Atonement

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from the book series the Banned and the Banished and I'm not making any money from this fic

Summary: Shorkan waits to make amends to his brother in the afterlife

Warning(s): Spoilers for all five books of the Banned and the Banished; spanking; some violence

Author's Note: I'll provide a bit of background here, just in case people don't know the series. If you do already, feel free to just skip down to the line break.

The books tell the story of Elena, wit'ch of Alasea. Years before she was born, the land of Alasea was beset by dark forces. The spirit of Chi, which provided the mages with their power, had disappeared – and those mages attempting to renew their powers by reaching into the sunlight only pulled back stumps.

During this time, three mages gathered – Shorkan of the Standi people, the one-armed mage Greshym, and the boy De'nal. Fulfilling an ancient prophecy, the three of them performed a ritual to create a book – the one to belong to the wit'ch and that would eventually save Alasea. Everything good and pure was drawn out of them, to be imbued in the book. However, what was left – all of the darkness and foulness – was given to the Dark Lord, to be used in any way that he saw fit. Because of this, the three mages became tools and Shorkan, brother to Er'ril (protector of the book and then of the wit'ch) became the right-hand of the Dark Lord.

I think that about covers it. I would recommend the series if you like fantasy, but it's more in the realm of fantasy horror. Well-written, but very violent

"Do you really think he'll come?"

Shorkan looked towards Greshym, his eyes automatically moving lower to the man's arms... both of them. Here in the afterlife, each of them appeared whole in body as well as spirit. Returned to the man of honour he had once been, Shorkan's realisation of what he had become had caused tears and self-recriminations while he'd been alone, tears which he'd fought back upon realising his fellow mages were also going to join him.

If he wanted to make sure his friends – and particularly De'nal – didn't feel any guilt, Shorkan had to make sure they couldn't see how affected he was by his own actions.

"I don't know," Shorkan said in answer to the older mage's question. "I would hope my brother would come, but it's possible he may bypass this part of the afterlife entirely." Shorkan didn't say it out loud, but he thought perhaps – with the Standi plains all around him – this place would hold too many painful memories for Er'ril.

Shorkan wouldn't be able to blame Er'ril if his brother didn't want to come here. After all, this area signified everything Er'ril had lost. Why would he expect his brother – whole once more – to be here? Shorkan wasn't even sure how he'd feel if their positions were reversed.

"You don't need to keep blaming yourself," Greshym said, his voice gruff. "None of us knew what it would cost us to forge the book. To feel guilt serves no purpose. We provided the tool to save Alesea at great cost to ourselves. Do you think anyone would blame us for what happened?"

Shorkan's attention was drawn automatically to De'nal. The ritual had already been underway when the boy had forced his way out of the circle, but Shorkan had been aware of the splitting of his soul that had already begun to take place. There had been no breath to warn his brother of the coming danger, but Er'ril had been able to react to it. "I'm sorry," he said out loud to the boy.

"I was willing to sacrifice myself for the book." De'nal lowered his head. "I just wish I could have been strong enough to go through with the ritual in the first place."

"It was hard for me – and for Greshym, too, I imagine," Shorkan said without any hesitation. "There is no shame in feeling fear – and you shouldn't feel bad for wanting to flee the cost. I too wanted to run."

"But you didn't." De'nal spoke softly.

"Shorkan is right, boy." Greshym looked at De'nal. "There is no shame in the fear you felt. You were only a boy and although you have grown in maturity since then, it was hard enough for us to do it – and we were mages with years of experience behind us." He spoke gruffly, but there was a certain amount of fondness in his voice either way.

"You should make peace with what happened," Shorkan said.

"That's good advice," Greshym commented. "You should take it."

"I did everything I could to hurt my brother." Shorkan spoke sombrely, each memory hitting him like a sword stroke – though he suspected a blade would hurt less. "I nearly killed him. There is very little more evil than a man who would kill his own brother."

"Do you really think your brother would blame you?" Greshym asked.

" I don't know." Every time Shorkan tried to imagine how Er'ril would react to him, he shied away from those thoughts. He wasn't sure his brother could blame him as much as he blamed himself, but just the thought of knowing for sure that he'd lost his brother's love hurt. He didn't want to know for sure. If he didn't see Er'ril in the afterlife, he could pretend that their relationship wasn't completely broken.

"We can't ask for pardon from everyone who our actions harmed," Greshym stated. "Even seeing us again would, more than likely, cause more harm than good."

"I just want it from my brother."

"How did you feel when your spirits were reunited?" De'nal asked. "For me, it was like waking up from a nightmare – only it wasn't just a bad dream. It was real. Every bad dream I ever had before paled in comparison to how it felt when I came here."

Greshym was silent for a few moments, but when he finally spoke, his voice was soft and filled with more pain than Shorkan had ever heard from the older mage. "I don't even know how long I spent railing against everything and everyone – from that accursed prophecy; to you, Shorkan, for even forcing us to do this in the first place; and finally myself, for agreeing to do this... and for everything I had done as the Dark Lord's instrument."

Shorkan didn't want to admit how he was feeling, but both De'nal and Greshym had and he felt he owed it to them to answer honestly. "I spent I don't even know how long in tears once everything I had done hit me," he said quietly. "Even with the knowledge that I would do it all over again, knowing what I know now, it was hard."

"You always did take too much on yourself, Shorkan," Greshym said.

