by Devon Vesper
Valis looked around his room. He was allowed to take anything. They even encouraged him to pack most of his father’s things. “You will outgrow your own possessions soon,” Kerac had explained. “Your father’s clothes, boots, and other necessities may prove useful to you. He won’t need them as he’ll be issued a uniform in the prison, but you should put them to use for yourself. Just in case.”
That “just in case” caught Valis in the heart, because Kerac had added the bright-eyed, hopeful look that he’d been keen to use so often now that he knew how it affected Valis. Almost every time that look leveled on him, Valis’ insides turned into liquid, and he’d cave nearly every time.
Now, he had the task of packing everything he could, so long as it fit on his pack horse without being overburdening. They would be taking two pack horses, and a wagon to carry the chests of gold from the sale, along with his father’s personal gold cache and a few other chests full of documents and who-knew-what else. Those were all packed and already burdening the wagon. All his clothes were packed. There wasn’t much he had for himself other than clothes, but he’d found a few bits of his father’s things other than his clothes to tuck away and had rummaged through his mother’s belongings to get her favorite handkerchief and the ornate comb her mother gave to her for her wedding day. The spell books his father hoarded and poured over ended up in a crate to be delivered to the monastery for research upon Kerac’s request. Those went onto the wagon with the gold, documents, and other odds and ends. And when he’d looked at the thing, he wondered if it would overtax the horses trying to pull the heavy load halfway across the continent. Thankfully they lashed two horses to the wagon, otherwise he had little hope of it actually reaching the monastery.
In his room again, he sighed and leaned against the edge of his empty clothes chest. Everything he held dear fit neatly into four bags, a crate, and a lock box. Darolen packed up as much food as they could carry. With some of the money from the sale of the farmstead, he bought Valis the perfect gifts of summer and winter traveling clothes, a rain and a winter cloak and sturdy boots.
All that remained was to get rid of the vertigo that seemed to overcome him every time he tried to retreat from his bedroom. Between the reality of what day it was, and the reality of what would transpire all too soon, Valis stood rigid and unable to leave.
A rap on the door frame made Valis jump and spin around, which made the vertigo worse. Kerac caught him and pulled him against his broad chest. “Are you all right?”
Valis sighed and burrowed closer. The memory of his distrust bubbled acid in his gut, but he surrendered and wrapped his arms about Kerac’s armored waist. He murmured into the man’s plate-clad shoulder, “I’d be lying if I said yes.” He huffed an irritated breath and groaned. “I don’t know what’s wrong. So much is changing today, and I can barely keep up.”
As Valis learned was just Kerac’s way of comfort, the Aesriphos pressed a kiss to his temple and rocked him. “Sometimes the unknown is more terrifying than the evil that is known. Your fears were my fears when I was your age.”
“You were afraid?” Valis asked as he nuzzled into Kerac’s throat. That these men could know fear surprised him, but he wondered if that was his own naïveté and stupidity showing through.
He chuckled. “I was mortified. Unlike you, I was not given a choice.” He smoothed a hand up and down Valis’ back in a comforting rhythm. “My parents both died when I was very young, and my aunt raised me. When her husband died, she wasn’t able to afford my care and sent me to the monastery. I was but a year younger than you, so not of age—or even skill—to make it on my own.”
“I really don’t have much choice, either.” A bitter laugh escaped Valis’ throat. “You and Darolen pounded that into my head long enough. I couldn’t make it on my own more than a few months at most.”
Kerac squeezed him. “You have a choice, Valis. Say the word, and we will help set you up in a safe town in an apprenticeship doing what you think might interest you. This isn’t something we will force upon you.”
That thought made Valis’ stomach squirm. It was new. They had never let on that he could do anything other than sell the farm and follow them into the unknown toward the mythical-sounding monastery in the center of their continent. But, his heart lurched at the idea of them dumping him in a random town and leaving him behind. It felt both like a betrayal of their kindness, and the tug on an invisible tether that linked him to them. “I want to stay with you and Darolen.”
“Then it shall be so.”
“When do we leave?”
