by Devon Vesper
He shoved his chair back as he stood, every muscle screaming for him to run, his heart rate skyrocketing with the loud clatter of tumbling chairs as the Aesriphos rose with him. He darted glances from one Aesriphos to the other, noted the darkening scowl on Darolen’s face, knew he’d hit his mark. “You’re just like them. Only wrapped different.”
Kerac’s eyes darkened with what looked like betrayal. “Valis—”
Ignoring Kerac, Valis stormed away from the table. Darolen caught his wrist. “How dare you—”
Valis didn’t wait to hear more. He wrenched his wrist out of that grasp and bolted for the door. He was halfway through the fields before he heard someone pounding after him, crushing low crops under boot and vaulting the taller rows just as sure as Valis did.
He almost made it to the latrine shed on the other side when a meaty hand caught his bicep and spun him around. Darolen caught him before he tumbled to the grass. In a surprisingly gentle hold, he kept both of Valis’ arms to keep him from escaping. Cold dread settled in Valis’ stomach. He didn’t dare fight. Not this time. This time, he had no one to save him, and he’d eventually have to return to the house, face them again.
Instead of fighting, Valis went limp in Darolen’s grasp. Not enough to sink to the ground, but enough that Darolen loosened his grip just a slight bit more.
The craggy warrior jostled him lightly. “Look at me.”
Valis shivered. That tone made Valis cringe in on himself. Roba’s voice overlaid it, made Darolen sound exactly like the man he’d feared all his life. But he lifted his attention to look at Darolen’s nose, refusing to meet the wolf’s eyes.
“You can’t run away from everything, Valis.”
He gasped and finally met Darolen’s gaze, his mouth working until the words came. “Why not? I couldn’t ever run away from father. He always had a way of finding me. Was always faster, stronger. You?” He snorted. “You won’t stay long. I can run from you as much as I want!”
Those craggy features hardened, and the man’s grip turned to steel. It didn’t hurt. He didn’t squeeze. But it was like he wore his plate gauntlets, instead of his hands being made of mere flesh and bone with the tension that ran through him.
“You would run from duty the rest of your life, then?” Darolen narrowed his eyes and jostled Valis again when he ducked his head. Waited until he looked up again before continuing. “You can’t run from your problems if you want to grow. Or will you let a man who can’t control you anymore continue to run your life, even long after he’s rotting in prison? Will you let your aunt and uncle pick up where your father left off?”
He pressed his face close to Valis, forcing him to look eye to eye. “Or will you sell this farmstead? Come with us and forge a real life for yourself? Become someone you can be proud of? Learn skills and knowledge that can carry you through your days whether you remain with the monastery or use what you learn to go elsewhere and thrive?”
He remained like that for a moment more, then backed off and released his grip on Valis’ upper arms. “You may not trust us, but we are doing all we can to make sure you are safe, and that you have more choices than working yourself to death while waiting for your aunt or uncle—or both—to come avenge your father’s capture. Do you want that? Is that the life you want to lead? Escaping sacrifice at your father’s hands just to end up on your aunt or uncle’s blade?”
Each word sank like stones in Valis’ head and gut. They made him so heavy that he sank to his haunches and hung his head. “I’m sorry.”
Darolen huffed and squatted in front of him. “If you don’t stop running, you’ll die a slave. Do you want that?”
“No.”
“Then grab your courage by the throat, boy, and stop running. We can’t do this for you. This duty is yours, and yours alone to bear. We can help, but you have to do the work if you want to get out from under your family’s evil. You have to want a better life to achieve it.”
He used a single finger to tilt Valis’ face up. “Will you let us help? Or will you continue treating us like we’re just as bad as the pile of garbage in your sitting room?”
Valis flinched again and jerked his head in a negative motion. “I—I’m sorry.”
The craggy warrior stared into his eyes a moment longer, then the hardness melted away and he spoke more softly. “Go finish your lunch. Kerac is keeping it warm for you. We can speak more on this when we’ve all calmed down.”
