by Katy Winter
"I'm southern too," Mensak replied. "Are you headed for Chika?" Kher nodded. "There's a large slave caravan just come in so you'll find the place crowded." Mensak held out his hands to the blaze. "Fewer slaves like your lad these days," he observed in a neutral tone.
"I would not know," Kher said calmly. "I have not been in Chika for a long time. You have a caravan following you, you said?"
"Supplies for the warlord, yes. This is a quicker way for me to be able to scout back and advise of any obstacles in the way. By the time I take the usual route back, the caravan'll be about a day's march from Chika."
"How long before you reach the warlord?" Mensak chuckled at that.
"That's a very long haul," he said amused. "Rumour in Chika had it that he's pressing on towards Sushi now, so gods alone know when these supplies will reach him. I leave the caravan at the Dahkilan border. I'd have thought the warlord's supply lines were becoming a mite stretched."
"Do you know of any challenge to disrupt it?" asked Han quickly.
"No, none that I know of," returned Mensak, "but in the usual way of things, there'll be a response to the warlord. It's the way of all worlds where conquerors reign."
"Perhaps," muttered Han, creeping closer to the fire. Mensak looked directly at Kher, whom he thought seemed preoccupied with private musings.
"Do you go to join the warlord after going south?" he asked the haskar directly.
"Possibly," murmured Kher, his eyes, Mensak noticed, flickering to the boy and resting there. Luton was huddled in the cloak, apparently oblivious to the conversation. Mensak's glance followed Kher's.
"And this lad who can't tell he's cold?"
"He has business in Chika, then he is to be returned to his master," said Kher coldly. Mensak nodded amiably and closed his eyes.
The storm didn't abate. If anything it got steadily worse. Lus and Emil braved the raging wind to drag in more wood and it was after they'd done so, that Luton startled everyone by calmly flicking his fingers at the sodden wood. It flamed immediately, as though it had never been wet. While Kher and the warriors stared thoughtfully at him, Mensak didn't seem to notice because he was too busy preparing the meal he'd offered to make. Luton sat quietly in front of the blaze, his eyes watching the flames. When he took a tankard from Han, he nodded, but otherwise didn't move.
Mensak's stew was delicious and even Luton, who didn't eat as much as would be expected of one his age, ate with relish and went back for more. The pot was thoroughly cleaned by eager hands holding chunks of bread or biscuit. Mensak sat back from the others, a lurking smile in his green eyes. No one noticed that he really ate very little. He lounged back against the cavern wall, his legs stretched fully out and a tankard to his mouth while he watched the Churchik and especially Luton. He saw the cold look in the dark eyes and the finely etched young face, and quite unobtrusively shook his head. He then closed his eyes and to all appearances went to sleep. The hand holding the tankard let it slip gently to the floor.
The Churchik felt very relaxed, full-bellied and warm. They lounged round the fire at their ease, appreciative that should the blaze diminish Luton would absently snap his fingers at it so that it flared brightly once more. Kher looked over at Mensak and saw the big man, larger possibly than a Churchik, quietly and contentedly dozed, the broad shoulders slumped and the head a little to one side. He gave a grim smile as his gaze travelled back to Luton. He pointed to a mattress Lus had laid beside Luton, but the youth just shook his head and hunched into his cloaks, his figure trembling still with the cold. Kher stared at him, then turned away.
The haskar suddenly felt weary and began to think wistfully of rest. He thought it would make sense to order one of the warriors to stay on guard, but, glancing at them and seeing them yawn prodigiously, he wondered whether there was any point. While the wind howled on, Kher considered any intrusion into the cavern highly unlikely. It'd grown dark in the caves now. The only light was cast by the flicker of the flames. Kher yawned again, stretched out and closed his eyes, the warriors not long in following.
Only Luton stayed awake as was his custom. He kept staring at the fire until he saw Mensak hunker down opposite, the man's green eyes disturbingly penetrating. Luton looked away.
"I'm glad you survived the fever, lad, though it was rough for you. And I thank you for the food you brought me." For the first time in cycles, Luton spoke out loud without being aware of it.
"I don't know you," he stated.
"Yes, you do, young lad." The voice was very deep and gentle.
