by Devon Vesper
Shaking his head, Valis went to grab the ankles of two Qos adherents and dragged them toward the garrison gates. When he made it to the inner garrison shield, Valis absorbed the black magic, then used his own holy gold to replace it, keeping the shields invisible so that no one could tell the garrison was no longer under Qos adherent control.
With everyone’s help, they soon had the magical pyre burning, the golden flames reaching for the sky. Valis added a parameter for the shields above them to filter out the smoke, both so they didn’t choke to death on it, and so no one passing would be able to see the sparks and smoke and come to investigate.
Valis turned to his army, who milled around. A few were missing, gone to help herd the horses toward the garrison so they would be safe. Once they got in, Valis had one of the mercenaries go check on the horses in the garrison’s stables. Those beasts would be leaving with the herd when the army departed in the morning. Valis couldn’t just leave them there to starve. He didn’t have it in him.
“You called?” Shyvus asked. Valis had, and he turned his attention to Shyvus and his mate, Phalin.
“I want you and a team of your choosing to go through the garrison’s offices, and anywhere else there may be intelligence, and bring everything into the main office,” Valis said. “You can read whatever you want and make informed decisions as to what to do with those things without literary wards. If there are literary wards on anything, set them aside so I can read through them or break the ward so you can.”
Phalin smirked. “And what will you be doing in the meantime?”
Valis perked a brow at him. “A team and I will be caring for the horses. They need to be brushed, fed, and their blankets and other things need to be washed badly.”
“I was only teasing, Valis,” Phalin said with a chuckle. “We’ll see you in the dining hall when you’re done.”
“Assign a few people to laundry duty, and others to the kitchens,” Valis said with a shrug, easily absolving Phalin of his tease. “We’ll be taking as much of the food with us as possible, and anything else we could use. So keep an eye out for things we may need that we don’t already have when you’re looking for documents.”
All of Valis’s orders took most of the day and some well into the evening hours. When they all met in the dining hall for the evening meal, Valis looked over his army and sighed. Every person there had sagging shoulders, drooping posture, and bloodshot eyes—all from exhaustion, or at least that’s what he hoped it was. Exhaustion was at least mostly easy to take care of with a relaxing bath and a good night’s sleep.
And everyone there desperately needed baths.
His army’s exhaustion struck him even worse when Shyvus and Phalin sat across from him along one of the long benches in the dining hall. Valis motioned to their meals. “Eat first, report later.”
“Thank you, Grand Master,” Shyvus said. Then he turned his head and sneezed into his elbow. “Hopefully, the food will help rid us of the foul dust that coated half the things in those offices. It appears that none of the Qos adherents knew how to dust or tidy up their paperwork.”
“We didn’t find anything really useful. There is one document,” Phalin tapped the stack of papers next to his food tray, “that is warded, though it had thick layers of dust on it, so I dare to think it will be useless.”
Valis reached for the papers, and when Phalin handed them over, he took another bite of the pepper-crusted steak before filling his eyes with his dark magic and giving the first page a scan. After scanning the rest of the pages, Valis set it aside and took a bite of his buttered mashed potatoes as he pulled the black magic from his eyes.
“What do you make of it?” Shyvus asked.
“It’s over six years old,” Valis said. “And we already know the information. One set is directions to the enemy monastery with a supply list—food and whatnot, that the monastery needed to make it through the winter while remaining as unnoticed and impregnable as possible.”
He pointed at the two reliquary guards and motioned to their meals. “Eat. Dinner, baths, laundry. Then we need a team to grab clean sheets and strip all the beds, especially since most of those rooms smelled heavily of sex.”
“It will be done, Grand Master,” Shyvus said. And it still floored Valis that Shyvus and Phalin treated Valis as if he had way more experience than he actually did. “I’ll set the teams up.”
“Thank you.”
Valis then went back to his food until one of the mercenaries clapped him on the shoulder and, in a thick Noldworian accent, said, “And what will you be doing while all of us work?”
