The Sanctuary - 1. Two Strangers

Justin

The sky had taken on that heavy feeling that meant the storm was no longer something that might pass north of them. Justin had been watching the pressure change for the last candlemark, the way the wind dropped and then shifted so that the cold came in under the pines rather than over them, and the animal-emotions that usually threaded the undergrowth had gone thin and distant. He was close enough to a small Ranger’s Nook that the weather should not have mattered, but the forecast he had been given before he left the training grounds had not accounted for how quickly the northern storms could decide to erupt. He had finished his training only a tenday earlier and was traveling home to visit his family before his first assigned patrol circuit began. The Ranger Commander had mentioned this particular Nook because Justin’s route cut near it and because the main stations along the proper roads were already carrying the usual autumn traffic of Rangers on circuit. The Nook sat in a natural cave system that had been improved just enough to be usable: outer concealment, runic locks keyed to the amulet he carried, three pallets, a privy, a kitchen alcove, and stores meant for one to three people for a short stay. It was definitely not the kind of place a full patrol would plan to hold for a month.

He was within sight of the rise that hid the entrance when the emptiness registered. Not the ordinary absence of feeling that came with cold or exhaustion, but something deliberate, a pressure of someone trying not to be felt at all. Justin slowed, strengthened the scan just enough to confirm there was no active hostility, and found the boy under the low pine branches. The body was curled tightly into itself, half-tucked beneath the lowest boughs so that only the dark of the hair and one bare foot showed against the needles. Justin would have missed it entirely if the emotional signal had not pulled at him. It was an emptiness layered over pain and a thin, exhausted fear.

A careful surface scan from close range gave a name and an age that put him near Justin’s own seventeen or eighteen winters. The rest of what Justin felt confirmed what the emptiness and the thinness of the body had already suggested. He approached slowly and spoke the name when he was close enough that the boy might hear him.

“Toby. Can you hear me? My name is Justin.”

Very large cobalt blue eyes opened and looked at him. They held no immediate reaction, only a deep, haunted blankness that Justin recognized as the aftermath of nothing good. He asked whether Toby had somewhere to go. After a long moment the boy shook his head, the movement so slight it was almost not a movement at all. Justin told him there was a place nearby that was safe and warm, and asked if he wanted to come. Another long pause, then a small nod.

“I’m going to cast a healing spell,” Justin said. “It will probably feel odd, but it will help. Is it all right if I touch you?”

The nod came faster this time. Justin carefully opened the rags that served as the boy’s shirt and nearly growled at the cuts and bruises across the torso, at the clear evidence of long hunger. He focused his will and initiated a powerful healing spell just before his hands came into contact with Toby’s skin. The boy gasped as the power rushed through him. Justin kept the magic centered on the chest and body core, wanting to understand the full pattern of injury so he could tailor the work. During the close contact he caught a residue that did not belong to Toby’s own fear—another person’s sharp urgency, the fear of being discovered, the sense of pursuit still close. It was not a memory he could read. It was only the emotional stain left behind. Toby slumped unconscious as Justin had expected. He cast a lightening charm to make the boy easier to carry, then felt a wave of tiredness move through him. He had used more energy with that spell than he had intended. The cold had already begun to settle into the places the magic had pulled heat from, and his hands were not as steady as they should have been when he straightened.

The snow that had been threatening was started falling in earnest now, and the temperature was dropping quickly. He picked Toby up and lengthened his stride toward the rise and the safety of the Nook.

This Ranger’s Nook was actually a hidden cave. From the outside you would never know the entrance was there; it was a carefully planned trick of the light tucked behind the dense pines. You had to approach very close to see it. The outer chamber would have been enough for a summer night, but never for the winter storm that was currently settling in over them. Justin set Toby down carefully inside the outer cave and got hit with a wave of lightheadedness when he stood. It was a sure sign that he needed rest immediately. He read the Ranger Runic marks on the wall, removed the amulet the Commander had attuned to him, and pressed it against the specific location that triggered the secret door into the deeper caves. He moved the door open enough to get through, bent down for Toby again, and brought him into the entry chamber before he closed the outer door.

As soon as the door was closed, the chamber lit in a pale blue light from magical runes etched into the ceiling. Justin reviewed the opening procedure in his head as he took a breath. He spotted the heavy bar in a hollow behind the door and lifted it out. Once he had it placed across the door, preventing it from opening again, a soft click could be heard on the opposite side of the chamber. Walking over to a small door, he found a rounded hollow underneath that fit his amulet. He took it off and pressed it into the hollow and whispered the old Northern word for sanctuary under his breath. The inner door unlocked and popped open enough for him to grab it and pull it open. Warmth escaped from within as well as the warm orange glow of firelight.

