by Xenia Melzer
Casto regarded the slaughter taking place in front of the city skeptically. Kalad was doing well, but the superior forces were crushing him, and his men fell one after another.
“I don’t think Canubis is able to give orders at the moment. He’s busy.”
“He’s a god. When he wants us to attack, he’ll tell us. I didn’t reach this age by ignoring the Wolf of War’s orders. He told me to stay put, and stay put I will until I hear otherwise.”
Angrily, Casto stared at the battlefield, his blood roaring in his ears. He couldn’t let Kalad be overrun by the enemy. If Markon managed to break up their flank, then the end of the battle was becoming uncertain at best. Canubis’s plan would go up in smoke, and the ensuing chaos would make victory questionable.
The thought that Renaldo was at the center of the slaughter made Casto heave. No matter how skilled and powerful the Angel of Death was, not even he was able to withstand such superior numbers forever.
Determined, Casto turned around to the other riders. There were a hundred of them, and twenty-five were sitting on horses he had trained. He’d taken great pains to imprint every horse on him. In the beginning that had been just another ace up his sleeve in case he wanted to escape. Later he simply thought it a good idea that these painstakingly trained warhorses that brought death to their enemies should be in the control of not only their riders but also Casto himself.
Right at that moment, he was glad he’d gone to the trouble. His voice unwavering, he addressed the riders of the special horses. “I’m going to charge. You fall back and keep open the breach. That should be enough to distract the enemy and give Kalad a chance to regroup.”
Angrily, Belnor steered his horse next to Casto.
“Don’t listen to him! He might be the Angel of Death’s favorite, but he’s still just a slave. We won’t do anything unless we get an order, understood?”
Torn, the warriors glanced from Belnor to Casto, plainly wavering between the obedience they had been taught so mercilessly, that Belnor was now asking of them, and the burning desire to get down and help their brethren.
Casto smiled weakly. “Don’t be angry with them, Belnor. They don’t have a choice.”
Before the mercenary realized what Casto meant, the young man had given a high, shrill whistle. Casto’s horses pricked their ears and then, following his orders, deployed behind him—not entirely against their rider’s wishes.
Casto led them to the enemy’s rear, and after a moment’s hesitation, the remaining riders followed, including Belnor.
Lys was like a force of nature coming down on the enemy lines. His hard, iron-shod hooves dealt pain and death while Casto ploughed a bloody breach through the soldiers. The black stallion was unstoppable, as if death itself had descended upon the enemy and made them scatter in blind panic. Those who weren’t fast enough to dodge the whirling hooves were trampled mercilessly into the ground or fell prey to the warriors coming after Lys and Casto. Like hungry wolves they attacked the confused soldiers who had been completely taken by surprise by this new development.
Dealing lethal blows with his sword, Casto reached the spot where Markon’s men had managed to isolate Kalad.
Markon’s objective was definitely to get the Emeris down, but Kalad didn’t make it easy for them. He struck as fast as a viper, his sword slashed out in quick succession, and the only thing that could bring him down was the sheer number of his enemies.
Lys broke into that circle like a hawk onto a flock of doves. With well-aimed kicks, he provided the desert warrior with some breathing space.
Kalad turned to Casto with a grin. “Does Renaldo know what you’re doing here?”
“What do you think?”
“You’ll be in trouble. In deep, deep trouble.”
“Would you prefer I left?”
“No way!”
After the short exchange, they concentrated on fighting again. The surprise attack from Lys and Casto had confused Markon’s men. Halfheartedly they defended themselves against the riders widening the breach in their ranks while Kalad regrouped his men and started a counterattack.
HIGH ON the walls of the city of Ki’t, Markon witnessed gloomily as his army was slowly decimated.
The woman standing next to him looked aghast.
“It seems your talent as a seer was overestimated, priestess. We are losing.”
“That’s impossible. I’ve seen it! The desert warrior will fall.”
“Did you see the demon coming to his rescue?”