Mensak leaned across a fire that didn't touch him and Luton felt compelled to look back, his eyes drawn to the man's when Mensak gripped his chin. He knew a moment of panic as his being was swamped and he seemed to slither quickly into a void that frightened him.
He sensed he was hanging in emptiness, though nothing held him and nothing imprisoned him. He couldn't see, nor could he hear. He didn't know how he knew Mensak was with him, but though he sensed him, Luton didn't know who the man was or why he should be with him now. He heard a voice that seemed to be far distant and strained to hear, his head tilted with the effort. He had no sense of touch.
"Come to me, lad. Bring yourself from where you've been taken. You can do this if you truly want to. Come to me, Lute. I'm waiting for you, child." Luton struggled to answer, his voice weak and faint.
"I'm Lute, son of Alfar." He felt surrounded by cloying mist and impenetrable dark.
"Can you reach me, lad? Can you feel my hand?"
Luton trembled, but put out his hand tentatively. Finally, after what seemed a very long time, it contacted Mensak's, his panic subsided and he breathed easily.
"You're Lute of Ortok."
"Yes."
"You remember me from the slave caravan?"
"You saved me, but I thought you died. I lost you and cried for you."
"Yes, lad, I know you did. I couldn't stay and I'm sorry."
"Where did you go?"
"Another place, child."
"But you're safe now? No one can whip you again?"
"Yes, lad, I'm safe." The deep voice gentled to a whisper. "You survived the fever and the caravan."
"Yes."
"It was a very rough time you had, wasn't it?" Luton didn't answer. "And you were badly hurt more than once, though the haskar was kind to you. I'm so sorry I couldn't be with you to help you through those agonising days."
"I don't remember."
"Yes you do, child," said Mensak softly. "You remember all too clearly." Luton gave a cry of anguish.
"Don't make me remember!" he whispered, convulsively gripping the hand that curled around his.
"Don't be frightened, Lute. I'm with you."
"The pain," whispered Luton.
"Come with me, Lute. I'll care for you, but you must come with me so I can help for what comes. The damage cripples you, child. Let me give you the gift of strength and the beginning touch of healing so you have a greater chance of survival."
With a howl, Luton was drawn backwards into an ever-deepening void that threatened to engulf him. He felt as though he'd suffocate, physically struggled to orient himself and make sense of where he was, and the only thing that gave him comfort was the hand held in his. Darkness devoured him when he remembered what Blach did to him and he writhed, as he did the day Blach tore him apart. Blackness and emptiness gripped him as he was flung further and further back to Ortok.
When he came to where he was today, Luton knew Mensak was with him, eased his pain and offered comfort. He didn't fight Mensak's presence in his mind - he welcomed it, opening to it like a flower to the sun. Mensak touched the young damaged mind. His presence delved deeply to the core of Luton's essence, his touch so gentle Luton felt nothing, just an all-pervasive calm that suffused every part of him. There was none of the agony he'd experienced at Blach's hands. A gaping wound deep inside slowly closed as gentle fingers touched moist young lips. What was implanted, so profoundly in Luton, no one could know.
&nbs
p; Mensak stayed with Luton for a long time, touching the boy's mind carefully and with respect, his affection for the boy soaking into Luton's awareness at every level. Luton responded. The dark emptiness turned to light and there was movement all about him - he could see and he could hear. He wasn't hanging at all. He stood next to a man shrouded in luminosity, his green eyes intense. When the brightness finally began to slowly dim, the man placed an arm protectively about Luton and, with his free hand, traced symbols on the boy's lips. Luton kissed the hand that touched him.
He heard the deep, calm voice say quietly, "Come to time, Lute. Come to time." He knew he struggled to stay with the voice that offered so much comfort. It spoke again. "I'll come back to you, lad, though I wish I could ease what's to come for you. You must remember, at the right time, child. You will. It may save your life and, in doing so, also later give back life to another. I'll come for you, Lute, you must believe that. Ah, child, but she'll be so like you, lad, so very like – that's a promise we hope will one day bring you such joy and understanding. Now, be as you were, child."
