by Devon Vesper
“Valis, stop!”
Again Roba’s voice overlaid it. Again Valis bolted, this time for the opposite side of the camp. He ran between the tents. He yelped as he bounced off the other side of the shield and landed on his ass. Kerac’s cries came from Roba’s side. Why couldn’t he pass through the shield? Why was it solid now when it had only kept out those who were to do them harm? Why—
“Get him, Darolen!” Kerac shouted. “Stop him from hurting himself!”
—were they treating him like a prisoner? Valis’ blood froze and everything went still for just the briefest of seconds. He was trapped. The men he’d allowed himself to trust were finally showing their lies. The kindness really had been just to keep him docile and agreeable. How could he have been this foolish? How didn’t he see?
Time flooded back in with a rush that left Valis breathless. Darolen’s footsteps thundered toward him. Terror gripped Valis’ gut as he rolled onto his hands and knees. Just as he got his feet under him, Darolen caught the side of his head with the flat of his hand and knocked him down again. Pain bloomed through his head and shredded his heart. He’d let himself love these monsters. Why had he been so weak?
“Enough,” he said, his voice quieter, more dangerous. “Valis, that is enough.”
His muscles no longer obeyed him. He couldn’t run. The shield kept him in, contained, corralled like an animal, useless and meaningless and tame as a work horse. There was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. He toppled over as his arms and legs gave out and curled into a tight ball. His entire body shook until he choked on a sob and covered his head with his arms. Trapped. His whole world threatened to shatter into shards of memories of joy and love that cut deeper, bruised darker than anything his father had ever done to him.
“You hit him,” Kerac growled as he knelt by Valis’ side. “Darolen, how could you? Has he not seen enough abuse? Has he not suffered enough?”
“There is a difference between abuse and correction,” Darolen rumbled. “He needs to learn this. So do you, it seems.”
“Don’t you use that tone with me,” Kerac snarled. “He is scared. Hitting him was uncalled for.”
Kerac laid a hand on Valis’ side. Even the gentle touch hurt. It scalded Valis’ skin, and he shrank away. In the next instant, Valis heard the crack of skin against skin. He jerked, but never felt the blow. Eyes wide, he looked up to find Kerac faced off against Darolen as they argued. Darolen’s cheek steadily grew redder and swelled with each passing moment, heightened with the high color from his anger. He held Kerac’s wrist to the side, his grip white-knuckled and shaky. The red mark on his face swiftly took on the distinct shape of four fingers, right across his cheekbone.
“Hitting Valis is uncalled for, yet you hit me?” Darolen growled.
“You deserved it!” Kerac bellowed. “You scarred that child so thoroughly that he shrank back from me! Can you blame him for his fury against Roba’s treatment? Can you blame him for a momentary lapse of the mind?”
Darolen dropped Kerac’s hand and glared at his mate. “Need I remind you he is Roba’s son? He is a flight risk, and until we get to the monastery, no matter how we feel about him, he is a prisoner.” He poked his forefinger in the center of Kerac’s chest and leaned closer. “I love that boy just as much as you do, but I might also remind you that we need to keep Roba whole and alive for questioning until he reaches the prison.”
Valis’ stomach knotted. Prison? Will they send me to prison, too? Trapped. Prisoner. Flight risk… He looked about the camp again, and suddenly the shield that once comforted Valis now shined like a gilded prison. I’m a prisoner… I’m already in prison. Sovras, no…
His hands started to sweat as he stared at his two captors. As their fight continued, Valis shrank further toward the edge of the shield.
“That is no excuse for terrifying and abusing a child!” Kerac wailed. Tears streamed down his flushed face. His hands shook as they clenched at his sides. “How are we to stop him from following his sire’s path if this is how he is treated? How, Darolen? How is he supposed to know love when all he receives from those he trusts is all he knew from his sire?”
“I—”
Valis shot to his feet and charged. Darolen swung around to meet him, but Valis dodged his grip and barreled into Kerac’s chest. His arms wrapped about him and he clung to Kerac with all the strength he could muster. Nothing made sense anymore. Even their words seemed garbled, even though he seemed to understand them. All he knew was that Kerac—gentle, loving, kind, tender Kerac—was crying, and the sight of his tears ripped part of Valis’ soul to ragged tatters.
