by T. A. Miles
“Why here?” Ashwin whispered. “I’m not the one who can heal you.” Why not Merran? he was asking silently.
Korsten didn’t move at all, except to speak, and he almost couldn’t do that. “Maybe I … should have let you try. Ashwin….” Very slowly, quiet sobs were escaping the younger man. “Just let me lie with you. I want to die here, please. I just … want to feel….”
Ashwin’s heart was bursting, filling with elation and sadness and such a warmth … he couldn’t describe it. He didn’t quite know what Korsten was trying to say to him, but he knew that he had his past restraint to thank for the other man’s trust right now. There was no question that he had been abused in more ways than what showed. Ashwin would have been furious, but at the moment he could only be gentle with his student. He very carefully gathered Korsten’s into his arms, supporting him rather than holding him.
“You’re not going to die here,” he said. And then he called for the young Apprentice he knew had been hovering outside his room all night in case he needed anything or changed his mind about eating.
The very young man entered with a tray of food, confirming Ashwin’s suspicions. When he saw Korsten, the boy dropped that tray and all that was on it. Dishes shattered and the tray itself clattered loudly upon the floor. “Is … that….”
“Summon a healer,” Ashwin commanded. “Be quick.”
The child turned to leave only to be faced with Merran, standing in the doorway, tears in his blue eyes as they settled upon the battered form in Ashwin’s bed. Without looking away, he touched the gray’s shoulder. “Go fetch Lord Eisleth. This may be beyond my skill.” Finally, he looked at Ashwin, who lowered his gaze to the man in his arms, dying, if he was to trust Merran’s graveness.
The Apprentice left and the Mage-Adept approached the bed. He lowered onto the edge, and reached cautiously for Korsten, as if seeking someone’s permission to touch him. Ashwin withdrew enough to let Korsten’s injured form rest upon the mattress, though he stayed beside him, finding his hand, which was nearly the only undamaged part of Korsten’s body, and holding it gently. You’re going to live. You’re more determined to live than you know. It doesn’t matter what they’ve done to you. Your will is stronger.
Merran began working a healing over Korsten’s reddened throat, where it appeared someone had attempted recently to choke the life from him. Afterward he performed a quick preliminary check over the rest of Korsten’s body. Korsten remained semi-conscious throughout the examination, scarcely making a sound, even when Merran spoke to him. He moved only once, just enough to squeeze Ashwin’s hand. Ashwin looked at their hands joined and felt the tears in his eyes slip down his cheeks. He invoked an easy spell without thinking, and took in a taste of Korsten’s suffering for himself. After reestablishing the spell-link they’d shared once before, Ashwin had to withdraw from his student for a moment. For one, Merran needed to finish his examination and also, Ashwin felt ill with what Korsten’s pain was telling him.
“I can heal the surface wounds,” Merran finally announced. “But I’m going to need Eisleth’s help to determine how severe the internal damage is and to tend to it.”
“Internal?” Ashwin echoed, hearing his voice less steady than he tried to make it.
“I suspect he’s bleeding inside,” Merran informed. “For more reasons than any assaults that were delivered with fist or foot.”
“You mean they raped him,” Ashwin clarified, his tone more disgusted than Merran’s unfailing clinical demeanor in a moment like this. He suspected as much, but having it confirmed in so many words helped him to fully realize the level of violence and humiliation Korsten had been subjected to.
“If he survives,” Merran continued, “he will need time to recover. Emotionally, he will need a great deal of time.”
Ashwin already knew that. He could feel as much. And he could feel what Merran felt, in spite of his stoicism. He’d felt it for a long time and wasn’t surprised when at last, it broke through the Mage-Adept’s mask and left him bent over Korsten in tears. Ashwin was having difficulty pitying him, however piteous his display happened to be. Merran had not cried since he was a child of fifteen, confused and angry after the murder of his family at the hands of the Vadryn. He wept then, on none other than Ashwin’s shoulder. At that time, Ashwin was inclined to comfort him, since his life-mentor was not so compassionate a soul. At that time, he never would have imagined that such a boy would grow to be his rival in a futile quest for a heart that could never be won.
