Circling Birds of Prey

by Katy Winter

  Two days further on Sarssen stiffened in the saddle, then turned his head to survey Bethel.

  "Company coming, boy. Be on your guard and close your mind. We do not know who comes." His head tilted enquiringly, Bethel glanced curiously at Sarssen.

  "I sense them, too, my lord," he said.

  "Close your mind, boy," reprimanded Sarssen sharply. "Now!" Bethel blinked at the sharp tone but obeyed, not sensing the warrior checked he did. He rode on ahead, his eyes scanning a little anxiously. Sarssen said calmly, "There are six of them, boy. Remember you are Sorien and I am Losaren since we have both got out of the habit of using the names - unless, of course, we know these riders." Sarssen thought for a moment. "Just follow my lead, Beth."

  "Yes, my lord," was the muted reply. Sarssen drew level with Bethel and put a hand on the youth's arm.

  "I am only trying to protect you, boy," he said reassuringly. The gentleness made Bethel look at him. He smiled.

  "I know that, big brother. You have always done so, have you not?" A rueful grin twisted the warrior's mouth.

  "I have tried, Bethel, though not always as successfully as I hoped. I have tried to shield you from yourself and from others. Your becoming Sorien may save your life." Bethel heard the deep chuckle. "And mine, too, boy."

  They rode on, the ground becoming less green and inviting and the sprawling brakes of trees fewer the further on they went. In an hour or less they saw riders approach at a leisurely pace and in less than fifteen minutes they were within sight of the group of six. Sarssen went rigid. His voice was cautionary.

  "Boy, that is Haskar Kher. Watch yourself, Beth."

  Bethel watched the nearing men, alert and wary. He didn't need to be reminded that Luton was with Kher and his heart thudded unpleasantly. Sarssen's mental touch calmed him. He sat his horse, waiting for the warrior to give him the signal for a halt. He watched the six riders approach, come to a stop in front of Sarssen who respectfully bent his head to the older man, and sit easily in their saddles, curious eyes on the waiting twosome. Bethel, immediately to Sarssen's right and a little behind, bent his head, too, but not before he had a glimpse of the older warrior with keen, cold eyes.

  "Haskar Kher," greeted Sarssen courteously. A deep voice, cool and remote, responded.

  "Acedar Sarssen, is it not?" Sarssen lifted his head. "Or are you now a tempkar?"

  "I am, my lord, yes."

  "I see. And where are you going, Tempkar?"

  Sarssen kept very still. He was aware of other warrior eyes upon him, but also saw a long assessing stare out of incurious, large dark eyes from a very thin, dark-haired young man. The gaze was unwavering and intense.

  "We are sent by the warlord to contact a group sent south into the desert some seasons ago. Since there has been no word of them, my companion and I are sent to find them before we return to Kyaran."

  "So you are direct from Kyaran, are you?"

  "Yes, my lord, south and east of the Chasa mountains."

  "Have hostilities begun?"

  "Prior to our leaving, the armies were skirmishing, my lord. Battle was very close."

  Kher's expression was thoughtful until his glance went to Bethel, then his eyes widened a little though he didn't comment on the young warrior.

  "And who is your companion?" was all he asked politely.

  Sarssen didn't miss the haskar's look at Bethel and he was interested nothing was said about the very obvious physical similarity to the young man accompanying Kher. It suggested Kher knew well who Bethel was, or at least his relationship to the mage's apprentice.

  Sarssen signalled to Bethel that he bow, which Bethel, rising gracefully in the saddle, executed, his head still correctly bent in deference.

  "This, my lord, is Beduar Beth. Beduar, you meet Haskar Kher."

  Kher looked hard at Bethel for a moment, before he spoke coolly, "You may raise your head, Beduar."

  When Bethel did and Kher met the big purple eyes, the haskar drew in his breath sharply, because, though the eyes were a different colour, he knew without doubt that he looked upon a brother of Luton's. He continued to stare fixedly at Bethel after the younger man respectfully lowered his eyes.

  "Beduar did you say, Sarssen?"

  "Yes, my lord." Kher spoke, his voice neutral.

  "How long has he been with our army?"

  "Nine cycles, my lord." Kher's voice was extremely quiet.

  "Beduar, are you the warlord's slave?"

