Healing Lance (A Warrior's Redemption 1)

by M. D. Grimm

  Did that make him a monster? By the way the minstrel spoke about it, he should have relished the kills, bathed in the blood, eaten flesh. He hadn’t. But he also didn’t know where he came from. Did Ulfr summon him from the dark pits of Snet?

  If so, why did that baby girl make such a difference? Why did she affect him so?

  He felt too much now. He… gods… he loved this town. He loved Thebys. Yet everyone wanted to kill him. They cheered for his death and destruction.

  He loved Gust.

  Lance tripped and face-planted into the dirt road. Pain radiated through his nose and jaw, and he gasped for air, rolling onto his back. He stared up at the star strew sky.

  Love.

  Was it love? What was love? He’d heard the word before. He’d thought he’d seen it in Thebys, between husband and wife, between parent and child.

  Was that what this warm, fuzzy, jumping-frogs feeling was in his stomach? Was love why he always smiled and relaxed when Gust was near? Was love why he feared so much for Gust’s safety? Why he’d clutched him not too long ago with no intention of letting go?

  The minstrel’s words came back to him. He groaned and closed his eyes, curling up on the ground. He was a monster. Monsters were bad and should die. He didn’t want to be a monster. Could he change it? Could he be something else? If he killed the other monsters, saving lives, wouldn’t that mean he was different? Wouldn’t that mean he wasn’t Scourge anymore? He didn’t want to be an affliction. He didn’t want to be a weapon.

  He squeezed his eyes shut and gripped his head. “What do I do? What do I do?”

  If he begged the gods would they answer him? Would they strike him dead for being a spawn of their enemies?

  “Lance!” Gust dropped down next to him and gripped his shoulder. “Hey, are you all right? What’s wrong? Talk to me!”

  Lance covered his eyes, unable to stop trembling. Gust tugged him into his arms and rocked him.

  “You’re all right. You’re safe. I’m right here,” Gust said softly.

  A strange burning sensation pricked his eyes, and Lance pushed his face against Gust’s chest, taking deep breaths filled with Gust’s subtle, musky scent. He was a healer and he was beautiful. Lance couldn’t fathom harming him in any way so did that mean he wasn’t a monster? He didn’t want to hurt anyone. He wanted to protect everyone.

  Protect them the way he hadn’t been protected.

  Memories stabbed his mind—the pain, the humiliation, the touching. He’d never felt it until right then. Lance gripped Gust tight as a sob escaped him.

  Gust flinched before holding him closer. “Easy there.”

  It was getting hard to breathe, and the burning in his eyes was growing painful. He moved his face away just enough to gulp in air. Wetness soaked his face, and he finally realized he was crying. He couldn’t remember crying before in his life.

  Lance tilted his head up and gazed at Gust’s beautiful face. The spirit behind those intense eyes was even more beautiful. Something Lance would never be.

  Gust wiped away the tears gently, his gaze filled with compassion and concern.

  “Am I a monster?” Lance croaked. Gust would tell him the truth. Gust would never lie to him. He wished he could say the same. He wanted to tell Gust that he was Scourge but terror kept him silent. He would lose his friend. He would lose the man he loved.

  Gust’s eyes widened. “What? No! No, you’re not. Why would you ask that?”

  “The—the minstrel—” He exhaled sharply and nuzzled Gust’s chest. So warm, so comforting. “I didn’t care once. I didn’t…. I felt nothing when I was under Ulfr’s command. I was broken.”

  Gust kissed his forehead, and Lance’s tears stopped. He breathed easier. Gust said he wasn’t a monster. He was the only one Lance could trust.

  “Will you tell me?” Gust asked quietly.

  Lance shrugged. What could he say that wouldn’t give away his secret? “I told you he found me. I don’t remember anything before him. Then he trained me. When he ordered me to kill someone, I did it. I never hesitated. I didn’t like it but he told me that was my purpose.” Shame clenched his stomach. “And he… he t-touched me.”

  Gust’s grip became hard as iron, and when Lance looked up, he was startled to see the ferocious light in his green gaze. A warrior’s gaze. His jaw appeared clenched.

