Chaos 7 & 8
May. 28th, 2007 09:17 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
maderrAha, totally forgot it was Monday. Whoops ^^;;
Seven
Stefan stared out the window, watching without really seeing the snow that fell thick and heavy. He started to wonder if Sasha was okay, but thinking about him brought his mind once more crashing to a halt, thoughts crashing down into a messy heap.
Every time he thought of Sasha his face burned. He swore he could still feel that-that-that kiss. Sasha had kissed him. Not like a peck or even something a little more serious – it had been the sort of kiss…oh, who was he fooling. He hadn’t known a kiss could be like that. As if he was being devoured.
As if he’d lost something and would never get it back – not unless he saw Sasha again and he wondered if even that would do it…he wasn’t even sure what he’d lost, or if he’d even lost anything, because really that thought made no sense…
Glaring at the snow, Stefan tried to shunt the memory aside. It wouldn’t be ignored though, and he sighed in frustration, burrowing his head in his arms, which were propped on his knees, drawn up against his chest.
"If you’re not going to eat," Maja said gently. "Then give it here so it doesn’t go to waste."
Stefan jerked his head up, and then guiltily handed over his forgotten bowl to Maja. "Sorry," he muttered.
Maja clucked reprovingly. "Are you going to do nothing but sit by the window and sulk?"
"What?" Stefan asked. "I’m not sulking. I’m just…confused."
"Confused? That’s not unusual for you. What makes this special?" Maja chuckled softly. "Come sit with me, boy. Talk a bit, eh? The others are long gone to bed, though they could have been eaten by Sents and I’m not sure you would have noticed."
Stefan made a face. "I wasn’t that bad."
"Reimund called your name three times and you never made a peep in reply," Maja said dryly. "Pull up that chair and talk to me, Stefan. You have been as gloomy as the sky since you woke up this morning."
Quietly Stefan obeyed, trepidation heavy in his chest. "I’m sorry, Maja."
"Nothing to be sorry for, you goose. It’s plain as day that you’re upset about him leaving – without you, I dare say."
Stefan flushed as he sat down in Reimund’s rocking chair, unable to look at Maja and her too-sharp eyes. "He said I didn’t really want to go…that I was just looking for adventure…" His shoulders hunched as he remembered the conversation…the kiss that had ended it. "Am I really just a stupid kid still, Maja?"
"You’re young, Stefan," Maja said gently. "Young people do foolish things. You need to stop worrying about that and think long and hard about what you want to do. Sasha…I can only imagine what his goal is here – and I do not want to know it. If he warned you off, Stefan, he was probably looking out for you."
"He just thinks I’m a troublesome kid…he said I only wanted adventure and…and…"
"And what?" Maja asked.
Stefan cringed. "He kissed me."
Maja cackled.
Startled, Stefan looked up. He glared at the knowing twinkle in her eye. "You’re not surprised!"
"Boy, I’ve been married for twenty five years, raised two sons of my own blood and took in two more. Never mind all my relatives. I know what lust looks like, especially when the parties involved are trying hard not to look like it. I’m not sure which of you was trying hardest not to stare at the other."
"What?" Stefan said, closing his gaping jaw with effort. "I—he—" He gave up with a frustrated huff.
Maja winked at him but then turned serious. "Stefan…you have to figure out what you really want. Your entire life could change drastically depending on the choices you make. Sasha is a stranger here; according to the Will of Teufel he does not belong here. The attack a few days ago made that abundantly clear – he is not welcome, and those who help him will be punished. It’s a serious matter, especially if he plans to continue challenging Lord Teufel." She stared at her folded hands for a moment. "You have known him but a handful of days, and in none of that time did you have a chance to truly get to know him. That he kissed you says quite a bit – more than you realize. Stefan…you have always had your head in the clouds. The rest of us are quite content to make our way here, but you’ve always been restless. Is Sasha and the risks he’s taking what you’re looking for? Is that what you want? Or is it truly a grand adventure? Will you come to regret joining him in the fight he has picked?"
Stefan was silent, unable to formulate a reply.
"There will be repercussions," Maja continued. "He is strong, and possesses skills we’ve neither seen nor heard of. He is challenging the authority of a god, Stefan. He seems to do it fearlessly. A man like that…if he fears nothing, Stefan, it is because he has nothing to lose." She looked at him, and as unbearable as her steady, serious gaze was Stefan could not look away. "You say you want to go with him…and it is quite clear the effect that kiss had on you…are you looking for an adventure? Is it merely the pretty face you want? Or do you really want more than that? Think hard, Stefan. If you go, you’re as likely to die as he. The pretty face may, in the end, be nothing more than that. You know nothing about him."
He nodded as she finished, but he’d already been through this over and over for hours on end. "Four nights ago…I woke up because I heard a loud crash. I dressed and went downstairs, thinking maybe the snow had caused something to collapse, or there’d been an early morning accident in the bathhouse…once downstairs I realized suddenly that Sasha was already gone – that his weapons and all were missing too. Then I realized why I felt so cold. It was the Sent fear…but it wasn’t stopping me. Everything went crazy right after that. All I could think about was finding Sasha and making certain he was all right. Fighting those Sents…he makes it look so easy, but…" He shrugged. "Not once did the fear ever stop me. My only thought was finding Sasha and helping him any way I could because I knew no one else would be able to…" His shoulders sagged. "All I did was get in his way. He was almost hurt trying to save me."
"No fear…somehow I missed that part," Maja murmured. "That is no small thing."
Stefan nodded absently, his thoughts going further back – to when he’d woken up late in the night, stirred by unfamiliar movement in his bed to find he’d gravitated in the night toward Sasha, who had been wrapped all around him, practically tangling them together. It had been…comforting. Nothing like sleeping with Reiner or Killian – that usually ended in a fight for blankets or someone falling out of bed. With Sasha…he’d been unable to help pressing just a little bit closer, breathing in the scent that had hit him so hard back in the temple – leather and smoke, this time mingled with soap, all of it over that elusive dark and spicy smell that made him feel hot and cold all at once.
He’d fallen almost immediately back asleep – more than the crashing sound, it was the sudden lack of Sasha’s warmth and smell that had woken him back up. Combined with the kiss…he didn’t want to be here. He wanted to be with Sasha. Stefan nodded and looked up, meeting Maja’s steady gaze. "I want to after him, Maja."
"I rather thought you might. This old woman doesn’t know much, but the things she does know – she knows very well indeed. Your bags are packed and waiting up by your bed. Take Reiterei."
"Reiterei?" Stefan repeated, gawking. "Reimund and Reiner will come after me and skin me alive if I take that horse."
Maja snorted. "They’ll do no such thing. I’d like to see them tell me what I may or may not do with my own horse – just because they use her doesn’t mean she belongs to them." She beckoned him close, then kissed his cheek and held him tight. "You are not my little boy anymore, Stefan, but you are becoming a fine man. Whatever you do, my child, you will always have a home here, hmm? Do not forget that."
Stefan cleared his throat and gave her another hug, squeezing tight. "I won’t Maja. Thank you."
"Get on now, then. Before someone wakes up and I have to endure a bunch of squawking. Men get on women for fussing." She rolled her eyes, then patted his cheek fondly. "Hurry it up, boy. It’ll take you quite some time to catch up to him."
"I don’t even know which way he went," Stefan said, reality crashing down. Another thought struck him. "Killian!"
"You leave Killian to me. He is still very much a boy." She frowned. "This is no trip for him, especially…well…you and Sasha will have much to talk about, hmm?" She grinned at him, and Stefan could feel his cheeks turn bright red.
"Maja!"
She clucked at him. "Stop stalling. Get a move on. Think for a bit and I’m sure you’ll know where he’s gone. Perhaps Lost Licht will point the way, hmm? I’m off to bed, then. Blessing of the Light." The last words were barely above a whisper, almost shocking to hear – no one dared to say such things.
Planting one last kiss on her cheek, Stefan whispered a goodbye and raced up the ladder to fetch his things. On his bed, sure enough, Maja had packed all that he could possibly need – including all the things he would never have thought of. Heart racing, Stefan discarded the boots he wore around the village and slipped into the knee-high, fur-lined boots made for snow and ice. He blinked rapidly to see she’d given him Reimund’s fur-lined cloak rather than his own wool. Wrapping up, shouldering his pack, Stefan quickly clambered back down the stairs.
The main room was empty, Maja having gone off to bed as she had said she would. Throat tight, Stefan whispered a soft goodbye to the room and then bolted. His heart felt as though it were going to come right out of his chest as he strode briskly to the stables and readied Reiterei. The horse pushed at him, curious but ever obedient.
It was late, not the best time to travel, but he had the energy and a lot of ground to cover – though he still wasn’t certain which way Sasha would have gone. He frowned in thought as he led Reiterei out of the stable and across the village. At the gate, he nodded to the guards on duty – ignoring their curious looks, shaking his head as they finally gave in and asked – and left the village behind.
He was actually doing it. Going after Sasha. What would Sasha say? Do? He mounted Reiterei and rode off down the path. At the intersection he paused, thinking. When Sasha had ridden off, Stefan had barely been capable of paying attention – but he did remember which direction Sasha had gone, mostly because part of him had wanted to chase after him and demand to know why Sasha had kissed him.
Turning Reiterei onto the left path, Stefan struggled to figure out where Sasha was going. He would have to make good time tonight to even hope of catching up to him, assuming he could in fact find him.
What was in this direction? Gold Rock was toward the north, Raven Knoll a bit more to the south…but Sasha would not know about those. The towns would mean nothing to him. Sasha would care about…Sents. Of course. He’d killed one Great Sentinel! The Wanderer. Before that, he’d been heading toward Swallowtail and Oak Hill. Which meant he’d probably changed his course to find the Wanderer? Now he was back on course, heading for the Great Wall and the Great Sentinel that would be guarding a portion of it.
Possibly. That was his best guess, so he would go with it. Urging Reiterei to a faster pace, Stefan turned her northward as the path split again. This would take them toward Raven Knoll, though at the last he would curve further west along the road that eventually led to the Great Wall and the Great Sentinel guarding it.
Lost Light willing, he would encounter Sasha along the way. At the very least, hopefully he would find a dead Great Sentinel and some indication of Sasha’s next direction.
