Falling Star

by Kracken

Warning:Extreme male/male rape scenes, violence, language, graphic descriptions. Not for the faint of heart.

Falling Star is an original, copyrighted, novel by Kracken. Any copying and distribution of this work for, or with the intent to, sell for profit will result in prosecution. 2002

(Latest additions to the story will be shown in bold) _____________________________________________________________________________________

Falling Star

By Della Ann Boynton

Chapter One

We were holed up in the hills, waiting for the Wolf to return with the most vicious elements of our pack. We had the one wagon of supplies, the few horses left behind, a few of the wounded, and several 'greens' who hadn't managed to slit a throat yet to prove their loyalty. I belonged in the last group, yet I didn't mingle with them and talk about the hope of getting a chance, perhaps in the next plundering party, to make my kill. I knew already, and kept it a secret, that I was never going to be able to do it.

Perhaps you think that I should have fled into the forest? It was deep enough to hide a thousand men among evergreens and craggy, broken hills, but I was wiser than you. Faygen the Wolf had eyes everywhere and his trackers were the best. Add to that the fact that I had a price on my head already for lesser crimes, and you see quickly enough why I was bound to such a thieving, murderous band to begin with. I've never been a good man. I've always had my hand in the till, my eye on another man's hard earned goods, and my thoughts on always finding the easy way to get through life. I belonged there with those men, yet I often wondered why it was so hard for me to accept it and to take the next step.

It had been a plan of mine to make myself useful, trying to avoid being, literally, a dead weight. Faygen didn't tolerate two things, anyone who disobeyed him and someone who didn't fit in. Both were liabilities that a small force, such as ours, couldn't afford. Keeping men like that was asking for betrayal or, worse, risking being slowled down when our lives depended on being both mobile and secretive. Our trail was littered with the corpses of those who didn't meet Faygen's standards and I didn't intend to be one of them. I cooked, cleaned and repaired tack. I groomed beasts and doctored, both men and beasts alike, with a skill that I had learned on the farm where I had been born. I sought to make myself known, liked, and indispensable. Unfortunately, I soon learned that the men either didn't care about my efforts, or took them for granted, knowing that I did them out of fear. Friendship wasn't to be given lightly either. They reserved it for those who had proven themselves as comrades, and who were skilled at arms enough not to die easily.

So, having failed miserably, I found myself waiting fearfully for Faygen's return, knowing that, maybe not that day, but perhaps soon, he was going to notice that I hung back, or went so far as to hide when he chose his wolves. Death, I knew, was going to be hard on the heels of that notice.

They came at dawn, horses sweated and blowing steam in the chill air. Harness and armor had been wrapped to stay silent, but nothing could silence the groans of the wounded or the thunder of hooves. They dismounted all around me, smelling like blood and death. Faces drawn and worn, as they threw reins at the 'greens', they collapsed by their comrades to either be cared for or given a stiff drink.

It was a dangerous time. Adrenalin was pumping, blood lust glazing all of their eyes. I kept back, knowing better than to get in the way or make myself an obvious target for someone's irritation. I helped the other greens care for the horses, unsaddling them, treating their wounds, and rubbing them down. Looking around and under the beasts, I kept a wary eye on the milling killers.

I didn't see Faygen immediately. A band without a leader was chaos, a feeding frenzy of the strong slaughtering each other to gain the highest position in the band. I almost decided to make a run for it, beginning to fear that Faygen had met his end at last, when the man came galloping up with several of his closely trusted comrades in tow. One of those comrades had a bloody burden.

I felt a chill. It wasn't unusual for Faygen to bring back victims from a raid and use them to test the greens. I had been spared the trial so far, but the screaming, pleading victims would haunt my nightmares for the rest of my life.

Dismounting, Faygen pulled off bloody gloves and wiped sweat from his brow, waiting for his comrades to dismount as well and bring him the burden. When it was placed at his feet, it stirred and sat up weakly. It was then that I saw that it was a young man that Faygen had brought to the camp.

Dark haired and with a well trimmed beard, Faygen was an average sized man, yet he had a lifted, arrogant chin and a pair of hot, piercing black eyes that gave him the appearance of being much larger. In dark leathers, topped with red armor, he didn't swagger or look vicious. Instead, he had a calm, icy bearing that was much more frightening. He was looking down at the boy, now, and I was surprised to see grudging respect in his expression.

The young man was panting with pain. I wondered if any of the blood and guts on his clothes was his own, but, I thought, with that much splattered everywhere, he would have been dead long since. He had pitch black hair matted with mud. His skin was very pale and his chin was beardless. It was his eyes that caught my attention. They were a clear blue, a color not usually found with such dark hair, and often said to be an indication of witch powers. They made me shiver, not so much from superstition, as from the pure hate reflected in them.

I had a thief's skills in observation. Peasants didn't wear armor and they certainly didn't display such fiery defiance in the face of the wolf at their throat. I surmised, then, that the boy was some Lord's by blow, indulged enough to get a suit of armor, but not one as fine as a son born on the right side of the sheets. I hoped, for his sake, that the boy was legitimate enough to warrant a ransom.

"You killed three of my men," Faygen said in a voice that was deep and dangerous. "As you can imagine, I am tempted to kill you here and now as recompense."

The boy continued to glare, undaunted.

Faygen continued, frowning now, and I knew that didn't bode well for the boy. "You defended your lord's village long after the other guards had fled. That is deserving of some acknowledgement and some leniency perhaps. If you tell me your name, and your father's name, I may choose to ransom you instead of slit your throat."

I would have jumped at the chance and blubbered my thanks for Faygen's charity, but the boy remained silent. If anything, his glare grew even angrier and more defiant. No, I thought, don't be stupid! He's giving you a chance few ever get!

As I said before, there were two things that Faygen never tolerated, one of them was disobedience; defiance of his will. The boy was defying him in front of his men. Killing him cleanly, had suddenly ceased to be an option. In my short time with the pack, I had learned enough about politics to know that Faygen couldn't allow himself to look weak or bested by anyone. There were too many men waiting for that show of weakness to start a faction and pull him from his position.

"Hold him," Faygen suddenly ordered.

As I saw men kneel on either side of the boy and the boy begin a wild, ineffectual struggle, I turned away, wishing that I could block my hearing as well as my sight behind the flank of the horse I was tending.

Men laughed. Some spat in disgust or muttered where Faygen couldn't hear them, but I could. When I heard the boy shriek and then begin a rhythmic pattern of anguished, agonized cries, I knew what was happening. I didn't need the telltale slap of flesh against flesh, and the appreciative sounds of a man having his pleasure, to know what was going on.

"Naahhhh!" It was a guttural growl from Faygen. He was really enjoying himself, I thought, sick to my stomach, and then, "Yahhh, but he was good!"

Men laughed again, as if at a good joke, and then a hand was landing on my shoulder hard. I flinched and turned to see one of the killers, a thick skulled brute, with one eyebrow across his forehead, glaring at me.

"S-Sir?" I stammered.

The man spat aside and then growled,"Faygen wants you to clean up the brat. He's keeping him, for now."

I'd never seen Faygen having sex with any victim, but I had heard gruesome rumors that he usually left them dead after the act. I felt pity for the boy as I carefully made my way to the scene of the rape, but I spared some of that pity for myself when I saw what Faygen had left behind for me to clean up.

The boy was still tied with his hands behind his back, but his clothes, armor, and boots had been taken off and scattered all around him. I was right when I had thought that he was a poor relation of some lord. The armor was old and mended many times. His clothes were leather and finer than mine, but there was a patch in a sock lying limply by his head and obvious smooth spots in the leather attested to long wear.

I swallowed hard, turned, and went to one of the many fires being lit. Hidden behind hide blinds to keep our position from being broadcast to our surroundings, kettles were already boiling water to clean the blood and gore from the men. I dipped some out into a pan. It was barely warm, but better than the freezing water of the stream near by. Snatching up a rag, I made my way back to the boy.

It was hard to decide where to start. He was covered in bruises and cuts, some of them deep and seeping some blood. His lower body, though, seemed to be worse than those, so I kneeled and dipped my rag into the warm water, deciding to start there.

Very gently, I brought the rag between the young man's legs. He didn't respond. He wasn't faking unconsciousness. He was dilated, bleeding, and raw. My rag was surely causing pain. His face remained relaxed, though, and very pale, the lips almost blue. He looked very young, and it was hard to remain dispassionate. I kept thinking, 'He's some woman's son, some father's by blow, but obviously loved.' Someone was mourning his loss, I was sure, maybe not even realizing that he was still alive.

There was a gush of blood. I swore under my breath and instinctively pushed the rag against him hard, as if I could stop it that way. The wound was inside and I regained my senses in the next moment and realized that. Leaving him reluctantly, wondering what Faygen would do to me if he died in my care, I snatched some balm from one of the other greens, one used for treating wounds on the animals, and returned quickly to the young man.

Kneeling again, I took a dollop of the balm on my finger and then, with a disgusted groan, I pushed that finger into the boy. Coating his insides liberally, I withdrew my finger and then began cleaning him again. The balm stopped bleeding and numbed pain somewhat. It was a strong herb mixture, and rarely used on people, but I felt that I didn't have much choice. Our doctor had died of the wasting fever some weeks ago and all of his things had been thrown out along with his corpse, since none of the men had been knowledgeable in healing.

Shit, blood, and mud, slowly washed away and the bleeding didn't start again. Dressing him awkwardly at last, I pulled him away from the filthy ground and found him a cleaner spot on the perimeter of one of the fires. I didn't dare get too close. There was a definite pecking order and I didn't want any of the cruel looking men huddled by the flames to take offense at a prisoner sharing warmth with them.

I had two blanket scraps, both of them made out of rough horsehair and smelling of me and wood smoke. I threw one over the boy and wrapped myself up in the other. I huddled and waited for someone to take the prisoner off of my hands, hoping that when they did, I would get my precious blanket back.

