maderr | Chaos 5 & 6

Five

Sasha slowed to a stop at the entrance to the little village, shaking his head as Stefan bolted across to a house that was clearly of some importance to mark by its size and location in the center of the small circle of houses.

He ignored the looks the sentry gave him, as well as those of a couple of women walking huddled together, baskets in their hands. Turning away, he stroked the nose of his horse – Chestno, a very faithful coal-black mare. She’d stuck with him even through the Jagged Mountains, and through his first battle with a Sentinel. If he had a friend at all, it was Chestno. Murmuring quietly, he waited patiently for Stefan to return.

Hopefully they would allow him a day or so to rest before they encouraged him to be on his way. He deserved a night just for putting up with the spats between Stefan and Killian. Gods above, had he been that argumentative and jealous and possessive at that age?

Sadly, the answer was yes. Boys were always boys, after all. Though even at that age, he’d learned there were better ways to fight than with fists and careless words. No…his words had ever been far from careless.

He shoved the errant thoughts aside. He was done with the past. There was no point in thinking of any future beyond ‘Kill Great Sentinels, Holy Sentinel, and Teufel.' The present was all that mattered now.

More and more people came to stand on the stoops of their houses as word spread of his presence. Sasha was torn between impatience and amusement – but he had to remember no one in Schatten had seen or heard from the rest of the world for hundreds of years. Back home he might be unremarkable, but here…it would be flattering if he didn’t know it was just because of his sheer oddity. He’d often considered dying his hair for the length of his time in Schatten, but in the end it was just too much work.

Thankfully, Stefan came bolting back toward him a couple of minutes later – Killian unsurprisingly absent. "The Chief says he’d love to meet you," Stefan said, stopping just short of crashing into him, breath clouding in the air, a bright smile on his face. "This way, I’ll show you where to put your horse."

Obediently Sasha followed, wishing ruefully he had the energy to bounce around after a hard day’s travel – even with the chaos ring, he could not compete with youth. Shaking his head in amusement, he led Chestno into the stable and stall Stefan indicated, then went about taking care of her.

All the while Stefan all but vibrated, shifting impatiently and wandering the stable, trying to stay out of the way but not quite able to do that and be still. Sasha chuckled softly and gave Chestno one last pat before he let her be. "Thank you," he said.

Stefan nodded absently and turned away. "This way, there’s stew ready and fresh bread and the Chief sounded really interested in meeting you…"

"I bet…" Sasha murmured as he followed Stefan into the house at the center of the village – and how vastly amusing that so many people suddenly needed firewood or to speak with their neighbors on some urgent matter.

"Reimund!" Stefan called in greeting, and five people looked up at the sound of his voice.

Sasha glanced briefly at Killian – the few minutes in friendly company had not improved his sour demeanor, and Sasha wondered tiredly how much poisonous seed he’d sown in the minutes that Stefan had been absent. The others he didn’t recognize, though the pale, sickly woman by the fire was likely the ill Maja, the broad, wide man of roughly fifty years or so standing over her rocking chair probably Reimund…a man who looked much like him sat at the nearby table, probably a son. The last, a small woman but with the lines that only hard labor could bring, did not resemble the others but had the feel of an old friend or some such.

Killian crouched beside Maja, holding her hand and turning a far kinder expression to her than Sasha had imagined the boy capable of making.

Bowing his head, Sasha waited for them to speak – no one had bothered to teach him etiquette before sending him off, and he highly doubted anyone would be impressed by the manners he did know.

"You are…as strange looking as they said," the man Sasha presumed was Reimund said slowly. "From where do you come, stranger? Lord Teufel does not permit interlopers."

Sasha barely repressed a snort. "Yes, I have encountered his watchdogs. They do not impress me."

Reimund frowned. "Is it true what they say, then? That you killed not only an adult Sentinel but also one of the Great Sentinels?"

"Quite true," Sasha replied calmly. "It took some practice, after I first arrived, but after I killed the first two it became much easier."

"How many Sentinels have you killed?" Reimund asked, though his tone said it was really more of a demand – an edge had come into his voice, one Sasha had been expecting. It was the beginning of what could and probably would become panic and fear. These people were used to the terror in which they lived. Far more terrifying to them was defiance, and living without the clouds and barriers that hid them from the world – even if they didn’t realize it.

Telling them the truth wouldn’t help matters. "Several," Sasha replied.

"Why?" demanded the woman at the table.

If there was one thing he had in abundance, it was patience – people often thought otherwise, because they did not pay attention, but Sasha had patience and it was a trait he had honed and refined. It had, once, helped to make him the best. "They are a threat. I am capable of killing them. That is all there is to it."

"Stupid for a stranger to come here and kill Sentinels – Lord Teufel’s wrath will fall upon you eventually. I am astonished it has not already."

Sasha barely suppressed a snort, and said nothing. It was one thing to be bold in his word choice in front of a couple of boys – another in front of a village Chief and two women. There was no point in jolting these people, not yet.

"Why is everyone being so rude?" Stefan demanded when they fell silent. "He saved me and Killian from an adult Sent – that doesn’t deserve rudeness!"

Reimund grunted. "You should have been paying more attention, Stefan. We raised you better than that."

"The lad is right," Maja said softly, obviously not capable of speaking any louder. "We are being rude. He saved these fool boys; at the very least he has earned some manners. Come in, sir, sit down and have something to eat. Please."

Sasha bowed his head again and finally stepped away from the door. "Thank you, my lady."

