic flair.”
“It is recommended that even we seek proper rest and nourishment from time to time.”
“Is it? Well, I wouldn’t know anything about that at the moment.”
Merran gave him a very little smile, opting not to continue their discussion as another young woman arrived at the table and began massaging Korsten’s shoulders, exposed now as he’d long ago abandoned his jacket. Her hands weren’t lacking skill, but Korsten could think of who he’d rather have attending to him, soothing more than his aching muscles. Not this trip, Korsten thought, studying his fellow mage. Perhaps not ever again. He’s trying to be helpful, I know, but it’s irresponsible of me all the same, and an undeserved way out of feeling the pain I’ve brought upon myself. He’s right, though; this acting isn’t me. I’d rather be somewhere silent. I’d rather be…. Korsten turned one arm over and examined the faint discolored line drawn upon his pale skin, just one of the scars Renmyr had given him. The barmaid behind his chair began to speak and he quickly rolled the scar out of view. She began to comment on how well put together Korsten happened to be and he pretended to be flattered as well as interested. He wasn’t prepared for her to drop into his lap and begin shamelessly kissing him, but he thought it best to let her for now. Much later he even let her accompany him to his room and into his bed, where intimate activities began but were never finished. Long before circumstances became critical, Korsten pretended to pass out drunk. His hopeful lover tried numerous tactics for bringing him back around, but eventually resigned herself to the fact that she would be getting no more attention from her pretty stranger. She slept in his bed since she was there, but left him early and, judging by the looks he received and comments he overheard before he and Merran left the following morning, the young lady fashioned her own story of just what went on in the night. A very colorful one, from the sound and look of things.
Two chattering ladies said something about ‘six times’ while casting conspicuous glances at the redhead walking past them and Korsten felt more than a little embarrassed. Fortunately, he’d never been prone to blushing. He rarely blushed for anyone … unless drunk. He had turned red on a number of occasions for Renmyr, who he still loved deeply, in spite of the years that marked their separation. Of course, time felt different to him now. He scarcely felt a week older than he had been upon leaving Haddowyn and becoming a mage. His body and mind both remained young and his memories of Renmyr were still vivid. All of them.
“What happened back there?” Korsten asked seriously, once he and Merran were on their way again, taking the road out of Bersiene, directly toward Lilende.
“That village had its turn playing with demons near a decade ago,” the other mage answered, evidently having gathered information while Korsten busied himself with being a fool before an audience. At least Merran had found something useful to do besides observe. “It was freed and many lives were spared, but the people only remember the damage, as is so often the case. There are times when even successes count as defeats.”
“Perhaps too many,” Korsten said delicately. He offered a space of silence before saying, “The Vadryn truly are a plague. I’m beginning to think that the explanation of what happened in Vassenleigh was no lie after all, or even a cryptically worded truth, but plain fact. Disease claimed that town, and now it would claim all of Edrinor.”
“Not all of Edrinor,” Merran corrected. “Not so long as even one mage endeavors to stop it.”
“That sounds like Ashwin’s optimism,” Korsten commented.
And Merran said accurately, “ Ashwin is a source of inspiration to many of us.”
The landscape was changing a few hours before sunset on the third day since leaving Bersiene. The lush grasslands were becoming home to more trees and other vegetation, gradually forming a forest around the travelers, whose only concern was that it would be darker come nightfall with a canopy to block out the moon. The road continued on, wending through the darkening woods. Lantern spells became necessary in order to discern the path and casting light only cast more shadows, blind patches that invoked the imagination, allowing Korsten to see demons peering back at him. His resolve was not what Merran’s was, not anywhere near it. He felt increasingly apprehensive as they moved along, which was the same as drawing cuts upon his flesh. The Vadryn could smell his fear and track it, as if it were blood. He feared that he would be of no use to his companion on this mission. Reacting favorably, and on instinct, to one attack did not guarantee that he wouldn’t panic with the next. He was going to get them both killed.
Merran, who’d been pacing him as they moved slowly through the forest, reined in suddenly, prompting Korsten to do the same. Before he could ask the other mage what the trouble was, Merran reached out and touched Korsten’s arm. In the silence that followed their first contact in days, Merran lifted his hand to Korsten’s face, gently tracing the delicate shape of his cheek. Their skin was touching now, forcing Korsten to be calm through the other man’s magic.
“There is nothing here, but us,” Merran told him, adding patiently, “Relax.”
Korsten did, mostly because he didn’t have a choice, and he closed his eyes as well, leaning helplessly into the other man’s healing touch. “I can’t help being afraid of them.” He turned his face a little, feeling a stirring in him. Just before he kissed the hand touching him, Merran pulled away.
“Trust yourself,” his friend said. “You are needed.”
Korsten opened his eyes, and looked away, feeling a little embarrassed. “I’m terrified of what we may find at Lilende. I won’t lie about that … but I want to help in this. I want to be a part of this war … because Renmyr is. Perhaps that’s the wrong motivation.”
“It’s motivation,” Merran replied noncommittally. “That will have to be enough, for now. Besides, that way of thinking has brought you this far.”