Ideally, he would not encounter any Sents on his journey. He could use the sword at his hip, but it was meant for newborns, babies, and the youngest children if there was no other recourse.
Pushing back his fear of Sents, Stefan focused on his goal – find Sasha. After that…Stefan really didn’t know. Except that his goal then would change to stay with Sasha.
It took him seven days, which was actually less than he’d anticipated. He was ready to fall over. How did Sasha travel like this?
Stefan almost couldn’t believe it when he saw Sasha's black mare. She stood quietly before the Great Wall, covered in a thick horse blanket.
Not too far away was the corpse of a Great Sentinel. The sight of it was still surreal – the Great Sentinels were hundreds of years old. No one knew how long a Sent could live, or if there was even a limit. Most surmised they were immortal, others said it was probably close to that.
This one was dead. Once he was able to draw close and actually look, Stefan could see it had most likely bled to death – long gashes ran the length of its body, smaller ones along its leg. More blood, now frozen, covered its snout and mouth, a lurid black-red pool beneath the slashed throat.
Stefan shook his head in wonder and turned his horse away from the corpse, back towards Chestno. As he drew close, he realized there was a doorway in the wall – it was open just the barest crack.
Pushing it open, Stefan immediately dropped his pack and raced to where Sasha lay awkwardly on the floor. He was paler than usual, cold to the touch. As though he’d tried to get to cover before collapsing, but hadn’t managed to light a fire or even get his bedding out.
He almost laughed – this was going to be the third time he had to help Sasha after collapsing, though Killian had helped the first time and Maja the second. Smiling briefly, though he could not entirely ignore his embarrassment with certain memories ever ready to torment him, Stefan set to work.
The hardest part was Sasha’s boots – snugly laced, reaching his thighs, and they seemed all but frozen. Slowly he managed it though, and tossed them aside, then set about stripping off the wet clothing, ignoring his own burning cheeks as his eyes lingered overlong on every bit of flesh bared. He turned his head away as he pulled off Sasha’s pants, but his eyes were traitorous and snuck a quick, furtive glance before embarrassment got the better of him.
Somehow the men in the village had never mattered. Stefan had seen them in the bathhouse a million times and he’d never felt so much as a shred of what he felt looking at Sasha now.
Who was cold but thankfully not dangerously – he was pale, but Stefan thought that had more to do with the fighting than the temperature. Tossing the wet clothes aside to tend to later, he quickly gathered his own bedroll as well as Sasha’s, setting them out and then laboriously moving Sasha – sleeping so hard he nearly seemed dead – onto them before covering the man with both their cloaks as well as the extra blanket Maja had packed with his things – a thick, heavy quilt that would ordinarily be an unnecessary burden but in these freezing temperatures he was only grateful.
Shivering, Stefan dug into his bags and pulled out a spare cloak – not as nice as the one he’d given Sasha, but it would do to collect…what was that in the corner?
Frowning, Stefan tugged at the handle of the door he had not noticed until then – he nearly fell over when his weight unbalanced, not having expected the door to actually give.
It was a storage room. The smell of must and wood washed over him. There was just enough light from the other room to see a bit, and his eyes widened at what he saw – a large chest. One corner was neatly stacked with firewood.
What was this place?
Shaking his head, setting the mystery aside for when there was time to puzzle it out, Stefan quickly gathered up the firewood and took it back into the main room. A few minutes later he had a steady fire going – in a pit that seemed made for precisely that purpose; there was even a hole in the roof for the smoke.
When the room began to warm, Stefan went outside to tend the horses, seeing they were warm enough and feeding them.
Back inside, he strode back to the storage room and the large trunk. It took him a few tries to manage the fastenings in the dim light, but when he finally threw the lid back he crowed in delight – bedding! Furs, thick blankets, a heavier bedroll…
Half an hour later, he had Sasha well and truly settled, his color already beginning to come back. Content, Stefan sat down and finally allowed both his happiness at finding Sasha and his exhaustion to strike him – both conspired to drive him to first sit down, and then hesitantly lie, beside Sasha. Lulled by the heat of the flames, the warm furs, the presence of the man he had been hunting for several days, Stefan drifted off to sleep.
When he woke, it was because of a chill – he’d only wrapped up in his cloak, not quite willing to share the blankets when Sasha was naked beneath them. The fire had all but died, and Stefan forced himself up and slowly set about stoking it back up.
He froze at the sound of movement, shoulders hunching as he turned to watch and wait.
Sasha sat up with a low groan, hand going to his head, raking his hair from his face. He blinked. Blinked again. Slowly turned to look at Stefan, and stared in silence.
"Umm…" Stefan bit his lip, realizing abruptly he had no idea what to say.
"I seem to wake up naked around you an awful lot," Sasha said dryly. He sighed. "What are you doing here, Stefan?"
"I’m coming with you," Stefan said, forcing himself to meet Sasha’s gaze, to stare into those dark gold eyes that seemed suddenly to make breathing difficult.
Sasha frowned. "No."
"It’s a little late now – I’m already here," Stefan replied, the words flowing without his permission. "Besides, you obviously need help. Do you always pass out after every fight?"
"Perhaps," Sasha said slowly, narrowing his eyes. "However, I’ve survived just fine on my own. Having a man who is barely out of boyhood would not help."
Stefan flushed. "I want to help – however I can. You’re trying to make a difference. You kill Sents! I…if a complete stranger can come in and do that, why can’t I?" He dropped his gaze. "Maybe…maybe what else you-you said…what you did is true too." His face felt like it was on fire. "I don’t…I mean…that’s not why I came. I-I know I’m just a kid, with…all that. There’s no way you’d want a dumb kid…but I do want to save Schatten. I never realized it was possible before."
Sasha made a sound like a pained groan. "I give up. Fire and ash, you are the most scorching—" He ran a hand over his face. "What is Maja going to do when she finds you gone?"
"She packed my things."
"Liar."
Stefan glared. "I am not! Maja gave me her approval – she knew before I did I wanted to go, I think."
"That sounds like Maja," Sasha said with a sigh. "You have no idea what you’re getting into, Stefan."
"I want to help – even if that’s only picking you up when you pass out."
Sasha shook his head. "I've managed to survive through twenty adult Sents and five Great Sents, Stefan."
"What!" Stefan choked. "Five? You—you—you’ve killed five?"
"Yes," Sasha replied, laughing softly. "Though I will admit it is nice not to wake up half-frozen and covered in snow." He snorted. "Even if I do wind up naked a lot."
Stefan’s cheeks burned more than ever. "I—I’m sorry."
"No need," Sasha said calmly. "Stefan…I don’t plan to stop at Great Sentinels. I am going to kill them, then the Holy Sentinel…and Lord Teufel."
"That…that’s impossible," Stefan breathed.
Sasha glowered at something only he could see. "No, it’s not. However, it will be difficult. The duty is mine, no one else’s. You should go home."
"I don’t want to," Stefan. "This is where I want to be."
Silence fell, and Stefan’s tension increased to the point he thought he’d burst. Maybe he should just go.
"Stefan…"
"Don’t tell me I can’t. I want to help," Stefan replied tightly before Sasha could tell him to go home again.
Sasha sighed and shoved back a strand of hair that had fallen in his face. "Fine. You will regret it, Stefan, but you may stay. Far be it for me to fight with a stubborn youth." He smiled briefly. "I know all too well what it’s like to be one – there was no arguing with me, either. Not at that age…"
Relief flooded through him, and only then did Stefan realize just how tense he’d been. "Thank you."
Sasha grunted. "Don’t thank me yet, Stefan. Just understand that you can go home any time."
"I won’t," Stefan said. Silence fell and he started to grow nervous again. There was something more to be said…to be done? He didn’t even know how to go about that – and Sasha…Sasha had only been scaring him off. "Are you hungry?" he finally asked, not knowing what else to say or do. He reached out to stoke the fire – and jumped when a hand tightened around his wrist. Stefan looked up and started to ask what was wrong, but it tumbled out a startled cry as he was yanked forward.
When the world held still again, Stefan found he was under the blankets – under Sasha. A naked Sasha. Mercy of the Lost Light he was going to pass out.
"Now," Sasha said slowly. He was braced on his hands, which were on either side of Stefan’s head. His dark, fiery hair spilled down, just short of brushing Stefan’s face. Those dark gold eyes burned as they watched him. "As to the second half of what you said…"
"S-second half?" Stefan squeaked.
Sasha lowered his head, so close Stefan wanted to panic. This wasn’t…what he’d expected at all. "Yes. What was it you said? That I wouldn’t want you?"
Was it possible for a face to get so hot? Stefan rather thought the fire would feel cold next to the heat of his face. "I—"
He didn’t get a chance to say anything more, his words turning into a startled whimper as Sasha’s mouth crashed down on his, flooding him with a dark and spicy taste as heady as the scent that clung to him. Hot, fierce, leaving Stefan once more with the feeling that he was being devoured. What was he supposed to do?
In the next moment though Sasha broke the kiss, gold eyes blazing. "Stefan – a dead man would want you. Fire and ash! You should go home, Stefan."
"I…" Stefan untangled his arms from the blankets and shyly, hesitantly, rested them on Sasha’s hips. "I don’t want to go home."
"You’re an idiot," Sasha said, but with a hint of a smile. He leaned down to kiss him again, but this time it was slow, easy…Stefan felt as though he was being explored. His fingers tightened unconsciously on Sasha’s hips as he began to respond, imitating what Sasha did, heart pounding so fast he couldn’t bear it.
Then Sasha shifted slightly, and a hand was stroking his chest, tugging at the laces of his shirt. Cool air touched his chest, making him gasp into Sasha’s mouth, but almost immediately it was replaced by the burning touch of Sasha’s fingers.
Hot, so hot. He could barely stand it.
Sasha broke the kiss and Stefan gasped for air – for sanity. He got neither as soft lips trailed across his cheek, his jaw, along his throat. "Are you certain, Stefan?"
Stefan groaned, twisting restlessly, shocked by a heat that was familiar and foreign all at once, that said more plainly than words that Sasha was far from disinterested. He tilted his head up, unconsciously begging for another kiss. Sasha gave it, returning to those devouring, dizzying kisses that left Stefan aching and hungry.
"I will take that for a yes," Sasha murmured against his mouth before returning to the kisses, his touch increasing, becoming maddening, and Stefan gave up doing anything but feeling.
