My Mystic Knight - 1. Story

There was war and rumors of war. The highlands and the lowlands fought as husband and wife throwing pots and manure at each other as they had for generations. Borders were guarded more jealously than a favorite mare in foal that tended to wander at birthing time. And the gods did not mind.

The Mystics rode all the lands freely, beholden to none, belonging to all. Mages acted as healers and teachers. Warriors captained the guards of many noble households. Knights, where they could be found, taught war-fare and the art of chivalry. A Mystic Knight had the duty of rewarding young adults with the spurs of a Warrior. They were a law unto themselves and their Oracle, who spoke with the voice of the gods.

Then one dawn the Oracle spoke these words: Death and slavery move like a turtle across the dead lands from the East. The goddess weeps and brings forth a new vessel in her grief. She charges her vessel a great duty - take a mate who rides with the god's faith, his loyalty, and his rage. The god catches her tears as well and commands the Knights to watch, train, and be ready. For when her vessel is mated, his vessel will be ready to lead them. Only then will both their people be safe.

The Ancient Order of the Mystic Knights sent riders out to call their own home. Decisions needed to be made and plans lain. It took a full year to gather information, with most of that being warnings of a warring host making its way slowly through the hot sands. The traders that walked the edges regularly talked of death swallowing up the farthest destinations they called upon.

Some thought the mountains would hold off any host from the sand sea, but others felt something more drastic had to be done. It took them most of another year to agree on a course of action. In the end, it was a simple plan - and it was bound to work - if no one mucked it up.

Of course that meant everyone would.

 

The King and Queen of Hylndalle felt they had to do everything in their power to protect their only child, the only one the Queen would ever bear. That was why they had travelled deep into the belly of the land with their son - a boy who should not be undergoing the ceremony that would make him the custodian of the land until he was well into adulthood or his father dead. Assured by the High Priestess of their son's safety, they watched as the boy was stripped of his clothing and prepared to unite with the land.

"They won't be able to break it?" his mother asked his father.

"Goddess willing, he will be bound to both the land and through it, me. Nothing can break that binding but his death," his father replied, "and if that happens, I will know. Goddess help them, I will know."

Three days later the Mystics arrived who were sent to retrieve the prince. He was bundled up and sent with them. They had to lead him like a dim-witted child as every tiny thing amazed him in its wonder. He went willingly, though, and his parents relinquished him willingly.

As they rode away, the Mystic, a mage of some considerable strength, looked at the boy. "Do you know what is happening little prince?"

"The goddess calls for her lord."

"And you know why you ride?"

"To greet him," the little boy grinned, "she will guide me and reveal him in her time."

The Mystic nodded thoughtfully and led the child away from his past and toward everyone's future. There were other collections to make and they certainly would not all go as smoothly as this one had.

 

"I will not allow them to partake in this idiocy!" The Duke of Oak shouted at the palace guards sent to steal his sons and beyond them to the monks and their protective knights. He had placed himself in front of the nursery door and was now brandishing his own sword in a manner that displayed his familiarity with its use and willing to do harm.

"His Highness wishes it. They are in line for the throne," the Mystic Knight with them said in a calm voice, trying to defuse the situation. It had been a very trying month prying sons from fathers, daughters from mothers, eldest from all. So far only one had come willingly, and he seemed rather addlebrained. The poor child was even now on his way to the temple along with prayers that he wasn't too damaged by whatever affliction had rattled his brains.

"Only one of them."

"Well, technically, but if something happens to one of them then the next..." the palace guard attempted to reason with the Duke, but the man was as swift with his tongue as he was with his sword.

"Do you take the next at every house?" The Duke demanded. "It's because they are of one birth! Nothing will happen to one of them! Any one of them! His Highness asks too much of his womb-mate! They are Oaks! His Highness should remember that."

"Yes, yes, they are Oaks."

"They will grow up knowing they are Oaks, and knowing their womb-mates. I know our line of succession seems - odd - to those not within our borders but it is what it is."

The door opened behind him and a head poked out. The hair was dark red and the eyes bright blue. "I'll go Papa. Our uncle, the king, ordered that one of us must go, but he did not decree that all of us go." The boy turned and looked at the Mystic, "You may inform my uncle that his word was followed in my father's house. Tell him his heir went willingly and tell him to leave my brothers alone. Tell him I said so as one of them will father my heir, and I wish my heir to grow up in a world of peace. I do this for him, not for my uncle, nor my king."

"You know they will make you not remember who you are," The Duke looked at his son, tears wetting his eyes.

"I'm an Oak. We bend, but we never break in a storm, Papa. I know who I am; it's written in my heartwood."

"El..." His father began to whisper and the boy turned on him.

"No papa, we are all nuts from the same tree, remember? As of today that boy does not exist. I am the Heir of Heartwood, my uncle, the king, so decreed it when he ordered me plucked me from the oak and set me above my brothers before my time."

The Duke of Oak nodded as he smiled, "Then who we are to defy my brother, the king?"

"He's a nut too." The boy straightened and smiled. "We are nearly old enough to be sent off, Papa. I'm just leaving early is all. Tell Beverly of Birch I have been called to training by someone higher than he."

"Beverly of Birch will not like that."

"I know Papa. He just wanted me to train at his holding to hopefully pair me with one of his many daughters. Do not send my brothers there; they will not be so strong as to avoid that trap."

The Duke of Oak chuckled at his son, "And you are strong enough?"

"No Papa, I run to the god forsaken to hide and pray he will send me one made in the goddess' own image as mine."

"Then you will find one such, and when you do, love, my son, love deeply, and never let go."

"Yes Papa."

The Duke of Oak nodded and stroked his son's cheek, and then he turned to the waiting host. So many for one small boy, it seems they were expecting someone to put up a fight.

"He may go with you. Just him. And you best send him back whole as your peace agreement proclaims. He is my son before he is the Heir of Heartwood." The Duke leaned over and kissed his son's forehead then gave him the traditional blessing of a son leaving home and whispered the blessing of the old god upon him, so just he could hear, praying it would be written on his heartwood as well as upon his soul. His brothers, a pair left from identical triplets; edged out of the nursery and watched, ready to dart back inside at the slightest hint of foul play. There was none.

 

As soon as the children were away from their parents, each child was kissed by the mage they travelled with and their memories were sealed against them. They were then sent to the temple where their lessons were continued or began, depending on their ages. As each child reached the age of page, he or she was tested and sent for training as the testing indicated where their abilities lay. There was only one child who did not fit in this schedule. The addlebrained boy was not kissed by the mystic, but sent to the temple directly. He was kept there for a season, and only then was he allowed to be among the other children. The mages were certain he did not recall his own name, or that of his parents. The healers had been called in and so had the high priestess. His affliction became got no worse, nor any better, so the mages determined he was the way he was. When it was his turn to be tested, everyone was surprised that he tested strongly for both temple and mage.

"Do you understand what you are being asked?" the Mystic Mage asked the boy in the presence of the priestess.

"You wish to know if I want to train as a mage or be a priest."

The mystic nodded.

"The goddess has had my heart since its first beat and will take my last breath when I loose it. But that is not the path I walk. I am to train as a mystic."

"He doesn't sound very addlebrained to me," the priestess said to the mystic as she looked the boy over. "Train him. If there are any problems, send him to us."