Maja blinked, then broke into a smile that made her look years younger. "My lady! Ha! A charmer, I see. Stefan has been singing your praises, sir. Would you like some stew? It is not much…"

"My lady, it smells like the grandest of feasts, I assure you," Sasha replied, meaning it. He barely kept himself from seeing how much of it he could swallow at once when the woman at the table handed him a bowl of stew and a hunk of soft, dark bread.

"What is your name, stranger?"

"Sasha," he replied briefly, wondering why the man asked – Stefan no doubt had said. Perhaps some point of etiquette, though in every other country it was considered rude not to introduce yourself before demanding another’s name.

He glanced briefly at Stefan as the boy sat down beside him before the fireplace.

"Stefan here says you have come to see if we can’t fix your map."

"Yes," Sasha replied, reluctant to stop eating in favor of repeating what had clearly already been discussed. "The map I have is woefully out of date, and Stefan said that a man here could update it for me. I am more than willing, and capable, of paying for the time and effort. Any assistance would be most appreciated."

Reimund merely eyed him. "Why would a stranger need or even want a map? What is your purpose here? No one has ever come to Schatten – it is forbidden by Lord Teufel."

Sasha barely bit back saying that if Teufel wanted to kick him out, he was more than welcome to come and try. The more he head of this Teufel, the less impressed he was. What was there to be impressed by in a god who used fear and hate to rule his people? A god who should not even be ruling, who had taken the place of the fallen Licht. No, Sasha wasn’t impressed in the slightest. "That is my business, and I assure you that the less you know of it the happier you will be. If my presence here disturbs you, as I’m sure it must, then I will thank you for the food and be on my way."

"You can’t go," Stefan blurted. "I mean – I said we’d help you. I’ll help you. I saw you kill those Sentinels, and I know how awful they are." He glared at the others, who wavered between aggravation and affection. Then his face suddenly brightened. "I could take you to the Peak! Then you can see for yourself where—"

"No," Reimund interrupted sternly. "Stefan, you will be silent."

"Yes, sir," Stefan said, obviously wanting very much to argue.

"We are being rude," Maja said before her husband could speak. "My name is Maja. This is my husband Reimund, and as I’m sure you already know this is our village. Oak Hill is named for the oak trees that grow around it. This is my old friend Frieda; she’s taking care of me since I was clumsy enough to be bitten by a newborn. The strapping man there is my son, Reiner. You are most welcome to stay the night, Master Sasha—"

"Please, Sasha is fine. I am no master."

Maja nodded, movements elegant despite the slowness caused by her illness. "As I said, please stay the night. I’m certain you are tired, both from traveling and traveling with Stefan and Killian. We try to keep them busy to wear out all that energy, but youth…such an endless supply of it." She chuckled softly, harder when Killian and Stefan both glared.

Sasha laughed with her. "If you and your husband truly do not mind, my lady, I would gladly accept that offer. I have missed real houses, and your home is quite warm and inviting…"

"Thank you," Maja said with another of her bright smiles. "Where should we put you? I wonder…"

"Maja—" Reimund started.

"Mother!" Reiner said at the same time.

She shushed them both with a motion and a look.

Sasha barely smothered a laugh. Even sick, it was obvious who ruled the house. It did not surprise him.

"Stefan, you have plenty of room. He can sleep with you – if you are all right with that, Sasha."

"I am grateful for all that you offer, my lady," Sasha replied, though inside he felt something very much like panic. He devoutly hoped ‘sleep with you’ meant in the same room but otherwise very far apart. Not that he would give in to such temptation, but it would make sleeping awkward at the very least, and for just one night he would like to enjoy a few hours of real rest.

"We will let the men discuss it all tomorrow, as they like to do, and in the mean time we will thank you properly for saving these foolish boys from their own carelessness."

"Thank you, my lady," Sasha said, and finished his food while the men of the household staunchly defended themselves – to no avail. They subsided into a grumbling silence a few minutes later and obediently went about fulfilling the orders Maja handed out.

She smiled at him. "Would you like more to eat?"

The entire stewpot sounded like a fine idea, but Sasha restrained himself. "No, thank you. It was delicious. I thank you."

"If you would like a wash – that Stefan and Killian are in desperate need of and will be getting – then I have sent Reiner to warm the bathhouse. You may go whenever you are ready."

Sasha smiled, unable to resist the gentle but commanding tone that made him truly homesick for the first time. "I would love a chance to clean up."

"Everything you need should be there – if it lacks, send Stefan or Killian to fetch it for you. Boys, get a move on."

Even Killian did not do more than grimace as he stood up and strode to the door – not waiting for Sasha or Stefan, so clearly he would not be softening that attitude of his anytime soon.

Not that Sasha particularly cared; he would be gone in a day or so and the friendship would revert after a few angry words, perhaps a few punches. Strange, though, that they were so close when Stefan was on the verge of adulthood and Killian still so glaringly a child. Perhaps they were the closest in age…and Stefan had mentioned they were both orphans.

Well, it was nothing for him to ponder. He wasn’t sure why he did. Shrugging mentally at himself, putting it up to exhaustion, he followed Stefan to a large house not far from the Chief’s.

Inside was a public bathhouse similar to those back home – a small front area to store clothes and all, then a large space beyond the next set of doors where everyone scrubbed and cleaned. Another set of doors most likely led to a large bath for soaking.

Soap. Hot water. A chance to shave with both. Such simple things should not excite him as much as they did, but Sasha had not been this pleased about killing the Great Sentinels. Ignoring the other two, who had fallen into yet another squabble – he could tell Killian had started it – Sasha stripped and bundled up his filthy clothes. He had relatively clean clothes in the pack he’d remembered to bring here with him; those would have to suffice and they were certainly better than what he’d been wearing.

