Chapter 10: in which Conrart expresses his feelings with flying furniture.
Yozak sat lightly on the edge of Conrart's bed, having vacated his chair several hours ago. It had been three days and while Conrart's fever had broken, he had yet to stir from his drug induced stupor. For the most part Yozak hadn't moved, though Heralds Teren and Dirk had managed to get him to spend an hour with his Companion daily, strengthening the bond between them. He worried over his friend near constantly, never straying far from his side, even during his hour with Jissa; he flat out refused to go any further then a few feet outside of Conrart's window. He was well aware that his actions were likely fueling any number of rumors, however they'd weathered rumors on several occasions before, usually after one or the other was injured in the line of duty.
It had taken the combined efforts of Heralds Talia and Teren, in addition to Jissa to get him to leave his friend's side long enough for the deer like Dyheli, to give him the language of Valdemar. He had to admit it was worth the splitting headache to be able to understand the people around him without having to resort to Mindspeech, which was just a little too intimate to be used for the purposes of something as mundane as discovering what's for lunch, with anyone barring Conrart that is. Although, now that he thought about it, bespeaking Jissa was just as natural as bespeaking Conrart.
Conrart stirred in his sleep and Yozak felt a wave of contentment wash over him. He smiled as he gently brushed his friend's hair out of his face, wondering just what Conrart was dreaming about. This was the first time in days that he felt contentment rather than fear from his friend, and he was glad the night terrors that had plagued him since before the war had subsided at last! Those night terrors were the reason Conrart still curled up with him at night. His friend had once confessed that he felt safe with Yozak, and that his mere presence was usually enough to keep the 'monsters' at bay, but that if it wasn't he trusted him to keep him safe. He'd been both amused and alarmed at Conrart's choice of words, particularly since that had been last year.
Conrart shifted closer to him as he slept, cuddling up against his leg. He smiled slightly and gently ruffled his friend's hair. Conrart had regained some of his color this morning and Yozak was glad that the vomiting had passed. Conrart had spent the better part of his first day in the House of Healing, in the rescue position after his body objected to the drugs Gisela had given him. Only his need to be near his friend had stopped him from finding a way back to Shin Makoku and traumatizing Gisela for her stupidity! After the third time in under an hour that Conrart had vomited, Healer Dolan had been forced to brace Conrart's left arm and shoulder, and roll him onto his side to prevent his choking!
Yozak was mildly disgusted by the realization that these people were giving Conrart better care than he'd ever gotten. It had only been three days, yet Conrart's arm and shoulder were almost as good as new, thanks to the careful care of the Healers of Valdemar. According to Jissa, the healers were healing his friend in short bursts so that they didn't over tax their gifts or Conrart's body, since the energy required for a healing came from both the healer and the patient. In the past when Conrart was injured he'd only been healed enough that he'd live through the experience! After that they'd let his body do the rest, Gisela at least usually gave him medicines to deaden the pain. Other healers didn't even bother.
They were half-breeds, they didn't have feelings!
It was odd—they had a half-breed king, and Yuri had done much to improve the relationship between the Mazoku and the Human-tribe. Yet half-breeds were still considered second class citizens, or worse. But at least their lives were no longer as horrible as they'd once been. At least they were no longer in danger of being murdered in the streets for their tainted blood.
Not in Shin Makoku at least!
Jissa interrupted his musings, her mental voice completely aghast. : Your blood is not tainted! There is no such thing as tainted blood! So what if your mother was human and your father was a Mazoku? It means nothing Chosen; all that matters is the soul, the person within! :
: Thank you love, but you don't need to tell me that, and it's never stopped them from 'leashing mongrels'. : He sent her a memory from his childhood, three bodies hanging from a tree, the youngest a child of about six. : Just for the hell of it. Much as I hate to admit it, my world isn't perfect. We have prejudice and hatred, just like anywhere else. Yuri's a good kid, and he's doing his best to change things. Given time I'm sure he'll accomplish it. :
He turned his attention back to Conrart, just as a girl in Trainee green entered the room. He sighed, recognizing his relief. The girl's name was Tara, and she came everyday at this time to watch over Conrart while he spent an hour with Jissa. He rose to his feet with the graceful economy of motion he'd built over the past century. After straightening his gray uniform shirt, he climbed gracefully out of the window and went to join his Companion in the afternoon sunlight. He settled himself down on the grass, leaning casually up against Jissa, as the mare curled up around him like he was a foal. They talked about everything and nothing. They talked about his childhood, and the work camp he'd been in before he met Conrart.
