by Katy Winter
"It may not be necessary, Beth."
"Do not count on it," mumbled Bethel, falling back on his pallet and closing his eyes.
~~~
Bethel's first encounter with the men was a highly unnerving one. For the first time in his life, he was thankful for height that made him tower over other men. Contemplatively he stood looking down at them, as they stared up at him, the men trying to assess him and uncertain what he was, because he looked so very boyish and beardless. They knew he was very young, barely seventeen cycles. His quietness gave them pause. It was unlike the Churchik.
Bethel continued to study them, one man after another, waiting to see whose nerve broke first, his or theirs. He realised how tough and vicious many of them were and conscious, too, that some of these very men had probably savaged his own people, maybe even his own family. Firmly putting emotions to one side, he stepped forward.
"Who amongst you is in some sort of charge?" A tall, lanky man raised his hand.
"I am," he said in an unfriendly voice. Bethel stared down at him, unconsciously imitating his master.
"I have a title. Use it," he said, still very quietly.
"I am - warrior," repeated the man, his eyes alert and unsmiling.
"Get your men to stand easy." The lanky man gestured at the group who casually began to talk among themselves as though Bethel wasn't there. He closed his lips tightly. "Get them under control." His voice was still quiet, but there was an edge to it. The lanky man glanced at him.
"Pay attention," he called out, with no particular emphasis. When the men responded in an off-hand manner, Bethel clearly saw contempt for him in their eyes. He moved closer, his expression stern.
"I wish to speak with you about the move. Also there are things you must know on general matters. You." Bethel indicated the lanky man. "Fall into line."
"I don't take orders from the warlord's fancy boy," came the reply, without rancour. It was a statement and it made Bethel's eyes narrow dangerously.
"Do not make me do something I have no wish to do," he said, still gentle-voiced.
"I can take a whip, boy," said the man emphasising the word `boy` with a gesture of scorn. There was a murmur of approving laughter from the men. Bethel made no attempt to lift his whip. He just stayed where he was, his eyes locked to the other man's.
"So can I," he agreed. "And I have taken it many more times than you have over the cycles. You should believe that. You see, I have an advantage over you." Bethel saw a flicker of disquiet in the hazel eyes, but the man still stood his ground. "As the warlord's slave and fancy boy, as you so aptly put it, I have both witnessed and endured some of his more subtle ways of exacting obedience and compliance. Even when I am absolutely obedient I still experience what you would find hard to bear. I would not wish to inflict what I endure on any man - unless, of course, you wish me to."
The man moistened his lips, his eyes still held by Bethel's hugely mesmerising ones. He read there that Bethel spoke nothing but the truth; he even saw, in those eyes, some of Bethel's pain and suffering. He stood irresolute for a moment, then smartly fell back into line. The other men straightened instinctively.
Bethel let his breath out very slowly, aware of sticky palms – it'd been a bluff, but he seemed to have won this initial encounter. He didn't fool himself by thinking all would now be easy. Again he looked the men over, as much to keep them under control as to stop his limbs from trembling. After a few moments, he spoke in his quiet and gentle way.
"What is your name?" he asked the lanky man.
"Kel -." The man paused. "Kel, warrior." Bethel smiled at him and Kel gave a reluctant return grin.
"I would speak to you after I have spoken to the men. I am unable to be with you at night, but there is someone who will be. Can I leave you with overall responsibility?"
"Aye, young warrior, you can."
Bethel nodded and turned back to the men, gave his orders quickly and fluently, then, when he fell silent the men fidgeted until he added, "Dismissed." His talk with Kel was longer. Then he nodded at the man.
He turned sharply and sought out his unsel. He ducked at the entrance, sank to a mattress and curled himself up to cope with waves of nausea and pain, one worse than the next. His stomach felt so tight he felt he'd snap. He couldn't remember being so miserably ill for a long time. He moaned. He felt Jane's hand on his shoulder, but didn't respond.
"Beth," came Jane's concerned voice. "Beth."
Bethel got precipitately to his feet, blundered outside beyond the unsel and retched. He crouched, then convulsed and heaved again, before he swallowed twice and slowly drew himself erect, unaware of Mishak crouched not far away. Jane approached, waited and observed the tall youth thoughtfully. Then he turned and went back to the unsel, holding the flap back for Bethel to pass under. Bethel sank to the nearest mattress and lay still.
"Too much strain, young one," scolded Jane, pulling cushions more comfortably about the dark head. "You must learn to relax, Beth. No one can keep up the way you do. It's not normal, lad. Ease up a little."
"How can I rest?" demanded Bethel, closing his eyes. "It is not possible for me to rest with my master." Bethel paused and opened his eyes wide at Jane. "I regret it if I do," he added simply. "Haskar Bensar whips us hard if we lose concentration." Bethel gave a deep sigh. "There is no respite for me, Jane, except when I am allowed my music. At least Gariok beats me less these days." Jane knelt and yanked over some furs. Bethel lifted a weary head. "Jane," he said, in the thread of a voice, "I have men under my command, but I lack the skill to dominate others. I never will have the ability to order men. Kel senses that. I am too used to instantly obeying commands to give them to others." Jane stared down as the dark head fell to the cushions and watched as the troubled, exhausted face relaxed and Bethel slept.
Jane sought Kel. He found him swearing roundly at one of the men, his torrent of abuse fluent enough to bring a smile to Jane's face. He waited until Kel turned and saw him. Kel spoke with something very akin to a snarl.
"What do you want?"
"I'm the young warrior's man and you must be Kel," said Jane, going forward with his hand held out. "I answer to Jane. I was a foot soldier until Tempkar Sarssen asked me to come to Beth." Kel let down the saddle and tackle he carried and took Jane's hand.
"Aye, I'm Kel." He smiled ruefully. "Forgive my rudeness, but that man's a born fool!" Jane gave a chuckle.
"There's always one in a troop," he agreed. "Do you look after that whole group I see spread out over there?" Kel followed Jane's gaze.
"Oh, aye, I try." Kel looked over at Jane and said shrewdly, "Why are you here?" Jane pursed his lips thoughtfully.
"To see how I can help, Kel."
"Not about the young warrior, is it?" Jane shook his head.
"Not entirely. I'm always concerned about him, as you'll be in time. But no, I've come because any assistance is easily given." A reluctant smile touched Kel's face.
"That's appreciated, Jane."
He hefted up the saddle, Jane quick to pick up the tackle and the other odds and ends that he saw lying on the ground. With a grunt Kel strode forward, Jane close behind. When Kel finally reached an unsel and entered it, he swung the saddle onto a small table and then turned to stare hard at Jane.
"The young warrior's told me to report of an evening to you. Is that so?" Jane nodded. Kel threw himself on the ground on a mat and indicated that Jane do likewise. "An unlikely one for a warrior, isn't he?"
"It's certainly not what the lad wanted to be," agreed Jane.
"What would he want?
"He's a profoundly gifted musician, Kel, with rare talent."
"No use as a warrior then, is he?"
"He's become one," reminded Jane, meditatively studying the ground. "And to do so among the likes of the Churchik shows much courage and skill."
"Aye," conceded Kel. "He has that, though he looks a mere boy. Where's the lad from then?"
"Ortok."
"I do vaguely reme
mber it. Samar, wasn't it?" Jane nodded. "I wasn't in the assault but I think the place was sacked," commented Kel, stretching out his legs and leaning back indolently on his elbows. "I joined up after Owla, so I've been with the army since south of Dahkilah. How long back is Ortok now?"
"Six cycles about."
"He's been with the warlord that long?"
"Aye." Jane chewed on a stray straw that he'd absently picked up. "He was taken out of a slave pen in his home city of Ortok."
"He must only have been a child!"
"Aye."
"What's the warlord done to him?" Jane's head came up.
"Why do you ask?"
"He spoke to me, just to me, and I saw such depths of pain and suffering in his eyes. How's he been so hurt?"
"Do you have to be reminded of the warlord's reputation, Kel?" Kel glanced across at Jane and a shiver shook him. He looked away.
"Oh aye, cruelty's his second name and we all know what he does to pretty boys. I've seen what he's ordered done and seen him hurt men for a mistake. We've all seen the execution fields, Jane. It sometimes makes you wonder why you came north."
"Think of living with that every day of your life since you were eleven cycles, Kel. And then ask me if the lad's been hurt." Kel was quiet and looked at his boots. When he spoke, he did so in a neutral tone.
"The boy must be a survivor."
"He is," agreed Jane. "But he needs no more frowns of fortune." Kel looked sharply up and across to Jane who held his look.
"You mean me and the men, don't you?" Jane stretched.
"Kel, that's a very gentle and abused boy forced into a mould not of his making, having to live in a society that's the antithesis of his home city. Though he survives, no one fully comprehends the toll it takes of him. He'll deal with you in his way." Jane sighed gustily. "Kel, hurting others is alien to him; I doubt it'll ever come easily, nor is he cruel or an oppressor. He feels things deeply and cares for those for whom he's developed affection or respect. He'd rather work with willing men he could trust, I know that much."
"Do you respect him?" demanded Kel bluntly.
"Yes," responded Jane instantly. "Kel, I first met the lad when he was being punished in a harsh and brutal way. He was only a boy when the warlord had him tethered in the slave caravan, an awful experience he endured without complaint. In retrospect I think he'd have accepted death as well. He has courage, aye, Kel, he has much courage, and stubbornness too. Many would've fallen long ago, and that includes me, but Beth hasn't. I don't know how he's still alive. None of you has the sheer courage of that boy. I'd die for him, Kel." Stiffly, Jane got to his feet and glanced down at Kel, saying softly. "He may be a very gentle boy, Kel, but never mistake Beth for a weakling. That would be a big mistake. I'll come back later to help as promised."
Kel nodded pensively, his eyes following the older man. Left alone, Kel stayed seated, musing quietly to himself. His pondering brought him no immediate answers so he rose and deliberately began work on the saddle.
~~~
Bethel woke rested and warm. He stayed where he was, unwilling to move. Then he wondered about time and reluctantly uncurled, threw off the furs and shivering in the afternoon chill, he quickly dressed, pulling on a heavy doublet in place of the short jacket. He was in the act of pulling on his second boot when he looked up to see Jane enter with his hands full.
"It's like old times for me to feed you thus, isn't it?"
Jane chuckled as he knelt, then leaned towards Bethel with a hot bowl of stew in his hands. Sitting cross-legged, Bethel sniffed appreciatively and took it.
"Hungry, lad?"
"Aye," Bethel murmured. "I am, very."
"Then eat your fill. You don't have long before you're due out with the haskar again. His instruction's very heavy-handed, Beth, isn't it?"
"Extremely," mumbled Bethel, with his mouth full. "I almost practise in my sleep."
"Then there's the assembly of warriors for the warlord." Bethel made no comment in response to that. "Everything's ready for you, Beth."
"I thank you, Jane."
Bethel glanced across at the older man and smiled. Jane grinned back and they ate in silence until Jane spoke again.
"How do you feel now, lad?"
"Very much better, Jane. How long did I sleep?"
"About three hours." Bethel looked quite blank. "It's no problem, lad. I checked on Kel and he and the men do all you ask of them. Kel could be a good man if he ever trusted anyone." Bethel munched on another piece of cheese then washed it down with a swig of badran.
"Many of them are very tough," he commented idly. "I could see that easily enough."
"Life's tough, Beth," was Jane's non-committal reply.
"I will not see you again until morning, Jane," Bethel said quietly, upending his tankard and draining it.
"No, young one, you won't. Doubtless you'll go direct to the warlord after the assembly." Bethel stretched. "What time did you say we move out?"
"No later than midsun, I think. I shall try to be here as soon as I can, Jane. It's just -."
"I know what it is, lad. Much depends on the warlord. I understand. You'll find little to do when you get back to us, Beth. Be easy on that." Jane responded to the sweet and gentle smile with a hand that gripped Bethel briefly, but firmly, on the shoulder. "Get along with you."
~~~
Mid-morning saw the army on the move. Bethel managed to escape the warlord earlier than usual and was with Kel supervising and helping where needed, though he confessed to both Jane and Kel that, with their organisation, he felt superfluous. That brought a grin to each older man's face and a shy smile to Bethel's.