“Stop!” he cried. “Stop fighting over me!”
Kerac gasped and pulled Valis tighter against his chest. Something passed between the two warriors, and Darolen sighed. He reached over and squeezed Valis’ shoulder more gently than he had before.
“We will stop fighting if you talk to us,” he rumbled. “Why did you run?”
With a shudder, Valis shook his head and tucked his face into the curve of Kerac’s throat. Those hot tears Kerac cried now dripped into Valis’ hair and slicked the side of his face. He hugged Valis tighter and shifted him until he settled, then kissed his temple.
“Answer him, Valis,” Kerac murmured. “Everything is a blur. What exactly frightened you so that you ran like a rabbit from a wolf?”
The sudden instinct to protect Kerac fled. The terror of being a prisoner returned. He broke away from Kerac and stalked off. Darolen caught his arm. While it didn’t hurt, it made his anger and anxiety flare. Valis grunted with the force he used to jerk his arm away, but Darolen’s grip never faltered.
“Where are you going?” he demanded.
Valis shivered as all he heard was Roba’s voice issuing from Darolen’s throat. He tried and failed to jerk away again. “I’m a prisoner,” he snapped. “I’m going to my cell. Fight all you please.”
Something darkened Darolen’s features. Valis almost thought it to be worry or sorrow, but that didn’t fit with how he acted.
“Let me go, Darolen,” Valis growled. He tried to keep his fear inside, tried to shield it from his eyes as he narrowed them on his captors. “I can’t run, anyway.”
“Release him,” Kerac said, his voice hard and gravelly. “You have done enough harm for tonight.”
“I will not let this go, Valis,” Darolen murmured. “I will get to the bottom of this.”
Valis snorted. This time when he jerked his arm, Darolen released his grip. He glared at both Aesriphos as he backed up. “Going to interrogate me like my father, Darolen?”
Every muscle in Darolen’s face seemed to harden as he advanced. He gripped Valis by the shirt front and jerked him close until they stood nose to nose. “Kerac and I have agonized over you. We have protected you, taught you, cared for you. Until today, you have known nothing but kindness from either of us.” His eyes narrowed, and he jerked on Valis’ shirt when Valis lowered his gaze. “We have given our all to you in as many ways as we could think of and create. Yet, in return, all you have shown this last week has been nothing but disdain, unwarranted anger, and snide comments. That is uncalled for.”
That hard stare made Valis wither. His stomach pitted so hard that he started to pant and tremble. He rubbed his sweaty hands on his pants and looked everywhere but Darolen’s steely face. Darolen shook the grip on his shirt again until Valis looked up.
“You are a prisoner, Valis, not because we think you are a danger, not because we think you are a flight risk,” he stressed, “but because you are the son of our enemy. It is protocol.”
“You lied to me.” A shudder skated over Valis’ body and he shoved Darolen away so hard that the tight grip on his shirt tore the fabric. Everything went numb, from his hands to his heart. “You made me sell my farmstead. You made me think I could have a life in the monastery. You made me believe that I could be or do anything!” He swatted Darolen’s hand away as the man reached for him again. “It was all a lie. I’m a prisoner. You
wouldn’t have let me stay at all if I’d refused to sell my farmstead, would you?”
Kerac came up behind him and sighed. “Not because of protocol, Valis. We worried. How would you have run a farm that size on your own? How would you have survived? You are a child, love. I couldn’t have left you there. Not in good conscience.”
“We didn’t lie, Valis,” Darolen said. “We kept things from you so you wouldn’t be frightened, yes. We have never lied to you.”
“Right,” Valis spat. “I’m supposed to believe that?”
“Darolen, why don’t you go make dinner,” Kerac murmured. “I wish to speak to Valis alone.”
With a sigh, Darolen stared hard at Valis for a long, silent moment, then nodded. “I will call when it’s ready.”
As he wandered back toward the fire, Kerac ran his hands up and down Valis’ biceps, then down to his hands. “Valis… Look at me?”
The tone he used made Valis relax, even if only slightly. He turned his head and frowned. “I’m going to my tent.”
“May I come, too?”