  Lance wanted to stare at him forever.

  “I’d heard rumors about….” Gust said softly. He shook his head and kissed Lance’s forehead again. “I’m sorry, my friend. I am so sorry for all you’ve been through. You’re not a monster, Lance. You’re a victim. Ulfr is the monster. Scourge is the monster. When he comes here, gut him and show him that you’re stronger than he’ll ever be.”

  Lance swallowed hard, taking strength and finding peace from Gust’s words and his encouragement. He closed his eyes, listening to Gust’s heartbeat.

  “Thank you.”

  After a long moment, Gust stood and helped Lance to his feet. Lance rubbed his face and shoved back his hair.

  “Do you want to—” he said.

  “I’ll stay with you tonight.”

  Lance smiled in gratitude and because he needed it, he reached out and gripped Gust’s hand. Gust squeezed him back and they walked side-by-side back to the field.

  Lance lay awake, watching Gust sleep. Such a precious man. It was in Gust’s arms when he realized that when Ulfr arrived, the bastard would find great pleasure in announcing Lance’s true identity, just as Ragel had tried to. Gust would learn who he used to be. It would become painfully obvious when Ulfr arrived without the black-armored Scourge. He was rather surprised Gust hadn’t made the connection yet. Perhaps he believed the extravagant tales of the minstrel? That he was a spawn of darkness.

  Lance didn’t know what to believe about himself. He thought he was a man. He knew he was different, had always known. His “broken brain” as Ulfr described it, kept him apart. Isolated.

  He should tell Gust first, before it was too late. But how? When? How could he push the words from his mouth? How could he speak the words he knew would end their friendship? Gust would run away in fear. Or try to kill him. And he’d let him. Lance swallowed hard. He would stand there or even lower to his knees and let Gust kill him.

  Gust trusted him and told him he wasn’t a monster. He would surely change his mind as soon as he found out Lance used to be Scourge. But it would be worse if Ulfr said it. He knew the town would kick him out as soon as Ulfr was dead, as soon as his identity was known.

  Would Gust come with him?

  Stupid question. Gust would hate him. He’d be right to hate him. Gust would never accept him… would he? He’d healed Dakar even after the bastard hurt him. Gust was kind and patient to those he didn’t like.

  Lance tugged at his hair in frustration, swallowing a growl. He closed his eyes, knowing he should be sleeping. Knowing he wouldn’t. He rolled on his side and lightly stroked a finger down Gust’s cheek. Smooth and firm. His lips were pretty too, plump and well-shaped. Lance liked his dark skin, liked that it was so different from his own. He remembered when they hugged, when Gust kissed his cheeks. He liked affection.

  His groin throbbed uncomfortably, and his cock was forming a much larger bulge in his trousers than mere seconds ago. His eyes widened. Was that…? He palmed the bulge and painful pleasure coursed through his body. He gasped before slapping a hand over his mouth. He didn’t want to wake Gust until he figured out what was happening.

  He knew about sex, of course. He knew about self-pleasure. He also knew about rape, far too much for comfort. He’d seen Ulfr’s monstrous erect cock too many times for comfort. He’d seen Ulfr’s men, and even some of the women, violate and rape their victims before killing them. He knew all aspects of sex, even the lighter, consensual aspects. There were a few devoted couples among Ulfr’s gang, and he’d walked in on a few in mid-act, both gaining pleasure.

  But for himself? Other than Ulfr’s groping, he’d never experienced any o
f it.

  Lance considered Gust. What would it be like to press against Gust if they were both naked? To kiss him on the mouth? To do things. Touch. Hold. Kiss all over.

  His erection thickened and he groaned behind his hand.

  Think of something else! Anything else!

  Lance rolled over, his back to Gust, and thought of combat, of the battle yet to come. Fear gripped his heart and thoroughly deflated his erection. He blew out a breath. Thank the gods!

  “Lance?”

  His heart drummed against his ribs, and he felt guilty for some reason. “What?”

  “Not sleeping?”

  “No. Can’t.”

  Gust sighed. “You need to try.” He rubbed Lance’s back, and Lance clenched his teeth as his erection struggled to surge back to life again.

