AN. All facts concerning companions and Valdemar are the general consensus of all of Mercedes Lackey's Heralds of Valdemar series, the part about the companion's age when Choosing comes from the second book Mercedes Lackey ever wrote entitled Arrows Flight. Also in Owl's flight Daran (who's all of 10 ) knows about heralds having the option of coming back as a future herald or as a Companion. Sorry for any confusion this may have caused. In addition Vanyel didn't bother changing his name because he didn't feel like it, and we figured that after spending the better part of 6 centuries with that name …. Well you get the point.

Anywho on with the story… R&R the kitty likes reading them and it gives the pirate something else to do… trust me you don't want the world to be ruled by her, OCD you know.

Pirate: That's CDO damn it! I swear I don't drink enough rum to deal with you were-creatures.

Chapter 11: Chosen

Talia watched quietly as Trainee Yozak took care of his panicked friend. Idly she wondered just what had set the boy off. She slipped quietly from the room and grabbed one of the long linen shirts the patients in the House of Healing normally wore. Trainee Conrart was obviously uncomfortable with being naked in public, and having something to wear would go a long way towards calming the boy down.

She slipped back into the room and brushed past Healer Dolan and his two Trainees. She set the long white Nightshirt on the edge of the bed and reached for Conrart's mind, attempting to sooth his volatile emotions with her Empathy. To her immense surprise, Conrart turned, glared at her out of sharp brown, silver flecked eyes, and snapped something sharply in his own tongue.

Yozak's ears turned red briefly before he turned and met her eyes. "The polite version of that would be 'Get the hell out of my head, before I throw you out!' I'd listen to him by the way; Conrart is rarely rude, and I haven't heard him swear in years."

Conrart carefully pulled the shirt over his head, and Talia felt his tension ease. She listened to the quiet tenor of his voice as he spoke to Yozak in his own tongue. She understood nothing of their language although occasionally she'd hear a word she understood. She'd defiantly heard Yozak say the word 'Valdemar' on several occasions, his slight accent coloring the word and showing mostly on the inflection. Twice she heard a word that sounded like Yuri or Yurri or Yuuri, she didn't know what the word meant, but she could guess by the inflection that it was a noun. Another word she caught and judged to be important by both the inflection and the force behind the word was 'Shin Makoku'.

Eventually Conrart said something she did understand; the inquiry was undeniable, even if 'Vanyel' was accented strangely.

It took the better part of a candle-mark to convince Healer Dolan to allow Conrart to go outside and spend a little bit of time with the Companion that would soon be his, but somehow she and Yozak managed it. She didn't know why but something about both of the new Trainees put her guard up. Yozak was charming and sweet in a blunt fashion, yet she'd just seen the young man lead Healer Dolan around by his nose until he thought what Yozak wanted was something of his own devising. In that regard, he put her in mind of Skif. As for Conrart, she could see several soul deep scars in the boy that had yet to heal, but there was a charity and compassion in those, odd, hard, brown eyes that spoke of the reason why he'd been Chosen. However, there was also a shrewd and cunning intelligence, which put her in mind of Alberich and Kero.

She watched as Yozak scooped his friend up into his arms, and reached for her bond to Rolan. As always the stallion wasn't far from her thoughts. He rose to the surface of her mind with a feeling of ancient wisdom and curiosity. She sent him an image of Yozak cradling Conrart in his arms as he walked calmly down the hall, followed by the image of young Companion Vanyel. Hard on the heels of that she sent him the image of the Dyheli stag, Talden, who represented his people at the council, and another image of Conrart, along with a feeling of confusion and inquiry. She also sent him an image of Elspeth.

She pulled herself back into the moment and continued down the hall, content in the knowledge that Rolan had understood her request, and that by the end of the hour at least, they would have bridged the rather large language gap between Conrart and the rest of the circle. Elspeth was undoubtedly the best person to give him the language, having been brought up around the most 'proper' version of it. She'd been the one called on to give Yozak the language as well, since at the very least it kept the two off-world trainees from having to go through speech lessons or anything else of the sort.

