10: His Holy Bones

by Ginn Hale

  He simply held Ravishan. The tension seemed to melt from Ravishan’s body. He sighed deeply and pressed his face against John’s neck. Relief flooded John’s body. He stood for several moments just holding Ravishan and feeling his embrace returned.

  The sensation of stubble prickling John’s skin was strangely pleasant. He bowed his head a little and kissed Ravishan’s hair. He closed his eyes. For the first time in nearly two weeks he felt right and relaxed. Ravishan whispered his name.

  “You looked so different when I saw you rising from the valley,” Ravishan whispered. “You seemed so furious and brutal. I couldn’t imagine that you were still the man I knew. I thought I had lost you to the Rifter.”

  “No, you haven’t lost me.” John kissed Ravishan’s lips lightly. Ravishan ran his hand down John’s ribs and touched the curve of his hip. He watched John intently, as if searching for some sign of the Rifter in his countenance. John tried to give him a kind and reassuring smile, but his body ached with desire. The gentle weight of Ravishan’s fingers throbbed through him.

  “I’m tired and you’re still weak. We should go to bed,” John said.

  He led Ravishan back past the infirmary to the small room Wah’roa had given him. The bed was large and carved with images of moons and vines. John pulled back the silk quilts and lowered Ravishan down to the clean white sheets. He quickly pulled off his own filthy clothes. Ravishan watched him for a moment. Then slowly he undressed. John wished that he had water to wash with. Instead John wiped the worst of the sweat and dirt from his body with a towel.

  He dropped down into the bed beside Ravishan and pulled the soft blankets up around them both. Ravishan hesitantly ran a hand over John’s bare chest. A rush of intense arousal pulsed through John’s body. He shifted closer.

  Ravishan smiled almost shyly.

  “You haven’t changed at all, have you?” Ravishan asked.

  “I still love you,” John said. “That won’t ever change.”

  Ravishan’s hand drifted teasingly lower over John’s abdomen. John’s breath caught in his throat, but as he pressed against Ravishan’s naked body, John felt Ravishan’s exhaustion and abandoned all carnal thoughts.

  “It’s cruel to toy with me when we both know you’re too tired to carry through.” John caught Ravishan’s hand and lifted it to his mouth. He kissed Ravishan’s fingers and palm.

  Ravishan rested his head against John’s shoulder. His eyes were shadowed beneath his dark lashes and almost completely closed. A few moments later he was asleep. John kissed him again and then he, too, drifted into dreams.

  Hours later, a soft but insistent knocking at the door woke John. Ravishan still lay in his arms sleeping. The air felt bitterly cold and John guessed that it wasn’t much past sunrise.

  “Who is it?” John called. He glanced down to see if his voice had disturbed Ravishan’s rest.

  Ravishan cracked one red-rimmed eye open.

  “Tell them to go away.” Ravishan nestled his face into the pillows.

  “It’s Kahlirash Wah’roa, my lord Jath’ibaye,” Wah’roa called from the other side of the door. “The Fai’daum demoness wishes to hold council with you.”

  “Council?” John sat up. Ravishan grumbled several obscenities into his pillow. John smiled down at him; he sounded much more like himself this morning.

  “Don’t go yet,” Ravishan whispered. His hand snaked through the blankets and curled over John’s groin.

  “She wishes to discuss the future organization of the fortress,” Wah’roa continued speaking through the door. John hardly registered the words as Ravishan continued to stroke him lazily.

  “We have agreed that it would be best if you were to oversee the proceedings,” Wah’roa added after John failed to respond.

  “Yes, all right,” John managed to reply. He pulled Ravishan to him and kissed him fiercely. Ravishan leaned into him and John ran his hands over Ravishan, caressing his slim body and taking pleasure in Ravishan’s gasps and shudders.

  “My lord Jath’ibaye?” Wah’roa asked.

  “We’ll be out in a few minutes,” John shouted. If Wah’roa said anything else, John didn’t register it. The taste and feel of Ravishan’s body absorbed him. They moved together in mounting ecstasy until at last Ravishan called out his climax in a deep moan against John’s shoulder. This once John wasn’t so quiet. He felt too much joy, reclaiming this moment between them. Afterwards they lay in the damp bedding. John smiled at Ravishan’s sleepy expression like a giddy idiot.

