by Xenia Melzer
Lost for words, Daran touched his owners’ hands. He knew exactly how they felt and the reason for it. The problem was, he didn’t know what to feel, or what he was supposed to feel. This confusion prevented them from returning to their old ways. It took all Daran’s self-control not to shy away from their touch and to bear their expectations when they went to bed together. Until now the warriors had refrained from seducing him in an attempt to give him some breathing space. But it was only a matter of time before they decided to tackle the problem in a more direct manner.
And part of him yearned to become intimate with them again, to leave all the bad memories behind. Yet another, persistent voice reminded him constantly that he was sullied and unworthy. Thinking that the two could find traces of those other men on his body made him break out in cold sweat.
What was even worse was the new face he had discovered on them. Until now he had seen the desert warriors as his benefactors, as the men who had saved him from a sad, undesirable existence. The sisters had shown Daran in the cruelest manner that Aegid and Kalad possessed a second, far less friendly face. It made him wonder if this wasn’t their true nature—and if he would be able to accept it. Because even though the sisters were twisted and evil, he could understand why they had acted as they did, what had made them so utterly despicable. Imagining the kind of power the desert brothers had over normal people, people like him, made him shudder. What this revelation meant for his relationship with the gods was something Daran didn’t want to think about yet.
Two days after they returned to the Valley, Lukan and Elua had arrived with the caravan and almost thirty prisoners. Among them, Daran recognized the man who had dealt him the killing blow. Being confronted with the direct cause of all his misery had made him sick to his stomach. For the time being, the prisoners had been brought to the dungeons while a furious Wolf of War contemplated how to kill them in the most gruesome way possible. Seeing his lord and god so enraged only added to Daran’s inner confusion, since his ineptitude was the reason for it. The Wolf of War had given Daran to understand he was willing to give him some breathing space, but he also expected him to make up his mind in the near future. Kalad and Aegid had already demanded to be put in charge of punishing his kidnapper, the pimps, and the two sisters. As far as Daran knew, they were still arguing with Canubis about who would be allowed to send them off. It was infuriating. Touching as well, he had to admit, but mostly infuriating.
Alone and confused, the first Echend’dim stared into the dark.
“DARAN! IF you’re not up for training, just say so and stop fooling around!”
Casto’s voice had the certain aggressive undertone that showed he had not yet brought himself to getting seriously angry, but he was well on his way. Daran hurried to get off Rajan. The last thing he wanted right now was a fight with his god’s heart.
“I’m sorry, Casto. I wasn’t concentrating.”
“I figured as much, idiot. I wonder why. It’s been a week since we got you back, and you don’t seem to be as fine as you said you are.”
The words hung in the air like a threat, reminding Daran how foolish it was to underestimate King Castolus. Suddenly determined to talk to somebody about his doubts, he met the blond’s gaze full-on. His hands were buried in Rajan’s mane, as if the warmth coming from the gelding could protect him somehow.
“Nothing’s fine, but you already know that. I’m having nightmares. Terrible nightmares. I’m trapped in that place again, chained, unable to free myself. I can hear their laughter, their ridicule. I can feel the knives cutting through me. I see the iron bar crashing down on my face. But it’s not the sister or the pimps doing that to me. It’s Aegid and Kalad.”
Daran choked. Tears streamed down his face while his hands dug into the soft mane of his ride, trying to anchor himself somehow.
“They’re doing this to me. And I know how utterly absurd that is. Still, I’m terrified of them. So terrified.”
A warm hand touched his shoulder. With a gentleness few would have thought him capable of, Casto embraced the Echend’dim.
“It’s fine, Daran. It’s fine. Whatever you feel, let it be. Stare your fear and sorrow right in the face, and then let both of them go so you can think clearly again.”
As if these words had broken a dam, Daran started crying. Raw, throaty sobs forced their way out, proof of a despair so terrible it had the power to break the thief. It took a long time until he calmed down again. Slightly embarrassed, he freed himself from Casto’s embrace.
“This is beyond awkward. Please forgive me.”
With his forefinger, Casto swept a tear from Daran’s cheek. “Don’t worry. You’ve been through a lot. I can understand how difficult it must be.”
Daran grabbed his trainer’s wrists, desperate to get some assurance. “How do you deal with it? With the violence, all the things Lord Renaldo has done?”
Casto sighed. This was getting ugly, and it was only the start. “Easier than you might think. Don’t forget, I was raised to be a king. To me, the actions of the Barbarian and his brother are legitimate. It helps confirm their claim to power.”
“So what you’re trying to tell me is that it’s fine?”
“No. I’m just stating how much I can relate to their actions—and that I would most probably do the same if I were in their place.”
“You don’t give a damn about the fate of the innocent, do you?”
Even to his own ears, Daran sounded overly aggressive. Nobody had to explain to him that in the eyes of Casto, his gods, and even his masters, he was part of the faceless masses whose well-being was of no further interest.
The clear blue eyes in which one could get lost so easily now lit up dangerously. Casto had never been one to suffer critique lightly, and the Echend’dim was probing a sore spot. Legitimizing one’s actions to oneself was probably the hardest trial every leader had to face. To Casto, Daran’s doubts were like echoes of his own sometimes treacherous thoughts.