Progress was slow, horses moving at an amble. The sun was out and had warmth, so Bethel was content enough to sit astride his horse and converse with Jane as they rode. Mishak walked beside Jane leading two heavily-laden pack-horses. Kel and his men fell in behind and then the provisioned carts followed them.
Bethel eventually pulled a pipe from his breeches' pocket and began to play it, unaware of the startled looks he got from Kel and the men because he was engrossed in the music. When Jane fell back to Kel, he saw a quizzical look in Kel's eyes.
"Plays as if he was born within the music," observed Kel appreciatively. "Me and the men enjoy the lad's playing."
"Aye, as I said, Beth has talent."
"Aye," agreed Kel, beginning to whistle along with the pipe. After a few minutes, some of the other men began to hum along and Jane had to chuckle as he kneed his horse forward again.
They'd been moving for at least an hour, when Kel noticed a rider come from further up the line. He watched, only vaguely interested, until he saw the form materialise as the warlord, then unconsciously he straightened his shoulders and muttered a warning back to the men. He heard the whispering that ensued before the idle chatter died.
Bethel wasn't aware of the warlord's approach because he talked with Mishak and had his head bent. It was only when he sat upright, that he saw Lodestok. It was with interest that Kel watched how the youth reacted. He saw the dark head instantly submissively bend and also saw complete surrender in every part of the young warrior. It was as if Bethel was someone else entirely, and, since Kel hadn't known what to expect, this surprised and somehow seriously disturbed him. Jane had his head bent too, Kel noticed, but there was not the abject submission in his posture. Mishak sensibly hid behind a pack horse.
"So here you are, flower," came the cold, deep voice. "It has taken me time to find you, boy." When the warlord drew in next to Bethel, he saw the youth's start of surprise. "You surely do not expect me to ride unaccompanied, boy, do you?"
"No, my lord," responded Bethel automatically, raising his head. Lodestok looked beyond him to Kel and the men in a way that made Kel begin to sweat. The warlord's presence was a threat. Kel could feel tension in the men as the look chilled them.
"Are these yours, boy?"
"Yes, my lord," answered Bethel, looking over at Kel with a reassuring smile in h
is big eyes.
"Are they satisfactory?"
"Yes, my lord."
"Make sure they remain that way, boy."
"Yes, my lord." Lodestok still stared at the men, one by one, his gaze malevolent. Then he turned his arctic stare on Jane.
"You are the boy's man, are you not?"
"Aye, my lord."
"Left on your own you do not anticipate problems with the men, do you?"
"No, my lord."
The warlord leaned across to Bethel and tugged at the youth's reins impatiently, his mouth set in uncompromising lines.
"You can hardly expect me to entertain myself, petal. While the army moves, flower, you ride with me as usual."
"Yes, my lord."
"Follow!" instructed Lodestok curtly, backing his horse and kneeing it forward. Bethel grimaced at Jane.
"That settles that," he said quietly, the pipes he held loosely, quickly stuffed in his breeches pocket. Jane nodded. Bethel turned back to Kel. "You heard the warlord, Kel." Kel also nodded, unable to repress a shiver. "Until later, Jane, whenever that is," murmured Bethel, manoeuvring his horse from the line.
Jane watched until the tall figure faded, then he turned to Kel who lifted a hand - he had a faintly ironic smile in his eyes.
"Aye, Jane," he conceded. "I don't deny the lad has courage."
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Ice Isle was aptly named, reflected Autoc. His eyes took in the towering glacial peaks that rose with a sense of overwhelming power and menace to the sky. They rose precipitately from the water where he stood, a slight youth, who shivered with the cold, standing next to him. He turned his head and glanced down at the tall figure staring ahead in fascination.
"Magnificent, isn't it, little one?" he asked, the smile deep in his eyes. Violet eyes looked up into his. In Chlorien's there was no answering smile, only awe and dread.
"Father," she said, so quietly the mage had to stoop to hear her. "I have to do this alone, haven't I?" Autoc put his arm round her shoulders and gave her a hard hug.
"Yes, little one, you do."
"Will you leave me now?" Autoc shook his head reassuringly.
"Not just yet, child, not yet."
"Will I be able to reach you, Father?"
"When it's time you'll call to me, little one. As always, I'll wait for you." Chlorien took a deep breath and swallowed very hard.