Distantly he noted the squabbling had stopped, but Sasha paid them no mind. Tearing the leather thong from his hair, throwing it on the pile of clothes, Sasha strode through the doors and into the washing room.

Buckets of water were set out, along with rough soap – and shaving implements. Sighing in contentment, barely noticing when Stefan and Killian both finally appeared – though he did notice from the corner of his eye the way Stefan briefly faltered – Sasha set to cleaning himself with a vengeance, scrubbing until his skin was red and his hair did not feel as though it would soon provide a nest for critters. Then he began to shave, relishing the feel of a sharp edge against his skin, clearing it of the aggravating facial hair.

When he finally finished, he rubbed his rough hands over his smooth cheeks, luxuriating in the feel – it would not last long, a pity.

Around him the bath house had gone completely silent as Stefan and Killian fell into their own thoughts, coming up only to occasionally glare at each other. Sasha rolled his eyes as he left the washing room to pass through the second set of doors to a moderately sized tub filled with steaming water.

Sliding into it, raking his overlong hair – what were the chances of getting one of the women to properly cut it, he idly wondered – over his shoulder before closing his eyes and settling back with a contented sigh. Oh, yes. If saving careless idiots from Sents got him this, he would gladly make a habit of it.

Though he might have to retract that thought pending sleeping arrangements.

"I’m sorry my family was so rude," Stefan said quietly into the silence.

Sasha slowly opened his eyes, wholly resenting having to do so. "There is nothing which requires apology. I am a stranger in a place where strangers are apparently killed immediately. They are merely being cautious."

"Exactly," Killian said, though he looked displeased to be agreeing with the man he’d decided was his enemy. "Those who associate with the enemies of Lord Teufel risk bringing his wrath down upon them as well. It would be better if you left."

"Hmm…" Sasha said idly. "Listen to a temperamental boy or to the village Chief? I do wonder which I should do, it’s quite the puzzle."

Killian said nothing, merely glared mutinously and sank into the water up to his neck.

Sasha closed his eyes and leaned back again. He sat up again at the sound of the outer doors opening and closing.

"That’s just Reiner bringing you a change of clothes," Stefan explained. "Some of his old stuff should fit you, though you’re much skinnier than any Schatten."

"Even for my homeland, I am thin," Sasha replied. "I will have to thank him for the lending of his clothes. Mine are all in a sorry state and I was not looking forward to wearing them."

Stefan laughed. "I don’t know how you did it, but you’ve got Maja completely starry for you." He ignored Killian contemptuous snort. "I bet tomorrow she’ll probably insist on washing all of your clothes."

"That would be appreciated. I hope she will let me offer compensation."

"She will," Stefan said with a bright grin. "Though like I said, she’s obviously taken to you. Maybe all that fancy ‘my lady’ stuff. Don’t think anyone but the people up Gold Rock way talk like that."

"Gold Rock?" Sasha asked.

"That’s the biggest city in Schatten – besides Verlorengehen, but that’s beyond the Great Wall so it doesn’t really count. The river runs through Gold Rock, so a lot of towns near it go down it to trade and stuff, and in Winter and Summer people always go for the festivals."

Sasha lifted one brow in query. "Festivals? Teufel permits festivals?"

"For Winter and Summer Solstice – the shortest and longest days of the year, to acknowledge Lord Teufel, whose Will commands all of Schatten, to give him our thanks for weaving the threads of fate that give us all life."

Keeping his opinion on that to himself, Sasha stood up and climbed from the bath. "I see," he said. "Thank you for the bath." He strode from the room, snagging a cloth intended for drying off, and immediately found the clothes that had been left for him.

They were overlarge, but clean and warm. He tugged on the breeches – looser than his own, but worn to the point they were pliant, comfortable – and laced them up, then slid a faded homespun shirt over his head. Those laces he left undone, feeling no need when he would shortly be going to bed. Hopefully not to wake for several hours, though he did not count on his luck holding.

He was just tugging on an old pair of soft, fur-trimmed ankle boots when Stefan and Killian came spilling out, furiously ignoring each other and all but yanking their clothes on. Sasha strode out, not wanting to look at temptation so blatantly offered more than he strictly had to, and made his own way back to the house.

Knocking softly, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Maja smiled at him from the fireplace. "A fine figure you cut, sir, if you do not mind an old lady saying so."

"I am flattered, my lady, I assure you. In this country, I am rather more strange than fine to most eyes."

Maja laughed softly and motioned to the table. "Would you like a glass of cider? It’s not much…"

"If you are certain, my lady…"

"I would not offer if I wasn’t, I assure you. I would get it for you myself, but…"

Sasha shook his head. "Do not be absurd. Stefan and Killian told me they were after a tonic to cure the bite you took. Is it helping?"

"I will be somewhat weak now the rest of my life," Maja said calmly, though her eyes dimmed. "Sentinel venom grows more potent the older the Sentinel gets – I am lucky it was a newborn that bit me, for their poison takes weeks to work. A baby takes mere hours…the older ones, if they bothered to use it, would take only minutes. It is said the Great Sentinels take only seconds, though of course they are so powerful they have no reason to use their venom."

"I see," Sasha said, and poured cider from an earthen jug into a clay cup. He sat on the scrap rug in front of the fire, raising his right knee and looping one arm around it, his free hand holding the cider. He sipped it as she continued to speak, relishing the bite of it, the faint hint of cinnamon. Always he had loved these simple beverages best.

Maja smiled faintly. "My husband and son were sent to bed – though I do not doubt my husband is listening at the door." She smiled fondly in the direction of the rightmost door against the far wall. "They are quite displeased with me…" she winked, "but that has often been the case. They’re even more displeased when I turn out to be right."