Cleaned up, rested, and swigging a leather cup of strong drink, Faygen came back to his prisoner at last. He had a satisfied expression on his face and he walked like a man who owned and controlled everything as far as he could see. At that moment, he did, until some Lord and his army dared to come and convince him otherwise by putting his head on a pike.

"Alive?" Faygen asked abruptly. I nodded, thinking the least said the better. Faygen studied the prisoner. "He's a brave one," he conceded. "He stayed, hacking my men down, while those cowards he led ran from the battle. I have a feeling that he won't break easily."

Break. It was a word men used when they trained an animal. It made me tense, wondering what was going to happen to the young man and why Faygen wanted to bother doing anything with him at all.

"Name?" Faygen asked, giving me a keen, appraising look. "You're a 'green', right?"

"Yes, sir," I replied nervously. "Lore. I'm called Lore, sir."

"Thief," Faygen remembered. When I nodded, he chuckled. It wasn't a pleasant sound, but dark and ominous. "You're not a killer, Lore."

So, he knew. He could see it, somehow, on my face, in my eyes, in my shrinking bearing. I could have denied it, even promised to make a kill in the next raid, but his eyes dared me and I knew better. "No, sir," I admitted and my insides went cold. Death put a hand on my shoulder.

Faygen smiled. "Maybe you're not a killer," he said, "but you do have guts, Lore. I'll let you live, for now, but you'll have a new position in my pack. You live as long as that position requires you. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir." I couldn't help trembling in relief, even as I waited with bated breath to hear what task I was going to be given.

Faygen crouched by the boy and reached down, smoothing tangled locks from the boy's brow almost tenderly. When Faygen looked back at me, he said, "No man defies me. This boy is going to give me everything that I ask for, do everything that I demand, and say what I wish him to say. I will break him to my will." He grinned and the man's eyes glittered in anticipation. "It's been some time since I found someone who pleases me, who is strong and good to fuck. This boy fulfills my desires. Since he looks to be too poor to ransom, and killing him would be a waste of enjoyable flesh, I am making him my whore."

I had anticipated that. I wasn't very surprised, but I wasn't sure what it had to do with me. I waited quietly to hear my fate. Faygen straightened and motioned to the boy. "You will care for him at all times. If he dies, you die. It's as simple as that."

I swallowed hard. I was a thief and a homeless man, and I don't remember ever owning innocence, but I still had some remnants of pride. It went hard to be told that I had fallen so low that I was now to be the servant of a whore. Argument, of course, was out of the question. "D-Does he have a name, sir?"

"He refuses to speak," Faygen replied and looked angry, a promise in his eyes to get that information eventually even if it required unpleasant methods. He smiled suddenly, a shift of emotions that signaled an unsteady mind as he added, "If I'm to break him, then I should name him, don't you think? I am his master now."

"Yes, sir," I whispered uncertainly.

Faygen considered for a long moment and then he snorted in laughter. "Ano. Call him Ano."

It was 'Trade speech', I realized. Faygen wanted the boy, when he awoke, not to have any doubt what he was being called. Ano meant 'hole'. Faygen had named the boy Hole. I felt sick, but I kept it off of my face. I just nodded. Faygen seemed disappointed that I wasn't sharing what he thought was a fine joke. I couldn't laugh, though I should have. I was too afraid and too disgusted.

Faygen eyed me, a hand going to his knife at his belt, maybe reconsidering, but then he looked at the boy. He shrugged, remembering the necessity of keeping me alive to care for him, and then walked away, swigging his drink out of his leather cup.

Food was prepared, a simple hot soup, made from dried chunks of deer meat and some questionable vegetables, and hard flat bread made so long ago I refrained from thinking about it. It hadn't been food they had been plundering and I found myself grousing about that fact with a resiliency that was born of a lifetime of shouldering and shrugging off tragedy and hardship.

In a life like mine, keeping myself alive was always my top priority. Getting enough to eat was a big part of that. Around the kettles of food, the men were so like a real wolf pack that it made me fear for my throat as I approached. The men growled, shoved, and threatened while the weak made way for the strong. I wasn't strong, but I was clever. I found myself using my new position to advantage, consideration of whether I liked it or not, drowned out in the need to fill my growling belly.

"Food for the Wolf's prisoner," I said clearly and men glared at me, thinking about what that meant and the consequences of standing in my way. Fear of Faygen won me two bowls of soup with several pieces of flat bread. I felt a rush of power that was at all odds with the situation. The powerless take what they can get.

Returning to the prisoner, my good mood evaporated as reality reasserted itself. He was awake, blinking and coming to terms with his situation. I didn't even want to imagine what he was thinking and I found myself looking away as I sat close by him on the ground. One glance had been enough for me. His bruised eyes, trembling mouth, and devastated expression was enough to haunt a man.

"If you are wise," I said carefully as I reached out and put his food near him, "you will do everything that Faygen orders, no matter what that is. Humiliation is better than death and Faygen has been known to make dying a long, painful ordeal for men who defy him. Eat. I'll fetch you water in your bowl once you are done." I paused and then decided that further humiliation wasn't something that I could save him from. "I can't untie your hands. You'll have to eat without them." like a dog, I thought, and felt ashamed, but he was a soldier, even though he was so young, and dangerous. I wasn't going to put myself in his reach until he understood completely that I was there to take care of him, not guard him and keep him a prisoner.

Silence. I suppose I hadn't expected anything else. He had already shown a willingness to defy Faygen on that point. He did eat. I heard the bowl scrape the hard ground. After a short time, it clattered next to me, completely empty. He must have kicked it over to me. After finishing my own meal I went to the rain barrels attached to the wagon and drew us some water.

Returning, I lost my conviction and looked at him. He was huddled on his side, eyes slitted and breath coming in small gasps punctuated by a repeated cry that I could barely hear. It was obvious, as he became aware of my approach, that he didn't want anyone to know that he was hurting. He bit his lip and went silent.

"I know your ass is ripped," I said, thinking that I could at least save him the trouble of pretense. "I know you've been through a battle and had Faygen beat you. Any man would be in pain."

His face twitched as if I had hit him. He ducked his head and his black hair became a curtain over his pale face and his thoughts. I put his water in reach and then drank my own. Finished, I wrapped my blanket around myself and stretched out on the ground. The men were laughing, cursing, and drinking still, but I was used to it and I was able to shut it out as I settled myself to sleep. The young man wasn't so lucky. He kept flinching at every loud sound and whenever any of the pack stood up and came close as they headed for some other destination. He was afraid of being raped again.

"They won't touch you," I reassured him, but it sounded like a lie even to me. "Faygen has claimed you. They know he'll kill them if they try and use you. You don't have to worry about Faygen either. After a raid, he drinks himself to sleep with the men." He didn't look at me. I said impatiently, "You can try and kill them tomorrow after you've regained some of your strength. Rest."

He did look at me then, startled, as if he thought that I was mad. In the next moment though, he was groaning in misery and turning away from me as he allowed himself to fall flat, presumably to sleep.

I tried one last time, hoping, maybe, to make my new task easier. "Do as he says," I told him, "He may allow you to live after he grows tired of you. He thought that you were brave. He respects that in a man." The boy's back stiffened and I felt a clear, 'Go to hell.', in the air between us. Sighing, I left him alone then and went to my own sleep.

In the morning, Ano was up before I was. He was still on his side and still in pain it seemed to me. As I sat up and stretched, he glared and then went back to watching the other men with a tightness around his clear, blue eyes. I decided that he wasn't going to engage in any morning banter, but we had an obvious and uncomfortable problem on our hands, so I couldn't do what I wished and leave him to his brooding.

I stood, grimacing. "I know you have to piss," I said with a growl, "so, unless you want to do it in your pants, you'll have to let me help you." I added, not really needing to, but feeling that I should be thorough in case the young man was an idiot, "Don't try to kill me or take me hostage. It won't make any difference. Not only wouldn't they care if you killed me, they would probably sit back and enjoy the show."

Our eyes met, his narrowed as if he was seeing me clearly for the first time. I was a farmer's son, shaggy, shoulder length hair the color of the earth and skin swarthy from a smattering of border man blood. I was broad shouldered and flat faced, eyes as brown as my hair and nose flaring and crooked from a long ago fight. I wasn't much older than the boy, but I felt ancient in experience, so it was hard to think of myself of an age with him.

"I'm as much a prisoner as you are," I told him. "I can't escape either."

The blue eyes lowered and he went very pale. I was honored with one, small, nod.

Guards watched our progress as I pulled Ano to his feet. He hissed and moaned despite himself, shivering as he took one slow step after another towards the bushes. The guards put hands to their sword hilts and I could see that they were hoping that Ano would make a run for it. Their blood lust hadn't died in a night's sleep.

I pulled down Ano's pants, wincing when I saw that there was blood stains on the leather and hand shaped bruises on his backside. After that sight, I turned away and gave him what privacy I could, pretending that nothing was happening, especially that my charge was pissing. The act did make me consider another, less pleasant bodily function and I began to wonder, with trepidation, how the boy with manage it with his inner wounds. It changed what I had intended to feed him for breakfast.

The sound of pissing stopped. I helped Ano dress again, feeling creeping embarrassment and shame when I had to tuck him into his pants before buttoning the front closed. He flinched at my cold touch and shrank into himself.

"Let's get another thing straight this morning," I growled as I wiped my hand on my pants. "I don't go for raping boys. You don't make me have a pole in the least bit, got that?" I didn't think it would have helped make my job easier to admit that men did give me a pole. I needed some kind of trust from him or he would fight me. I knew my life would end on the end of Faygen's sword if I looked as if I was too incompetent to even care for the man's whore.