  When Bethel looked directly at him, Kher saw how gentle and aesthetic a face it was that looked into his, the beard short and pointed, and the haskar realised the youth was quite one of the most beautiful young men he'd ever seen, north or south. The comments he and his men had heard, for cycles, about the warlord's obsession with a very attractive boy, weren't incorrect. He could well imagine how besotted someone like Lodestok would be of a youth with looks such as these. Bethel was, indeed, an Adonis.

  And Kher remembered Lban's words with clarity, because they were uttered with callous indifference and contempt:

  "- another younger brother. The warlord probably took him at some stage. He was very pretty."

  So the lovely boy had survived. Kher took in the very long queue and realised, with mirthless amusement, that the warlord's tastes still ran to boys with long hair. Kher was intrigued, tilting his head as he carefully listened to the timbre of the voice that would answer him.

  "Yes, my lord, I am his slave."

  Kher heard the same velvety quality that he liked so much about Luton's voice. He looked blandly at Sarssen who appeared equally casual and detached.

  "I missed your name, boy. What is it?"

  "Beth, my lord."

  "Then," suggested Kher, "I think, Beduar Beth, we should all dismount so I can introduce you and the tempkar to my men."

  Sarssen dismounted on the words. Bethel followed him. Kher turned back to his men, signalled them forward and busily spoke with them before he directed them to tether their horses to the nearest bushes. He instructed Luton to take both his and Kher's horses slightly further away and, after Luton obligingly gathered the two sets or reins, he spoke to the men again.

  "Sarssen has a boy with him you will not expect. There will be no reaction when you see him at close quarters or when you think you may know him. You will doubtless be as interested in his reaction to Luton as I will be."

  His four warriors responded in their usual fashion.

  Catching up with Sarssen, Bethel said shyly, "My lord?" Sarssen stopped and turned, a quizzical look in his eyes. He nodded. "I think the haskar knows who I am."

  "Yes, boy," agreed Sarssen placidly. "He knows very well who you are, though how I do not know. Does it frighten you?" Bethel shook his head.

  "Lute made no overture to me, my lord. Am I so changed?" Sarssen looked consideringly at the anxious face.

  "No, Beth. You are not that much changed at all." Sarssen smiled reassuringly, gave his reins to Bethel and stood back.

  Bethel met his brother at the bushes where they both hooked reins over branches and wound them round securely. Luton glanced at the young man facing him, his eyes cold and dark. Bethel just stared incredulously at the tall, dark man with the chiselled features and brooding eyes, and felt suddenly shy and nervous. Luton's height and colouring was how Bethel remembered Sarehl. It was his first sight of one of his siblings in nine cycles, family he'd long thought were dead. He licked his lips. His hand went out tentatively to a brother he didn't know. Luton looked at the hand then ignored it. It fell limply to Bethel's side. Bethel saw a thin Sarehl and Daxel and felt a sharp ache inside.

  "You think you know me, don't you?" said Luton in a flat voice. Bethel took a pace back.

  "Lute," he managed. "Lute, I do know you." He spoke with difficulty. "You are Luton, are you not?" Luton's gaze didn't waver.

  "That's my given name from my master, yes."

  Bethel noticed how graceful Luton's carriage was without realising that it merely reflected his own. He was sudden
ly aware there was a haunted look behind the sombre darkness of his brother's eyes and he spoke with sadness.

  "You do not remember me, Lute, do you? Our home in Ortok, with Sar -. Oh, the gods, Lute." Bethel couldn't go on.

  "I'm a slave and I belong to Blach. The Keep's where my master lives and it's where I'll return if he wills it so. Who are you that I should remember you?" Bethel's lips trembled.

  "You were my older twin brother once, long ago," he whispered in a breaking voice. "Lute, what has he done to you?"

  Luton looked hard at Bethel as if he tried to recall something to mind, but whatever it was it eluded him and he looked away, saying distantly,

  "You're deeply hurt by me. I'm sorry for that. I don't wish to. What's your name?"

  "Bethel," mumbled Bethel, barely able to say a word.

  He blinked savagely at welling tears and walked away to Sarssen, almost blinded and swaying as if he was drunk. Sarssen helped ease the turbulence and hurt, his arm instinctively about Bethel, his grip firm and comforting.