He stood and held his hand out to Valis. When Valis placed his shaking hand in that larger one, Darolen’s fingers closed around his in a firm grip that wasn’t crushing and hauled Valis up out of his squat in the grass. “Will you let me start taking bids?”
Feeling like he had no choice, but determined to make it his choice, Valis nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Good lad.” He fell into step beside Valis, staying close without touching and turned a rare smile on him. “Don’t worry. I’ll get you what this place is worth. And you will keep the money. You’ve got my word on that.”
Chapter Seven
When Valis and Darolen returned to the house, Kerac was nowhere to be seen. If Valis felt a little lost by that, he didn’t let himself dwell on it. True to Darolen’s word, though, Kerac had kept their food warm, and the two sat down at the table to finish their midday meal. It surprised him that Darolen didn’t say a word, and the tension that was in the air before was now completely absent.
After they finished, Valis tended his chores as normal, careful to avoid the scorched earth where his mother’s pyre had blazed through the night, protected by a golden shield so as not to catch the surrounding grass or anything else on fire. Darolen’s speech about not running away from duty hit him hard, and he realized that the past days since his father had been captured and thrown into stasis, Valis had shirked most of his outside duties except the bare necessities of feeding the animals and milking the cows. Field work could be put aside. He would never let the animals suffer because of his own negligence.
Now, though, he almost relished his duties. His father wasn’t watching his every move. His mother couldn’t suffer if he did something his father considered wrong like taking a short break or taking too long to relieve himself. He even went into the house for a snack without having to beg for a scrap of food to tide him over until dinner, though every time he did, his stomach rolled with nausea, waiting for Darolen or Kerac to admonish him. It never came.
But every time he went into the house, Kerac was missing. Darolen had gone to start taking bids for the farm after lunch. And now that it was nearing dinner, Kerac’s absence made Valis’ heart lurch in strange ways. Had he left? Surely he hadn’t abandoned his companion. Surely he wouldn’t try to reach the monastery alone.
His curiosity got the better of him. Valis actually fanned its flames now, knowing that it could very well rile the two Aesriphos, but doubting it would somehow. They had been kind, and if they wanted him docile to lure him out to that monastery as a prisoner, they wouldn’t stop that kindness now. He’d let them sell the farmstead, but with the kind of coin Darolen insinuated he would get for the land, livestock and house, he knew he could get by in another town, forge a life for himself on a smaller farm. Make his own associations for farm hands. Hire someone to work his finances.
But could he trust anyone to keep his finances without stealing from him?
Would the Aesriphos really let him keep his money?
If not, he’d find a way to snatch enough to buy supplies, steal two of his own horses, and safely get himself to another town. It couldn’t be that hard to find one. Could it? Was anywhere safe? Certainly he’d have to get out of Vau Taun. He’d probably have to leave Evakis altogether and reach a neighboring country. But, he only spoke Evaki. Could he make it in a country where he didn’t speak the language, let alone the local dialect? Could he learn fast enough to stay alive and find honest work where his employer wouldn’t abuse him?
He sighed and leaned against the nearest wall to get his head in
order. Kerac and Darolen had been kind. Couldn’t he swallow his fear enough to hope? To follow them until they proved their lies? If he did, they could possibly teach him how to survive outside his farmstead before he had to escape.
But that felt too much like how his father had used people. Going along with their ideas just to meet his own ends and strike them down with a well-timed spell or a quick sword slash. Force the body to disintegrate to leave no evidence behind, just to keep blood off his hands and unfortunate questions from being raised against him.
Valis shuddered and pushed off the wall. Kerac seemed honestly worried for him. Darolen, while gruff, had never truly abused him. He seemed to do his best to show restraint with his considerable strength when correcting Valis. Even if Darolen’s voice did make him shudder, he seemed like an honest man. Even if he didn’t trust them, he had to stay with them for an uncertain amount of time, and if his mind didn’t stop this incessant circling, he’d go mad before they even left Vau Taun.