She didn't think they needed that, they had enough to deal with just adjusting to what had to be the most profound bit of culture shock anyone had ever gone through! In the short time since young Conrart had awakened she'd realized two things: one, however he knew Yozak, he trusted the man completely. And two, there was a somewhat distinctive difference in the nuances of their speech. It could have been something as simple as the differences in dialects, but there was just something about the way the man spoke, something about the quiet authority in his voice and demeanor, even when he was cowering against his friend … that spoke of the higher nobility.

~~~***~~~

Yozak set Conrart on his feet, in the cool grass outside the House of Healing. Conrart wobbled briefly, his knees almost buckling under his weight. He flinched slightly as his friend's nails dug into his bicep, as the smaller man steadied himself. Conrart clung to him for dear life, until he got his feet back under himself, then he straightened, the very image of princely pride, his chin held high. He stood still for a moment, before starting forward. He staggered slightly but held himself with all the dignity he could muster as he attempted to reach Vanyel. The stallion walked forward, and carefully stretched out his neck to Conrart.

Conrart stopped in his tracks, an arm's length from the Companion, and Yozak saw his friend stiffen, before his shoulders sagged in the closest thing to a slouch Conrart had ever allowed himself. To anyone else it would have looked like nothing more than an unfortunate display of bad posture, but to Yozak, it showed the depth of Conrart's weariness and concern, his exhaustion, and his uncertainty. He readied himself to go to Conrart's side, to offer what comfort and familiarity he could, when Conrart reached out tentatively with his right hand. Conrart hesitated, his hand frozen in the air as if it stopped moving of its own accord. Vanyel solved that problem though, by stretching out his neck again, until his nose touched the palm of Conrart's hand.

The change was instantaneous; all of Conrart's worry, and uncertainty vanished, and before Yozak even had a chance to fully grasp the change, Conrart flung himself forward in a very unprincely fashion, and buried his face in the stallion's mane, his arms around the Companion's proudly arched neck.

The shove of a velvety nose against his own shoulder drew his attention away from his friend to Jissa, who stood calmly at his side. He smiled, and gently rubbed her soft nose.

~~~***~~~

Conrart had been completely confused when he felt Vanyel. Vanyel to him was the man he'd met in his dream, and seeing that proud silver eyed man in the body of a proud blue eyed stallion was somewhat disconcerting! He sensed Vanyel's amusement at his thoughts as the Companion moved closer to him. He'd marveled not at the simple sentence Vanyel had spoken into his mind despite the fact that he knew he would never forget the words he'd spoken. Somehow : I Love You Conrart, I am Vanyel and I Choose you.: had been branded into his memory as boldly as if they'd used a hot iron. The love and the warmth that had accompanied that sending had wrapped around him like a fluffy blanket on a chilly night.

He'd reached for Vanyel without thinking, only to freeze the second he'd realized what he was doing. Experience had taught him, this was simply too good to be true. Things like this didn't happen, not to people like him. He was half human, and half demon, hated by both and trusted by neither, and nothing he could do would ever change that!

Stoffel had been the first to teach him that. It was a lesson Lord Gwilherm, and his friends, Lords Lodewijk, Bhaltair, and Boudewijn, had taken great pains to teach him, rather violently for that matter. A lesson the war, and Belar had reinforced; a lesson Wolfram, his precious baby brother, continued to teach him, and a lesson people continued to remind him of every time he foolishly gave them the chance!

Good things simply didn't happen to half-breeds.

For his kind, finding people who actually took the time to judge you for you, and not your mixed blood was a rarity … but then so was surviving into adulthood. As rare as it was to find an adult half-demon, it was even rarer not to find them doing the work no one else was willing to do, or worse in a brothel!

He and Yozak were the lucky ones. Surely THIS was too good to be true!

Vanyel simply pushed his muzzle into his palm. : I will never hurt you Chosen, blood and pedigree mean nothing to me. I will never leave you, and anyone who tries to hurt you again will have to do so around my flying hooves! :

He collapsed onto Vanyel's strong shoulder, hiding his face in his soft, silky mane. Princely pride be damned! He let himself go, gave everything up, and for the first time in a little more than half a century, he allowed somebody in, past the walls he'd built up around his heart and soul to protect himself. He felt Vanyel flowing down the path he'd opened for him, weaving his way into every nook and cranny of his very existence, picking up the shattered pieces of his nearly broken spirit before knitting them together with bits of his own soul until for the first time in years he felt some semblance of being whole and clean! That wasn't all he felt. The smothering press of minds against his own vanished as Vanyel brought his own shields around him.

For the first time in thirty years, he was completely alone in his mind. The relief was almost thick enough to plow.

For one long second he panicked at the loss of his connection to Yozak, only to have Vanyel calmly show him the thin thread of energy that was his connection to his best friend. He caught hold of that line of energy and tugged, successfully reestablishing a deeply rooted connection he felt utterly naked without. That connection had been a part of him since Yozak hit puberty almost seventy years ago. It had only grown and strengthened over the years.

Frankly, he didn't think he could function properly without it.

Rather abruptly he then realized something: You're little more than a colt! : he gasped.

Vanyel's mental voice was laced with a crisp feeling of amusement, which put him in mind of fresh air and ripe apples. : I have seen five winters in this form Chosen, were I a horse I would be a stallion. Normally we don't Choose before we have seen at least ten winters, but your pain and distress called me to you now. :

Conrart felt horrible. If what Vanyel said was true, then he had effectively stolen the colt's childhood. When he apologized for it however, Vanyel dismissed it, informing him in no uncertain terms that not a single Companion on the Field had ever truly been a child; they had all chosen to come back to this world with their knowledge of their past selves intact, in order to Choose the next generation of Heralds more effectively. He may have worn the form of a colt, but he was not one.

He still felt bad but he had to admit that the knowledge took a great deal of the sting out of his conscious. The fact that Van assured him he would have Chosen him anyway in five years time, put him at ease for some unknown reason and he patted Van's velvety shoulder.

His languor vanished as quickly as it had appeared as a woman astride a pure white Companion mare came into his field of view.