Eight
Sasha woke slowly, as though sleep did not want to let him go – but as awareness came, he wondered if perhaps it was his conscience trying to keep him asleep. His fingers slid across soft, smooth skin as he sat up, and he could not resist letting them linger despite the guilt that filled him.
He reached out to brush a strand of hair from Stefan’s cheek, tracing the line of a strong cheekbone. Stefan looked good thoroughly sated, fast asleep and unconsciously pressing closer.
Too good. Nor did he like the possessiveness that swept through him at the thought that he was the one who’d put that sated look there, the one who’d worn Stefan out. The one to introduce Stefan to such things.
With a rough sound Sasha hauled himself out of the pile of blankets and stoked the fire, then found and pulled on his clothes. Carefully ignoring the sleeping temptation calling him back to bed, he rifled through packs and slowly put together a meal – he had no idea of the time, though by the light it looked to be roughly midday.
Fire and ash, what had he been thinking? Sasha scrubbed his face and sighed. Why had he given in? He snorted – because obviously he hadn’t been thinking. Stefan had come after him. Foolishly, naively…but not wholly ignorantly…and with Maja’s blessing. That was interesting. More than anything, that Maja approved – for she, at least, probably understood all the possible consequences – had persuaded him to take that last step.
His eyes slid unbidden to the tangle of blankets, raking over the sleeping form. Whoever well and truly caught Stefan would be the most fortunate man in the world. Sasha’s mouth twisted at the jealousy and unhappiness that welled up in him.
Furiously he poked at the fire, snarling silently at images and memories that rose up unbidden of the last time he’d felt this strongly about anyone. He was done. No longer was he going to dwell on the past.
Still – it had taught him how stupid it was to get that attached to someone. Never again, he’d vowed. Never again would he say…
I love you.
You’re up to something. Are you worried about the appointment?
…What? Why…why are you laughing?
Come on, really. What are you up to? You’re usually more creative than this, though. Misha tried the same thing yesterday, did you know? I guess I forgot to tell you.
Misha? He’s a lying, manipulative bastard.
Yes. You’re a smart, clever bastard. So why all this ridiculousness? You know I’ll appoint you.
I’m not joking. I’m perfectly serious. I—why would you think I’m lying?
Men don’t love men, not the way you’re trying to play it.
That’s absurd and you know it.
You’re the one being absurd. Stop playing these games.
I’m not playing games! The fortune teller said I’d fall in love with you. It’s fate!
Ha! Now I know you’re up to something. Tell me what you’re scheming, I’ll help you.
…I’m serious…
Did my sister put you up to this? That would be like her, of course. Come on, let’s go back to the party.
But…I…I’ll follow you in a moment. There is something else I have to do first.
Suit yourself….no more games. Not this kind.
I will never mention it again. You have my word.
A soft, sleepy groan stirred Sasha from his thoughts. Tousled, still half-asleep, Stefan propped himself on his elbows and blinked at him. "Sasha?"
There was not a person in all the world capable of resisting that. Stifling a groan of his own, Sasha crawled across the space between them and sank his fingers into Stefan’s hair, holding him in place for a kiss. Sweet, eager and pliant, Stefan was so addictive it was disconcerting. When he had experience behind him, the boy – the man – would be nothing less than fatal. Sasha thought he truly hated whoever finally staked a permanent claim…but there was deep satisfaction in knowing he had staked the first claim.
Stefan moaned into his mouth, and his hands landed shyly but firmly on Sasha’s shoulders, fingers tight in the fabric of his shirt. "Sasha…"
"I thought you would be sleeping for a while yet," Sasha murmured against his mouth before biting down on his bottom lip, soothing the nip with his tongue before taking another kiss, exploring every crevasse of Stefan’s sweet, warm mouth. "You were quite exhausted."
That flush was cute, and Sasha chuckled softly as he pressed kisses to the heated cheeks.
"You’re dressed."
Sasha paused, and looked up, startled by the words – then he laughed and pressed Stefan back into the blankets, straddling him, smoothing his hand over one hip, up his side, over his chest. "So I am. Are you hoping to change that?" He nuzzled one burning cheek.
"S-Sasha!" Stefan twisted and bucked against the knowing touches.
"Youth," Sasha said with a soft chuckle. "To have such energy again..." Sadness welled up at the thought that he’d never had such energy. He buried it by taking another kiss, swallowing Stefan’s eager gasps and moans. "It would be best not to, sweet." He let his hand explore lower, stroking and caressing, teasing and tormenting. "You will already have quite the time riding a horse for the next day or so."
Stefan groaned, head falling back. "That…I could never…Sasha…"
Sasha lapped at his throat, unable to resist such a pretty offer. "I suppose if the world has waited this long to be saved, it can wait a day more, hmm? If you do not like my clothes, perhaps you should remove them."
Cheeks still burning but his eyes dark with need, want, Stefan immediately set to clumsily but determinedly helping to remove Sasha’s clothes, his touches like the sweetest torture. Sasha leaned down to take another taste of that sweet, drugging mouth, shunting his thoughts and doubts aside to enjoy what was before him. The present, he reminded himself. Nothing else.
"So what is so special about Raven Knoll?" Sasha asked. "I did not have much time to learn of this country before I came here." More accurately, knowledge was simply lost. Even Raz had not had much to offer; Licht had always been reclusive.
Stefan launched into a recital of all he knew, eager to share knowledge despite the grimness of their quest and some of the facts he related. Sasha refused to think about how good it felt to think their quest.
"Schatten is a land of fate, and many people seek to know their fate ahead of time. A few of the smaller towns have a priest or two…but those who truly seek to know what the future will bring travel either to Gold Rock or Raven Knoll. Both cities boast holy temples and priests blessed by Lord Teufel with the ability to see a person’s fate.
"Gold Rock is smaller. There are some who say it was Lost Licht’s favorite place in the whole of Schatten, and that is why the rock which gives the city its name shines like gold. All are forbidden to visit the Field of the Rock, but many go each year to gaze upon it from afar and remember that Licht fell for us, slain by his brothers."
Stefan shrugged. "But so far as reading fate is concerned, Raven Knoll is vastly superior to Gold Rock. It’s in Raven Knoll that Unheilvol resides. It is the holiest of temples, and has been there since the day Lost Licht created Lord Teufel. Once, it was his most favored place, as Lost Licht favored Gold Rock. Now, it is the seat of prophetic power. All who feel themselves capable of hearing their true and complete fate go there."
"Prophecy," Sasha said with a grimace. He wanted nothing to do with scorching prophecy. All his life…one thing after another dictated…
You will fall in love w—
Snarling, Sasha cut the thought off. No more. Never again. He was not subject to the dictates of prophecy.
He just wished someone had seen fit to tell him that sooner.
"So tell me more about this Unheilvol."
Stefan nodded and resumed speaking. "The temple is carved from obsidian, and none but the priests may enter it except at night. Priests are born with the mark of Fate, the Crest of Teufel." He reached up to touch the center of his forehead. "A black circle, right here."
The crest of Teufel was a black circle within a gold one. Shadow born of light. Priests should not have the power of the shadow alone, but he could hardly expect them to be proper priests.
"What exactly is required to hear one’s fortune?"
"Gold," Stefan replied. "Blood. Strength. To hear one’s fate is a terrible burden."
"Yes," Sasha said softly. "It is."
Stefan looked at him, a deep frown overtaking his face. "You sound sad when you say that. Do you have similar temples in your homeland? Did you hear your fate?"
"Something like that," Sasha said, fighting back the bitterness that tried to well up. "These days, I prefer to decide my own fate, no matter what anyone tells me."
He almost smiled at the confused look that overtook Stefan’s face. "Everyone is subject to the threads of fate."
"Not everyone," Sasha said firmly. He moved his horse closer to Stefan’s and halted them both, leaning in close to kiss Stefan softly. He was weak, and foolish, but he couldn’t remember when he hadn’t been. Chuckling at Stefan’s red face, Stefan stroked one flushed cheek and then forced himself away. "So what has this city to offer besides fortunes?"
Stefan blinked, as if gathering his thoughts, before finally replying. "They say the temple has a great library, though of course only the priests have access. There is a woman back home who was born in Raven Knoll. She said she was glad to leave it, though it is a beautiful city."
"Did she hear her fate?" Sasha asked.
"Yes…she will not speak of it."
Sasha grunted. "I would imagine not. No one should know their fate." His fingers twitched on the reins, fighting the urge to touch his chest. It ached. He wondered how much time he had left. Not that it mattered; he would make certain it was just enough. "What about information on the Great Wall? That is what I seek."
"The Great Wall?" Stefan blinked at him, brow furrowing in thought. "I…the Great Wall is just there. It’s as old as the Sentinels. No one knows anything about them or the Wall."
"I just bet." Sasha smiled briefly. "I think we should have our fortune told." He winked and then urged his horse to a faster pace, laughing at Stefan’s demands for an explanation.
Black and white.
All he could see was black and white.
Snow covered everything. It had started falling yesterday evening and not stopped for more than a moment. If he was not so used to trekking through it back home, he probably would have been stranded.
Stefan, much to his amusement, had scarcely seemed to notice. The benefits, Sasha supposed, of knowing nothing but a hard life.
The houses were covered with snow, so too the streets. Every available surface was smothered in white. It had stopped only recently, and given that it was quite late, it would be some hours yet before any of the snowfall was cleared away.
Wearily Sasha trekked along. They should have probably spent the night camping again, but he wanted rest and sleeping where Sents could attack at any time for more nights than strictly necessary was not what he considered restful.
A building that was unmistakably an inn came into view. He passed a coin and his reins to Stefan. "Stable the horses, give that to the stableman. I will get us lodgings." The sound of their feet, the hooves of their horses, was painfully loud in the silence of the sleeping town.
Somewhere a bell rang, a clear, sharp sound. Sasha thought it sounded melancholy, and chalked the idiotic thought up to exhaustion.
"You are a shattered mirror…"
Sasha stopped short and turned sharply around, seeking out the speaker.
The voice was rough, ragged, the words slurred.
A shadow shifted, something crunching in the snow. Then it moved into the light of a tavern lamp. Sasha loosed his sword in its sheath but did not draw it. He narrowed his eyes at the sad figure in the snow.