Still without looking at him, Korsten touched Merran’s wrist without touching his skin and squeezed it gently before letting go. “Thank you for your understanding,” he said and started forward again.
Merran followed suit. Neither of them said anything more for a long time. And then it started to rain. Korsten washed away the tears that streaked his face by tilting back his head. He laughed a little when it began pouring, then found himself thoroughly amused when he looked back at Merran and saw him drenched.
“You should have a look at yourself,” the dark-clad mage grumbled.
Korsten stopped laughing and pushed back some of the hair that was suddenly weighing in front of his face, the curl completely gone, stretching it nearly to his chin. The rest of his hair hung down with even less grace and he imagined that he did look quite dreadful.
“I see that vanity is still your strongest suit,” Merran commented, smirking enough to make Korsten glare at him, though not with any real enthusiasm.
“And you’re still as smug as ever. We’ll see how amused both of us are when we’re sick with chill.”
“We’ll be fine,” Merran declared with annoying certainty. While Korsten continued to glare at him, he added, “I’m sure you read how nourishment from the blood lilies improves our con
stitutions.”
Giving his gaze back to the darkened road ahead of them, Korsten said, “I must have overlooked it.” Suddenly he was eager to get back to Vassenleigh, to the library, where he could reread the manuscripts and ask Ashwin to open new ones in warmth and solitude.
Warmth and solitude … Ashwin could be that by himself, when he wasn’t in a mood for teaching harsh lessons. Renmyr had provided such shelter once. He could be very loving … it seemed sometimes.
“This house feels empty,” Renmyr commented, hesitating in the foyer as he realized that it wasn’t Markam who’d granted him entrance. “More empty than usual. I know you keep the smallest staff of any noble in Haddowyn, maybe all of Edrinor, but the servants are usually out where everyone can see them.”
Korsten chuckled on his way toward the main room, where he’d recently been enjoying a quiet read in front of its hearth that was much larger than those in any of the other rooms. He was dressed simply in a shirt and breeches, and in his stocking feet. To be honest, he hadn’t been expecting company on this particular winter day, but Ren was always welcome. “Markam, Donnel, and Penna all have family,” Korsten explained. “I always give them Solstice off, since I spend most of the day and evening at the manor. I decided to give them the evening before as well.”
Korsten lowered himself back down onto the pillows he’d spread across the floor in front of the hearth, prepared to resume his reading, assuming Renmyr would help himself to a drink to warm him up. He was pleasantly surprised when his lover lay down beside him instead, his pose mirroring Korsten’s, who lay on his stomach, propped on his elbows.
“What are we reading?” Renmyr decided to ask, as if genuinely interested.
Korsten was more than willing to satisfy the other man’s curiosity. “A history of….”
Renmyr slowly closed the book and pushed it away. While Korsten just looked at him, he smiled a little, and said, “Am I the only one who recognizes a very rare opportunity? I could kiss you right here, in the middle of the day, in the main room of your house, and no one would be any the wiser.”
“Wouldn’t they?” Korsten asked, smiling now himself. He shifted onto his side, resting his face against a loose fist. “What if someone saw you come here, and knew that I’d sent the servants away? Wouldn’t they begin to wonder if you stay too long?”
“They should already wonder that I made the trip here to begin with in such unfavorable weather. Have you seen how fast the snow is coming down?”
“You were hoping to get stranded here,” Korsten replied knowingly.
“Yes,” Renmyr admitted. “And I was hoping to steal into your room for a few hours during the night.”
“And now we have the entire house to ourselves,” Korsten observed needlessly, then closed his eyes when Renmyr came forward to kiss him.
“I hardly know where to begin,” Renmyr said, setting his hand on Korsten’s waist, engaging his mouth again while that hand drifted over Korsten’s hip. Korsten leaned toward his lover, who drew his leg to him and over him in such a way that Renmyr’s hip settled against his groin. Still kissing him, Renmyr began to move against Korsten, successfully taking his breath from him.
Korsten put space between their mouths so that he could breathe, but remained close with one hand on Renmyr’s neck, feeling his heated pulse while he continued to stimulate with his steady movement. Korsten became aware of small sounds emitting from his throat. Renmyr’s hand held him in place for a few moments more, then gently rolled him onto his back.
“We can do this now,” Korsten whispered, gazing softly up at Renmyr. “And you can stay the night, but you can’t be in my bed come daylight. I fear it will spoil what we have, knowing what it’s like to have you that completely.”
Renmyr didn’t answer. He rose to undress himself. Korsten watched him for a moment, then sat up and stripped out of his own clothing. Even as close to the hearth as he happened to be, he still felt a chill against his bare skin and was glad when Renmyr lowered again beside him, heating him just with his nearness.
“We’ll be in separate beds come morning,” Renmyr finally said, touching Korsten with his eyes before finally lifting a hand to his face. “But until then we have all day and all this night to lie with each other. Time enough for me to do more than love you.” He leaned close, kissing Korsten very softly. Then he whispered, “I want to hold you without the worry that someone may discover us. I want you to lay peacefully in my arms, knowing that there is no rush to separate.” Korsten’s eyes very suddenly warmed with tears, and Renmyr said gently, “I love you, Kor. Someday I’ll prove to you just how much.”
