The Priest

by Rowan McAllister

  A full night’s sleep hadn’t magically provided him with any answers. Tasnerek was empty and quiet on his chest. He’d used his own life energy to attempt to take the thing with him in death, but Girik—dear, sweet Girik—had spoiled that plan. If he tried the same thing again, he wasn’t even sure he’d have enough strength to finish the Spawn off before he died.

  He’d just managed to collapse back into the pile of straw in the shelter and draw his robes around him like a blanket when he heard Girik and his enormous dog return.

  At least someone hasn’t abandoned me. The second the thought was out, he cringed at how whiny it sounded, even as relief flooded him.

  “Good morning,” Girik said as he dropped a bundle of sticks on the ground next to the weakly smoking embers in the stone fire ring. “I figured you’d be starving, so Bayor and I went out to see what we could find.”

  After getting the fire going again, Girik untied the two rabbits dangling from his belt. “Bayor already had his, so there’s one for each of us.”

  Tas watched in fascination as Girik deftly wielded a small knife and then peeled the fur off the little bodies in one piece. Living in the city for as long as he had, Tas had lost what little he’d learned as a child of fetching and preparing his own food. He’d had his turns at kitchen duty in the keep before he’d become a member of the Thirty-Six, but that had mostly entailed chopping vegetables and scrubbing pots.

  Girik skewered each rabbit on a whittled branch and propped them against the largest rock ringing the fire. He looked good despite the dirt and his obvious fatigue. He was in his element. He’d also gotten dressed, which was a damned shame. The man was truly magnificent naked.

  “We’ll have to wait a bit for the fire to die down to coals before I can get these cooked proper,” he said apologetically.

  “I’m sorry,” Tas replied, blushing at the turn of his thoughts. “I should have done something about it when I woke up. I wasn’t thinking.”

  “You’re a little preoccupied. You’re forgiven.”

  Despite the circumstances, Girik’s smile had the same effect on Tas as it had before. His face heated even more and certain parts of his body stirred. He looked down at his lap in annoyance. He was only hours away from possible death, he barely had the strength to sit up, and his body was feeling frisky? What had happened to him?

  “I hate to be the one to bring it up,” Girik said, interrupting his self-condemnation, “but, since I have a bad feeling you’re not going to let me take you back to the village this morning, I guess I need to know what you are going to do.”

  His words were the equivalent of a bucket of icy water, and Tas’s exasperation with himself evaporated as a cold knot settled in his stomach. “I have to go after it. I can’t let it get any stronger.”

  Girik sighed. “I was afraid you’d say that. But how? You could barely even walk last night. I looked for your horse this morning, but it’s probably back in Elderman Servil’s barn by now. And even if you find it, you don’t have any strength left to kill it. They’re probably already forming a search party. Shouldn’t we wait for help?”

  Tas shook his head. “They may or may not. I can’t wait all day to find out, and it will take them hours to get here even if they’ve left already.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  With a sigh, Tas sat up again and faced Girik’s angry scowl.

  “I have to go.”

  “Why? What is it you think you’re going to accomplish other than your death? Do you want to die? Is that it?” Girik shouted.

  “No. I don’t want to die,” Tas snapped back. “But this is my fault, all of it. If I’d been able to put my personal feelings aside and do my duty—do what I was chosen for—none of this would have happened.”

  Girik’s mouth fell open. “How can you say that? Durn, the idiot, is the one who broke the wall. Or you could lay the blame on the village elders and Brother Lijen for choosing him for the Hunt in the first place. Or the Brotherhood and Harot himself, who’ve lied to all of us. You can blame them if you want, but how is it your fault?”

  Tas shook his head. He would have stood and paced if he’d had the strength for it. Instead he took a moment to wrestle with his temper and sort through some of the realizations that had come to him since the Hunt. He wasn’t angry at Girik. He was angry at himself.

  Wrapping the robe around his shoulders for warmth, he scooted across the straw pile until he could prop his back against one log wall of the shelter. With a sigh, he lifted his weary gaze to meet Girik’s outraged one.