Nearby, Sasha heard Stefan gasp, move. He motioned Stefan to stay back, then turned his attention back to the strange speaker.
He was dressed in the filthy ragged remnants of a robe and a cloak that looked as though it was fit only for burning. His hair hung in knotted clumps around his head, with a ragged beard in even worse condition. The stench of alcohol and blazes knew how long without a bath poured off the man. Sasha wrinkled his nose, and rested a hand cautiously on his sword as the vagabond drew close.
Still he waited, though, because there was a…melody…beneath the rough, drunken slur of the wastrel’s voice. Perhaps he was simply tired, for he could not imagine why he was hearing anything of note in a drunkard’s voice. "What do you want?"
"The boy…darkness. The pure, unbroken darkness of a moonless night. You…shattered mirror." The man stepped closer, the lamp light falling fully across his face.
His eyes looked black, their color unable to overcome the dark. Something told Sasha they were dark anyway. A deep violet, perhaps. Sasha watched the man implacably, and spoke in a tone that had once sent people scurrying from his presence. "I repeat, sir, what do you want?"
"Shattered mirror," the man said again. "Pieces scattered everywhere, each one reflecting something different. Your like I have never seen before. What are you?" He stepped closer still, and Sasha shot a hand out to shove him back.
Instead the man grabbed his wrist and held it fast, the strength there startling. Sasha froze, feeling…something…where the man touched him.
Something more than a sudden need for a bath, though he was now feeling that more strongly than ever. "Unhand me at once."
"You burn," the man said quietly, and this close Sasha could see his eyes were indeed dark violet. "Shattered mirror warmed by the sunlight." Moving faster than Sasha would have thought he could, the man reached up and yanked the hood from his head. Sasha’s hair tumbled free of the loose binding in which he’d put it, spilling over his shoulders in a messy tangle.
Violet eyes widened. "He knows you. So faint the memory, like the last dying ember of a fire. Yes, fire." Dirty fingers reached up to softly touch a strand of his hair. "A shattered mirror reflecting countless flames."
"Get away from me," Sasha said, and shoved the man back, watching as he collided with the wall.
If it caused the man any pain, he gave no indication, merely settled his filthy robes and once more stared at Sasha. "What do you seek, shattered one? To know which reflection belongs to you?" The man chuckled, and the sound of it struck Sasha to his core. That…it wasn’t a melody…more like…there was something more to the man’s voice. Something hidden. There was also sadness in it, bitterness…hatred. Feelings Sasha knew all too well. "Who are you?"
The man threw his head back and laughed, rage and pain filling the street, making Sasha’s chest throb. "I am no one. Nothing but what you see before you."
"He…he’s…" Stefan suddenly spoke up. He came up beside Sasha and pointed. "Look."
Sasha followed his finger, and after a moment figured out what he was indicating.
A black circle in the middle of the man’s forehead. "You’re a priest."
"Nothing but a drunkard growing dangerously sober," the man said with something that was probably intended to be a smile. He turned his eyes, far too bright and alert to belong to a drunk, upon Stefan. "The darkness of a moonless night. Anything can happen when nothing can be seen. Hidden by unrelenting black, what would you do?" He reached out a hand.
Stefan recoiled, fingers catching Sasha’s arm, unconsciously seeking protection.
Shoving Stefan back, Sasha pulled a couple of coins from his purse and tossed them at the man, somehow unsurprised when he easily caught them, biting down lightly on the metal to test their quality.
"Much obliged, but I do not take coin for free," the man said. "I’m not so much a wastrel as that." He tucked the coins away and peered at Sasha. "You seek—"
The sound of raucous laughter spilling from the nearby tavern cut into whatever he’d been about to say. The stranger recoiled, scurrying back into the shadows. Silence regained control of the empty street as the door fell shut again.
Sasha stared at the man who had just left the tavern, a cold feeling crawling up his spine. He touched the hilt of his sword, then slid instead to his whip, reassured by the smooth leather long worn to fit his hand, the blessing of Zhar Ptitka upon it thrumming through, causing an ache but also warming him. He tugged the hood back up over his hair and face.
Rather than pass them by, the stranger paused. "Gentlemen…strangers should not be out at such hours." His eyes slid to the shadows. "I see our resident gutter trash has waylaid you. Pay him no mind. Have you a place to stay?"
If there was one thing Sasha knew never to trust, it was such immediate solicitousness. He took a closer look at the stranger, immediately spying the tell-tale black mark in the middle of his forehead. The stranger was about his height, with short dark hair and pale eyes, set in features too sharp and severe to be considered handsome. Sasha had the impression the man was intimidating to most, his station as priest notwithstanding. The robes he wore stopped just short of the ground, voluminous and probably quite warm. Tailored, rather than hanging loose on his frame, with a fine corded belt wrapped around his hips, the ends trailing halfway down the front.
Sasha knew a rat when he saw one.
Fire and ash, he just wanted to go to bed.
The vagabond laughed, and the sound of it was colder than the winter night surrounding them. "I might be gutter trash, now, but I wasn't always." he said. "You might wear my robes, and stand in my place in that black pit, but that does not mean you are suddenly all that I ever was." His voice grew stronger, louder. "You are a better politician, and you’ve a tongue made for licking boots – but you are still a poor priest. To worship and serve a god requires humility, respect. Two terms you have never bothered to learn. You read the shadows like a halfwit and you always will. That is your fate, and I see it as clearly as I do the fresh snow."
"Your words are meaningless, drunkard," the priest snapped. He lifted a hand, and Sasha felt magic thrum in the air.
Acting on instinct, Sasha moved to stand between the drunk and the priest, summoning spells to his mind, ready to cast. "I thank you for attempting to interfere, good priest," he said calmly. "We are managing just fine on our own."
The priest’s lips curled. "I am sorry that so shortly upon arrival you meet the shame of our city. Once a great priest…he went mad. But that was his fate. To live a cursed life."
"Perhaps we can come by the temple to see how a proper priest behaves."
"Do, please. If you are willing to hear your fate…"
Sasha smirked. "Quite. I bid you good night, priest."
"Good night, stranger…not of this land. Come to me at sunset tomorrow."
"As you wish."
Nodding, the priest departed.
Sasha waited until he was well and truly gone, then turned back to the vagabond. "Who and what are you?"
"Cursed," the man said hoarsely. "A voice in my head, never silent. Alcohol dulls it." He locked eyes with Sasha. "I need no magic to see the fate of a man. All futures are laid bare to me. It is but one aspect of my curse. Yet you…no clear future do I see. Only scattered pieces of a shattered mirror. Thousands of glittering shards, each reflecting something different. A thousand different fates, and more besides."
Sasha’s gold eyes gleamed, the ring on his finger flashing briefly in the dark night. "Chaos." He held out his hand, ring shining.
"The voice is loud, it drowns my thoughts," the vagabond moaned. He stared a moment longer, violet eyes nearly black with confusion, then with another soft moan placed his hand in Sasha’s. He gasped. "Threads…no threads of fate bind you."
"Nor will they ever," Sasha said. He had been quite firm about not wanting Stefan along. Even now, he wished Stefan were somewhere safe. This man, though…the pain and anger he wore like a second skin… "Stay with me, and perhaps your own will begin to fray."
The man closed his eyes and nodded wearily, slowly taking his hand back. "I would like that."
Sasha nodded. "Come with us then. You can start with a bath."
Mouth twisting in something that almost resembled a genuine smile, the man nodded and followed as Sasha turned to lead the way.
"What’s your name?" Stefan asked, his voice startling after he’d stayed quiet for so long.
The man stared at him, then flashed a tired grin. "Not so long ago, I was Friedrich Pankraz, Lord High Priest of Unheilvol, Sacred Seer Blessed by Lord Teufel. But when I was a boy, before I was alone, the woman I considered my mother called me ‘Fritz’."
"Fritz, then. I am Stefan, he is Sasha."
"A pleasure. If you were serious about that bath, it will be even more of a pleasure."
Sasha snorted. "Oh, I was serious. Baths all around, and then I intend to sleep for a very long time. Then we will talk."
Seven
Stefan stared out the window, watching without really seeing the snow that fell thick and heavy. He started to wonder if Sasha was okay, but thinking about him brought his mind once more crashing to a halt, thoughts crashing down into a messy heap.
Every time he thought of Sasha his face burned. He swore he could still feel that-that-that kiss. Sasha had kissed him. Not like a peck or even something a little more serious – it had been the sort of kiss…oh, who was he fooling. He hadn’t known a kiss could be like that. As if he was being devoured.
As if he’d lost something and would never get it back – not unless he saw Sasha again and he wondered if even that would do it…he wasn’t even sure what he’d lost, or if he’d even lost anything, because really that thought made no sense…
Glaring at the snow, Stefan tried to shunt the memory aside. It wouldn’t be ignored though, and he sighed in frustration, burrowing his head in his arms, which were propped on his knees, drawn up against his chest.
"If you’re not going to eat," Maja said gently. "Then give it here so it doesn’t go to waste."
Stefan jerked his head up, and then guiltily handed over his forgotten bowl to Maja. "Sorry," he muttered.
Maja clucked reprovingly. "Are you going to do nothing but sit by the window and sulk?"
"What?" Stefan asked. "I’m not sulking. I’m just…confused."
"Confused? That’s not unusual for you. What makes this special?" Maja chuckled softly. "Come sit with me, boy. Talk a bit, eh? The others are long gone to bed, though they could have been eaten by Sents and I’m not sure you would have noticed."
Stefan made a face. "I wasn’t that bad."
"Reimund called your name three times and you never made a peep in reply," Maja said dryly. "Pull up that chair and talk to me, Stefan. You have been as gloomy as the sky since you woke up this morning."
Quietly Stefan obeyed, trepidation heavy in his chest. "I’m sorry, Maja."
"Nothing to be sorry for, you goose. It’s plain as day that you’re upset about him leaving – without you, I dare say."
Stefan flushed as he sat down in Reimund’s rocking chair, unable to look at Maja and her too-sharp eyes. "He said I didn’t really want to go…that I was just looking for adventure…" His shoulders hunched as he remembered the conversation…the kiss that had ended it. "Am I really just a stupid kid still, Maja?"
"You’re young, Stefan," Maja said gently. "Young people do foolish things. You need to stop worrying about that and think long and hard about what you want to do. Sasha…I can only imagine what his goal is here – and I do not want to know it. If he warned you off, Stefan, he was probably looking out for you."
"He just thinks I’m a troublesome kid…he said I only wanted adventure and…and…"
"And what?" Maja asked.
Stefan cringed. "He kissed me."
Maja cackled.
Startled, Stefan looked up. He glared at the knowing twinkle in her eye. "You’re not surprised!"
"Boy, I’ve been married for twenty five years, raised two sons of my own blood and took in two more. Never mind all my relatives. I know what lust looks like, especially when the parties involved are trying hard not to look like it. I’m not sure which of you was trying hardest not to stare at the other."
"What?" Stefan said, closing his gaping jaw with effort. "I—he—" He gave up with a frustrated huff.
Maja winked at him but then turned serious. "Stefan…you have to figure out what you really want. Your entire life could change drastically depending on the choices you make. Sasha is a stranger here; according to the Will of Teufel he does not belong here. The attack a few days ago made that abundantly clear – he is not welcome, and those who help him will be punished. It’s a serious matter, especially if he plans to continue challenging Lord Teufel." She stared at her folded hands for a moment. "You have known him but a handful of days, and in none of that time did you have a chance to truly get to know him. That he kissed you says quite a bit – more than you realize. Stefan…you have always had your head in the clouds. The rest of us are quite content to make our way here, but you’ve always been restless. Is Sasha and the risks he’s taking what you’re looking for? Is that what you want? Or is it truly a grand adventure? Will you come to regret joining him in the fight he has picked?"
Stefan was silent, unable to formulate a reply.
"There will be repercussions," Maja continued. "He is strong, and possesses skills we’ve neither seen nor heard of. He is challenging the authority of a god, Stefan. He seems to do it fearlessly. A man like that…if he fears nothing, Stefan, it is because he has nothing to lose." She looked at him, and as unbearable as her steady, serious gaze was Stefan could not look away. "You say you want to go with him…and it is quite clear the effect that kiss had on you…are you looking for an adventure? Is it merely the pretty face you want? Or do you really want more than that? Think hard, Stefan. If you go, you’re as likely to die as he. The pretty face may, in the end, be nothing more than that. You know nothing about him."
He nodded as she finished, but he’d already been through this over and over for hours on end. "Four nights ago…I woke up because I heard a loud crash. I dressed and went downstairs, thinking maybe the snow had caused something to collapse, or there’d been an early morning accident in the bathhouse…once downstairs I realized suddenly that Sasha was already gone – that his weapons and all were missing too. Then I realized why I felt so cold. It was the Sent fear…but it wasn’t stopping me. Everything went crazy right after that. All I could think about was finding Sasha and making certain he was all right. Fighting those Sents…he makes it look so easy, but…" He shrugged. "Not once did the fear ever stop me. My only thought was finding Sasha and helping him any way I could because I knew no one else would be able to…" His shoulders sagged. "All I did was get in his way. He was almost hurt trying to save me."
"No fear…somehow I missed that part," Maja murmured. "That is no small thing."
Stefan nodded absently, his thoughts going further back – to when he’d woken up late in the night, stirred by unfamiliar movement in his bed to find he’d gravitated in the night toward Sasha, who had been wrapped all around him, practically tangling them together. It had been…comforting. Nothing like sleeping with Reiner or Killian – that usually ended in a fight for blankets or someone falling out of bed. With Sasha…he’d been unable to help pressing just a little bit closer, breathing in the scent that had hit him so hard back in the temple – leather and smoke, this time mingled with soap, all of it over that elusive dark and spicy smell that made him feel hot and cold all at once.
He’d fallen almost immediately back asleep – more than the crashing sound, it was the sudden lack of Sasha’s warmth and smell that had woken him back up. Combined with the kiss…he didn’t want to be here. He wanted to be with Sasha. Stefan nodded and looked up, meeting Maja’s steady gaze. "I want to after him, Maja."
"I rather thought you might. This old woman doesn’t know much, but the things she does know – she knows very well indeed. Your bags are packed and waiting up by your bed. Take Reiterei."
"Reiterei?" Stefan repeated, gawking. "Reimund and Reiner will come after me and skin me alive if I take that horse."
Maja snorted. "They’ll do no such thing. I’d like to see them tell me what I may or may not do with my own horse – just because they use her doesn’t mean she belongs to them." She beckoned him close, then kissed his cheek and held him tight. "You are not my little boy anymore, Stefan, but you are becoming a fine man. Whatever you do, my child, you will always have a home here, hmm? Do not forget that."
Stefan cleared his throat and gave her another hug, squeezing tight. "I won’t Maja. Thank you."
"Get on now, then. Before someone wakes up and I have to endure a bunch of squawking. Men get on women for fussing." She rolled her eyes, then patted his cheek fondly. "Hurry it up, boy. It’ll take you quite some time to catch up to him."
"I don’t even know which way he went," Stefan said, reality crashing down. Another thought struck him. "Killian!"
"You leave Killian to me. He is still very much a boy." She frowned. "This is no trip for him, especially…well…you and Sasha will have much to talk about, hmm?" She grinned at him, and Stefan could feel his cheeks turn bright red.
"Maja!"
She clucked at him. "Stop stalling. Get a move on. Think for a bit and I’m sure you’ll know where he’s gone. Perhaps Lost Licht will point the way, hmm? I’m off to bed, then. Blessing of the Light." The last words were barely above a whisper, almost shocking to hear – no one dared to say such things.
Planting one last kiss on her cheek, Stefan whispered a goodbye and raced up the ladder to fetch his things. On his bed, sure enough, Maja had packed all that he could possibly need – including all the things he would never have thought of. Heart racing, Stefan discarded the boots he wore around the village and slipped into the knee-high, fur-lined boots made for snow and ice. He blinked rapidly to see she’d given him Reimund’s fur-lined cloak rather than his own wool. Wrapping up, shouldering his pack, Stefan quickly clambered back down the stairs.
The main room was empty, Maja having gone off to bed as she had said she would. Throat tight, Stefan whispered a soft goodbye to the room and then bolted. His heart felt as though it were going to come right out of his chest as he strode briskly to the stables and readied Reiterei. The horse pushed at him, curious but ever obedient.
It was late, not the best time to travel, but he had the energy and a lot of ground to cover – though he still wasn’t certain which way Sasha would have gone. He frowned in thought as he led Reiterei out of the stable and across the village. At the gate, he nodded to the guards on duty – ignoring their curious looks, shaking his head as they finally gave in and asked – and left the village behind.
He was actually doing it. Going after Sasha. What would Sasha say? Do? He mounted Reiterei and rode off down the path. At the intersection he paused, thinking. When Sasha had ridden off, Stefan had barely been capable of paying attention – but he did remember which direction Sasha had gone, mostly because part of him had wanted to chase after him and demand to know why Sasha had kissed him.
Turning Reiterei onto the left path, Stefan struggled to figure out where Sasha was going. He would have to make good time tonight to even hope of catching up to him, assuming he could in fact find him.
What was in this direction? Gold Rock was toward the north, Raven Knoll a bit more to the south…but Sasha would not know about those. The towns would mean nothing to him. Sasha would care about…Sents. Of course. He’d killed one Great Sentinel! The Wanderer. Before that, he’d been heading toward Swallowtail and Oak Hill. Which meant he’d probably changed his course to find the Wanderer? Now he was back on course, heading for the Great Wall and the Great Sentinel that would be guarding a portion of it.
Possibly. That was his best guess, so he would go with it. Urging Reiterei to a faster pace, Stefan turned her northward as the path split again. This would take them toward Raven Knoll, though at the last he would curve further west along the road that eventually led to the Great Wall and the Great Sentinel guarding it.
Lost Light willing, he would encounter Sasha along the way. At the very least, hopefully he would find a dead Great Sentinel and some indication of Sasha’s next direction.
Ideally, he would not encounter any Sents on his journey. He could use the sword at his hip, but it was meant for newborns, babies, and the youngest children if there was no other recourse.
Pushing back his fear of Sents, Stefan focused on his goal – find Sasha. After that…Stefan really didn’t know. Except that his goal then would change to stay with Sasha.
It took him seven days, which was actually less than he’d anticipated. He was ready to fall over. How did Sasha travel like this?
Stefan almost couldn’t believe it when he saw Sasha's black mare. She stood quietly before the Great Wall, covered in a thick horse blanket.
Not too far away was the corpse of a Great Sentinel. The sight of it was still surreal – the Great Sentinels were hundreds of years old. No one knew how long a Sent could live, or if there was even a limit. Most surmised they were immortal, others said it was probably close to that.
This one was dead. Once he was able to draw close and actually look, Stefan could see it had most likely bled to death – long gashes ran the length of its body, smaller ones along its leg. More blood, now frozen, covered its snout and mouth, a lurid black-red pool beneath the slashed throat.
Stefan shook his head in wonder and turned his horse away from the corpse, back towards Chestno. As he drew close, he realized there was a doorway in the wall – it was open just the barest crack.
Pushing it open, Stefan immediately dropped his pack and raced to where Sasha lay awkwardly on the floor. He was paler than usual, cold to the touch. As though he’d tried to get to cover before collapsing, but hadn’t managed to light a fire or even get his bedding out.
He almost laughed – this was going to be the third time he had to help Sasha after collapsing, though Killian had helped the first time and Maja the second. Smiling briefly, though he could not entirely ignore his embarrassment with certain memories ever ready to torment him, Stefan set to work.
The hardest part was Sasha’s boots – snugly laced, reaching his thighs, and they seemed all but frozen. Slowly he managed it though, and tossed them aside, then set about stripping off the wet clothing, ignoring his own burning cheeks as his eyes lingered overlong on every bit of flesh bared. He turned his head away as he pulled off Sasha’s pants, but his eyes were traitorous and snuck a quick, furtive glance before embarrassment got the better of him.
Somehow the men in the village had never mattered. Stefan had seen them in the bathhouse a million times and he’d never felt so much as a shred of what he felt looking at Sasha now.
Who was cold but thankfully not dangerously – he was pale, but Stefan thought that had more to do with the fighting than the temperature. Tossing the wet clothes aside to tend to later, he quickly gathered his own bedroll as well as Sasha’s, setting them out and then laboriously moving Sasha – sleeping so hard he nearly seemed dead – onto them before covering the man with both their cloaks as well as the extra blanket Maja had packed with his things – a thick, heavy quilt that would ordinarily be an unnecessary burden but in these freezing temperatures he was only grateful.
