Companionship can be many things - 1. A Welcome Companion

“I understand your family lives close to the Jagged Edges Ravine, Guardsman?”

“Yes, Captain,” Jonne replied, keeping his face neutral.

“And you’re familiar with the lay of the land along the border?”

“Very familiar with the area within ten leagues of the holding, but I’ve roamed several stretches of land further east.”

“Has your family been harmed or fled due to the Karsite incursions?” Bandits coming north out of Karse was a common enough occurrence, and mostly dealt with by having fortified holds in the border area. But for several years those attacks on Valdemar had been augmented by Karsite soldiers either posing as bandits, or pretending to chase bandits and ‘happening’ to do some raiding on their traditional enemies.

“Not as far as I know, Captain. Edgehold is as far away from the border as possible, and the terrain between the mountains and the holding is difficult to traverse due to the ravine. Sharp-edged rocks poke out of the ground everywhere.”

“Yes, this is one of the reasons we have our main camp here. You haven’t visited your family?”

“No, Captain.” There had been plenty of other volunteers for the duty of collecting food from the local holdings in the area. The landholders were willing to provide what they could spare to Valdemar’s Border Guards. Not only for the protection they afforded, but also due to the chits given in return, which entitled holdings to remissions of tax, a benefit more valuable than actual payment.

Jonne could see Captain Trebon expected him to elaborate. “My oldest brothers and I don’t see eye to eye on a few matters.” He snorted inwardly at the understatement. Jagged Edges would be a perfect description of the relationship we had, full of cutting words and hard blows. “My father decided to sponsor me joining the Border Guards, thinking it the easiest solution. I haven’t been home since my mother died six years ago. It’s better that way, Captain.”

“I see. Well, all that matters is you’re familiar with the terrain and have scouting experience. Herald Vanyel has asked for someone to assist him.”

Jonne gulped. “The Herald-Mage wants me to help him?”

Captain Trebon didn’t look too happy at the reminder that Herald Vanyel Askhevron was more than a normal Herald of Valdemar, but they all knew the border and the Guards were kept safe by the mage-skills of the man with the unusual silver eye and the stark white stripes in his long black hair. Rumor had it the white hair expanded with each Karse-sent demon the Herald fought.

Jonne had admired the handsome man from afar, but the stern and preoccupied demeanor of the Herald precluded any kind of closer contact. When their sergeant asked for people with knowledge of the area, Jonne spoke up, without knowing why Captain Trebon requested this. After all, such requests weren’t unusual, if there were no local guides to be found.

“Herald Vanyel is planning to set up warnings and traps to discourage Karsite bandits from roaming freely. He needs to be shown where the most likely access trails are. He also wants to know which paths inside Valdemar are widely used by the locals, in order to avoid inconveniencing our own people. He tells me the magical traps won’t harm us, although I’m not sure how he’ll achieve that.”

Jonne’s mind was running in excited circles. I’m going to spend time in the company of the most handsome man I’ve ever seen. How will I avoid making a fool of myself?

“Now, in addition to scouting out the area, you must take on another duty related to the Herald-Mage. He’s been out here for almost two years, and I’m getting concerned about his health. I’ve already made sure he’s not involved in any of the general camp tasks, but like all Heralds he insists on taking care of himself. However, I want him to rest as much as possible, so he’s fit and able to protect us and help defeat our enemies. Do you understand, Guardsman?”

“Yes, Captain. I’ll be happy to offer my services to Herald-Mage Vanyel in whatever capacity you or he need. I’ve heard about what he’s done, and I can see why you want to take good care of him. He’s our best guarantee of not being killed by Karsite demons in our sleep.”

“Quite right, Guardsman. The Herald should be in his tent now. Go and introduce yourself, and I’ll tell Sergeant Larant about your new duties.”

“Yes, Captain!” Jonne saluted Captain Trebon and left his tent. Before he could lose his nerve, he made his way to the space where Vanyel’s tent was pitched at a distance from most of the other tents, though, of course, within the perimeter of the camp. He’d heard enough gossip to realize no one cared to be too close to the Demon-Slayer, in case he suddenly lashed out with his magic.

A white horse stood next to the tent, but you had to have lived in a cave all your life not to know what a blue-eyed white horse was in the Kingdom of Valdemar. When Jonne got closer the Companion raised her head and gave him a level look. He wondered whether or not to speak to her, but before he could open his mouth she tossed her mane in a horse-like manner and went back to dozing. Clearly, she wasn’t bothered about him approaching.

He pushed the tent flap aside and saw the dark-haired Herald engrossed in a map. “Hello. You're the Herald-Mage, aren't you?” Jonne wanted to slap himself when the shy question left his mouth. As if the white uniform and the Companion outside didn’t proclaim the status of the man who raised his head and smiled at him. The welcoming grin was enough to make Jonne’s heart leap into his mouth.

"Yes, are you—“

“Guardsman Jonne. Your guide. I was born not half a league from here,” Jonne managed to get out before he lost himself in the silver eyes of the handsome Herald.

“Then you, friend Jonne, are the direct answer to my prayers,” Vanyel said and invited him to sit down, so they could look at the map together.

Jonne was happy to be seated before his knees buckled. Later, whenever he recalled the first meeting with the famous Herald-Mage, he could never figure out how he managed to keep calm and have a rational conversation about maps, scouting and foiling Karsite soldiers disguised as bandits.

He only left the tent twice that evening. Once to fetch food for both of them, and the second time at the Herald’s request.

“This has been a most useful talk, Jonne. I’m hoping we can go scouting together tomorrow morning. So perhaps we should get some sleep.”

“Is there anything else I can do for you, Herald Vanyel?” Like share your bed? Ha, as if I’d ever be lucky enough to do that.

“Well, if you could fetch me a bowl of hot water from the camp fire, that would be much appreciated.”

“Of course, no problem.” Later, Jonne chuckled every time he thought of his disappointment over the innocent request. It led to delights he wouldn’t forget as long as he lived.

***

A few years later, thinking back to their meeting, Herald-Mage Vanyel also remembered the encounter with Jonne with pleasure and fondness.

