Warlord

by Katy Winter

  It was he who commented to Saren on the odd shaped birthmark Melas carried on her upper arm, but Saren just laughed and assured the young man it continued to fade with time. Unconcerned, Alfar just smiled and promptly forgot about it. Even at his young age Alfar had been chosen, by the Master at the Centre, to undertake advanced learning, the young man expected to reach master status long before the usual time.

  Alfar and Melas mated. A son was born almost immediately. They named him Sarehl in memory of Saren who died before the child was born. Alfar's studies increasingly took up more of his time and he was often sent away to other centres for long spells of research. When at home, he bonded very strongly with his son. Sarehl adored his parents. He grew up, as the cycles passed, to be the image of his father. He would often accompany Alfar to the Antiquities Centre where the little boy would be allowed to potter, and it was in these early days that Sarehl decided he wanted to be a scholar. Other times he'd go with Melas to the artist guild. He was encouraged to learn what he could. Sarehl was a contented and bright child.

  When Sarehl was eight cycles, Melas gave birth to twins named Daxel and Luton, known from infancy as Dase and Lute. As a senior student, Alfar was now more often at home, though he remained deeply engrossed in his work, not, though, to the exclusion of his eldest son. Alfar always had time for Sarehl. He'd already stood for office as an emarchon; again, this was unusual in one so young. Alfar was a much respected young man in Ortok.

  Sarehl, a very tall slender boy with long dark curls inherited from his mother, stood proudly by Melas as he stared down at his small black-eyed brothers. Barely a cycle later another boy was born and this little brother was to mean everything to Sarehl. He adopted Bethel. He took the child everywhere with him. As the child grew, the bond between the two deepened until it was unbreakable, their relationship over the cycles becoming as a father to a son.

  Mylasca died before the twins were born so Melas became increasingly a part of Alfar's family. Even as Alfar encouraged her in this, so he also urged her to spend as much time as she could with an old scholar who came to Ortok just before the twins were born. At that time the old man sought out Alfar and, by the time Bethel was born, he'd become a welcome and accepted part of Alfar's household. Sarehl came to dearly love this scholar, his dark eyes lighting up when he saw the old man walk slowly up the path.

  The old scholar answered to Bene. He was unusually tall, with a head of thick white hair that always looked spiky and disordered. His beard was silver and very long and he walked with a pronounced stoop. His eyes were wide-opened and wise, though Melas sometimes thought they looked deeply sad. They were a very deep violet, almost purple, very like Mam's, said Sarehl, one day on a giggle. Melas frowned reprovingly at him but Bene just laughed, lifted the boy up in his arms and held him firmly.

  Bene and Alfar spent hours together. Bene guided the younger man's learning whenever he was around to do so. Alfar got used to the scholar's coming and going, though Bene was rarely gone for very long, and the younger man enjoyed this charming old scholar's patronage. He told Melas one evening that he often learned more in the hour with Bene than he did from anyone else in a month. Melas merely smiled, conscious of how much she had come to care for Bene and how much more she depended on him than she did on her mate.

