Kei's Gift

by Ann Somerville

  “It’ll stop an arrow or a sword thrust—you’ll wear it every moment you’re not actually sleeping, and even then once we’re across the mountains,” he said gruffly.”

  It already felt awkward. “Is that really necessary?”

  Arman had given him a hard look, but with regret behind it. “Loke wasn’t wearing armour. It might have saved him. Please keep it on.”

  Kei agreed without demur. This journey was full of painful resonance for Arman. His grief had become more rational over the last few months, but it still caught him unawares sometimes. This situation between them didn’t help—Arman may not have lusted after Loke, but he loved him and was relaxed in his company. That he felt the same way about Kei only reminded Arman of what he had lost.

  Still, the armour took some getting used to. At least he wasn’t obliged to carry a weapon of any kind. He continued to get curious looks from the men who were thus obliged, and sensed more than curiosity from them. They weren’t particularly hostile though—he sensed bemusement, some contempt, and yes, even a little lust, here and there, but so long as he wasn’t forced into physical contact with them, he could stand it.

  The march to the foothills took two hours. The weather was overcast, and it started to rain as they reached the range, which meant it would probably be snowing up higher. The urs beasts could deal with snow—they ranged all over Darshian, living in the driest as well as the coldest regions, although the southern animals were generally smaller than the northern breed—but it would still be dangerous. Arman told him that since Kei had last been taken through the pass, much had been done to make it safer. Two bridges had cut out some of the most difficult paths, and there were numerous guides and markers to lead their way.

  The rain continued, making the going slow. It turned to sleet, which made everyone muffle up in their cloaks against the sting and the urs beasts roar in complaint, although their footing never altered. After they’d ascended for several hours, Kei experienced the breathlessness he’d felt before. Arman felt it too, and called a rest for them all to recover a little, to stretch, relieve themselves, and eat some fish jerky and hard bread. Arman didn’t expect Kei to wait on him, so Kei dismounted and ate, keeping back from the soldiers as much as he could in the narrow path. He wondered why the air was thinner up here—was it the cold or the elevation? Something else to investigate in his later years.

  They were only granted half an hour or so to stop, and then Arman gave the command to move. Kei was half way behind him along the trail, and for most of the day, could only see his straight back, riding with perfect ease on the big mount, every inch a man in control. Kei easily saw how Arman had reached nearly the top of the chain of command at the age of twenty-five. It was only when you took a second look that you remembered he was so young—and he rarely gave anyone a chance for a second look. He was, even knowing all Kei did about his gentler side, a daunting and imposing commander. His men may speculate about his sex life, but they had no qualms about following him on this mission.

  Snow started to fall and the progress slowed again. They were forced to dismount and lead the beasts single file for two hours, by which time, despite the quality of his clothing and the exertion Kei was exhausted and freezing, too tired even to be afraid of the vertiginous drops at the side of the path. It was also growing dark, and with relief, Kei heard the lieutenant shout the command to stop and make camp.

  He wasn’t sure what he should do next, but the decision was taken out of his hands as the sergeant moved down the line of soldiers. “You, attend the general. Take your beast, you’ll sleep at the head of the line tonight.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He was ignored as he carefully led the animal along the ranks of men, already feeding their mounts and offering them melted snow. The urs beast could go many days without substantial food, but water was essential. A few men had already broken out the small charcoal stoves they all carried and were heating water for the ubiquitous cheym bark tea which Kei had drunk for much of his journey south. It wasn’t drunk in the houses of the gentility, but it was a staple stimulant and refreshment of the common man. Kei didn’t care for its smell, but it was hot, and right now, that was all that mattered.

  Arman was feeding his animal. “Oh good, there you are—are you all right?”

  “Apart from being exhausted, saddle-sore, frozen and hungry, I feel fine, my lord.”

  Arman grinned. “I think that’s fairly normal for the circumstances. Hitch your mount next to mine—if you feed them, I’ll get the water.”