Korsten’s heart had been stolen by a demon and while Ashwin respected that cursed love and otherwise stated his own feelings and intentions openly and honestly to Korsten, Merran had used deceit to secure a place for himself in Korsten’s bed. Beyond disappointed, Ashwin was resentful and jealous. He tried not to let that effect his behavior toward Merran, who remained one of the Seminary’s more reliable mages and still a welcomed ally in their overall cause, but he could not sympathize with Merran’s pain now. For too long Merran had acted heedless of Ashwin’s suffering and with too little care for the effect his deception would sooner or later have on Korsten.
“It ends now,” Ashwin said, and he didn’t realize that he had vocalized his thoughts until Merran lifted his tear-streaked face and looked at him. “I know it is lax here when dealing with matters of companionship, but there has always been one unspoken rule among us, and that is honesty. Perhaps I was wrong to behave as I did when Sharlotte was with us, but I never lied to her. You will not lie to Korsten any longer, if he should recover from this. Tell him the truth of what is in your heart and accept rejection if that is what he offers you, as I have.”
Merran stared at him a moment, then shook his head, as if in disbelief. “You would choose this time to speak of such things? Your jealousy has put you beside yourself, Lord Ashwin. This is no place for it.”
Ashwin glared immediately. He was infuriated by the other mage’s comment, that he would dare make such an urgent matter appear petty and as if it were of concern to only one of them. “Take care in your words. If my concern was only for myself, I would have poisoned your affair long ago by uttering truth to him about your actual feelings, that go well beyond comfort by now. They have for some time and yet you continued, knowing how he torments himself with worry over whether or not he has betrayed the person he loves.”
“It isn’t love,” Merran dismissed, wiping quickly at his eyes and proceeding with his healing magic over Korsten’s unconscious form. “He is bound by that beast. He doesn’t know how he truly feels about anyone.”
“You’re wrong,” Ashwin told him.
“Am I?” Merran just glanced at his superior while performing his spell. “Then he has betrayed his precious Renmyr anyway.”
“What are you saying?” Ashwin demanded, his tone low, seething as he verged upon losing his temper with the Mage-Adept. He watched the healer’s hands moving over Korsten, not making contact with him, but still seeming to touch him intimately.
“Whatever exists between Korsten and that demon … it’s you he loves. When he admits that to himself, I’ll let him go to you, as he clearly wants to. It was never my intention to stand between the two of you.”
The unexpected statement disarmed Ashwin. “Merran….”
“Please, don’t insult me by pretending that you can’t see it.” Merran looked up at him again. There may have been fresh tears in his eyes. “It’s you, Lord Ashwin. Whenever he feels betrayed by Renmyr Camirey, pushed to such a length that he’ll never be able to reach him again, whose shelter does he seek?” Returning to his work, Merran answered his own question. “Not mine. Both times, after he has come to the brink of death and realized that his lover is not present to save him and never will be, he has gone to you.”
“He trusts me,” Ashwin said, quietly.
“Yes,” Merran agreed, too easily. “More than Renmyr Camirey … more than me. The demon has
turned against him and damaged his heart, but not shattered it. I am merely someone who eases his pain from time to time. You make him feel safe, Ashwin. That is something that often only comes with love, be it between family or between lovers. And don’t even begin to tell me that he looks at a man like you and sees a father or a brother.”
Perhaps Ashwin should have been somewhat relieved to have that observation from Merran, but somehow he couldn’t believe that it was so simple. Merran had shared with Korsten in a way that Ashwin had not … in a way he could not, without damaging what they’d built this far. Ashwin could wait, forever if he had to. He could die not knowing that closeness with Korsten, though it was not his desire to do so. Still, he would if it were Korsten’s wish to keep a distance, but it was unbearable to know that someone else was taking advantage of the circumstances … serving themselves, whether they would admit to it or not. Merran was going to admit to it now. And if he truly cared for Korsten, he would accept loneliness for him.