Shyvus gave the man a deadly glare. “He made it so none of us died this day. And using that much power is draining.” He leaned forward, barely keeping his chest out of his food. “Watch yourself, boy. Disrespecting the Grand Masters by insinuating that they do no work is a grand way to get your ass handed to you.”
“I agree,” Jintas said from behind the man who still had a hold of Valis’s shoulder. “And you will do well to remember that, Caul. Every day, he melts snow without a break while his reliquary guards must take breaks after every twenty to thirty minutes. He lays stasis like he’s spraying water. He keeps us safe.”
“Or at least safer than we would be otherwise,” Phalin said. His glare wasn’t half as deadly as his husband’s, but still potent. “In war and in these traveling conditions, not everyone can be protected.”
“I was only joking,” Caul said. He backed up a pace, removing his hand from Valis’s shoulder. “I am sorry if I offended you.”
“It’s okay,” Valis said. He turned just enough to meet Caul’s eyes. “We’re all tired, grumpy, and hungry. Go get yourself some dinner and relax. We have a busy day tomorrow.”
“As you wish it, Grand Master,” Caul said as he walked away, cowed.
“Thank you,” Jintas said. “He’s not usually this much of an asshole. He’s—”
Valis waved him away. “He’s a good kid.”
“He’s older than you,” Shyvus teased.
“In age, yes,” Valis said. “In maturity, not so much. But he’s a great assassin, and we need him. Give him some slack, guys.”
“Sir!”
Chapter Nine
I won’t tell you again, Roba said. Though his words seemed harsh, his tone was almost teasing. It was a stark contrast to how he had spoken—or shouted—his admonishments when Valis was younger—when Roba was still alive.
I’ll sit down to meditate after strength training, Valis said. I promise.
Then he smiled to himself.
Valis knew it was just a plea from Roba. His dad wanted his morning hug, but he was being a grumpy bastard because he was too proud to ask for one. Valis grinned as he did his handstand push-ups. He’d tease Roba, but that felt too cruel.
You absorbed enough magic that it’s affecting your nervous system, Roba warned. You have been putting it off all morning.
I just woke up an hour ago, Dad. It’ll be okay.
Roba huffed in Valis’s mind and went quiet. Valis appreciated that silence and used it to get through his morning exercise routine so he could fully wake up and get the fog in his brain to evaporate.
After an hour of meditation, Roba seemed happier, and Valis no longer had the nervous jitters with a side dose of sinister glee that came with absorbing too much black magic in too short a time.
Now he sat on a bench at one of the tables in the dining hall, poring over the maps while Tavros went to get breakfast from the kitchen. The way his army volunteered for everything, from cooking to cleaning, it all made Valis proud and grateful. Especially since Valis’s head was in those maps instead of what transpired around him.
Someone squeezed Valis’s shoulder, and he looked up to see Seza as she sat down next to him. “They aren’t going to change, no matter how long you stare at them.”
Valis huffed a laugh and rubbed his tired, dry eyes. “I know. I’m mostly just trying to figure out how to send a copy of these to Thyran
.” He wrinkled his nose and sighed. “Actually, that’s not true. I know how. I just feel like I’m missing something.”
“It doesn’t have the garrison sketched in,” Jintas said as he sat across from Valis. Everyone seemed to agree to keep the seat to Valis’s right for Tavros. Valis appreciated that.
Valis looked up just as Tavros set Valis’s breakfast before him after moving the maps out of the way. He turned his head, accepting a sweet kiss from his mate before turning his full attention back to the mercenary leader as Tavros took his seat. “Would you sketch it in for me after you eat? I admit, I’m better at reading maps than creating them.”
“Certainly,” Jintas said. He dribbled some butter from the scrambled eggs into his freshly trimmed goatee and made a face as he swallowed the bite. Then, as he attacked his whiskers with a napkin, he said, “Just don’t hand it to me until I’ve washed my hands. It seems I’ve forgotten how not to be a complete slob.”
Valis snorted, thankfully before he had a bite in his mouth. “Noted. Thank you.”
“Valis.”