Sasha chuckled. "I learned years ago not to challenge a woman who knows her own mind – and that is most women. Still, I am surprised you are so accepting of me, my lady."

"You saved those two idiots, that has earned you my gratitude. You have manners, and they’re genuine enough, and any woman appreciates that in a man. It is also, though…I have not seen Stefan that happy in a long time. He just turned eighteen, and thinks himself so grown." Another wink. "Boys are boys. Still, it is good to see him happy. For that alone, I would welcome you warmly. Around here, boys seldom get to be boys…perhaps…well, I am already in enough trouble." She laughed softly. "Better not to add blasphemy to that, aye? Perhaps you are Lord Teufel in disguise, come to test our devotion."

"I assure you, my lady," Sasha replied, laughing so hard he had to set his cider down, "I am as far from godly as one can possibly get."

Not strictly true – the ring he wore held some pretty strong divine might, but that had nothing to do with this woman, this simple, warm place.

"You are certainly handsome enough, for all that you are rather strange. How is it possible for a person to have red hair?"

Sasha shook his head. "Not so strange, I promise you. No stranger than your purple eyes, the likes of which my people have never seen. To me, the color is quite beautiful. Yet everyone here thinks it boring."

Maja smiled. "You are kind."

"You would be the first to say so, I promise you," Sasha said, finishing off his cider – just as the door flew open. He swallowed a laugh, sharing a brief amused look with Maja, as Stefan and Killian tumbled inside – the former with a bruise forming on one cheek and the latter with a split lip.

"Boys, it’s too late to be roughhousing. Get to bed this very instant! Go on! Shoo!"

Though both looked as though they’d like very much to protest, they immediately bobbed their heads and obeyed – Killian ducking through the leftmost room at the far end of the house, Stefan shimmying up the ladder in the corner.

"I should be resting as well," Sasha said, suddenly feeling every bit of his exhaustion, encouraged by the warming cider. "Thank you, my lady, for everything."

"Ach, this old lady is more than happy to help you, fine stranger. Climb on up to bed – I would have you sleep down here, but we get up early and you’ll be wanting your sleep."

Sasha sorely doubted he’d be sleeping, not if the arrangement was what he suspected. "I bid you good night then, and hope the morning finds you well, my lady."

"Sleep well, sir. Thank you for saving them."

"Of course," Sasha murmured, then quickly climbed the ladder to the small, low-ceiling room above.

Stefan lay in a low bed that was not much more than a thick mattress and piles of blankets and quilts. A single lantern sat on the floor, and Stefan quietly read by it. He immediately closed the book at the sound of movement and turned to face Sasha.

Somewhere he just knew the gods were laughing at him. They did this on purpose, he just knew it. If not them, then the ‘fates’ to which he was apparently immune. Curse them all. He studiously ignored the flush he could just see on Stefan’s cheeks, and shucked off his boots once he reached the bed. "I hope I am not putting you out."

"N-no, but I warn you I toss about a lot. The others complained so much, I moved up here." Stefan scrubbed a hand nervously through his hair. "I can sleep downstairs, if you like. You shouldn’t have to share a bed."

Oh, how he wished. He was nothing if not stupid, though. "I will not kick you from your own bed, Stefan. Two are warmer than one, at any rate." Especially if—he firmly cut off that line of thought.

Stefan nodded and threw back the blankets for him, and with a last silent sigh, calling himself every sort of name, Sasha slid into bed and tugged the blankets up over them. Stefan blew out the lantern, leaving them in darkness.

"What was the book you were reading?" Sasha asked softly to break the tension he could feel pouring off Stefan.

"Uh…an old book of stories. The one I told you about, with the picture of the sky in it. Most of the words are rubbed away…it talks about the days before Licht was lost. I shouldn’t have it, but…a book can’t do any harm, right? Reimund says to completely forget something is to ensure you’ll make the same mistakes again."

"That is very true," Sasha replied. "The past should not be dwelt upon, but neither should it be forgotten." He turned to lie on his stomach, tucking his arms beneath his head. "Good night, Stefan."

"Good night."

Sasha closed his eyes, tired enough to settle but not quite sleep, his nostrils filled with the scent of the man – the boy, Stefan was barely more than a child – beside him. Earthy, as fresh as clean snow, mingled with soap and the simple scents of home. It made something in his chest ache, completely and wholly different than the ache of unfulfilled lust – though if the boy moved any closer that too would become a dreadfully uncomfortable problem.

Sighing at himself, Sasha forced his thoughts to upcoming fights, and what might come when they were all done, until he finally wore himself into exhaustion.

Six

Sasha stirred awake with a muffled groan, burrowing further into the soft hair and skin pressed against him, arms tightening around his warm companion. Whatever was trying to wake him up could wait until he felt like moving, which wasn’t going to be for several hours…

Wait.

Hair?

Warm companion?

Swearing softly, Sasha opened his eyes and took in the dim outline of Stefan curled up fast asleep in his arms, head tucked into the crook of his shoulder. Muttering a few more curses, he slowly and carefully disentangled himself and moved as far away as the confines of the bed would permit. Sitting up, he raked his hair out the way and scrubbed tiredly at his face.

He should just go downstairs and make do with lying by the fireplace until the house woke. Obviously he couldn’t trust his body to behave when his guard was down. Confound it.

His duty – his only purpose -- was to save Schatten from Teufel. Maybe from The Will of Lord Teufel would be more accurate. Sasha snorted softly. He certainly wasn’t expecting to survive the affair; no matter how hard he tried, there were simply too many odds stacked against him. If he did survive, it wouldn’t be long after before his heart gave out without the bolstering strength of the ring – which he highly doubted he’d be keeping, if it survived the adventure.