He picked up Toby once more and brought him into the inner chamber. It was small. There were three sleeping pallets and three small side chambers. One was a privy, one a kitchen, and one stuffed full of supply shelves. He lay Toby down on a pallet, covered him with the blanket that was folded at the end, and turned to close the door. He leaned against the wall as a wave of dizziness hit him again. He had clearly used far more energy healing and moving Toby than he had anticipated. After taking a few deep breaths, he got the door closed, moving four heavy locking bars into place, sealing it shut. The small fire in the pit burned cheerfully in the air with no apparent source of fuel. Only careful inspection showed runes from a mage that allowed the small, cheerful flame, to light and eat this small sanctuary.

Knowing it would be very unwise to go to sleep without eating something, he went to the other chamber and got out a field ration. It was a bit of venison jerky with some nuts and berries. It was enough to hold him over along with a few cups of water from the well pump. A high-quality Gnomish design, he remembered from his training. You could always rely on the Gnomes to produce mechanical wonders, though rarely as practical as a water pump. Once satisfied he would not wake up famished, he grabbed more blankets from the storage room, carefully putting two over Toby and bringing the other to his own pallet. He liberated the blanket from the empty pallet as well. He stripped down to his small clothes and crawled into the pallet. He passed out almost as soon as he had the blankets spread out around him.

* * *

Toby

Toby came awake all at once. His grogginess and disorientation from earlier was gone. The injuries he had were healed from either the magical healing Justin had given him or from feeding on the protective emotion Justin felt for him as he was carried. Freely given, unprompted protection was a powerful emotional source. Usually, the easiest emotion to harness and feed on was lust. Justin was unusual in that he felt attraction but also the need to protect. But definitely not lust. Although lust was a strong, fast source of emotion, it was not the safest source unless he wanted to satisfy whatever lust he triggered in another. Not satisfying deliberated provoked lust led to anger, and anger was too sour to feed on. To say nothing of worse responses than just anger.

The hunger from his stomach was manageable. But he needed physical contact and someone to bond to. Making up his mind that Justin was suitable, he got out of his pallet with a shiver. He stripped off his remaining clothes completely and went over to the pallet Justin was sleeping in. He carefully opened the blanket cocoon and wedged himself in with his benefactor. He carefully wrapped Justin’s arms around him, so that he was well snuggled.

Justin stirred enough to realize he was there, freeing an arm to pull the blankets over both of them and pulling Toby a bit closer to himself. Toby felt delighted. Justin cared about him and wanted to keep him. This was the limit the elders insisted upon. The elders were not helpful in explaining a lot of things, expecting each youngling to figure things out for themselves. Toby’s experience since leaving the enclave had been less than ideal. The Kingdom of Erif was the safest place for his people, but he still nearly died because he glimpsed something dangerous when he was skimming emotions for sustenance.

Toby shivered a bit from the memories and Justin stirred behind him, pulling him even closer and ensuring he was well covered. Toby opened the bond further between them, with Justin’s acceptance of him. He felt a bit more resistance than the elders said was typical, but he wasn’t weak. He squirmed through the resistance. He was very careful as forcing it might cause pain, and that’s not something he wanted to do to someone who was caring for him. It took a lot longer than he thought it would, but he felt the bond settle firmly and shockingly deep. He could sense Justin and suddenly realized that Justin could sense him too.

The realization sat in him like cold water. He had expected the connection to be one-way, the way it always was. The elders had never described a case in which the other person could feel the bond in return. Justin’s magic had caught it somehow and turned it. Toby lay very still, feeling the new reciprocity settle, and wondered what he had done. The awareness moved in both directions now, and he could feel Justin’s fatigue and the low, steady protectiveness that had not lessened even in sleep. He did not know what that meant for the choosing he had just completed. He only knew the connection had not stayed where his people expected it to stay.

Toby must of fallen asleep again because he only snapped back into awareness when he felt Justin pulling away from him. He panicked at the loss of warmth. “You chose.”

A pause before he heard, “I did, but so did you, it seems.”

“I don’t understand.”

Justin pulled him close again, so that his chest was pressed again Toby’s back, and his arms encircled him with the blankets. “I know what you are Toby and how your people treat attraction and lust as consent for more. I thought it was more important to help heal and protect you. Last night when you joined me, you were cold, so I pulled you close and made sure you were warm. I knew you would take that to mean more, but I am attracted to you and knew I could keep my own mind.

“I felt safe and protected around you. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Justin tugged him tighter against him again. “I appreciate that. But I think you’ve entwined us pretty tightly together with your bond.”

“I am not sure what that means.”

“I don’t either, but I guess we’ll learn together.”

Toby stayed where he was, the bond still settling between them. He could feel Justin’s honesty in the words and the absence of anger. The elders had never prepared him for a choosing that looked back. He did not know yet whether that made the connection safer or more dangerous. For the moment, the warmth and the fact that Justin had not pushed him away were enough.