“Nobody is truly innocent. There’s a beast slumbering in every one of us. Just look at your stepfather or the sisters. Canubis and Renaldo do what is necessary. That’s not always nice, not always comfortable, but it’s their prerogative and their duty. The same goes for Aegid and Kalad. They have always been like that. You just refused to acknowledge it because there was no room for reality in the perfect little world you had built. You’ve created an image of the two that was disconnected from reality, and now that it has shattered, you’re looking for someone to blame. But I’ve got news for you, Daran. You’re like them—like us. The moment you fell in love with them and they chose you, you became special. You’re nothing like Egand or the sisters. You’re a chosen one, an Echend’dim. Get to terms with it and stop feeling guilty about things you can’t change.”
Taken aback by this outburst, Daran retreated a little from the king. He knew Casto was right, that his insecurity and fear stemmed mainly from his denial of the truth. Unfortunately this insight didn’t make it any easier to face reality.
“I’ll have to think about this, Casto. It would be very nice of you if we could cancel today’s training session.”
His trainer nodded. “As you wish, Daran. Get in the saddle and enjoy some fresh air. I’m sure you’ll feel better afterwards.”
Grateful, Daran did as he had been told. After one last reassuring glance at Casto, he steered Rajan into the Valley.
“WHAT’S THE matter with you, Casto? You look like an entire month’s worth of rain!”
Lovingly, Renaldo embraced his mate and pressed a kiss on his temple. Casto put up with the gesture, a sure sign that whatever had happened this day had truly rattled him.
“I had a talk with Daran. He’s not doing well.”
The Angel of Death stopped kissing Casto’s skin. Tension filled the air.
“I know. Has he confided in you? That would be a step forward, at least.”
Casto’s gaze darkened. “He did confide in me. But my advice was probably not suite
d to push him into the direction you might favor.”
Renaldo pulled his heart down on one of the lounges, reached for a cup of wine, and held it to Casto’s lips. While the king took a few sips, the Angel of Death reveled in the fact that they were so intimate. After rescuing Daran, they had had a major fight about whether Casto was allowed to go for a run with Lys or not. Two lounges, a set of heavy brocade curtains, and the door leading to the spare chamber had been the collateral in this heated argument. And the heated part had been literal.
“So what did you tell him to do?”
“I didn’t tell him to do anything. I just explained to him how we all have a beast slumbering inside us. And that I can understand your actions. I can’t say he liked it.”
Renaldo rested his chin on Casto’s head. He had seen this happen before; it was a fairly normal development when somebody who hadn’t been trained to execute power suddenly found him or herself in a position where they had to. The doubts, the fears, the insecurities, they all simmered inside before they eventually boiled over. Only then did one find out whether they were truly suited for leadership, or if they had better stay part of the ranks. In Daran’s case, the sudden immortality complicated the situation even more, and he and Canubis certainly didn’t want their first Echend’dim to make the wrong decision.
“Daran is going through some hard times at the moment. Being kidnapped and killed hasn’t made it any easier.” Renaldo emptied the wine in one go.
“It’s normal for a young man to experience periods of doubt in his life, but Daran has to face it all at once. My brother and I are trying to come to terms with the fact that we may lose our first Echend’dim.”
Shock written all over his face, Casto reared up. “Are you going to banish him?”
Renaldo caressed the wheat-blond hair soothingly.
“Of course not. Daran is the prize the Mothers have promised Aegid and Kalad for their loyalty. We could never take him from them. But sometime soon, Daran will have to decide whether he wants to stay a warrior or become a slave again. Canubis already told him that he is willing to accept whichever he chooses, although he’d prefer keeping Daran as a fighter.”
Casto leaned against the Barbarian’s chest. “What about Aegid and Kalad? I’ve barely seen them since we got back. Are they as relaxed as you are?”
“We haven’t talked in great detail, since they’re too busy worrying about Daran, but their first priority is the thief himself. They don’t really care what he is as long as he stays with them. Of course, his decision is going to shape their future relationship, but those are the consequences they’ll have to live with.”
“Sounds pretty cold to me.” Lost in thought, Casto started playing with Renaldo’s fingers. “Why did this have to happen now, of all times? Only a few more months and Daran would have embraced his new status wholly.”
“I’ve been thinking the same thing. Perhaps what has happened was in our favor. If he chooses us after everything he’s gone through and leaves his doubts behind, then we have an unbelievably strong general under our command.”
“And if he chooses against you?”
“Then somebody else and better suited will come to take the post. The Mothers may have left us, but that doesn’t mean they’re not still looking after us in the small detail.” Renaldo grinned broadly. “And we do know how heavily the small detail can influence the big picture.”
Casto turned around and kissed his mate passionately.
“What was that for? Not that I’m complaining.”
“To keep you from ranting on. If you had become even more insightful, I may have had to throw up.”
“You little bastard! I’ll make you pay for this!”
Laughing, Renaldo picked the protesting Casto up and carried him to the bed.