Nowhere in that scenario was there room for lusting after a young man who was less than half his age. It didn’t even make sense…

All right, that was a blatant lie. Stefan was every last bit of him appealing – young, handsome, energetic, still honest and genuinely kind despite the hard life he lived as a Schatten. It was little wonder Killian was so jealous – Sasha would be in his case. He’d hated the girls who fawned around—

With a rough sound Sasha killed the thought before it could sink in. He was not thinking of it, not anymore. He’d promised himself to finally let it go. It was far too late to change the choices they’d each made…and it would not matter anyway. He was going to die sooner rather than later; that left no room for anything worth having. None at all.

The thought was more depressing than he thought it should be by this point. Sasha lifted a hand to his chest, faintly feeling the beating of his heart. Back in the days when he’d occasionally taken a lover he would listen to their hearts beat as they lay sleeping, hearing the difference between the strong, steady rhythms so different from the weaker, less certain beating of his own.

Bah. It hardly mattered now. Between the ring and the medicine, he would live long enough to complete his mission. That was all that mattered.

Which forcibly drove home the fact that he should not be cuddling up with a young man barely more than a boy as though it were natural and right. It would be far too easy and incredibly cruel to let Stefan get attached to him, which the boy was obviously trying to do – if only because he was taken with a red-haired stranger who went around slaying Sents.

That reminded him he was only awake because something had disturbed his sleep. What? He’d heard nothing since waking up…

Suddenly he felt a crawling sensation across the back of his neck.

Between what little information he’d started with and his own observations since arriving, it was clear the Sentinels had some sort of paralyzing effect on the people of Schatten. As near as he could tell, from about the childhood stage onward the paralyzing effect started to occur – though it was not nearly so debilitating at that stage as it would be later.

Not being from Schatten, it didn’t quite work on him – he could sense it, but it didn’t take hold the way it did with the Schatten. Or maybe it was only he who was immune, though whether it was the ring or simply that he had nothing to fear, Sasha wasn't certain.

If he was feeling them, the Sents were far too close for comfort. Why? They had no reason to come close to the villages; as a general rule they did not attack villages.

Perhaps Lord Teufel was taking issue with the uninvited guest in his lands after all. He hoped he was wrong. On the other hand, maybe a good hard fight would get rid of troublesome tension and help him keep his arms – and the rest of him – to himself. Tossing off the quilts, making certain Stefan was still covered and warm, Sasha tugged on his boots. They were a bit too snug, but if he was about to get into a fight that was better than too big. He cursed himself for leaving his weapons downstairs. He shouldn’t have needed them here, but he should have kept them close anyway.

Quietly he crept downstairs and retrieved his weapons, strapping on the sword belt and fastening the whip in place. As an after thought, he fetched his bag and pulled out a wide, flat leather case. Heavy, cumbersome on most occasions…but as he flipped it open he could only smile to see the two flintlocks nestled inside. Carefully he checked them over and loaded them, then slid them into the special loops at the back of his sword belt. They settled at the small of his back, a comfortable, reassuring weight.

His cloak hung by the door, and Sasha grabbed it and swung it over his shoulders as he stepped outside, gingerly closing the door behind him. The snow crunched beneath his boots, frozen near solid in the chill of the night. At first it seemed as though nothing was there, and Sasha half thought he was inventing spooks to escape his own shadows…but the crawling sensation on his neck came again, stronger than ever.

Darting away from the house, he looped around two more and headed for the village gate – just in time to see the adult Sent knock it down as though the heavy lumber were nothing more than paper.

Swearing aloud, Sasha unhooked his whip and tensed to spring forward.

A scream split the night air and Sasha whipped around in time to see another Sentinel by the bathhouse. Where in the scorching blazes had that one come from? Besides that – who the scorch but him would be awake at this hour?

Snarling, Sasha spun away from the Sent slinking in the gate and sprinted toward the bathhouse. "Move it," he said even as he bolted past and snatched up the woman huddled in the front, half-tossing, half-throwing her toward the nearest house even as he spun back around just in time to avoid the tail that lashed out to take his head. "Fire and ash! It’s too early in the morning for this!"

He threw himself forward, bolting around the bathhouse. Wood crashed and splintered as the Sentinel obliterated the obstacle – but doing that occupied it.

Close quarters. So far he’d only fought in open fields, where there was no one to be injured except him. This was completely different. Blast it! He rounded back around the bathhouse, uncoiling his whip as he went, arm moving, wrist flicking and a resounding crack split the air. Two more cracks, the third striking the Sentinel after the first two drew its attention.

The Sentinel screamed in pain as blood poured from its nostrils – in the cold air, the blood would dry fast, clogging his nostrils, make it harder for the Sent to breathe. Sasha dodged away from a furious swipe of razor sharp claws, grateful that his borrowed boots were made for snow.

Another .crack crack and blood poured down the foreleg trying to attack him.

More screams. Sasha swore. He couldn’t fight two at once, scorch them all! Swearing loudly, he raced quickly through his options even as yet more screams erupted from another section of the village, followed by the sounds of breaking and shuttering, a pained moan as the Sentinel harmed more than wood.

Blast it, this meant he was probably going to pass out again. He hated passing out. Especially after being responsible for destroying villages. "You want to pick a fight! Fine!" A flick of his wrist coiled the whip and he returned it to his belt. Holding one hand straight out, spreading his fingers, he summoned up the power he wanted in his mind. On his left hand, the chaos ring flashed blinding white. "Try this one, you pathetic lizard. I invoke the name and power of the god of fire. Razrusheniye."