He was in a half-daze, feeling safe and warm against Jissa's flank, when a moist rag came flying through the window and struck him square in the face, just as a wave of pure terror washed over him.
"Conrart!" he yelled, springing to his feet and leaping back through the window.
~~~***~~~
Conrart shifted, wandering closer to a glowing warmth. He'd been cold far too long. He'd almost forgotten what it felt like to be warm. He'd spent far too much time cloaked in the darkness and shrouded in terror. He stepped lightly into the gray abyss shedding cloak and shroud like a leaf sheds water. He followed the shining spark of light and warmth fluttering about before him. His steps echoed eerily in the dark void around him, as the light beckoned him away from his own personal hell. Away from the screams of terror and pain that had ruled his life since he got there. Idly he wondered where Yozak was, why his friend hadn't chased away the monsters of his past as he always did.
Something told him the red-head was nearby. He could feel him; he always knew where Yozak was and what he was doing. But from the moment he first became aware of Yozak's presence lurking just beyond the darkness, he couldn't reach him! He could feel the man's worry, but he couldn't reach him!
He'd tried, he really had, flinging himself at the hellish monsters of his past, trying vainly to escape their clutches without Yozak's aid. He wanted, NEEDED to find Yozak! He wanted to help him, to sooth away the worry, to make Yozak feel safe and contented like the other man always made him feel.
Yet his struggles were in vain, he couldn't escape the clinging darkness; every time he fought his way free, something pulled him back, back into the past, back to the pain and the terror!
Then the light had come.
He could still hear his own cries, his own agony, and his terror. But they couldn't touch him now. That speck of light and warmth had wrapped itself firmly around his very soul, calming him, comforting him, pouring into him like water into his parched soul, and gently disentangled him from the pain and the terror of his past. It blanketed him in love, and a soothing calming presence he knew he could trust with anything. It seemed so old and wise, yet young and free at the same time! Somehow he knew it would forgive him anything, fight beside him, and stand protectively over him against anything! It loved, cared, and wanted him to be safe and happy. It didn't care about tainted blood, or his lack of Maryoku, or that his odd gifts gave him a strange view of the world. It didn't think him crazy for the voices he couldn't control, and it … no… he knew how much the voices HURT, and wanted to help but first he beckoned him forward, needing him to walk into the light!
Conrart went, and went willingly, following in the light with an ease and a trust he hadn't felt for anyone barring Yozak for a very long time. The world around him opened up into a dreamscape he'd seen many times before. It was a dream he'd been having since the very first days of his gifts. He closed his eyes briefly and looked up at the small fluttering point of light. A light which he now realized was – of all things – a butterfly. He stepped into the light at the edge of his vision and leaned quietly up against the strong trunk of an old tree, cedar by the smell of it, and watched the vision unfold before him with a heavy heart.
He sat quietly on a log staring out into what looked like a meadow, if the waving field of green was any indication. At the very edge of his field of vision a wide river ran, and just beyond it roamed hundreds of white shapes. Horses, he realized mildly. He shifted quietly, watching a blurry apparition that ran across the field, chasing another apparition before the two converged on a butterfly and gave chase. He smiled lightly at their carefree behavior. The log shifted slightly and he turned his attention away from the frolicking phantoms. Yozak had joined him, clad all in white. Conrart felt content as he pulled a leaf off of the surface of his own white clothing. Shifting closer to his friend, he turned his gaze back to the field, when a slight movement caught his eye.
A leaf tumbled through the sky, to land in Yozak's bright hair. It looked for all the world like an ornamental hair pin. The leaf was accompanied by childish peals of laughter.
The vision brought him both happiness and sorrow, because it could never come to pass. He loved Yozak, but he would never be allowed to have a life with the man. Their ranks were too different… not that it mattered anymore. After the incident with his former boyfriend and his three lackeys, Yozak wouldn't even want him. Nobody would. Truthfully he didn't even know if Yozak was into men. He didn't even really know if he was into men!