  “Now that I’ve had a little time to think, what happened yesterday made me realize something,” he explained tiredly. “I was so caught up in my feelings of loss and betrayal at all I’d found in those journals, I never stopped to wonder if Harot and the Brotherhood had been right to make the choices they did… to wonder if my vanity and self-importance hadn’t gotten in the way of me understanding the truth, looking at the greater picture.”

  A deep V formed between Girik’s sandy brows and his lip curled, but Tas lifted a hand. “Hear me out. Yesterday, the wall failed because of me. Your villager, Durn, may be an idiot. I don’t know. But he panicked because he lost faith in me, my failure to complete the ritual, my lack of composure afterward. No matter how hard I tried to hide it, they sensed it. I saw it in their faces as we left the village. They were questioning my ability to see them safely home again. They lost their faith, and that is why the wall failed. Maybe—I don’t know—maybe the Brotherhood was right to hide what I found. Maybe the fear people feel for us is as important as the reverence they have or the solace and guidance we bring. Maybe it’s necessary to keep that separation.” Tas closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead as he tried to explain the thoughts that had twisted at the back of his mind since yesterday’s debacle. “We aren’t gods. We have our limits. We need the help the Hunt provides, the eyes and ears, the extra hands. All of it has been honed over centuries. All of those parts working together are necessary, and it all depends on the people believing in our strength. I’m just one man. Who was I to question centuries of tradition?”

  He searched Girik’s face, hoping to see some trace of understanding, especially since he hadn’t quite figured it all out yet. Girik’s jaw worked for a moment before he looked away and shook his head.

  “I think I might get what you’re trying to say, but it’s too much to think about right now… at least it is for me. What it boils down to is that you’re going to blame yourself no matter what I think or say. So you’re not going to let me take you back. Right?”

  He gave Girik a sad smile. “Even if I didn’t blame myself for yesterday, I couldn’t let you take me back. Two failures in a row are inexcusable. I won’t be given another chance. The Brotherhood can’t afford the embarrassment. I’ll be replaced by someone who can do the ritual right… hopefully before winter, if there’s time, and if the Spawn hasn’t moved to another area.”

  “And what will happen to you?”

  His smile faded. “I don’t know for sure.”

  “And the village? Will it be safe?”

  Tas winced and looked away. “I wish I could promise you that. The Inner Circle was already suspicious of me, but they had nothing concrete to act on. Now that they have my failures, their suspicions will grow.” A thought occurred to him and his stomach twisted. “You may be questioned. Especially now, if anyone in the village realizes you’ve come after me.”

  Girik paled, but he nodded. “So really, our only choice is to make sure you succeed and return triumphant.”

  While Tas watched in somewhat bemused silence, Girik knocked the fire down and moved the rabbit skewers closer to the coals. Then he stood up and began undressing. When he was completely naked, he turned to Tas with a wicked little smile on his face, quirked an eyebrow, and gave Tas a slow, deliberate once-over.

  Despite the gravity of his current situation, Tas couldn’t stifle a snort even as his heartbeat sped. Things had moved way past ri
diculous and into the realms of the comical. The snort turned into a giggle as Girik waggled his eyebrows and closed the distance between them.

  “Do you ever think about anything else?” Tas teased, wanting to hold on to this feeling just a little longer.

  “I’m a simple man,” Girik replied with a good-natured shrug.

  “I doubt that very much.”

  Girik’s smile warmed and he shrugged again. “Anything for the cause, then.”

  When Girik knelt on the straw and crawled toward him, Tas didn’t pull away. He licked his lips as his pulse quickened and his breath grew shallow. Girik was beautiful. He was bruised. He was dirty and disheveled. But his quiet strength and the unfettered flame of his spirit shone from his eyes like a beacon. Girik was himself in a way Tas envied. Despite his clawing fatigue, Tas desperately wanted to be close to that flame, to experience that freedom, if only secondhand.

  Why not?

