Braving the Storm

by Xenia Melzer

  “Then the marauders came. Back then, times were difficult. There was always a war going on somewhere. There was always an army marching past. Our village was so tiny and poor, it usually stayed unnoticed. The men who ambushed us had just lost a battle. They had managed to escape from the slaughter and were drunk from all the fear they had felt, all the terrible things they had seen. They passed our village and decided to revenge themselves on us.

  “It was harvesting time, so most of the men and a good portion of the women were out in the fields. The few who had stayed behind had no chance whatsoever against the invaders. They killed the old folks and the children without mercy. The smallest ones hadn’t learned to walk yet. Then they herded us women to the square. We were six, they were thirty. We didn’t stand a chance.

  “They raped us, again and again, mutilated our bodies beyond imagining, and crushed our souls. In the end, I was the only one who survived, but it was a close call. And sometimes I wonder whether those who died weren’t the luckier ones. I’m carrying the scars on my body and soul with me, and they remind me every day what I had to endure.”

  Cornelia fell silent for a moment, her hands trembling.

  “All this happened a long time ago, and yet it still hurts to talk about it, although I know that those who did this to me have long since become dust.”

  “Have you forgiven them?”

  A strange light appeared in her eyes, a light that terrified Sic, for it made Cornelia’s face look like that of a creature born from nightmares.

  “Forgiveness is a big word. I’m still not sure what it truly means and if I’m able to offer it. Those men hurt me both physically and mentally, but they couldn’t destroy who I am, for I was too strong. So in a certain sense, I have triumphed over them. But if I will ever forgive them—I don’t think so. If they were still alive and I could get my hands on them, I’d probably do things to them that would make their crimes appear harmless in comparison. Once you’ve gone through what we had to endure, you have to learn the meaning of forgiveness and mercy anew. I’m not sure if I really want that.”

  Perturbed Sic stared into his tea. “Can something like this be forgiven?”

  He looked up when Cornelia caressed his arm.

  “I guess it depends on the kind of person you are. I assume you don’t know whether you should forgive Noran?”

  “It’s complicated. He’s not a stranger, nobody I can hate wholeheartedly. He saved my life when he bought me from Dalwon. For more than eight years, the better part of my life, he was the center of my world. Admittedly, he was never easy, but he was always fair toward me. I was never punished without reason or treated cruelly like Dalwon used to do. Noran had been really kind. He deserved my gratitude and love.

  “When I betrayed him, it was only just that I was punished brutally. What I did cannot be forgiven. And yet he allowed me to stay alive….”

  “But?”

  “But he had no right to abuse my love for him to make me compliant. He forced me, took me against my will, but the worst thing was that he made me grateful for it. In the beginning, I was just glad he still acknowledged me.

  “When he started becoming crueler, I began to hate him, or at least I thought it was hatred. But why do I crave seeing him? Why do I want to hear his voice so badly? I would give everything if things could go back to the way they were before my betrayal. I can’t stop wondering whether it was my fault in the end. I don’t know much about his past, but Hulda told me Noran has been betrayed before. What I did must have been like a blow to the face, especially after he had started treating me so well. I forced his hand, and I abhor myself for it.”

  Sic was crying now. The tears streamed down his cheeks and fell into the tea and on the table. Cornelia got up and took him in her arms.

  “Shh, Sic. It’s fine. Let the pain go. Let everything go. You have all the time in the world, so take it.”

  For a long time, they sat there, Sic cradled in the arms of the Emeris. The sun had started going down on the mountains when the smith finally calmed down. Cornelia caressed his cheeks soothingly.

  “I don’t envy you, Sic. The men who raped me were strangers, and the only thing I ever felt for them was hatred. Your relationship with Noran is a lot more complicated, and I only begin to understand how difficult this must be for you. To be honest, I don’t know what I should tell you.” She paused. “Except that you have to forgive yourself first before you can even think about forgiving him. Things have changed drastically for you, Sic. Yes, you did betray Noran, but you did it out of love. No matter the outcome, your actions were not designed to deliberately hurt him and he had no right to do to you what he did. He should have been able to see past the obvious and acknowledge how hard this has been for you. Instead he acted like a child, lashing out at the one person who loved him unconditionally. That is his sin, not yours and you should not take on that burden in addition to your own. In the end, you have to follow your heart in this.”