“Hello. You're the Herald-Mage, aren't you?”

Vanyel looked up from the map he was studying, and smiled. He couldn't help it – the diffident, shy smile the Guardsman wore begged to be answered.

"Yes, are you—“

“Guardsman Jonne. Your guide. I was born not half a league from here.”

The guileless expression, the tanned face and thatch of blond hair, the tiny net of humor lines about the thoughtful hazel eyes, all conspired to make Vanyel like this man immediately.

“Then you, friend Jonne, are the direct answer to my prayers,” he said. Only later did the lonely Herald learn what other prayers the Guardsman had an answer for, with the firm encouragement of his Companion Yfandes.

:Jonne. Odd for such a tough fighter to be so diffident, even gentle. Though why he should have been so shy, when he was five years older and had twice my – uh – experience:

:Your reputation, beloved. A living legend came down off his pedestal and looked to him for company.: Yfandes sent him an image of a marble saint-statue hopping out of its niche and wriggling its eyebrows in a come-hither look. There was enough of a tired giggle in her mind-voice to get an equally tired chuckle out of his.

But he sobered again almost immediately. :And that lasted how long? Two months? Three? Certainly not more.:

:You were busy – you had duties – both of you. It was your duties that parted you.:

Van sighed again, realizing he was worn out from five years of continuous duty at the border. He had already been tired when he met Jonne, and he finally admitted to himself, that he and Jonne might not have had even that brief and much needed partnering, if his mindshields hadn’t slipped for a moment, due to a particularly tough day and a slight wound.

Vanyel recalled the situation vividly, sitting on the edge of his bed, his tunic on the small travel chest next to him, while he was trying to remove the dressing on his shoulder with one hand. Jonne came in, bringing Van the bowl of hot water the Herald had requested.

The Guardsman approached slowly, and Vanyel assumed his hesitation was due to an objection to being in the company of a half-naked man, who was rumored to prefer other men for bedfellows. But the moment Jonne touched him, he learned otherwise –

The fighter set the bowl down and said: "Let me help you with that, Herald Vanyel." And before Van could refuse or get his shields back to full, Jonne reached out and removed the dressing on the shallow wound from an enemy knife four days before. Van sat frozen and overwhelmed, while his new friend bathed the graze with gentle hands and pronounced it healed enough to leave open to the air.

And while he touched Vanyel, his desire to let his fingers move on to other places and have Van caress him in return was as plain as a shout in his face.

Even so, the stupefied Herald might not have acted on this unexpected possibility, if Yfandes hadn’t sent him a brief picture of her settling across the entrance to his tent; clearly in order to prevent anyone from disturbing them needlessly. Followed by a wordless admonishment NOT to blow this chance, then a blank as she shielded him out, giving him privacy.

Vanyel gave an involuntary twitch of his shoulders, trying to dispel the shocked feeling of disbelief. Jonne removed his hands with a surprised and slightly worried sound.

Then as Van said, trying to sound casual: “Oh, sorry, it was just a small cramp, my shoulders are all knotted up,” the warm and soothing hands came back and began to massage the top of his shoulders. This time Van deliberately opened the shields on his mind to Jonne's surface thoughts and emotions, and there was absolutely no doubt the Guardsman was physically attracted to him and certainly firmly shay'a'chern-- or 'shaych' that new slang word for same-sex preferences.

As Jonne rubbed the Herald's shoulders with evident pleasure and lust, his disjointed thoughts made Van go weak at the knees.

Gods, I can't believe, I'm touching him – he's so beautiful – I want him – oh, stop fooling yourself, he could have anyone he wanted in his bed, why should he ask you – just be grateful he’s letting you do this – his hair is like silk – if I could just kiss his neck, taste his soft skin – feel his hands on me –

As Jonne got to this part, Van felt him shifting in discomfort. He was kneeling on the bed behind the Herald, and Van knew the cause of the Guardsman's small movements was an unbidden, but undeniable, erection straining against, and uncomfortably constrained by, his breeches.

Vanyel could no longer pretend their need wasn’t mutual, and he reached up to put his hands on top of Jonne's. He slowly moved them down his chest, saying: “I’d be more than pleased, if you would care to extend your attention to the rest of my body, friend Jonne.”

Then he turned around and smiled into the startled, but delighted, face of the man behind him. “And I'm dying to get my hands on your naked body, so why don't you let me remove–” He didn't get any further, because the handsome fighter leaned forward and kissed him.

The Herald smiled at the memory of that kiss, sweet, unassuming and plainly deliriously happy to be invited to share the bed of the man Jonne lusted for the moment he set eyes on him. There was no awkwardness or shame in Jonne, his sexuality was as innocent and natural as a young buck in rut -- and he certainly rode his partner in the same focused and determined way!

Van couldn't help reveling in the delicious recollection of their first pairing, such an unexpected gift answering his needs in every way. But, of course, he also enjoyed the subsequent times they spent together, even though they were few and sometimes hurried, moments of mutual appreciation in a hectic, dangerous and duty-filled life.

But that first night, they had time to savor the desire and their lustful bodies. They undressed each other slowly, running fingers and mouths over warm skin, as it was exposed. Jonne was muscular and well-trained, his body was strong and masculine in a way that made Van ache with desire, and yet, at the same time, the Guardsman dealt gently with his lover.

He stroked Van's rigid phallus, then took him in his mouth and licked, kissed and sucked, until the Herald could no longer contain himself. Van's hoarse cries were muffled by the bedclothes, as he experienced the wonderful sensation of his partner swallowing every drop, emptying him totally and willingly.

Jonne pulled the bedclothes and him down on the canvas covered ground, the bed being too rickety for what he wanted from the Herald. And Havens know I was more than eager to provide him with that, to stand on all fours and let him mount me!

Why should this recollection bother him? There was no harm in it, they were willing, consenting adults, and Jonne was careful and considerate, even in his ardor and determined penetration. He asked Van for some oil, and spent so much time preparing his lover's rear entrance, that Van finally begged to be taken.