  It was only a month after Bethel was born that Bene told Alfar he had to go away, but only for part of a season. Melas felt a strange forlornness as she waved to him, though the smile she got in return was reassuring. Sarehl accompanied Bene and his father to the city gates, where they watched the old man ride slowly in a northerly direction. Alfar stood with his hand firmly on his son's shoulder until Bene was only a distant speck, then he stooped and spoke gently to Sarehl, turning the boy round to move back along the tree-lined avenue.

  ~~~

  A few days after Bene left Ortok, a stranger came to the city. He was tall, even taller than Alfar, with long auburn hair and amber eyes. Once he may have been large framed, but now there was a hollowness to the cheeks and a physical frailty about him, as though he'd sustained a prolonged illness. There was a pallor to his skin that suggested sickliness.

  He claimed he was a scholar in the field of antiquity, and indeed, all the learned men turned to him to listen when he spoke. His knowledge was profound and formidable. He seemed ageless somehow. At times his eyes were colourless pits of nothing, yet frighteningly alive. He seemed, the scholars noticed, to have a lot of time for Alfar, but that didn't surprise them because Alfar was such an outstanding student. Most of his days Elbe, as the scholar was named, would spend beside Alfar. He talked with him and tantalised him with fragments of information, before he'd turn away laughing.

  It wasn't long before Alfar began to bring Elbe home with him. Ortok, as was done in all Samar states, offered rest and food to strangers as a matter of social habit. It was the correct form for Alfar to follow, as it was for Melas to offer Elbe home comforts he may miss. Elbe accepted the offer to reside in the household. After a few weeks he was very much part of the family. Though guest hospitality prompted Melas to accept Elbe in their home, she was always uneasy around him and longed for Bene to return, even beginning to count the days to when she hoped she'd see him again. She knew Sarehl did too.

  Elbe kept very much to himself. He appeared to enjoy watching the children at play in the early days, but later Melas noticed that his eyes would often dwell thoughtfully on Sarehl, and as they did, an unpleasant smile would briefly curl his lips. It happened when he eyed the younger ones too, but to a lesser extent. Sometimes Melas wondered if she imagined things, especially her developing fear of the man. As the days passed, Melas was left increasingly alone with Elbe. Alfar spent less time with the man and more at the Centre. Since she was busy with the three small ones, Melas accepted the situation as she found it.

  As the season drew to a close and the nights became colder, Melas saw a change in Elbe. He seemed more assured and assertive and showed touches of impatience with both the children and Alfar. He laughed more often, but there was a hollowness to his mirth that made Melas shiver. She found it harder to be anywhere near him, and, since Alfar was working late at the Centre, she began to retire early so that she didn't have to be alone with Elbe. She was tired by the end of the day and nearly always fell asleep immediately.

  ~~~

  This night Melas excused herself and climbed into bed, curling up asleep. Coming out of a deep slumber, she woke to a man beside her, opened her eyes lazily in greeting to Alfar, her hand going out to him in a gesture of affection. Instead of her mate she saw Elbe stare down at her. A cruel smile touched his thin lips. His eyes were blazing pits and he looked devilish.

  Melas tried to scream. Somehow she was unable to utter a sound. She was made incapable of any protest, the awful pitiless pressure inside her head distracting her from the repeated violence done her. She felt her head would be crushed. Unconsciousness would have been a blessing. Alfar didn't come home to save her. No one did.

  In the very early morning, Elbe left her bed and quietly dressed. As he buckled his belt, he crossed to the bed and stared down contemptuously. Melas couldn't meet his gaze. Elbe merely casually walked back to the chair to uplift his cloak and then left the room without looking back. Melas lay hurt. Tears dripped from her cheeks to the cushions. In time she dressed to care for the children.

  When Alfar came home later that morning he was apologetic for not being at home the night before, explaining that Elbe had given him research advice that went on longer than expected. Melas merely nodded. Alfar, after commenting on her whiteness and holding her very close, his lips touching her hair, left again for the Centre. He promised to be home early so he could play with the children. He ruffled Sarehl's hair in a caress as he left.

  ~~~

  Elbe didn't go far. He waited on the green outside the Antiquities Centre where he knew Alfar would come, greeted the young man in his usual affable manner, then coldly and cruelly drained Alfar of his essence. He left the emp
tied young man to shuffle his way to the Centre. Wholly satisfied and smiling, Elbe walked through the gates of Ortok, never to return.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Bene returned to Ortok two days later. He was revered as a learned scholar who'd teach anytime, anywhere. His was a gentle approach to learning. He never told a student or an inquisitor anything, always asked questions and then simply courteously discussed the answers he was given. He walked slowly into the city, responding in his gentle way to those who welcomed him back. He went quickly in the direction of the Antiquities Centre, because on his travels he'd come across interesting information he knew would intrigue Alfar.

  His intentions stopped there. Bene took one look at the stooped figure at a desk and involuntarily a thin hand went to his mouth. Alfar never stooped. Bene walked over to Alfar and turned him round. He saw no welcome in the large, eloquent black eyes; there was recognition but no emotion. The young mouth was slack. Alfar's hands were empty. Bene could see that he was doing nothing more than putting one stack of papers on top of another. A wave of nausea threatened Bene.

  He swallowed hastily, saying softly, "Dear boy, I'm back."

  Alfar just looked at him, barely acknowledged him, and turned back to his desk to begin shuffling papers again.

  "Dear gods," muttered Bene, pulling Alfar to his feet. Standing still obediently, the young man stared at the old man. "Come with me," Bene ordered. Alfar inclined his head and nodded.

  The two men walked out of the centre together, well away from contact with anyone. Bene guided the younger man towards the common and beyond that to the meadows. Here it was warm and sunny. Bene let Alfar sink down into the lush grass and the last of the autumn flowers, the young man lying back with a sigh and his eyes staring up at the sky.

  Bene sat beside him. He placed a gentle hand on the young forehead and immediately knew what had been done to Alfar. His face became a mask of fury, mingled with grief and guilt. When he took his hand from Alfar's brow and brushed his hand across eyes that once shone with intelligence and curiosity, he knew there was nothing he could do for this young one.

  Bene got to his feet and looked away into the distance. He felt Malekim. His instinct was to seek him out to make him accountable, but he knew he couldn't. Sadly, Bene turned to look down at Alfar, knelt beside him and placed hands on either side of the dark head. He exerted some degree of pressure until he saw the eyes close and the mouth relax into the smile Bene would always remember and see in Sarehl. Bene took his hands away even as he gave Alfar a grief-stricken look.

  Murmuring, "So it's begun", he picked some of the autumn flowers. He placed them in the hands of the man who'd once been Alfar. Bene stayed kneeling beside the dead man for a long time.

