Saviors- Duty and Sacrifice

by Devon Vesper

  That steady hand wiped away the track of a tear and cupped Valis’ cheek in warmth. “Let us in, Valis. Let us love you again.”

  The agony that had built up over the last few hours crashed over him all at once, and Valis choked on a sob. “I’m sorry!”

  One moment Valis crumpled to a nest of snow and moldering dead leaves, and the next he was crushed against a plate-clad chest. His face found Darolen’s throat, and he sobbed. “I’m sorry!”

  “It’s okay, Son,” Darolen murmured into his hair. “It’s okay now. I’ve got you.” His naked hand rubbed comforting circles into Valis’ back. It stroked over his hair and massaged his neck. When all Valis could do was cry and babble, Darolen lifted his voice to song. Now, Valis understood the words.

  The journey is tough, my son.

  The road is long.

  In all your years of living,

  you still are so young.

  Pack your bags light, dear child.

  Say your goodbyes.

  Ahead are endless fields,

  and countless blue skies.

  I know not how long you will be.

  I know not how far.

  But take with you, sweet child,

  this sword and my heart.

  The journey is tough, my son,

  with adventure and pain.

  May all of your droughts

  be followed by rain.

  Keep me in your mind, dear child.

  Do not go astray.

  Remember my love for you.

  Let it bolster your way.

  I know not where or why you go.

  I know not the way.

  But take with you, sweet child,

  the Gods' will and pray.

  Into the darkness, my son,

  you will lose your light.

  Phaerith will guide you

  if you but fight.

  Scarred and battered,

  your soul will be sore.

  I cannot imagine

  the grief of war.

  I know not where to shine my light.

  You must make your own.

  But remember, sweet child,

  it will guide you home.

  Home may not be where I am.

  It may be quite far.

  Just know that I love you

  just as you are.

  So pack your bags light, dear child.

  Say your goodbyes.

  Ahead are endless fields,

  and cloudless blue skies.

  I know not how long you will be.

  I know not how far.

  But take with you, my son,

  this sword and my heart.

  Valis’ body shook with the force of his sobs. He clung to Darolen’s armor as if the man would disappear. His arms slid up his chest as he cried. He wrapped them about Darolen’s neck and held on for all he was worth as the older man rocked him back and forth. The bitter cold of the falling evening was dashed away by Darolen’s intense warmth. Darolen was alive. Strong. He was sweaty from the battle, his armor didn’t quite hide the tremors that went through him, but he was alive, and Valis couldn’t get close enough.

  Then the weight of just what he had done bore down on him. Even when he cried himself out, it pulled him down until it felt like he would drown in his own tears. Darolen urged him up. “Come on, Son. Let’s get this buck and the rabbits back to camp so we have time to butcher them before it’s too dark.” When Valis looked up, the roan stood at the edge of the clearing, Rygas’ corpse draped over the saddle. The three pack horses that Valis had forgotten about followed close by, led by tethers attached to the roan’s saddle. Darolen went to gather the reins of Rygas’ horse and led him back, flopped the deer carcass over his rump. “Come on.”

  Nodding, Valis struggled to his feet with Darolen’s help. That warm, strong hand remained on his lower back as the Aesriphos guided him through the woods, leading Rygas’ horse with the other. When they made it back to camp, Kerac glanced up. A dark bruise started to purple the swollen skin of his left cheek. The sad frown he wore tugged at Valis’ heart.

  I did that. I put that look there. Monster…

  The frown melted away to concern. With a gasp and breath that clouded the air, Kerac got to his feet and reached for him. “Valis…”

  Valis sucked in a sob and pressed his lips together against a hoarse cry as he ran to him. He expected to be shoved away. He expected to be hit and scolded. Instead, Kerac hugged him so tight that Valis’ ribs creaked under the strain.

  “Gods, I was so worried!”

  “I’m sorry,” he wailed. “I’m so sorry! I almost got Darolen killed!”

  He didn’t say a word. Face buried in Valis’ hair, he rocked them for a long moment, his arms a vise around Valis’ chest. When they finally relaxed, Valis felt the tremors in Kerac’s muscles. He brought his hands up to gently touch Valis’ bruised neck, then cupped Valis’ face and rested their foreheads together. “You were right, though. I am not your father.”