Luton held out his hand as he felt the form next to him fade. It was the gesture he'd made that day, so long ago, when he was wrenched from the caravan, but this time he felt his hand held strongly as the darkness he tried to reject crowded in on him. He whimpered.
He came awake with a jolt that shook him. He was surprised he'd slept at all because he so seldom did. He looked around him uncertainly, his glance taking in the Churchik who were soundly asleep and then he noticed that Mensak was wide awake and regarded him with a smile.
"I'm glad I've found you again, lad," he murmured. Luton blinked at him and ran a hand across his face.
"You seem to think you know me."
"Aye, lad, it does seem that way, doesn't it?"
"I don't know you."
"Not yet, lad, not yet. We'll meet again." Luton stared hard at Mensak.
"I'm going south," he said abruptly, "while you're going north. Our ways don't meet."
"Aye, lad, so it seems." Mensak's deepening, gentle smile struck a chord deep within Luton and he responded with a smile that transformed him - it was for Mensak. Mensak looked into shining black eyes. "You can't speak or smile, lad, remember?" mumbled Mensak softly, closing his eyes. "But such a lovely smile, child, just like your twin brother."
Luton's eyes clouded, he hunched his shoulders and stared into the fire. By the time his eyes cleared, he couldn't speak and he didn't smile either. He was Blach's slave and he was a mute. Fully conscious of his surroundings, Luton noticed the green-eyed man was as deeply asleep as the Churchik.
~~~
Luton went outside very early. Since he slept so little he became restless without direct orders of what he was to do. The rain had eased, the wind had well-nigh blown itself out and though the sky was still ominously grey, the clouds were high and the severity of chill was alleviated. Though he shivered, Luton wasn't physically aware of any bite to the air.
He wandered aimlessly around, picking up pieces of wood that he threw on the fire before going outside to gather more. When he came in the second time, he saw Mensak regarding him and nodded a cool welcome in response to Mensak's greeting.
"Good morning, young one." Luton pointed to the Churchik and shrugged. "Not awake yet? Never mind, let them sleep. You have a long ride ahead of you." Luton stooped then straightened with two tankards in his hands, his look at Mensak an enquiring one. "Aye, lad, I'd like to eat and drink before I go."
Luton filled both tankards and after giving one to Mensak, he searched through saddlebags until he found bread, sliced meat and fruit, and randomly piled a selection onto a small platter. He brought it back to the fire where he crouched beside Mensak companionably. Mensak made two piles of food from the plate, then pointed at Luton.
"Eat, lad," he directed. "You're very slight for such a large-framed young one, aren't you?" Luton shrugged again, but took the food and ate it. "Kher tells me you go to Chika." Luton nodded, his mouth full. "And you answer to Luton." Surprise crept into the steely eyes, as well as uncertainty. Luton nodded again. "I thought that was what they called you, lad. Not a southern name that, is it? Are you from up north?" Again came the indifferent shrug. "Since you're a slave, that's possible, isn't it?"
Luton's head bent and because it stayed down, Mensak said no more. He finished his food and rose. Luton shouldn't have shown either surprise or uncertainty, two unexpected responses Malekim would have adversely reacted to. At that moment Kher opened his eyes, yawned, got unsteadily to his feet and approached the fire. Luton ignored him.
"You rise early, Mensak?" It was a question more than a statement.
"Aye, no point in having a rover who doesn't do his work," Mensak replied easily. "I'm on my way again." He looked long and hard at Kher. "I thank you for your hospitality. It won't be forgotten."
"You are welcome," said Kher, a mite curtly. "We thank you for your food too."
He watched Luton's head come up, his dark eyes fixed to Mensak's face. Mensak smiled at him.
"Maybe, lad, I'll meet you again." Luton still stared up at him, his expression unreadable.
Kher frowned at the sudden lack of assurance that'd characterised Luton up to this point and he noticed, too, the rare flicker of emotion that faintly registered on the young face. He watched Mensak put a large and firm hand on Luton's shoulder, noticed there was no chilly flinch back and looked harder at Mensak, but saw nothing other than paternal geniality. Mensak moved swiftly from the cave, leaving Luton staring once more into the fire.