The Sent screamed as flames ignited where Sasha had drawn blood – it worked better with more wounds, but even a couple of small wounds was enough to get under the scales. Agony and fury consumed the Sent, and as its head thrashed Sasha stepped forward, drawing his sword as it came low, slitting the Sent’s throat. Blood splashed over him, but he didn’t let it slow him down, merely turned away from the dying Sent and raced for the next.

He didn’t waste time with combat, merely went for another spell. Fire would be useless this time, it wouldn’t break through the scales. That he’d learned the hard way. Luckily, another spell would work where fire failed – especially since it was always cloudy here. He raised his hand high into the air, fingers reaching for the clouds. "I invoke the name and power of the god of thunder and lightning. Raiden."

This time the Sent did not even thrash – the bolt of lightning that broke from the sky struck its head, leaving nothing but a heavy body to fall across the entrance to the village.

It cost though. Sasha fell to one knee, his vision blurring, darkening. He held a hand to his chest, which ached and burned. His stomach roiled and Sasha was grateful that there was nothing left in it to come back up.

With effort he pulled himself back up, closing his eyes and then opening them again, forcing himself to focus. He waited just long enough for the world to right itself, then sprinted back across the village, darting between two houses to the eastern end – where a Sent had knocked right through the thick log wall.

Magic? He’d better, there was no way he trusted himself to stay on his feet after calling upon fire and lightning…lightning again? The world tilted uncertainly around him, and Sasha negated the idea. If he used lightning again, he’d black out immediately and if there were three Sents there could easily be a forth.

"Sasha!"

Swearing, he turned in time to see Stefan running toward him – dressed, sword at his side.

Moving despite the close presence of an adult Sent. The other people he could see were obviously incapable of moving. "Get back," he roared. "Stay out of my way." A snarling roar was his only warning, a sense of rushing movement behind him. Sasha threw himself at Stefan, knocking them both the ground as the Sent’s jaws closed with a cracking snap above them. He kept moving, using his momentum to roll them away, scrambling up and hauling Stefan with him. "Get out of the way," he snapped, hating the hurt look he put there but unable to help it – Stefan had no idea what he was doing, had no business being out here even though—

He shoved Stefan hard into a nearby doorway, throwing himself to the side as the Sent swiped at them. That was it. Scorch them all. Still on one knee on the ground, Sasha slammed his hands to the ground, palms resting flat. "I invoke the name and power of the gods of stone. Culebra. Cortez."

Beneath him the earth began to shake, sharp and fast and sudden. Around him the screams worsened, the panic thick enough to cut. Even the Sent gave a keening, frightened wail. Sasha wasted no time, but lunged forward, slicing his sword across the vulnerable throat.

Hot blood covered him even as he darted away from the dying Sent.

"Sasha…"

He looked up to see Stefan staring at him wide-eyed, expression a mingling of hurt, dismay, and sheer awe.

Sasha started to say something, but pain flared in his chest and he lifted a hand to his heart even as the world went black.

He opened his eyes slowly, finding it took more effort than he really felt like making. So he had passed out.

"You’re awake," a warm voice said.

Sasha turned his head slowly, feeling somewhat nauseous, and looked at Maja. "I really hate passing out."

"You do it with such drama, though," Maja said with a soft chuckle. "To hear Stefan tell it anyway." She laughed harder as he groaned. "Three adult Sents – the entire village is buzzing with it, even those who should not be capable of moving never mind jittering about like a bunch of clucking hens. Calling down fire and lightning, shaking the ground…" Maja winked. "Quite our hero you’ve become, Master Sasha."

Groaning louder, Sasha forced himself to slowly sit up. It looked as though he was in one of the back rooms of Maja’s home, or so he assumed – at least it had survived the damage. "Have they forgotten I’m probably the reason those Sents came at all?"

"I think so," Maja said with another soft laugh. "Anyway, there is no proof of that. Killian…" her levity faded. "I do believe he quite hates you for putting those stars in Stefan’s eyes."

Sasha grimaced. "The starlight will fade soon enough."

"Here, see if you can keep down a bit of broth," Maja said, handing him a clay mug filled with steaming venison broth. "You have been wracked with fever these past three days."

"Three days!" Sasha choked on the broth. Using magic had hit him harder than he’d anticipated…though it also served him right for using not one but three such powerful spells. Still, his options had been limited. Three adult Sents, spread out across the village… He grimaced and went back to slowly sipping the broth. It warmed, soothed, and made his stomach growl.

Maja laughed. "Perhaps we’ll try some bread next, then. Also, I suspect you could do with a bit more of this…" She held out his flask, the cap off. "We were not certain of how much you take or how often, but we took a chance. It is what pulled you through the fever, I think."

"Probably," Sasha said quietly. "How did you…?"

"Your fever seemed to be the result of more than the snow. Stefan said you passed out before after calling up fire. He also recalled the flask, and said you did not act like one who indulged in spirits. We did not think there was a correlation but figured it did not hurt to check…my grandmother knew herbs, and my sister in law is the local healer. Between us, we recognized many potent herbs. Others are strange, but we pieced together its purpose. You are weak of heart."

Sasha nodded. "You and your sister are clever."

Maja shrugged. "Death is something we in Schatten deal with more than perhaps is always fair." She smiled sadly, but after a moment seemed to shake the somberness off and tuck it away. "Here I am whining to you instead of thanking you properly. Even if you were the reason they came, you saved us. Every bit of what Stefan has told us of your skill and power is quite true. That someone would come to Schatten, the land that is all but forgotten by its lost brothers and sisters, means much – even if few of us are capable of properly expressing it."

"Why are you different?" Sasha asked, tilting his head curiously. "In all the months I’ve been here, you are the only who seems to understand things that no one does or can."

