Loyalty and War

by Devon Vesper

  “It would have been easier to let him wake in the conservatory rather than carting him across the manse to your room,” Shyvus complained. “It was just as plush.”

  “That may be, but we needed to get to a scrying bowl, anyway,” Tavros mumbled as he stroked Valis’s hair from his forehead. “He’ll want to contact Thyran as soon as he’s fully out of it.”

  “Ah, yes. I forgot. My apologies, Grand Master.” And for once, Shyvus didn’t tease when he used the honorific.

  Valis groaned as they laid him on the bed and reached blindly for his husband. “How long was I out?”

  “About half an hour,” Tavros said. He caught Valis’s hand and kissed his palm. “You bumped your head on the settee on the way down.”

  “I don’t feel it,” Valis said. “Ugh. I need to sit up. Thyran needs to hear this.”

  He peeked his eyes open and squinted in the low light of the room, thankful that they had lowered the lamp wicks and doused the mage lights to make the glow gentle and warm.

  “Take your time,” Tavros murmured into his hair.

  “I want four reliquary guards, Vodis and Venabi, as well as Jintas and his lieutenant, Sirvi, in the room while I scry. You all need to hear this, and the reliquary guards can tell whoever needs to know.” Valis focused on Shyvus when he said the last bit. “Go assemble them in the study so I can get this over with. I would seriously like to enjoy a few minutes of peace before we head out in the morning.

  “And after this meeting, I’d like everyone assembled in the receiving room downstairs. Make it happen, please.”

  As everyone but Tavros left, Valis rubbed his tired eyes and sighed.

  My son, Roba said softly in his mind. You must find out when that vision happened. I can see it in your mind, and if they already have one anchor, they might have most of the provisions necessary to tether the remaining three to Qos.

  How would I go about that? Valis asked. I could scry, but that’s too dangerous. If I get caught…

  There is always dreamwalking, Roba hesitantly suggested. It is just as dangerous, but it is a viable option as much as scrying is.

  Sighing, Valis headed for the door. Tavros took his hand and drew him back until Valis was tucked against his husband’s chest. “It will be all right,” he whispered.

  “I know.” Valis pressed a gentle kiss to Tavros’s lips. What was supposed to be a chaste peck, Tavros turned it into a slow, sultry melding of mouths. Their tongues met in a wet slide that had Valis’s cock waking up even though they’d just made love a few hours before.

  After several minutes of bliss wrapped in his husband’s strong arms and basking in his love, Valis chuckled and pulled away. He adjusted his dick and smirked. “Later, love. We have duty to attend.”

  Tavros grinned. “Not even sorry, and I’ll hold you to that.”

  Both of them had tented their uniform pants. Valis thought about the most disgusting and horrendous things he could imagine to get his cock to deflate. Once they both appeared more respectable, Valis led Tavros out of their room and headed for the study.

  “Gods, Valis.” Shyvus chuckled, and it spread to the rest of the study’s occupants. “You both look totally debauched. Haven’t you both had enough when you had Tavros screaming the place down?”

  Valis’s face flamed with a blush that felt hotter than the sun, but he pushed the embarrassment away to go sit down at the enormous desk and pulled the scrying bowl to himself. Someone had already filled it, and some of the water sloshed over the side. He brushed the water off the desk, wetting his tunic, and sighed.

  “I summoned you all because you need to hear what transpired in the vision I had. And you all know that the moment I come out of a vision, I have to alert Thyran and give him all the details. So, I might as well kill two birds with one stone. And I trust you all to disseminate the information to those who need to know.”

  Murmurs of agreement passed through the group, and Valis gave them a small smile before turning his entire focus to scrying, calling upon Thyran until his mentor’s face appeared in the gently rippling water.

  “You have news for me,” Thyran stated from Valis’s scrying bowl. “And your eyes are no longer gold. Good.” Valis sat in the very posh and elegantly decorated office of the now-deceased Qos anchor, Angus Braywar.