Valis frowned harder, but sighed. “I don’t care.” He turned and headed for his tent. When he made it to his bedroll and sat, Kerac peeked between the flaps and fidgeted with them a moment. After a deep breath, he pushed one aside and ducked in.
“Valis, I’m sorry.” He sat cross-legged before him and rested his hands on Valis’ knees. “We should have explained everything at the start. It wasn’t fair for you to have learned like this.”
When Valis only frowned and clenched his jaw, Kerac took a deep breath and sighed it out through his nose. “If you were a true prisoner, do you think we would have taught you how to fight? Do you think we would have given you your own sword to protect yourself with? If you were a prisoner, why would we choose to feed and care for you, rather than simply putting you in stasis as we had your sire?”
He reached for Valis’ hands and squeezed. “We care about you, Valis. When I promised I would ask to be your mentor that was not a lie. When I told you of all the choices before you, they were and still are truth.”
Unable to look up, Valis focused on his hands and drew them away from Kerac’s grasp. “But, I’m a prisoner…”
Kerac made a distressed noise in the back of his throat. “I want to throttle him for ever saying such a thing. You are not a prisoner. It isn’t a lie so much as the wrong term. We have you in our custody for your protection. You are not a criminal we have detained, nor are you destined for the same fate as your sire.”
The tight spring that wound in Valis’ gut began to loosen, and he sagged where he sat. He slowly lifted his eyes until he met Kerac’s and frowned. “His voice sounded the same as father’s,” he whispered. “Exactly the same.”
Kerac frowned. His eyes wavered as he studied Valis’, tears from the previous fight with Darolen still clinging to his lashes like diamonds to give the gold of his irises a richer cast, like liquid metal in a beautiful mask. “How so?”
It took a moment for Valis to find his voice again. He shuddered and snugged his cloak about himself as he cleared his throat. “Father’s voice, every time before he hit mother or I, would always sound the same—terse, loud and gravelly. It always held a snarl, like one of the hounds about to maul a rabbit. It was like hearing his voice come out of Darolen’s mouth.”
Understanding dawned on Kerac’s face and he moved to sit next to Valis, rather than in front of him. He wrapped his arm about Valis’ shoulder and kissed his temple. “We all need a few moments to calm down, love. You and Darolen, especially.”
With a heavy sigh, Valis nodded and leaned his head against Kerac’s shoulder. All the fight left him so fast that his muscles trembled and twitched. With a squeeze of his shoulder, Kerac kissed his temple again. The next moment, Valis squeaked as the Aesriphos scooped him up and transferred him to his lap. Once the surprise wore off, Kerac’s warmth and gentle touches forced Valis to tuck up against his chest and find his favorite spot in the curve of Kerac’s throat.
They remained like that, Kerac rocking them side to side, until Darolen came to the tent flaps to announce dinner. He poked his head in and turned a gentle smile on them. “Come eat.”
“We will be there in a moment,” Kerac said.
Darolen nodded and left them. When the flaps settled, he pulled Valis from his chest and kissed his forehead. “No more anger. If either of us lose our temper, remind us to be civil. We need to talk before we go further.”
“I’m not hungry,” Valis groaned.
“We must speak on that, too.”
Valis shrank down and fidgeted with the edges of his cloak. “I just want to sleep.”
“Come on, Valis,” Darolen said from behind the flaps. “Dinner, combat training, and then sleep.”
“Perhaps a night off,” Kerac said. “We have all had a long day.”
“No.” Darolen twitched the flap aside and stared in. “Combat training will help us all relax. Up you both get.”
After a moment when neither of them moved, Darolen sighed and stepped in. He stalked the cramped tent and knelt in front of them. Valis glanced up, and the look in Darolen’s eyes made him feel small. “What?”
“I’m sorry, Valis,” Darolen murmured. He stroked a hand over Valis’ tousled hair. “I didn’t mean to upset you more than you were over your sire.” He slouched where he knelt and pressed his lips into a thin line as he studied Valis’ face. “I panicked.” He huffed a sad, self-deprecating laugh. “I panicked more because you panicked. Things just escalated from there, and I apologize.”
Valis shuddered. “I can’t imagine you panicking.”
