In Pain and Blood

by Aldrea Alien

  A handful of bandits bearing swords and axes poured from the bushes. Tracker rushed them, the quarterstaff tucked behind him. He swung his arm as the bandits closed around him, sweeping one off their feet and clocking another in the head. He ducked one man’s swing, driving the end of the pole into the bandit’s neck, and picked up the man’s fallen sword. The rest of them fell back pretty quickly after that.

  “Mercy!” one of them screamed, throwing down their weapon and running for the undergrowth.

  Like a giant mouser, the hound followed and the bandit fell with one swift strike.

  Tracker returned to the middle of camp, his gaze running over the fallen. “A terribly ill-balanced weapon,” he muttered, throwing the borrowed sword to one side. “That is all of them, yes?”

  Dylan stood there, clutching his now-healed side, his mouth agape. He couldn’t tear his eyes from Tracker’s half-clothed form. His heart pounded from watching the man fight, but the way the hound’s bare chest still heaved set his pulse on a completely different rhythm. “Does anyone need healing?” he finally mumbled.

  At the silence, he tore his gaze from the panting hound to the others.

  They appeared frozen in place, the majority of them staring. Katarina cocked an eyebrow at him and was definitely smirking. Marin had covered her eyes whilst Authril looked like rage incarnate.

  He turned to Tracker for some explanation to find the hound was picking through the remains of Dylan’s tent. The elf returned in a matter of moments, clutching Dylan’s undertunic.

  Dylan snatched the garment from him, suddenly painfully aware of how naked he was and… Gods… How swiftly the sight of a panting, half-naked man could arouse him. No. This wasn’t how he’d wanted this to happen. No, no, no. He was going to tell her and now… She knows. They all knew. Shit!

  Hunching his shoulders, Dylan closed his eyes and waited for their scorn.

  “Don’t feel like it?” Authril muttered, echoing words he’d spoken the last time she’d tried to initiate sex. Dylan risked a peek through his lashes to find her poisonous glare fixed on Tracker. “More like getting it from somewhere else.”

  “What can I say?” the hound replied with a shrug. “The man knows what he wants.”

  “And you were all too happy to comply, it would seem. Despite what I told you.”

  Tracker spread his hands wide. “If he comes to me wishing for something a little different, I am hardly going to turn him away.”

  A thin thread of relief eased the twisting in his gut. She was angry, rightfully so, but not at him? He hadn’t exactly been an unwilling partner in his little horizontal dance with the hound. As for the others… Shit… He wasn’t a prude. Quite a number of women had seen everything—and more men than he really cared to count—but this… Gods… This wasn’t the bathing chamber or some intimate affair. He hadn’t wanted to put everything on display. All he’d been after was a few more moments with Tracker to…

  He glared at the bodies littering their campsite. Bloody bandits. If they had just stayed away he’d be in his tent, with or without the hound. His gaze settled on the leather shelter. Oh. With the fighting and his wound, he’d completely forgotten what had become of the tent.

  Dylan plodded over the remains. Fortunately, the fire hadn’t caught completely, leaving their belongings and his clothes intact. The bedding was a little scorched, but salvageable. The same couldn’t be said for the tent, not when there was a gaping hole in one side. Maybe if they’d a pelt to patch the area. A big one.

  Tracker halted at his side. “Ah. That is a shame.” The hound grinned at Authril who’d joined them. “It would seem that you and our dear spellster shall be sharing a tent with me for the rest of the journey, yes?”

  Authril screwed up her nose and gave a loud sniff. “I don’t think so. I’m capable of sleeping next to the others. We were sharing prior to your arrival, after all. Dylan, perhaps, would be willing to share.” Her gaze flicked his way and his face grew hotter. “Very willing, it would seem.”

  Dylan buried his face in his hands. Shit. He’d only just begun to think how to broach the subject of him and Tracker. Now, with it all out in the open, he was going to have to find a way to explain why he hadn’t told her sooner.

  “The question is,” Katarina said whilst nudging one of the dead men with her boot. “Do we break camp in the dark or risk the possibility of these men having friends who will look for them?”