  ~~~

  Bene hastened across the city to Alfar's house as fast as he could, terror and horror of what he'd find driving him. He didn't have far to go. Alfar had deliberately chosen to live as near to the Antiquities Centre as he could.

  When he entered the gate, Bene saw the front door open and Sarehl ran down the path towards him, his big black eyes full of anxious delight. He careered into Bene. Bene stooped and steadied the boy, a hand ruffling the dark curls in a reassuring gesture, then, taking Sarehl by the hand, he looked up to see Melas stand motionless in the doorway. She was white even to her lips. Her eyes were very dark and distraught; she looked deeply traumatised.

  With a rush of pity and anger, Bene walked quickly up the steps to grip her hand in his. Quietly, he led the woman and the boy inside, drew out a chair from the table and made Sarehl sit. Then he gently guided Melas to a deep-cushioned chair where she sank down, looking up at Bene. He crouched in front of her.

  "My child," he murmured.

  She gave a sob, then, her eyes looking directly into his, she asked in a whisper, "Who was he? Tell me, Bene. You know, don't you?"

  Bene held both her hands in his, ignoring her questions as if they'd never been asked. Instead he said calmly, "When did it happen, my child? Just tell me who's hurt you so."

  ~~~

  So Melas did. She told Bene how Elbe arrived in Ortok, almost as soon as Bene left the city, how this scholar developed a rapid friendship with Alfar, the older man sharing his knowledge with the younger man. She explained how Elbe was brought home. She touched on her fear of him, the longer he stayed. When it came to describing what Elbe did to her, she became incoherent. She shook so violently she could no longer speak. Bene put a hand to her mouth and shook his head at the same time as he gave a sideways glance to where Sarehl sat silent. The mage pulled Melas forward so that she rested in arms surprisingly strong for such an elderly man. She remained there, comforted.

  Very gently Bene entered her mind to see what she'd endured for himself. He recognised, as Melas couldn't, the child that would grow: Bene knew that without any doubt at all. His mind reeled at the implications. He knew he needed time to consider. That time wasn't now, because his immediate task was to calm, reassure and compassionately work to lessen Melas' memory. He accepted he'd have to work to subtly alter his daughter's memory, if Melas was ever to live in peace. That she must consider the child was Alfar's was paramount in Bene's mind. He worked swiftly. He erased as much of her traumatic experience as he could.

  As quietly as he'd entered her mind, so Bene left it. He looked down at Melas, her dark curls falling all about her, cheeks still wet. Bene waited for her to lift her head so he could meet and hold her eyes with his in a long and searching stare, and when he did, he felt again the stab of remorse he always felt when he saw her. Her eye colour was his, but her face and expressions were Cynthas. Fury such as he'd never felt shook Bene and made him turn abruptly away because it was as if he watched Cynthas violated, here, in front of him. Bene swallowed bile. That he couldn't comfort Melas as her father compounded his fury. He realised he was digging his nails into his palms. He sought self-control.

  He turned back to Melas. He simply saw confusion and tiredness, but no anguish and no despair. She blinked. Bene got to his feet and began to deliberately talk in an inconsequential way.

  "Where's Alfar, my child?" Melas rubbed her eyes and then her forehead.

  "At the Centre," she replied, without hesitation.

  "He wasn't there when I went to seek him," responded Bene. "Come and help me, Sar," he suggested, as he went over to the fireplace and lifted off the steaming kettle. Sarehl rose promptly.

  "Perhaps," murmured Melas, rising unsteadily and going over to join him, "he's gone for a walk. He's not been himself for the last two days."

  "Oh?" queried Bene lifting up his head. His glance remained unconcerned and casual.

  "He seems lifeless," Melas commented. She took two large mugs from above the fireplace and placed them on the table.

