by Devon Vesper
Friends. Valis didn’t even know what those were. Not really. The closest thing he’d ever had to one had been Sovras, and he’d not had a dream of him in months. Though, if Sovras was really a god like Valis assumed, he could be busy. Or, Valis’ brain was just making it all up to comfort him. It still saddened him, but now that he had two people who were doing their level best to enshroud him in their care, he didn’t know whether he should—or could—let them any closer than they had already forced their way into his life.
But, Kerac waited for his answer. He deserved one, even if only because Valis could almost feel his heart breaking with every beat of silence between them. It was a strange and heady feeling to evoke such emotion that wouldn’t lead—or so he hoped—to a sound beating within moments. Though, a large part of him wondered if this was true, or a well planned and executed, highly believable act.
That look of betrayal he’d seen earlier, just before Valis had stormed out of the kitchen, swam into Valis’ mind. He wouldn’t have looked betrayed if he was lying. Would he? Would he be trying so hard if Valis was bound for a prison sentence once they reached the monastery?
No matter the answers to those questions, they were currently the only things standing between Valis and his family. No matter what, he couldn’t land in their hands. Not if he wanted to survive. Just the thought of his uncle finding him sent sick shivers wracking through his body. It made Kerac gentle his hold. Made Valis unconsciously burrow that much closer.
“You’ve never been held like this, have you?” Kerac asked in tones so soft that Valis’ heart wept. “Never known gentle hands…”
The way Valis’ heart lodged in his throat, he didn’t dare trust his voice, so shook his head in answer. Kerac smoothed warm, gentle hands down Valis’ spine and sighed, this time through his still-wet nose. “Will you let us try to be your friends?”
Valis didn’t have the heart to keep stalling. Kerac didn’t deserve it. Not after hours of crying. Not after holing himself up in his room. Not after Valis had treated them like the monsters he still feared they were. He held his breath and just nodded. It was a small concession. He would let them try. He would keep his mind keen, looking for cracks in the armor of their apparent kindness.
“We should go down and start preparations for supper,” Kerac murmured. “Darolen will most likely return before nightfall, and he will be hungry.”
Duty. If nothing else, Valis would continue to do his duty. If these men proved to be lying, it would keep Valis from going insane trying to chase the squirrel thoughts in his mind. If they weren’t, they deserved his cooperation and assistance. He would adhere to duty, if for nothing else, than it gave him something to do so he wouldn’t say anything else as stupid as he had at lunch.
Chapter Eight
For the most part, Valis started to feel a little more comfortable. Working with Kerac in the kitchen helped alleviate a little more of his unease with the man. But as they worked, and Kerac started to warm up to Valis, things started to get into unfamiliar territory.
As Valis removed the flaky, buttery rolls from the wood-burning oven, Kerac brushed light touches across the small of his back on his way to the pantry for more spices. While Valis buttered the tops of the rolls, Kerac remained close, casting him frequent smiles that usually made Valis warm to his toes. They worked together, roasting a freshly plucked chicken seasoned with herbs, spices, and rubbed down with imported oil in the freshly stoked oven, grilling vegetables on the stove, preparing different things that Valis had never heard of, but that smelled so good his stomach wouldn’t stop its incessant rumbles and loud gurgles. If he didn’t know better, they were preparing a feast on a much smaller scale, and Valis wondered what the occasion might be. Or did the man just enjoy cooking?
Either way, the little touches, the crowding, the constant regard, the still, somewhat tense quiet as if the man expected Valis to start a conversation—it all started to wear on Valis’ nerves. He didn’t know what to expect, how to behave, how to react. Everything was so new and foreign that as the moments ticked by on the kitchen’s brass and silver wind-up clock set on an ornate shelf above the stove, Valis wanted to scream his frustration. What did Kerac expect from him? What did friends do? Why wasn’t he talking? Why wouldn’t he stop casting glances over as if he expected something?
The only words spoken were small corrections or instructions on what to do or how to prepare the meal Kerac had planned, and Valis was fit to burst. What was worse, was Darolen hadn’t returned yet, and the sun had started to set. He knew that Kerac had grown worried as the sky started to darken, showing rich, vivid purples that reflected off the puffy clouds in pastel pink, lilac, and subtle shades of blue and gray. It had kept Valis’ attention as he washed the vegetables, looking much like one of the paintings he had loved, a gift that his father had spited him with. He’d loved it, so his father had given it to another lord in the vicinity. That painting had made Valis’ soul weep, and the sky, the real sky put his memory of that painting to shame.
Now, the sky was near indigo, the last rays throwing long, deep shadows along the ground, shadowing the view of where Darolen should exit the forest. Even Valis had his worries that Darolen might be in trouble. Had someone attacked him on the way back? Had he lost his way in the many trails that led either to, or very far away from the farmstead? Had his horse thrown a shoe or otherwise found itself lame?
He sighed and went to the sink. He’d already carried in enough water, heated it, and now started in on washing some of the dishes to keep the mess down now that the water had cooled enough to submerge his hands. The hot water felt somewhat good, cleansing and purifying. But he couldn’t let himself succumb to that invitation. Every time he looked down, his stomach cramped and his eyes flew back to the window above the sink.
The dishes finished for the moment, Valis went about drying them, watching the light continue to fade until a black cloak shrouded everything beyond the sparse illumination from inside that softly gilded the grass within a few feet of the house. With the new moon upon them, the gentle glow from the house’s windows was the only light outside, and Valis let out a soft breath. “I’ll go look for him.”
“You will do no such thing.” Valis shrank back from Kerac’s hard tone, and the Aesriphos ducked his head, sighed, and went on far more gently. “Darolen is skilled, Valis. If you go beyond the shield encompassing this farm, you are leaving yourself open to your aunt and uncle, and I can’t risk you leaving with that threat looming so close. Not with his escape. Not with the way he escaped. Please.”
That drumbeat started up in Valis’ chest again. It echoed, “Trapped, trapped, trapped” with every thump against his ribs. He stared at Kerac’s back as the man chopped roasted vegetables and readied them to turn them into some sort of flavorful mash. He had explained that after they were mashed, he would add some of the thick, red, savory sauce he made, and a bit of the shredded chicken, and create stuffed buns for their luncheon tomorrow. Tonight, they would have the venison they’d butchered the evening before, keeping into a rhythm of killing an animal one day, and eating it the next, then preserving the leftovers for smaller meals and kitchen-sink recipes throughout the week. The rhythm of cooking and chopping and cleaning had kept him sane. Now, it almost felt like a cell or punishment.
He darted another anxious glance out the window and scowled. “Then I’ll at least go out to light and hang some lanterns along the drive posts. It’s black as pitch outside, and he’ll need to be able to see to get his horse settled before coming inside.”
With anxiety pumping through his blood like acid, he watched Kerac’s back. It had jerked into a tense line at his proclamation, but as the seconds tick, tick, ticked past, it started to relax and Kerac let out a breath and cast Valis a sidelong look filled with pain and his own worry. “That will be good. Thank you. Light one in the stables as well?”
Valis gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “I will.” And if I hear anything, I’ll do what I mu
st. He can’t keep me here. I won’t be a prisoner in my own home, even if it won’t be my home for much longer.
Just to ease Kerac’s own anxiety, Valis puttered around the kitchen a moment longer before he headed to the utility closet in the unused servants’ part of the house and fetched several oil lanterns. Each was weighted on one side to provide a balance during riding so the rider could rest it on his leg or a hip without fear of being burned. But, they were also the closest at hand. His father rarely, if ever, received social calls after sunset, so it was a stunningly rare occasion that they ever needed to have lights along the drive. Those lanterns rested at the very back of the closet along the back shelves. As it was, filling the ones he had with oil seemed to take up too much precious time. And by the time he finished getting them all filled, the closet rearranged, and back out into the main part of the house, the earlier anxiety that pumped through his blood seemed to suffuse his entire body with dread that made him want to saddle his horse and crash through the trails.
He had promised Kerac though. Grabbing up a striker, he made his way outside and lit the first lantern, keeping the rest strung on his forearms. It taxed his strength, bringing an almost immediate sheen of sweat to his skin that stuck his shirt to his back and made it hard to work the striker with his damp hands, but he soon had the first lantern bright and hung it from the hook right beside the front door. The next he placed on the fence post that delineated the manicured lawn from the drive. He dutifully placed the third on a steel hook just inside the stables, smiling as the horses within whickered greetings to him as if they thought he might have treats for them, which he tried to sneak out at least once a day for the beasts.
With those, he settled the other lanterns on two hay bales and went to saddle his favorite black gelding. He wasn’t about to go about lighting the drive on his own legs, not while carrying who-knows-how-much weight in brass lanterns with thick, quality glass, and full oil reservoirs. He was a strong man, but he wasn’t stupid. His father punished stupidity enough that he knew how to work smart.
To carry the lanterns, he tied four to the saddle and looped the rest onto his forearms. Thankfully most of his direction went through subtle shifts of his legs, otherwise the entire ride for the first few lantern placements would be more awkward than Kerac’s hugs.
He’d just lit and hung from the fourth light post along the drive when he saw it. Golden flashes amid the trees looked like strange lightning. He heard nothing, not a shout, no birds, no insects. The night went silent as death with those flashes, and Valis urged his gelding to stop while he waited to see if more would follow.
“It’s beyond the shield,” he whispered to his horse. “Coming from the path from town…”
If it was something bad, Valis couldn’t help it now. He shifted his weight and urged his horse on toward the next light post, lit another lantern, hung it from the beam that hung over his head—another reason he’d had to mount up. With everything he did, he kept his focus on the path’s opening, on where he’d seen those flashes.
He hung two more lanterns before he saw them again. Heart in his throat, he sent his horse into a fast gallop. In the light of the lanterns, he jumped the gelding over the fence and guided him toward the kitchen window. With a shove, he raised it and kept his voice low, but urgent, thanking every God imaginable they hadn’t locked the windows after closing them for the evening. “Gold light is flashing along the path. I think Darolen’s in trouble.”
All the color blanched out of Kerac’s face. His breath came too fast, too hard. “You’re certain?”
“Saw it twice. I’m going to go finish hanging lanterns.”