Shivering, Stefan dug into his bags and pulled out a spare cloak – not as nice as the one he’d given Sasha, but it would do to collect…what was that in the corner?
Frowning, Stefan tugged at the handle of the door he had not noticed until then – he nearly fell over when his weight unbalanced, not having expected the door to actually give.
It was a storage room. The smell of must and wood washed over him. There was just enough light from the other room to see a bit, and his eyes widened at what he saw – a large chest. One corner was neatly stacked with firewood.
What was this place?
Shaking his head, setting the mystery aside for when there was time to puzzle it out, Stefan quickly gathered up the firewood and took it back into the main room. A few minutes later he had a steady fire going – in a pit that seemed made for precisely that purpose; there was even a hole in the roof for the smoke.
When the room began to warm, Stefan went outside to tend the horses, seeing they were warm enough and feeding them.
Back inside, he strode back to the storage room and the large trunk. It took him a few tries to manage the fastenings in the dim light, but when he finally threw the lid back he crowed in delight – bedding! Furs, thick blankets, a heavier bedroll…
Half an hour later, he had Sasha well and truly settled, his color already beginning to come back. Content, Stefan sat down and finally allowed both his happiness at finding Sasha and his exhaustion to strike him – both conspired to drive him to first sit down, and then hesitantly lie, beside Sasha. Lulled by the heat of the flames, the warm furs, the presence of the man he had been hunting for several days, Stefan drifted off to sleep.
When he woke, it was because of a chill – he’d only wrapped up in his cloak, not quite willing to share the blankets when Sasha was naked beneath them. The fire had all but died, and Stefan forced himself up and slowly set about stoking it back up.
He froze at the sound of movement, shoulders hunching as he turned to watch and wait.
Sasha sat up with a low groan, hand going to his head, raking his hair from his face. He blinked. Blinked again. Slowly turned to look at Stefan, and stared in silence.
"Umm…" Stefan bit his lip, realizing abruptly he had no idea what to say.
"I seem to wake up naked around you an awful lot," Sasha said dryly. He sighed. "What are you doing here, Stefan?"
"I’m coming with you," Stefan said, forcing himself to meet Sasha’s gaze, to stare into those dark gold eyes that seemed suddenly to make breathing difficult.
Sasha frowned. "No."
"It’s a little late now – I’m already here," Stefan replied, the words flowing without his permission. "Besides, you obviously need help. Do you always pass out after every fight?"
"Perhaps," Sasha said slowly, narrowing his eyes. "However, I’ve survived just fine on my own. Having a man who is barely out of boyhood would not help."
Stefan flushed. "I want to help – however I can. You’re trying to make a difference. You kill Sents! I…if a complete stranger can come in and do that, why can’t I?" He dropped his gaze. "Maybe…maybe what else you-you said…what you did is true too." His face felt like it was on fire. "I don’t…I mean…that’s not why I came. I-I know I’m just a kid, with…all that. There’s no way you’d want a dumb kid…but I do want to save Schatten. I never realized it was possible before."
Sasha made a sound like a pained groan. "I give up. Fire and ash, you are the most scorching—" He ran a hand over his face. "What is Maja going to do when she finds you gone?"
"She packed my things."
"Liar."
Stefan glared. "I am not! Maja gave me her approval – she knew before I did I wanted to go, I think."
"That sounds like Maja," Sasha said with a sigh. "You have no idea what you’re getting into, Stefan."
"I want to help – even if that’s only picking you up when you pass out."
Sasha shook his head. "I've managed to survive through twenty adult Sents and five Great Sents, Stefan."
"What!" Stefan choked. "Five? You—you—you’ve killed five?"
"Yes," Sasha replied, laughing softly. "Though I will admit it is nice not to wake up half-frozen and covered in snow." He snorted. "Even if I do wind up naked a lot."
Stefan’s cheeks burned more than ever. "I—I’m sorry."
"No need," Sasha said calmly. "Stefan…I don’t plan to stop at Great Sentinels. I am going to kill them, then the Holy Sentinel…and Lord Teufel."
"That…that’s impossible," Stefan breathed.
Sasha glowered at something only he could see. "No, it’s not. However, it will be difficult. The duty is mine, no one else’s. You should go home."
"I don’t want to," Stefan. "This is where I want to be."
Silence fell, and Stefan’s tension increased to the point he thought he’d burst. Maybe he should just go.
"Stefan…"
"Don’t tell me I can’t. I want to help," Stefan replied tightly before Sasha could tell him to go home again.
Sasha sighed and shoved back a strand of hair that had fallen in his face. "Fine. You will regret it, Stefan, but you may stay. Far be it for me to fight with a stubborn youth." He smiled briefly. "I know all too well what it’s like to be one – there was no arguing with me, either. Not at that age…"
Relief flooded through him, and only then did Stefan realize just how tense he’d been. "Thank you."
Sasha grunted. "Don’t thank me yet, Stefan. Just understand that you can go home any time."
"I won’t," Stefan said. Silence fell and he started to grow nervous again. There was something more to be said…to be done? He didn’t even know how to go about that – and Sasha…Sasha had only been scaring him off. "Are you hungry?" he finally asked, not knowing what else to say or do. He reached out to stoke the fire – and jumped when a hand tightened around his wrist. Stefan looked up and started to ask what was wrong, but it tumbled out a startled cry as he was yanked forward.
When the world held still again, Stefan found he was under the blankets – under Sasha. A naked Sasha. Mercy of the Lost Light he was going to pass out.
"Now," Sasha said slowly. He was braced on his hands, which were on either side of Stefan’s head. His dark, fiery hair spilled down, just short of brushing Stefan’s face. Those dark gold eyes burned as they watched him. "As to the second half of what you said…"
"S-second half?" Stefan squeaked.
Sasha lowered his head, so close Stefan wanted to panic. This wasn’t…what he’d expected at all. "Yes. What was it you said? That I wouldn’t want you?"
Was it possible for a face to get so hot? Stefan rather thought the fire would feel cold next to the heat of his face. "I—"
He didn’t get a chance to say anything more, his words turning into a startled whimper as Sasha’s mouth crashed down on his, flooding him with a dark and spicy taste as heady as the scent that clung to him. Hot, fierce, leaving Stefan once more with the feeling that he was being devoured. What was he supposed to do?
In the next moment though Sasha broke the kiss, gold eyes blazing. "Stefan – a dead man would want you. Fire and ash! You should go home, Stefan."
"I…" Stefan untangled his arms from the blankets and shyly, hesitantly, rested them on Sasha’s hips. "I don’t want to go home."
"You’re an idiot," Sasha said, but with a hint of a smile. He leaned down to kiss him again, but this time it was slow, easy…Stefan felt as though he was being explored. His fingers tightened unconsciously on Sasha’s hips as he began to respond, imitating what Sasha did, heart pounding so fast he couldn’t bear it.
Then Sasha shifted slightly, and a hand was stroking his chest, tugging at the laces of his shirt. Cool air touched his chest, making him gasp into Sasha’s mouth, but almost immediately it was replaced by the burning touch of Sasha’s fingers.
Hot, so hot. He could barely stand it.
Sasha broke the kiss and Stefan gasped for air – for sanity. He got neither as soft lips trailed across his cheek, his jaw, along his throat. "Are you certain, Stefan?"
Stefan groaned, twisting restlessly, shocked by a heat that was familiar and foreign all at once, that said more plainly than words that Sasha was far from disinterested. He tilted his head up, unconsciously begging for another kiss. Sasha gave it, returning to those devouring, dizzying kisses that left Stefan aching and hungry.
"I will take that for a yes," Sasha murmured against his mouth before returning to the kisses, his touch increasing, becoming maddening, and Stefan gave up doing anything but feeling.
Part Two
Shadows are proof of light
~Words of Licht
Shadows are proof of light
~Words of Licht
Eight
Sasha woke slowly, as though sleep did not want to let him go – but as awareness came, he wondered if perhaps it was his conscience trying to keep him asleep. His fingers slid across soft, smooth skin as he sat up, and he could not resist letting them linger despite the guilt that filled him.
He reached out to brush a strand of hair from Stefan’s cheek, tracing the line of a strong cheekbone. Stefan looked good thoroughly sated, fast asleep and unconsciously pressing closer.
Too good. Nor did he like the possessiveness that swept through him at the thought that he was the one who’d put that sated look there, the one who’d worn Stefan out. The one to introduce Stefan to such things.
With a rough sound Sasha hauled himself out of the pile of blankets and stoked the fire, then found and pulled on his clothes. Carefully ignoring the sleeping temptation calling him back to bed, he rifled through packs and slowly put together a meal – he had no idea of the time, though by the light it looked to be roughly midday.
Fire and ash, what had he been thinking? Sasha scrubbed his face and sighed. Why had he given in? He snorted – because obviously he hadn’t been thinking. Stefan had come after him. Foolishly, naively…but not wholly ignorantly…and with Maja’s blessing. That was interesting. More than anything, that Maja approved – for she, at least, probably understood all the possible consequences – had persuaded him to take that last step.
His eyes slid unbidden to the tangle of blankets, raking over the sleeping form. Whoever well and truly caught Stefan would be the most fortunate man in the world. Sasha’s mouth twisted at the jealousy and unhappiness that welled up in him.
Furiously he poked at the fire, snarling silently at images and memories that rose up unbidden of the last time he’d felt this strongly about anyone. He was done. No longer was he going to dwell on the past.
Still – it had taught him how stupid it was to get that attached to someone. Never again, he’d vowed. Never again would he say…
I love you.
You’re up to something. Are you worried about the appointment?
…What? Why…why are you laughing?
Come on, really. What are you up to? You’re usually more creative than this, though. Misha tried the same thing yesterday, did you know? I guess I forgot to tell you.
Misha? He’s a lying, manipulative bastard.
Yes. You’re a smart, clever bastard. So why all this ridiculousness? You know I’ll appoint you.
I’m not joking. I’m perfectly serious. I—why would you think I’m lying?
Men don’t love men, not the way you’re trying to play it.
That’s absurd and you know it.