I wanted him inside me, filling me...Well, he certainly got what he asked for. Jonne was quite well-endowed, and as the oiled phallus pressed through the aperture and entered him, Van whimpered in equal parts pleasure and pain. But the pain was soon over, once the engorged head was past the initial barrier, the fighter was able to plunge his warm sword deep into the slick tunnel, making them both gasp and moan with shared pleasure.

Again and again Jonne thrust his thick shaft inside Van, his flat, hard stomach hitting the firm buttocks, while he held the slender hips. He did not pause or prolong the ride, but he had the stamina of a stallion in its prime, well, in a way that is what he was.

Van shook his head in amusement, by the time he had finished with me, when he finally spent himself inside me, I was so sore and well-used, that it was a wonder I was able to sit in the saddle the next day.

But that night his body was relaxed and sated from two unexpected climaxes. They both enjoyed the aftermath of their lovemaking, kissing and giving small caresses which signaled they would want to repeat this wonderful experience at soon as possible. Well, and so we did, but this time I was not the only one with a sore behind...

Vanyel grinned, then bit his lip, as he remembered how Jonne reacted to his lover's wish at first. He was worried, even though he trusted me absolutely. For all his experience, he had never had to accommodate anyone of my size. But the Guardsman was determined to try, even though Van immediately withdrew his request.

They were scouting the area, when a sudden rainstorm surprised them. Well, not quite surprised them, they saw it coming in time to seek shelter in a cave, the Guardsman was familiar with. There was even a natural air channel at the back, so they could light a fire and sit in a sheltered niche to one side with the fire in front of them. Yfandes and Jonne's horse, Steady, were around the corner in the main part of the cave, sharing what grain they’d brought as well as armfuls of grass brought in from a nearby clearing.

So, of course we both realized we shouldn’t waste this chance of privacy and intimacy. Jonne turned to Vanyel with such desire and longing in his eyes that the Herald was kissing and caressing his face before he had time to think. And the experienced fighter certainly wasted no time in undressing Van and shedding his own clothes.

They made a primitive bed of their cloaks and blankets, and Jonne produced a small bottle of oil from his backpack and proceeded to prepare Van for full intimacy. But when the Herald sat up and reached for the bottle, saying “Let me return the favor,” the Guardsman stiffened just the tiniest bit, and his eyes dropped in sudden alarm to the large, erect shaft resting against Van's stomach.

Then he took a deep breath and surrendered the oil, and when Vanyel offered to forego the experience, he had been adamant: “I want you, whatever it takes -- just make sure I'm properly prepared.”

Of course, Vanyel had no objections to this request; he made Jonne tuck down in their love nest with his legs under him and his head resting on his arms. Then he began the erotic and delightful process of massaging the tight, warm tunnel with oil and fingers. They had both relieved themselves shortly before they came to the cave, a natural effect of a whole afternoon of riding exercise, but also to avoid having to go out in the subsequent rainstorm. So Van met no resistance, when he slid an oily finger into the exposed opening, and Jonne showed his enjoyment by pushing up against the questing hand. Vanyel widened him slowly and carefully, adding a second and then a third finger, finding the hidden, magic spot, while Jonne moaned and made no effort to hide that he enjoyed the feeling.

But when Vanyel finally withdrew his hand, the Guardsman turned over and reached out for him. “I want us to make love in every possible way tonight.”

The bemused Herald let him position them for mutual oral sex. He already knew Jonne was very skillful with his mouth, and now Van learned his lover also craved the sensual experience of having his manhood enclosed by a wet cave and willing lips. They licked and suckled and caressed each other, sliding fingers into oil-slick tunnels to fondle the sensitive love bumps inside to give as much pleasure as possible.

We both had our work cut out for us, trying to take as much as possible of the erect shafts into our mouths. I enjoy pleasuring a man with lips and tongue; I adore it, when someone does it to me, but simultaneously – ahh that is a game, which can drive me absolutely wild in a very short time!

And Jonne was just the same, relishing the fondling of his genitals, while at the same time receiving a swollen phallus in his own mouth, until they exploded in twin orgasms. On this occasion, however, the Guardsman stopped them before they went over the edge. Instead, Jonne invited Vanyel to use him fully, kneeling with his head and shoulders against the blankets and reaching around to spread his muscular buttocks.

Van oiled his phallus, while he gazed lustfully on the exposed opening, which glistened enticingly. He penetrated the slick aperture carefully; pressing the engorged head of his manhood against the barrier until it slowly gave way and let him enter. The sight of his throbbing member slowly disappearing into the loving embrace of Jonne's experienced tunnel was wonderful, and Van knew he would spend himself immediately if he began moving too soon. So he stood quite still, when he had buried himself inside the tight warmth.

Jonne cried out when the initial breach happened, but soon he begged Van to continue. After being fully penetrated, the fighter was panting heavily, but insisted he could bear the pain. “I love being completely filled, and you feel amazing.” When Vanyel didn’t continue their lovemaking, the Guardsman gave a little wriggle of his hips to indicate his readiness.

The Herald took a deep breath and embarked on the short ride to bliss. He thrust into the willing, beautiful body before him, reveling in the groans of pleasure and acceptance from his partner as he climaxed and spent his seed in another man's rear end for the first time in years.

Vanyel was prepared to withdraw immediately after his orgasm, but Jonne asked him to stay embedded until the last possible moment. When he finally slid out, the Guardsman sighed. “That was wonderful, Van. Easier and much better than I expected. Next time I won't push you so far, before you enter me. I want to enjoy your broadsword for a longer time!”

He gave Van a shy and slightly apologetic smile, and the Herald hastily reassured his lover. “I understand your apprehension, Jonne. After all, you had me feel the same worry when I first touched you and knew your size. I’m glad you don’t regret awarding me this most intimate pleasure.” Glad, ha, more likely ecstatic he even contemplated letting me near him again in that way!

But the handsome fighter was as courageous in this aspect of his life as in battle or the dangerous scouting along the enemy border. He received Van again and again during the subsequent weeks of their short acquaintance, and even teased the embarrassed Herald. “After you, I shall fear no man's sword.”

Van shook his head in amusement; whatever had happened to Jonne, he had no doubt the fighter would embrace life, love and death ardently and with good humor. He certainly embraced me with ardor and made love to me from the full capacity of his generous heart. In fact, the Guardsman was even more diligent in giving than receiving.

As in that sheltered cave – when Jonne had gotten his breath back after Van's attentions, he attacked the Herald with gusto. He toppled Van onto his back, holding him down with his strong body pressed against his lover, so Van could be in no doubt of his desire. His hard manhood rested against his thigh, then his stomach as Jonne kissed him and whispered how much he wanted him. He parted Van's legs, and his shaft moved downward and probed between the Herald's buttocks.

I was helpless – not that I wanted to resist – but he breached my defenses and occupied the castle with one determined push! Jonne had braced himself on both arms and looked down at Van with such eager lust and desire, the memory still warmed the Herald's lonely heart.

Jonne made love to Vanyel for a long time, until both of them were utterly fulfilled and spent – and sore. Van woke the next morning with the fighter's hands caressing his body and whispered hopes of a repeat soon.

I think that may have been the main reason, we were happy together. I never had a moment's doubt he genuinely desired me. I never felt he bedded me for any other reason than he wanted my body and couldn't get enough of it. Once he got me to admit I felt the same, he simply assumed we would make love as often as duty, time and circumstances permitted. And I couldn't resist him; he really was the obvious answer to my prayers....

Vanyel suddenly blushed, as he recalled their relationship had probably been obvious to others as well. Not that he or Jonne let it affect their professional lives, as far as he could judge. The Guardsman was respectful in public, calling him Herald Vanyel and never presuming on his intimate acquaintance with the famous Herald-Mage. He obeyed every order from the officers, stood his watches, and carried out other duties just as everyone else.

But somehow most of his duties became related to Vanyel, not through any request of the latter, it just seemed to happen. At first Van hadn’t noticed, he was simply grateful his camp life seemed to be much easier in many ways, and he had a surprising number of opportunities to be tumbled by Jonne.

At some point he did realize and tried to broach the subject with Captain Trebon. He hinted that perhaps he was becoming a little bit spoilt with a Guardsman being almost exclusively devoted to his welfare. “I’m perfectly capable of looking after my gear, fetching food, and tidying my own tent.”

Captain Trebon hadn’t even smiled at his attempt to joke. He calmly stated he wanted the Herald-Mage to be in the best shape possible, so he could protect the troops of Valdemar and help defeat their enemies. “If this can be accomplished at the small cost of assigning you a personal Guardsman, I doubt anyone will object.”

Gods, I had a hard time keeping my composure, but he was a very competent officer and excelled at keeping a straight face. He did his best to ensure the welfare of ALL his men, not just me, and I know he turned a blind eye to a lot of things, as long as it didn’t erode discipline, break any laws or hurt anyone. He made it quite clear HE had made the decision about assigning Jonne to me full time, and no one could suspect favoritism on my part.

And even if there were a few knowing looks and ribald comments, Jonne was quite well liked by most of his fellow Guardsmen and suffered no more teasing than anybody else according to his own judgment. Van smiled as he recalled the fighter's casual shrug.

“They’re just envious. None of them has such a beautiful bedfellow, at home or here.”

During the last month Jonne actually slept in Vanyel's tent. Not that they made love every night or even every other night; often they were too tired and just collapsed on their bedrolls. But more than once, Vanyel was woken in the darkness of predawn by a strong, naked body sliding into his bed, and before he was more than half awake, he became fully erect, as Jonne's warm hands found him unerringly.

The Guardsman was quite determined; the first time, as Van tried to protest the camp would soon wake, he simply said: “We'd better not waste any time, then.”

The next thing Vanyel knew, he was on the floor, his buttocks were spread, and Jonne prepared him quickly and efficiently. “I woke up dreaming about you, about doing this to you -- I want you so much, Vanyel.” The hard shaft probing his rear entrance left Van in no doubt of what his experienced lover had dreamt of doing, and he couldn't help surrendering to the flattering desire and determined entry.

He fondled himself, as his lover rode him with short, hard stabs, hitting the sweet spot expertly. Just before Jonne climaxed, Van's own release made him whimper in abandon, as he spurted in time with the hard thrusts massaging him inside. Then he moaned again, as the sensation of being filled with his lover's semen and hearing Jonne utter small grunts of ecstasy gave him sensual pleasure.

Vanyel shook his head in fond recollection. Well, that initial success certainly whetted Jonne's appetite for early morning trysts. He woke and mounted me regularly. So if I wanted a late morning on those few occasions where there was no other need to get up early, I had to seduce him the night before and wear him out. Not that I minded such a way of ensuring my sleep the next morning!

Van sighed and decided he had better try to get some sleep now seeing as there was no guarantee he wouldn’t be woken early tomorrow morning. Though, unfortunately not by anything as pleasant as Jonne's demanding body and hands. For now, the wonderful memories will have to suffice. As always, when he thought about Jonne, Vanyel wondered what had happened after they separated, and how the Guardsman thought of his lover. Had he gained or lost from being closely associated with Van?

***

In spite of Jonne’s efforts to avoid his family, it was inevitable he’d run into some of them eventually. Luckily, it happened a few days before he was due to leave the border for a much needed rest after almost four arduous months of hard riding, little sleep, and plenty of skirmishes with Karsite bandits or soldiers. Unluckily, the person he met was his oldest brother Andras, and Jonne was already feeling down.

Herald-Mage Vanyel had left the border ten days before, called away on some unknown emergency elsewhere. They barely had time for a hurried goodbye as Jonne helped Van pack in the early hours of dawn. Both knew they might not see each other again, as their duties would most likely keep them apart. Jonne knew the Herald was focused on duty rather than their mutual sadness about parting, and he did his best to stay calm and supportive.

“Take care of yourself, Van. I’ll miss you keeping me warm at night, but I won’t miss you dragging me all over the place, chasing Valdemar’s enemies.”

“Thank you for guarding my back, Jonne. I couldn’t have set up those traps without your knowledge and help.”

“Watching your backside was a pleasure, Herald Vanyel.” Jonne grinned when his lover blushed. They shared a few kisses before a low snort from Yfandes warned them of someone’s approach. Vanyel grabbed the saddle and tack, and Jonne followed him outside with the saddlebags, bedroll and courier bag.

Captain Trebon stood next to the Companion, holding the last dispatches, and Jonne gave him the courier bag. He helped Vanyel saddle Yfandes, or rather he gave him each item as it was needed. When Vanyel had fastened the courier bag to the front of the saddle, he briefly clasped Jonne and the Captain’s hands in farewell.

“Travel safely, Herald Vanyel. May the gods be with you.”

“Thank you, Captain Trebon. It was a pleasure working with you. Jonne, my gratitude for everything.”

A last look between Van’s unreadable silver orbs and Jonne’s expressive, hazel eyes, and Yfandes turned and set off at the speed only a Companion could muster. Within moments they were out of sight.

“Guardsman, pack up the tent and take it to the quartermaster. Then report to Larant for duty.”

“Yes, Captain.” Jonne was grateful for the opportunity to spend time alone inside the tent, packing his own belongings and dealing with the army stuff Vanyel had been issued. He cried a few bitter tears, but he knew the separation was for the best. He had developed a strong crush on the handsome Herald, but so far he’d avoided losing his heart to the irresistible, but unobtainable man.

It wasn’t Vanyel’s position which made a relationship unlikely, even though most Heralds, if they wed, generally stuck to other Heralds, Healers, Bards or people at Court. No, it was the surprising secret of Van having lost his life-bonded when they were both youngsters. Jonne winced at the memory of Van’s heart-broken sobs as he woke from a dream of Tylendel, the Herald-Mage trainee he’d loved. The nightmare had only occurred once, but the loneliness and heartache had been obvious. Jonne’s wordless offer of comfort had been gratefully accepted, but he knew a distraction was all he ever could be. He felt no resentment, because Van had been delightful company and comfort for a Guardsman caught between frantic fighting and anxious, but boring, waiting.

He carried everything to the quartermaster’s wagon and left the two piles against the wheel before he sought the man out.

“Herald-Mage Vanyel’s tent and blankets are ready for storage, as per the Captain’s orders.”

“What? But…” Quartermaster Fabian quickly controlled his shock. “Oh, right, I’ll see to it. I guess that means you need to find another billet?”

“It’s only for two weeks, but yes.”

“Do you want to make you own search for who has free space in their tent?”

“Yes, that might be easiest. Can I leave my belongings here until I know? I need to report to Sergeant Larant for duty.”

“Certainly, Jonne.” The quartermaster gave him a surprisingly kind smile. “And if you don’t find anywhere today, I can put you up in the cooks’ tent for a night or two.”

Most tents were for two or four people, and Jonne had been in a four-man tent until he moved into Vanyel’s tent. It was almost the size of a four-man tent and had a special divide down the middle. This gave Yfandes her own space to sleep, since Companions preferred to stay near their Heralds in case of emergencies. At first, Jonne was shy about making love to Vanyel with her close by, but the Herald told him she gave them both privacy and protection from being surprised by anyone approaching. Since Yfandes was decidedly friendly towards him, to the point of nuzzling his shoulder when he groomed her, Jonne had concluded she approved of Van’s liaison with him.

Sergeant Larant was taken aback to see him which meant the Herald’s departure hadn’t become common knowledge yet. Since Captain Trebon hadn’t told him to keep it a secret, Jonne explained the Herald had left and didn’t know when he’d be back.

“Makes sense, I guess. With harvest approaching most of yon Karsite scum will lay off on attacks for a while. When the stores are full we’ll see the final raids before winter.”

“That will be the problem of the fresh guard troops, not us.”

“Indeed, and I suspect the Demon-Slayer will return for that bunch of nasty fighting.” Larant paused and sent him a sly look. “You’re not gonna wait for him to come back?”

“Why would I? I’m looking forward to returning home for some rest.” To Jonne, ‘home’ was not the place he was born, but the guards’ barracks next to the palace in Haven.

“Aye, so are we all. It’s been a hellish season this year.”

“It would have been a lot worse without the Herald-Mage to protect us.”

“True enough and Captain Trebon was clever to assign ye to him. The Herald stopped looking worn and rattled, and that let the rest of us sleep better.”

Jonne bent down to retie the laces on his boot in order to hide the emotion on his face.

Sergeant Larant’s big hand came to rest on his shoulder. “Ye have nothing to be ashamed of, Guardsman Jonne. Doing yer duty to Valdemar is what ye signed up for, and protecting Heralds and the people are the most important parts. Stand proud and look yer fellow Guardsmen in the eye. They know what matters.”

Jonne looked up and was utterly undone by the fatherly look on the gruff sergeant’s face. It was certainly kinder than anything he had gotten from his father after he learned of Jonne’s inclinations, not to mention his older brothers.

“I know, Sergeant. Everyone has treated me like any other Guardsman.”

“Aye, and the Demon-Slayer leaving won’t change that. Now, we need to get yer on the duty roster.”

To Jonne’s relief, Larant was right. Oh, he still got teased about Herald Vanyel, but nothing he couldn’t deal with. In fact, the ribald comments and nudges helped him from wallowing in sadness, and he gave as good as he got in the mutual banter of comrade-in-arms. The Sergeant gave him various in-camp duties, which also afforded his horse some much needed rest. As for a place to sleep, Jonne had several offers, two of which included more than just sleep, if he read their faces right. But he chose to return to his original four-man billet, grateful all of the occupants had survived the fighting.

Two days before they were due to leave, the first of the relief companies arrived. Jonne had guard duty at the entrance to the camp together with two other Guardsmen. Since both of them had half-healed leg wounds, which prevented them from running, Jonne walked with the officers towards the command tent. Once he delivered them to the Captain’s personal guards, he jogged over to the quartermaster and informed him of the arrival. They had already set out an area for the first company, making sure it was clean and as level as possible. Privy trenches had been dug and fresh tent stakes prepared. There were enough spare tents augmenting the ones brought down, to set up the new arrivals comfortably. As the seasoned soldiers left, a company at a time, more tents would be cleaned and repaired as necessary.

Fabian followed him to the gate and supervised the quartering with the help of the corporal and the sergeant, who’d been left with the relief company. The cooks had been preparing a huge batch of stew and baked bread the same morning, all of which was greeted with pleased grins and healthy appetites by the travel-worn men.

“Guardsman Jonne, when you have eaten, I’d like you to ride over to Edgehold with Quartermaster Edrinne and introduce him. The holder has promised to deliver fresh supplies.”

Hellfires, why me? Well, there was no avoiding a direct order like that, not in front of strangers, and Fabian didn’t know about Jonne’s origins or reluctance to visit his old home. He forced the last mouthful of stew past the constriction of his throat and stood up.

“Yes, Quartermaster. I’ll meet you at the gate, as soon as I’ve saddled my horse. Should I ask Sergeant Larant for extra guards?” Please say yes so I can blend in.

“No, I have my own five guards, who’ll help with loading the wagon.”

The journey to Edgehold went too fast for Jonne, even riding next to a slow wagon. Only one of the other guards was mounted, the rest sat in the empty wagon. Quartermaster Edrinne quizzed Jonne about what to expect.

“Do they drive a hard bargain? What kind of quality can we expect? It doesn’t look like grain country here.”

“No, Edgehold is mostly goat and sheep breeding, but they grow excellent carrots and other root vegetables. Grain will come from holdings further east, where the soil can be ploughed. There might be eggs, but definitely old hens useful for soup, and plenty of cheese.”

“What is the holder like? Can I trust them to deliver?”

“Ask for the old holder and not his oldest son. Holder Kendrick will drive a hard bargain but be proud to offer you quality provisions. He takes his duty seriously.”

“It sounds like you know him well.”

Jonne shrugged, not seeing any point in denying it. “Edgehold was my home, but don’t expect any advantage from that. In fact, it might be better if I kept a low profile.”

“Ah, well, get us past the gate and I can introduce myself.”

Jonne was more than happy with that solution and when the wagon rumbled into the courtyard of the holding, he stayed at the gatehouse with both horses, and the other mounted guard followed the wagon by foot. He loosened the saddles’ girths and watered both mounts, before finding a shaded nook where he could rest and hopefully remain unnoticed.

***

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Jonne opened his eyes to find his oldest brother Andras towering over him. For a moment, he was twelve years old and facing his angry, ten-year-older brother again, but Jonne quickly shook off the feeling of terror. He rose slowly, glaring at Andras with a stony face, and he was pleased to see the bully take a step back.

That’s right, brother. I’m a man and a fighter now, and I’ve seen and survived worse things than your fists and hateful words. I’ve spent four months keeping the family hold safe, whether you know it or not.

“Did you arrive with the new quartermaster?

Jonne nodded and took a quick look around. There was no one nearby to witness the confrontation, which was both good and bad.

“But you’re not wearing the same badge as them. That one I’ve seen before, though.” He pointed an accusing finger at Jonne’s shoulder.

Jonne was impressed Andras had noticed. Valdemar troops wore the same general uniforms but their badges and other decorations differed, as well as any banner they might carry. It was an easy way to identify any Guardsman’s company, but not all civilians could make the distinction.

“I showed them the way here. My company will be leaving two days from now.” That should make you happy, if anything ever did. But your only pleasure has always been to find fault with others.

“You mean you’ve been here for months without visiting your family once?”

“I don’t go places where I’m not welcome.”

“Or is it because we’d keep you away from the boys of the keep, now that we know about your perversions?”

Ignore his taunting. You know he’s trying to hurt you or provoke a fight. Jonne clenched his fist behind his back and did his best to keep his face unreadable.

“I’ve done my best to forget what a stupid fool you are, Andras, but you insist on proving it over and over again.”

“I was clever enough to get rid of you.”

“Is that what you think happened? You think tattling to Father about me kissing another man in the barn made him disown me?”

Jonne was genuinely surprised Andras had this impression, but perhaps his parents hadn’t bothered to correct the misconception. It made no difference to Jonne, and maybe Andras and Borun were easier to deal with afterwards. Anything which might have made the last years of his mother’s life better was fine with him. Father might disapprove and be disappointed at the revelation, but he loved Jonne enough to grant his wish to become a Guardsman, since it would solve the conflicts at home too.

“He sent you packing a week later, and you’ve never been invited back. Not even for her funeral.” Andras sneered as he spoke the last words, and Jonne didn’t even think.

He grabbed and spun his half-brother and had him pinned against the wall with one arm across his throat and one hand squeezing his privates in a painful grip.

“You will speak respectfully of my mother, who did her best to treat her stepsons kindly, though they spurned her care and compassion. Swear on your mother’s grave, or I shall ensure you never enjoy any bed pleasures again.”

Andras’ eyes bulged and he whimpered as Jonne put more pressure in both places. His eyes bored into his brother’s, and he hoped the idiot could read the murderous intent. Jonne didn’t care what his older brothers thought of him, but he wasn’t going to let them disrespect his beloved mother.

A frantic nod made him ease up, and Andras babbled a fervent promise. Pushing him away, Jonne returned to his earlier stance with his back against the wall and a hand on his sword. Andras stumbled sideways for a couple of steps, before he righted himself and turned to stare at Jonne. A mix of emotions flittered across his face; the fearful respect was new, but the hatred was familiar.

“You’ll regret this, Jonne.”

“Let me guess: you plan to avenge yourself by hurting people I care about? The trademark of a true coward and a bully – to hit and hurt defenseless people to feel like a ‘proper man.’ You disgust me.”

“You’re the one who is disgusting, letting other men use you or preying on innocent children.”

“Spread your lies all you want, Andras, no one cares. I’ve spent the last ten years in the company of real men who give their lives for Valdemar. They know the value of shieldmates and honest fighters who’ll do their best to keep you safe. They don’t spurn the casual comfort of a warm body after you’ve fought in the rain for a whole day and your tired muscles are screaming for a massage.”

He had taught Van that, and the Herald, who was unbelievably shy about acting on his natural inclination for men, relaxed and thrived under Jonne’s care. From the few things Vanyel shared about Forest Reach, Jonne knew he hadn’t been accepted at home due to being ‘fey’ from an early age. They’d both been sent away and found somewhere they could fit in. Vanyel with the Heralds of Valdemar, and Jonne with the Guardsmen, who appreciated his skills as scout and fighter, and occasionally also as lover. Being accepted as such by the Herald-Mage, who was admired and feared by most people who met him, had given Jonne the final boost of confidence and self-respect. Andras had chosen the worst – or best – possible moment to confront his younger brother.

“They only want to use you because there’re no women around who want them.”

Jonne wanted to roll his eyes. There were female Guardsmen, but they rarely served on the Karsite border, and camp followers were forbidden. Of course, the daughters of Holders rarely involved themselves with Guardsmen, but there were plenty of farmers’ wenches who would happily take a tumble in the hay with an appreciative Guardsman. In fact, over the years Jonne had also encountered a few willing lads, who somehow managed to single him out as a hopeful prospect. He made sure they were of age and preferably experienced before he let them seduce him. They always parted amicably, and like his fellow Guardsmen, Jonne gifted his country-born lovers with small tokens of gratitude for their time spent together. At least he never had to worry about siring a child by accident.

“It makes no difference to the Guardsmen of Valdemar what you believe, as long as you deal fairly when you supply them with provisions. Edgehold has been praised for quality and generosity, and for that I owe thanks.”

Andras looked even angrier, and Jonne suspected he disagreed with Father on the amount of food and other goods handed over. He and Borun were misers in every way, and Jonne shuddered to think of Edgehold’s future when his father died. For his youngest brother’s sake, Jonne hoped his father lived for many years yet. At least all his sisters were happily married and away from the influence of the heirs to Edgehold.

“I shall inform Father of your disgraceful behavior. He will be severely displeased you have snubbed the family like this.” Andras stomped off, clearly pleased to get the last word. Jonne shrugged, simply happy the confrontation was over.

The Guardsman was surprised to realize he was close to feeling sorry for Andras and Borun. Their mother must have been unloving or unkind. Nobody ever mentioned her with fondness. She died in childbed when their sister Lyssa was born, and Father wasted no time in marrying Jonne’s mother. Jonne was born a year later, followed by three sisters and one final brother. He knew his mother tried to care for his half-siblings, and Lyssa called her Mother and loved her as her own children did. But Andras and Borun hated the woman who took their mother’s place. As youngsters they were forced to treat her with respect or else suffer the wrath of their father, but nothing Jonne’s parents did changed their dislike of her and her offspring.

Jonne took a long drink from his water flask to rid himself of the bad taste in his mouth. Hopefully, the quartermaster would return soon, and he would be able to leave Edgehold once more. It couldn’t happen fast enough.

Not because he didn’t want to see the family members he loved, but because ignoring them and pretending not to care was the easiest way to keep his sisters and youngest brother safe and disregarded by Andras and Borun. They had sneakily taken their hatred of Jonne’s mother out on her children, until Jonne was old and strong enough to trash them both when they transgressed. He had no illusions about what they might descend to, if they knew how much he loved his family. Accidents were too easy to arrange, and Father had refused to believe his oldest sons were behind the mishaps and mischief plaguing his youngest children.

Vanyel approved of his strategy when told about it one night as they lay in each other’s arms. Jonne sighed with a mixture of pride and regret as he recalled yet another instance of the Herald-Mage showing a caring and compassionate side, so different from the stern and unemotional demeanor most of the world saw.

He snorted at Andras’ assumption that Jonne had abandoned his family or been cast off. He might be unable to read or write, same as his father and older brothers, but his youngest brother and two of his sisters had been taught. They sent him letters regularly, and he enlisted the help of educated Guardsmen or local scribes to reply. He had even made a visit when his mother was ailing, carefully timed to coincide with the absence of Andras and Borun. It was clear those two had no idea of the regular contact, and Jonne was more than happy to keep it that way.

“Jonne.” The whisper was barely audible, but he stiffened and glanced around. There; a shadow against the half-open door to the gate house. Taking another careful look around, the Guardsman sauntered casually across and slipped inside. The room was empty apart from the young man who threw himself in his brother’s arms.

“Jonne. I’m so happy to see you. I didn’t know you were at the border, until Father told me.”

Father knows? Somehow, I’m not surprised. He and I both carefully kept it from you, little brother, because I know you would have been unable to resist the temptation to seek me out. And if Andras or Borun barge in on this reunion, you’ll be in danger of them going after you. I don’t trust them to act rationally.

“Ken. I’m happy to see you too, but we shouldn’t spend too much time together in case the pig-headed monsters catch us.”

Kendrik looked like the spitting image of the father he’d been named for, especially now that he was no longer a boy of fifteen, but a young confident man. The only thing he’d inherited from their mother was her amazing green eyes. All of Holder Kendrik’s other sons had his hazel eye color, but the girls ranged from blue over gray and greenish-brown to Lyssa’s brown eyes. The three oldest had their mother’s auburn hair, but the youngest had varying degrees of blond, from the ripe wheat of their mother to the non-descript hair of the older Kendrik. Jonne thought his father had improved in looks when his hair turned gray and later white.

“I don’t care about that, because I’m leaving with you.”

“What? Has something happened?”Jonne suddenly noticed Kendrik was dressed for riding, and he was even wearing a sword.

“I guess you could say that, but I’ll explain as we go. We need to leave now, while Father is keeping the monsters busy.”

Jonne recognized the stubborn set of shoulders and compressed lips. Oh, yes, Father’s son in every way. He decided on a final safeguard. “Father has approved you leaving?”

“More like ordered. Now hurry, Laryn is waiting for us at the side gate.”

“Laryn?” Why on earth would Andras’ only son and heir be waiting for them? Jonne got more and more confused, but he hurried to his horse, tightened the saddle girth and led the roan to the main gate. Ken’s horse was tied next to Steady, and Jonne wondered why there was only a small bundle tied to the saddle. If his younger brother really was leaving, why didn’t he have more packs?

Kendrick interpreted his glance and puzzled frown correctly. “Most of our belongings will be in the wagon with the food. It’s all arranged. At breakfast Father ordered me to ride out to check on the sheep in the fields closest to Jagged Edge, so that’s what Andras thinks I’m doing this afternoon.”

They led their horses out of the gate, with his brother giving a casual wave to the guard. Jonne kept his head down and walked partly hidden between the horses. As soon as they were away from the gate they mounted and trotted along the path towards the western side of the hold. There was a grove of oak trees about one quarter league from the gate.

“Go there and wait for me, while I pick Laryn up.”

“Kendrick,” Jonne said, trying to curb his impatience.

“I know, I know, you hate being kept in the dark, but you’ll understand as soon as we all meet up.” He didn’t wait for a reply but set off towards the gate, leaving no choice for Jonne but to make his way to the grove.

He rode in between the trees following the path through the undergrowth of hazel bushes, heading towards a small stream he knew ran through a clearing in the grove. It was a natural place to meet up, and he wasn’t the only one to think so. A white horse lifted its head from the stream, and piercing blue eyes met his. His first thought made him gasp, but he saw the truth immediately.

Yfandes? No, it’s not her, but another Companion. There can be only one reason he’s here. Laryn is almost fourteen, he’s the perfect age to be chosen. Oh Havens, this is a bloody mess.

The Companion went over to an old oak tree with low, crooked branches. A saddle and bit-less bridle were hanging there, and the commanding gaze of the creature left Jonne in no doubt of his wish.

Oh well, I’ve saddled Van’s Companion plenty of times. And I get the feeling we need to leave immediately, once Ken arrives with our nephew. Wait, did he just nod at me? Ugh, I swear Yfandes read my thoughts several times too, and helped Van and I enjoy some private time.

Jonne blushed at the memory, but dismounted and busied himself with getting the Companion ready. He’d only just finished when Ken arrived with Laryn sitting behind him. The boy ignored the uncle he hadn’t met since he was four. Instead, he jumped down and rushed over to hug the Companion. They stared at each other for a long second; the horse presented his side and the boy mounted effortlessly. All males at Edgehold were taught to ride at an early age.

They made their way to the other end of the grove and found a path intersecting the road to the camp. Interestingly, the Companion took the lead, leaving Jonne and his brother riding next to each other. The Guardsman only needed to nod at Kendrick to provoke the much-awaited explanation.

“Two days ago I caught Laryn sneaking down to the stables. Apparently, he had a crush on one of the stable boys. Yeah, I know, his father would have a fit. Anyway, I hauled him off and decided to take him for a walk to explain a few things about caution and discretion. We went out to the grove, since we could pretend to look for truffles and check out the hazelnut crop.”

Jonne nodded as he recalled doing the same at Laryn’s age. He wondered if their old truffle dog was still alive or someone had trained one of her pups.

“I’d just finished my lecture when that big white nuisance waltzes in on the scene and proceeds to choose Laryn right in front of me. Heck, the boy goes from sniffling to smiling in two seconds flat, and he’s all set to ride off without as much as a by-your-leave.”

“Uhmm, newly Chosen always do that, Ken. The Companions want to take them back to the Herald’s Collegium right away.”

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t going to send my nephew riding into a countryside full of roaming Karsite bandits who’d be delighted to kill a Companion and his Chosen. And I damn well didn’t want to tell Andras his only son got dragged off to be a Herald. He’ll go unhinged. His wife can’t have any more children, Borun is sterile from a disease he had as a youngster, you don’t like women, and now Laryn will be a Herald.”

“I’m sure Father will be happy knowing you and your heirs will inherit the hold eventually. I know I am.”

“Whatever is left of it when Andras and Borun are dead. Though the way Borun indulges in food and drink, he won’t last many years. The healer warned him a few days ago, but the pig-headed idiot won’t listen.”

“But all of this doesn’t explain why you’re leaving? You should stay to support Father, not go haring off with your disreputable brother, your infatuated nephew, and a stubborn white horse.”

The Companion snorted, but Laryn didn’t react. He was slumped in the saddle, lost in his own thoughts. Or perhaps he was worn out from the strain of keeping the event of his choosing and his flight plans secret.

Suddenly Kendrick looked sad rather than determined. “True, but the healer was there for a reason. He’s done his best for Father these past two years, but all he can do now is give him potions to dull the pain.”

Jonne blanched and his guts churned. “You mean…?”

“I’m sorry, Jonne. It’s only a matter of time, a short time I think. Father made a deal with your Captain, so I could travel to Haven with you. He’s told Andras he’ll hand over to him soon. It will be announced on Sovvan night and celebrated together with the harvest. My guess is Father will be gone before winter.”

“And he wanted you out of here. He doesn’t trust his heir either.”

“Yes, and when he learned you were with the Guardsmen set to leave soon, he decided it was too good a chance to pass up. Adding Laryn to the plan was easy enough, and Father will break the news at dinner tonight. I have a letter for you, too.”

“In that case, I bet the Captain will send us off first thing tomorrow, before Andras turns up and demands all of us return. My fellow Guardsmen will not be happy to do a dawn departure.”

“And what about you, Jonne? Are you unhappy too?”

“No, little brother. I’m pleased to have your company and I look forward to getting to know my nephew, if we can pry him away from his protective white horse – I mean Companion.”

Yes, brother, one day I may tell you how your presence at my side is the best antidote to the jagged edges of my heart I could ever imagine. Van would be happy for me. I’ll always be grateful for our time together, but now I have another duty. At least this time, I’ll have family with me when I mourn the loss of a parent.

Jonne knew he had plenty to be grateful for, including the fact dealing with Laryn as a Herald-to-be would be a lot easier than four months ago. Not to mention the same-sex attraction of the boy which Kendrick had skirted around as best he could. Laryn would need someone he could trust to talk about this, but at least he was less likely to face prejudice in the Collegium and among the Guardsmen. Jonne’s own experiences had proved it to be so, and he hoped Laryn would be happy in his new life away from Edgehold of Jagged Edges Ravine. Even if the life of a Herald of Valdemar was fraught with danger.