  For the first time in over a month, Valis found a small smile even as he wept. “I don’t deserve fathers as patient and kind as you and Darolen.”

  Free of his upper armor, Darolen pressed against Valis’ back and pulled Kerac closer to his front until Valis was sandwiched between the two larger men. He sounded amused as he murmured, “You may not be the son of our loins, Valis. But you are the son of our hearts.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  It took over a month of sleeping in the tent with Kerac and Darolen for the nightmares to go away. With winter raging around them, neither Aesriphos complained due to the extra body heat. As they traveled through Isrivo, they both admitted they also felt better with him close at hand for safety. Even with Valis’ uncle dead, they didn’t want to risk anything else going amiss. Not after Valis was abducted. Not after Darolen almost died.

  Even after constant coddling and weeks of gentleness, if Valis wasn’t dreaming of seas of severed heads with ragged, dripping necks, he relived the moment where he punched Kerac in the face, or of where Darolen had fallen like a leaf on a gentle breeze, lifeless for that brief second. But in his dreams, Darolen was bloody, and it was his eyes that had widened with death, not Rygas’. All of those dreams woke him up screaming and crying. All left him emotionally frayed.

  This morning though, a rough, chilly hand shook his shoulder. His bedroll was warm and comfortable in the frosty morning. The tent still smelled of Kerac and Darolen, and with that scent came the feeling of utter safety. The hand shook him again, and Kerac laughed.

  “Wake up, Valis,” he said with a breathy chuckle. “Wake up! It’s time to break camp!”

  Valis groaned and pulled the cover over his head to block out the light and winter chill. Sleep still clung to him and tried to drag him back down into its embrace. That cold hand stole under his cover and tickled his ribs. It didn’t relent until breathless giggles and wordless cries dashed the sleepy haze away and he batted at the wriggling digits.

  With a long stretch and loud yawn, Valis rolled onto his back and sighed. “I wish I could sleep in the saddle. So tired.” He opened his eyes and reached up, ghosting his fingers over the clean skin where the bruise used to be on Kerac’s cheek.

  I could heal it, Valis, Kerac had said when Valis mourned at how black and swollen it was. I choose not to. Let it be a visual reminder to burn in your mind of what happens when you keep your feelings locked away and lose control of yourself.

  Of course, he had healed the angry bruises around Valis’ throat and the cuts and scrapes on his knuckles, but he had left his own bruise alone. Seeing Kerac’s fade day by day impacted Valis. He stared at the unmarred patch, caressed it as he let his body wake up. “It looks healed, but I feel as if I can still see it.”

  Kerac smiled and kissed his forehead, ignoring his words. “You look better today. The dark circles under your eyes are beginning to fade. Your skin is looking healthier as well.”

  Scrubbing a hand over his face, Valis groaned. “I could
use a few more hours’ sleep. Otherwise, I feel well.”

  He nodded and sat back. “You didn’t even whimper last night.”

  “I don’t remember dreaming at all,” Valis admitted. “Waking up to your laughter feels amazing.”

  “Well,” he paused with a secretive grin and glanced out the tent, “there are more surprises yet in store for today. So, up you get. We need to head out. Everything is packed except your bedroll and the tent.”

  Valis blinked to rid his eyes of the sticky film from sleep that blurred his vision and got up to peer outside the tent. True to his word, the saddled horses stood at the ready, packs in order, with Darolen securing the last bits. The horses for the wagon stood tall, ready to haul their burden for another day. They’d managed to sell Rygas’ roan and pack horses at a small village not far from where Rygas had attacked, but kept his supplies.

  His stomach rumbled, breaking him out of the morose thoughts thinking about his uncle always brought. He rubbed the grumbling beast and looked forlornly at the tent’s flaps. “I slept through breakfast...”

  Laughing merrily, Kerac swatted his backside and gave a playful shove to get him out the tent. “We saved you some. I figured that if your deep sleep meant anything, you would be ravenous this morning. Go and eat while I break down the tent and help finish packing.”