“Whenever you are ready.” Kerac pressed another warm kiss to his temple. “We won’t rush you.”
“If I don’t leave now, I fear I never will,” Valis murmured into his throat. “My feet don’t want to work, though.”
Kerac laughed as he pulled away and hooked an arm about Valis’ waist. “Then I shall draw you out with me.” With that, he guided Valis out of his room and through the house out to the front yard where the horses were tethered and the wagon lay burdened with all of Valis’ hopes and dreams. Darolen waited for them. The saddled and packed horses milled beside him, grazing on the overgrown grass.
Before he realized what was happening, he sat astride his black gelding and looked behind him to see his farmstead retreating from view. He turned back around in the saddle to look ahead and sighed. The eighteenth anniversary of his birth was now the birth of a new life. “How long before we reach the monastery?”
“Many months,” Kerac said. “Arlvor is near the center of Peralea, and this is close to the coast. You will see most of this half of the continent from one side to the other. We must travel through eight countries, through forests, plains and mountains. The city of Cadoras resides almost directly in the center of our country. It is fortified on all borders as a holy city, and the monastery is near central. It is surrounded by thick swaths of dense weeping whiptails that border a vast lake. To reach the monastery, you must travel by ferry across the water.”
“It sounds beautiful.” The way Kerac sounded so wistful as he described the journey made Valis want to see it all right then, and he was glad to be moving.
“It is, very much so.” Kerac sighed and turned a smile on Valis as he rode beside him. “I miss it greatly. They call the ferry ride The Cleansing, as the peaceful journey across the lake is supposed to bring spiritual joy as you travel home, and your sins drown in the water, as they are too heavy to follow you across.”
“And for those like your father who are imprisoned there,” Darolen murmured ahead of them, “it is called The Harrowing because Phaerith strips them of their magic as they cross, leaving them mostly defenseless.”
A cold feeling welled in Valis’ gut and he shifted in his saddle. “That… won’t happen to me, will it? I have Qos’ mark.”
Kerac reached across as he edged his mount closer and squeezed Valis’ bicep. “He knows your heart, Valis. The mark means nothing if you will it to mean nothing. As far as I know, the ferry ride only affects those in magical stasis such as your father is in. While in stasis, he will create no waste, need no food, feel no heat or cold, and be blessedly quiet for our journey. That stasis, I assume, is how Phaerith determines who is stripped, and who remains whole.”
Valis heaved a sigh of relief and rubbed the back of his neck. “I have so many questions,” he admitted. “I’m scared, so I’m being a demanding chatterbox.”
Both warriors laughed merrily. Kerac shook his head. “Better to travel with good conversation than to be bored for months on end.”
With a grin, Valis relaxed in his saddle and loosened his death grip on the reins. He wanted to remain wary. His uncle still hadn’t attacked again since that one night, and he could be lurking anywhere. But the relaxed air the two Aesriphos wrapped around themselves wrapped Valis, too, and he tried to shove those fears away. They would protect him. He had to trust that now as much as he could trust anything. “What if I prove not to be a mage?”
&nbs
p; “You can become a Priest.” Kerac matched his grin, unaware of the war that still raged in Valis’ heart and mind. “Or find something that holds your interest, pursue it, and make a living from it if you wish to leave. Or, you can remain with the monastery as you choose.”
“Or, you can become a mundane warrior for the Order,” Darolen added. “Not all warriors need magic. Only Aesriphos.”
“Wherever your heart lies, we will do our best to help you get there,” Kerac said. “That is what families do.”
Chapter Eleven
The first month of traveling went by in grueling torture. They barely made it out of Evakis and into Haiana. Valis constantly needed relief from his evil saddle, which made the going slow and painful. Riding all day left Valis’ legs numb, his backside sore, and his back aching. He was a skilled rider, but he still ended up with saddle sores, aching testicles, and cramps in his legs every evening. His bedroll felt like it was made of rocks. The rain was cold, the sun too hot, and the food bland once they began hunting and foraging when supplies ran out. The only thing that made it bearable was the conversation.