MEANWHILE, DARAN roamed the Valley aimlessly. Rajan had taken the lead so his rider could concentrate on the emotional chaos in his head. The decision he was about to make had the potential to change his life as radically as the one he had made a few years ago when Aegid and Kalad had taken him as their slave. And time was running out. For the time being, his masters had been quite patient, one of the reasons he didn’t want to test their forbearance more than strictly necessary. Moreover, Canubis would want to know when his first Echend’dim reached the conclusion that he wasn’t able to serve him wholeheartedly.
Daran shuddered in the face of his dilemma. If he decided to remain a warrior, then he would turn into someone who could create monsters like the sisters with his actions. He would be doing things that made his stomach churn just thinking about them. But the worst thing was, if he fought for the gods long enough, there would inevitably come a point when the monstrous nature of his deeds wouldn’t faze him anymore. Losing what he had been was hard, even though it had never been that great.
If, on the other hand, he chose to become a slave again, he could keep on ignoring reality. Aegid and Kalad would protect and pamper him like they had done until now; he would be living in bliss for all eternity. On the downside, he would remain helpless, unable to stand by their side during battle, damned to be an onlooker forever.
The two paths offered to him were so different, each of them frightening in its own way, that he simply couldn’t make up his mind. Staying in this precarious in-between would only make him suffer more. He had to find his place, and he had to do it now. Daran grabbed the reins tighter, resolved to put an end to his own pathetic indecisiveness.
It was already late in the afternoon when he marched from the stables to the dungeons. The guard let him pass without hesitation or comment; they had already accepted him as one of the lords.
Canubis still hadn’t decided when and how to punish those who had dared to lay their filthy hands on his possessions more or less right on his doorstep. The dreadful waiting, not knowing what was going to happen to them, was, in Daran’s eyes, the most brutal part of the gods’ revenge. Except for Elgir and the two pimps, no one had been tortured, mainly because the highwaymen had no information the Wolf of War deemed worth finding out about. Daran’s kidnapper was an entirely different case. By now he had told the divine brothers everything about his connections to the worshippers of the Good Mother in the East and how he had managed to conceal his trail so effectively. So far there weren’t any more details about the depth of Elgir’s sacrilege, but everybody in the Valley knew that Canubis was now eyeing the Eastern kingdoms with the thirst for revenge in his heart.
Daran passed the cells in which the highwaymen were kept without sparing them a glance. Those men had fought against him in battle, even killed him, yet he couldn’t bring himself to feel anything but indifference toward them. In front of the cell where Elgir and the pimps were kept, he hesitated for a moment. They reminded him too much of Egand to deserve more than his contempt. Behind the last door, the sisters were chained to the wall. Daran took a deep breath, and then he entered the gloomy room.
He had been to the dungeons once before, shortly after Aegid and Kalad had brought him to the Valley. It had been part of their strategy of carrot and whip to show him where he would end up should he displease them. Of course, it had never been necessary, especially not back then when his heart had been overflowing with admiration and the first tender buds of an ever-growing love. Most of what Daran remembered about this forsaken place were flash images. The rattling of a chain, the soot from the flickering torches staining the stone wall black, the chill coming up from the floor, seeking its way into his body even through the sturdy leather boots, the despair permeating every corner, oppressing any happy thought that might dare to arise. And above it all, like a king of terror reigning over an army of abhorrent slaves, was the smell. The metallic tang of blood mixed with all kinds of bodily fluids, unwashed skin, moldering clothes, wet leather, and a generous dose of rusting steel.
Going to the dungeons, no matter if it was as a free man or a prisoner, meant entering a different world, one that had seemingly nothing to do with the Valley. It was like set
ting foot into uncharted territory, where anything could happen, where the beasts roamed freely. Down here, everybody changed.
The first Echend’dim stared at the two women who were chained against the far wall of the cell. It was hard to discern details in the gloom, but he thought they seemed more fragile than when they had tortured him so cruelly. Back then they had been dangerous predators; now they looked beaten. Only the aura of utter madness remained the same, fueling their eyes with a feverish glance that betrayed the sorry appearance of their bodies. They were staring back at him, oozing hostility.
Daran stepped a little closer, regarding them intently. Nobody had thought of giving the females new clothes, so they were still dressed in the silken gowns drenched with his blood. Seeing the proof of his suffering made him heave. His body tingled unpleasantly in all the places they had hurt him, and his heart beat frantically. Unconsciously Daran reached for his chest, to the place where they had cut him open. It had been an even greater violation than being raped. Being treated like nothing but an object, his flesh the means for release, his sole purpose to suffer as badly as possible—it had left wounds in Daran’s soul he only acknowledged now.
A soft chuckle pried him from his tumultuous musings. The elder of the two sisters glared at him with a mixture of disdain and mockery.
“Seems like the little beauty can’t get enough of us. Come on, unchain us and we’ll play with you the entire night.”
“I have no inclination to ever let you play again with anybody. You are nothing but monsters.”
“Hardly any worse than you, pretty face. Tell me, how many have you killed for them? How many people’s lives have you made miserable because they ordered you to?”
“Not as many as you think. I’m new to this. Not long ago, I was nothing more than a slave in the Pack.”
The younger sister stirred. Slowly her head came up, revealing a face contorted in hatred.