The boy frowned darkly and hid his expression behind his tangled hair. It seemed reluctant submission, so I took his arm and pulled him back to his blanket. His blanket. Already I was acknowledging that he was going to need one and that my job wasn't going to end any time soon. I think I had half hoped that Faygen would change his mind, but morning sunlight put to flight any such fantasy. The boy WAS handsome and, as Faygen had attested, a good fuck. The combination wasn't something a man tossed aside without good reason and I knew that the boy's reluctance and rebellion only added sauce to the mix.

I didn't say anything foolish like, 'stay where you are.' The boy knew the uselessness of running. I didn't tell him where I was going. Why should he care? I simply left him where he sat and tried my luck at edging through the men around the kettles of grease and porridge, trying to be wary of anyone with a hangover from the night before.

I used the same tactic I had employed at dinner and it felt good to be able to bully killers and to make fear instead of blood lust spark in their eyes. I won two bowls of porridge for my daring and a few more hunks of flat bread. I poured water into the boy's bowl liberally before I returned to him, reasoning that slops would keep from tearing his healing insides when he was forced to empty himself. Congratulating myself on my cleverness, I almost dropped both bowls when I returned to the boy and found Faygen on top of him and raping him again. That's it, I thought, the boy was as good as dead now and soon, I knew, so would I.

I didn't want to watch. I was surprised that the boy wasn't screaming, until I heard muffled cries and knew that Faygen had stopped his mouth somehow. I turned away and crouched, putting the boy's bowl down and slowly eating my own food with the callousness of a stomach that only cared about survival. When I had finished and turned back around, Faygen was already standing, clothes back in order and a wide smile on his face.

Faygen hadn't asked anyone to hold the boy this time. I wondered at that. Surely the boy had fought back? When I looked past Faygen, I saw that my blanket was over the boy's head and that his body was in an odd position. He wasn't moving except for the rapid rise and fall of his chest. He was alive, but I didn't dare get my hopes up.

"You'll learn, Ano," Faygen told the boy, "that there are worse things that I can do to you besides rape you. I'll teach you to obey me and to spread your legs willingly."

Faygen looked around. I stepped forward. He saw my anxious face. Faygen knew how to rule men. The Pack feared him, but he knew how to earn their loyalty too. "You tended him well," he told me. "He wasn't bled white and he was ready for me to go into him again. You did as well as any healer."

"Sir," I replied, acknowledging the compliment and wondering at the flush of gratitude I felt for receiving it. Faygen was a killer who lead a pack of killers. He was repeatedly raping a captive. I wondered if I had been beaten down so low by my circumstances that I was now willing to accept a bandit's praise and dare to feel pride.

"Clean him up," Faygen grunted unnecessarily and sauntered away with a satisfied air.

I still didn't want to look. I found myself getting out the salve and fetching water and fresh rags before approaching the boy, making each task last as long as I could. Finally, I knew that I couldn't put off looking at Faygen's handiwork any longer. I turned to the boy.

A rope ran behind the boy's neck, each end tied to the boy's knees, drawing them up tightly and exposing his naked lower body obscenely. The ropes were very tight, the skin around them reddish purple. The boy had struggled.

"It's me," I said after swallowing the porridge that tried to force itself back up my throat. I realized that the boy didn't even know my name. "Lore. It's me, Lore. I-I'm going to clean you up. It's- it's over. He's gone."

I put a hand to the blanket and then drew it off. Ano was glaring at me, but the glare kept faltering into an expression of pain and anguish, brows drawn down hard over his clear blue eyes and a line etched deep between them. Tears were wet on his cheeks and those cheeks were a sickly red. He hadn't been able to breathe very well under that blanket and I was sure, from the blood along his lower lip, that Faygen had pushed down on it to stop his cries.

I wasn't a fool. I cleaned up his lower body and treated his ass with the salve before I pulled the horseman's knot that released him all at once from the rope. His limbs fell limply and I knew that the circulation was returning to them painfully by the way Ano involuntarily gasped and made his lip bleed more by biting into it. I pulled his pants, socks, and boots back on him before he regained full motion.

I retrieved Ano's porridge and placed it near him, but he ignored it, curling up with a groan and closing his eyes tightly. He was shivering and his jaw was clenched tight. The porridge went cold and the fat in it congealed on top of the water. I stared at it and then at Ano. He had a lot of pride and it was hurting. I knew that, in his place, death wouldn't have been a preferable option to me, but I knew that even by blow nobles considered their honor before their life.

I licked nervous lips and said, wanting the boy to live so that I could live, "If you don't eat, I'll tell Faygen. I've seen him do horrible things to men. He's right that rape is a little thing compared to what he could do to you. If he finds out... if I tell him.... I-I think you can imagine what he might do."

Those blue eyes snapped open and I felt that, if the boy had been armed, I would have been a cold corpse on the ground. I could tell that my words weren't having any effect. In his youthful arrogance and naivete, the boy couldn't imagine anything worse than rape or dying. Still, something moved behind his eyes and I knew, as he leaned over and began eating his breakfast like an animal, grimacing at the taste, that something besides fear was motivating him to do it. I knew what it was too. It was the thirst for revenge. A dead man couldn't hope to escape and kill his enemies, so he forced himself to eat, to endure, and to heal. It was easy to see how he had won Faygen's respect.

"Pack it up!" Men started shouting, the call going around the camp. I had been waiting for it. We never stayed too long in one place for fear of discovery, but there were wounded, including Ano, who would be expected to walk and I knew what happened to whomever couldn't keep pace.

I felt uneasy not jumping to the task of securing gear and harnessing animals. My new task was to watch after one person and I pulled myself away from watching the scene of suddenly milling men and animals around me to see to it.

Ano was wiping his mouth against his shoulder and sitting up, concern on his face. He knew that moving meant that if anyone was searching for him or Faygen, the task was about to become much more difficult for them. His chances of rescue were about to be dimmed.

I rolled our blankets and gathered up my pack with my few belongings. I added the salve and some rags to the pack and then shouldered the lot. Stepping to Ano's side, I reached down a calloused hand and tried to look as stern as I could as I said, "You'll get up now, and walk the best you can. If you're smart, you'll let me help you."

Scouts were already galloping ahead and behind. The thunder of hooves and the snort and jangle of animals and harness was all around us. Men grumbled, sorted themselves out, and then began to walk in a tight group with hands on their weapons. I heard cries from men as they were slaughtered where they lay, too wounded to rise. I shook my hand at Ano, demanding a response, my face probably reflecting my growing trepidation.

"Ano!" I snarled at last, clenched a hand into the leather of his shirt, and pulled him up sharply until he was standing on uncertain feet, breath hissing in pain. He glared at me, furious at the name I was calling him. "If you want another name, then tell me what it is!" I snapped. When he remained stubbornly silent, I swore at him and ordered, "Walk! or you'll end up like those poor bastards that are screaming for mercy. Hear them? Faygen won't give them any, boy, and he won't give it to you either no matter how good of a fuck you are!"

I thought that the boy would die of shame and pure hate then and there. He trembled and went sickly pale, eyes blue flames. The cries of the dying were drawing closer.

"Boy!" I said, softer, begging for reason, begging for my own life, knowing the struggle he was having with pride, fear, and hate, but mostly with the desire to forget about revenge and to let Faygen kill him to end his suffering. I groped for an argument that would get his feet moving and then found it in the boy's sense of honor. "Are you a coward?" I wondered sharply. "Will you let Faygen cut your throat? Will you tip your chin back and offer it to him? Do you think your father will find your corpse? I wonder how much he will honor a son who LET his enemy kill him!"

I saw tears. The boy ducked his head and hid them behind his wild tangle of dark hair, his mouth going into a hard line. All at once, he began walking. He groaned involuntarily and limped. I caught up, relieved, and supported him with a helping hand.

"Pace yourself," I told him. "He won't call a halt until he finds us a safe den to lie low in."

The boy kept his eyes on his feet after that and it was left up to me to guide us among the men and to keep us clear of the spiny bushes and tangled tree roots of the forest. At one point, Faygen rode by, saw our progress, grinned, and gave me a nod of 'job well done'. I didn't feel the same pride that I had felt the first time he had praised me. Instead, I felt bitterness, hating myself suddenly for the tactics I had used to manipulate Ano into walking and wanting to live. I suppose I had always considered myself 'better' than the cut throats around me. It was an odd conceit, but one I had held, I suppose, because I hadn't killed and raped as they had. Just then, that sense of being 'better', had evaporated.

By the end of the march, Ano was failing. I was almost carrying him, his weight slight, but not inconsiderable enough to be a burden. When Faygen stopped and simply swung off his horse to signal that camp was to be made, I wasn't the only one to groan in relief and sink to the ground in exhaustion. Ano fell flat on his back and only the rise and fall of his chest as he panted indication that his pale face wasn't caused by his death.

The wagon wasn't unpacked. That meant that we weren't staying for more than one night. Looking down at Ano's prostrate form, I hoped that his injuries weren't so severe that they couldn't heal themselves or that walking would cause them to re-open. Exhaustion I could deal with and cure, but bleeding to death... I pushed it from my mind. It wouldn't help the situation to dwell on the next day. The here and now was my priority and doing my job well enough to stay alive.

"I'll get you water to clean with and some food," I told Ano. "I doubt Faygen will risk a fire. Everything's going to be cold tonight."

I didn't expect a reply. I suppose I just needed to hear my own voice. I needed to reassure myself. It wasn't my worst nightmare, but the thought of some lord's troops descending on our heads, and cutting us all down, was ever present. I grasped at anything, even talking to Faygen's unresponsive whore, to keep my mind off of it.

I stood and began to walk towards the supply wagon, seeing that the man who doubled as a cook as well as a cold blooded murderer, was handing out cold rations to a quickly forming line. Faygen stopped me. The man came out of a group of men, laughing and energized, as if he hadn't just had a grueling ride over rough country. With bright, eager eyes, he went to stand over his captive minion to see how he fared.