Just as I have, Ashwin thought, giving his attention back to Korsten, who was mending well, at the surface.
Eisleth arrived finally, and Merran moved aside to allow the Mage-Superior to make his own assessment of Korsten’s condition. It wasn’t long before he began working a spell, a slightly different healing than what Merran had been performing to alleviate the bruising and close the skin where it was broken. Eisleth’s magic seeped beneath Korsten’s skin and made him stir.
Ashwin reached for him automatically, and wound up with his hand again. Korsten squeezed Ashwin’s fingers tightly when Eisleth’s next dose of magic entered him. It was evidently causing him pain. “Isn’t it working?” Ashwin asked.
“With internal damage, it’s complicated,” Eisleth explained. “Hit or miss, really, since there’s no way to see the areas that need mending. The spell searches for those areas, but the repair is made with haste and without salve to the affliction. Bleeding of this nature must be stopped quickly. A little extra pain is preferable over death. I’m sure you agree.”
Ashwin did agree, but that didn’t mean that he appreciated Eisleth’s cold manner.
“Merran, you understand how some of this damage was caused?” Eisleth asked his student.
“Yes, Lord Eisleth,” the Mage-Adept answered.
“You’ve assessed the emotional impact?”
Merran nodded and when his life-mentor looked at him, as if to ask him what conclusion he’d arrived at, he said, “I don’t believe he should be left alone, but leaving him in the care of just anyone may cause him to close in on himself.” Ashwin thought he knew what the man was going to suggest and he was thoroughly taken off guard when Merran said, “He Reached here, to his mentor, seeking shelter from the horror he left behind him. I believe he would shy from anyone else just now and that it would be best if he remained here for the time present. Lord Ashwin, I recommend that you stay by him, constantly if you’re able. He is likely to fear being taken back to where he was. If he obsesses about it, he is liable to Reach himself there by accident. They’ll surely kill him if he does.”
“I’ll stay with him,” Ashwin said, unable to look at Merran. He watched Eisleth instead, working his magic, presumably making some progress as Korsten reacted less to the invasion into his currently sensitive body.
“Interesting,” Eisleth suddenly said, his hand gliding over Korsten’s exposed and slightly less discolored chest. While Ashwin and Merran looked on with curiosity and concern, the darker Mage-Superior summoned a rounded lump of silver out of Korsten’s left breast. He held the item up in display to his present company, the shadow of a smile gracing his otherwise serene features. “Our very young Adept had a plan for escaping his captors whether or not he would be able to cast the Reach. It appears that he moved the weapon we gave him from his palm to his heart, to a space just beside it. If he’d have given it any shape at all, it would have pierced the organ and killed him, very near instantly. I suspect the opportunity to perform the Reach came last-moment, else he’d be dead right now.”
Ashwin stared at his silent student, bothered by the discovery before he understood. In this instance, suicide would have been justified. He’d endured far longer than others would have as it was. Thank you for holding out, Korsten. Ashwin’s gaze finally caught the red butterfly clinging to the wall above Korsten’s head. And thank you, Analee, for being with him.
Korsten sat up in the darkness. His hands were free for some reason. They’d left him lying on the floor unattended. Maybe they thought he was dead. He could get away. He would have to do it now, before…. “No!” Korsten cried out when hands touched him. “Let go!” The individual tried to restrain him. He resisted and wound up pinned beneath their weight, his arms pinned to either side of him. He recalled the silver beside his heart, determined to end it now, since he couldn’t get away. Their abuse was too much. He could still protect the Seminary and the others.
No, it’s gone! Gods, they’ve found it somehow and taken it from me!
“Stop,” Korsten begged, still struggling, deaf to his tormentor’s voice even as it shouted at him. “No more … please, just kill me … please….”
And then his captor said something strange. “You’re safe, Korsten. Calm yourself!”