  The young man looked up.

  “My heart says I love him, no matter what he’s done. But Cornelia, he has never told me he loves me. He admitted that he wanted to destroy me. I’m in love with a man who doesn’t give a damn about me.”

  Again Sic started to cry, deep, throaty sobs, after speaking out loud for the first time what agonized him so much. Cornelia watched him helplessly. She realized there was no helping the young Emeris, that nothing she could say would change anything. She patted his shoulders.

  “Perhaps you should try getting your mind off him. You’re a man, so you don’t have to be on the receiving end during sex. Not being the victim, but the one in control, could help you gain a new perspective.”

  Sic stared at her with bloodshot eyes.

  “You mean regarding the Spring Ceremony?”

  “Not necessarily. Renaldo and Canubis would understand if you refuse to participate.”

  The smith’s shoulders slumped.

  “I could never do that to them. It’s the first Spring Ceremony with all the Emeris present, the first time they’ll hold the ceremony as full-fledged gods again. I know how unbelievably important this is to all of you.”

  “You’re a good man, Sic. Yes, it is important for us all. I haven’t been in the Valley for as many centuries as Aegid or Kalad, but I’ve been here long enough to know how tiring the waiting has been. We all can feel the shift, and we’re all very excited. Still, you should listen to your heart. You’re going to live for a long time, Sic, and no matter what the poets may tell you, time does not, as a rule, heal all of your wounds. This is something you have to do yourself.”

  Overwhelmed by misery, the smith slumped forward.

  “So what should I do?”

  “Try something new. Escape your old ways. Go to Aegid and Kalad—they’ve tons of experience with noncommittal sex. I’m sure they’ll be able to help you. Try it. Even if it doesn’t work, you can still say you made the effort. Don’t get caught up in this monster of a relationship you have with Noran. Things will sort themselves out once you gain a little perspective. And let me stress again how important it is for you to forgive yourself.”

  She smiled warmly. “Of course, you’re always welcome to visit me. I like you, Sic. You’re a good, gentle man. Usually I’m only this relaxed around my brother.”

  Confronted with such trust, Sic bowed low to his new sister.

  “You’re very kind, my lady. I’ll gladly accept your offer.”

  “THE TIME has come, brother. We’ve our first opportunity to quit Daran.”

  Aegid’s face was dark when he spoke those words; he was still not happy about Kalad’s plan but didn’t have a better idea.

  “Who?” Kalad’s voice sounded strained. He wasn’t happy either. Since the night they had decided to part ways with Daran, his mood had hit a new low point every day.

  “Sic. I just talked to him, and he asked for our help. He wants to deal with what Noran has done to him, and he wants to start by finding out what it feels like wh
en he’s in control during sex.” Aegid sighed, not happy at all. “It’s almost as if the Mothers have orchestrated this. Sic is inexperienced and friendly. We can be absolutely sure Daran won’t be hurt. And he’s our brother-in-arms, so he’s family as well.”

  Kalad straightened. He knew there wouldn’t be a candidate better suited for their plan than the new Emeris. “Let’s go ask Daran.”

  The young thief had just returned from a riding session with Casto and was exhausted. When he saw the serious expressions on his masters’ faces, he knew something was off. His heart started beating loudly in his chest for fear they would tell him he was already sold.

  Kalad spoke first. “Daran, we want to ask you something. It’s very important, so listen closely. Do you understand?”

  Dazed, the young man nodded.

  “As you know, Sic has gone through some horrible experiences concerning the bed. We want to help him get over his trauma. If you agree, we would take you to him tonight. It’s a great responsibility, since he’s inexperienced. He’s going to need your help and guidance. Do you think you can do it?”