  No one was the least curious that Arman was attending to himself and his animal this way. But then he would hardly be run after by his servants even in a bigger expedition—he wasn’t the type.

  They watered the urs beasts, and Kei set the little stove going, a surreptitious use of his mind-moving power speeding the flint sparks to make the tinder catch. Hot drinks were essential—even Arman, apparently so superbly fit and strong, looked weary and chilled to the bone, and the night would only get colder. “Where will we sleep?” There was no room on the path for tents—the urs beasts took up too much room.

  “Where we sit, more or less, against these hairy bastards,” Arman said, crouching down and taking the drink. “I hope they’ll keep us warm enough.”

  “The men should move closer together,” Kei said softly. “It will be warmer for men and animals.”

  “Yes, true.” Arman stood and moved to the group of men closest to them, speaking to them quietly. They nodded, and he returned. “I’ve told them to arrange the beasts and sleep between them. It’s no different from sharing a tent, after all. We don’t tend to think of things like that,” he added in explanation. “It doesn’t get this cold in Kuprij.”

  “We don’t get snow in the north very often. It’s usually too dry, but the nights are bitter. The waterholes often freeze over.”

  “Really?” Arman found that interesting. “But it doesn’t last?”

  “Sometimes, if it’s very cold in the night and the day is cloudy. Then we skip rocks along the ice and scare the birds. I mean, I used to do that when I was a child,” Kei amended virtuously.

  “You would never be so frivolous now, of course.” Arman was grinning at him.

  “No, of course not.” Kei couldn’t help smiling back a little too.

  They turned the stove off as soon as the water boiled—no sense in wasting fuel—and then the only warmth came from their own bodies and that of the urs beasts, too well insulated in their winter coats to donate much to their owners, but who formed a good shelter against the wind. The heat they did provide felt good at their backs. No one dallied over their meals, and the rumble of conversation through the ranks soon died away as the men settled, sitting up wrapped in blankets and cloaks and each other between their animals. Kei had little choice but to join Arman in a similar fashion. “I hope they don’t gossip about this,” he muttered as Arman drew a blanket over their heads, his other arm wrapped tightly around Kei’s body.

  “They’re all doing the same, and if they feel as tired as I do, all they’ll be thinking about is trying to rest. As should you be. Gods, I’m so cold—I’ve never been this cold before in my life. Have you?”

  “Once or twice, and I’ve slept under the stars more than that. Move closer, and don’t let any air in.”

  He felt Arman shivering, and realised he was probably suffering more than he admitted. Under the blankets and the cloak, it was as private as a tent, so they could tangle their legs and arms together without fearing what it looked like—although Kei felt sure as the night got colder, Arman’s soldiers would do so themselves instinctively, looking for anything that would keep out the penetrating chill.

  Kei’s urs beast let out a comfortable fart. “Oh, thank you, kind sir,” Arman grumbled. “That’s not the kind of warmth I need.”

  “He’s only trying to help,” Kei said straight-faced, and was rewarded by Arman’s chuckle deep in his chest. “We’re not going to get much sleep tonig
ht, I fear.”

  “No, I know, but still try to rest. Tonight and tomorrow are probably the worst of it, if you can bear it.”

  “Do I have a choice?” Kei muttered.

  “Not at the moment,” Arman murmured, his beard brushing crisply across the top of Kei’s head. “Are you well otherwise?” he whispered.

  “Well enough, my lord.”

  “Good.”