  “We should most certainly break camp, my dear hedgewitch,” Tracker replied. “I would even go so far as to say we should wipe all trace of our occupation and return to the roadside.”

  “At night?” Marin asked of the man. “With the moon not yet up?”

  “Katarina, our dear warrior and myself see well enough under starlight. Do not fear we will be stumbling blind.” Tracker slapped Dylan on the shoulder. “Come, dear man, you can finish getting dressed in my tent.”

  Nodding, Dylan gathered his things. At least with them on the move and remaining silent, he would have some time to figure out what he was going to tell her. This is going to be a long night.

  Dylan lay on his side, blindly staring at the wall of Tracker’s tent. Although, he supposed it was technically their tent, now. He hadn’t bothered to undress, nor even seek out the blankets after wandering through the cold night. Instead, he merely flopped onto the bedding in his boots.

  It couldn’t have taken more than a few hours for them to take down the remaining tents, leave the site and find a new place to camp. The moon certainly hadn’t made a proper appearance by then.

  Authril had insisted on resuming her watch, leaving the rest of them to return to their slumber, a choice that the other two women immediately took advantage of. He wasn’t sure where the hound had vanished to. Probably off checking no one followed them. The man had seemed very intent on hiding their passage whilst leaving their first camp.

  Or had Tracker been held up by other reasons? The world beyond these canvas walls seemed silent, that omitted a heated discussion with Authril.

  Part of him knew he should be at least attempting some degree of sleep before Authril woke him to take over the watch. If only his mind would stop racing long enough for him to settle.

  They knew. She knew. As long as they’d been ignorant of his actions, he could deny anything had happened between him and the hound. No longer. What was he supposed to do now? He rather doubted continuing as they had been was an option.

  Dylan scrunched into a ball, drawing the bedding into a pillow beneath his head, and breathed deep. The blankets smelt of the hound.

  He didn’t even know what the others thought of all this. They’d been so silent, their faces carefully neutral, whilst Authril snapped at Tracker.

  The tent flap stirred and a figure slipped through. There came the muted jingle of a belt being undone, followed by the rustle of discarded clothes. “So,” Tracker murmured as he settled on top of the blankets, his familiar warmth soaking through Dylan’s back. His hand idly caressed Dylan’s hip. “Since we are here, together, would you be open to—”

  “I’m really not in the mood for sex,” he said before the hound could finish. How could anyone still want to after what’d happened?

  “I thought that might be the case.” The hand slid higher, resettling on Dylan’s waist. “I had no intention of suggesting we continue. I was merely going to ask, since we must share this tent, if you minded… snuggling? It is so very cold and I am willing to share my warmth.”

  Dylan twisted around to lie on his back. A little platonic sharing of warmth against the chill night wasn’t something to be turned down. “Sure.”

  The hound wasted no time in pressing himself close to Dylan’s side, almost sliding on top of him.

  Heat burrowed into his skin. Dylan closed his eyes, hoping that the familiarity would lull him to sleep.

  No such luck.

  It didn’t help that something rather unforgiving dug into his hip, digging harder with each breath. He tried to a
lleviate the discomfort and found the man’s weight impossible to shift. “Track? You’re…” A tiny amount of heat crept into his cheeks. I can’t believe I’m about to say this. “You’re poking me.”

  “Oh? Hold on.” Tracker wriggled, draping more of himself over Dylan. “Let me just…” he grunted, “move my… hand.” The thing digging into his hip vanished. “Is that better?”

  He mumbled a curt affirmation. If the man didn’t move soon, he may very well wind up with the complaint of something digging into him. He really didn’t want to give an impression that could be in any way considered as contrary.

  Tracker lay still for some time, with only his harsh breath to let Dylan know the hound hadn’t fallen asleep. “I am not so good at this sort of thing, but…” The man took a deep breath that had Dylan immediately wishing the tent was light enough for him to make out the hound’s expression. “Well, you seem a little on edge over tonight’s mishap.”