Not tonight, I silently begged. Keep it in your pants and let the boy rest. When Faygen crouched and drew his knife, my fear had another cause. I was surprised when Faygen cut the boy's hands free. Of course the boy couldn't move them. The wrists were raw with raised, open sores. It was plain that he had struggled continuously to stretch the leather enough to win his freedom. It was also clear that he had almost succeeded.

Faygen smiled. "Want to get up and kill me with your bare hands, don't you?" he laughed. "I'll train that out of you too."

Faygen grabbed a handful of the boy's dark hair harshly, moving as quickly as a striking snake, and shoved the boy's face between his legs. The boy struggled, gasping, bringing up his hands, but unable to close the fingers effectively to do anything but flounder. Faygen held him easily in place. Finally, exhausted, the boy stopped struggling. I could see the rapid, bellows like movement, of his chest as he tried to breathe pressed up against Faygen's crotch. I heard what sounded suspiciously like a choked attempt not to cry.

"Try to escape," Faygen warned. "and I'll cut off what little you have for manhood. Then I'll leave you tied to a stake for the real wolves. I don't have to tell you what part of you they'll start on first, do I? Not a quick death, I assure you."

Faygen pushed Ano back and the boy sat down heavily, his face red and sweating and his eyes glassy. He was trembling with rage and horror. I could even see the tips of his hair vibrating. Faygen cupped Ano's chin, caressed his face, and suddenly directed a strange, almost tender look at the boy.

"Tell me your name," Faygen asked it gently, his usual style, the firm, gentle hand before he savaged with the teeth of his cruelty. I was going pale. I had seen men make the fatal mistake of ignoring that moment of charity. I wanted to scream at Ano to take it, to save himself, to not be a fool. What did it matter if he spread his legs so long as he lived another day? For me, the answer was simple. For Ano, it was as well. He turned from that gentle hand and set his face in a rigid, closed expression.

Without warning, Faygen straightened. His booted foot caught Ano in the chest, sending the boy sprawling on his back. In a powerful moved, as if it were a dance step, Faygen changed his footing and then brought his booted foot down between Ano's legs.

Ano emitted a squeal of pain, his body curling into a fetal position in a convulsion as he clutched at himself. He thrashed in horrendous pain, eyes wide enough to show the whites, face as pale as snow, and lips open in an O of shock.

Faygen didn't look pleased. It was clear he had wanted to avoid hurting the boy. I hadn't expected that. I looked at Ano's shuddering body and saw that he was now vomiting in his shock and almost choking on it as he tried to breathe in gasps at the same time. Faygen looked disgusted, not at Ano's sickness, I realized, but at the necessity for what he had been forced to do.

"Now you've had a taste of what real pain can be like, Ano," Faygen said. "I will ask you again. What is your name?"

The boy saved himself by passing out. I thought that Faygen would order me to wake him again, but the Wolf had other things to attend to. He nudged Ano with his foot, looking frustrated, and then he turned on his heel and walked back into the throng of killers making their beds on the cold ground.

I crept cautiously to the boy, wary now that his hands were free and half afraid that he was only faking unconsciousness. I relaxed when I saw his lax expression. His cheek and lip were bleeding, scraped by the buttons of Faygen's pants, no doubt. I dug out my rags and salve and set to work cleaning him up and treating his wrists.

"Shedou," the boy murmured, barely a whisper, a mere breath escaping between pain fevered lips. That was all. One word. Was it his name? Had he given it, in desperation, his subconscious afraid that my touch was a prelude to another kick?

Shedou. I locked it away within myself. A secret. The only one I had, I realized with a sinking feeling. The killers around me knew everything about me, every sordid detail. It made me powerless against them. Knowing that name, that word, that one utterance that even Faygen's brutality had not won from the boy, gave me a strange sensation of power again. I finally had something that they didn't. I determined not to give it up.

Chapter Two

I kept using the name that Faygen had given to the boy, even to myself, for fear that his real name might slip out and be revealed inadvertently. When morning came, he was awake and sitting up gingerly, hands coming up as he examined his wrists and became used to having his hands again. I watched him openly, seated only a few feet away, wondering if that taste of pain from the other evening had dented his defiance.

There was a look in Ano's eyes that I was used to seeing. Faygen's victims often had that look. I probably had it myself; a wariness, a tense expectation that horrendous pain or death might come at any moment. Some of Ano's innocence about his situation had been erased by Faygen's kick. He knew now that simply dying wasn't the worst that could happen and that Faygen didn't have any honor when it came to torture.

I gave him breakfast, almost inedible, cold grain porridge that the cook had saved from the previous day. Ano wouldn't take the bowl from my hand, so I placed it onto the ground. He took it up with difficulty then and I saw that his fingers had trouble closing. Ano looked both frustrated and concerned. He was a swordsman. If the ropes had caused permanent damage, then his days of lifting a blade in battle were over.

"I'm sure they will be better later," I found myself saying and then frowned. Why give him hope? I didn't know enough healing to tell for certain. His involuntary nod though, and a small relaxing of the worry line between his dark brows, gave me a ridiculous feeling of having done something good. It was ridiculous, I thought sourly as I began packing my things. The boy hated me along with the rest. Trying to help him outside of my duties, or trying to make him feel better about his situation, wasn't going to gain me his trust or friendship. Given the chance, I was certain that he'd slit my throat as quickly as any of Faygen's pack.

As we began the journey for the day, Faygen kept well ahead, speaking often with his scouts. Ano walked with head down, not looking at anyone. A few offered him some insults and some suggestive signs, so I didn't blame him. I doubted that he would believe me if I told him that most of the men would rather have bedded one of the horses than a boy, even a good looking one, and the insults were just that, captors taunting a captive. I could tell from the tense shoulders and tight mouth, that Ano considered all of them a danger to him.

Ano rubbed at his wrists and flexed his fingers often. They continued to refuse to respond as they should and I could see his despair growing. Once or twice, I caught him looking at the men around him, at the two men in particular who were always close by and watching him with hands on their sword hilts.

"Don't try it," I warned, guessing that he was looking for an opportunity to escape. He glared at me from under the tangle of his dark hair, but I gestured to the men around us and said, "They may look like drunken fools, but, if you try to run, you'll see why they call themselves Faygen's pack. They can track anything and they're used to long hauls on few rations. You can barely walk, let alone try to out distance people like them."

"Down!" A voice suddenly shouted amidst the sound of drumming hooves. A scout had seen danger and was sending out the warning.

We were silent as we began to erase our tracks and take cover. Men mounted the horses, even unhooking the ones attached to the supply wagon, and galloped off. The wagon was camouflaged. The men found hiding places within the cool shadows of the forest around us and everyone drew a weapon in case of discovery.

I pulled Ano to a dip in the earth, overshadowed by the low, thick bows of an evergreen, and pushed him down until he was lying flat on his belly. He resisted my touch, flinching away from it, but I didn't have time to explain or coddle him as I pinned him to the earth with my own body and put a knife to his throat. When he froze, I whispered in his ear, "My life depends on your silence. If it comes to a choice, you know which one I'll make. Don't be a fool."

Ano didn't reply, but he didn't move either. I kept my grip on him and waited with the rest. Long minutes dragged by. I felt the sweat of fear trickle down the side of my face and I trembled with tension. Just when I thought that whatever had alarmed the scout had gone another route, they came into a clearing, men on foot, armed and armored and all to obviously looking for us.

Ano tensed under me. I wondered if he knew some of the men. One was old and the clear leader. He appeared to be frustrated as he looked at a map and a compass. He called to one of the men and said, "They have to be near here. We've established that they're heading for the mountains. We've already searched the alternate route. I'll hand the Count my liver on a plate with my own hands if I don't get his boy back from those butchers!"

I could see that the man he was speaking to was holding back. When the older man began walking again, with the clink and clatter of armor, the man looked at his back sadly. I knew that they were speaking of Ano and I knew that this man didn't believe that they would find him alive.

We were experts at blending with our surroundings. The men were going to walk past us and never know how close they had been to death, but, at that moment, someone in the pack made an inadvertent, loud noise; a thud of some object striking another object. I'm not sure what it was, wood upon wood, maybe, and having to do with the wagon, but I saw the leader instantly twitch and take notice. It wasn't a noise that could have come from his men.

"Kill them!" Faygen shouted and the pack was on the searchers all in an instant. There wasn't much of a struggle. It was too quick, too violent. Blood and flesh parted, splattered, and flew. Men screamed, wailed, and called for mercy. They weren't given any.

Ano struggled once or twice, gasping and sobbing beneath me, but he wasn't desperate enough to try my blade. When he saw the men part at last and the corpses tumbled everywhere, Faygen's men laughing and beginning to loot them, he went absolutely limp and buried his face against his arms. He didn't see Faygen drag out a man from his pack and gut him. I supposed he had been the one to make the noise.

"Move out!" Faygen ordered. The men with the horses would track us. We couldn't afford to wait for them. Men put their shoulders to the supply wagon and the pack began walking again.

I pulled Ano up and dragged him. His face was white, his eyes large. He dug in his heels as we passed the leader. I saw, with creeping nausea that he wasn't quite dead. He was making a pitiful mewing noise that was half choked with a fatal flow of blood from his mouth. Ano wanted to kneel and tend him, but I swore at him and forced him to continue.

"He's dead!" I said coldly. "You're alive! Walk if you want to stay that way!"

Ano looked back and he stumbled again and again until the dying man was out of sight. Facing forward at last, I saw that he had a new line between his frowning brows and a haunted look that hadn't been there before. His blue eyes held a pain I knew wouldn't go away any time soon.

The land grew rocky as we approached the mountains. The going was harder. The horses caught up with us and men gratefully mounted and rode, leaving the lesser men of the pack, like myself, straggling behind wearily. When we stopped for the night. The last thing I wished to do was to care for Ano. If my life hadn't counted on doing just that, I would have curled up under my blanket and left him to his own fate.