"The journey will not be easy," the mystic looked from the priestess to the boy, "come trainee."

 

The taking of the children did not stop the fighting. Battles still were being fought along the borders of their lands. When his son should have been eleven years old, the King of Hylndalle was certain the boy was dead. He informed his wife the land told him the boy was gone. There had been no contact for more than two years. She retired to the temple of the goddess to pray for the soul of her son. While she was there her husband took a mistress and sired daughters. The queen prayed for her son but she wished no ill thoughts on her husband's daughters. They were of no threat to anyone. Only her son could inherit the land sense, and one day his son would.

Some of the people began calling the mistress, queen and the baseborn-brats, princesses. But many did not forget their put-aside queen. This caused strife in her land. She wept tears for the sadness her husband, the king, caused his people and wondered if he had lost his feeling for the land itself the night her son gained his.

The years passed and she grew older. Her son, wherever he lived now, would be eligible for his spurs in a spring or two if he trained as a warrior as his father had planned. Her husband also grew older, but not wiser. Still a second son was denied him and more daughters graced his halls. His warriors ranged to the far borders of his kingdom fighting battles that should have ended when his son was taken so many years ago. The pages that served in his castle were youngest sons of lower nobility, those born and hidden from the Mystics and of age with the brats the king sired. It seemed he hoped to wed them off as princesses and gain a new heir through marriage.

 

In opposition to the armies of Hylndalle, newly-made warriors rode out of the highlands on their gallant stallions down into the lowlands, their war host behind them shouting out a mighty roar for Elfin and Effram of Oak. Behind them rode a third stallion. He was not saddled; no one could get near enough to complete the task. He was a damn stubborn horse too, Effram grinned at the thought that the stallion made the perfect mount for his missing womb-mate, although he had never been ridden by him. They dragged the animal everywhere in hopes that one day he would be found. Elfin shouted out and drew his sword, then battle was engaged. One day the King of Hylndalle would understand -- Heartwood was not now, nor never would be, a land for the goddess. It belonged to the god.

 

Mystic Allistar looked over his six young charges. They had all finished as much training as they could hold in isolation and were now ready to be released into the world with minimal supervision. He would be doing that supervising along with his Knight, Joam. "Today is a very special day for you as you will be walking among the young warriors from which you will be choosing from later. These will be your first warriors. You will not be bound to these warriors and they may be taken from you at any time. You should not form attachments to them. They are just out of training like you. One day one of they may grow strong enough to become a Mystic Knight. Do not get your hopes up though; a Knighting is rare and precious. It requires devotion from both the Warrior and the Mage, and unless you are absolutely clear in your deepest of hearts that you desire to be bound to that warrior until death, do not bring him to my attention. Is this understood?"

A chorus of agreeing sounds came from the group, with one notable exception. "Shadow? You do understand?"

"I understand."

"And you aren't going to go out and invite the first warrior you see to be your Knight?"

"No, Allistar, but if my Knight shows himself I will offer myself to him."

"Even if he is not ready?"

"If he is shown, he will be ready," Shadow sighed, "It may not be time, but he will be ready, goddess willing."

"May she guide you on this day, Shadow, and keep you in her heart." Allistar turned to the others, "May she keep you all." And with that he dismissed them until the ceremony. He watched Shadow as he stepped outside the Hall for the first time. He was still a bit of an odd duck among the swans, but he had faith that one day he would transform as well. Even up on training rock, the boy had kept himself separate from the others working harder, striving for perfection. He had achieved it in many ways and was one of the best they had trained. He kept saying he had to be better because it was necessary. Allistar knew the Mystics did not have a timeline set up for returning the children they took to their families, but it seemed that some of the children had internal ones no matter the memory blocks. Shadow had a goal. Allistar just wished he knew what it was and who set it for him. It would make his life a lot easier.

 

Blaze looked around at his companions. Today they would become warriors in truth. There was just one more step to fulfill that undertaking and that would happen tonight at sunset. Until then they were at their leisure to reflect on their decision and come to peace in their own heart and soul with the oaths they would make this night.

And yet, the excitement and anticipation in the barracks was palpable as the conclusion of so many years of training was coming to an end. However, he was still a bit anxious because he felt a divergence in his path from the others, and he could not tell what that meant. They were expecting the call up any time to full service as Mystic Warriors and fretting over becoming a Mystic Knight, although they had also been told the possibility of one of them becoming a Mystic Knight was less than one of them becoming King.

However, when questioned privately, a few of the older Knights had also told them it was possible that the choosing came on suddenly and the knowing was unquestionable. They said if the knowledge of who their mage was came to them they were not to deny it, but embrace it fully for it only happened once.

"You guys ready?" Blaze asked his companions as he triple checked his weapons, his armor, and the place where his spurs would go when he received them soon.

"I heard they graduated a new batch of mages this week. They might divide us up, to help train them. Do you think they really make the warriors screw the mages like women before we can be knighted?"

"I don't know." Blaze said quite honestly, "Why don't you ask one of them? You know where their barracks is as well as I do."

"It sort of makes me weak in the stomach to think about it."

Blaze shook his head. It didn't make him weak in the stomach; it made him weak in the knees. His stomach felt fine and his groin agreed. He watched his fellow swordsmen as they bickered back and forth but did not respond. They reminded him of something, someone, but he couldn't exactly place who. However, whoever it was, they made him smile. There were times he would see himself in the polished silver and someone looked back at him, smiling and approving. Sometimes with the way the silver curved, there were two smiles, and that felt right and his heart felt light in the knowledge that somewhere the smiles were out there waiting for him to find them.

He was having odd dreams lately too -- dreams of battle with swords and blood. Dreams where someone called out to him like an echo under water, but the words were distorted beyond the point of recognition. Four horsemen rode - death with a heart - the three swordsmen deadly, the heart a different sort of blade, but lethal nonetheless.

He shook himself free of the melancholy thoughts and went outside to think under his best thinking tree, the great oak. For some reason oaks, no matter where they were planted, comforted him.

Today he wore his training uniform with only his sword strapped on loosely at the hip. It was his smaller sword even; the one he typically trained with was large enough to need a shoulder baldric. The uniform was his plainest one, not much more than simple homespun wool and leather. To be quite honest, he could not recall a time he did not wear the uniform of the mystics. They had been different ranks, but always the uniform.

He approached his tree when the sun was high overhead and the shade of the boughs was spread evenly on the grass below. The roots were occupied by a black headed youth who rested his back against the trunk. His feet were tucked up under him and his hands buried in the dirt and grass. He sat quietly as if meditating. Blaze looked around to see if there were another oak in the area, and saw none. He sighed and walked toward the tree to occupy another portion of the shade and found the other male gone. Frowning, Blaze opened his senses a little more and found him still there. A mage.

He settled in a quarter turn around the tree from the mage, laying down, resting his head on his folded arms as he stare up into the branches. The mage was young, so he was probably one of the newly graduated ones; he had heard they were always a little jumpy, so he waited.