* * *

Oleg

Oleg looked south when he felt the slight shift in the air. There was a storm coming. Probably a bad one. He felt a steady drumbeat of concern coming from the shrine. Typically, when he felt that from the God of Travelers, it meant very bad weather for people on the road and anyone caught out in the storm. It solidified his plans to finish stocking for winter. He ran through a list in his head of the few things he had left to do.

He decided he would clear the traplines first and deal with anything he caught. It was a good thing he did, as he was lucky to get three nicely plump rabbits. He gutted them and brought the rest to his kitchen area to deal with later. He planned to use the skins as part of a heavy cloak while the meat went straight into a stewpot for later. He did that routine quickly. He stripped off his shirt so that he could sweat without making a mess of his clothes while he finished chopping up wood for the winter.

The steady rhythm of the axe had settled into his shoulders and the small of his back, the same rhythm he had used for the last two years whenever the woodpile needed rebuilding before the real cold arrived. Oleg kept his attention on the grain of the log in front of him, on the place where the blade would bite cleanly, because the work went faster when he did not let his mind wander toward the empty cabin or the shrine’s low, persistent warning. He had almost finished the pile he had set aside for the day when the sense of another person registered at the edge of the clearing. The jolt moved through him, sharp and private. His hands did not falter on the next swing. He finished the split, set the axe head against the chopping block, and only then turned his head.

The boy stood just beyond the last of the cut wood, holding himself carefully, as if movement cost him. His clothes had been good once. Now they were torn and marked with dried blood, and the way he watched the tree line behind him said he had been running for longer than was wise in this weather. Oleg had nearly dropped the axe when the figure first registered at the edge of the clearing. He set the blade against the chopping block and looked the other boy over once, taking in the fine cloth, the cuts and scrapes, and the fact that he did not belong here. The jolt that had moved through him was still present, sharp and private, but his hands stayed steady.

Nearly sixteen winters, and he had lived alone in this clearing since the plague took his father two years ago. His mother had been gone since he was five. Most of the people in the nearest village had died in the same sickness, and he had walked the long road there only a handful of times since, because everything he needed to survive could be found or made in the forest around the cabin. Winter was already coming on faster than anyone wanted, and the shrine had been uneasy all morning. None of that changed the fact that an injured boy was standing in his clearing and asking, without words yet, whether he would be turned away.

“Hide me. Please,” the boy begged in a low voice that was laced with pain.

Oleg nodded quickly and hurriedly ushered the other boy inside. He closed the cabin door and quickly moved aside some of the thresh matting on the floor to reveal a wooden door. He pulled it open and pointed down the rungs of the small ladder. The other boy looked relieved and quickly disappeared into the dark hole. Oleg closed the door and quickly covered it. He went back outside, carrying a water skin. He was next to his woodpile, gulping down water, sweat gleaming off his bare chest, when the men on horses appeared.

“You boy! Have you seen a dark-haired youth your age?” the largest man asked from his saddle.

“No, my lord. I haven’t seen a soul in ages.”

The man looked closely at the boy’s bare chest and the small tattoo over his heart. The man jumped down from his horse and went right up to Oleg. He traced the blue crescent moon tattoo with his finger, feeling the distinct tingle of magic.

“Where did you get this marking, boy?” he asked with a dangerous edge in his voice.

“My father gave it to me. He was a priest of Gealach.”

“What would a priest of the god of travelers be doing living in one place?” another man asked.

“I know not my father’s motives. He died over two years ago in the plague.”

“So much for prayers for him then, no?” a different man laughed from his saddle.

“His prayers weren’t for himself,” Oleg corrected the man quietly with a closed-off expression on his face.

The first man made a hand gesture, which cut off any response. “You’d do well to run to the village if you see any such boy in fine clothes around here. He is dangerous.”

“As you say, my lord,” Oleg murmured in response.

The man climbed back on his horse and made the sign against evil as he herded his men away. Oleg overheard the man’s hoarse whispered command to his men.

“We must be gone from this place immediately. That boy is nothing but trouble for us, and we dare not come near him again.”

Oleg was surprised, but he let it go. He hurried back inside once he was sure they were gone. His father had taught him a great deal about the healing arts, so he had made his own herbal bag for healing. He quickly opened the secret room and climbed down. The boy was unconscious and would not wake up despite several strenuous attempts. Oleg quickly started to pull clothes off the boy to find out where he had been hurt. There were several cuts and one very troubling stab wound below the boy’s belly. It was not very deep, but it already looked infected. He cleaned it carefully and packed it with the root of eferil, renowned for its cleansing properties. It could draw the poisons out of the body.