At least now Valis had gotten used to the routine and rested easily. He was no longer so tired when he laid down that he tossed and turned all night to eventually nod off in the wee morning hours. Nor did he do as other nights and instantly pass out the moment he was horizontal. He lay there in his tent listening to the sounds of the night, full from supper and only suffering a fraction of the weariness that had plagued him most of the journey.
Just as he closed his eyes, Valis started awake at the sound of a moan. It came again a few moments later. As he sat up, Valis turned his head toward the sounds which came from the other tent. Kerac’s voice lilted in his native tongue between pleased sounds. The two Aesriphos had begun teaching him their language, but he couldn’t decipher those heated words.
Something compelled him to get up. As quiet as he could, Valis pushed his cloak and the coverlet of his bedroll aside, got up and stole out of his tent. He stopped cold as someone muffled a strangled murmur. Fidgeting, Valis fought with the urge to dash back into his tent, and the opposite urge to go make sure Kerac was all right. Out of the two, he had become more attached to Kerac after that morning, watching him dissolve into tears and snot in Darolen’s arms.
Another pleased moan told Valis that Kerac was enjoying himself, but that just made Valis curious. He crept to the flaps of the tent Kerac shared with Darolen and peeked between them as quietly as he could.
Pressing his lips together, Valis held his breath to keep in the gasp at what he saw. Kerac rested on his back, legs wrapped about Darolen’s waist as they moved as one atop their combined bedrolls. Both were nude, laying haphazardly amid their combined bedrolls, a jar of some clear liquid next to Kerac’s head, and an oily sheen coating Kerac’s hip nearest him, glinting in the low light from the lamp that hung from the center support. The warrior’s long black hair pooled around his head unbound. His face contorted in a mask of pure bliss as Darolen suckled at his throat and jaw.
Valis’ lungs burned for air. Desperate not to be found out, he forced himself to take slow, quiet breaths as he watched in wonder. Kerac slowly turned his head, his mouth parted. A breath later, Darolen found his mouth with his own and claimed it. Their jaws worked, and when their lips parted in their languid movements, Valis saw the slow tangle of tongues as they kissed.
Kerac’s hands roved Darolen’s back, fingers digging into flesh. His hips shifted to tilt up further toward Darolen’s groin. He whimpered a word into Darolen’s mouth and the rhythm changed to short, choppy, fast thrusts that had Kerac mewling. The sound of his pleading voice made Valis’ pants grow uncomfortably tight around his growing erection. He bit his lips together harder as he rubbed his palm against his aching need.
Head thrashing from side to side in his ecstasy, Kerac writhed beneath Darolen, his voice husky and begging in wordless cries that he tried to keep quiet. Valis couldn’t force himself to look away. Mesmerized, he inhaled deeply through his nose and caught the scent of their musk. It drove his arousal into a burning ache that nearly had him doubled over.
Darolen’s movements became jerky, and he grunted a word. Shifting onto his left elbow, he gave Valis the perfect view as his hand stole between their sweat-slicked bodies. His thick fingers circled around Kerac’s shaft and stroked him fast from root to tip. He covered Kerac’s mouth in a searing kiss to muffle his cries as milky fluid shot between them from Kerac’s penis. Soon after, Darolen shuddered with a grunt and the kiss turned tender again as they panted from their exertion.
Valis stared a moment longer. Then, he stumbled away and scurried back to his own tent. His hands trembled as he tied the flaps shut. He bit down on his hand to keep back the whimper as he shoved his pants down to free himself and flopped onto his bedroll. Breathless, Valis reached down and his inexperienced hand jerked at his erection until he found the right pressure, motion and rhythm to ease the ache. The sensation became powerful. It washed over him until he wallowed around and ended up on his side, curled into a ball as he stroked himself.
The image of Kerac and Darolen burned bright in his mind. He moved to the image of Darolen stroking Kerac’s length and tried to match the rhythm as he sought release. His climax came so suddenly that he couldn’t bite down on the strangled shout that escaped him as the world exploded into a white haze that threatened to drown him.