  “Meditation worked,” Valis said. “And I’ll be doing it often.” He ignored the splendor of the room, leaning his head in both hands, his elbows resting rudely on the giant redwood desk with its carved skirting and claw-shaped feet. The monstrosity, while beautiful, took up almost half the room, making Valis fight off feelings of claustrophobia.

  Thyran must have picked up on it, because he said, “You look both ill and excited. Choose one, please. You are worrying a very old man.”

  Valis huffed a sardonic laugh, putting the office out of his mind and focusing solely on his mentor, friend, and now his direct superior—the August Patriarch of Avristin. “You’ll outlive me.”

  “Perhaps,” Thyran said. “Perhaps not.” Then he heaved a sigh, ran his hand through his short salt and pepper hair, pinned Valis in place with his piercing blue gaze, and pressed his lips into a tight line before muttering, “Do not get me off topic, young man. What do you have for me?”

  “In Braywar’s things, he had a set of directions under a literary ward. They are directions to the enemy monastery. Thyran… the monastery is exactly the same in every way as Avristin. They built it to mimic Avristin, only it’s inside a fucking mountain. I’ve never seen anything like this before.”

  “How far did you scry?” Thyran asked, suddenly sharp, stern, and serious. “Did you get any precognitive feelings during it?”

  Valis shook his head. “No stomach pitting. And I made sure my scries were brief. I wasn’t discovered. But I did get a decent mental map of the interior. It’s… Thyran, it’s exactly the same. Libraries are in the same place. Common rooms, too. The temple up in the highest point has an amorphous blob of darkness where Avristin has the Light of Phaerith. That’s the only difference I could see during that scry other than the fact that it doesn’t have any of the relics in the reliquary that Avristin has.”

  He took a deep breath and stretched the tension out of his neck. “I managed to get a mental map of the route from where we are to the cave entrance, and the correct passage from the cave entrance, through the underground cave labyrinth, and to the monastery.”

  “I’d suggest getting a proper map made,” Thyran said, “but that might be risky. The cartographer could easily be a Qos adherent or sympathizer. I don’t want you risking yourself, so make sure you do that test you told me about. The one you did with the farmer and the rest of the town in Tigak.”

  “I already have a map,” Valis said. “It’s in my head. If I could send you a copy, I would. But my translocation ability failed me in combat, and I’m not sure why. And sending a courier is too dangerous with the amount of snow that we have to melt just to keep moving.” Then he grinned sheepishly. “Though, that is assuming my drawings would be at all legible.”

  “Hire a cartographer,” Thyran ordered. “And don’t worry about phasing, Valis.” Thyran went from stern to compassionate in a breath and gave Valis a supportive smile that had him warm to his toes. “You’ve done exceptionally well, and I am very proud of you. Your translocation ability may have been hampered by a security spell placed on the building or compound to keep translocators from phasing in or out. I sincerely doubt it was a fault with your ability.”

  The historian—no, the August Patriarch—waved the subject away. “Do not worry on it. And do not worry about getting a map to me. When you can, find a cartographer to get a proper map made, so your army knows where to go in case you are incapacitated in any way. That is an order.”

  “Oh, yeah. Damn. That’s a good idea.” Valis groaned. “I should have thought of that. With how Tavros got incapacitated so easily, it could very well be me or anyone else next.”

  “Exactly.” Thyran sat back. He
seemed pensive and ran a hand down his face in a rare show of worry. Or was it agitation? “I wish I could keep a better eye on you.”

  “Don’t worry, Thyran.” Valis got a little closer to the bowl as if the nearness to the water would allow him to feel his friend’s presence. “I’m not stupid, and I’m as careful as I can be at all times.”

  “It isn’t your stupidity I am worried about, child.” Thyran frowned and looked off to the side, giving Valis a good look at his stately profile. “Anyway…” He turned back to Valis and stared him in the eye. “Head to Neri City in Endyer. They have a master cartographer you can hire.”

  “Or I could go to the town we just left,” Valis said. “They have a master cartographer who showed us the way to this estate.”

  Thyran smirked. “He most likely apprenticed to the master in Neri City. There is no sense in backtracking, my boy. Just remember to test them for their allegiance. You must complete your objective and return home where you and your army belong.”