  He could spare a little time. The hum from Tasnerek told him the Spawn wasn’t moving any farther away. If he could recharge a little, he’d definitely have a better chance at killing it than he did now. That was the goal, wasn’t it? He wasn’t just trying to go out in a blaze of glory before he took anyone else with him. His brush with death the night before definitely made that notion much less romantic than he’d imagined it to be.

  And if he was going to die in a few more hours, he wanted this to be the memory he carried with him to the Beyond.

  Tas released his grip on his robe and let it fall open as Girik leaned in close. Girik must have read Tas’s acceptance in his face because his smile widened.

  “You know I’ve been thinking too,” Girik whispered into the scant few inches between them.

  This close, the striking blue of Girik’s eyes was almost swallowed entirely by his pupils, and Tas couldn’t have looked away even if he’d wanted to. “Oh?”

  “Yes.” Girik’s grin fell as he held Tas’s gaze intently. “You said the emotion was almost as important to the ritual as the sensation.” His gaze dropped to Tas’s lips, and he traced a finger lightly over them before staring into Tas’s eyes again. “I heard you, but I think I was a little too distracted to use that information. I can do better.”

  Tas was having a little difficulty concentrating himself. “I thought you did just fine. After all, we hardly know each other. I’m the one who didn’t know what he was doing.”

  Girik shook his head as he lips curved. “No. I could have done better. We may barely know each other, but you have to understand. In my life, I’ve had to make the most of what little time I get with a lover. I’ve seen enough of you to get an idea of the kind of man you are. I could have used that, and I didn’t.” When Tas frowned and started to argue, Girik was the one to hold up a hand this time. “I’m not saying this to throw blame on myself. I’m saying it to tell you I’ve learned from my mistakes. I’m saying it to let you know I have feelings for you. I care for you. And maybe you knowing that will make this better for both of us.”

  “Girik, I—”

  “Don’t argue with me. Don’t say anything. Just use it.”

  A storm of confusing emotions swirled in Tas’s chest, but he nodded in response to the question in Girik’s eyes. Tas was the one to lean in and press their lips together this time. He kissed Girik with abandon if not skill, but Girik didn’t seem to mind. He kissed until he was breathless and a little dizzy. He kissed until Girik’s words truly sank in and formed a warm ball inside him.

  When they broke apart to catch their breaths, Girik drew Tas’s robe completely off his shoulders and draped it over the straw. Tas allowed Girik to tug his shirt off next, and the chill air made Tas plaster himself to Girik’s body. “Gods, you’re so wonderfully warm.”

  A chuckle rumbled through Girik’s chest and into Tas’s. “I’ve never been happier about that than right now.”

  Tas gladly lay his tired body down and allowed Girik’s larger one to blanket him in that warmth. Girik propped himself on his elbows and smiled down at him. “Shall I take care of you first, like last time?”

  Tas’s body clamored for him to grind against Girik’s hard belly, but he shook his head. He felt more energized than he had when he’d woken, but he had no idea how long it would last. He couldn’t afford to fall asleep before he could even attempt the ritual. “As exhausted as I am, a little tension and denied gratification will do me good.”

  Girik kissed and nuzzled his neck, making Tas instantly regret his noble sacrifice, but he could content himself with allowing his hands to roam over every inch of that magnificent body and feeling those soft lips on his flesh.

  Yet again, Girik was right. Knowing that the man welcomed his touch, wanted and cared for him, made all the difference. As a member of the Brotherhood, Tas had been taught to love and care for all Rassans equally, but he was also a man, and Girik called to that part of him he’d thought long dead. The sensations Tas experienced this time were so much more intense. If what he’d said was true, and Girik felt anything close to what Tas did, they might stand a chance of coming back alive.

  Hope and tenderness blossomed in Tas’s chest as he cupped Girik’s jaw and pulled away enough to hold his gaze. “You’re going to have to let me take over now, because if you keep that up, I’m going to forget all about my duty.”

  “And that’s a bad thing?”

  “Is this painful?” Tas asked instead, lightly touching the bruises purpling Girik’s side from shoulder to waist.