After a cold dinner of dried meat and caked, dried fruit, I sat swigging water from a skin and watched my charge slowly chew his way through his own food. He ate automatically, eyes straight ahead and blank. I wondered what that dead man had meant to him. A relative? A trusted guard? Ano seemed sad, horrified even, but not lost to grief. Rather he looked like someone who was realizing that honor meant nothing to Faygen and that he was in the hands of a true killer. Maybe he was wondering how long he had to live, how long he would continue to be interesting enough to Faygen to keep alive?

When Faygen approached, I saw Ano pull himself into a tight huddle and grip his knees. He stared down at the ground as Faygen came to stand in front of him, looking down with an intense expression.

"He was looking for you," Faygen said. "You belong to me. Those who try to take what is mine, die."

Ano's expression turned to hate and he glared up at Faygen, jaw clenched. Faygen's reaction was instant. He reached down, caught Ano's arm and twisted it up behind the boy's back. Pulling the boy up hard against him, Faygen growled into his ear. "I give an order only once. You will lay on your back and open your legs to me, now!"

Faygen shoved Ano away from him. Ano stumbled, but kept his feet. Rubbing his tortured arm, he suddenly made an obscene gesture with his fingers while he continued to glare defiantly.

"Shit!" I whispered under my breath, not knowing whether the boy was incredibly stupid or brave.

Faygen laughed, but there was a twitch near his eye that I knew well. He appreciated the boy's fire, but he was angry at the boy's defiance. He motioned to Ano's shadow guards. "Find two good trees close together outside of camp, make me a very small fire, and get me four horse tethers."

The men moved to obey. Ano was beginning to be afraid now. He backed up two steps, tense.

"Sorry, child," Faygen sighed as he motioned another man to grab and hold him. "You were given your chance."

I sat up with my blanket wrapped around me as they dragged Ano off into the wilderness. I listened. I heard sounds I couldn't identify, none of them screams, and wondered what was happening. I could guess, but the silence was strange, unnerving. I could see other men looking off into the tree, wondering as well.

Faygen and his men finally returned without Ano and my heart when down into my boots. If the boy was dead, I would soon be dead as well. When Faygen approached me, he didn't look happy. He looked oddly puzzled and weary.

"Take care of Ano. Put out the light when you are done," Faygen ordered and I scrambled to obey even though I was afraid of what I would find.

I took my medicine, a pot, a pile of rags, and my skin of water towards the faint light among the trees. Near that small campfire I saw him on his back, tethers leading away from him on either side and attached tightly to trees.

When I stood over him, I nearly vomited. My supplies hit the ground and scattered. I felt the hairs on my head stand up with horror. Ano was naked. They had tied his arms behind his back and his legs were tied at the knees and pulled cruelly apart. His mouth was gagged, explaining the silence. He was as pale as milk, body shuddering at my approach like a skittish animal. His wide, clear blue eyes were terrified, begging me silently not to hurt him. Between his legs, in at least a dozen places on his genitals, I saw burn marks. It was obvious that Faygen had gone into him again as well and not gently. I didn't think the other men had been given the pleasure. I couldn't imagine Faygen sharing his prize.

I kneeled. My hands were shaking as I untied the leather knots on his knees. "It's... It's all right," I stammered. "It's over. I'll -I'll clean you up, now. I'll make you feel better."

It sounded incredibly stupid. How could anything make the boy feel better? Yet, I had the power to take away physical pain at least. When his knees came down, he tried to close them and inch away from me, but the pain of his burns stopped him. I caught him with the same expertise I had used on livestock on the farm, pinned him, and cleaned up his anus. When I put the numbing cream up inside of him with a finger, he whimpered. I used my lightest touch on his burns.

Boiling some water in my pot, I used my rag to clean off blood and dirt from Ano and then I helped him to dress. He allowed it with only a flinch once or twice. He understood that I was helping him and that he needed that help.

I kicked out the fire at last and then turned to crouch by Ano. Carefully, I removed the gag. It had bitten into his skin. There were cuts and bruises on both sides of his mouth. He didn't make a sound, only bit down on his lip as I untied his arms and helped him back into camp. He staggered and limped, his legs hardly holding him up.

After I had lowered Ano to the ground near his blanket, he collapsed onto his side and then pulled it up near his chin, fisting it in both hands. I saw him let out a shuddering breath. His shoulders were still set stubbornly and I suddenly knew that Ano had not said or word or given Faygen an inch of abeyance. It seemed an incredible notion to me, but when I looked past him and saw Faygen watching us, I saw a look on Faygen's face that confirmed my guess. Faygen looked both respectful and like a man handed a great challenge.

Ano wasn't going to be able to walk. That was clear as the sun rose and men gathered their gear to march. The boy lay despondently on his side, jaw clenched and eyes glazed with pain. His expression wasn't defiant that morning, though, but numb. It was a look that I had seen on many a victim's face. It was growing shock and the mind's inability to keep coping with abuse. Usually, I had seen such an expression on the faces of men tortured for information, but mostly on the women the pack took in raids. Once that look took root, they never lasted very long afterwards.

Faygen approached. I bit my lip and stood expectantly. Ano curled up with his hands between his legs, easing the pain by keeping his legs apart, and turned his face away from Faygen. I could see him trembling. Faygen studied him and then ordered, "On your back, Ano. That will be my only order this morning." When Ano refused, Faygen sighed. "You're proud," he said as he took a thick hand whip from his belt, the one he kept for controlling his unruly stallion and his men, "but your pride doesn't have any place here."

The whip cracked through the air and Ano jerked and cried out hoarsely as blows rained down on his side and legs. Faygen paused. Ano was writhing on the ground, his hands trying to protect his body while he whimpered, wept, and instinctively tried to crawl away.

"The back is such a sensitive place on a man's body," Faygen commented and then brought the whip down hard between Ano's shoulders. It was pure reflex that made Ano turn his back to the ground, not any conscious decision to comply. Faygen smiled though, down into Ano's tear stained, red face, and said, "See, such a simple thing to obey a simple order. Good boy, Ano." He reached down, petted Ano's head as if he had performed a clever trick, and then strode away to mount his horse.

The expression on Ano's face was stunned disbelief. His mouth opened and closed in shock and then he cried out as if his soul was being rent in two and buried his face against his arms, body shaking with sobs.

I felt ill and I had an irrational urge to kneel down and comfort the boy. I resisted that urge. Looking weak wasn't a good idea in a pack of men who viewed that as an excuse to torment and kill a man. Instead, I heard my own words as if someone else were speaking them, "Get up, boy, and walk. Crying isn't for men. You're shaming yourself. I thought that you were stronger than that." My taunts were cruel, but they had their desired effect. Ano wiped trembling hands across his face and glared at me. He was biting his lip hard and I saw some blood along his white teeth. His clear, blue eyes were unnerving. I thought of curses and witches and shivered.

One of the men said behind me, "I see when a man is down and so does Faygen." I flinched and turned as the reins of a shaggy horse were thrust into my hand. The black, large headed, foul tempered beast muttered and stamped a feathered hoof as the man who had delivered him stood a wary pace away and added, "Put the boy on him. Watch his teeth. He'll keep settled if you crack the whip on his head once in awhile. I know you're not a horseman, so walk and lead him." The man, a tall North man with a shock of blonde hair, spat aside as he gave Ano a disgusted look. "He should have killed him. Faygen's going soft." It was said in a low tone, as if the man was talking to himself. That comment was a warning. As the man stalked away, I felt uneasy. If the leadership was in contention, blood was going to flow soon enough.

I turned to Ano. The boy's anger had slumped back into numb depression. He wasn't looking at anything, his thoughts sunk into himself and his face blank. Only the bruised look in his eyes revealed that he was hurting both mentally and physically.

"Don't make trouble," I warned him. "Get up on the horse."

I had to help Ano. He acted listless, his body going where I directed it and his eyes still on nothing, as I struggled to put him into the saddle. Only then did he make some sign that he was still in his right mind. Ano hissed in pain as he discovered that he couldn't sit astride the hide saddle. It hurt his burns too much. Instead, Ano was forced to sit side saddle like a woman. His face turned red to his ears and I saw the tears he lowered his head to hide sliding across his hot cheeks.

Ano was weakening, I thought, unable to hide his emotions any longer. It wouldn't be long before Faygen broke him completely. Forcing Ano onto his back had been a taste of what was to come, I was sure. Faygen was going to make Ano see that he was helpless and break his pride until he did, willingly, what he was being forced to do now. A man broke a wild horse in the same manner. Once a horse was beaten into submission, it's wild pride shattered, only then was a master's will accepted. Some horses died rather than submit. Looking up at Ano, who was gripping the saddle horn with white knuckles and bowing low over his pain as he cried, I didn't think, now, that Ano would be one of those.

We played cat and mouse through the craggy rocks, troops nearly stepping on our heels. Ano fell into a distant place in his mind and did what ever I told him to do without any rebellion. Faygen had his hands full keeping his scouts organized and his wolves in order. He didn't have time for his toy and I was glad. It gave Ano time to heal and, I hoped, time to accept his new lot in life. My life depended on his keeping Faygen's interest and I didn't think Faygen wanted a fight every time he took a boy to bed with him. His patience would wear thin eventually and he would decided that Ano wasn't worth the trouble, especially with death around every corner and a hard ride up into the mountains ahead of us. Even if Ano's new calm was a product of shock or madness, I couldn't help wishing that it was permanent and not just a calm between storms.

Our cover was thinning as the land grew even rockier. As our sure footed, mountain horses took the steep trails, we were often faced with a sheer drop on one side and a tumbled wall of rocks on another. Not a safe place for bandits to be, exposed for archers to pick us off and no way to escape if they did. We went slowly, scouts creeping ahead and behind, and Faygen making us pitch camp again and again to wait nervously for their word that it was safe to go forward. It was in one of those tense camps that Faygen's second in command joined us with his band and his 'companion'.