Valis looked up from his breakfast and gave Vodis a nod of recognition. “What do you need?”
The “Mountain Man” grinned, his white teeth bright against his midnight skin. “The snow is starting to melt. We’re in for first thaw in the next few days as the temperature rises. We should be able to move faster once the ground dries. But we’ll need to go slow until then due to the mud from so much snowmelt. Chances for floods will be high and can be far more dangerous than the constant blizzards.”
“But, at least the blizzards are done?” Valis asked, hopefully.
Vodis chuckled and started walking away, calling over his shoulder. “Maybe. I can’t see that far.”
Jintas sighed. “We’ll do well to stay on high ground as much as possible. Flash floods could take out our entire army in moments.”
“It could,” Valis agreed. “I am thinking that it may be a good idea to add more parameters to the shield I keep over the army. Keep it from allowing water to enter, which would also help with the mud situation if I can get my head around it.”
“Any other orders, Grand Master?” Brogan said as he headed toward Valis’s table. He held a tea towel, drying his hands absently as he walked. “All the food is magically preserved as you requested. It’ll keep until we return, and long after.”
Valis shook his head. “Not unless you want to go help with laundry. Sit down and eat your breakfast. I’d like to get on our way as soon as possible.”
Tavros squeezed Valis’s knee and went back to eating. It was almost as if he couldn’t get close enough. As if they hadn’t had enough time together. And Valis felt it, too. So many responsibilities meant less time to spend enjoying each other. They were far too tired the night before to have sex, and today they would be heading out in short order. It wasn’t fair, but Valis forcibly pushed that thought aside to focus on finishing his breakfast.
“What all needs done?” Seza asked. Valis ducked his head, guilty. He had forgotten she was even there, sat to his left. She nudged his arm. “Are we done except laundry and stuffing our faces?”
“As far as I know, yes,” Valis replied after he swallowed a bite of lemon and almond muffin. “Everyone volunteered for things, so I’m blissfully out of the loop. I trust everyone to get their tasks done. If I know everyone, we should be ready to go by sunrise.”
While Valis, Tavros, and Seza took their time to enjoy their food, Jintas ate more quickly and left. When he returned, he took the maps, produced a pencil from a pocket in his uniform, and started sketching in the location of the garrison. Valis watched for only a moment before looking around the dining hall and doing a headcount. The walls of large white bricks reminded him of Avristin and jolted his heart with a sick sense of loss as if he would never see his home again.
“What’s that look for?” Tavros asked.
Valis finished up his food and pushed his tray away. “Just homesick. It will pass.”
His husband leaned in and kissed Valis’s temple. “We’re all homesick. Just means we need to get things done as efficiently and safely as possible so we can get home.”
Nodding, Valis took a deep breath before gathering up dishes from his friends who had finished eating. Once he dropped them off for the mercenaries who chose dish duty, he went back and stretched. “Almost done, Jintas?”
He looked up and put his pair of compasses down. “I am.” He wrinkled his nose and checked the measurement on the compass, careful not to stick himself with the sharp ends, and used it to measure out distances on the maps again, checking his work. When he finished, he put the compass away and let the maps roll up on their own.
“They’re as accurate as I can make them,” Jintas said.
Nodding, Valis took them up and sat down next to the mercenary leader. He concentrated on the maps, then with the intent to duplicate them, he pushed magic into the thought and grinned when he had maps in both hands.
“You shit… that’s genius,” Tavros said with a laugh. “I would have never thought of that.”
Valis gave him a cheeky grin and placed one set of maps on the table as he sat down. He held onto the other set as he scried after Thyran and, soon after, phased them to his friend. By the time he was done, most of the army seemed finished with their duties. Tavros had even gone to sort their laundry and pack their bags.
With everything running smoothly, Valis handed the original maps to Shyvus for safekeeping and went to help his husband and get into his armor. By the time they finished, it was just after sunrise, and everyone started gathering in the courtyard.