He liked Yozak, had always liked Yozak. From the moment he was old enough to he'd liked Yozak, and felt safe in the other man's arms. He'd also liked the occasional girl, and other boys often made him curious. He'd had a few crushes in his time. Crushes that had mostly been on girls, and one or two on other boys; however his feelings for Yozak had endured. They'd endured everything, even the mechanisms of Lord Gwilherm and his three lackeys. It had endured past the point when he was unwilling to look at any man for anything other than distant friendship.
What he was seeing was nothing short of an unobtainable dream. For some reason, that hurt more than anything else.
The light fluttered in front of him, before taking the form of a man. Conrart blinked, and automatically reached for a sword he wasn't wearing. He looked down at his brown military uniform just in time to see it morph into a white cotton nightshirt that only just brushed his knees. He swore colorfully, his voice sounding so out of place amidst the high-pitched squeals of childish laughter, the calls of song birds, the trumpeting sounds of young horses, and the odd harmony of Yozak's laugh, mixing with his own. If not for the tree at his back, he'd have backed up several steps.
:Easy, Easy, Chosen. You trusted me as the light; will you not trust me now? :
Conrart cocked his head to the side, as the deep brass of the man's voice caressed his mind. He didn't care about the indignity of the pose; he was likely dead and in his own private hell anyway! He could see what he wanted and could never have. Yet in the distance he could still hear his own remembered cries of pain.
What the hell had Gisela given him, anyway? He was hearing horses talk, granted he'd been hearing that pigeon talk for years, however the thing was unusually loud, and animals were usually Yozak's forte. The horse, or rather the horse that kept insisting it wasn't a horse, had called him Chosen. It had to be the drug Gisela had forced him to drink, horses didn't have identity crises!
Did they?
He made a mental note to ask Yozak about it later.
: Oh my poor confused Chosen, I am not now nor have I ever been a mere horse. :
Conrart looked at the man; he was so confused. He used to wonder if the voices and the visions and randomly moving objects were heralding the coming of his own insanity. He'd foolishly allowed himself to believe that maybe it was all just a gift he had to learn to control when madness had failed to set in. He had thought he'd prepared himself for that eventuality, however now that he found himself staring at the strangely statuesque reality of his own insanity, he found he was terrified!
He closed his eyes and allowed himself to slide down the tree trunk until he sat upon the grass swathed ground. Looking up at the man before him he was mildly surprised by the beauty and the fire in his undeniably human eyes. He'd never seen eyes that color on a member of the human tribe before. The man's eyes and hair were the color of burnished silver. He was clad all in white, from his boots to his tunic; even the embroidery on his clothing was white, though it was embellished in places with silver thread.
The man was a walking stain waiting to happen!
:My name is Vanyel, Chosen.: the man said quietly as he lowered himself to the ground beside Conrart. :You are NOT going crazy. I really am here. Your gift is called Mindspeech. I know it seems like a curse right now, but it is a gift. Your godson, the king Yuri, had to learn to use his magic of his own accord. He had to learn to rule his gifts rather than let them rule him, am I right? :
"Yes, but-"
:You are a lot of things Chosen, but a coward is not one of them. Neither are you a madman. Answer this Chosen, what would happen to a young member of your race whose powers were allowed to grow to maturity without the benefit of training? :
"Mass havoc," Conrart replied calmly, before adding. "And the child in question could accidently kill himself if the gift was formidable enough."
Vanyel reached out and placed one eloquent hand on Conrart's slim shoulders. : In this case Chosen, you are the child in question. Your Heraldic gifts have been allowed to grow, with no one there to help you learn to rein them in. You have feared that the gift would drive you mad, and that is a legitimate fear, Chosen. However I am here to teach you what you need to know to keep that from happening. :
~~~***~~~
They talked for what seemed like hours, though he had no idea how much time had actually passed. Conrart had soon found that no subject was taboo with Vanyel. The Companion, his Companion, told him about the Heralds and their Companions, explained what they did, and what it meant to be a Herald. Vanyel explained how Yuri had given him leave to go.
Even with the knowledge that Yuri had given him leave to go, had cared for him enough to let him go, Conrart was still sorry he hadn't had the chance to say goodbye. In some ways he'd lost his family in one day, only to gain another in its place.
Somehow- and Conrart wasn't entirely sure how – he found himself cradled in Vanyel's arms. To his absolute astonishment he felt safe there. He leaned into the man's embrace, reveling in the feeling of Vanyel's hand carding through his hair, so similar to something Yozak would do, yet so very different as well. For one thing when Yozak did it, it sure as hell didn't feel brotherly or paternal!