“No. I don’t understand this. It’s as if he’s able to elude my gaze, as if he’s not really here. Who is he? If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s protected by magic, but that’s impossible!”
Markon’s gaze grazed Casto’s bright blond hair and turned into the distance. “I think I know, but it’s no longer important. I’d advise you to make your peace with that goddess of yours. Because one thing’s for sure, the Wolf of War is not going to show any of us the least bit of mercy.”
CASTO DIDN’T know how long he’d been fighting. Judging from the sun’s position in the sky, it was already past noon, but he didn’t really care. The enemy’s resistance had weakened during the last hour. Bit by bit the fight had turned from desperate self-defense into merciless slaughter.
After Kalad regained the upper hand, they’d stuck to the original plan and started to broach the enemy’s flank. The riders made quick forays that scattered the soldiers like panicked sheep, making them easy prey for the mercenaries fighting on foot.
Aegid had done the same on his side, and the center of the adversarial army faltered under the attack of the demigods.
Casto’s world had shrunk to killing his enemies. Ducking attacks, starting counterattacks, parrying swords, severing limbs and heads. He and Lys were covered in the blood of the fallen, the thick, metallic scent burning into Casto’s nose. It was the first time in his life that he’d shed blood like this, and a small, still-innocent part of him was repulsed by his actions. But with every life he took, that part of him shrank and became weaker and weaker, until it died without Casto even noticing it. Before he knew it, Casto had transformed into a full-fledged warrior, baptized in blood and gore, heralded by the shrill sounds of metal upon metal and the eerie, mind-numbing choir of the dying.
The armor Renaldo had given him was superb, protecting him like a shell while his sword cut through soldiers’ bodies without resistance, even late in the afternoon when he’d long stopped counting the bodies he left in his wake.
To his enemies, Casto was a fairy-tale monster, so completely in sync with Lys it was like they were one creature that bathed in the blood of those who dared to confront them. He killed with the cold precision of an experienced predator and appeared invincible. No matter who or how many went against him, Casto came out as unscathed as if protected by some powerful charm.
Not only the soldiers were dumbfounded. The warriors of the Pack couldn’t help but admire the slave who had changed the course of the battle.
They all knew Casto. Every one of them had their personal opinion about the young man who was able to get along with the incalculable, aloof Angel of Death. Not everybody liked him, but they all respected his strength, his unbending will, and now also his abilities as a fighter. Watching Casto was like delighting in a beautiful, deadly dance acted out by a talented, rigidly trained dancer who was also extremely easy on the eyes.
It was as if amid all the blood and gore, Casto’s true predatory nature shone like a beacon.
WHEN THE sun’s last rays kissed Ki’t good night, the area in front of the city gates was scattered with corpses. The mercenaries had won, but they’d paid an unusually high price. Quite a few of the fallen wore the armor of the Pack.
Exhausted, Casto slid from Lys’s back and leaned against his flank.
The black stallion looked around with a satisfied air. The killing hadn’t drained but revived him. Deep down, Lys would always be a demon of chaos, and what had happened that day was v
ery close to his true nature. He was also proud of his rider’s performance.
Casto took the water Kalad offered him.
“Nice fight.” The desert warrior’s voice was derisive as always; he regarded Casto with an unfathomable look. “You’ve saved my ass today, Casto. I won’t forget that.”
The young man grinned broadly. “It was my pleasure.”
Kalad grinned back. He placed a hand on Casto’s shoulder and punched him in the ribs with the other. As complicated as the young man could be, Kalad truly liked him.
Then Aegid approached them with long strides. The giant’s voice boomed. “You stupid idiot!”
The two men embraced each other violently and shared a long, deep kiss.
Casto delighted in this rarely shown open affection, but the moment of peace didn’t last long.
With anger oozing from every pore, Renaldo stormed toward him. Unlike Aegid, his voice was a barely audible hiss. “Which part of ‘keep out of trouble’ didn’t you understand, Casto?”