Valis took the time to get Rasera ready for the coming journey. Once he had his horse kitted up, he led the beast out into the courtyard and called out to those milling around, “I need a team of twenty to stay here and keep the garrison secure. This is a volunteer job. You’ll be in charge of defense and our surplus horses and those left behind by the Qos adherents.”
He raised a hand to quiet the army as it seemed everyone tried talking at once. “I’d prefer only two reliquary guards remain. Ten Aesriphos and eight laymen will stay as well. Figure it out. Staying here is just as important as journeying with us.”
Within moments, twenty men and women stood behind Valis. He gave them all a nod of thanks as he rubbed his horse’s face. He was just about to mount up when the world went black, and Valis fell through a silent void.
The moment he crashed into a host body, Valis groaned. Not again. The vision took a few moments to solidify, going from a blurry mix of colors to a scene that made Valis’s blood run cold.
Strung up before him, Darolen swayed limply by manacles that hung from rusty chains attached to an iron plate in the ceiling. The rust flaked off as Darolen swung, his feet unable to touch the floor.
Valis almost didn’t recognize him. Where before Darolen always had soft, shaggy brown hair about four inches in length, now it hung well past his shoulders in limp, greasy strings. Visible dandruff lined his scalp in cakes of dead skin.
Darolen hung naked, his skin too pale, refuse dried on his skin. Open sores lined his body, most of them oozing with pus. The infected sores looked so painful that Valis inwardly cringed. They all were ringed with reddened, irritated skin and loose, sickening-looking, wet scabs that looked as if they had been rubbed off, as if they had dragged Darolen by his hair instead of carrying him to this room.
Suddenly, Valis didn’t want to see anymore. He didn’t want to be here. Not with Darolen looking like he was just a breath away from death. He didn’t want to see what all his host had in store. It was enough that his host stood motionless, quietly watching Darolen swing, occasionally looking up to check how bad Darolen bled from his position hanging from the rusted manacles.
He must have been here a while, or someone else had been here before him. Thick scabs stuck to the edges of the manacles, making a more gruesome picture. How long had he been swinging there? Was he even breathing?
Darolen coughed.
His entire body lurched with it, and as he hacked, his lungs rattling with infection, stool squirted from his ass and onto the already disgusting stone floor.
It took a moment for Valis to realize there was a drain in the center, right beneath Darolen, and the floor gradually sloped toward it. And just then, Valis’s host hefted up a bucket of water and splashed Darolen with it, the effect jolting Darolen awake as well as washing the filth down the drain.
Even though it jolted him awake, Darolen’s head hung forward, his chin resting on his chest. The only sound he made was the wheezing of every breath he took, the only real sign that he was still alive between his body-wracking coughs.
“He’s not going to live long enough to talk,” someone said from behind Valis’s host. “I’m surprised he’s lasted this long.”
“He’ll live awhile yet,” Valis’s host said in a deep, grating voice. “His magic keeps him alive, constantly healing his body. It’s why the blood poisoning hasn’t killed him yet—his magic keeps it from reaching his heart. He’ll last until we break him.”
Valis wanted to cry out when he saw Darolen tense. It wasn’t even a full-body tense. It was just a slight hardening of his muscles as if he had no strength to do more than that. He was so thin that Valis only recognized him from the scries and previous visions. But seeing him like this broke something deep inside Valis that made him want to recoil and jump out of this vision as fast as possible.
Why was it taking so long?
“Our master will be here soon,” the man behind Valis’s host said. “I will return to clean him up when our Sovereign Priest departs.”
Shuffling sounded, then stopped. Valis’s host turned to see a man with weasel features and a slim, short build with short, mouse-brown hair. He wrinkled his nose, his hand on the door handle. “Do try to reduce the stench before he arrives. This is unacceptable.”
Valis’s host grumbled once the weasel left, but did as he was told. For long minutes, Valis remained captive while his host roughly scrubbed Darolen down and did a better job of rinsing the floor. Truthfully, that was all he could do without getting soap and a scrub brush. It was just nice to see Darolen somewhat clean, even if his hair got none of the cleaning.