I don't know how the man had found us in that wilderness. I was still too new to know whether we were following a planned route or not. It had seemed to me that we wandered, backtracked often, and zig zagged without rhyme or reason, yet this man had found us without any trouble, swinging down from his horse and greeting Faygen with a hearty laugh.

Bizohn. I heard everyone whispering his name and becoming uneasy. I knew his reputation. He was a fierce and ruthless fighter, but a reasonable man who often tempered Faygen's impulsiveness and his legendary temper. He was the brawn and the calculation behind Faygen's throne. He was smart enough to know that charisma, rather than ability, often won the leadership, and was content to direct and carry out mayhem without the burden of having to sit the throne and watch his back.

I left Ano spooning hot grain around and around his wooden bowl in a lost, dejected manner, and went to see Bizohn for myself. I managed to squeeze between other gawkers and saw the man standing by Faygen. He was a huge, burly man with a foot long, iron gray beard and iron gray hair as wild as a bramble patch. His cunning eyes were black chips under bushy brows and his thick lips were set in a hard smile He wore well worn armor and kept his hand on his sword hilt as if he were thinking of drawing his sword and running Faygen through despite the good humor they were displaying to each other.

The slim, tall boy by his side looked a little older than Ano. He was dressed in very fine leathers and his very long, white hair was caught back in a pony tail clasped in silver. He was handsome and he looked pleased, smiling at Bizohn like an indulgent wife. I would have mistook him, perhaps, for a son of Bizohn, or some well thought of companion and nothing more, but men were already whispering around me, commenting on Bizohn's whore. Makin. That was his name. I didn't hear disgust or the usual crude talk, only a bit of amazement that the boy was still Bizohn's favorite and some respect that he actually fought at the man's side on raids.

You could have that, Ano, I thought, if you just let go of damn pride and let Faygen have what he wants, yet I felt a flush at my own thoughts. Thinking of that proud boy forgetting everything that he was to join murderers, and to become the head murderer's willing whore, turned my stomach unexpectedly. I had to back out of the crowd and make my way back to Ano. I'm not sure why. I felt, suddenly, a need to reassure myself that he was all right and, maybe, to atone for my thoughts of him by caring for him.

When I saw the empty spot where Ano had been sitting, and the discarded bowl of grain on the ground, contents spilled out into the dirt, I knew that he had made a run for it. As a sliver of cold ice went up my spine, I had a second to wonder whether I should call for Faygen or run for it myself. I was struggling with it, one part of myself crowing with glee that the boy was free, and the other part of myself peeing in fear because I knew what the consequences of that freedom was for me. Thankfully, the decision about what to do was taken out of my hands. Faygen had decided to show off his new toy.

"Seems your pet needs a lesson," Bizohn commented.

Faygen's face turn as red as fire. His hand rose and he made a signal to a guard that was clear. Fetch Ano back. The man called to two others and they were gone into wilderness, eyes on the ground as they searched for a trail. Turning, Faygen called to another guard. "Kill the man who should have been watching him."

The guard began to draw his sword and step towards me, but Faygen stopped him.

Impatiently, Faygen said, "Not HIM! The guard!"

I fell to my knees and swallowed hard. I couldn't help a wave of relief that left me weak. As the guard moved off to do obey his orders, Bizohn said something aside to Makin that I didn't hear. The boy went pale and looked off into the trees as if he were remembering something from his own past. I wondered if he had ever run for it.

"He's stubborn, the like of which I haven't seen in a long time," Faygen said to Bizohn. "He wouldn't break, though I think he was beginning to bend."

Bizohn laughed and I felt a chill. His laugh was full of good humor, as if he were a gentle man sharing a fireside joke, not a murderer who was known far and wide for his ruthlessness. "Give him to me. You know my skill."

"I don't want him shattered," Faygen warned.

Bizohn gave Makin a small touch along a smooth cheek as he said, "Oh, I know how to make a man heel and still be whole afterwards, never fear. You should trust my skill by now. Once a pet realizes that things can be so much worse than being one man's bed mate, he becomes eager to please."

I turned my face away, both relieved that Ano wasn't going to be killed for running away and uncomfortable that they were talking about such personal things as if I didn't exist or count.

"We can't stay here long," Faygen said, frowning up at the midmorning sun. "I'll leave a scout to watch our back and lead the searchers back to us. We need to mount up and ride."

Bizohn nodded, but he was frowning too. "The 'blind' is a day and a half from here. My men are exhausted and yours look to be as well. We should stay there at least a week to re-supply and recover."

"The search has been intense," Faygen replied uncertainly. "We bit to many lording's in our raids. They are determined to flush us out of cover."

Bizohn shook his head and his armor rattled together. "I shouldn't have taken that raid in the East. I would have advised against such concentrated attacks."

Faygen snarled angrily, "We didn't expect the entire country to come down on us! We didn't have any choice but to kill for supplies and to eliminate the possibility of reprisals."

Bizohn grew suspicious. "We've been raiding for years. Why do they band together now and attack? Who is this new pet of yours? Is he the reason for all of this?"

Faygen went closed lipped and then he growled, turning away. "What's done is done and the boy is mine. Who he used to be doesn't matter."

Bizohn swore under his breath and then I heard him say. "I hope that is true for our sakes."

I kept quiet and small and tried not to bring attention to myself as the hours passed. I had some wild notion of running myself. If Ano had done so well... but I knew it for the false hope that it was. I knew that Ano would eventually be brought back, alive or in pieces, however those guards could manage it.

I was sad to be so right. As darkness began to fall, and we made camp in the lee of a tumble of vine covered rocks, the guards came into camp dragging Ano along with them. He had blood on his face and large, purpling bruises. His eyes.... I felt a chill... they were stunned and lost. He had given everything in that one attempt and I could see that there was nothing left over to help him face what was coming.

Faygen came out of the darkness with Bizohn following behind. Ano didn't look up. He stared at the ground. Faygen looked him over carefully and then he said, "You ran. You will be punished. Every time that you disobey an order, I won't kill you, but you'll wish that I had. You'll also wish that you had never dared disobey me."

Faygen nodded to the guards. He and Bizohn walked out of camp and the guards dragged Ano after them. The men milled nervously and mine and everyone's else's ears strained to hear... something. There was nothing though, just a few random, odd noises, hardly rising above the sound of many men and beasts going about their business.

"You'll need to be ready to tend him," Makin said.

I was huddled in my blanket, sitting cross legged on the ground, staring off into the darkness. "What will I need to be ready for?" I asked nervously, not sure how much respect was due a right hand man's whore.

"Bizohn won't leave marks, except inside," Makin replied. "The young man will be in shock and in pain. There are a lot of ways to make a body hurt without damaging it."

"How can I tend that?" I asked darkly and huddled into a tight ball.

There was silence. I looked up. Makin was staring off into the darkness too. He never did answer. Maybe there wasn't one. When one guard appeared with Bizohn and Faygen following in deep conversation, I left Makin standing there. I didn't need an order to get my things and to hurry to where they had come from.

The one guard left behind was looking very hard at nothing, his jaw tight and his eyes narrowed. Those eyes took note of me, remembered who I was, and then slid aside. The man growled, "Get him back into camp. I'm not touching him."

Ano was sprawled on the cold ground, gagged and naked. One leg had been drawn up behind him and tied with a length of leather. Another strip was tied about his throat. From the angry red marks underneath, I could tell that he had been struggling. He was filthy. He had vomited. There was blood. It was clear that they had treated him worse than a dog and then some.

Ano was breathing with a stressed hitching sound, his eyes crusted with tears and blinking. I knew he was in intense pain. Even when I managed to work the straps loose and ungagged him, he seemed unable to move, his muscles trembling and flinching when I straightened out his leg for him.

"It's me," I said unnecessarily. "It's over. I'll clean you up."

It was as if my words had some magic. He relaxed suddenly and his eyes rolled back into his head as his body went limp. I realized then that he hadn't known that they were done with him and that he had been expecting fresh pain at any moment. Still brave, I thought with wonder and awe, still fighting them. It was incredible. I'd never in my life met a person like the boy before me and couldn't understand how such a person could be. When I was very little, I had been told old tales of heroes on valiant quests enduring great hardships. I hadn't believed them, my own life too full of base and cruel people to believe in greater spirits. I believed now.

"I should have killed him," the guard whispered, as if to himself. "I could have said that it was necessary."

"Yes," I agreed. "You should have." It was ridiculous thing to say, I knew on a deeper level. The boy's death would have meant my own, but I couldn't help that part of me that wished the boy free no matter how.

I cleaned him up. I morbidly tried to discover what they had done to him, but Makin had been right, I found red welts and strange marks that were quickly fading, but nothing too severe. I didn't think, by that, that Faygen or Bizohn had been kind.

"He won't be running away again," the guard said, as if to confirm what I was thinking.

I nodded and finished my task. Ano's clothes were ripped. I would have to find him replacements, I thought as I worked them back on him. Where we were going, a person needed to be armored against the cold in as many layers as possible. Rips meant chancing death.

Picking Ano up like a child, it was too easy to carry him back into camp. That was dangerous too. I hadn't been watching him to see if he was eating enough. I had to rectify that. A realization struck me as I thought that. Lowering Ano to the ground, and wrapping him in blankets, I wondered at myself. I'd never really cared about anyone's welfare before. I had the threat of death to force me to care about Ano, but, I felt, it was becoming more than that.

"Stupid, stupid" I swore at myself and pulled at my own hair sharply. Ano wasn't going to live long, I was certain, getting soft and caring what happened to him was a waste of time. Besides seeing to his needs, there was nothing I could do for the boy anyway, accept stand by and watch his slow torture and demise. Caring about him was as foolish as getting attached to a farm animal on his way to the slaughter.