  No! Daran wanted to shout in their faces. He couldn’t do it. The thought alone of anybody but his masters touching him made bile rise in his mouth, yet he knew he had to give his consent. If he didn’t want the brothers to sell him anytime soon, he had to demonstrate his absolute obedience to them, even if it meant lying. When he answered, he refrained from looking at them.

  “This is kind of unexpected, Master, but I’m going to do it. Lord Sic is very friendly, and he deserves happiness.”

  Aegid and Kalad exchanged a look. They hadn’t thought Daran would give his consent so easily, and they felt a painful sting when they realized the young man wasn’t as committed to them as they were to him. Anger flared in Kalad’s eyes, but Aegid raised a warning brow and his brother contained himself.

  “That’s very generous of you. Take the rest of the day off and make yourself presentable. We want Sic to be as comfortable as possible.”

  With his gaze still cast down and his heart beating like a war drum, Daran retreated. The desert brothers stayed in the main room, both busy getting their emotions under control and telling themselves that everything was fine, that they were glad about how things were turning out.

  It was the biggest lie ever.

  A SHARP knock pried Sic from the draft he was pondering. He was planning to make a special dagger for Casto, a small token of gratitude for all the things he had done. Sighing, he went to get the door, a little miffed about the disturbance. Kalad stood in front of him, a cheerful smile on his face and Daran waiting behind him.

  “Sic, may we enter?”

  “Of course. Please forgive me, Mas—please excuse my rudeness. I didn’t expect a visit so late.”

  Kalad’s brow arched. It hadn’t escaped him that the last Emeris still had problems embracing his new standing.

  “I’ve been talking to Aegid, and he’s told me about your problem. We discussed it, and here is your solution.”

  He grabbed Daran’s wrist and pushed him toward Sic.

  “You already know Daran. He’s well-behaved and glad to help you. Whatever you’re asking for, Daran will be thrilled to give it to you. Isn’t that so, little thief?”

  The young man looked at his owner, full of love.

  “Whatever my master wishes.”

  Kalad patted the young man’s cheek before he turned to the door.

  “Enjoy yourself, Sic. Don’t hesitate about anything. This night is yours alone.”

  Despite the cheerfulness in the desert warrior’s tone, Sic could sense an underlying tension, which left him insecure about what to do. Before he could react, Kalad had vanished through the door. Embarrassed, Sic regarded Daran, who had, until recently, outranked him by far and was now standing in front of him with his gaze demurely cast down.

  He wore dark green linen trousers that hung low on his hips. His naked torso was slick with oil, the well-defined muscles highlighted by the light of the candles. As usual, he had his long hair in a braid. A hint of kohl accentuated his expressive brown eyes.

  Sic had the feeling the young man wasn’t comfortable, but was afraid to confirm it, since he wasn’t sure it wasn’t him projecting his own feelings of insecurity. Daran moved slightly, and Sic approached him hastily.

  “Are you all right, Daran? Do you want to sit down? Are you thirsty? Or hungry?”

  The thief looked up, amusement and something darker and more dangerous sparkling in his eyes.

  “No, I’m fine, Lord Sic. I’m waiting for your orders.”

  “Orders?”

  “How you want me to be.”

  “How I want you…. To be honest, Daran, I don’t have the faintest idea. What do your masters usually do with you?”

  Daran shrugged. Again Sic got the impression that the young man was trying hard to suppress his true feelings, to maintain a façade, but before he could confirm his hunch, the thief answered him.

  “Whatever they please. When they’re already aroused, they don’t waste time on formalities, and just order me to undress. When they’re in the mood to play games, I make a little show of stripping for them, and in turn they take their sweet time teasing me. It’s entirely up to you.”

  Sic tried to make up his mind.

  “What do you want, Daran? How do you wish to be taken?”

  Hastily the young man lowered his gaze. Still, Sic had caught a glimpse of the crimson in his cheeks. The feeling that Daran didn’t really want him, that he hated being here, was overwhelming for a moment.

  “What I want is irrelevant. You’ve heard my master—this night is for you. I’m whatever you want me to be.”

  Somewhat reassured by those words, Sic approached the thief slowly. Carefully, as if he was afraid to burn himself, he reached out and touched Daran’s face. Then he leaned in to kiss him, only to stop a hand from the slave’s face. Whatever the young man had just told him, there was no way he was here voluntarily. Sic reared back.

  “I think we’d better not do this. Thank you for offering such an opportunity to me, but I simply can’t do this. You can leave, Daran.”

  The thief looked up in surprise. The tiniest hint of relief tainted his voice. “You’re sending me away, Master? Have I made a mistake or offended you? If so, then please punish me and allow me to make up for my blunder.”

  “You didn’t do anything wrong, Daran. I’m just not ready for this yet. You can go back to your masters. Tell them I’m grateful.”

  Slowly Daran turned to the door. It was obvious he was torn.

  “As you wish, my lord.”

  AFTER DARAN had gone, Sic fell down on one of his lounges with a sigh. He did not know whether he should be relieved or sad about what had just happened. Mainly he was glad he was no longer responsible for making the night a success. Still in turmoil, he decided to get back to his drafts. There was a tricky problem still waiting to be solved. He had just begun with a new sketch when the knocking started on his door again, this time a lot more aggressive than before. It seemed as if his work wasn’t meant to be done tonight. He only hoped it wasn’t one of his brothers-in-arms again, trying to help him.

  It was Aegid and Kalad, both enraged, dragging a contrite Daran so brutally into the room that he fell on his knees in front of Sic. Kalad didn’t bother with any polite conversation.

  “Sic, what has this piece of trash done to make you send him away? Speak freely, because we’ll use it as measurement for the severity of his punishment.”

  Taken aback by the sudden outburst, Sic raised his hands. The desert brothers’ wrath had obviously not much to do with Daran’s behavior toward the new Emeris. Where the problem really was, Sic couldn’t tell, and so he tried to smooth things over as best he could.

  “Kalad, please, calm down. I assure you, Daran’s behavior was blameless. It’s my fault, and I’m sorry you underwent all this trouble. I’m just not ready. Your slave really tried to help me.”

 
The furious warrior turned to the kneeling thief.

  “Is that true, slave? Have you been obedient?”

  “Yes, Master. At least, I tried. Perhaps I wasn’t convincing enough, I don’t know. Please, forgive me.”

  “Kalad, I assure you, he’s done nothing wrong.”

  The Emeris’s features softened a little.

  “Stand up.”

  Trembling, Daran obeyed. Imploringly he looked up at his owner, who extended his hand to caress his face.

  “I’m sorry, little thief. It seems I’ve punished you without reason.”

  With his eyes closed, the thief leaned into his master’s touch.

  “You own me. It’s your right.”

  Fascinated, Sic watched as all fearful tension vanished from Daran’s body while he completely gave in to his master’s gentle hands. Aegid stepped close to Sic, his voice soft. Something had just changed; the smith could feel the shift in his bones. Whatever was going on between Daran and his masters had calmed down considerably, at least for the moment.

  “If you want, we’ll show you how much fun sex can be.”

  Taken by surprise, Sic turned to the giant.

  “You would do that for me?”

  Aegid chuckled good-naturedly.

  “Of course. You’re our brother. We’re glad to be of help. Besides”—his eyes lit up in amusement—“sometimes we like having an audience. Relax and enjoy the show.”

  With this he went to his brother and Daran, slung the young man’s braid around his wrist, bent his head back, and started kissing him. Kalad left his slave’s mouth to his brother’s ministrations, his hands stroking lovingly over Daran’s torso, his lips fastened on the thief’s right nipple while he got rid of his trousers. Daran’s member came up hard. Groaning, he rubbed himself against Aegid, who was now entering him with two fingers. Helpless in his lust, the thief hung between the strong bodies of his masters, willing and ready.

  Sic’s breathing hitched, his own erection waking in reaction to the open display of lust in front of him. This was indeed different than everything he had experienced so far. Daran showed no hints of fear or shyness toward his masters; on the contrary, it was obvious how utterly he trusted them. He offered himself without fearing the strength of the brothers.