  “Is something the matter, my lord Jath’ibaye?” Wah’roa’s voice broke into the sensual lassitude of John’s thoughts. With horror, he realized that Wah’roa had remained outside the door waiting the entire time.

  “No, nothing,” John said. “I’m on my way.”

  He sat up and grabbed his clothes. He dressed quickly. Ravishan gathered his own scavenged garments a little more slowly.

  “You don’t have to get up,” John said. “You should probably get more rest.”

  “I’ve been lying in a bed for…” Ravishan frowned.

  “Ten days,” John supplied.

  “Ten days? No wonder I want to get up and move around,” Ravishan said. He studied John’s face for a moment. “You must have thought I was never going to get up.”

  “I didn’t let myself think that,” John replied. He still felt dread at how close Ravishan had come to death. Ravishan seemed to notice John’s worry.

  “But I’m completely recovered now.” He flashed John one of his broad, arrogant smiles. John just shook his head.

  “You’re still weak,” John told him. Yesterday he’d hardly been able to stand on his own. Ravishan flexed his arms experimentally. John felt an odd shudder pass through the air. Ravishan flicked his fingers apart and the Gray Space screeched open. An arc of flame burst up along the edges as oxygen ignited. Ravishan winced and instantly snapped the Gray Space closed.

  “Maybe I’m a little weak,” Ravishan conceded with a shrug. “But withering away in a bed isn’t going to get me any stronger.” Ravishan pulled on his boots and stood. There was the slightest sway in his stance and he stilled it almost immediately. “Anyway, I want to know about this council.”

  “Really?” John asked. “You’ve developed a keen new interest in assigning people to work groups and overseeing sanitation?”

  “Wah’roa wouldn’t want you there so badly if that was all it was,” Ravishan replied. “This has to have something to do with you—with who you are.”

  John wondered if Ravishan was right. He pulled on his filthy coat.

  “Well, we’ll see,” John said at last.

  Chapter One Hundred and One

  Wah’roa offered them stuffed rolls, cold cuts, and cheese. Ravishan devoured his own food ravenously. John was happy to relinquish half of his own breakfast to Ravishan. It was such a relief to just see him eat.

  Afterwards, they followed Wah’roa out of the temple and up a slight incline to the remains of one of the watchtowers. The huge stone structure was largely undamaged, though hundreds of tiny cracks webbed through the outer walls. John ran his hand over the stone, willing the small fissures to knit closed. Several stones healed seamlessly. John’s concentration wandered and suddenly a stone split and blackened beneath his fingers.

  Ravishan looked a little alarmed. John pulled his hand back to his side.

  “So, Wah’roa,” John said quickly. “The two lower floors of the watchtower look like a barrack.”

  Wah’roa glanced back and nodded.

  “The men keep vigil in week long shifts, so they often sleep and take their meals in the watchtower. There’s a large common room as well. It’s a good place for a council meeting. I doubt many of the Fai’daum children or animals will come all this way just to barge in on us.”

  John guessed that Wah’roa had endured just about as many chaotic familial intrusions as he could stand. With the Fai’daum and other refugees living in Vundomu it was no longer the sleek military m
achine that it had once been.

  They crossed the small courtyard and entered the watchtower. The kahlirash’im standing guard bowed as they passed. Wah’roa led them to the common room on the first floor.

  A surprising number of the Fai’daum were already gathered in the chamber. John knew all of them. Saimura, Tanash, and Kansa sat together on a carved wood bench. Kansa and Tanash both watched as Saimura carved deep furrows into the surface of a large knuckle bone.

  Ji lay near their feet on an ornately woven carpet. She almost looked like she might be sleeping, but then John noticed the small book lying open between her paws.

  Pirr’tu and Tai’yu crouched near the fireplace, feeding wood into the already blazing flames. Across from them, Arren slouched in a battered chair. The firelight lent his dark skin a sick, yellow cast. He watched the flames, his expression both tired and troubled. Giryyn stood beside him, leaning against an empty chair. His head was bowed and his long priests braids cascaded over his shoulders. The group of them formed a loose half-circle around the warmth of the hearth.