  “Please don’t touch me,” he said.

  Gust stilled, then withdrew his hand. “All right,” he said stiffly, hurt obvious in his tone.

  Lance clenched his eyes shut. Did Gust want him the same way? Could such a blessing be possible?

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  “It’s all right,” Gust whispered back calmly.

  “Be careful when he comes. Please.”

  “You as well. Try to sleep, Lance.”

  “I’ll try. For you.”

  Gust chuckled faintly and Lance smiled, though it was strained. He waited until he heard Gust’s breaths deepen before quietly and quickly gathering his things. He saddled a confused Brutus in the dead of night and urged them away, leaving Gust in the tent. He would find Ulfr before he arrived at Thebys. It was the only way. He couldn’t stay any longer. He couldn’t risk Gust knowing about him.

  Leaving tore at his heart and he swallowed against his tight throat. He should have left days ago. This was his fight, not the town’s, and he had to be the one to end it.

  Chapter Twenty

  Lord Khepi was quite accommodating even if he was sweating profusely, and his eyes skittered over Ulfr and his warriors as if they were rabid dogs about to attack. Yes, Ulfr was quite pleased with the weak man and his dim wife. Their two young sons were hard to resist, and Ulfr promised himself that once he took care of Lance that he would return and take full advantage of that weak will.

  Ylva had left soon after they arrived at the manor with two of his best warriors, both women, on some errand, and he was happy the bitch was gone.

  So close. He was so close to revenge. It was regretful and necessary.

  Memories bubbled as he sat in the camp they’d built in front of Lord Khepi’s manor. Lance had been a quiet child, always observing, big blue eyes staring at everything. He’d never cried or whined or yammered on the way other children did. He didn’t start to speak until about two years after Ulfr found him. Even when Ulfr smacked him around Lance stayed silent, eyes hard, face pulled into a grimace. Tough little snot. Pretty too.

  Lance had been Ulfr’s little shadow for the longest time until he became a man, one deadly and obedient. Even when Lance took Brutus from him, Ulfr still found use for them. His pride in his creation never dimmed and his trust never wavered. Then, in a finger snap, all his hard work died in the bloody mud.

  Ulfr gripped his hands together and growled. He’d cut up that pretty face before hacking at his body with his axes. Not even that damn horse would stop him. He felt a twinge of something just under his cold heart and brushed it away. No one crossed Ulfr Blackwolf and got away with it—especially not someone who owed Ulfr his very life.

  “Ulfr.”

  He looked up and scowled at Mundi and Magni as they hurriedly approached. Twin brothers with equal viciousness, they were his favorite warriors. But right now, he was in no mood to be social.

  “Charis just returned,” Mundi said.

  “She said Ylva sent her back to warn you,” Magni continued. “Lord Semesy has already sent soldiers to aid Thebys.”

  Ulfr surged to his feet. “When? Where are they?”

  “A couple days ago. They’re on the main road moving fast and—”

  “To arms!” Ulfr shouted and whistled for his horse. Mundi and Magni sped off as all his warriors scrambled for their weapons and steeds.

  This could ruin everything. He wouldn’t allow anyone to interfere with his revenge, especially not a pompous and weak lordling. This had to be swift and decisive. He prayed to his gods that the queens either didn’t know or hadn’t sent their own soldiers yet.

  They rode out and charged hard down the main road. Charis led the way and Mundi and Magni galloped just behind him. The rest of his loyal warriors brought up the rear, eager for blood.

  They rode through most of the night and finally found their target. They took the soldiers by surprise, and it was as satisfying as he hoped it would be. Blood was like a drug, the smell and taste of it. He hacked down men in gleaming armor and stately tunics, loving the feel and sound of bones breaking, muscles rending, men screaming. It was music and he was drunk on the power over life and death.

  The soldiers were small in number and unprepared for an ambush and so easily overwhelmed. Ulfr stood amidst the carnage, grinning, ecstatic. So this was the help they deemed enough to go against Ulfr and his warband? Pathetic.

  “Burn the bodies, keep the helmets,” Ulfr said. “Let’s make sure Thebys knows exactly what happens when they test me.”