  That was a gross understatement. “She wasn’t supposed to find out this way,” Dylan mumbled. Right now, she appeared to be only angry at Tracker, but soon enough, she’d come to her senses and realise that it wasn’t the hound she should be blaming for Dylan fooling around with the pair of them.

  I should’ve told her sooner. Perhaps not directly after the tower, but certainly as soon as he started regularly sharing the man’s tent. He should’ve stopped sleeping with her, too. That’s what any normal person outside the tower would’ve done.

  Tracker hummed, the vibration running through Dylan’s chest. “I will admit to some confusion. I thought you were upset they saw you naked.”

  Dylan eyed the tent flap with some consternation. “That too. It’s just…” He scratched at his neck as the words died on his tongue. “I’ve never been that exposed before, not outside the bathing chamber, anyway.” That he’d been at half-mast hadn’t exactly improved things. Clearing his throat, he let his hand fall to one side and thwack against the blankets. “I’m certain you’d prefer to sleep rather than listen to me whine.”

  “Dylan,” the hound whispered. “If there is something I can do to…?”

  “I doubt it,” he said with a shrug. He couldn’t see what the man could possibly do to help. It wasn’t as if he could avoid them for the rest of the journey. He would simply have to weather everyone knowing what he really got up to when he was meant to be sleeping.

  Tracker shifted, his warmth vanishing from Dylan’s side. In the gloom, Dylan made out the man’s silhouette leaning over him. “But there is more to it than the nakedness, yes? You are… bothered by them knowing you shared a tent with a man?”

  Dylan bit his lip. How could he explain his fears to someone who had never hidden himself, never denied what he felt for others? There’d been no shame in the tower for such acts. But whether the coupling was a man and a woman, two men or two women, the overseers still didn’t look kindly on it. Maybe if he’d been more adventurous in his younger years, this dreadful hollowness in his stomach wouldn’t be there now.

  Sighing, Tracker resumed his previous position alongside Dylan. “Is it that they know about us? Or that they know about you?”

  Dylan lay there, staring at the canvas stretched above them. Us? He’d imagined the slight lingering hiss in the way the man spoke the word, hadn’t he? There was no ‘us’. “I don’t know,” he finally managed. “Both?”

  “Do you wish to talk about it?”

  He rolled onto his side, drawing the elf into his arms. It wasn’t as if Tracker could make things worse. “And just what ‘it’ am I meant to talk about?”

  “Well, if it is their condemnation that you fear, allow me put you at ease. Katarina… Truthfully, I am unsure our dear hedgewitch understands such attraction nor does she strike me as the type to judge for it. Now Marin… Well, she prefers other women. I find it highly unlikely that she would look down on you for lying with a man. And as for our dear warrior… If she is not like us, then she is easily swayed if her actions with dear Treasure are anything to go on.”

  “I know.” Logically, there was nothing to be concerned about on that front. But logic hadn’t exactly been getting involved with his actions as of late.

  “And yet, you are ashamed.” A hand slid across his shoulders, searching in the dark. Long fingers caressed up one side of Dylan’s face. “For quite some time, I would think, for you to hide us so completely. Was the tower so… unforgiving in these matters?”

  Dylan sucked his teeth. “The tower was pretty intolerant of any relations.” Not that there weren’t plenty of couples who shunned the rules. The numerous ones who shared genders had it rather easy in finding a like-minded partner. Some of them were even fortunate to share rooms. In the past, he’d wondered what it was like to have the person of your affections always close by.

  “That… It must have been difficult for you.”

  “Not always.” The ease of keeping things distanced depended on the person he laid with. Knowing he shared a vast majority of the women’s affections with someone else helped. In fact, almost everyone there seemed to be sharing their lovers. It made things difficult for the guardians to trace.

  “What would they have done in your tower if they had caught you?”

  “They would’ve segregated myself and whomever I was caught with.” His chest squeezed at the thought. There’d been so many times where he had come so close to that fate with Nestria. “Both my guardian and theirs would maintain a constant vigilance to ensure we couldn’t see each other outside of the public areas.”