"When I was a young girl…" Maja stared down at her hands, now folded neatly in her lap, "I got lost in the Haunted Mountains. I wandered and wandered, completely in despair and terrified a Sent would soon have me for its meal. Finally I decided to go up, until I could see everything and regain my bearings…something only a foolish young girl would think wise. By some miracle, I did in fact make it to the top of the mountain. I could see far away and all around…including the other side of the mountain. From the top of a great peak, I could see signs of a world I hadn’t until then known existed. I quickly grew scared, for Lord Teufel forbids us such things, but I never forgot that brief view. I always wondered what people from that world would be like, if they were anything like us."

Sasha smiled faintly. "I fear I am making rather a horrible impression, then. My countrymen will not thank me for running about looking flashy."

Maja laughed. "Would you like to try some real food?"

"If you do not mind, that sounds wonderful."

"I will go and get it then…and try to keep Stefan away, but I can make no promises. Only in the last couple of hours was I able to get him out of this room." She winked. "I fear he is, as the children say, quite starry for you."

Sasha bit back a groan and lay down as Maja bustled off to the main room. He wished he felt up to leaving, but just the few minutes of sipping broth and speaking with Maja had tired him out – he would be well enough by tomorrow, no doubt, but that wasn’t soon enough.

Starry.

He snorted. The very last thing he needed was to extricate himself from a bad case of hero worship and young lust.

Especially since the boy in question was far too tempting.

He’d already been through this. There was little point in subjecting himself to the debate again. Hopefully Stefan would be kept away and sometime tomorrow – hopefully first thing – Sasha could leave and be well on his way.

Having a corrected map would have been ideal, but at this point he was prepared to continue suffering with the one he had. The door opened, and Sasha stifled another groan – he could tell by the tread who it was. Slowly he opened his eyes. "Stefan."

Stefan looked miserable – in fact he looked rather stricken. Maja hadn’t mentioned he was upset about anything. Had something happened? Was someone killed in the attacks and Maja had not told him? Fire and ash, he hoped not.

"Are you feeling better?" Stefan asked quietly, coming to kneel beside the low bed. The shadows beneath his eyes said he hadn’t been sleeping well, and the usual energy that seemed to emanate from him was glaringly absent.

Slowly Sasha sat up, blinking back his exhaustion. "Minus feeling extremely tired, yes. Thank you. I am sorry that my presence here has caused so much trouble. Was anyone terribly injured?"

"No, actually. Terrified half to death." Stefan smiled faintly. "None of us ever expected to see three adult Sents at once." His smile turned into a grin, some of his usual vivacity returning. "No one expected what you did either – everyone’s been talking about your magic! They say you called down fire, and lightning, and I—" His eager cheer abruptly died, and he dropped his head to stare at his fidgeting hands. "I’m sorry I got in your way. I should have been thinking – certainly I have no idea how to fight a Sent. Even if I did, you’re way better." He looked up hesitantly, face the picture of misery. "Thank you for saving me. Truly I am sorry I made things more difficult."

Sasha summoned a smile. "At least you realize your error. Realizing a mistake is the most important part. Everyone is alive and overall well, so no harm done."

"You were sick for three days!" Stefan exclaimed. "That’s not ‘overall well’ – did my getting in your way – did I cause something to go wrong? I mean, you collapsed fighting the other day but I figured that was because it was a Great Sent. Then you dropped so suddenly in front of me even though you seemed to be fine…"

Laughing softly, Sasha reached out and tilted Stefan’s face up. "Is that what has been worrying you? That I insist on passing out in dramatic fashion?" He shook his head, still chuckling. "Stefan, I passed out because in the span of mere minutes I invoked the names and powers of three gods. That is something that even the most powerful magician I know would hesitate to do without good cause. Such magic is hard on the body and spirit, because it is so demanding. You had nothing to do with it. I simply got carried away in dealing with the three Sents." Sasha let go of Stefan’s chin, thoroughly annoyed with the depth of his reluctance to do so.

Stefan nodded, and much of the worry cleared from his face. "You were asleep so long…but Maja said the stuff in your flask helped a lot."

"It did. It’s…a medicine I have to take periodically. Nothing of particular interest."

Nodding, understanding the unspoken request not to press further questions on the matter, Stefan switched to a different subject. "Your map has been fixed. It’s in your bag."

"I will have to leave compensation."

"Maja says leave her the recipe for the fruitcake and everything will be considered even."

Sasha blinked – then threw his head back and laughed. "Very well, if the lady insists. I will even leave her the brandy I have; it is the same used in the fruitcake. An old acquaintance made it for me."

"Maja is an excellent cook; the man who fixed your map is especially fond of her sweets. So it really will be an even trade," Stefan replied with a grin of his own.

The door opened again and Stefan froze.

"Stefan!" Maja said. "I told you to fetch firewood. Does this look like firewood to you, boy?"

"No, Maja," Stefan said.

Maja rolled her eyes. "I suggest you go find it and stop pestering the invalid, hmm?"

"Yes, Maja," Stefan said. He flashed a parting smile at Sasha, then obediently stood and vanished.

Maja shut the door behind him, then set a small tray of bread and stew down in front of Sasha. "That boy. His head was always in the clouds, but his eyes are so filled with stars right now…" She shook her head and laughed softly. "I would not be surprised if you found a stowaway in your saddle bags when you leave."

"I think my horse would object to the unusual weight," Sasha said dryly. He picked up the wooden spoon on the tray and began slowly to eat. Every bite took effort, though he knew the ring was the only reason he was awake and capable of eating at all. Without it…just being alive would have been a miracle. "You need not worry, I would never let him come on such a bloody and violent journey…I am certain he will settle down not too long after I vanish."