  "He's been working too hard probably," was the reply. Melas sighed. "How are you feeling, my dear?"

  "Tired," she admitted, rubbing her eyes. "I think, with Alfar working such long hours, I'm imagining things. I need you, Bene." Melas smiled gratefully at the old man who smiled so gently back at her.

  Bene held out his hand to the boy. When Sarehl came to him, Bene put his arms around the boy, held him very firmly and affectionately, and stroked the dark curls. He felt the quiver Sarehl gave and how the boy snuggled in as closely as he could. The old man's grip tightened.

  Bene glanced across at Melas, saying softly, "Imagining things isn't unusual when you spend much time alone. Could you and Alfar also be having another child?" Bene saw the startled look. "If odd fears come again, you must tell me straight away so I can make them stay away."

  As he spoke, Bene sat. He now had Sarehl pulled between his knees. The mage stared into the boy's big, black eyes that looked so trustfully into his and in that instant saw how profoundly gifted this child was. A sense of alarm gripped him. Melas spooned honey into the mugs before she passed one of them to Bene.

  "I'm so pleased to see you again, Bene," she said impulsively. Then she gave a tired smile as she added, "I feel happier th
an I have since you went away. We've missed you, haven't we, Sar?" Sarehl nodded.

  "I missed you all," Bene remarked, offering his mug to Sarehl and laughing at the boy's grimace when he tasted the brew. Sarehl leaned back against Bene's chest, his black eyes shining with pleasure at having the old scholar with them again.

  "You should rest, Melas," suggested Bene, upending his mug and draining it. "You could sleep until Alfar comes home." Melas stared wistfully at him.

  "What about the little ones?"

  Bene glanced down at the dark head leaning on his chest, saying quietly, "Sar and I'll look after them, won't we, boy?"

  The dark eyes that laughed up into Bene's drew a grin of response from the mage. Getting to his feet and helping Sarehl to his, Bene leaned across the table and held out a hand to the still wan figure. He followed Melas up the stairs to her room where she immediately curled up on the bed, her hair falling across her face. Bene stooped. He touched her forehead and she was asleep even before he took his hands away. Covering her warmly, Bene stood looking down at her for long moments. Fury gripped him again. It passed as quickly.

  Preoccupied, he went slowly downstairs to see Sarehl point at the twins. Two season old Bethel was wide awake and cradled in Sarehl's arms, the child's huge purple eyes placid.

  "I'll care for Bethel," Sarehl announced, settling himself in a chair.

  "You care deeply for that one, don't you, boy?" observed Bene, seating himself and stretching out his long legs.

  "I care for them all," was the response, "but to me, Bethel's special."

  Bene watched the boy lean over Bethel and croon to him. He continued to watch as Sarehl rocked back and forth, letting his mind wander as he tried to grapple with what had occurred. His musings brought him no relief. His mind went back to that day with Cynthas. In hindsight, he now saw clearly. He knew exactly what they'd done, and acknowledged that the repercussions were endless, like the ripples from a stone cast negligently into the pond. Malekim had known at the moment of their joining.

  Bene realised, too, how unwise they'd been to leave Malekim alive. They'd all thought the mage weakened to the extent he'd never again be an instrument of chaos and destruction, Malekim so devastated Bene found it difficult to comprehend how quickly the mage had healed - he had strength indeed if he'd sensed Bene in the clearing that day. The mage's potential was appalling. If it was Malekim who came to Melas, and Bene had no reason to doubt that what he saw in his daughter's mind was accurate, then Ambros confronted something vile and terrifying. Bene prayed, his heart in his mouth, he was mistaken in thinking the man who raped Melas was Malekim - but in his heart he knew exactly who'd come to his daughter, though the purpose of his doing so eluded him.