  "Gently, Beth," he sent. "There was no easy way for you to meet your brother. Your distress touches me." Bethel shook his head as if to clear it and brushed a trembling hand across his face. "Come, boy, we shall return to Kher."

  As he spoke Sarssen turned Bethel round so that they could walk back to Kher who stood impassively watching them. Han watched as Luton and Bethel came towards Kher from different angles, his eyes widened, and he murmured to himself as he caught Kher's eye. He shrugged.

  "The likeness is unmistakeable, Han, is it not?" Kher asked conversationally. Han just stared, his glance going from Luton to the tall willowy young man standing not far away with Sarssen.

  "Who is he, my lord?" Kher's expression instantly softened.

  "That is the youngest brother. He answers to Bethel if I recall Lban correctly. He was taken by the warlord all those cycles ago and, like Sarssen before him, has been made a warrior." Han looked quite surprised and sceptical.

  "Has he, my lord? A Samar?"

  "He is a beduar," stated Kher flatly. At that, Han gave a whistle.

  "Luton is a strikingly handsome young man, my lord, but the other is singularly attractive, is he not?'

  "Yes, he is a very lovely boy, and seems to be an easy-tempered one at that."

  Kher turned from Han on the words and calmly introduced his warriors to Bethel and Sarssen, the latter showing his familiarity with the warriors by the partly-inclined head. Bethel bent his in inferiority. Kher then called Luton forward.

  "Beth and I've met," he said indifferently. He bowed to Sarssen. "And you are?" he asked politely. Sarssen sensed the young man's power.

  "I am Tempkar Sarssen," he said affably. "You may call me Sarssen, Luton." Luton nodded, his eyes holding very long contact with the warrior's. "Beth has yearned for those of his family for cycles. To see you alive means a very great deal to him, though he deeply grieves your lack of knowing who he is."

  "I'm sorry for that," said Luton simply, with a familiar shake of his head. "I have no sense of family." His glance rested fleetingly on Bethel before he turned away, almost with a sigh.

  Kher instructed two of his men to organise refreshments, then suggested they all sit on the ground, his look settling on Bethel who still had his head bent. Luton stared into the distance.

  "He has lost memory of all that went before the day he came to awareness in the Keep, Beduar," Kher said kindly. "He is not permitted to remember anything other than what his master allows. You must not think it is because he does not care. I believe, if he could feel anything, seeing you would bring him much joy and comfort, more than you can imagine, boy." When Bethel's head came up, Kher saw the full, sensual mouth quiver.

  "My lord?"

  "You are too alike, boy, for me not to know a brother of his. You are very different, but the familial resemblance is most striking. You are his younger brother, are you not?"

  Bethel's look at Sarssen made the velvety eyes look bigger than usual. Kher transferred his attention briefly to Sarssen because the man interested him as he'd done for many cycles. Sarssen was a survivor. Kher saw the look of reassurance the warrior gave Bethel and then felt the anxious, luminous eyes dwell intensely on him.

  "Yes, my lord, I am Bethel, youngest son of Alfar of Ortok." The big eyes dropped from contact with the cool haskar blue.

  "Your brother's lack of recognition of you must come as a profound and hurtful shock."

  "Yes, my lord," whispered Bethel in a suffocated voice.

  Kher said quietly, "Do not grieve, young one. I believe he will know you one day. That is my wish if it is any comfort to you." Bethel stayed still. "Time will tell us much, Beduar, you must know that." Bethel's head came up, his eyes as dark and questioning as Luton's when he was sentient. It gave Kher a pang, though he couldn't quite grasp why.

  "Time explains things differently to all men," said Luton, accepting a mug from Emil. When Kher turned his head to survey the dark-eyed man lounging next to him, Sarssen didn't miss the expression in the haskar's eyes resting on the young face.

  "That is so, boy," responded Kher, watching Luton drink steadily before the young man turned his attention to Sarssen.

  "You see the future with clarity," Luton said quietly to the warrior. "That's most unusual." Kher's glance flicked to Sarssen who sat easily, his expression inscrutable and his gaze holding Luton's.

  "I thank you, Luton," he replied courteously. Luton then looked at Bethel who turned his head away.