"They say nuts don't fall far from the tree," Blaze said as he maneuvered one arm to pick up an acorn. "That the tree they come from shelters them from the worst of what nature throws at them, but it also stunts their growth. It causes them not to realize their full potential, because the parent tree blocks the majority of the sun and soaks up the majority of the water, and there are all these other little nuts around trying to get established as well. So the best thing that can happen to a little nut is for some crazy bird to come down and swoop it up and carry it off and drop it off somewhere to let it fend for itself all alone." He threw the acorn at the mage. "I'm a nut. Are you?"

"I'm a shadow."

"Oh?" Blaze turned his body so that he could look at the mage. "How so?"

"People see through me."

"I see you just fine."

"That might be because you are a nut," the mage smiled.

"So what if I am? Are you ashamed of being seen with a nut?"

"Not if you're not ashamed of being seen with a shadow."

"Baby, I blaze like the noonday sun when I wield my blade. There are no shadows around me. Can you stand the heat?"

The mage blushed, but his blue eyes widened and his lips parted the tiniest bit as the tip of his tongue flicked out. "They... my... Shadow is my name," he finally managed, "we arrived this morning."

"So they let you off training rock?"

"Finally. I thought I would never get off it. Everything is so dead up there.

"Well some of you guys like to blow things up. That way you can only blow yourselves up."

"They make us learn how to blow things up. I don't like to do it."

"No?"

Shadow shook his head. "It's such a waste. So much death. If I had a choice I think I would go raise sheep somewhere in the mountains."

"Even shepherds have to protect their flocks."

"But shepherds don't go hunting for trouble," Shadow sighed, "It's nearly over, and at least here I can feel my land again. I've missed it."

"Is that why you feel you are a shadow of yourself?" Blaze asked quietly, moving closer, reaching out to close the distance between them. "You were cut off from what you felt made you whole?"

Shadow nodded.

"You were never cut off," Blaze told him, "you are written in the roots of your land like I am written in the heartwood of mine. We may have been plucked before we fully ripened and planted in a new field, but here we have flourished, and if you stretch out your roots deep enough they will connect."

"You truly believe that?" Shadow asked hopeful.

"I do," Blaze answered honestly as their gazes met and held. He felt the first tentative brush of a kiss along his jaw line before his senses registered Shadow had moved. His hand came up to draw the mage in closer until he lay propped on one elbow with the mage pulled to lie fully on his back along the grass. In moments they were joined at the mouth.

Neither was aware of the passage of time as they were so absorbed in each other.

Blaze was aware of pinning Shadow to the land. His sword and its baldric had been tossed aside along with their tunics. Shadow's breeches had been loosened, and he was even now belly down to the ground. He grasped grass and made mewling mewing sounds as Blaze nipped his shoulders and back allowing Shadow to grind his pleasure from the land. When Shadow finally shuddered in completion the ground shook, raining acorns down around them. Blaze pulled him close, kissing his hair, although he had no release himself.

They were still cuddling when a voice broke their stillness. "There you are Shadow, do you know how difficult you are to find?"

"Apparently, not difficult enough," Shadow grumbled from under Blaze.

"They are having the ceremony soon. Allistar sent me to find you as you had not reported in yet. He figured I had the best chance of locating you if you didn't want to be found." The mage looked Blaze over, "I would guess you didn't."

Shadow blushed.

Blazed looked the other mage over. "You've delivered your message. He will be there."

"I am to deliver him. Shadow has the tendency to become lost."

"Shadow will become lost no more. He now has a light in the darkness." Blaze looked up at the other mage, "He's not moving until he has some privacy."

He blushed. "That's ridiculous. You are under a tree in the middle of the training complex."

"And how many times did you walk past us before you found us?" Blaze asked him.

The mage looked thoughtful for a moment, but he turned around. Blaze rolled off Shadow who scrambled to dress. Blaze belted on his sword.

Once he was dressed Shadow turned to Blaze, "Well I guess you better come along then, too."

"I have my own ceremony to attend," Blaze told him.

"You would deny me?" Shadow looked Blaze in the eye, and Blaze felt his insides melt in a way they never had for anyone else ever before in his life.

"Never. I get my spurs tonight. A Knight is useless unless he is a warrior first."

"Then you will be there." Shadow smiled, "Good."

"Hurry up or we will be late," the newcomer complained. Then he looked at Shadow and shook his head, "Never mind, I keep forgetting who I'm talking to. Come when you are ready, I'm sure they will wait."

"Come then, my Mystic Knight," Shadow said as he held out his hand. Blaze took it and didn't look back.

 

The ceremony was held in the Knight Hall with every available Mystic in attendance. The new mages would be introduced to the unbound warriors and, through some ancient magic they would be grouped, paired off by ability, need, and personality compatibility.

They separated at the entrance with Blaze going to join his comrades in arms, taking his place in their ranks by order of arrival. He was dead last. Someone had noticed he hadn't come back yet as they were leaving and grabbed his dress uniform and armor. It took some wiggling to get into it quietly without disturbing ranks, but he managed without gathering too many scowls.

There were only six young mages. They stood alone at one end of the hall in their black loose fitting uniforms. Blaze found he could pick Shadow out from the others. He was the only one who looked truly happy to be there with kiss swollen lips and oaken debris in his hair. He was also the only one with true black hair that fell in ringlets around his face, although he kept it clubbed back with several ties. It was a common style among the mages he noticed and kept their hair back well, but he thought it would take forever to tie back like that and was grateful once again that, as a swordsman, he kept his unruly red mop cut fairly short.

Two of the mages looked alike enough to be close relations, but the rest differed in their appearance strongly, from short to very tall, and from a little chubby to rail thin. He looked around him at the swordsmen; for the most part, they looked as if they had been poured in a mold and popped out on the other side, fairly uniform in height, weight, and muscle structure. Then again, they had mages at the training facility to make sure they turned out that way. His body had resisted their magical engineering so he was the height and breadth the gods intended; fortunately, they intended for him to wield a sword - a big one.

There were speeches; there were always speeches. However, this time they did manage to keep them to a minimum before the real work began.

The young swordsmen were receiving their spurs today and going into service to a mage as their warrior. As each was called forward, he knelt before the altar of the goddess, and she called a mage forward to claim him. There was never a mistake. Blaze waited his turn. He looked across the room to see that five of the mages had a few warriors each. One had none. That was his Mage. He would only need one Warrior, one Knight. Blaze watched as the others were spread among the five and his still had none. Then he had no choice but to go, he was the only one left.

He walked toward the altar in proper supplication, then without warning drew his sword and laid it across the stone dedicated to her service. He placed both his hands, one palm upward and one palm downward, on the blade of his sword and waited.

Joam, Grand Master of the Ancient Order of the Mystic Knights watched in anticipation as Blaze waited. Not many would realize he honored the god on the goddess' altar, fewer would know what he asked. Then Shadow stepped forward as did Fletcher. The blond haired mage had half a dozen warriors behind him, Shadow had none, but Shadow smiled gently where Fletcher frowned.

"I choose you," Fletcher said as he neared the altar, not giving Shadow a chance to claim the warrior who waited.

"I do not choose you," Blaze said.

"You do not get a choice; you must come!" the blond screeched.

"There is another choice," Shadow said from the side. "The goddess chooses you for me."

"You cannot know this Shadow, not if I know him to be mine!" Fletcher shouted.