"I'm choosing to take responsibility for what I've done," Shorkan answered. "I want to make amends for my actions." He doubted that anything could ever be enough, but he wanted to do what he could – and maybe eventually, he would feel worthy of redemption.

"Shorkan? Brother?"

Shorkan went still at the familiar voice behind him. Pain sliced through him, like a knife through his stomach. Turning around was the last and only thing he wanted to do, but this had been what he wanted, hadn't it? Slowly, he turned round – although he lowered his head so that he didn't have to make eye contact with his brother, staring instead at Er'ril's boots. He flinched automatically as they moved closer, but before he could do anything, he found himself caught in a hard, tight embrace.

"It's good to see you whole again." Er'ril's voice was rough with emotion.

Shorkan closed his eyes and leaned his head against his brother's shoulder. Slowly, cautiously, his arms came up and around Er'ril's back, until he was hugging his brother just as tightly in return. He took a deep breath, inhaling the familiar scent of his older brother. It was like coming home and he felt tears fill his eyes. It wouldn't take much for him to begin bawling in Er'ril's arms and he tightened his hold and clenched his jaw, trying to force the tears away. "I'm sorry," he said, voice sounding choked even to his own ears. "I'm so sorry."

"I know the cost of forging the Book. I know that it split your soul and brought out everything foul and sick inside of you. Brother, I cannot blame you for what you've done. You don't need to ask my forgiveness. It has always been yours," Er'ril promised.

Shorkan shuddered. "I can't..." His voice trailed off, but he knew what he couldn't say. He didn't feel worthy of his brother's forgiveness. He couldn't forgive himself.

There was a pause and then Er'ril's arms loosened around Shorkan, who felt like he wanted to cry in despair at the loss of the contact. Er'ril stepped past Shorkan and addressed Greshym and De'nal. "Will you excuse me and my brother for a while?" he asked.

"Of course," Greshym replied. "Come, De'nal. We will return later."

Shorkan watched as his two friends left and then turned to Er'ril. Before he could speak, however, Er'ril did, his voice soft. "I could tell you I forgive you and don't blame you over and over again, but if you won't listen to me, talking isn't going to help." His hands moved to his sword belt at his waist and he began to unbuckle it. Laying his sword on the ground, he folded the belt in his hand.

Shorkan took a step backwards. It might have been a long time ago since he'd last faced his older brother's belt, but he hadn't forgotten how painful it was. "Er'ril..." He couldn't complete that.

"It'll make you feel better," Er'ril replied. "You don't need to deal with this guilt, Shorkan. Let me help you with it."

Shorkan felt his stomach clench with dread. He'd been punished a lot while growing up – by his father and by Er'ril – but the belt had only ever been used for more serious offences.

Of course, that was what this was.

Apparently seeing Shorkan's decision on his face, Er'ril extended his free hand towards Shorkan. "Let me take care of you."

Shorkan slowly walked over to his brother, his feet dragging along the ground a little. As soon as he was within arm's reach, Er'ril took his wrist and pulled him in closer. After a glance round, Er'ril took a seat on the ground and used his grip on Shorkan's wrist to pull his brother across his lap. Shorkan leaned his arms on the ground and rested his head on them, feeling at once both vulnerable and oddly comforted by this.

The first strike of the belt across his backside made Shorkan jump, drawing his breath in sharply. The leather left a line of fire where it had landed and his hand itched to reach back and rub at the sore mark.

The second strike landed just below the first and Shorkan hissed. His fingers clenched on the ground beneath him as the belt continued to land in lines of fire all the down to his thighs. By the time Er'ril had completed one such circuit, Shorkan was gasping and wincing with each strike of the belt. He didn't think it could get any worse.

And then his brother's belt began to cover skin already sore and burning. By then, Shorkan was crying out with each hard strike. His entire world had shrunk to the burning pain each time the belt landed across his vulnerable backside. He couldn't gather his thoughts, even to remind himself of the fact that he deserved this. The belt burned away all of the years, until Shorkan once again felt like a wayward child being given a well-deserved punishment by his beloved older brother.

Tears began to well up in Shorkan's eyes and he didn't have the strength to fight them down anymore. When Er'ril shifted him forward and began applying the belt with sound precision to the sensitive creases between his bottom and thighs, the first sob escaped Shorkan in a harsh sound. As if that first sob was the catalyst for more, Shorkan found that, once he'd started crying, he couldn't stop. He cried for everyone who had been hurt by his actions. He cried for the land of Alasea, scorched by the wars that had taken place there. But most of all, he cried for himself... for how twisted he'd become and how ashamed he was of himself.

Only dimly aware of the fact that Er'ril had stopped the hard thrashing, Shorkan couldn't pull away when he found himself in his brother's arms. He just leaned his head against Er'ril's shoulder and bawled, feeling the terrible weight finally beginning to leave him.

After a few moments, Shorkan's tears began to die down to the point that he could hear the soft words Er'ril was saying. "...It wasn't your fault. My little brother would never willingly hurt anyone. I'll convince you of that every time you need me to – and if we need to do this again, I will do so gladly."

Even the thought of having to go through this again filled Shorkan with dread, but at the same time, he doubted that just one thrashing – no matter how severe – would ever be enough for everything. He nodded against his brother's shoulder and took a deep, almost shuddering breath.

At least his brother had finally forgiven him.

The End