  "You shouldn't be afraid of me," Luton said, his tone oddly flat. "I may not remember you, but I believe you're my brother and I know you've suffered very deeply, haven't you? It shows, Beth, though you hide it well."

  Bethel didn't answer for a moment and no one else spoke, Kher's eyes fixed on Bethel and Sarssen's on Luton. When Bethel spoke it was with an effort.

  "No more, Lute, then I imagine you have done," he said thickly, gulping at his mug.

  "I feel nothing," Luton explained, almost showing surprise. Bethel looked full into the dark eyes of a brother he remembered as so full of vitality and laughter, his own moist.

  "That, Lute, is what I mean," he whispered. Again he drank quickly from the mug. Kher stretched.

  "Luton, you and your brother should walk together. It would do you good to be with someone your age, however briefly, and you must understand that Beth is your family." Luton nodded, rose and stared down at Bethel.

  "Brother," he said awkwardly.

  In his eyes was no smile or recognition. Sarssen's heart went out to him but even more to Bethel when he saw the distress and anguish in the purple eyes that stared up at a stranger. Bethel stood still. When he waited next to his brother, two very tall, slender young men whose very looks proclaimed their close kinship both Sarssen and Kher thought how striking four young men would be since these two made such an impact. Seeing Kher's sharp nod of dismissal the pair walked away, Bethel's unease clear in the set of his shoulders. Kher watched them silently until they shrank to small figures, the shade as ever at a discreet distance. He turned his attention to Sarssen.

  "We have much to discuss, have we not, Tempkar?"

  Seeing the warmth of the smile that came to the green eyes Kher realised, again, even after so long that this warrior's eyes had an unusual depth to them, apart from their very unexpected colour in a Churchik. There was something about Sarssen that eluded Kher. He was sure Luton was right - he'd sensed the younger man's instant respect for the tall blond man. He would ponder this at his leisure.

  "Yes, my lord. Do you wish me to speak of Bethel?"

  Kher nodded, his mug at his mouth but his gaze not wavering from the warrior's face. He listened, asked astute questions, his perception as acute as ever. He knew Sarssen deliberately glossed over the agony and terror Bethel endured, such as he guessed the warrior himself suffered in cycles gone by. He felt deepening respect as he listened to the quiet voice. Occasionally his glance strayed to the distant figures now standing still.

/>   When Sarssen fell silent, Kher remained profoundly reflective. Sarssen placed his mug carefully on the ground beside him then sat quite motionless, nothing in his pose or expression giving anything away. He was a statue of control, thought the haskar. Kher spoke, his voice enquiring.

  "Would you wish to know of Luton? His saga is a sad one as young lives go."

  "Yes, my lord, I would like to know all I can about Beth's brother. He has mourned for them all for so long."

  When Kher spoke his voice was dispassionate, his recital colourless but Sarssen was very quick to pick up the concern and affection that crept in every so often without the haskar being aware of it. He knew instinctively that Kher was deeply protective of Luton.

  While he listened to Kher Sarssen felt grief for Luton's lot, the tale unfolding of abuse no less crippling than Bethel's experiences. It seemed so cruel, he thought, for two boys to have been forced to undergo so much and, like Kher, he wondered why a family had been so singled out for destruction. He also busily assimilated any new information in with what he already knew of Luton so the Mishtok could decide whether there was use they could make of it. He was still abstracted when he heard Kher's voice.

  "You are dreaming, Tempkar." Sarssen abruptly brought his gaze to meet Kher's ironic glance.

  "No, my lord, just thinking."

  "Have you any answers, Tempkar?" Sarssen shook his head.

  "Not really, my lord," he admitted ruefully. "Does the shade do anything, or does it just trail him?"

  "I do not know," was the curt response. "I imagine it shows their master all he wishes to see about his apprentice."

  "Yes, my lord," Sarssen murmured. "Do you wish me to tell you of the northern army?"

  "Do," invited Kher cordially.

  The following discussion was mostly one of question and answer, Kher probing the warrior thoroughly so he had a clear understanding of how things stood in Kyaran. Satisfied, he placed his mug behind him and stretched.

  "You think they are formidable foes, Sarssen?"

  "They will give us a very good fight, my lord," was Sarssen's cool response.