  From the time the scent of food hit his nose, to the time he licked his plate clean, it seemed like only seconds. Kerac must have taken his time as he just now tethered the tent and bedroll to the pack horse as Valis washed his plate and utensils with clean snow. When everything was ready to go, he straightened his shirt, boots, and cloak, donned his sword belt, and vaulted into the saddle.

  He grinned as he asked, “So, what is this surprise?”

  Both Aesriphos laughed and mounted up. Darolen turned an evil grin on him. “Something you will like. Leave it at that, or we’ll find ways of making you wait.”

  “You wouldn’t!” Valis cried. He laughed, though. It had been such a long time since he felt good and happy that the laughter bubbled up in him regardless of his want. “Darolen!”

  The craggy man let out an almost evil chuckle and urged his horse on. “We will see.”

  Huffing a good-natured sigh, Valis settled in for the ride, though his insides squirmed pleasantly with the thought of being surprised. What could it be? Another town? Could they eat at a tavern tonight, or have clean beds instead of sleeping in the tent all the time? Were they going to get him more milk? The thought of that had his stomach screaming, and his mouth filled with saliva that he had to choke down. They hadn’t been able to get him fresh milk in what seemed like forever.

  Before Valis could start thinking of more ways to torture himself along the journey, Kerac trotted his horse up next to him and grinned, intent on distraction by the amused look on his handsome face.

  “I don’t like that look,” Valis said, matching his grin.

  “Oh, you will in a moment,” he teased.

  “What?”

  Kerac’s grin grew brighter than the sun as they crested the hill and he pointed forward. “Welcome to Arlvor, Valis.”

  Valis stared at the expanse of snow. The only thing marring the white landscape were a few bare trees and a small walled-in border garrison in the distance. The white stone gleamed in the dim light that filtered through thick winter clouds. Though, with the white stones, it blended into the snow. Gold and blue banners waved in the wind, giving a clearer marking to the buildings.

  The grin that stretched across Valis’ face made his cheeks and jaw ache more than the cold. “How far to Cadoras?”

  “Two weeks or so,” Darolen said. “We will stay at the garrison for the day and tonight. After real baths, Kerac and I will get our armor mended, all of our clothes washed properly, and we must check your father in as a prisoner in our care.”

  Turning in his saddle again, Darolen stressed: “Hot food, hot bath, chairs and a real bed.”

  Kerac and Valis moaned in unison, “A real bed!”

  Darolen let out a hearty laugh as he urged his mount forward. “Let’s get moving, then!”

  Soon, they were all at a gallop, Kerac behind the wagon to make sure the tethers held and nothing bounced out. The garrison grew larger as they neared until the impressive structure loomed over them. Valis marveled at it. It seemed so much smaller from a distance. A walled perimeter protected six interior buildings cut from the same polished white stone. At even intervals on the walls, both outside, and inside, spells of protection glowed where the golden sigils were etched into the stone. From them, a shimmering golden shield domed the place, extending a few feet outside of the perimeter.

  As they neared the shield, Kerac grasped Valis’ forearm. “Stay with me until we reach the inner courtyard. If I break contact with you before your essence is added to the shield, you will be expelled, and it is not a pleasant experience.”

  His eyes went wide as he nodded, and he urged his horse closer to Kerac’s until their knees squished together. Once they reached the inner courtyard, a guard in similar armor—though with sparse blue enameling as the only decoration—stalked up to them.

  “Ho there, Brothers,” he said with a polite nod of his head. “State your business, please.”

  “We bring a follower of Qos for registry on our way to Avristin,” Darolen said. “The mage’s son with us needs his essence added to the shields throughout Arlvor.”

  The guard nodded and came around to Valis’ left. He reached up and grabbed his waist in a surprisingly gentle hold. “Dismount please, and we will get you sorted.”

  Valis hesitated only a moment, but nodded and dismounted. The guard’s hold shifted to his shoulder. “I am Brother Hakas, lad. What is your name?”