For reply, Maja only murmured noncommittally and smiled gently. "You are obviously tired. I suggest eating all that you can; it will help you get your strength back. When you are finished, just set it on the floor and I will fetch it later. Do you know when you want to leave?"

"Probably in the morning. There is much yet I have to do, and the sooner the better I sense. Beyond that, I do not want to be cause for the village to be attacked a second time." He wouldn’t be up to another attack. Right now one particularly nasty adult Sent was all it would take to put him down for a long time, if not get rid of him entirely.

"I, for one, will be sorry to see you go. Of course we do not know each other well at all…but you are the sort who sticks in the mind, Master Sasha. You make an impression. I think decades from now you will still be talked about."

He'd killed three adult Sents single-handedly with fancy magic. Of course he’d be talked about. Flashy red-haired magician running about like the idiotic hero of a peasant tale? Sasha dredged up a smile, wanting badly to yawn and lay back down. "Hopefully they will find something more interesting to talk about."

"I doubt it," Maja said with a chuckle. She patted his hand and slowly stood up. "Eat. Rest. I will see things are packed for your journey and that all is ready. If I do not see you again, it was an honor and pleasure to meet you."

"The honor and pleasure are mine, my lady. I thank you for everything."

Maja waved the words away, and with a last reminder to eat and rest, she left him in peace.

Sasha made it through about two thirds of the stew and one slice of bread before he simply grew too tired to so much as keep his eyes open. It took what little energy he had left to set the tray on the floor without spilling it. Tugging the quilts up, he burrowed into a surprisingly soft pillow and fell immediately asleep.

When he woke again, Sasha felt much more like himself – another day of rest would not go remiss, but it wasn’t necessary. That meant it was definitely time to depart, and as quietly as possible.

Bright moonlight spilled in the one small window, enough to let him see by. Sliding from his bed, Sasha neatly folded all the quilts and smoothed out the ticking. Moving soundlessly, he crept from his little room out into the main room – relieved to see there was no one there he risked waking.

His bag was packed and ready, weapons set right beside it. His clothes were nearby, clean and neatly folded – even his boots had been cared for. Sasha shook his head, bemused. None of this he had earned. Quite the opposite, in fact. He sighed softly, wishing he could do more than leave a few trifling tokens. The kindness was undeserved, and he would not be able to return to repay it. Ah, well. There was nothing for it.

Dressing quickly, slowed only by the laborious process of pulling on and lacing up his boots, Sasha strapped on his weapons and settled his pack before giving the cabin one last look. It had been a brief but pleasant stay – even with the Sents and four days in bed.

Suppressing another sigh, he strode out the door, closing it quietly behind him. A few minutes was all it took to saddles his horse and lead her through the village.

The sound of feet running on snow brought him whipping about, and he was anything but surprised to see the figure sprinting toward him. Shoving back the hood of his cloak, Sasha glared at Stefan. "You should be in bed."

"I want to go with you," Stefan said.

Sasha sighed and murmured quietly for Chestno to be still. He strode toward Stefan, closing most of the remaining space between them. His breath misted in the cold air, their voices – barely above a whisper – almost painfully loud in the quiet hours of the early morning. "No, you don’t."

Stefan frowned. "Yes, I do. I want—"

"To what?" Sasha asked, cutting him off. "Slay Sents? See the country? Be exactly like the figures in the nonsensical stories that fill your head? It’s nothing like that – what it’s like, Stefan, is much like four days ago. Is that what you want? I do not have time to teach you what I have been learning since I was a small boy." That Stefan was still young enough to learn it was entirely beside the point. "You do not want to come with me – all you want is something different and—"

"And what?" Stefan asked, the words snappish, defensive. Good. That meant he was likely to give up.

"Nothing," Sasha said, cursing himself. He’d very nearly said ‘and to be bedded’ and that would not help matters at all….then again it might. Someone as glaringly naïve as Stefan likely would get scared off – at the very least it would shock him into a retreat, long enough for Sasha to get well away.

Or maybe, he thought dryly, Stefan wasn’t the only one failing to think clearly.

"I want to come with you," Stefan repeated. "I know I’m useless, but I can change that! I don’t want to just sit here, not when there’s a chance…"

"A chance for what?"

Stefan looked at him. "You’re changing things. I don’t know why or how…but you’re giving us a chance to see the sun. I want to help."

"You don’t understand what that entails," Sasha said, trying to keep the words gentle. "Beyond that…" Fire and ash, if it would send the boy scurrying home where he belonged maybe he should try it. "You’re not thinking clearly."

"I am so!"

"No," Sasha replied, "you’re not. What you’re thinking about is adventures – adventures and this." As he spoke, Sasha reached out and wrapped his hand around the back of Stefan’s neck, tugging him across the remaining space between them, simultaneously angling his head back. Stefan opened his mouth to ask what was going on and Sasha covered it with his own, taking advantage of his surprise and immobility to deepen the kiss hard and fast. His tongue swept through Stefan’s mouth, tasting venison and cider, a hint of something fresh and sweet that could only be Stefan himself.

He broke the kiss after what seemed like forever and a mere second, backing away before he gave into a sudden, near-overwhelming urge to take another – he had not expected to be so deeply affected. That one taste of Stefan would stalk his nights for a long time to come. "Go home, Stefan. You’ve no idea what you’re trying to get yourself into."

Spinning around, he mounted Chestno and rode away as he quickly as he safely could, fighting the urge to look back with every ounce of willpower at his disposal. Around him, the early morning seemed suddenly and painfully bleak.

Current Mood: sick
Current Music: Three Days Grace - Time Of Dying