Every day that they travelled further south, Luton wandered off on his own, his essence craving to be as one with his surroundings. If they passed near water, Luton was drawn to it - whatever it was. He liked to lie on open ground and stare up at the sky, its faintly yellowish tinge seeming to fascinate him. Had he remembered, Luton would've always been intrigued by the change in the colour of the sky that depended on where in Ambros one was.
He made no demands and Mensak passed from his mind very quickly. His relationship with the warriors remained cool but cooperative and he was definitely more responsive to Kher. The Churchik learned to accept him as he now was and Luton rapidly did the same. When he often spurred his horse to be alone or else let his horse fall back, Kher thought the youth looked peaceful in solitude and what made the haskar smile was the burgeoning growth they all saw on the young chin and cheeks. When Luton absently scratched at it, Kher's smile deepened. Once they reached Chika there was the faintest trace of a beard on the young face.
~~~
Chika was a large city-state, one of the larger ones in the deep south, sprawling and not overly clean, its Saratquan long gone north to the warlord. Only one gate was open at the time of day the travellers arrived. Kher spurred his horse forward to meet the warrior guard who rode out to meet him. After a brief exchange of words, Kher turned back to signal his men and Luton forward.
Once Luton would've been terrified because the city crawled with huge Churchik in every direction, but now he merely looked on, absorbed all he saw and forgot the bothersome rain that began some time before. Normally Kher would bed at the palace, but this time he rode ahead from street to street in quite a different direction from the palace.
Finally, Kher drew up his horse at a very large and opulent inn and swung himself to the ground, just as the door opened to reveal another Churchik standing in the light of the inn lamp. The street was quiet and clean.
"My lord?"
"Flek," said Kher, in a tone of profound relief. "Please have the horses attended to. Do you have rooms for us as arranged?"
"Yes, my lord," bowed Flek, standing back and waiting for the warriors and Luton to dismount. At a flick from his fingers, a young slave boy shot out to take all the reins.
The bar room was full, but Luton noticed that wherever Kher strode there was suddenly space. Kher found a table and signalled to the others to sit. Luton pulled back the hood of his cloak and sat nearest the fire, still and pass
ively waiting. Flek brought them tankards and they relaxed back after a long ride and living rough, but, though relaxed, Kher's eyes roved the room restlessly.
Luton had a small and comfortable room with a window. When he was left there, he threw his cloak carelessly over a chair and crossed to the window, but since it was dark and murky and showed him nothing, Luton crossed to the bed and flung himself onto it, his hands under his head. He just lay there, musing.
Late meal was a silent affair. Many patrons had left, with only guests and regulars present. Kher was preoccupied, Luton was remote and the other warriors were disinclined to converse either. As soon as the food was eaten, Kher rose and suggested they all retire. Luton acquiesced.
CHAPTER TEN
Bethel lounged in the tub, mind and body weary but satisfied. It was several days since the warrior trials and the commitment ceremony was today. He sank lower in the water and closed his eyes. When he opened them, he saw Jane laying clean clothes on his bed, ready.
"Jane?"
"Aye?" Jane looked up with a smile.
"I am grateful for all you have done for me," Bethel said simply, idly splashing himself. Jane laughed, crossed to the tub and flicked water in Bethel's face.
"Aye, lad, I know. Now come on out of there. You need to get dressed for your oath to the warlord."
Reluctantly, Bethel hauled himself from the tub and took the cloth Jane held out to him, firmly wrapping it about his waist. The worst damp from his hair, he dried himself cautiously, aware of cuts and gashes. He looked up at a movement at the pavilion entrance and squinted to see who it was. He recognised a healer.
"Jane asked me to come to you, boy," said the healer, advancing on Bethel. Bethel sighed and nodded.
"Some of the cuts still bleed a bit," he said tiredly.
"Then," suggested the healer quietly, "lie down and let me examine you."
Bethel limped to the bed and sank down, barely conscious the healer removed the cloth from about his waist. He bit his lips once or twice as the healer dealt with him, but otherwise let himself drift. His mind was far from where he was. He wistfully thought of Sarehl and Ortok and how much his life had changed. He wondered who, if anyone, he might've stood with at Choice as spring advanced on what was his home, and a wave of desperate, unexpected homesickness swept over him and gripped him until he forced it away.