You’re the one being absurd. Stop playing these games.
I’m not playing games! The fortune teller said I’d fall in love with you. It’s fate!
Ha! Now I know you’re up to something. Tell me what you’re scheming, I’ll help you.
…I’m serious…
Did my sister put you up to this? That would be like her, of course. Come on, let’s go back to the party.
But…I…I’ll follow you in a moment. There is something else I have to do first.
Suit yourself….no more games. Not this kind.
I will never mention it again. You have my word.
A soft, sleepy groan stirred Sasha from his thoughts. Tousled, still half-asleep, Stefan propped himself on his elbows and blinked at him. "Sasha?"
There was not a person in all the world capable of resisting that. Stifling a groan of his own, Sasha crawled across the space between them and sank his fingers into Stefan’s hair, holding him in place for a kiss. Sweet, eager and pliant, Stefan was so addictive it was disconcerting. When he had experience behind him, the boy – the man – would be nothing less than fatal. Sasha thought he truly hated whoever finally staked a permanent claim…but there was deep satisfaction in knowing he had staked the first claim.
Stefan moaned into his mouth, and his hands landed shyly but firmly on Sasha’s shoulders, fingers tight in the fabric of his shirt. "Sasha…"
"I thought you would be sleeping for a while yet," Sasha murmured against his mouth before biting down on his bottom lip, soothing the nip with his tongue before taking another kiss, exploring every crevasse of Stefan’s sweet, warm mouth. "You were quite exhausted."
That flush was cute, and Sasha chuckled softly as he pressed kisses to the heated cheeks.
"You’re dressed."
Sasha paused, and looked up, startled by the words – then he laughed and pressed Stefan back into the blankets, straddling him, smoothing his hand over one hip, up his side, over his chest. "So I am. Are you hoping to change that?" He nuzzled one burning cheek.
"S-Sasha!" Stefan twisted and bucked against the knowing touches.
"Youth," Sasha said with a soft chuckle. "To have such energy again..." Sadness welled up at the thought that he’d never had such energy. He buried it by taking another kiss, swallowing Stefan’s eager gasps and moans. "It would be best not to, sweet." He let his hand explore lower, stroking and caressing, teasing and tormenting. "You will already have quite the time riding a horse for the next day or so."
Stefan groaned, head falling back. "That…I could never…Sasha…"
Sasha lapped at his throat, unable to resist such a pretty offer. "I suppose if the world has waited this long to be saved, it can wait a day more, hmm? If you do not like my clothes, perhaps you should remove them."
Cheeks still burning but his eyes dark with need, want, Stefan immediately set to clumsily but determinedly helping to remove Sasha’s clothes, his touches like the sweetest torture. Sasha leaned down to take another taste of that sweet, drugging mouth, shunting his thoughts and doubts aside to enjoy what was before him. The present, he reminded himself. Nothing else.
*~*~*~*
"So what is so special about Raven Knoll?" Sasha asked. "I did not have much time to learn of this country before I came here." More accurately, knowledge was simply lost. Even Raz had not had much to offer; Licht had always been reclusive.
Stefan launched into a recital of all he knew, eager to share knowledge despite the grimness of their quest and some of the facts he related. Sasha refused to think about how good it felt to think their quest.
"Schatten is a land of fate, and many people seek to know their fate ahead of time. A few of the smaller towns have a priest or two…but those who truly seek to know what the future will bring travel either to Gold Rock or Raven Knoll. Both cities boast holy temples and priests blessed by Lord Teufel with the ability to see a person’s fate.
"Gold Rock is smaller. There are some who say it was Lost Licht’s favorite place in the whole of Schatten, and that is why the rock which gives the city its name shines like gold. All are forbidden to visit the Field of the Rock, but many go each year to gaze upon it from afar and remember that Licht fell for us, slain by his brothers."
Stefan shrugged. "But so far as reading fate is concerned, Raven Knoll is vastly superior to Gold Rock. It’s in Raven Knoll that Unheilvol resides. It is the holiest of temples, and has been there since the day Lost Licht created Lord Teufel. Once, it was his most favored place, as Lost Licht favored Gold Rock. Now, it is the seat of prophetic power. All who feel themselves capable of hearing their true and complete fate go there."
"Prophecy," Sasha said with a grimace. He wanted nothing to do with scorching prophecy. All his life…one thing after another dictated…
You will fall in love w—
Snarling, Sasha cut the thought off. No more. Never again. He was not subject to the dictates of prophecy.
He just wished someone had seen fit to tell him that sooner.
"So tell me more about this Unheilvol."
Stefan nodded and resumed speaking. "The temple is carved from obsidian, and none but the priests may enter it except at night. Priests are born with the mark of Fate, the Crest of Teufel." He reached up to touch the center of his forehead. "A black circle, right here."
The crest of Teufel was a black circle within a gold one. Shadow born of light. Priests should not have the power of the shadow alone, but he could hardly expect them to be proper priests.
"What exactly is required to hear one’s fortune?"
"Gold," Stefan replied. "Blood. Strength. To hear one’s fate is a terrible burden."
"Yes," Sasha said softly. "It is."
Stefan looked at him, a deep frown overtaking his face. "You sound sad when you say that. Do you have similar temples in your homeland? Did you hear your fate?"
"Something like that," Sasha said, fighting back the bitterness that tried to well up. "These days, I prefer to decide my own fate, no matter what anyone tells me."
He almost smiled at the confused look that overtook Stefan’s face. "Everyone is subject to the threads of fate."
"Not everyone," Sasha said firmly. He moved his horse closer to Stefan’s and halted them both, leaning in close to kiss Stefan softly. He was weak, and foolish, but he couldn’t remember when he hadn’t been. Chuckling at Stefan’s red face, Stefan stroked one flushed cheek and then forced himself away. "So what has this city to offer besides fortunes?"
Stefan blinked, as if gathering his thoughts, before finally replying. "They say the temple has a great library, though of course only the priests have access. There is a woman back home who was born in Raven Knoll. She said she was glad to leave it, though it is a beautiful city."
"Did she hear her fate?" Sasha asked.
"Yes…she will not speak of it."
Sasha grunted. "I would imagine not. No one should know their fate." His fingers twitched on the reins, fighting the urge to touch his chest. It ached. He wondered how much time he had left. Not that it mattered; he would make certain it was just enough. "What about information on the Great Wall? That is what I seek."
"The Great Wall?" Stefan blinked at him, brow furrowing in thought. "I…the Great Wall is just there. It’s as old as the Sentinels. No one knows anything about them or the Wall."
"I just bet." Sasha smiled briefly. "I think we should have our fortune told." He winked and then urged his horse to a faster pace, laughing at Stefan’s demands for an explanation.
Black and white.
All he could see was black and white.
Snow covered everything. It had started falling yesterday evening and not stopped for more than a moment. If he was not so used to trekking through it back home, he probably would have been stranded.
Stefan, much to his amusement, had scarcely seemed to notice. The benefits, Sasha supposed, of knowing nothing but a hard life.
The houses were covered with snow, so too the streets. Every available surface was smothered in white. It had stopped only recently, and given that it was quite late, it would be some hours yet before any of the snowfall was cleared away.
Wearily Sasha trekked along. They should have probably spent the night camping again, but he wanted rest and sleeping where Sents could attack at any time for more nights than strictly necessary was not what he considered restful.
A building that was unmistakably an inn came into view. He passed a coin and his reins to Stefan. "Stable the horses, give that to the stableman. I will get us lodgings." The sound of their feet, the hooves of their horses, was painfully loud in the silence of the sleeping town.
Somewhere a bell rang, a clear, sharp sound. Sasha thought it sounded melancholy, and chalked the idiotic thought up to exhaustion.
"You are a shattered mirror…"
Sasha stopped short and turned sharply around, seeking out the speaker.
The voice was rough, ragged, the words slurred.
A shadow shifted, something crunching in the snow. Then it moved into the light of a tavern lamp. Sasha loosed his sword in its sheath but did not draw it. He narrowed his eyes at the sad figure in the snow.
Nearby, Sasha heard Stefan gasp, move. He motioned Stefan to stay back, then turned his attention back to the strange speaker.
He was dressed in the filthy ragged remnants of a robe and a cloak that looked as though it was fit only for burning. His hair hung in knotted clumps around his head, with a ragged beard in even worse condition. The stench of alcohol and blazes knew how long without a bath poured off the man. Sasha wrinkled his nose, and rested a hand cautiously on his sword as the vagabond drew close.
Still he waited, though, because there was a…melody…beneath the rough, drunken slur of the wastrel’s voice. Perhaps he was simply tired, for he could not imagine why he was hearing anything of note in a drunkard’s voice. "What do you want?"
"The boy…darkness. The pure, unbroken darkness of a moonless night. You…shattered mirror." The man stepped closer, the lamp light falling fully across his face.
His eyes looked black, their color unable to overcome the dark. Something told Sasha they were dark anyway. A deep violet, perhaps. Sasha watched the man implacably, and spoke in a tone that had once sent people scurrying from his presence. "I repeat, sir, what do you want?"
"Shattered mirror," the man said again. "Pieces scattered everywhere, each one reflecting something different. Your like I have never seen before. What are you?" He stepped closer still, and Sasha shot a hand out to shove him back.
Instead the man grabbed his wrist and held it fast, the strength there startling. Sasha froze, feeling…something…where the man touched him.
Something more than a sudden need for a bath, though he was now feeling that more strongly than ever. "Unhand me at once."
"You burn," the man said quietly, and this close Sasha could see his eyes were indeed dark violet. "Shattered mirror warmed by the sunlight." Moving faster than Sasha would have thought he could, the man reached up and yanked the hood from his head. Sasha’s hair tumbled free of the loose binding in which he’d put it, spilling over his shoulders in a messy tangle.
Violet eyes widened. "He knows you. So faint the memory, like the last dying ember of a fire. Yes, fire." Dirty fingers reached up to softly touch a strand of his hair. "A shattered mirror reflecting countless flames."
"Get away from me," Sasha said, and shoved the man back, watching as he collided with the wall.
If it caused the man any pain, he gave no indication, merely settled his filthy robes and once more stared at Sasha. "What do you seek, shattered one? To know which reflection belongs to you?" The man chuckled, and the sound of it struck Sasha to his core. That…it wasn’t a melody…more like…there was something more to the man’s voice. Something hidden. There was also sadness in it, bitterness…hatred. Feelings Sasha knew all too well. "Who are you?"