Allistar went to intervene but Joam stopped him. "They must learn to co-operate with Shadow and with Blaze or this is all for moot. Let it play out, the goddess' hand is in it."

"Yours Fletcher?" Shadow asked quietly although his voice carried though the entire hall. "I know his face." Shadow stepped forward, and kept stepping with each point he made, "I know his touch, his smell, his taste. I know he has a scar on the inside of this left thigh that almost killed him. I know he will protect me or die. Do you know that?"

Fletcher backed off a step, unsure. He looked at the other four, but they were giving him no support. The warrior could have been made of stone for all the indication of the choice he gave. This angered him. He wanted the big one to protect him. He looked back at the other warriors he had claimed and none were as big or as strong as this one. None could protect him as well as this one could.

"Do you want to test that theory?" Fletcher asked in a low voice as power flared around him.

Shadow was fast, but Blaze was faster and he had not been trained to maim.

It took more than a few minutes for the older Warriors, Knights, and Mystics to get the place under control again. When it was all sorted most of the younger warriors almost missed Blaze kneeling in the pool of Fletcher's blood next to the altar and being tapped on the shoulders by Shadow with his own bloody sword. Only a few saw the kiss that sealed his advancement to Knighthood and the sound crack on the head he received just after that caused him to pass out. Joam himself carried the Knight out. Shadow carried the sword. No one would forget how Blaze protected his Shadow or how Fletcher presumed to know too much.

 

They took Blaze and Shadow back up to training rock so they could learn to work together properly. They were quite willing to learn, however, Blaze was not quite willing to share Shadow's bed. He felt what they had shared under the oak was the ending of something, not the beginning. Shadow was not his for the taking, yet. So, when they were assigned a suite to share with two bedrooms and a common room between them, Blaze opened the door to the second and much smaller bedroom and declared it fit for his use.

In the first weeks after their arrival at training, there were rumors about their indiscretion prior to Blaze's Knighting. As each new rumor popped up, they were given another lecture on proper behavior and decorum even though no one actually came forward to say they personally saw the pair doing anything that could be deemed improper. Not even the mage who had found them would speak directly of that day; it was all rumor and innuendo. As far as Blaze knew, they both had been celibate since the oak.

Their relationship remained friendly though, affectionate even-, even when among the other mages, trainees, and older Knights. They were the only mage/knight pairing in training at the moment. Blaze hadn't realized how rare the choosing of a knight was and to do it before you had actually left training was practically unthinkable. However he quickly learned that Shadow was Shadow and when it came to certain things no one questioned his knowledge or his timing.

Over the course of the training, Blaze took the opportunity to talk to several of the knights about why he should take Shadow as his lover and why he should wait until he felt the time was right. They all cautioned him to listen to his inner guidance. So, although he wanted to join their bodies, he felt the need to wait, so Blaze waited. Then one afternoon he no longer felt that need and other needs rushed forward to be heard. He was glad for it.

 

"Blaze?" Shadow walked into their suite one evening after a particularly long practice session. He was having his own training with weapons and while he found some of them distasteful, he had taken to the staff quite well, so he was practicing extra with it to get better. Plus, it helped relieve some of the tension that had been growing within him -- tension that seemed to blossom in his groin whenever he got near his Mystic Knight. The mages who had their own knights kept telling him to just restrict Blaze's movements and ravish him. Once he got over the initial fear of his body being used in that manner he would submit the next time, but Shadow did not want to force his Knight. He wanted him to come to him. He wanted to be the one to tremble in submission. There should be no fear between them.

"In your room, the tub."

"Still?" Shadow pulled the sweat-sticky tunic from his body. "Hurry up, I need a bath too."

"I think I pulled a muscle, it's swollen."

"Well, why don't you go lay on the bed and I'll rub it out for you?"

Blaze smiled at him and stood up, forgoing the towel.

Shadow took a deep breath and his eyes widened slightly. "Which muscle did you pull, Blaze?"

"Why don't you come here and find out," the words were practically purred and it did strange things to Shadow's insides. He took a step forward before he even realized it.

"It's planting time at home," Shadow said as he reached Blaze's side. Since the day under the oak with Blaze his head felt less muddled most days, but there were still times he regressed and took on a child-like quality. Those were the times that Blaze held him closer and loved him more.

"That would explain the dreams I've been having," Blaze whispered as he leaned down a little and licked the side of Shadow's neck. "My god wants to plow your goddess."

"It's been planting time before, Blaze," Shadow protested.

"But I want to plow you, too," Blaze said and captured Shadow's mouth with his own.

When they parted, Shadow shivered and his breeches hit the floor. "We need fertile ground." He breathed against the skin he needed to touch so badly.

"Use your mind, Shadow, imagine us there. I'm going to take you there, to your field on the hillside under my oak tree. That is where we will plow. Imagine with me," Blaze whispered as he lifted Shadow against him and closed his eyes. Shadow whispered words of description from a childhood memory of the hillside, the oak tree, the stream nearby, the birds singing and as he surrendered to his Knight he cried out his own name as the memories once so garbled they might as well have been locked came flooding back.

 

The grass was high around them, hiding them from casual view and the oak tree above them dappled them in shadow allowing only errant sunbeams through. Like the one that woke Blaze up. He did not drift from one state to the other like Shadow was apt to do, but neither did he jerk awake. He just was aware of the birdsong and the slightly warmer patches of sunshine along his skin where moments before he was not. He lay on his side with Shadow tucked protectively to his chest, his arm pulling him close enough he could feel his lover's heart beat in tandem with his own. Shadow snuggled closer, no doubt feeling the chill in the air. Blaze felt the warm puff of Shadow's breath along his skin and the rightness of his love.

They had finally fully and without a doubt crossed that line they had dared not cross before now.

"Give up some blanket," Shadow grumbled as he curled in closer trying to get warm.

"There isn't any." Blaze ran his hand over Shadow's flank over the goose bumps the cold had raised. "You imagined your hillside rather well. My oak shelters us from the sun."

Shadow started to sit up, but Blaze yanked him back down. "Don't do that. You never know who might be out there looking."

"Where are we?" there was a quiver of fear in his voice.

"You know this place. You tell me about it all the time."

"My hill? Your oak? It is real?" Shadow looked skyward.

"Apparently. We're here."

"I remembered it. I used to come here when I was a child. The oak is bigger."

"I'm bigger too," Blaze teased, "So, you came here before they took us?"

Shadow nodded.

"Do you have any memories of that time?"

"You've never asked that before."

"I've never needed to before. We've always been on training rock; always with the mystics. I know they didn't birth us. Well I know they didn't birth me, anyway. I'm an Oak; that much is written on my heartwood. My name is Eland."

"Eland of Oak," Shadow whispered the name and kissed his lips. Then he pulled back and laid his head on Eland's shoulder. "I am younger than you, so I was younger at the taking. I remember bits and pieces. My father was, is, a powerful man." He sighed. "I remember my mother clearest though. She is beautiful. The goddess loved her. When they heard the Mystics were coming to take me away, they took me to the temple where the High Priestess prayed. She did things to me. All I remembered after that is the land and how I missed it." He touched it, digging his fingers in the ground. "I remember the feeling of connectedness to the land very clearly until they took me to training rock. I thought I had lost it then."

"You never lost it."

