Ekleipsis (Fantasy Romance - LGBT, manXman)

7.2

Kintaro woke up in the middle of the night as if someone had shaken him awake. Alva was breathing evenly next to him. The houses here did not have beds, so they slept on the floor, on a wide mattress that fit all three of them. The other side of the mattress was empty now.

Kintaro knew that the elf hardly needed sleep. But usually he did not go off at night, but preferred to stay close to Alva doing, well, whatever the hell he did at night. Perhaps he dreamt, or just stayed there quietly, thinking. Or maybe he just mindlessly reveled in the sound of his lover's breathing, his warmth and smoothness of his skin.

Kintaro knew where he could find the elf. He rose and went out on the verandah. Ithildin was sitting on the balustrade, hands wrapped around his knees, leaning on the pillar and looked out at the night. The moonlight filtered through the strands of rain and cast a thin glow over his shape. Lost in thought, he seemed not to notice Kintaro.

The Essanti came closer. He was hardly the sensitive kind, but anyone would've realized that something was amiss. Unceremoniously, Kintaro turned the elf to face him.

"Stop pretending I am not here." He touched Ithildin's delicate cheek − it was wet.

The elf brushed him off and turned away again.

"Spit it out, doll-face. What's happened?"

Ithildin was silent. His fingers shook nervously. So Kintaro grabbed him by the shoulders, turned him again and would not let go.

"You are not going to lie that you are sitting here just to admire the damn view, right?"

If he still keeps his mouth shut, thought Kintaro, I will shake it out of him.

The elf's stubborn silence held something sinister. Normally Ithildin always had a jibe or two for the barbarian. At any rate, if he really did not feel like talking, he would have told Kintaro off in no uncertain terms.

"I had a vision. Tonight," said the elf finally and winced when Kintaro's fingers dug into his shoulders. "It wasn't about Alva," he added hastily in answer to the unspoken question.

"You said your visions never reflected your own destiny. Or something like that."

"It was you I saw," the elf's voice shook. "I saw you lying there dead, and a black beast was tearing at your guts."

"That's not a vision, that's a wet dream," jeered Kintaro and pulled the elf closer.

"Cretin." Ithildin tried to shake him off again. "You have saved me and Alva twice. Do you think I still want you dead?"

"So why all the tears?" Kintaro whispered into the elf's ear. "That the beastie wouldn't share with you?"

"Let me go. Let me go." Ithildin tried to break free, but not too hard, so the nomad did not let him go. "I don't get it... I shouldn't be seeing things like this! Not about you! And, besides... it was so vague, so fleeting! My gift must be fading..." He let his head drop on Kintaro's shoulder, and it was clear he was worn out by fear and doubt.

"All right, doll-face. Tell me what you saw."

"A riverbank. A jungle, a hundred leagues around. A full moon, and... A beast over you, a leopard, but all black. His muzzle red with blood, and from his fangs..." Ithildin shook and fell silent.

Kintaro was silent too. He did not like this at all.

The full moon was due in four days. By then, they would be traveling through the jungle to get to the Ujjay village, where they made really special blades. One of the master armourers Alva had been pestering mentioned this place. It had been difficult to get what was so special about the Ujjay weapons, because the armourer knew only about ten words in the Common Tongue. But he had still made it clear that nothing of the kind could be found in the whole of Jinnjarat. It was enough. The horses and the provisions for the trip were prepared almost instantly.

"We shouldn't go to that village. Something dreadful will happen, but I can't figure out exactly what. I just can't! Remember how the guides did not want to go? As if they were afraid. And the one who did agree asked ten times the price."

"Yeah. Must be real backwoods, that village."

"We shouldn't go there," the elf repeated stubbornly. "You should refuse. Alva wouldn't go without you."

"'Course he would. Don't be stupid."

"Make him stay. You can be very... persuasive when you choose."

"I won't hide, get it? We'll go through the damn jungle, and all the local beasts can take their chances. We'll see who gets whose guts, huh!"

The elf smiled despite himself and felt relieved. The barbarian's carefree arrogance was contagious. The Enqins were far more dangerous beasts than the local fauna, but the two of them had slain plenty.

"At least, let's delay the departure. Past the full moon."

"Deal." Kintaro lingered, playing with a strand of the elf's silver hair, thoughtful expression on his face. "One more thing..." Now he was staring out at the night like Ithildin before. "If the Enqins were to catch up with us again, I'd want you to... watch out for me. They would try to take the redhead alive. I'm afraid I might not let them."

Ithildin understood. "An easy death is a friend's last gift. Most bitter and most dear."

"The dead are dead. But you could still save the living. The redhead should live."

"For what? The suffering? The shame? The Enqins would kill him!"

"We didn't kill you."

"You think the Enqin chief would want..."

"Of course he'd want. No two ways about it. Alva is pretty, and Targhai is neither blind nor castrated. It's been what, a year. Back then, yeah, it would have been the torture and a slow death, but not now. The other sons have grown up, the thirst for blood had abated... He'll take Alva in his tent, get it?" Kintaro smashed his fist against the railing. "Just the thought of it makes my insides burn."

"You'd rather Alva died than was taken by Targhai?"

"That's what you'd have to watch out for. That I don't."

Ithildin sighed and squeezed Kintaro's hand. "Sometimes I do not get you at all."

"Sometimes I do not get myself. Just don't say anything to Alva."

The elf shushed him, and Kintaro fell silent, but it was too late.

"And what is it that he shouldn't be telling me?"

Alva stood in the doorframe, arms folded. He looked sullen, and Ithildin and Kintaro's identical guilty stares failed to amuse him. Chevalier Ahayrre pursed his lips, paused, and spoke in the most hoity-toity way that never failed to irk Kintaro.

"I've had it with the two of you constantly scheming behind my back. It's as if I were a child you have to take care of. What, Kintaro, you really fancy yourself my bodyguard? Think I do not see you trailing me and never letting me out of your sight?"

"We are concerned about your safety," said Ithildin gently.

Alva smirked. "May I remind you, my most faithful protectors, that I got into this whole mess not because I am inept with a blade, but, rather, the contrary. And when it gets rough, I'll be fighting alongside you, all for one and one for all, get it? I do not need shielding from harm. And I do not expect you to cut deals behind my back about who is going to die for me and who is going to slit my throat to make sure I am not taken alive."

"Listen, my sweet, this is war, and normal rules do not apply," Kintaro chimed in.

"I have no plans to kick the bucket," Alva's tone was final. "Even if I have to spend the rest of my life as a toy for the whole Enqin tribe, and for Targhai too. Far more pleasant than the hero's death for each of us three."

Kintaro looked at Alva's haughty face and felt nothing of the habitual irritation, only an overpowering passionate tenderness.

"Miss some Wild Steppe loving lately?" He grabbed Alva, not giving him a chance to utter a pipsqueak, and threw him over his shoulder. "Join in, doll-face. Let's show him what real sex is all about."

...Of course, the next morning they did not go anywhere.