I winced. That was harsh even for me, but it did it's job. It helped me to lock up whatever stray emotions were stirring for the boy and to harden my heart with the hammer of reality. All the boy had to do was open his legs and let Faygen do what he wanted, I reminded myself. It was his own mad stubbornness that was getting him hurt.

"He's so handsome." Makin was there again, as light footed as a ghost. It made me twitch and I decided then and there to dislike him. "I can see why Faygen and Bizohn favor him." There was a tenseness in that comment. Perhaps Makin was afraid of being replaced? "I wonder who he is?"

Ano's face was pinched and pale above the blanket. His dark hair was matted and disordered. I reached out without thinking and brushed it away from his face. I pulled my hand back and fisted it. "Someone important, or they wouldn't be looking so hard for him," was my reply, "Not that it's any of our business. He's nobody now, just like us."

Makin frowned and I felt him looking at me. "Remember that."

My hand fisted tighter. I knew what he meant. Don't take liberties. Don't paw the master's toys. I was angry that he thought that I was interested THAT way in Ano, that I might be contemplating... "I know my place. Do you know yours?" I snapped back, but when I looked, he was already gone.

We moved out again as soon as light touched the mist all around us. It was hard going. The land was getting rocky and footing was treacherous. I led the rough shod horse with Ano in the saddle, watching carefully lest we fall down into the treacherous ravines pockmarking the land all around us. He sat slumped, his eyes looking confused, pained, and desolate and I found myself reaching out more than once to keep him in the saddle when he swayed dangerously.

"Lean forward and rest while you can," I said at last. "I'll make sure you don't fall."

I was rewarded with something that was almost a glare, but lacked any real strength. Still fighting. I would have been awed if I hadn't known how worthless that defiance was, and how much it cost. He did finally lean forward though, his arms wrapped around his waist to steady himself, and he did seem to sleep, his head lolling . I kept one hand on him and was glad. Sleeping removed him from our shared ordeal, and I found that I could stop thinking about him and start thinking about my own predicament.

As the mist rose and the land became clear, I could see that we were steadily climbing upward towards a range of mountains. I could see Faygen and Bizohn towards the center of the pack, not the front where they could be prey to attack, but at the nerve center of their men where they could more easily coordinate them.

They expected an attack. The wolves were nervous, weapons sliding in and out of sheathes and eyes scanning the rough terrain. We were very vulnerable. There was a narrow pass that we were about to enter. Once inside, we were committed. If troops were waiting for us, it would be simple for them to sandwich us in and slaughtered us at their leisure.

"Once we get to the High Reaches, not even the Gods can defeat us," a man boasted with a tense grin. "That's our territory and we know every crag and peak."

The lair of the wolf pack, I thought, having heard about it constantly. I imagined some sod roofed warren stuck among the rocks in an inhospitable tundra, knowing the country they spoke of, and I discarded the overblown descriptions offered by men who'd never seen it. That made me think of how much new blood was in the pack, including myself. The weak had been culled with a vengeance. What was left was the core, the men as hard as the iron forge of a smithy and as wily and dangerous as sewer rats. I felt a chill along my spine, the bony fingers of the Death Reaper, held at bay by the say so of one man and not by any skill of mine. I wasn't on a par with the men around me. I knew, without a doubt, if the boy had not fallen to my care, that I would be feeding the buzzards at that moment. I was a servant and nothing more, not a pack mate, not one of Faygen's hand picked. I was the servant of Faygen's whore.

That was hard to take. I was less than nothing, my origins lower than humble, but there was still a core of pride that rankled and wanted more. That more, I realized, had nothing to with becoming part of the pack, in truth, and more to do with running away and being something else. Might as well dream for steak and a soft, warm, bed I growled internally. I was what I was and my life was measured from moment to moment and the continued breathing of an abused boy.

Men rode in. Nerves were strung tight and weapons were drawn and explosive, frightened curses uttered. I found myself taking the horse's lead and tightening my grip in preparation to get away with the boy. It felt my fear and dragged at the rope, trying to free itself. Harness jingled loudly. The boy stared, blank eyed, at the men coming in on sweating, blood covered horses, and I saw that he wasn't either hopeful or alarmed. He realized before I did that these were part of the pack come back from some raid that Faygen had set them on.

The leader grinned through dirt and a black, shaggy beard as he tossed a bag to Faygen. Faygen caught it, grinning back. Opening it, he looked inside. Bizohn, laughed, short and sharp, seeing before anyone else what Faygen held. When Faygen pulled out a bloody head and tossed it with a shout of triumph it hit the ground and rolled near me. The horse I held started. I calmed it with an effort.

"Tyrill," Makin said with a grunt, sitting his horse like a prince and looking impeccable and calm beside me. "He slaughtered Faygen's last pack to the last man. Faygen swore he would have his revenge before he returned home."

Tyrill, a duke of the Northern fields. Even I had heard of him. He was known as a fierce warrior and a good man. Did Ano know him? I looked for some sign of recognition, but Ano was shivering slightly and looking at nothing. No, I corrected myself. He was looking at the opening to the pass. He knew, as well as I did, that once safely into the mountains, nothing could save him. There would not be any ransom. There would not be any happy relations claiming him. There would not be anything further, but abuse and Faygen's bed.

Once again, I wondered who he was. I wondered why Faygen refused to kill him or give him up. Something was going on beneath the surface, I was sure. Faygen never did anything without some thought, except when his temper was up, and he never missed an opportunity to acquire more wealth. To hold a potential source of gold for himself, instead of taking advantage of it, seemed far too out of character for the man. Things like, affection or even overpowering lust, didn't even occur to me. Faygen had discarded women and boys alike, whether through ransom or the edge of his blade, and emotions and his own need had never been part of those decisions.

Ano made a sound, like a small, tortured animal, as we passed the first tumble of stones and began to take a rocky track upwards. After a mile, after we were committed, he slumped and it was like watching a fire go out.

"I've never lived in privilege," I found myself saying. "I've always lived as best I could. Still, life has always seemed preferable to death. Fortune turns from breath to breath. Tomorrow's sun may find you free. Tomorrow's sun may find us both dead. No man controls the turn of Fortune's wheel, not even Faygen."

Was I offering hope when I didn't have much to offer myself? Why bother? I thought about that as I pulled the horse along with me. Why bother to breathe or to eat, I thought finally. It was true, what I said, that we might see our freedom one day, and that hope kept my feet moving, kept me from simply giving up. I wanted to live. Despite everything, I think Ano did too. Misery loves company, was the old saying, and I wanted company in mine. Perhaps I was a servant to a whore, but we were on a level when it came to our positions. We were walking the knife's edge, Faygen's knife edge, and it was better not to do it alone.

Once we were far up into the rocky crags of the trail, Faygen visibly relaxed. His men took his cue and relaxed as well, talking, riding, or walking in a loose pack instead of a tight knit, mobile force. They were home, their actions said clearer than words, and they felt nothing could challenge them there. When we made camp at a widening of the trail, they even camped as if they owned the world, everyone staking out the flattest spots to bed down on and moving apart until they were scattered everywhere. Faygen didn't correct them. He set several sentries and then turned to other pursuits.

Faygen's hands were suddenly all over Makin. The boy grew a distant look on his face and stood impassively as Faygen kissed his neck and pawed his crotch. Faygen encircled him with a large, muscled arm and drew him towards Bizohn. The grizzled second in command of the pack, grinned toothily and came close enough to make a sandwich of the hapless Makin. Both men pawed him and then drew him towards their blankets.

"Looks like you can rest tonight," I said as I helped Ano down and settled him on a blanket. I tried not to listen to Makin begin to cry out and Bizohn's and Faygen's laughter. There wasn't any privacy in a situation like that and it seemed that Faygen wasn't going to deprive himself . They were taking the hapless Makin together and I hadn't even imagined that such a thing could be done.

I heard disgusted remarks by men who didn't like that sort of thing, but those type of comments were spoken low and cautiously. I caught other, envious looks and thought about the tension Faygen was creating for men who were lacking bed mates. There were going to be fights, I thought, and men who were weaker taken into the dark. I thought about myself, about my status in the pack, and gripped my knife tightly. I edged closer to Ano.

It happened while I was moving. They took advantage of my being off balance and I was suddenly under several men and being shoved hard against the rocks. A boot stamped down on my knife hand and it went numb. I wasn't the target though, they wanted Ano. Did they have a death wish? I wondered it in shock, but then knew what they were thinking. Faygen was with Makin. He had moved on to another toy. The men thought that he had discarded his old one. Idiots! I thought, but that was nothing new. These men were brutal and skilled in only one thing, killing.

They had dragged Ano off by the time I was allowed to get up again. The men holding me laughed at me as they moved off to join their fellows. I knew what came next. I knew what they always left of Faygen's discarded toys. My use was at an end. I stood, my head throbbing and bleeding a bit from being smashed against rocks, and thought about running.

"Faygen, sir." My voice shook. I was terrified, not knowing how my feet had brought me to that place, to the groaning, writhing blankets containing the thrusting bodies of two men and their hapless victim. Makin was still looking hard at nothing, not even registering my presence. His bottom lip was caught in his teeth. Bizohn started and glared, a hand snaking out of the blanket to reach for his sword by his side.

Faygen said simply, as he kept his face buried in Makin's pale hair, "Speak."

Perhaps he realized that a man desperate enough to interrupt him in such a moment probably had something important to say. I felt desperate, desperate to save my hide and maybe, if I could admit it to myself, desperate to save Ano too.

"The men have taken Ano," I said, my voice shaking.

Faygen didn't admit to mistakes. He snarled at his guard, "Get him, now, and kill the ones who are with him. No one is to touch what is mine!"

The men scrambled to obey and they went in the direction where I pointed. I quickly heard screams and men begging for their lives. There was the metallic ching and thunk of metal against metal and metal meeting flesh. They were that close. Faygen wasn't paying attention. He was already back to pursuing his pleasure. I knew when I had been given a reprieve and I quickly backed away.