  “Valis Bakor, Sir. I am from Vau Taun in Evakis. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  Hakas chuckled. “Such manners, lad. I like you.” He led the way toward the rear building, keeping his hand firmly on Valis’ shoulder. “What are your plans in Arlvor?”

  Anxiety crept into Valis’ gut as he looked over his shoulder and noticed Kerac and Darolen weren’t following. Kerac turned toward him, gave him a fond smile, shooed him away with his hand, and called, “Go on. It’s okay.”

  With a nod, Valis turned back around to watch where he was going and thought of his answer. “Kerac and Darolen want me to stay at the monastery.”

  “And what do you want,” he asked.

  That needed no thought. “I want to make them proud.”

  The guard laughed again and shook his head. “They are blessed to have such devotion.” They entered the building, and Hakas led him through a series of hallways, talking throughout. “How did you meet?”

  He told him the short version of the story, and ended with, “They’ve been more family to me than I’ve ever known.”

  Hakas listened with rapt attention, a bright grin on his face. It made his close-cut black goatee bristle and his green eyes shine. “Aw, bless.” He squeezed Valis’ shoulder and stopped him outside of a carved wooden door. “You’ll make them proud, lad. I have faith in you.”

  Valis beamed and nodded. “I’ll do my best.”

  “I’m sure you will.” He pointed to the door and became a little more serious. “The Patron Priest is Brother Cazho. He’s a little hard of hearing, crazier than a bag of angry cats, and has an odd sense of humor. Smile, nod, and pray he doesn’t try to prank you.”

  Valis didn’t know whether to laugh at the explanation, or be extremely worried by the look on Hakas’ face. Picking the middle ground, he adopted an uneasy smile and nodded. “Right.”

  He squeezed Valis shoulder again. “Remember, be honest... and laugh at his obvious jokes. They’re terrible.”

  With that, he rapped on the door and opened it without waiting for an answer. A stately man stood staring out the window with his hands clasped behind his back. White hair that reached his shoulder blades rested in a neat ponytail gathered at the base of his neck in a blue ribbon. Rathe
r than decorated armor, he wore loose white pants and matching tunic with gold and blue hemming.

  As if he sensed them enter, the Patron Priest turned around and regarded Valis seriously for a moment, then turned his gaze on Hakas. “Who is this strapping ragamuffin? I told you. We are not a brothel.”

  Chuckling, Hakas shook his head. “Valis Bakor needs his essence added to the shields, Brother. He travels to Avristin with two Aesriphos, Brothers Darolen and Kerac.”

  “Ah, I know these men.” Cazho rubbed his chin and headed to an altar. “Bring the ragamuffin to me. If I am going to open an artery, I would rather not have blood on my carpets.”

  Valis stiffened and drew closer to Hakas’ side. He knew his eyes were too large and his breath too fast. Hakas, though, smirked and shook his head. “Don’t scare the lad.”

  Cazho perked a brow and glanced at Valis. Then he stared hard. His expression broke into amusement and he laughed. “It was a joke, Child. Come, come. I cannot add you to the shields from all the way over there.” Even as he said that, he picked up an ornate dagger and twirled it in his hand as if it were a sword he wielded.

  “It’s okay, Valis,” Hakas murmured. “Just a small amount of blood. He isn’t going to gut you... I hope.”

  “You hope?” Valis squeaked.

  “Crazy. As a bag of cats,” Hakas stressed quietly as he guided Valis toward the Patron Priest.

  Once they reached the altar, Cazho’s right hand darted out and grasped Valis’ left. The Patron Priest’s strong grip surprised him, and he instinctively tried to snatch his hand back. Cazho held him firm. With a deep breath, he shoved the dagger into the air, point up and screamed, “BY THE POWER OF PHAERITH,” he quieted down and quickly pricked Valis’ finger with the tip of the blade, “I add you to the shields.”

  Too shocked to move, Valis only stared as Cazho smeared his bloody forefinger on a piece of parchment and let go of his trembling hand. Cazho winked at him with an amused grin and turned from him, placed the scrap of parchment in a small blue dish on the altar and murmured a few words over it that Valis couldn’t catch. His blood glowed virulent red, then flared with golden light.