Vanyel stood, carefully pulling Conrart to his feet as he did so. He took a step back and turned, reaching out with one hand to take a firm hold of the boy's chin.
: It's time to rejoin the living, my Chosen. I'll be close by. : Vanyel said quietly before he turned and walking off into the field, faded from Conrart's sight.
Abruptly he found himself back in his own body. His arm ached dully and he was cold. He whimpered and turned his head, trying vainly to open eyes that felt as if they'd been weighted with lead. Something soft and damp was working its way up the inside of his thigh in slow circles.
He was NAKED, and somebody was TOUCHING him!
Fear gave him strength he didn't know he possessed.
He opened his eyes.
A man loomed over him.
One of the man's hands lingered on his left shoulder.
The other was on his abdomen.
HE was definitely NOT Yozak!
There were three other people in the room with him, two of them were touching him, and none of them was Yozak!
He opened his mouth in a silent scream, and lashed out with that tightly wound force that lay coiled just below the surface of his being.
Vanyel had called it Fetching.
~~~***~~~
Yozak flung himself back into his friend's room, scrambling over the window ledge to land gracefully beside the bed. The room was a mess. Furniture was flying around the room, including bottles, medicines and anything not nailed to the floor. They flew in a wide arch around the bed and the huddled form of his best friend. A slight groan from the far corner of the room caught his attention, and he realized with an odd mixture of amusement and concern that Conrart had thrown Healer Dolan, Tara, and a male trainee he hadn't met yet clear across the room!
Judging by the rag that had hit him earlier and the flying bucket of water, he guessed that Dolan had attempted to do something he'd advised him not to! Conrart never had appreciated the subtle exercise in humiliation that was the sponge bath, and his reaction to it was usually quite spectacular. Although this particular episode was by far the worst out of the three he'd seen to date. He reached for Conrart with his mind, only to find his friend locked in a whirlwind of his own terror, much like the one currently raging through the small room they were occupying.
No matter how hard he tried he couldn't reach him – at least not mind to mind.
Cursing under his breath in his native tongue he fought his way to Conrart's side, only mildly surprised when a chair on a direct course for his face swerved to the side at the last possible second. He'd always known Conrart would never do anything to intentionally hurt him. This just proved it!
"Conrart," he called, trying to keep the pitch of his voice low and soothing. "Come on Conrart, it's alright, you're safe. No one's going to hurt you here."
Conrart whimpered, and while the speed of the objects circling the room decreased, they didn't stop.
"Der'rik, go get Herald Talia. We need to calm him down." Dolan barked from his place on the floor. Trainee Der'rik was much closer to the door then Healer Dolan, or his daughter Tara. He rose slowly to his knees and scrambled out the door.
Yozak dismissed the boy as irrelevant, and continued his trek towards his friend. It only took him a minute to reach Conrart and gather him into his arms. But it felt like an eternity. He held his friend, whispering soothing words, and stroking his hair. He pulled the thin sheet up to cover Conrart's slim hips. Slowly Conrart began to calm down, and the larger pieces of flying furniture began to fall to the floor.
Finally, the last of the objects fell from the sky, and Conrart sagged against his chest in an exhausted heap. His energy completely spent. Yozak continued to stroke his hair as Conrart relaxed against him. Dolan and Tara picked themselves up off the ground just as Talia came into the room, with Der'rik hard on her heels. The analytical part of his mind noted them, before dismissing them all as less than a threat, though he marked Talia's movements, as his instincts warned him of her potential to become one.
He cradled Conrart in his arms, well aware of the fact that his friend was trembling. In reaction to the colossal amount of energy he'd just burned through, not from fear. He carded a hand through the younger man's hair, whispering to him in the language of the Demon Tribe. Slowly the shaking stopped and Conrart's breathing evened out. Barring the incident three days ago aside, it had been a very long time since he'd seen his normally unshakable friend this panicked.
He glanced down at where Conrart currently had his nose buried in his gray clad chest, which was quite a feat considering the difference in their heights was just under four inches. He noted that the younger man's eyes were closed, and for a moment thought he may have fallen asleep again. However, the rhythm of his breathing was all wrong for that. He shifted his position slightly in the hopes of supporting Conrart a little more.
"Yozak?"