He grabbed Casto with iron fists and started shaking him as if he were a rag doll. Casto’s teeth rattled violently, which caused Kalad to intervene.
“Hold it, Renaldo. He’s wounded.”
Immediately Renaldo stopped shaking Casto, his eyes wide in worry.
“It’s nothing big, Barbarian. Just a few scratches.”
“You should’ve seen him, Renaldo. He fought like a lion. Not to mention Lys!”
Full of admiration, Kalad bowed to the stallion, who received this gesture of respect with a graceful snort.
Renaldo looked at his brother-in-arms coldly. “The two of us will have a talk later!” he said menacingly, implying that Kalad wouldn’t like the content of that talk at all. Then he turned to Lys. “Get on your stallion, Casto. We’ll go back to the camp.”
Without a word of protest—now that he had stopped fighting, he was way too tired for that—Casto hopped onto Lys again. The stallion trotted contentedly next to Renaldo, careful not to step on the bodies lying around. Now that the battle was over, the steed behaved like a noblewoman who didn’t want her precious sandals sullied.
KALAD AND Aegid watched the powerful warhorse and the two men with mixed feelings.
Aegid was just glad to have gotten his brother back in one piece. Although they were Emeris and immortal, it was still like a knife in his heart every time Kalad got hurt.
Kalad never wasted too many thoughts on the past. He’d been in a dangerous situation, but now everything was fine again, and with that the problem was done with. What bothered him more was a thought that had flitted through his head when Casto had crushed the enemy lines like death itself to rescue Kalad. At that moment Kalad knew who Casto was—but right then he couldn’t remember what he’d thought during the battle, no matter how hard he tried. All he knew was that it was important. Very, very important. He shook his head vigorously. The more he concentrated, the blurrier it got.
“He’s going to nag him badly.”
Aegid’s voice distracted Kalad from his musings. He shrugged. “Better him than me.”
“He saved your ass.”
“And I’m really grateful to the arrogant bastard. But I still prefer him getting the blame. You know what Renaldo can be like.”
Aegid laughed happily. He was so relieved that his brother was fine he let his impoliteness slip for the time being. “You’re insufferable!”
“Admit it, it’s what you love about me!”
“Could be. Perhaps I’ve just gotten used to your presence over the years.”
Kalad smiled, satisfied with how things had worked out. Suddenly he felt the urge to celebrate. “Let’s go see Daran. I want him.”
Aegid’s pale eyes came to life. Merely mentioning their slave was enough to get him in the mood.
Arm in arm, the desert warriors went to get their reward.
WHILE RENALDO and his slave returned to the camp, they remained silent. One of them because he was so angry, the other because he was still exhausted from all the killing.
They left Lys in the care of an eager stable boy at the paddocks before they went to Renaldo’s tent. Renaldo helped his slave to strip out of clothes slathered with blood and filth, still not uttering a sound. He took off his own clothes before leading Casto to the back part of the tent, where he started to wash him.
Carefully, Renaldo removed the traces of the slaughter from Casto’s skin; he looked after the countless cuts and bruises that weren’t as bad as they’d seemed and started to massage oil into Casto’s velvet skin.
Only when Renaldo was done did he feel calm enough to talk to his stubborn slave about his behavior. “How could you do that, Casto? You endangered yourself without thinking, although I’d forbidden it. Why? Is it some kind of reflex with you that no matter what I say, you do the opposite?”
Casto narrowed his eyes in defiance. “How could I not have done it? How could I look into your eyes if something had happened to Kalad? You’re my teacher. I couldn’t endure disappointing you like that.”
With a sigh, Renaldo took his beautiful slave’s face in his hands. He kissed him tenderly and allowed himself to get lost in the emotions. He understood very well what had moved Casto, and he scolded himself for forgetting that the young man had the heart of a warrior. “I’m proud of you. You’ve been very brave today.”