The man threw his head back and laughed, rage and pain filling the street, making Sasha’s chest throb. "I am no one. Nothing but what you see before you."
"He…he’s…" Stefan suddenly spoke up. He came up beside Sasha and pointed. "Look."
Sasha followed his finger, and after a moment figured out what he was indicating.
A black circle in the middle of the man’s forehead. "You’re a priest."
"Nothing but a drunkard growing dangerously sober," the man said with something that was probably intended to be a smile. He turned his eyes, far too bright and alert to belong to a drunk, upon Stefan. "The darkness of a moonless night. Anything can happen when nothing can be seen. Hidden by unrelenting black, what would you do?" He reached out a hand.
Stefan recoiled, fingers catching Sasha’s arm, unconsciously seeking protection.
Shoving Stefan back, Sasha pulled a couple of coins from his purse and tossed them at the man, somehow unsurprised when he easily caught them, biting down lightly on the metal to test their quality.
"Much obliged, but I do not take coin for free," the man said. "I’m not so much a wastrel as that." He tucked the coins away and peered at Sasha. "You seek—"
The sound of raucous laughter spilling from the nearby tavern cut into whatever he’d been about to say. The stranger recoiled, scurrying back into the shadows. Silence regained control of the empty street as the door fell shut again.
Sasha stared at the man who had just left the tavern, a cold feeling crawling up his spine. He touched the hilt of his sword, then slid instead to his whip, reassured by the smooth leather long worn to fit his hand, the blessing of Zhar Ptitka upon it thrumming through, causing an ache but also warming him. He tugged the hood back up over his hair and face.
Rather than pass them by, the stranger paused. "Gentlemen…strangers should not be out at such hours." His eyes slid to the shadows. "I see our resident gutter trash has waylaid you. Pay him no mind. Have you a place to stay?"
If there was one thing Sasha knew never to trust, it was such immediate solicitousness. He took a closer look at the stranger, immediately spying the tell-tale black mark in the middle of his forehead. The stranger was about his height, with short dark hair and pale eyes, set in features too sharp and severe to be considered handsome. Sasha had the impression the man was intimidating to most, his station as priest notwithstanding. The robes he wore stopped just short of the ground, voluminous and probably quite warm. Tailored, rather than hanging loose on his frame, with a fine corded belt wrapped around his hips, the ends trailing halfway down the front.
Sasha knew a rat when he saw one.
Fire and ash, he just wanted to go to bed.
The vagabond laughed, and the sound of it was colder than the winter night surrounding them. "I might be gutter trash, now, but I wasn't always." he said. "You might wear my robes, and stand in my place in that black pit, but that does not mean you are suddenly all that I ever was." His voice grew stronger, louder. "You are a better politician, and you’ve a tongue made for licking boots – but you are still a poor priest. To worship and serve a god requires humility, respect. Two terms you have never bothered to learn. You read the shadows like a halfwit and you always will. That is your fate, and I see it as clearly as I do the fresh snow."
"Your words are meaningless, drunkard," the priest snapped. He lifted a hand, and Sasha felt magic thrum in the air.
Acting on instinct, Sasha moved to stand between the drunk and the priest, summoning spells to his mind, ready to cast. "I thank you for attempting to interfere, good priest," he said calmly. "We are managing just fine on our own."
The priest’s lips curled. "I am sorry that so shortly upon arrival you meet the shame of our city. Once a great priest…he went mad. But that was his fate. To live a cursed life."
"Perhaps we can come by the temple to see how a proper priest behaves."
"Do, please. If you are willing to hear your fate…"
Sasha smirked. "Quite. I bid you good night, priest."
"Good night, stranger…not of this land. Come to me at sunset tomorrow."
"As you wish."
Nodding, the priest departed.
Sasha waited until he was well and truly gone, then turned back to the vagabond. "Who and what are you?"
"Cursed," the man said hoarsely. "A voice in my head, never silent. Alcohol dulls it." He locked eyes with Sasha. "I need no magic to see the fate of a man. All futures are laid bare to me. It is but one aspect of my curse. Yet you…no clear future do I see. Only scattered pieces of a shattered mirror. Thousands of glittering shards, each reflecting something different. A thousand different fates, and more besides."
Sasha’s gold eyes gleamed, the ring on his finger flashing briefly in the dark night. "Chaos." He held out his hand, ring shining.
"The voice is loud, it drowns my thoughts," the vagabond moaned. He stared a moment longer, violet eyes nearly black with confusion, then with another soft moan placed his hand in Sasha’s. He gasped. "Threads…no threads of fate bind you."
"Nor will they ever," Sasha said. He had been quite firm about not wanting Stefan along. Even now, he wished Stefan were somewhere safe. This man, though…the pain and anger he wore like a second skin… "Stay with me, and perhaps your own will begin to fray."
The man closed his eyes and nodded wearily, slowly taking his hand back. "I would like that."
Sasha nodded. "Come with us then. You can start with a bath."
Mouth twisting in something that almost resembled a genuine smile, the man nodded and followed as Sasha turned to lead the way.
"What’s your name?" Stefan asked, his voice startling after he’d stayed quiet for so long.
The man stared at him, then flashed a tired grin. "Not so long ago, I was Friedrich Pankraz, Lord High Priest of Unheilvol, Sacred Seer Blessed by Lord Teufel. But when I was a boy, before I was alone, the woman I considered my mother called me ‘Fritz’."
"Fritz, then. I am Stefan, he is Sasha."
"A pleasure. If you were serious about that bath, it will be even more of a pleasure."
Sasha snorted. "Oh, I was serious. Baths all around, and then I intend to sleep for a very long time. Then we will talk."
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Date: 2007-05-28 01:54 pm (UTC)That Stefan and Sasha came together so suddenly was unexpected, but oh so welcome. XD
Once again: Maja = <3 The very simple "Maja cackled." line had me genuinely LOLing.
I am verra much in lurve with this story. ^_^
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Date: 2007-05-28 02:25 pm (UTC)And Fritz!!! *flying tackle glomps* Much, much, much love for Fritz. ^________^!!
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Date: 2007-05-28 02:32 pm (UTC)Gah! Stefan and Sasha and 'deflowering' and Sasha needs to be knocking it the fuck off and just loveing the damn kid 'cause he ain't going anywhere. Silly flamer.
Yay! I forgot it was monday too. This is a happy surprise. :D
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Date: 2007-05-28 03:05 pm (UTC)^____^
Date: 2007-05-28 03:37 pm (UTC)1. Maja is amazing, and reminds me of my grandmother. She ALWAYS knows.
2. SASHAANDSTEFANZOMGSQUEE.
3. So much love for Fritz!
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Date: 2007-05-28 04:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-28 05:01 pm (UTC)I am seriously hoping that Friz will be around for a while; Sasha needs some sense smacked into him, and Stenfen needs some LOVIN. <3
Wo0t, Mondays are happy again.
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Date: 2007-05-28 05:16 pm (UTC)I see we've have gotten to a fine puree. Will it be set on boil by the next chapter?
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Date: 2007-05-28 05:25 pm (UTC)*laugh* I don't know about boil, but crack will be added for flavor ^__^
Would you like some of your story? Or would you rather just wait until I finish it and see the whole thing?
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Date: 2007-05-28 05:33 pm (UTC)Would you like some of your story? Or would you rather just wait until I finish it and see the whole thing?
My dear, in your own words;
Give up the goods.
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Date: 2007-05-28 05:41 pm (UTC)Goods given up <3
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Date: 2007-05-28 06:55 pm (UTC)Sasha's possessiveness is certainly amusing to read. He's just so cute when he's thinking all these thoughts about claiming his pretty boy.
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Date: 2007-05-28 07:35 pm (UTC)and more mysterious past, which makes me twitch every time we realize WE DON'T KNOW WHO SASHA IS. bah.
and ouch. talk about baggage. while i still think sasha needs to get over it, now i see why he struggles in the first place.
shattered mirror i'm assuming plays into sasha's ability to be chaotic (and i'm not sure how to phrase that better...)
poor fritz. i really hope sasha really can ruin threads of fate, 'cause right now fritz looks like he got screwed. (and i'm still perturbed by how potc III screwed people over, so stop the madness!)
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Date: 2007-05-28 07:40 pm (UTC)Fritz, so far, is totally awesome. I hope he stays totally awesome so I can build myself a Shrine to Fritz. *nod*
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Date: 2007-05-28 09:50 pm (UTC)And I'm wondering about Stefan.... pure darkness.... mmmmmmmmm......... Teufel incarnate? Or Licht incarnate, but is pure darkness that cannot be seen (since that is the opposite of pure light). Mmmm.... Many many questions...
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Date: 2007-05-28 11:04 pm (UTC):doubles squees: They together already!
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Date: 2007-05-28 11:16 pm (UTC)Your writing is fan-freakin-tastic, I must say. There's just so much going on with romance dynamics, pissy gods, and now this very very fabulous fate thing. Interesante...muy interestante.
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Date: 2007-05-29 12:05 am (UTC)please let's hope fritz does not end the same way!
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Date: 2007-05-29 12:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-29 01:15 am (UTC)I'm all curious about this man that Sasha had a past with. And what he has to do with why Sasha is doing what he's doing.
And Maja is awesome.
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Date: 2007-05-29 03:41 am (UTC)Also, Sasha and Steden are finally together! Hurray! Now if we can only convince Sasha that he is the one Stefen wants . . .
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Date: 2007-05-29 08:38 am (UTC)And the fate thing is really interesting, particularly Fritz's curse. I want to see more of him! I love elderly, obscure, drunken men. They always give a story a certain class.
Anyway, much love, and I'm waiting with bated breath for the next chapters.
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Date: 2007-05-29 10:24 am (UTC)Fritz is... interesting. And ooh, Sasha's chaos is starting to do its job, it seems :)
I can't wait for next Monday, even though I know that will only mean this shinyness will be over even sooner :(
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Date: 2007-05-29 04:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-29 08:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-29 10:11 pm (UTC)Heh. I didn't know 'til recently that he apparently has so much in common with this chick. Or seemed to, anyway. I will say the next chapter is from his POV ^_^