As soon as he was sure the boy was all taken care of, he went back outside. He quickly gathered the wood he had cut and carried in several trips to the back of the small shack. He squeezed in through the back door and stacked the remaining wood on the very large pile. The double door in the rear, which opened inwards, was closed next. He carefully threw the heavy bolts home on both doors, top and bottom. He then settled a thick oaken beam across both doors. He checked around the doors for any obvious breaks to the outside. He found none. Satisfied, he lit a small lamp and then closed the heavy wooden shutter over the tiny window in the room. He barred it as well and made sure that it was completely sealed.

He walked through the very narrow path in the room full of chopped wood. He stepped back into the cabin’s main room. He carefully sealed the outside shutters and then the inside shutters on both of the room’s windows. Once he was satisfied, he stepped outside again. The temperature had dropped dramatically, as he had known it would. Winter had arrived, and it was going to be the worst in years. Heavy snowflakes started whirling out of the sky. In almost no time at all, the ground turned white. Oleg hurried back inside and closed the heavy door. This door, like the ones in back, was set into the floor somehow so that closing it sealed the inside from the outside perfectly. Snow coming under the door is a common problem that spelled doom for more than one family in this area.

He did a quick walk around the rest of the cabin. It had narrow stairs leading to the loft area. The only things in the loft area were heavy furs and snowshoes. There was also a heavy door that opened inward, allowing one to step outside when the snow wasn’t too deep. The door was locked tight against the heavy winds. He walked back to the main level of the cabin and ensured that the remaining shutters were tightly secured. There was a small fire burning in the hearth. The hearth itself was surrounded by large chunks of iron, which radiated heat well into the room rather than straight up the flue.

He carefully removed the threshing from over the trap door. He then lifted and removed the trapdoor, since it was no longer needed until the snow was gone. He opened the next panel in the floor before he clambered down the steep ladder. He unhooked the ladder next. After he was all set, he pulled out a steep stairway that was behind the ladder on the wall. He put it in place and secured it. There was now a regular stairway down into the room below ground.

The room itself was odd. The walls looked as if they were carved directly from solid stone. The floor was also stone, though it was scrubbed to a shine. There was a large doorway on the far wall leading up to the stairs, and many shelves crammed against the walls all the way down. On the floor in front of the doorway was a sleeping pallet. On the pallet was the boy who had previously been wearing fine clothes. He was now wrapped tightly in a woolen blanket.

The boy stirred briefly before his eyes popped open. He felt his naked body over, gently probing each of the bandaged locations. “What happened?”

“Some men came by looking for you. They left in a hurry, and after they were gone, I patched you up.”

“Thank you. I owe you my life.”

Oleg blushed lightly. “My father told me always to help a traveler in need. It is the way of the north. I’m afraid you are trapped here with me until at least the first major snowstorm has passed. It will be a couple of tendays at the least.”

“Oh. People will be looking for me.”

“People are already looking for you… What do I call you? My name is Oleg.”

“My friends call me Ethan.”

“Well, Ethan, welcome to my home. It is nothing rich, but it is warm and fairly comfortable by woodsman standards.”

“What is this room?”

“It is the entranceway to the holy caverns.”

“Holy caverns?”

“I’ll explain later. We’ll have plenty of time.”

Ethan nodded, but did not reply. Oleg went back upstairs, and Ethan followed.

“Don’t try to open that door. We’ll freeze to death before you’ll get it closed again.”

“What?”

“The winters are much worse here than they are in the cities. The snow will be twice our height at least by the end of the week.”

“All the more reason to leave now.”

“Go stand near the door. Tell me what you hear and feel.”

Ethan walked reluctantly towards the door. He could hear the wind howling, and he could feel the cold air seeping in around what appeared to be a very thick door. A look of understanding crossed his face.

“We’ll sleep down in the keeper’s chamber for now. It’ll be warmer there than up here.”

“I…”

“There is only one sleeping mat, but we should be able to make do. I think we can find some warm clothes for you. Are you used to the cold?”

“Not like this, no.”

Oleg watched the other boy carefully, “Then we’ll need to sleep together for warmth. The extra body will help keep you warm. We’ll have to be close on the mat anyway, so sharing blankets won’t be that much of an intrusion. I would be worried about you getting too cold, otherwise.”

Ethan looked conflicted, then only nodded, apparently not trusting his voice. The wind continued to press against the outer door. Ethan stood where he was for a moment longer, listening to it, and felt the weight of everything he had not said settle between them. Oleg had not asked. The absence of the question was its own kind of space. Ethan did not know yet whether he would fill it. He only knew that the storm had already made the choice of leaving impossible, and that the boy who had hidden him was still waiting, without pressure, for whatever he decided to do next.

For those familiar with my writing, these four characters were introduced in two different flash fiction chapters of my fantasy flash fiction collection.  People asked for an expanded story and well, here it is.