They brought Ano to me, clothes half off of him and limp in their arms. They hadn't gotten far, his attackers, not as far as Faygen. I took him and gently lowered him to our blankets. He lay like a broken doll, eyes glassy and staring at nothing and a trail of blood running from his nose. He shuddered and then went still, his skin pale in the fitful light coming from the camp fires.

It was then that we were attacked. They had been, up among the crags, I think, waiting in ambush to catch us, literally, with our pants down. Our sentries were dead, I suspected, because an alarm was never given. They came down like a wave of death, swords and spears flashing and war cries echoing among the rocks along with the screams of wounded and dying men.

There wasn't time to react, certainly not any time to run. They rode through the men like farmers through a field of grain. The men fell before them and I was suddenly face to face with a horse breathing like a bellows and its armored rider glaring murderous fury from its back. A sword arced high and I instinctively shielded my head, crouching over Ano. Why try and protect him? I couldn't tell you. I don't know what moved me to sacrifice my life for his. I'd never been so uncaring for my skin before and I couldn't remember a time when I had cared about someone else's skin more than my own.

It saved me in the end, that gesture. Whatever it was, whatever it's cause, it convinced Death on Horseback to spare my life. He took up a position by us and said curtly, "Don't move." and then he was shouting orders to the men rushing all around us delivering death.

The horse stank. Blood smell was thick on the air. I was sweating, wide eyed and watching the slaughter, trembling as I watched my pack mates go down too damned easily. When I saw Faygen dragged out, naked, Bizohn butchered where he lay, and Makin taken away wrapped in a blanket, I felt.... Satisfaction? Glee? As if justice was being served? No, I felt as if my leader was being taken from me, the one man who had been directing my life and keeping me alive up until that point. I felt as if my world was being torn apart as surely as Faygen's head was being torn from his body in one slash of a soldier's broad sword. That head was bagged and the naked body was kicked aside as garbage. The executioner lifted the bloody bag to the man guarding Ano and me.

"Good work," the man told the soldier. "Form up ranks. Any prisoners?"

"No, sir," the man replied after checking with several officers.

"Good," my savior growled. "Beasts need to be put down."

The soldier looked passed the horse at me. He frowned. "Sir?"

The man on horseback turned his horse neatly and regarded me as well. He had blood up to his elbows and on his boots. His horse's face was splattered with it on one side. I wanted to cringe, but I was worse than a bird being stalked by a snake. I just sat and stared. "You are prisoners?" I caught the tone. I was to answer, yes, no matter what.

"Yes, sir. "I had to make two tries to say that. I was that afraid. I gathered my wits with an effort. I needed to convince them that we should be spared. "This one," I pointed to Ano. "I don't know his name, he would not give it, but... but I think he is a nobleman's son. I've been taking care of him. Please, sir, may I continue to do so?"

The man was looking Ano over and then his brows drew together sharply. "What's wrong with him?"

My care was being questioned. I leapt to my own defense. "They wanted him to talk, but he refused. They were not gentle. I think he is in shock."

"Brave for someone so young," the man grunted and then, "I am captain of Kitar's northern border patrol and I was sent orders to pursue these bandits. I wasn't told that they held a hostage of noble birth." He seemed to think for a moment and then he motioned to a man and commanded, "Put together a guard and take these two to the capitol. Let Ansauri deal with it." He glared at me then, "Best you be telling the truth, I warn you. If they find out that you were part of this murdering rabble and that your boy is too, they will kill you out of hand. " He hefted the bloody bag. "He slaughtered women and children. All of his followers deserve death."

So why wasn't I dead, I wondered. Had my one moment of odd selflessness moved him that much? When his man walked away to follow his orders, he gave me my answer.

"When a man kills, when he is evil, it's in his eyes," he said to me intently. "You tried to protect that boy. Your eyes are clear. I see nothing of killing in them, only a desire to live. I bring justice. There is no justice in sentencing victims of another man's evil to death."

Lofty words and ideals. I couldn't follow the logic or the emotions behind the words. I deserved to live because of my eyes? I supposed that no one else in the pack had been so lucky.

No one asked us our names. I suppose, in the middle of a pile of corpses and covered in blood and gore, niceties didn't come to mind. Truth be told, I was glad. I had skirted the edges of society, hiding in a cloak of anonymity. In the pack, I had been a shadow and I doubt more than a few had even known my name. I felt a sense of safety in that and I wanted it as long as I could. As far as Ano was concerned, being rescued didn't meant that he was safe. In a land full of clan chiefs and petty kings, it would be a safe bet that Ano's people were at odds with more than a few of them, no matter who they were. It was best to lie and lie well until I knew both of us were among friends and there was a part of me that didn't want to give away the secret that Ano had suffered to keep. It was in my mind that, if someone should give it, it should be him.

"You will follow me," a soldier ordered briskly and his hand was on his sword hilt. I blinked at him stupidly, wondering what sort of fool he took me for that he would think that I would put up a struggle now. I managed a nod and that satisfied him. Two better horses were secured and a guard detail was sorted out while I managed to get Ano on his and climb up on my own.

Horses made me nervous. We were almost enemies. Some people understood them, rode them as if they were centaurs, and swore by them. For me, it was a struggle. I could never relax and the beasts always sensed my unease and fought me. Having come from a farm, I knew sedate plow horses and swaybacked nags good for breeding and nothing else. Riding horses fresh with battle and smelling blood was something else entirely. I sawed at the reins and my mare rolled eyes and laid back her ears. The captain of our guard detail growled as he reached over and tied my reins together.

"Leave her be," he ordered me briskly. "She'll follow her line mates." meaning their horses.

Ano was sitting with a horseman's automatic skill. Even staring, as if the world had ceased to have meaning for him, it was obvious that he was at home in the saddle. The captain gave him an appraising look, but even a lowly soldier could be skilled on a horse and it wasn't a giveaway to the boy's breeding. His fine features were and the Captain was lingering longest on Ano's face, as if it was stirring a memory. Whatever memory it was, it wasn't completely forthcoming. The man finally shrugged and then called orders to us to move out. As he had said, my mare pricked ears and followed her line mates as if they were still tied together.

We left death behind. We left the pack behind. I was leaving a life. I looked back as the carrion birds began to settle, and the soldiers picked through the bodies, and then I looked forward. You didn't look at the past and stay sane. A man could grow a conscience that way or regrets. I kept looking, though, and kept wondering 'what if?' and 'why didn't I?'. I should have felt relieved, but, instead, I felt only lost and afraid, afraid of being found out for the loathsome rat I was. My life wasn't any safer with these soldiers, the rules had simply changed a bit.

We were going back the way we had come, all those deaths and all that effort made nothing by the simple movement of horse hooves. I couldn't help a bite of depression and even mustered some hate for my life, for the waste of it, for the way we seemed to be pushed around our violent lives by the whims of some mad god.

"How far?" I dared to ask.

"Three days," came my curt reply and I could feel the soldier's disdain for me and his suspicion. His commander and Lord might have some higher ideals for me, but this man knew exactly what I was. If not a killer, than at least not much better than the bandits they had left dead on the field behind us. I knew that, one wrong move, and these men who were guarding me would feel justified in ending their duty with my death.

I wasn't used to it, but, I felt, I COULD get used to it; the clean and organized ways of these soldiers. We stopped at regular intervals, ate meals that were better than anything I had eaten since joining the pack, and I experienced orderly, sane men going about their business. I stared. I enjoyed it. I felt a sense that it all just wasn't real.

Ano ate what I pushed into his mouth, but he still stared blankly, even though I had hoped that the soldiers would spark him to realize that he was free now. He was unimpressed though, still pulling forgetfulness over him like a shield. I could see what they thought of him, mad or coward. I could see that they liked being Ano's guard even less than they liked being mine.

The three days passed without event. I tended Ano, kept him cleaned , fed, and moving. When we reached a fortress set in the midst of green hills, I felt relief for him, but trepidation for myself. It had been so long since I had been inside even a house. A fortress prickled at me with promises of claustrophobia. I would be trapped, at their mercy, more so than I was now. There wouldn't be any chance of slipping off into the night .

They closed around me, my guards, as if feeling my nervousness. I was herded through the gates and, when our horses were taken from us, they escorted Ano and I into stone hallways filled with people coming and going. Who ever my benefactor had been, his business didn't merit instant access to the lord of that keep. Instead, we were told to cool our heels on a stone bench outside of a large hall. I sat nervously, Ano blankly docile by my side. My guards stood around us, looking tired, bored, and well used to waiting on a lord's whims.

I'm not sure what I expected, maybe to be given a room with the horses and forgotten about. I didn't think that we rated an audience. I felt exposed. I might have been given a pass by a soldier, but would a lord, who could order my death with a wave of his hand, see me as the noble person that man had? I couldn't imagine such an important person being that stupid. A man, walking with bandits, was obviously a bandit. Death was the penalty for banditry.

I looked at Ano. He was my only hope, I decided. I had to confess who he was. I had to hope that my nursing him would count for something, enough to save my life.

They called us. We stood. Ano stumbled. I put a hand around his waist, feeling him tremble with weariness as we made our way into the hall.

Lord Ansauri was an old man. Sitting in a great oak chair, chin on fist, he glared as we approached, sizing us up. His eyes didn't know me. Ano was another matter. Black brows came down sharply and he sat up, hands going into fists as he realized who the stumbling wreck at my side was.

"Lord Shedou," the man said in amazement. His eyes skewered me. "You are?"

Habit wanted me to make up a name, but I had an icy feeling along my spine that he would know it was a lie. I hesitantly said, "Lore, sir."

Silence stretched, long enough for me to start trying to find a means of escape from the corners of my eyes.

"You were allowed to come here, alive," