by Devon Vesper
Just as his host finished and set the bucket aside, the door to the room swung open and banged lightly against the brick wall. That was another thing Valis noticed—the bricks looked almost like what he saw in Avristin’s prison. They were still white but dingy from neglect. Though these were pockmarked from who-knew-what kind of abuse.
“Stand aside, Vern.”
Valis’s host, Vern, gasped and scurried to the side. “Yes, Master Kaphir.”
When Vern scuttled away, Valis saw, for the first time, the face of his mortal enemy. Or was the Sovereign Priest of Qos even mortal? How long had he been alive? Surely nearly as long, or longer, than Thyran at over two-thousand years.
The man had a stately air, just as Roba had when he’d been alive. Golden brown hair flowed about his shoulders in lustrous waves that framed a surprisingly delicate face with a straight, patrician nose, high cheekbones, and full lips that were currently in a moue of disgust as he watched Darolen swing. His green eyes assessed everything in a brief moment, and he waved a delicate, well-manicured hand at Vern. “You have disappointed me yet again. That I have to come and perform your job for you is a mark against you.”
He sighed and pulled on a pair of black leather gloves. Then he used two fingers to turn Darolen to face him. With a shake of his head, he carefully tilted Darolen’s face up, then abruptly let it drop. “Gods, he’s almost dead. Do you not know how to question captives without killing them? Are you that daft?”
Vern sputtered, trying and failing to find adequate words to get himself out of trouble. But the Sovereign Priest of Qos raised a hand and barked, “Silence!”
When Vern clamped his mouth shut, the Sovereign Priest turned his focus fully back on Darolen and tenderly grabbed a lock of hair to rub between his fingers. When he looked at the grease on his gloves, he shuddered and grabbed Darolen by the chin. “Tell me, Aesriphos… what would you do for a long, relaxing bath? To have someone gently wash your hair. To have your wounds healed. To have a light meal that is flavorful but gentle on your severely abused stomach. What would you give?”
Tears leaked from Darolen’s eyes, and he sucked in a breath only to sob it out and start coughing again. The Sovereign Priest quickly turned Darolen’s face away until he finished coughing, then brushed away a tear track. “These tears say you want what I offer. That you long to be clean. That you would give almost anything to be placed in a cell with a cot kitted out with soft sheets, thick blankets, and a pillow where you weren’t chained to a wall to sit in your own filth.”
Darolen choked on another sob as if he couldn’t help himself.
“Just tell me what I wish to know. Not a soul alive would blame you. Not even your husband. Not even your Sovereign Priest.”
Darolen shuddered and sniffled, and it almost broke Valis. He kept his eyes closed, but his brow furrowed in a weak frown.
“Now,” the Sovereign Priest of Qos said in a gentle tone, “what is your name?”
Darolen’s lower lip wobbled, but only for a moment. He cleared his throat and whispered, “Darolen Jaund.”
“Splendid. Now, what is the name of your Sovereign Priest?”
Valis could see Darolen fighting with himself. His eyes darted back and forth beneath his lids, but more tears streaked tracks through the grime covering his dirty face. “Kyris Yavih.”
“Ah, very good.” He punctuated his praise with a gentle finger trailing across Darolen’s cheekbone. “Thank you.” Then he trailed those fingers down Darolen’s shrunken chest, tutting at the loss of muscle that Darolen suffered while incarcerated. “And Thyran. He yet lives?”
Darolen shivered but nodded. “The historian? He is there.”
The Sovereign Priest of Qos chuckled but said nothing more until he calmed himself. “That is very good. Thank you.”
He turned and looked at Vern with a victorious expression. “No tricks, Vern. Bathe him—gently, and let him soak for fifteen minutes after you scrub him, wash his hair, and change the water. Dry him—gently. Place him in a proper cell with clean bedding. No manacles or collars. Have his wounds healed. Make sure his latrine is cleaned thrice daily, or more if necessary. He is to have regular meals that are easy for a weak stomach to handle, broths and vegetable mashes.”
Darolen broke down into heart-wrenching sobs that tore at Valis’s soul. The Sovereign Priest of Qos tutted and patted Darolen’s chest. “Now, now. Calm yourself, or you’ll start coughing again, and I could hear how unpleasant it was for you.”
Valis gasped when Darolen opened his eyes. His hoarse voice cracked when he said, “Thank you…”
“I always reward good behavior,” the Sovereign Priest of Qos said. “Now, Vern, please take him down from there and get him comfortable. Do you need assistance?”
“Can’t unlock the shackles and hold him up at the same time, Master.”
With a chant that Valis had never heard, nor could he understand, Darolen floated just enough to take all the weight off the manacles. In short order, Vern had Darolen in his arms and carried him out of the torture chamber.
And the world went black.
“He’s coming around,” Tavros said. “Hold on, love.”
“He’s never been out this long,” Seza said. “Are you sure it was a vision?”
“Positive.”
Someone patted Valis’s cheeks. “Come on, love. Open your eyes. Regulate your temperature. Everything is all right.”
It took Valis a moment to regain his wits and process that he was shivering, not being shaken. Once that awareness crept up on him, he started regulating his body temperature and squinted his eyes open to find a dimly lit room instead of the light of dawn. Thankfully, it seemed they had carried him inside, and he rested on the bed he and Tavros had slept in the night before, and Tavros sat on the edge of the bed next to him.
“What happened?” Tavros leaned in and pressed a warm kiss to Valis’s forehead. “You screamed yourself hoarse.”
Valis took a moment to just breathe before recounting his vision in as much detail as he could. When he finished, Valis whimpered and scrubbed his hands over his face and rubbed his watery eyes. “I have to tell Thyran.”
Chapter Ten
“Keep the horses saddled,” Valis ordered. “I shouldn’t be long with my meeting with Thyran.”
Shyvus frowned and looked Valis up and down. “We should stay here for the rest of the day, Valis. You need to decompress after that vision. You’re jittery and too pale.”
Valis clapped Shyvus on the shoulder and smiled. “I’ll be okay, Shy. I’m glad you care, but I’ll be okay soon. We can get underway after lunch if that will appease you.”
His friend sighed and nodded. “That’ll do. I just worry. You screamed so hard, and your body contorted as if you were being tortured.”
Wincing, Valis nodded. “I might as well have been, but I’ll be fine. Now spread the word so everyone can relax for a while. I need to get this settled with Thyran, and then I’d like to sit down with a mug of spiced milk and process what I just saw.”
Shyvus nodded, and once he stepped away to carry out Valis’s orders, Valis grabbed Tavros’s hand and led him back inside, searching until he found a bowl of water that was suitable for scrying. Those with dark glazes in the bottom worked best, but almost anything would do if it were shiny and polished.
In one of the offices, he found a brass disc and, considering that good enough, Valis sat down and opened the scry while Tavros stood behind him and massaged the back of Valis’s neck.
“What news have you?” Thyran asked the moment the scry connected. “You are much too pale. What happened?”
The worry in his friend’s eyes warmed Valis’s heart, and he leaned forward to get closer to the disc. “I had another vision.”
“If it worked this well on you, turning you so haggard, it must be of great import.” Thyran blew a sigh through his nose and rubbed a hand down his face. “Tell me.”
“They broke Darolen,” Valis murmured. “Though I don�
��t understand the questions. They asked for Father’s name, the name of the current Sovereign Priest, and asked if you were still alive.”
Valis hunched over as much as his restrictive armor allowed. “They broke him with promises of comfort. A bed with fresh linens and thick blankets, a long, hot bath, they’ll heal his injuries and make sure he gets regular food. And the interrogator stressed to the torturer that his orders were to be carried out immediately once Darolen answered all his questions.”
“Who did the interrogation?”
Valis wrinkled his nose. “The Sovereign Priest of Qos. His name is Kaphir.”
Thyran sucked in a loud, sharp breath and jerked back as if Valis had punched him. “Describe him.”
Valis furrowed his brow as he thought back. “He was very delicate—graceful. Honey-brown hair. Green eyes. Tall and almost kind-looking. He had a musical quality to his voice, very soothing.”
As Valis ticked off different traits of the Sovereign Priest of Qos, Thyran grew ever more pale until he whispered, “He died over a thousand years ago…” He shook his head, disbelief shining in his eyes. “He died. Kaphir died…”
“Apparently not,” Valis said gently. “He looked wholly alive and well.” Then he leaned a little closer to the scrying disc and murmured, “Did you see the body? Did you watch the funeral pyre?”
Thyran twitched his head side to side. “I did not see his body, but I watched the funeral pyre.”
“Are those who told you of his passing still alive and at the monastery?”
Thyran’s eyes darkened, and he sat up straighter. “No. I have not seen them since shortly after the funeral pyre. They were good friends of Kaphir…”
Valis gave him a sad smile. “Then it appears they played a rather nasty trick on you.”
The August Patriarch’s eyes darkened further. And with each breath, he grew more and more irritable until it looked like he was about to flip the table in a fit of anger. His jaw ticked as he ground his teeth so hard that Valis could hear them squeaking under the pressure. In all his time at the monastery, he’d never seen his friend and mentor so vexed.
“Thyran?”
His friend shook his head and let out a long, drawn-out sigh that seemed to help him relax his features and stop grinding his molars to dust. “I am sorry, my boy. I am not angry at you, but at myself. I should have realized this sooner.”
“Who is he?” Valis asked.
Thyran pursed his lips before tilting his head side to side, cracking his neck. “A former friend and lover from long ago. We had an argument… and I never saw him again. His funeral pyre was a week later.”
Valis traced the rim of the brass disc and studied Thyran’s face for a moment before saying softly, “I’m so sorry, Thyran. But at least now we know who we’re up against. Can you tell me anything about him?”
It took a moment, but Thyran gave a slight nod. “He is quite powerful. He used to be gentle, but he holds grudges and has a mean, vindictive streak.” His eyes grew suspiciously shiny as he whispered, “He’s seductive, and not afraid to use attraction to get his way.”
“He didn’t even have to do that with Father. He only had to offer a clean place to sleep, a bath, and proper food.” Valis rubbed his eyes as he pondered that. “In all honesty, though, I’m glad he accepted. It will help keep his spirits up and help him get stronger.”
Thyran nodded, and after a bit of niceties, Thyran shut down and ended the scry after a short farewell that made Valis’s precognition flare to life. It wasn’t quite as strong as Valis was used to, so after a moment of examining the feeling, he pushed it to the back of his mind and sat back, resting his head on Tavros’s armored stomach.
“We need to get underway today.”
Tavros trailed fingers along Valis’s throat, just above his neck guard. “After lunch. Come on.”
“I’m getting precognitive feelings about first thaw,” Valis murmured as he stood. He pressed a chaste kiss to Tavros’s lips and led him out of the office. “I’m still trying to wrap my mind around shield parameters. I’ve never tried to keep water out before.”
“If you can use them as a fishing net, you can use a shield to divert water around the army,” Tavros said with firm confidence. “Believe in yourself.”
With Valis’s nod, Tavros squeezed Valis’s hand. His show of support buoyed Valis’s confidence, and he led the way to the common room where the reliquary guards seemed to be having a meeting.
“It doesn’t negate the fact that Valis is just one person. If we all could contribute to the shield, it would save him from expending so much energy, both magically and physically. I can’t imagine how exhausting it must be to constantly be spraying magic everywhere, no matter how deep his magic well is.”
Valis’s heart lifted as he stood in the doorway. Brogan paced back and forth, and Valis entered, stopping him in his tracks. “I appreciate that. So much. And if you want, I won’t stop any of you from helping with the magic output to the shields. Just realize that once I set it, I break it off from myself, so it doesn’t continue draining me. It really, truly doesn’t exhaust me. But if you all want to add secondary and tertiary shields, I won’t mind. They could help. Just remember to break it off from you with a thought of invisibility and permanence.”
He smiled and clapped Brogan on the neck since they both wore armor. “And it would be less stress on you if you all, instead of adding shields over the whole army, only shielded those under your lead. That way, if the main shield drops, you all are still protected.”
“I can live with that,” Brogan said with a nod. “I just worry.”
“And I love you, so very much, for that worry,” Valis said. “All of you. It humbles me that you all care so much.”
Brogan blushed and looked down. “Yeah.”
Chuckling, Valis glanced around the room. “Do whatever you want until lunch. I think Tavros and I will go soak in a tub while we still have them.”
“Welp. No one else is going in the bathing room.”
Valis looked between Brogan and Tavros, then grinned at his husband. “Yep.”
All the reliquary guards chuckled, but Valis raised a hand to silence them. “We’ll save that for our room before we go bathing. Might as well get truly dirty before we go bathe.”
Playful groans and good-natured chuckles followed Valis and Tavros as they left. Someone managed to lob a pillow at Valis’s head, hitting their mark with a shout of triumph. Valis rubbed the back of his head but put it out of his mind, and as soon as they hit the hallway, Tavros took the lead and almost dragged Valis behind him.
“In a hurry?”
“For sex?” Tavros asked. “Always.”
Snickering, Valis jogged, and they made it to their room in short order, Tavros already undoing buckles to get his armor off while he attacked Valis’s lips with sultry, needy kisses that made Valis moan. When Tavros sucked Valis’s tongue into his mouth, Valis grew iron-hard and almost hurt himself trying to get out of his own armor.
Within moments, they both stood nude and hard. Tavros stared at Valis with undisguised hunger as he pulled Valis toward him. “The things I want to do to you…”
Valis grinned and leaned in, nipping Tavros’s lower lip as he slotted their bodies together. Valis marveled at how well they fit against each other, and almost forgot what he was going to say. He cleared his throat to buy some time, then nudged Tavros’s nose with his. “We have a few hours until lunch. Half fun, half bath?”
Tavros tilted his head down and kissed his way from Valis’s jaw to his throat. Valis lifted his chin, exposing more of his throat for Tavros’s attentions, his dick throbbing when his husband latched on and sucked a bruising kiss into the curve between his neck and shoulder. The sensation drew a moan from deep in Valis’s chest. He clutched at Tavros’s hips, drawing him closer so he could grind against his husband’s hip, letting Tavros grind back with equal fervor.
“You keep that up,” Valis said breathlessly, “and I won’t l
ast long enough to get your cock in my ass.”
Tavros chuckled, the vibrations going through the flesh his husband held captive in his mouth, and spreading warmth through Valis’s entire body. He lifted his head just enough to growl in Valis’s ear, “Then you should stop rubbing yourself on me. Or I could throw you on the bed.”
Valis didn’t have time to choose before Tavros spun Valis around and shoved him against the wall. Valis gasped as the cool wood chilled his chest and cheek, pebbling his nipples until he was almost a giant mass of sensation and hazy, erotic thoughts.
Then Tavros was on him, his hands roaming Valis’s back and sides, his touch proprietary and demanding. He grabbed Valis’s ass cheeks, one in each hand, and squeezed, spreading them apart until Valis’s hole spasmed.
Before Valis could get his breathing under control, Tavros slid his dick along the cleft of Valis’s ass, dragging it along the puckered flesh of Valis’s anus and making him almost desperate.
“Tav…”
“I got you,” Tavros said, his voice still a low, sultry growl.
In the next moment, he took Valis’s wrists and placed his hands next to his head on the wall and lightly bit the back of his neck. “Don’t you move.”
Valis shuddered, desire rocketing through him with the order. Then Tavros was gone, and Valis heard the shuffle of bags and clothes, then Tavros’s victorious cry of “Yes!” followed by the telltale sound of their jar of lubrication’s metallic latch bouncing off the lid of the glass jar.
Valis’s breath stuttered in his chest. He curled his fingers against the wall and spread his legs, his anticipation rising. He turned his head, watching as Tavros prowled across the room as he returned to Valis.
“Face forward,” Tavros ordered. He set the jar aside on the chair to Valis’s left.