: Princess Elspeth and her Companion Gwena: Vanyel informed him lightly.

He shifted his stance, so that he stood beside Vanyel, his back straight, shoulders squared, and his chin raised just enough to display his stubbornness and pride, without appearing arrogant. Conrart was the picture of serenity, pride and authority and he was fully aware of it. He was a prince even if most people forgot that fact. He was used to people treating him with disregard and disrespect while fawning over one or the other of his brothers, for their ranks and titles alone.

It didn't matter; he was still a prince in his own right, and the former captain of King Yuri's guard, in addition to a noted war hero, and he would conduct himself accordingly. He did his level best to appear as calm and confidant as he always portrayed himself to be. A feat that was made more difficult by his wobbling knees, he wished he had something he could lean against without losing some of his dignity. To his surprise Vanyel paced forward slightly, coming to stand just a little bit ahead of him.

: You can lean on me, my proud Chosen, to a Herald the action would be seen as being as natural as breathing. :

He took Vanyel at his word and leaned into the Companion's shoulder; at the moment, just standing was taking far more energy than it should have. How long had he been unconscious for anyway?

Vanyel answered his unasked question, sending him a steady stream of energy as he did so. : It's been three days since we returned to Valdemar, Chosen, and you were out for three days before that, so that makes it a total of about six days. :

Conrart resisted the urge to curse at that little tidbit of information. He closed his eyes briefly, well aware of the fact that he was going to have to sit down soon, or he'd run the risk of falling down. Then behind Elspeth and Gwena, he noticed what had to have been the strangest looking stag he'd ever seen. Its head was too broad, its eyes slightly too large and too far forward, and its head was crowned with long curving horns. Its hide was also a distinctive creamy white and beige color.

Idly he wondered what the thing was and why it seemed to have no fear of people. Again, Vanyel answered his unvoiced question, telling him that the creature was actually the Dyheli stag Talden. He also informed him that they were a sentient species, with a powerful gift of mind-magic, and that this particular stag had come with the intentions of helping to bridge the language gap between him and everyone else on this world baring Yozak.

Apparently it was a procedure that Yozak had already undergone. According to Vanyel, Talden would take the knowledge of the language from Herald–mage Elspeth, and use it to build up the knowledge of the language in Conrart's mind so that by the time the stag had finished, he would be able to speak the language as if he had been born with it. The only side effect would be an unfortunate headache.

Vanyel also informed him that if he was willing, Talden would reverse the process and give Herald Elspeth and Herald Talia the same command of the demon tongue. He hated to admit it, even if it was only to himself, but the idea scared him. However he had done numerous things in his relatively short life, which had scared him to the point that he wanted nothing more than to hide in his mother's arms. Yet he'd done them all, with his chin held high and his back straight. He cowered before no man (the events of this morning not withstanding), and he sure as hell wasn't going to start now, even if this one bore the shape of a deer.

He took a deep breath to calm himself, and gave Vanyel his consent.

~~~***~~~

Conrart groaned, as he came back to himself, his head was killing him! Abruptly he realized he was on the floor, his head pillowed against something warm. Soft fur brushed his cheek, and the distinctive scent of horse permeated his nostrils, accompanied by an oddly sweet scent he didn't recognize. He resisted the urge to rub his temples. It took him a moment to realize what he was lying up against was in fact Vanyel. The Stallion was curled up around him like a mare around a foal.

"Hurt's don't it?" Yozak piped up from somewhere to his left, his voice far too perky for Conrart's liking.

Conrart moaned, if he had something in his hand he would have thrown it at his friend. "You are enjoying this far too much." He retorted into the plush pillow that was Vanyel's shoulder. Rather abruptly he realized that Yozak had spoken Valdemaran, not their native tongue, and that he had answered in the same.

He blinked in mild surprise, and wondered if this was how Yuri felt when he'd suddenly started speaking the language of the Demon tribe.

"Interesting, isn't it? It's like I was born here, and I have to tell you switching back and forth between Valdemaran and Mazoku-jin is actually very easy." Yozak stated.

Conrart buried his face in Vanyel's flank with a groan. He was well aware of the fact that he likely looked like a child, and honestly didn't give a damn! Yozak's deep chuckle penetrated the fog of his pain, and he felt his friend's hands come to rest on his head. The headache began to melt away as Yozak put his talented fingers to work, gently massaging his temples and his neck. He moaned, this time in pleasure. After a few minutes, Yozak pulled away, and patted his shoulder lightly.

"Can he stay out here with Vanyel, or do you want me to carry him back into the room he's been using?" Yozak asked quietly.

Conrart recognized the voice that answered as the healer who'd been in the room with him earlier, the one who'd scared the living daylights out of him when he'd first woken up. This was the same Healer he'd accidently thrown across the room.

: Dolan, Chosen, his name is Healer Dolan. You can trust anyone wearing the uniform of Herald or Healer.:

At Vanyel's reassurance he allowed himself to drift, finding that hazy spot somewhere between asleep and awake. He closed his eyes and snuggled into Vanyel's flank without a care in the world.

~~~***~~~