  “The world beyond your tower walls does not look upon it in the same light.”

  “I know,” he whispered. It wasn’t as if they were in Tirglas, there was no stigma in Demarn attached to the act of two people of the same gender being together. “It’s just hard to—”

  “Expel a fear decades in the making?”

  “Something like that,” he mumbled under his breath.

  Tracker grasped his hand, those long fingers linking with his. “If you would prefer, we could always go on ahead? Leave the others to make their own way?”

  “What of Katarina?” They’d already agreed that leaving the hedgewitch behind wouldn’t bode well for him upon reaching Wintervale. He needed her report to help confirm that he’d been one of the army’s leashed spellsters and not a Udynean spy.

  “Of course,” Tracker muttered. “I simply wish there was more I could do. It has been such a trivial thing to me for so long and I… Well, I hate to see you like this. There is no reason for you to go through it alone.”

  Dylan pulled the hound closer, planting a kiss on the man’s forehead. “Thank you,” he whispered. “I think I’ll be fine.” Eventually. Swallowing the idea that they’d all seen him naked would leave him blushing for a few days. As for the rest…

  He’d already wrapped his mind around the reality of finding men attractive, it couldn’t be that big a leap into accepting everyone else knew, could it? “Besides,” he said, trying to sound more light-hearted than he felt. “I think it’s you that Authril wants to skewer right now.”

  Tracker’s soft laughter shook them. “She will get over it, I am certain. We could always invite her to join us?”

  “Not unless you want to wake up dead.”

  The hound hummed. “Is that a challenge?”

  “Track…”

  Again, the elf shook with laughter, this time silently. He lifted Dylan’s hand, pressing his lips against the back. “I am joking. Why would I seek out her favour when I already have you sleeping right here? And speaking of sleep—”

  “I don’t think I can.” What sort of nightmares waited behind his eyes? Should he even bother when it would be his turn to take watch soon? How long had they been talking anyway?

  The barely felt brush of fingertips caressed Dylan’s jaw. “My dear man,” Tracker breathed. “Do you think I am blind? You have not slept well for some nights now and to use your magic in such a poor state…” Tracker wriggled out of Dylan’s arms, wrapping
his limbs around Dylan like a four-legged spider and tucking Dylan’s head against the hound’s chest. “All I ask is that you try,” he whispered, stroking Dylan’s hair. “Even if it is only for a little while. I will be right here when you wake.”

  Dylan wordlessly closed his eyes as the low hum of a lullaby vibrated through the man’s chest. Maybe with Tracker right here, the nightmares wouldn’t find him.

  ~~~

  “Dylan?” a voice whispered.

  He tried to sit up, only to find his body pinned by the hound’s weight. Craning his neck allowed him to see the tent entrance. Moonlight illuminated a figure crouched there. Authril.

  Dylan slowly extracted himself from Tracker’s grasp, carefully unwinding the hound’s legs from his own.

  Tracker stirred. His head lifted from where it was pillowed on his arm. “D—?”

  “Hush,” Dylan whispered, absent-mindedly caressing the man’s cheek. “Go back to sleep.” When he was certain the hound wouldn’t wake, he slunk out into the night air, rubbing at his arms.

  Authril had made a new fire, far smaller than the one they’d left behind. He settled beside the charred remains, hunching over the embers, and gave them a little nudge into life. The flames flickered begrudgingly. His gaze slid to the forest. The underbrush didn’t seem that thick here. Perhaps he could find enough fallen wood to build up the fire for Katarina’s time on watch.

  “So…” Authril said as she sat next to him, the soft creaks and jingles of the woman’s armour loud in the relative stillness. “Tracker, huh? I guess that explains your complete lack of interest in me these last few days?”

  Dylan winced. He had rather hoped she’d seek her blankets and give him time to think how he was going to fix his mistake. And it was his, as much as a cowardly part of him would like to shift the full blame to Tracker. The guardians always said it took two to make a bed. “It’s not as simple as that. I planned to tell you, I swear, I just—” Sighing, he ran his fingers through his hair. “I’ve never done this before.”