  Valis shivered. His army. He didn’t truly realize it before, but it was true. As the new Grand Master Aesriphos, he and Tavros held the army in their hands. The entire order reported directly to him now, as his rank was just under Thyran when it came to the Aesriphos Order, and directly under the Sovereign Priest, Kyris Yavih, otherwise. It was a heady feeling, but it also brought with it a measure of anxiety. Thankfully, though, the heady feeling overwhelmed the anxiety and let Valis function.

  Catching himself staring into nothing, Valis nodded and stopped playing with the rim of the bowl. “We’ll head to Neri City.”

  Then he shook himself and refocused on his friend’s face. “I almost forgot. That’s not all.”

  “You had a vision,” Thyran guessed. He shuffled around. The sound of rustling paper obscured his mentor’s breathing. “Proceed. I am ready.”

  Valis wasted no time. The story of what he saw flowed out of him like water through a broken dam. Near the end, Valis was breathless, and he groaned. “I just realized that it’s past the sixth of Peace. I can’t fail again.”

  “You did not fail, Valis,” Thyran said earnestly. “You are trekking through rough lands with constant blizzards to accompany you. You are doing the best you can, and I know you will continue to do so. There was no way for you to get to your target that early.” Thyran gave him a gentle, fatherly smile. “You are exactly where you need to be. Trust in that.”

  “Yes, sir.” Valis wiped his damp palms on his pants and stared into the reflection of his mentor’s eyes. “We just need to strategize in case we have to deal with four anchors when we reach our destination.”

  “That would be wise,” Thyran said, a touch of pride in his voice. It shone from his eyes, as well, telling Valis better than any words could convey that his friend was more than proud of how far Valis had come, and how he had taken to his new leadership role.

  “Now,” Thyran’s voice became somewhat stern, “how do you plan on telling whether this vision is past, present, or future?”

  Valis glanced up, his eyes darting from one person to the next before he blew out a breath in frustration. “I’m not sure, to be completely honest. I just know that I received the vision because we’ll be going up against an anchor—a woman with black hair streaked with white—and none of us have a choice in the matter. And if they manage to create more, we’re going to have a massive battle on our hands the likes of which I’ve never seen and hope to never see. I’d rather not lose any more of my men and women.”

  “That gives us no usable information.”

  Nodding, Valis sighed. He needed to propose his solution, but knew at least half the people in the study would object, especially Thyran and Tavros.

  Thyran tutted. “You are thinking too hard, child.”

  His mentor sighed when Valis shrugged. “I have an idea, but everyone is going to hate it.”

  “Spit it out,” Thyran said. “We might be more accepting than you realize.”

  “I could dreamwalk to the enemy monastery and nose around.”

  It seemed as if a silencing spell had descended as everyone stopped breathing at once. Then they all talked over each other, all starting with a vehement “No!”

  Valis lifted his voice, “That’s enough! Quiet.”

  To his surprise, everyone obeyed. A moment later, Tavros stepped to his side and glared down at him. “Absolutely not, Valis. If your soul is injured while you are dreamwalking, you can die. And we don’t know if they have any traps that could harm you in your astral state.” Then he whispered, “What if you can’t find your way back? What if you want to stay in that state? People have died, love, and your body is so vulnerable when you vacate it, especially with as long as you may be gone.”

  Reaching for his husband’s hand, Valis gave it a reassuring squeeze and focused on Thyran, who, instead of looking angry and protective, looked like he was calculating the risks against the possible rewards. “What do you hope to find during this dreamwalk?”

  “I have no idea, to be honest,” Valis muttered. “I just… feel like it needs to be done.”

  “A precognitive feeling?”

  Valis nodded hesitantly. “I believe so, yes. It feels right.”

  “Love, no…”

  “I have to, Tav.” Valis squeezed Tavros’s hand and looked up at him. His husband had a deep-set frown marring his features, his brows drawn together and worry in his eyes. “We’ll discuss this later, okay?”

  Tavros hesitated a moment, but after careful consideration, nodded and squeezed Valis’s hand back.