"I know that now, but I was there a long time. You showed me, under the other oak. That was the part of the ceremony the High Priestess forgot. I was too young when she started it. There should have been a surrogate who would have been regent had my parents been dead and the land was passing to me naturally, but she was hurried and forgot because my parents were not dead. My mother is not dead, Eland. She lives." Wetness painted his eyelashes, "She would bring me here and we would picnic. I loved it here. Loved that tree, I remember telling my mother that one day when I grew up I was going to be Calumn of Oak." He sighed happily and snuggled against his Knight. "She forbade me to ever speak of that to my father. I guess I knew even then my life would be tied to yours."

"So I'm written in your heartwood?"

"You are written in my heartwood."

They snuggled for a bit longer as the sun climbed a bit higher in the sky.

"This is nice, but how are we supposed to get back?"

"You mean you don't know?" Eland asked. "I thought... you are the mage and all."

"I don't know how this happened," Calumn admitted.

"Oh. So how do we get back?"

"I don't know."

"Can I panic now?"

"Mystic Knights do not panic."

"I know, but right now I don't feel much like a Mystic Knight."

"Me either," Calumn said as the sun moved across the sky, "so yeah, you can panic, but only if I can too."

"Yeah. But then we have to figure out how to get home."

"Which home?"

"Huh?"

"Well, if we don't know where we are, then they don't know where we are. Why do we have to go back directly?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I grew up near up here. I want to go home."

"Home home?"

Calumn nodded.

"Do you think we can?"

"We got this far..."

Eland grinned. "We don't have any clothes."

"Fine, panic now..."

 

After a few minutes of heart racing, fear-induced panic, Eland took a few deep breaths. "We need food. Clothes and a weapon would be nice too. Money would be really good."

"I can conjure..."

"Can you conjure ours? From back ho... there?"

"I don't know. I've never tried to move something that far. Most likely I will get something from a local farm."

"Something that someone will notice gone missing which will mark us as thieves." Eland shook his head, "best to be what we are then."

Calumn looked at him oddly.

"What are we?"

"Lost. Hungry. Naked. When we woke up this morning our camp had been raided and everything stolen. We were lucky to get away with our lives."

Calumn nodded, following along. "Someone will help us."

Eland smiled at him, "Can you tell where the nearest farm is?"

Calumn nodded and indicated a direction.

"Well let's head in that general direction but not directly at it."

Calumn blushed as he covered his genitals. "But we're naked. I can't walk around like this."

"I can always come back for you," Eland teased as he began to walk away.

"You wouldn't leave me here!" Calumn scrambled to catch up. "There might be bears or something."

"Oh I'm sure there is something, Calumn. At least you don't have to worry about any errant unicorns now." Eland teased as he slowly surveyed their surroundings. There were fields for a good distance, then trees and a bit of smoke in the far distance. It was going to be a long walk in the open. "Have you ever wondered why you were given guardianship of the land?"

"I've wondered that a lot in the past two years."

"I have too. There are only a few people who have that gift, Calumn."

"Most are goddess touched, which we both know that I am."

"Or they have powerful fathers, which we know that you do."

They walked in silence for a while.

 

-meanwhile back at the training grounds-

Jaom paced the floor. When Blaze had missed muster he let it slide. He knew the pair was very close to sealing their relationship. They could train the boy as a Knight until the moon fell out of the sky but until the two actually shared their bodies and more importantly -- their bodily fluids -- they were not finished training. Allistar then said that Shadow missed his morning lessons. A lesson he was teaching, not taking. One of the younger mages went up to the room and found the door closed, but not locked. The tub was full, but cold, and the sheets were mussed, but empty. He got a higher ranking mage. Eventually someone noticed Blaze's armor and weaponry was there and both sets of boots. So someone got a knight. No one suspected foul play, yet. But no one could explain where two well-trained Mystics, one a mage and one a knight, had gotten lost to overnight when apparently they took nothing with them.

To make matters worse, word had recently arrived from Hylndalle that the king was dying and his heir was needed home. Joam remembered who the heir of Hylndalle was. He had been with the group that had taken the boy from his mother that night.

Of course that had set off a few others into wanting their heirs back, including the arch nemesis of the King of Hylndalle, the King of Heartwood and his brother the Duke of Oak. Trouble was, Eland of Oak was also missing, although how the Oaks could tell which of the triplets had been born first and which was which through all these years still amazed Joam. It had to be some gift of the goddess, as it happened with each generation.

When Blaze chose Shadow so dramatically instead of allowing the mages to choose him, there had been so much hope they had found the key to ending the war they had been looking for, but when the boy refused to bed his mage and become a knight in truth that hope withered. Now it was barely alive at all.

His door opened and Allistar slipped in. "Well our trackers have said they are not in the immediate area. Whatever they planned they planned it well. They took nothing with them."

"Jewelry? Hair ties?"

"There are two rings unaccounted for, and some hair ties but they aren't enough. They didn't even take money from what we can tell. Blaze had a full purse in his room."

"Could they have been kidnapped?"

"Kidnapped from Training Rock?"

"I know, I know. I'm sorry. They aren't little boys any more are they? I just have an odd feeling about this. Like there's something else going on here."

"Should we check with the priestesses?"

"See if any of the old sect can be roused up."

"Consort worshipers? What would they have to do with this?"

"Blaze worships the consort."

"And you are just bringing this up now?"

"Was it important before now?" Joam asked his mage.

"Do you think he could have corrupted Shadow?"

"No, I think he might have completed him. The boys have all the markings to be the pair the priestesses have been looking for."

Allistar looked at his lover oddly. "They have been watching the girls. Why would you think the goddess' vessel would be a boy? How can he..." Allistar stopped speaking, of course he could, it was what they were waiting on them to do for Blaze to become a Knight, "Do you think they..."

"Blaze had been working up to it. We talked about it several times over the past few weeks. I didn't expect a formal announcement or anything..."

"Send escorts to Hylndalle, and to Heartwood. Sometimes certain events in a young mage's life can trigger memories. They might have left on their own. If we hurry we will arrive well before they do."

"Do you think he remembered who he was?"

"He was pretty messed up when we got him, I'm not sure he knew who he was back then. However, anything is possible. Tell whoever you send not to interfere if Shadow and Blaze do show up, but to protect our interests in peace."

"You're that sure they are together?"

"If Blaze finally gave in, nothing short of death would tear him from Shadow's side, and you know that as well as I do."

 

As they walked they talked of small things and tried to not think of their little hurts, hunger, or thirst. By the time they arrived at the gatepost that marked their way, they looked quite the pair: dirt smudged, blood smeared, cum stained, and blistered in places that should never see the sun. They edged up closer and saw that it was a small group of homesteads instead of a single one, which used a single hall to gather in the evening. It indicated it was probably an extended family unit that had outgrown the original home when the older children had grown and married. The way led through a field with fence on either side. It was wide enough for a cart to drive and a horse to pass it on either side unhampered. Eland walked boldly up the center Calumn at his side.

"There are at least eight adults."

"You can tell that?"

"I can if they are touching bare ground. There should be more, in the buildings."

"So twice that number, if the menfolk are outside and the womenfolk are inside," Eland said, "and any number of children."