  All of them looked up as John and Ravishan followed Wah’roa into the room. What conversation they might have been sharing went silent. Wah’roa pulled the door shut and then locked it.

  “The fire is a good choice,” Wah’roa said. He strode across the room to the dining table and pulled three chairs out. John helped him move them closer to the fire. Ravishan sank down into the chair nearest the fire. He leaned back in the seat and stretched his legs out. John seated himself next to him.

  Wah’roa sat on John’s left. He leaned forward in his chair and studied the gathered Fai’daum members. His gaze lingered longest on Pirr’tu, Tai’yu, and Saimura.

  “The three of you are new to me,” Wah’roa said.

  “They are Lafi’shir’s men,” Ji said. “The three of them advise him and they were with Jath’ibaye at Yah’hali and in Gisa.”

  Wah’roa obviously found this interesting, but he didn’t comment. He only asked their names and they supplied them.

  Looking at the people gathered here, John suddenly thought that Ravishan must have been right. There were too few of them with any civic skills for this meeting to address the organization of the camps in Vundomu.

  “So,” said Ji. “I promised that I would give all of you an answer about what happened here at Vundomu. Though I believe Commander Wah’roa and Ravishan already know.” She looked at the two of them. They both nodded.

  “For the rest of you, you must try to stay calm and hear me out. Some of what I have to say will be shocking and your first reactions may not be well considered. So I’m asking that you all listen to what I have to say and then take a few moments to think about it. Will you do that?”

  John suddenly realized that she was going to tell them about him. A sick panic seeped through his guts. He had to stop her. But he had no idea how he could.

  Ravishan touched his hand gently and John realized that some of his fear had to be showing. John tried to calm down, but his mind kept racing back to the afternoon he’d told his father that he was gay. He’d lost his entire family that day. Now he studied the faces of the people around him, all of them people he knew. Most of them were his friends.

  John could see the mixed expressions of curiosity and agitation on their faces. They each assured Ji that they would hear her out. Only Saimura seemed to notice John watching him. He returned John’s glance with a direct, knowing gaze. John looked down at his hands.

  “The Bousim rashan’im were not defeated by Eastern sorcery,” Ji said after a moment. “They were destroyed in a matter of minutes by the Rifter.”

  Throughout the room there was a sharp intake of breath. Pirr’tu sprang to his feet with a startled expression and then sank back down beside the hearth. Next to him, Tai’yu gripped a piece of firewood with white-knuckled intensity. Both Kansa and Giryyn stared suspiciously at Ravishan. Arren closed his eyes as if to shut out the knowledge. Tanash stared at Ji with wide eyes and an open mouth.

  “That’s not possible!” Tanash suddenly burst out.

  “I assure you that it is,” Ji replied softly. “But I haven’t finished. The Rifter has been here for far longer than any of us could have suspected. Not even the Payshmura were aware that he had crossed the worlds.”

  “The Payshmura don’t know—” Tai’yu cut himself off as he seemed to realize that he’d broken in on Ji.

  “They do not know,” Ji assured them. “He is not theirs to command. He is ours.”

  John’s cheeks flushed slightly. He felt awkward being spoken of as if he were a piece of artillery. At least Ji’s statement seemed to offer some reassurance to the other Fai’daum. Arren opened his eyes and gazed at Ji. Pirr’tu stood up again.

  “Would you stop that?” Kansa snapped.

  “I have a question,” Pirr’tu said.

  “Wait for Ji to finish,” Kansa told him.

  He opened his mouth, then closed it. He stared at Ji.

  “Go ahead and ask your question, Pirr’tu,” Ji said.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I am sure.” Ji cocked her head. “I am sure he is here and that he is not in the Payshmura’s control.”

  “But how is that possible?” Giryyn suddenly asked. “Only the Payshmura have access to the Great Gates.”

  “It is possible because it is Parfir’s divine will.” Wah’roa spoke for the first time. His tone was assured and smooth. John suddenly remembered how he had talked down the Bousim commander at the Gisa prison. “Even the most powerful mystics of the Payshmura Church cannot keep Parfir from his own kingdom. Whether it is the Great Gates or the blossoming of a flower, nothing in this world is beyond Parfir’s reach.”