At those soft words, something changed, like a breeze stirring the air in the tent, like the drop of a small rivulet unexpectedly turning into a roaring flood. Casto had braced himself for a heated argument, but he felt a wave of affection flooding his soul, and for the first time since they’d known each other, the love he felt for the Barbarian was not accompanied by anger about that same fact.
Also, for the first time, he saw the Barbarian not as his oppressor, as the person who’d stolen his freedom, but purely as the man he was.
It was almost too much. Reluctantly, Casto pulled away from Renaldo’s grip, not sure what he should do next. When he made up his mind, he took the sponge, suddenly not only willing, but indeed eager to please the warrior.
“Please, my lord. Allow me to wash you.”
With a nod, Renaldo showed his consent and somehow managed to hide his excitement.
Casto dipped the sponge into the water, wrung it out, and started to wash the enemy blood off his master’s skin. He did it with full respect, with all the devotion he had, completely overwhelmed by the love that he finally yielded to without resistance. He knelt to wash Renaldo’s legs and feet, his mouth level with his master’s pelvis. Only once had Renaldo tried to coax him into fellatio, but the thought of humiliating himself so completely had repelled him.
Now he wanted to do it, wanted to show his master how much he respected and loved him. His sensuous lips came closer to Renaldo’s penis.
Renaldo held him back with one hand. “You don’t have to do it, Casto.” Renaldo’s voice was soft, kind.
Casto smiled at him brightly. “I know. That’s why I want it.”
With that, he returned his attention to the Barbarian’s wakening dick. Casto pressed small kisses over the whole length, marveling at the smoothness of the skin, and then he took the tip in his mouth.
A flood of emotion overwhelmed him.
Starting with the salty taste, followed by surprise about the texture, and ending with a strange feeling of power when he realized that Renaldo was giving in to him completely. For a moment Casto was shocked, but then he used all means possible to satisfy Renaldo.
Before Renaldo reached climax, he retreated from Casto’s mouth, picked him up, and carried him to the bed. Their lips joined in a passionate kiss, and with his hands, Renaldo allowed Casto a first, relaxing orgasm using the semen to slick Casto’s hole. Then he turned him around and entered him in one swift movement, only to pause and enjoy their intimate union.
Casto whimpered softly, longing for Renaldo to move inside him, but he didn’t want to rush him, wanted to wait for him as Renaldo had done countless times for him, esp
ecially in the beginning.
Their lovemaking went on for hours, and the moon was already round and full in the sky when Renaldo poured his essence into his lover for the last time.
For a few wonderful moments, they stayed intimately joined before Renaldo retreated. He wanted to get up to clean himself, but his delectable partner held him back. With his eyes glowing softly with love, of his own free will and eagerly, Casto cleaned his master, a service that until then he’d regarded as the worst of punishments and that he’d resented with all his might.
For the first time in his life, Casto understood what it meant to respect somebody else from the bottom of his heart, to love him unconditionally. When he was done, Renaldo pulled him close, and together they rested on the furs, naked. Their bodies still radiated heat like dying bonfires.
Renaldo traced his lover’s skin dreamily. “Thank you, my own.”
Casto snuggled closer to his lover. “I thank you.”
“What for?”
“That you didn’t lose it, despite your fury.”
“What good would it have done?”
Suddenly serious, Casto sat up; his eyes were shadowed. “You could’ve punished me. And though I probably wouldn’t have liked it, it would’ve been your right. I disobeyed you.”
“Who says I’m not going to do that? Punish you, I mean.” The gray eyes sparkled in mockery. Casto sighed and Renaldo sobered up. He could feel something was amiss. “What is it, my own?”
“I killed so many people today.”
Casto’s voice was flat, as if he was trying not to show his emotions. Immediately, Renaldo started to worry. Because Casto was so arrogant and forward, Renaldo sometimes forgot how young he still was. “Do you regret it?”
A strange light shone in Casto’s eyes. “No. Those men intended to harm you. They deserved death.”
“Then what’s the problem?”