"That's possible, but some of the women could be outside. Or they could be our age. It's hard to tell." Calumn began to lag behind so Eland stopped and turned to face him.

"Do you love your land Calumn? Is it written in your heartwood?"

"Yes," he breathed the word as if it were a prayer.

"Then love the people who work the land -- those who live and die for the land. They love it too. They protect the land they love. They protect you because you are the land and the land is you."

Calumn nodded and Eland thought he walked a little taller as they approached the homesteads. There were a few more than eight people by the time they were clearly visible, but most of them were little children barely elbow high. The adults looked to be farmers and herders, not soldiers. Eland looked at Calumn, "Do you want to stay here while I approach? Just stand where they can see you are naked like I'm telling them you are, but I'll tell them you are modest."

"I think..." Calumn scrunched up his face in thought, "I think I need to be at your side."

"At my side or my back?"

"Just don't back up too fast."

They approached the main hall boldly as possible with their hands over their groins so not to offend the women. Hounds began barking before they were even near their goal, and two men stepped forward to greet them.

"You look lost."

Eland stopped and Calumn bumped into him. "We are. Had a bit of a problem as you can see."

"Helcot, go find these two something to wear. Can't let them offend Mama with their balls hanging out. And you know she's going to want to feed the skinny one."

Eland breathed a sigh of relief as one of them left, hopefully to get them clothing. That would be one less thing to worry about.

"Now why don't you tell me how a Mystic Warrior and his charge got themselves stranded away from any aid while I show you where you can clean up?"

Eland groaned, but he and Calumn followed thankful to see water after most the day without.

"I could deny it." Eland protested after drinking his fill and wiping most of the grime from his face.

"You could, but it's written all over you. We've seen a plenty of them through here to know how they walk, how they talk. You've got their accent. That one that says you are from nowhere and everywhere all at once. And you have scars where no boy your age should unless you are nobility and a warrior. You might have your spurs, but that boy behind you is too old to be your squire and too different to be your brother."

"There are other reasons for me to be naked in the fields with a boy..." Eland challenged.

"Aye, there are, and you would do best to keep most of them to yourself around these parts. Some of the older ways are not so respected any more. In fact, since the king has gotten himself that new queen, many of the older ways aren't respected at all."

"New queen?" Calumn asked his hair dripping water along his shoulders and forming trails in the dirt on his body, "what happened to the old queen?"

"She went to live at the temple to be with the goddess when the king kept insisting their son was dead. The Mystics took him when they did that round up bit more than a fortnight of years ago now. . She still insists he is alive, says the goddess tells her it is so."

Helcot arrived with a pile of assorted clothing and some soap. "Mama said to get them cleaned up and covered up; the girls are trying to peek."

"You heard him -- wash then get dressed. Helcot, bring them in when they're decent."

It didn't take the long to follow those directions but Eland didn't like the way Calumn's skin was blistered. He had learned some healing as part of his training as a Mystic Knight, and he used that training now on Calumn. Eland's fingers danced along Calumn's skin and the redness faded the scratches healed and the soreness disappeared.

"You don't have to do that," Calumn said as he leaned back against Eland so he could heal the front.

"Yes I do. You're hurting." When he finished, he picked up a tunic and pulled it over Calumn's head. It hit him mid-thigh. "There now you are covered -- finish dressing."

"Let me help you."

"I'm fine," Eland smiled and picked up the second tunic, yanking it over his own head - it hit mid-hip. "My skin is tougher than yours. Besides we don't want to keep our hosts waiting." He pulled on the breeches he had been loaned. They were too loose, but they laced up tight enough to not fall down provided he tucked the tunic in.

"You two done playing out here? You're worse than..." Helcot blushed, "never mind what you are worse than. You are wanted in the house." Helcot opened the door and they walked through.

"You still haven't answered my question." The other man from earlier said to Eland as the young Knight passed him.

Eland looked him in the eye and said very quietly, "The gods sent us - all of them."

The man blinked. "You really believe that?"

Eland nodded. "I do. More importantly, he does." Eland indicated Calumn who was looking around the inside of the building, smiling at the people there, touching the little ones. These were his people. There were tears in his eyes.

"Mystics aren't wanted around here," an older man said gruffly.

"Hush, they didn't come to take the children," a matronly older woman said as she set two more plates at an already over-crowded table. "Sit down, both of you and be welcome at my table."

They weren't seated together, but they could see each other just fine. Eland tucked into his plate as soon as he saw it was being served from the same dish as everyone else and they were eating it just fine. Any woman who wanted to poison her own children to kill off him as well was welcome to do so.

"Is there a problem with the food?" the one called mama asked him.

"No," Calumn shook his head.

"Then maybe it's the company?" the male called papa, although he clearly was not the father of all the people present asked.

"No," Calumn seemed unsure of how to proceed. Eland had seen this before when his mage was trying to work through something in his head.

"Eat Calumn," Eland told him, "whatever it is can wait."

Calumn nodded his head, and began to eat. They both missed the looks that passed among the adults at the table. Looks of question and wonder and maybe hope.

"He's a shy one, your Calumn." Papa said as he and Eland sat talking after dinner.

"He is, always has been," Eland agreed.

"Not that common of a name, is it?"

"I'm not sure," Eland said, unsure where the conversation was going. "I'm not exactly from around these parts."

"So what brought you here?"

"Calumn said this was one of his favorite places to visit as a child... he wanted to show it to me."

Papa grunted. "There was a little boy that visited near here as a child before the Mystics took all the noble born heirs. He was a bit shy too, as I recall. He played with the older boys while his mother visited her people. Guess he would be a bit younger than you, round your mage's age I would wager. And if my memory isn't completely failing me, his name was Calumn."

"You know his mother?"

"Everyone in these parts knows of the queen. Took me a while to put it together, but he has her look. There's a little of his father too, but more of his mother. The women folk said he was goddess-touched when he was little. Jeferiah and Daffyd said he was addlebrained."

"Those who walk close to the gods usually are a little different," Eland smiled.

"Around these parts he would have been sent to the priestesses for training."

"They would have sent him to the Mystics eventually. He has a strong gift."

"Usually mystics with strong gifts get sent out with a gaggle of warriors. A person can't get near them for all the bodies."

Eland just watched Calumn talking to the other homesteaders. He was finally becoming comfortable.

"That is if they don't have a Knight," Papa said quietly.

Eland said nothing.

"Don't usually see a Knight so young though," Papa prompted, pushing for confirmation.

"Knights are rare at any age," Eland admitted.

"He's not going to come to harm here, Eland of Oak."

Eland turned and looked at the old man.

"Surprised you there, did I?" the old man laughed. "You look just like your brothers, maybe a little taller. You speak a little different. Helcot thought you were one of them at first. Not all that uncommon with the Duke expanding his lands to the south. He's been nothing but friendly to most of us on the border, just taking us over quiet-like. Not even sure if the king even notices. Of course there are a few pockets of resistance on your king's other borders. I hear that is where your brothers have gone to serve since they've received their spurs. Our Jeferiah and Daffyd ride with them. We are hoping they return soon. The younger of the two, Effram, he fancies my Mary. Been sniffing around here quite regularly for ages, thinking I don't know what they've been up to in the meadow. Not that the Duke is going to let them marry, even with the brats she birthed."