  “You can’t be serious!” Shyvus cried. “It’s a suicide mission! And no one in history has dreamwalked anywhere near the distance you plan to travel. What if the tether to your body breaks? You will never find your way back. Think about this, Valis. There must be another way.”

  Again, everyone tried to talk over each other. The sound made Valis’s head pound with a sudden headache. He thudded his elbows on the table and rubbed his temples. “Guys.” When no one shut their mouths, Valis raised his voice in a stern order, “Guys! Shut up.”

  A deathly silence descended as everyone looked at him with wide eyes. Venabi stepped forward and stared at him. She absently scratched the livid pink scar that traveled down her cheek, contrasting with her light brown complexion. “You believe in your ability.”

  Valis nodded. “I do.”

  “You have dreamwalked before, yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “But never that far!” Shyvus argued. “And didn’t you only do it once, Valis?”

  Sighing, Valis went back to rubbing his temples. “Yes. Because I only needed to do it once.”

  Jintas, the leader of the mercenaries, peered at Valis from between Shyvus and Phalin. “Is there no way to pull you back if you’re gone too long, or are in any kind of apparent danger?”

  Valis flicked his gaze toward Tavros, then down into his scrying bowl. He’d almost forgotten that he had a scry open with Thyran. “I have no idea.”

  Thyran smirked. “Simply wake him up. His consciousness—his soul—will snap back to his body within seconds, if not immediately.”

  “Then, I support Valis’s suggestion of a dreamwalk.”

  “Thank you, Jintas,” Valis said. He looked around at the others. “Well?”

  “I assume you mean to have Tavros keep watch over your body while you are gone,” Thyran said. “If this is the case, I approve of your suggestion. Though my approval comes with one condition. If at any time, you encounter another dreamwalker, or if you feel a sudden wash of revulsion—of evil—I want you to abort the dreamwalk and return to your body immediately.”

  “Thyran, you can’t be serious!” Tavros roared. “I had thought at least you would make him see reason!”

  Valis caught Thyran’s gentle smile in the scrying bowl. “Tavros… How many times must we discuss—”

  “No, Thyran,” Tavros said. “No. There is no discussion. I don’t care if you have precognition. It can always be wrong.
You could always see the wrong path.”

  “Tav—”

  “No, Valis.” Tavros lowered his voice. “I can’t lose you. Please…”

  “You won’t lose me,” Valis promised. “You will be looking over my body, and you all can do it in shifts if it will make you feel better about the situation. But I’m not backing down. I will be as careful as I’m able.” He squeezed Tavros’s hand and gave him an earnest look. “I don’t want to leave you, so trust that I won’t put myself in unnecessary danger while I’m there, and at the first sign of danger, I will return immediately.”

  “You’re not going to allow me to talk you out of this, are you?” Tavros accused, but he sounded defeated.

  “No,” Valis murmured. “This is too important. And with you and others watching over my body, I’ll be as safe as I can be. We can come up with a plan. Perhaps a time limit. If I’m gone for more than an hour, you wake me up. If I’m unsuccessful but safe, I can always try again with another time limit.”

  Tavros’s shoulders sagged, and he nodded. “Fine. We can handle that.” Tavros turned his attention to the leaders, and Valis hoped they sided with him now that his husband was on board.

  Vodis, who had been mostly quiet this entire time, sighed. “You folks are crazy, but we need this information.”

  Mumbles went through the four reliquary guards. Shyvus and Phalin spoke softly to each other, making plans of their own. Brogan and Rylas just stared at Valis a moment before Brogan groaned. “You’re going to give me gray hair, brat.”

  Rylas snickered. “You’d look so distinguished!”

  “Hush, you.”

  Rylas snorted, but he dropped the subject and returned his attention to Valis. “I’m in, Valis. Brogan is, too, or I’ll guilt him into it.”

  “That’s just mean,” Brogan groused as he poked his husband in the side.

  “Guys,” Valis said, “can we focus, please?”

  Everyone quieted down, and Valis turned back to his scry with Thyran. “Okay. I think we’re in for the night. Any special requests?”

  “Try to find out who the Sovereign Priest of Qos is,” Thyran ordered.