Scrubbing his hands over his face, Valis fought to pull himself together. He needed all of his wits about him with these men. If they were lying, he had to be sure he was ready to bolt before they could hurt him. And if they weren’t lying, he couldn’t keep hurting them and himself. Kerac seemed honestly tender. Almost as tender as his own mother had been at times. Times when his father was at his worst. Times when he had caught her reading to Valis, or showing him any kind of affection.
Just thinking about her, the way she’d stroke fingers through his hair, or the way she’d sneak him a pastry from the oven while his father was in a meeting with one of the neighboring Mage Lords, made his guts twist and his heart clench.
He shuddered and forced his way up the stairs. Kerac could be anywhere in the sprawling manor, but he had a feeling that he remained in the room he shared with Darolen. He didn’t know how to explain it, but it was almost like, if he concentrated hard enough, he could feel a warm spot in that part of the house.
As he walked through the upper floors, he gazed at the paintings along the rich paper that lined the walls. Gold leaf picked out subtle flowers that caught the light and glowed on a rich, deep carmine background. The paintings seemed vibrant amid that darkness, showing differing scenes from battles caught in time to strange depictions of black and gold light battling for supremacy. His favorite had always been the one where horses of various coat grazed in a meadow by a gentle stream, the sun low on the horizon, casting their shadows in long, dark trails toward the water that glittered in the dying rays. It always gave him hope of a freedom he knew he would never have in this life.
And now he wondered if that freedom he had never believed in rested with the two men who now shared this evil house with him.
He reached the door to the guest suite Kerac shared with Darolen, screwed up his nerves, and knocked lightly on the door. If he’d thought more on it, he would have found something to bring. A tray of tea and a snack, a well-thought question, anything to just check on the man and leave without having an awkward conversation. …Provided the man actually answer the door.
If he didn’t answer the door, everything would be moot, and Valis would have to figure out whether he would call the man’s name, wait outside the door, or go looking for him through the rest of the house. Suddenly he wished he had thought all this through before even climbing the stairs. His palms began to sweat, and he anxiously rubbed them on the rough cloth of his pants. His heart beat haphazardly in his chest, making him feel slightly nauseous.
Was that a sound? A soft sigh? Did Kerac shift within the room? He could almost see the man staring out the window, his hand on the pane with his head bowed. The image seemed so real he almost wondered if it was a gift—or a curse—from Sovras. Something to tear at his heart and make him worry about the softer spoken of the two Aesriphos. Whatever the intention, it worked. He raised his hand and pressed it to the carved wood of the door, right over the stag’s face and spoke softly. “Kerac?”
That time he did hear the subtle shift of feet. A sharp inhale near where he knew the window to be. Was that a sniffle? Had Kerac been crying? He suddenly wanted to try the handle to the door. Would it be locked against him? Even against Darolen? That seemed unlikely, but he didn’t know these men. Didn’t know their habits yet. Not enough to judge this kind of reaction. But… had Valis hurt the man’s feelings?
If so, that would shatter everything Valis had kept close. His fear of trust. His inability to see them as anything but carefully crafted lies. He shivered and pressed his forehead to the cool wood and took a deep breath. Whether they were lying in their kindness or not, it was years of training that forced the words past the strange lump in his throat. “Kerac, I’m sorry.”
He stood with his brow pressed to the wood for what seemed like hours, but he counted the hush and shush of blood rushing in his ears to know that it was only moments before footsteps sounded. They drew closer to the door. Stopped just on the other side. A sniffle broke the silence, and Valis could easily imagine the tall man with raven hair, handsome face with high cheekbones, supple lips that more often than not held a fond, kind smile, an elegant brow, and sharp chin. He would press his hand to the smooth wood right over where Valis’ brow pressed. Stare at the door as if he could see Valis through it. His hand would tremble as he reached for and aborted several attempts to grasp and turn the handle.
Finally that handle did turn. Valis backed up enough to let the door swing inside without him falling forward. He had prepared himself, or thought he had, for the state he assumed Kerac would be in after hearing several quiet sniffles through the door. But nothing he did had prepared him for seeing red-rimmed eyes, a chapped nose, and the wary expression that leveled on him instead of the once glowing kindness. Kerac held himself as if he were going to war, and it broke Valis’ heart whether he wanted it to or not.
Valis shuddered and ducked his head, his face heating with shame. He’d done that. Those weary eyes with the wary stare were his fault. They stood there for long moments, neither speaking. Valis’ squirming stomach ratcheted up a notch, forcing him to look up. He couldn’t manage much more than a soft murmur, but he repeated his earlier words. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”
Kerac’s fingers twitched. Both hands flexed and curled. One around the door frame, the other by his side, playing with the hem of his soft-looking tunic of white with blue and gold embroidery about the v-shaped neckline, hem, and the cuffs that ended just past his elbows. He breathed heavily as if measuring his breaths to prevent more sniffles, or any wet sound that might further betray the fact he’d been crying. As if the wet, red glisten of his skin from wiping it with an increasingly dampening handkerchief weren’t the best he had attempted at drying his face and eyes. As if he hadn’t looked into a mirror to have seen just how red and swollen the tender skin around his eyes appeared. As if he hadn’t noticed that his nose looked red and sore.
Valis ached to touch him. To soothe. But still something inside him told him he couldn’t, shouldn’t, trust these men. But, as far as he knew, one couldn’t fake this show of hurt. He swallowed hard, and when Kerac finally looked as if he might reach for Valis, he stepped into Kerac’s personal sphere and let the man hold him.
He expected something controlled, but when Kerac wrapped Valis in his arms, those limbs trembled like tree limbs in a storm. The man’s breath hitched, and he tucked his cheek against the crown of Valis’ head. A soft sob escaped him, and those warm arms tightened. Valis managed to keep his composure until he felt hot, wet droplets soak into his hair and dampen his scalp. It forced him to move, to wrap his arms about Kerac’s ribs and squeeze. “I’m sorry.”
Kerac remained quiet for a short time, then shook his head, never letting his cheek leave the crown of Valis’ head. His voice sounded raspy as he said, “No.” He cleared his throat and tried again, sounding stronger while remaining just as quiet. “No. We shouldn’t have expected you to trust us so quickly. I’m sorry for pushing you. It wasn’t
fair on any of us, especially you.”
If he could have, Valis would have looked into the man’s eyes to try to judge Kerac’s words, but the trembling moved from Kerac’s arms to shake his entire body. Valis let out a soft whimper and pressed closer. “Darolen’s off taking bids.”
The Aesriphos stiffened, but didn’t let go. “You agreed to sell?”
“Yes. I—I’m still scared, but… but I can’t stay here. My aunt and uncle would kill me if they found me alone.” He cleared his throat and closed his eyes. “I have no way of defending myself against them. B—but that makes me feel like I’m using you.”
“If that is what it takes for you to allow us to keep you safe, Valis, then please. Use us.” He rocked Valis from side to side, a gentle sway, and nuzzled into Valis’ hair. For the first time, he felt somewhat safe, and that frightened him almost as much as awaiting his uncle’s evil touches. He shivered, but rather than pulling away, Valis burrowed more solidly against Kerac’s chest.
“You’ll stay, then? Until the farm sells?” Valis hated the way his voice cracked, the way his own eyes started to water in response to the new sniffles that escaped the Aesriphos who held him like a fragile treasure. Hated the way his knees went weak, and how he wanted, more than anything, for Kerac to never let him go. Hated the way he felt a desperate need to stay in his shelter. Hated feeling this weak, when all his life, that’s all he’d ever been.
But Kerac seemed to shine a light into his darkness, and while it made him feel more vulnerable than his father’s presence ever had, it also made him feel a sense of comfort and a modicum of safety.
“I couldn’t abandon you. Never. Not in good conscience.” He sighed when Valis tensed up and pressed a fierce kiss into Valis’ hair. “We’ll both try to go at your pace, Valis. But… we can’t leave you here, and your aunt and uncle aren’t the only reasons. I’m sure Darolen outlined some of them, yes?” When Valis reluctantly nodded, Kerac let out another breath through his mouth, most likely to hide the fact his nose still ran. “Will you let us be your friends?”