  A little more easing of their positions, and then Arman fell silent. His hands held Kei’s close between them, but his gloved fingers couldn’t feel the contact. If it wasn’t so damn cold, this would be nice. But if it wasn’t so damn cold, this would be a very dangerous thing to do. Kei didn’t know whether to be grateful for that or not.

  ~~~~~~~~

  His soldiers were subdued, and Arman was concerned by the obvious weariness in them from a single night in the cold. He had to ensure they had a day to recuperate at the fort when they got off these mountains. He wasn’t exactly chipper either—he’d slept poorly, waking every hour or so from the cold. He probably would have died without Kei and the warmth of the urs beasts—and this wasn’t even the worst of winters could throw at them this high up. If they were going to keep using this route—and he sincerely hoped another might be found soon—they would need find ways of keeping the men warmer and better rested than this.

  Kei suffered worse than all of them—hardly surprising given the battering his body had taken since he’d been taken from his home—but had made no serious complaint, nor lagged behind. He’d slept perhaps somewhat better than Arman, but had less flesh on him to bear the cold and the exertion. If he could get through this day, he would be fine.

  Thankfully, there was no more snow, although it had frozen hard. This made things easier in some ways, but the day was one of careful clinging to guide ropes and beasts, only inching along in some places. He kept Kei with him all day—not for Kei’s sake, but his own. Arman felt easier knowing he was in reach should Kei get into trouble.

  They’d begun their descent an hour before they stopped to camp for the night, and the sense of relief among the men was palpable. Still no room for tents, and the men bunched together even closer than the night before. Kei wasn’t in a mood to speak, but then neither was Arman. He was too exhausted to do much but gulp some tea, chew some jerky, and then huddle with Kei against the cold. The only blessing was that neither of them had had any bad dreams, nor had they the night before—and a damn good thing too, because the edge of a cliff was a very bad place to start tossing and turning.

  It snowed overnight, but only covered them with a couple of inches, so it presented no real difficulty. The going was easy, although the decline was steep and there were several points in the day where Arman’s own nerve nearly failed him, sitting on his beast. But when he looked back, Kei was stoic—the man did indeed know how to ride, although he hadn’t appreciated feeling sore. That would diminish over the next few days. Arman wondered if there were any ointments in Kei’s box of tricks which would work better on tight muscles than the liniment the medics routinely issued. The medic on this march hadn’t made any attempt to talk to Kei, despite Arman’s rather broad hint.

  Stupid fool. If Kei ever finished his book, Arman would insist every medic under his command read it and try at least some of the remedies for themselves. The Prijian medical profession were so damn hide-bound. If a simple man from the middle of nowhere knew more of natural sciences than a man such as himself who had the finest education his father’s money could buy, there was something seriously wrong with Prijian learning. Arman yearned to discover more of what the Darshianese had locked away in their libraries. But to do that, he would need to learn his letters better than he had. Another task for his idle hours, few as they were.

  Kei rode up beside him—the going was definitely easier here. “My lord, will we reach the fort tonight?”

  “Unlikely, but we’ll sleep under canvas, I hope.”

  “I think it’s warmer the way it’s been. With the beasts, I mean.” Kei looked away, as if there was something amiss with him suggesting Arman may also contributed to his warmth.

  “If you prefer that, we can do it again,” Arman said mildly. “How are you holding up?”

  “I’m fine. It’s been easier than the last time.”

  Arman was ashamed to say he had no idea how Kei had endured the previous journey, or how he’d felt during it. He hadn’t given a damn about the hostages’ feelings, only that they didn’t die and didn’t slow him down. He had been a callous bastard, no better than Senator Mekus or his own steward. When this war was over, would he be remembered as a killer and a thug? Probably. It gave him no pleasure to know that, but the past was past. Kei had offered him forgiveness—perhaps that meant others would do so. Or perhaps they would consider him no more worth forgiving than he had that boy in Darbin. His hands tightened on the reins as he remembered.

  “My lord? Are you all right?”