  “So, Parfir brought the Rifter back to Basawar?” Kansa scowled at Ravishan as she asked. Ravishan raised his dark brows.

  “You think I did it?” Ravishan asked.

  “You were chosen as Kahlil,” Kansa said.

  “But I’m not the Kahlil. I left the church before I even received the Prayerscars,” Ravishan replied. “I never crossed to Nayeshi to find the Rifter. He crossed to Basawar and found me.”

  Kansa’s eyes flickered from Ravishan to John. Then realization lit her expression and the color drained from her face. The horror spreading through her expression was everything John had dreaded.

  “It’s you,” Kansa said.

  “Who?” Tanash demanded. She looked from Kansa’s horrified face to Ravishan’s defiant expression.

  “Oh my God!” Tanash’s eyes went wide. “Ravishan is the Rifter?” She stared in shock for a moment and then her expression melted into confusion. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Not Ravishan, you idiot,” Kansa ground out.

  “It’s Jath’ibaye,” Saimura said flatly. He frowned at Kansa. “Don’t call my sister an idiot.”

  “Jath’ibaye is the Rifter?” Tanash turned to John. She wasn’t the only one. Fear bordering on revulsion showed on the faces of almost everyone in the room as they regarded him. Only Wah’roa, Ravishan, Ji, and Saimura weren’t gaping at him. Then Tanash looked suddenly uncertain.

  “But he can’t even charm a compass stone,” Tanash protested.

  “Maybe not,” said Pirr’tu coldly. “But he tore down the Oran’dur Bridge with just a touch of his hand.”

  “And he went through the Yah’hali Prison like he was walking through smoke,” Tai’yu commented. He seemed unaware of how desperately he still gripped the piece of kindling in his hand. John couldn’t bring himself to meet their eyes.

  “So the great destroyer has crossed the worlds,” Giryyn said. Then he looked to Ji. “How long have you known?”

  “I have glimpsed Jath’ibaye in visions for longer than I have been flesh,” Ji replied. “I thought I recognized him once when we attempted to take Fikiri on the Holy Road, but I did not know for certain that he had crossed the worlds until Saimura brought him to us as an ally.”

  “And you?” Giryyn demanded of Saimura.<
br />
  “About five minutes,” Saimura replied. “I just figured it out.”

  “It doesn’t matter, Giryyn,” Arren spoke softly, his low voice suffused with defeat. “He’s here. Nothing matters now.”

  Giryyn seemed about to argue. Then a tremor passed through his body and he sank down into his seat. His hands shook against the arms of the chair. He stared at John with an almost nauseated expression.

  “He’s here,” Arren whispered and he clenched his eyes closed again.

  Both Pirr’tu and Tai’yu had gone pale. They stared at John in silence. Kansa gazed down at her empty hands and then hid her face in her palms. Saimura closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall. His expression was almost serene. Tanash looked around at her fellow Fai’daum and then back to John. Suddenly an expression of terrible apprehension came over her.

  John glanced between them, trying to understand what had just happened to them all. It was as if all the hope had suddenly drained from their bodies. Both Wah’roa and Ravishan appeared to be as confused as John.

  “No,” Tanash whispered. Tears filled her eyes and trickled down her cheeks. “No! I don’t want to die now!”

  And then John realized what all the Fai’daum members must have been thinking. He was the Rifter. His coming heralded the end of their lives and the end of all Basawar. To them, his arrival was the defeat of their world.

  “No, Tanash, I won’t—don’t cry,” John said. “I’m not here to destroy the Fai’daum. I’m not going to hurt any of you. I wouldn’t. I swear. I’m on your side.”

  Tanash gave a little gasp and more tears poured down her face. This was worse than the anger he’d expected.

  “It’s the truth,” Ji said. “Jath’ibaye is the Rifter, but he is not a tool of the Payshmura. They do not even know he is here. He is one of us.”

  It took a few seconds for Ji’s words to have an effect. Slowly the rest of the Fai’daum regained their composure. There were still traces of how badly they had been shaken. Giryyn’s hands trembled and Tai’yu still hadn’t put down the kindling he held, but a kind of dazed numbness settled over their faces. Saimura simply looked tired. John guessed that had more to do with Fenn’s death than anything he or Ji had said.