“You will get in this house.” Kerac’s eyes went wild, showing too much white. They hardened into something that looked like a cross between murder and determination. “I must go. …Light the lanterns, then lock yourself in the house. Do not open the door unless you hear my voice. Do you understand me?”
Valis swallowed hard. “Yes, sir.”
Kerac said not another word, but darted for the front door. Valis raced back toward the next light post, vaulting over the fence again. Kerac had to go don his armor. Get his sword. Valis had made a promise. He’d never broken one before, never wanted to in the future. But…
No. His hands shook as he stopped under the next post, lit the lantern and hung it from the hook. Another series of gold lightning strikes lit up the trees. It seemed closer to the clearing now. His stomach squirmed, but he went on to the next, and the next, hanging lanterns while keeping his eyes on the tree line.
Kerac finally emerged from the house when he was on the next-to-last lantern. By then, Valis’ hands felt drenched and clammy. Lighting the lamp seemed almost impossible, his fingers fumbling over and over again with the striker. He hung the next lantern, and Kerac practically flew past him on his silver stallion. He was halfway between Valis and the tree line when more golden light started to flare, so close that it almost seemed like someone stoked a hot fire just beyond the first few rows of trees. It glinted off Kerac’s silver armor, haloing him in gold and darkness, making him look like a gilded paper cutout for the few brief flashes.
If he couldn’t do anything else, he would get the last lantern lit and hung. Something so that the two could see their retreat. The last hung just inches inside the shield. But, as those flashes continued, as they grew more intense and brighter than the sun, the golden shimmer of the shield started to fade. It flickered and flashed.
Valis’ heart stuttered. It stopped, then started thundering in his ears as it winked out. Who had erected it? Darolen or Kerac? Had one of them fallen?
He’d promised that as soon as the last lantern was lit, he would go hide in the house. But, was hiding his best option? Or was he just as exposed there as he was here? Either way, he couldn’t do anything. Sick fear coated his tongue and brought up the tidbits he’d tasted as he and Kerac cooked the evening away. It bubbled up in his throat and burned the back of his tongue, made his entire mouth taste foul.
Someone shouted, a bestial roar that echoed through the trees, shattering the eerie quiet. The power behind it kicked Valis in the chest. Made his breath catch. He didn’t recognize whose throat it may have come from. All he knew was that it was male, and it sounded like they were hurt. His gelding shifted and sidestepped uneasily. Valis stroked his neck to keep him calm, or was it to calm himself?
If the two Aesriphos have fallen…
Valis gulped for air and focused. It took precious moments, his hands trembling like he was in the middle of a fit, his fingers slick with greasy sweat, his coordination off with his fear, but he got the wick to catch, and as soon as the lantern grew bright, he lowered the glass and hung it on its hook. But now he wondered if he shouldn’t douse them all and make it look like the house was empty.
Or should he go into the woods?
Another bright flare of gold flashed, farther into the woods, and Valis’ stomach pitted. He whirled his gelding around, careful not to yank on the bit in his haste, and urged him to use his full stride as he made his way back to the house. He’d promised. Valis may be many things, may not trust these men, but whoever attacked Darolen surely wouldn’t have Valis’ own wellbeing in mind. Those two Aesriphos were his only hope of survival, and if they fell… he’d have to find a way to evade his aunt and uncle.
Could he hide? But Kerac had demanded he go into the house and lock the doors.
But that left the windows, most of which had no locks. His father hadn’t needed them. The locks on the doors were for show and went mostly unused.
He slowed his advance and swung down from the saddle next to the front door, tethered his gelding next to the shrubs that flanked the wrap-around porch’s short flight of stairs, and bolted into the house, dousing candles and lamps as he tore through the interior. Once every door to the outside was secure, Valis looked around. Where could he hide within the house in case the Aesriphos fell, and his uncle came to take him away?
The servants’ qu
arter hadn’t been used since he grew large and strong enough to start taking over their cleaning duties, or at least, as far as he remembered. That part of the house had hidden stairs, passages to every room so they could remain largely unseen by guests that might happen by. They had a veritable warren of rooms on the lowest level, and down into the basement, apart from the cellar. Now Valis had the brief thought that his father might have dismissed them from the household simply so they wouldn’t get in his way. He remembered brief flashes of women trying to protect him from his father. Every time, he’d never see that servant again. Had his father killed them?
He didn’t have time for such thoughts. Still, they flitted by his mind as he raced through the warren, flashes of memory that would scald his mind as he quietly closed doors behind himself, holing himself deeper into the inner chambers, taking the narrow servants’ walk through the attic maze to peek out between the shutter slats and fine netting of the small attic window to watch for anyone coming. He didn’t dare do more than adjust the slats so he could see out. Opening the shutters would let anyone know that he was in the attic because they were never open.
Valis held his breath as he stared into the blackness, abbreviated only by intervals of flickering golden pools from the fresh lanterns. He hadn’t heard anyone knock on the door. No one had wrung the bell crank beside it. He didn’t see Kerac or Darolen’s horses anywhere, but if they had returned, they could be putting them in the stables while Valis fought to get his frantic breathing under control.