That voice. It isn’t … it couldn’t be…. Korsten stopped writhing in the man’s grasp. He stopped to take in the darkness and felt its dimensions. There was a bed beneath him, not grimy stone. The air smelled of a soft fragrance rather than of filth and his own blood. The hands touching him were not rough and heavy, but soft … gentle. Korsten could see him now through the dimness of night. He could see a face that right now appeared more lovely than if a dozen glorious sunrises all shared the same moment, filling the sky with a myriad of orange-gold rays and soft clouds. Korsten felt instantly warm, hidden from the darkness … safe, at last.
“Ashwin,” Korsten whispered, and then all he could do was cry.
“It’s all right,” Ashwin said softly. His mentor lay down beside him and Korsten slid against him, as if any distance from his mentor would put him near the edge of Hell’s depths—which he had surely seen—and he would fall in.
“Don’t leave,” Korsten begged as the thought fed his fear, that he would fall back into that cell anyway without something to literally stop him. “Hold me, please. Don’t leave.”
Ashwin’s arms came around him. “I’m here.”
“Don’t leave,” Korsten said again. He moved his hands and leaned his face against the older man’s chest. “Don’t let me sleep, Ashwin. Please, I can’t bear the dreams. I can’t bear the dark and thoughts of being there again.”
“You’re all right now,” Ashwin promised him, holding him and doing nothing more. “Hush, Korsten. You’re safe.”
Korsten didn’t mean to, but he fell asleep. He awoke with someone beside him, sleeping as well. Ashwin’s breathing was quiet, peaceful. His body was warm, anchoring. Korsten didn’t want to move. He wanted to stay here, the last place he thought of being as he lay on the brink of death in a place that felt very much like Hell. This was Heaven, lying in this bed, clad in clean, cool silk. Some of the fabric belonged to the bedding, the rest belonged to robes … so many lush folds of white that it was difficult to tell where Korsten’s ended and Ashwin’s began. He’d been healed, but he still hurt. He couldn’t really tell if the pain was physical or not. He’d endured so much torment to his body and his mind that it scarcely seemed to matter while he was there, in the clutches of an enemy more cruel than he’d have ever imagined them to be. He would have died there, if there was no other option, but when the chance presented itself, he went to the place he’d rather die … in Ashwin’s arms.
He wondered what that meant. Even now, he … he wanted to argue that he couldn’t let go of Renmyr and he couldn’t embrace another until he did. But I don’t want anyone else. I had what I wanted. I lost it to the Vadryn. I don’t…. Korsten stopped h
imself in the midst of a lie. He looked at his hand, clutching Ashwin’s robe, so close to Ashwin’s hand, resting upon the other man’s chest. Korsten uncurled his fingers slowly, and reached toward his peaceful face.
“You’re awake,” Ashwin said softly and Korsten withdrew. “How are you feeling?”
Korsten avoided giving an answer. “How long have I been here?”
“You returned to us eight days ago. You’ve been asleep for most of that time. I know you asked me not to let you sleep, but you seemed in dire need of the rest. For that matter, so was I.”
“You stayed?” Korsten whispered, wanting to cry again, though he didn’t. “The entire time?”
“Yes,” Ashwin answered. He was looking at the ceiling. “I’ll stay longer, if you need me to. I’ll lie here with you until the world ceases to exist and we are forced to drift apart as stardust at the mercy of Heaven’s breath.”
“I’d take you seriously, if you weren’t smiling,” Korsten replied, believing he’d never wanted to see anything so badly as his mentor’s smile just now.
Ashwin turned his head to look at him. “My smile is not owed to teasing you, Korsten. I’ve missed you and worried about you, to the point of bringing myself to illness. It brings me unspeakable joy to have you here with me, to see you safe and healing.”
“Ashwin….” The tears returned. “I feel as if I’m dreaming, and I’ll wake up there again. I want this to be real. I don’t want to go back. I can’t….”
“This is real,” Ashwin said softly. “You have no more reason to fear. I promise you that I’m not going anywhere … and neither are you.”