  “Just counting my sins, Kei. Come on, let’s make the most of the light.”

  They did sleep under canvas, but in the privacy of a little tent only half again as large as those his men used, he and Kei shared blankets and cloaks again for warmth. It was good to sleep lying down, without ice under their backsides, but it was still extremely cold.

  And again he had no dreams.

  They were only two hours from the fort. Arman let his men have a lazy start to recover somewhat from the climb and the nights of poor rest, but then they were on their way. Before long he saw the fort in the distance. So far, nothing explained the loss of communication with the north, so the problem had to lie at least at the fort, if not beyond. His lieutenant rode up beside him and saluted. “Shall I send scouts ahead, Sei general?”

  “Yes, two only, lieutenant. Have them alert the fort of our arrival and report back here.”

  His officer saluted again and left. Shortly after, Arman saw two soldiers peel off and gallop north. “Could there be a problem?” Kei asked in a low voice.

  “No idea. If there’s the slightest indication of a fight, I want you to keep well clear, do you hear me?”

  He turned and gave Kei a stern gaze to emphasise the point. Kei looked back steadily. “Yes, my lord.”

  You’d better. He didn’t want to lose another person he cared about.

  The fort looked utterly normal, but the scouts hadn’t returned. A half-mile from the structure, Arman called a halt, and signalled his lieutenant forward. “Something’s wrong. They’ve not changed the standard to my own at the gate, even though they know I’m coming.”

  “Yes, general, I saw that. What—”

  “General! Lieutenant!”

  Arman turned to the man calling to them—then saw what was coming. A huge force, mounted and afoot, closing in on them rapidly from the east—far more in number than they could ever hope to outrun or defeat. He quickly dropped back to Kei’s side. “Run. Head west or north. Now.”

  Kei’s eyes were wide with fear and worry. “Arman—”

  But there was no time to argue—Arman took his riding crop, slashed Kei’s beast hard on its rump with it, and bellowed, “Now, gods damn it!”

  The beast bolted north, and to Arman’s relief, Kei made no attempt to rein it in. “Be safe,” Arman whispered.

  He drew his sword and held it high. “Lieutenant, forward advance, and attack!” Better to die like a man, than live as a coward. He whipped his beast and galloped towards the enemy army, sword at the ready, the shouts of his men in his ears, his standard flying high and held proudly by his flag bearer at his side.

  Loke, wait for me. I won’t be long now.

  Chapter : Return to Darshian 1

  Kei scrubbed his hands at the sink, light-headedness and weak legs warning him he was almost at the point of exhaustion where he had to either lie down or fall down. He had been working for well over twenty hours straight—someone had told him it was past midnight, and that had to be at least two hours ago—and he’d been tired to begin with. Finally h
e finished the stitching, bandaging, the straightening of limbs and the administration of drugs. He would do one last check on his patients, and then find a cot or a pallet somewhere to collapse.

  “Are you done, Kei?”

  He dried his hands and turned around. “Just now.”

  His visitor was Tiko, a grizzled veteran soldier originally from near Kislik, and one of the three Darshianese army captains in charge of the fort. Kei had only spoken to him very briefly before casualties had started to come in from the battle near the fort, and he’d suddenly had to deal with dozens of injured soldiers. “Then come and get some food before you sleep. We can talk while you eat.”

  Kei was about to say he was too tired to eat, but the mention of food made his stomach rumble and he realised he was, in fact, very hungry. Using his mind-moving gift for so long always drained him, and if he didn’t eat now, he would pay for it tomorrow when he needed to be functioning. There were some very ill people in the field hospital. “All right.”

  The fort was mostly silent, apart from a few quiet moans from the cots where the injured lay, and the distant complaints of the urs beasts. Tiko led him to the kitchens in what had once been the hostages’ barracks, and on a very familiar stove sat a cauldron of stew. The smell made Kei suddenly ravenous, as did the sight of the bread, plain but good, that Tiko cut for him. The captain was kind enough to let him eat a few hasty spoonfuls before questioning him, finding him a mug of water to wash it down. Then Kei’s hunger was slaked enough for him to be polite. “How many more did we lose?” Tiko asked.

  “Three, I’m afraid. There really wasn’t any hope of saving them—the wounds were too extensive and the blood loss too great.”