The craggy warrior chuckled and leaned in to press a warm kiss to Valis’ brow. “Seeing those I love suddenly lose themselves to hysteria has power over me when little else may seem to.” He smiled as he rocked back on his heels and stood. “Come to dinner. At least try to eat a little… please.”
Too mentally and emotionally exhausted to argue, Valis got up and followed him out to the fire. Once they finished dinner and rested, combat training began. As the weight of his sword settled in Valis’ hand, his mind quieted and his heart eased. He followed along with Darolen and Kerac until it was time to spar. Rather than one-on-one, Darolen brought Kerac in, as well.
“No sides. Each man for himself,” Darolen rumbled. “No weapons. Nothing below the belt.”
When Valis and Kerac nodded, the fight began. It went on for some time. The snow clouds broke to show the moon above and let its light silver the snow. Everything went well until Kerac’s fist came at his face from seemingly nowhere. Valis dodged, but as he went to follow through, his knees buckled.
Kerac let out a startled gasp and pulled back his fist. “Valis!” He rushed to Valis’ side and dropped to his knees. “Valis, what is it? What happened?”
The sudden wave of dizziness forced Valis to close his eyes. “I don’t know.”
“He’s weak.” Darolen sighed and ran his fingers through his own shaggy hair. It needed cut as it was down to his shoulders. “He didn’t eat enough at dinner and hasn’t been eating enough to keep his strength up the last week.”
“I’m not hungry,” Valis groaned. “If I eat more, I’ll get sick.”
“Darolen, we need to find him a healer. He cannot go on like this!”
Darolen ghosted his hand over Valis’ brow. “No healer can fix this. Only he can.”
Valis groaned and rolled to his side. With Kerac’s help, he got his feet under him and stood. He wobbled once before he got his balance and leaned against Kerac’s chest. Both Aesriphos helped him to his tent though Darolen detoured to their packs before meeting them inside.
As Darolen knelt next to Valis, he held out a bundle. “I want you to eat, Valis.” He unwrapped the bundle to show leftovers of their venison steak, cooked and still warm. “I want this gone before you sleep.”
Juices rolled off the meat and into the waxed parchment pouch. In the dim light from the moon and fire that filtered through
the tent’s shroud, it looked like fresh blood. His stomach roiled, and he shrank away.
When he gagged, Kerac whimpered, “Valis, what is it?” He rested a hand on Valis’ stomach and gasped. “Darolen, his stomach is knotted and gurgling.”
“No meat,” Valis groaned. “Please. No meat.”
Sighing, Darolen wrapped the steak up and set it aside. “What about meat roils your belly so?”
He shook his head. When the smell hit him, Valis gagged and rolled onto his side. His mouth flooded with saliva so fast that he struggled to swallow fast enough not to choke or drool.
“Easy, son,” Darolen murmured. “Calm yourself.”
With a shudder, Valis got himself under control. He glanced at the wrapped meat again and curled up. “Every time I see or smell meat, cooked or raw, I can taste the bandits’ blood. I can see it, smell it. It’s everywhere, and I can’t get it off!”
Darolen sighed and leaned down to kiss his forehead. “Sleep, Valis.” He helped Kerac tuck him into his bedroll and smoothed Valis’ cloak over the top. “We will figure this out in the morning.”
Chapter Sixteen
Darolen deemed it too dangerous to stop in another town for supplies, even as winter raged around them, until they made it safely through Sithera and out of Isrivo. With another week or more yet to go before they reached the border to the latter, Darolen went off hunting and left Valis with Kerac at camp. Rygas was still at large, still following them for all they knew, so Valis wasn’t to be left alone, and definitely wasn’t to go foraging or hunting alone as he had at the beginning. Now that task always fell to Darolen while Kerac kept watch over the camp.
Valis shifted and looked around with a bored, frustrated sigh as he sipped the nutritious tea the Aesriphos concocted as a supplement to his decreased diet of mostly vegetables and fowl meat. At least they found a meat he could stomach. Venison or anything else made him nauseous, but the pinkish-white meat of most birds didn’t send him straight to gagging. After a moment of pacing, he finished his tea and huffed an explosive breath. He needed to do something, get away from the camp, stretch his legs after days in the saddle with nothing more to do than talk and stare at the bleak winter scenery. “I’m going foraging.”