Korsten sighed unhappily as he came out of his memories. I knew your feelings, Ren. I didn’t require any proof. And what you have shown me isn’t proof of love, but evidence of madness. I can’t blame you, Ren, for what’s controlling you, but I can blame you for allowing it to. And I do. You knew better. If you’d have come to me, I would have reminded you of that. But you never shared your plans. You simply acted on them. And now look at us … enemies? Are we, Ren? I could never hurt you. I would have thought once that you could never hurt me, but … the beast in you would have killed me that night I returned to Haddowyn. You walked away and were going to let me die, alone. Damn you, Ren.
Tears were threatening to form. Korsten decided to give his attention to his immediate surroundings, noting that dawn was breaking, casting the woods in a gray mist after the night’s rain. Very soon the gray mist was joined by gray stone, the neatly stacked, thatch-topped buildings of Lilende, a small city hidden in a woods. Korsten thought he heard a river nearby. Merran confirmed it with words.
“The Bizan River lies just to the north of town,” the darker mage was saying. “The keep sits on a cliff that overlooks it. The road gets steep and in adverse weather the ride can be treacherous.”
Korsten looked up at the glimpses of sky visible through the heavy forest canopy. “It may rain again.”
Merran nodded. “We’ll rest indoors until nightfall. If the weather’s clear and it hasn’t rained enough to make the road treacherous, we’ll make our way to the keep then.”
Korsten agreed with a nod of his own and let his friend lead him to their temporary shelter, which turned out to be an overcrowded tavern with all the seediness of Brenwick’s, but none of the homey appeal. Because this isn’t home, Korsten told himself as they made a selective path through the crowd toward a distant unoccupied corner table. Leave it to Merran to select the farthest seat from the front door and fresher air than what I’m trying not to swallow now. At least everyone looks too busy drinking themselves silly to notice us. After nearly an hour of sitting in Merran’s remote corner, Korsten began to wonder if his last thought didn’t include the barmaids as well. He didn’t know if he was actually hungry, but he wouldn’t be opposed to a little drink about now.
It was then, as if reading Korsten’s thoughts, that a sturdy-looking lass of about seventeen or eighteen arrived at their table. She was actually rather small of frame, but wiry like tavern wenches usually weren’t and tough in tone as well as expression. “You boys look about soaked through,” she said, letting her greenish eyes stick longest on Korsten. There seemed no admiration there. Perhaps curiosity and maybe a little pity as well, which inspired Korsten to organize himself … to attempt it at any rate. Still watching him, the young woman with sun-darkened skin and dark brown hair added, “Wouldn’t you prefer a place nearer to the fire?”
“We’re fine here,” Merran said, managing to draw her gaze away from Korsten.
“All right,” the girl agreed easily. “Do you want anything? About all I can offer you is Osley’s ale and his stew, one aged a hell of a lot better than the other.”
Korsten and Merran exchanged glances and each decided on an ale. The girl left with no promises that she would be back anytime soon. Odd, but refreshing. Korsten had long ago had his fill of women like Calla
or the maid in Bersiene, all too eager to offer themselves along with the ale. Not that this poor girl would have had much success being taken even after a long night drinking. She wasn’t ugly, but she was extremely rigid, unsmiling, and not particularly inviting. Korsten couldn’t blame her for that. He personally didn’t know how any woman could stomach much less enjoy being violated by every word, gaze, and hand that passed in her direction under circumstances like these. The atmosphere was positively vile.
“From here on we must be constantly on our guard,” Merran said, as if to point out that Korsten was not. “There may be a demon here, but even if there isn’t, there is an enemy.”
Korsten leaned forward, bracing his elbow upon the edge of the table and placing his chin in his hand. Smiling faintly, he said to his colleague, “Let’s try not to make that enemy the local constable.”
Merran scarcely glanced at him, giving his very blue eyes to the individuals crowded into the close, untidy space that was the tavern. “Circumstances here are not at all like they were in Haddowyn.”
Korsten sighed, mostly to himself. “No, I expect they’re not.” You’re not here, Renmyr. In spite of everything, I can’t help wishing that you were. How could anyone have bound another so completely? So utterly that betrayal and attempted murder wouldn’t even bring them around and make them see the truth? And the truth is … is it that you don’t … that you never…. Korsten lowered his gaze to the table and stared at the rough wood for a long time silently, allowing Merran to be on guard for both of them. It wasn’t intentional, but he couldn’t help himself dwelling on the circumstances, on the very individual, that set him on his current path. He couldn’t say where it was headed, except away from the home he knew and the person he loved, so very dearly. He would never love like that again. Thank the gods Merran didn’t expect him to. It was difficult enough bearing the weight of Ashwin’s ancient heart. If only the Mage-Superior hadn’t let it drop at Korsten’s feet just before the start of this journey.