  As his warriors followed orders, Ulfr looked down the road. “I’m coming, Lance. Get ready to meet the gods.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  It was barely dawn and they hadn’t gone far before Brutus decided to rebel. They’d managed to sneak out of town by passing through the unfinished part of the wall to the west. They’d past beyond sight of Thebys, and Lance was ready to let Brutus loose to gallop as hard as he wanted. That was when Brutus stopped short and neighed shrilly. His ears flattened and he braced his legs, refusing to budge.

  Lance grimaced, heart pounding in panic and confusion.

  “What are you doing?” He slammed his heels into Brutus’s sides but nothing happened. “Don’t do this! Not now! We have to find Ulfr. You’re wasting time!”

  Brutus shook his head violently, wrenching the reins from his hands. Lance was in shock. This had never happened before. He dismounted and gripped the bridle itself, using all the strength he could muster to hold his friend’s head still.

  “Don’t you understand this has to happen? I have to protect everyone by leaving. And I can’t let Gust find out I’m Scourge. You know I can’t!”

  Brutus whinnied and snapped his teeth, stamping his front legs. He attempted to pull away and Lance held firm.

  “You are infuriating me!”

  Brutus neighed again as if to say, “And you are infuriating me!”

  Then Lance fell into a blistering argument with his horse who gave as good as he got. Lance understood his horse as few men could and knew exactly the point Brutus was making. He was so intent on making Brutus see the wisdom of his logic that he failed to recognize the beat of hooves until the rider was upon them. He cursed and spun around to mount Brutus right as the rider shouted.

  “Lance!”

  Lance spun around again. “Gust?”

  From the light of the new dawn, the fury in Gust’s gaze was evident. He leapt off his horse and without pausing, slapped Lance right across the face. Stunned by the show of violence, Lance staggered and didn’t know what to do. Then Gust shocked him again by pulling him into a tight hug that took his breath away.

  “Friends don’t abandon each other,” he whispered in a choked voice.

  Lance held him close, shame, confusion, and fear swirling like a dark mixture inside. “I just—I thought it would be best to face Ulfr away from Thebys. I wanted to find him first. The fight is between him and me.”

  “And what then? What happens to you then? Do you honestly think Ulfr will let you fight one-on-one? Isn’t it more likely he’ll have everyone gang up on you?”

  “I don’t know. I think I can goad him into a fair fight. With
him dead, his warriors won’t know what to do. He’s like a god to them. It doesn’t matter what happens to me. I have to save you and your town.”

  Gust pulled back and grabbed his face, strong hands pressed against his cheeks. He acutely felt every place their skin touched. Gust’s eyes burned like emerald fire.

  “Of course, you matter, you idiot. You matter to me.”

  Lance closed his eyes as shame washed over him again. He was just so damn confused. What was the right decision? Was there even one?

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  Gust hugged him again as Lance’s heart ached.

  “We return together. We’re stronger together. Trust me.”

  “I do, Gust. I do.”

  They returned to Thebys as the sun broke the horizon.

  Lance cuddled the puppy close under the watchful eye of Nawa. The dog licked his cheek and wiggled his tail hard enough that his butt jumped around. Lance nuzzled the small life before setting him on the ground. Two other puppies jumped up, trying to reach his face. He picked them up one at a time, giving them each a turn. Then three adult dogs came closer and nuzzled him for attention. He chuckled and scratched their ears.

  It was still the morning of his ill-advised attempt on leaving. He happened to walk past Nawa’s property after separating from Gust who was called to assist in a birth, and she had her dogs and puppies out for exercise. Gust only left after he gave his solemn oath to stay and face Ulfr with the people of Thebys. Several folks he vaguely recognized milled around to keep the dogs from going too wild. Without Gust by his side he had to gather his courage and approach Nawa, asking permission to play with her dogs. She hesitated only a moment before giving it. He was beyond thrilled. Now happiness nearly burst his chest. The soulful dark eyes of the wolfhounds reminded him of Brutus although there was none of the divine intelligence. He didn’t have to put on a show for them or pretend to be anything. He could just pet and scratch them and earn their affection that way. So simple.