  “A bit,” he replied absently as he traced tender fingertips over Tas’s collarbones.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. It was my choice, and I’d do it again.”

  As another wave of tenderness welled in his chest, Tas struggled to remain focused on what had to be done.

  “On your side,” he ordered. “I can’t reach you like this.”

  Girik grinned and snuck one more kiss in before he rolled onto his good side and raised his eyebrows, waiting. Tas stifled a smile of his own and shook his head. This was serious. With everything at stake, and everything that might happen, he shouldn’t be smiling this much. But Girik did that to him, and he liked it.

  With his heart far lighter than it should be, Tas rolled to join their bodies again as he started to softly sing the melody from his childhood. Tasnerek began to glow instantly, and a feeling of warmth and—dare he call it—approval radiated from the stone. The memory of the strange voice in his head from the night before tried to intrude on the moment, but he wouldn’t let it. He could only deal with so many things at once, and Girik laid out for him like a feast, all tender and willing, was distraction enough.

  Almost with the first touch after keying Tasnerek, Tas could tell this time would be different. It might merely be wishful thinking on Tas’s part, but he didn’t think so.

  “Should I move behind you again?” Tas whispered breathily.

  “No. I want to see you.”

  Girik’s gaze was almost frighteningly intense. Tas didn’t know quite what to do with what he saw there, even if he could put a name to it. He stopped singing long enough to give Girik a quick kiss before taking up the song again as he trailed tender fingers down the man’s golden-stubbled cheek. He moved his hands south, teasing and petting while avoiding the worst of the bruises. Girik’s thick cock jumped when Tas slid the backs of his fingers down his belly. A quick glance up showed him Girik’s gaze had dropped to follow Tas’s hand expectantly, and Tas smiled. He wrapped his fist around Girik’s cock with much more confidence this time.

  As he began to stroke, the flow of energy intensified like before, but what he didn’t expect was the sudden increase when Girik cupped his jaw and whispered Tas’s name.

  Tas glanced up and found Girik’s gaze locked on his face again. “You’re so beautiful,” Girik breathed, ending on a moan.

  Tas had to concentrate hard to keep the melody going. He stroked his thumb through the wetness on the head of Girik’s cock, working it into the slit and th
en down. He almost lost the rhythm he set when Girik reached beneath Tas’s arms and untied the cord at the waist of his trousers.

  “I want to see you,” Girik moaned.

  Cool air touching the moist head of his own cock was very distracting, but the surge of pleasure energy from Girik kept him on task. Tas was pretty sure he couldn’t possibly be maintaining the concentration he needed to continue the stream of energy to the stone, but somehow the flow never wavered. Thoughts of divine intervention entered his head briefly before he discarded them. It hardly seemed appropriate that a god would help him at a time like this, and he didn’t have the brain power to spare worrying about it now anyway.

  The occasional hitch in Girik’s panted breaths and tension in his body let Tas know the man was close. Despite his own flushed state of arousal, exhaustion still hovered in the wings, waiting to drag him down again. His arms and wrist grew weaker with each minute that passed. There were so many things he wanted to do with this man before their brief interlude inevitably ended, but he simply didn’t have the strength or the luxury of more time.

  Girik’s fist closed over his and squeezed and stroked harder. With a long low moan, Girik finally closed his eyes, arched his back, and released into the cage of their hands. Tas continued to pump until the last of the shudders wracking Girik’s body stopped and the man eased his grip. Though Tas hadn’t done much more than lie there and move his arm, he panted right along with Girik for a long time before Girik opened his eyes and smiled.

  Girik cupped Tas’s jaw in one big hand and traced a callused thumb across his cheek. “You’re so beautiful.”

  “You’re the only person to ever say that.”

  “Out loud maybe. I’m sure plenty of others have thought it. Are you sure I can’t take care of you now?”

  Tas couldn’t suppress a little shiver at Girik’s deep, husky rumble, but he shook his head. “I can’t. Not now.”

  “There are so many things I’d like to do to you, to teach you. But I’ll never get the chance, will I? Was it enough, at least? Was I right?”