"There were two?"

"Yes, squalling red heads, just like their father. They're sleeping now. The little children eat dinner earlier than the older ones. The table is only so big."

"Two? Womb-mates? Did you mark the elder?"

"Was it important to do so?"

"It may one day be," Eland looked over at the homesteaders around Calumn. "He is to be your king. I am the Heir of Heartwood. I am his Knight."

"And you love him."

"I do and your grandson could possibly be my heir as our line of succession is passed not from father to son but from uncle to nephew, and only to those of a multiple birth as the king is married to the goddess as the representation of the god. A vessel is given to him to be her representation in his life. Calumn is the goddess to my god."

"But he is male," the old man said, his tone slightly disapproving.

"Do you question those who made us in their image?"

The old man said nothing for a while. Eland let him think.

 

Calumn lay quietly next to Eland as his Knight slept. The homesteaders had given them several blankets and a rather private place in the hay in the barn. Eland had been gentle with him again, but this time they had stayed put. Calumn figured it was because the goddess wanted him here at this place now, and Eland's god agreed.

He smiled at the thought of his Knight. Eland was a force to be reckoned with on the field of combat, but with him he was tender and sweet. It had taken Eland long enough to decide to join their blankets, but the goddess had warned him that it wasn't their time yet when they had come together the first time to heal him.

His dreams of late have been disturbed, but he had been unwilling to tell anyone about turtles that turned into snakes poised and ready to strike over a landscape that looked oddly familiar. Calumn would love to have access to some drawing tools, even hide and charcoal, to see what Eland thought of the map, although he wasn't sure if he would tell him why he was sharing it.

 

Eland stirred, his breathing changed, and then he sat up groping for the sword that wasn't there. "Someone's coming. Riding hard and fast!"

"What do you want to do?" Calumn asked as he began pulling on his tunic.

"Get dressed. We may need to protect the family," Eland said with surety. "Maybe someone will have a sword they can lend me."

"If they ever saw you use one, I'm sure they would be honored to allow you to protect them," Calumn told him as he watched his lover dress in the darkness.

They had exited the barn as the first of the hounds sounded an alarm. Papa and the older men filed out onto the various porches holding whatever arms they had. Helcot saw Eland coming and ran toward him bearing a baldric with a huge sword in a beautifully tooled scabbard. "It's too heavy for most of us. Jeferiah and Daffyd left it behind; Effram said someone would come along who would need it more than they did. Maybe that was you."

Eland hefted the weapon and smiled, then strapped it on with long practiced fingers. He didn't have anything on as way of armor so he best use the blade efficiently. He took a moment to pull the blade and give it a cursory exam, it looked sound and sharp. Then he slid it home again where it landed with a happy snick. That's all he could really ask for at a time like this.

The riders were now coming up between the trees at a pace intended to frighten the inhabitants. There were somewhere between a dozen and a score of them riding in a pack behind the leader, all on horseback. Eland looked around and he did see some fear on a couple of the younger men's faces but mostly grim determination. The women and children were inside with the windows were shuttered and barred with the older boys and infirm men for protection.

He had noticed a few arrow slots on the upper floor and wondered if that's where the older boys were. He hadn't thought to talk defense of the homestead with Papa, nor had he really felt the need to, but now that he thought about it -- their little homestead here was a holding supporting at least two knights and unbeknownst to many, his heirs. He would have to see about getting them some quarried stone instead of the field rock they had been using. A good solid wall wouldn't hurt anything.

The lead horse slowed to a trot then a halt, prancing in the moonlight. Eland did his best to suppress a snicker as the trick was all show and bluster, something every first year warrior learned to do. Calumn elbowed him. He scowled back and prepared to watch the show.

"Greetings Willow Creek Holding," the lead rider said from horseback. "I'm sorry for the late arrival. Your neighbors up at Bearclaw, well, they weren't as hospitable as we know you're going to be. Armed resistance and all," he shook his head, "I have a couple of their boys waiting in wagons down by the main road, conscripted now. Couple of their girls too," a few of his men chuckled, "well we don't exactly conscript the girls, you know." He slapped his thigh with the horse reins in a sign of impatience. "You know why we came. Is it ready?"

"You'll be meeting some here too, Jared of Kent. Tell your father I'll not be feeding his troops, or supporting his cause. We pay our levy to our King and we keep the rest. That is the law."

"There is a new law in this land, old man. My father's law. Conrad of Kent says you will support his causes. He sends me to see that you do. Conrad of Kent says that your sons will fight for him. I take your sons to fight for him."

"Conrad of Kent is not King," Eland said as he stepped forward. "Conrad of Kent is not god. I do believe what Papa was saying is that here at Willow Creek Holding, the law of god and King and followed, not the law of man. You and yours are not wanted here."

"You're not even old enough to earn your spurs yet and ride off after your older brothers, or you'd already be gone. All you border brats are alike," Jared scoffed, and then he turned to his men, "go find what we came for, take that little one there to help you." He pointed to Calumn.

Eland stiffened and Papa backed up several steps as he saw the change in Eland's demeanor. He dragged the younger men back with him. "Lay one finger on him and you will die." The whispered echoed. It didn't take any convincing then on Papa's behalf to move anyone to the relative safety of the porch.

Calumn didn't move. He closed his eyes and his lips moved. He was preparing the first of his combat spells and he closed his eyes because even after all this time the sight of Eland wielding a sword distracted him from his spell casting until the battle was fully engaged.

Eland smiled as he mentally prepared himself for battle. Calumn had his eyes closed. He knew he distracted his lover. It was well and good. He should distract his lover under normal circumstance, but the battlefield was not normal circumstance. Eland prayed Calumn would get over it, because having his eyes closed at the beginning of combat could be very dangerous.

To Eland's eyes, the moonlit night slipped to an odd shade of grey as he slipped into a fighting stance. He moved in between time. He could talk in one speed, but defensive and offensive moves came at another speed entirely. It was different than what they had taught him as a warrior and part of the reason, he realized, that Knights were so deadly.

"Put away Daddy's sword, little one. That blade is too big for you to handle anyway, wouldn't want you to cut yourself." The men were two steps from being even with Eland with Calumn slightly behind him still.

Eland stood his ground, slightly flexed and silent. The sword remained sheathed. Calumn opened his eyes and lifted one hand, flexing the fingers in a silent signal.

"If you wish to live go no further," Eland said quietly, not acknowledging the presence of the leader on horseback.

"What are you going to do, pretty boy?" the one on his right asked with a laugh, "stop us with that big poke stick?"

"I don't know Timmons; a boy that well hung might know how to poke pretty well."

Calumn finally spoke up from behind Eland. "Hey! You -- on the overgrown pony! Call off your watchdogs, and we'll let them live."

"Oh the other child speaks!" Jared of Kent laughed as he slid from his horse's back. "There will be no calling off. They will take you to the barn, and you will be thankful they do not prefer the company of little boys. However, mouthy half grown boys..."

Eland felt the finger twitch command and the energy as it moved past him and entwined around the boots and legs of Jared of Kent. His mind registered as the man fell face forward in the dirt in front of his horse.

However his body had other things to do.