Darolen reached his tent first. Both wore pants and worried expressions until they saw Valis’ position and state of half-dress. Kerac turned a knowing smirk on Valis as he patted Darolen’s shoulder and shooed him out of the tent with a gentle word.
Once they were alone, Kerac sat next to the bedroll. Valis’ cheeks burned with embarrassment and shame. The Aesriphos stroked his flushed cheek. His cool fingers felt blissful against his overheated skin, and he instinctively turned his face into the touch. “Do you feel better?”
Valis desperately wanted to hide his face, but he only closed his eyes and nodded.
“Breathe, Valis,” Kerac crooned. “All is well. There is no shame in what you did.” When Valis shuddered, Kerac sighed and rubbed warmth into his back. “I noticed you watching us.”
His cheeks burned hotter and Valis ducked his head. The Aesriphos chuckled and smoothed his fingers over Valis’ brow. “There is no shame in that, either. Have you ever done this before?” he asked, pointing to the smear of ejaculate next to him.
Shaking his head, Valis whimpered and fought to control his breathing.
“I see.” How Kerac put so much understanding and paternity in those two words was a miracle. Valis watched, unblinking, as the man traced a circle around the thick fluid, careful not to actually touch it. “You know this is what impregnates a woman to create children, yes?”
He stared at the smear in awe and shook his head. Kerac sighed and wiped his finger clean of the dirt on his pants. “Your parents have much to atone for.” With a shake of his head, Kerac went back to rubbing warm circles on Valis’ naked back. “Well, now you know. What you saw is how children are created if the act is between a man and a woman.”
His tone remained tender and patient as he explained. “Aesriphos are not allowed to create children. It is why female Aesriphos are not paired with males. We pair in same-sex bonds called Ezhav which has no direct translation to your tongue. It is like a marriage, perhaps holier. The Ezhav can only be broken by death of one or both Aesriphos.”
Kerac smoothed his fingers through Valis’ hair. Each pass made the knots of Valis’ tense muscles loosen until he lay boneless beside him. “Do you have to?”
“Enter an Ezhav?” When Valis nodded, Kerac chuckled softly. “No. Some Priests remain chaste. Some in the monastery wish families with children and leave to make it so, or remain to raise them in service. Some of us choose to have families… only to find someone we mesh with, and the Ezhav chooses us.”
“Was that how it was with you?” The gentle touches had Valis’ skin on fire, but he
tried to tamp it down.
“Yes. I was drawn to Darolen’s quiet strength. I wanted, more than anything, to become Aesriphos. But I feared the bond,” Kerac explained. “Aesriphos must travel in pairs for a number of reasons. The bonding itself is spiritual though the sex strengthens our bond as both Brothers of the Order and Ezhav mates. As a pair, we work together seamlessly. One keys into Phaerith’s power while the other directs the magic for use. This keeps our magical focus thin so that we can keep our eyes and focus on the battlefield for physical combat. We are able to protect each other. Being so very close, it makes us desperate, in a way, to keep the other safe at all costs. We are each other’s conscience and best friends.”
He grinned as his eyes took on a faraway glint. “Darolen fascinated me when I first met him. I was just about to head for the nearest High Priest to confess my need to remain solitary when I saw him training in the courtyard. Most other warriors make noise when fighting, whether shouts and exclamations, or jeers while having fun in training. Darolen made not a sound. His sword sang as it sliced the air. He caught me staring and, without a word, tossed me a practice blade and beckoned me over.”
“Did you know then?” Valis asked. “That the Ezhav chose you?”
Kerac chuckled and shook his head. “No. Darolen knew, but I was still too afraid of the bond to recognize it. It took months of becoming friends, and even then I was scared.”
“How did you know?”
His grin dimpled his cheeks as he said, “Darolen grew tired of my fear. Exasperated by it, he pressed me against a wall and kissed me. It was so gentle, even the way he held me captive by the wall, that it sundered all of my defenses. That fear dissolved completely soon after when I grew desperate for those kisses in the following weeks.”
The heat drained from his cheeks some time ago, and now Valis heard the tenderness in Kerac’s voice like a song. He matched his grin. “I hope to find something like that.”