Eland drew the bastard sword as Timmons lunged for him. He neatly sidestepped left as the bastard sword flew up in a deadly arc and sliced through flesh and snapped bone. Eland spun with the blade, letting the momentum carry him through the deadly dance that rooted deep into his heartwood since he was just a seedling.

The second swipe took flesh from the man next to his first opponent. There were more arcs. More fluid motion. One connected with another sword, then another. He felt the bite that told him he had been wounded. It wasn't fatal.

He fought on.

His focus narrowed to the space he occupied, Calumn, the non-combatants, and the enemy. Eventually, the enemy changed status.

Or they were just dead.

 

Helcot retreated to the porch when Papa indicated he should, but he didn't want to. However, when Eland threatened Jared, everyone wanted to. Some even looked like they would go back into the house if they could, but everyone knew the doors and windows were barred and would stay that way unless something horrible happened. Helcot had practiced with Jeferiah, Daffyd, and Effram of Oak when they were banging each other up in the practice field before gaining their spurs, so he sort of recognized when Eland moved into his fighting stance. It was an odd one though because the sword was still sheathed. Then people starting moving.

He wasn't quite sure what made Jared fall and started wrestling in the dirt with something Helcot couldn't see but his men surged forward to attack.

Papa yelled at them to keep their weapons sheathed until he said otherwise. "And for the sake of the goddess and your mothers stay on the porch!" Helcot really didn't understand that part, but he didn't move. He didn't want to. He couldn't stop watching Eland. In fact he was so intent on watching Eland that he almost missed Calumn as he leaned over Jared of Kent and said something to the man. Helcot poked his cousin and pointed and the other boy shook his head.

"But he was just back there."

"I know."

"Should we help them?"

Papa leaned forward and poked both of them. "Yes you should. By staying here on this porch until I tell you otherwise. That's not a warrior like you've seen before. Right now you aren't a threat. Stay that way and you will stay alive."

"How does he fight with other people then?"

"Son, boys like that are sent in with warriors specifically trained to fight with them. They understand that to make a mistake is to die. I don't want you dead, so you stay here."

"Are Jeferiah and Daffyd trained?"

"I would think that by now they would be used to them, but they aren't Mystic Warriors, just Warriors."

"So what does that make him?"

"That, my lads, is a Knight." Papa told him as the last man fell.

"And Calumn?"

"He is a Mystic; they always come as a pair, the Mage and the Knight."

"You remember when Daffyd got his spurs. There were two men presiding over the ceremony. Jeferiah said only a Knight could give a man his spurs."

There was nodding on the porch as wide eyed men - young and old -- looked out, wondering if it was safe yet. Calumn was kneeling next to Jared with one hand on his head and one hand on his chest. It looked as if he were praying, but no one was close enough to hear. Eland stood gripping the pommel of his borrowed sword with two hands, the tip pointing downward. He was breathing hard, but his feet were planted as if he expected one of the downed men around him to rise up and attack at any moment.

Calumn finished with Jared, leaving him sitting in the dirt weeping openly, his hands and feet still bound with bindings no one could see.

"Gather the strayed horses. They will need to be tended," he said as he approached the porch, "and send a couple men down to the wagons. There are some children there that are frightened. He left two men to guard them. If they touched the children, bring them to me. If they did not, bring them to Eland. If you have healing supplies..." he looked at the mess Eland had made, "some of them may yet breathe."

"Is he going to be all right?" Papa asked after sending his sons and grandsons to do as the Mystic bid.

"He will be fine. He needs to be alone for a little while with the dead if we can allow him that."

"Alone?"

"He is a very young Knight, Papa. Just how many men do you think he's actually killed? So yes, alone, for his rituals."

 

Eland finally got enough air, but in doing so, the stench of death had seeped into him. They had warned him and warned him it would be bad, really bad since he had killed Fletcher in his transition of becoming a Knight. The Oracle had even given a reading warning his early years would be the bloodiest in the history of any Knight. But he had not expected this carnage. Nor had he expected Calumn giving him leave to do it.

People came and began separating the living from the dead. People he ate dinner with and laughed with. Now they looked at him with sidelong glances. He pulled what was left of the tunic off and used it to wipe the blade before sheathing it. He would have to give it a proper cleaning and sharpening later. Then he bent down and helped with the separating.

"You need stitches."

Eland turned and looked at the speaker. It was a young woman, pretty too.

"You're wounded. It needs stitches."

"Calumn will take care of it when he finishes with the others. Where do you want me to put the dead?"

"Anywhere in that field will do, we'll bury them back by the apple trees tomorrow."

"No, not by the apple trees, and not tomorrow; this must be done now. I need," Eland closed his eyes this time, "a fertile field - tilled or newly planted - land ready to accept them. I will need a bucket of water for each of them too and some cloth."

"I'll have one of the boys bring the things you need and show you where." By the time the bodies had been moved and the things he needed had been gathered, Calumn had taken the time to see to his wound and Eland was ready to begin. Calumn promised him privacy for as long as it took, then kissed him and sent him to do his duty.

 

It was nearly dawn by the time the wagons rambled up the road. The horses had been rounded up, unsaddled, brushed down, and fed. The bodies had been stripped, laid out side by side in the field, and washed. Now Eland knelt and prayed -- first to the goddess, then to the god. This was not a bloody ritual as most people would suspect, but one of love and forgiveness. He prayed for the men he killed and wished them happiness in the afterlife. The bodies slowly sunk into the ground as the sky pinkened, and they were fully gone by the time the sun sky had lightened enough to see clearly. Under normal circumstances his duty would have been finished, but there was a niggling. He wasn't sure if it was in him, in one of the men, or in the very land itself. Calumn would know better, but the ties that bound them opened Eland to some of these odd feelings when it came to protection he had discovered, especially when it came to protecting Calumn. So instead of asking Calumn, he opened himself to the gods and asked them.

He almost wished he had asked Calumn instead.

When Eland finally rose the sun was nearing its zenith. He gathered as much gear as he could carry and headed back toward the houses. Another of the clan ran up to him to help him carry, but he sent the boy to the field to gather the other things. Several ran off, eager to help the Knight. He dumped the things unceremoniously on the grass to be sorted later and went to find Calumn. He found him with Jared of Kent and two other captives.

"Have you decided what we are doing with him?"

"He is guilty of so many crimes that he has not yet finished confessing them," Calumn said quietly. "His soul is very burdened, Eland, and not just from collecting his father's illegal levies. He has witnessed his father and his uncles commit atrocities in my father's name and in your uncle's name. As for them," Calumn shuddered, "I've only just begun. There was something I wanted to talk to you about this morning - before you woke I had a dream."

Eland nodded. "The army hiding in the desert. They are poised to attack."

"We have to warn people."

"I think perhaps we are the alarm bell, Calumn," Eland said. "We are where the goddess and the god want us to be. I know that. The entire Knight Hall couldn't restrain us when they wanted us here. We found people who knew both our families, yet took us in anyway, and treated us like family. They knew both who and what we are. For us there is no going back. We are what the mystics made us, but we must now be who the gods made us."

"But what if..."

Eland smiled at Calumn as he placed a finger on his lips ending his protest.

"You would deny me?"

Calumn shook his head.

"Do you remember how you knew I was your Knight?"

Calumn nodded.

"That's how I know."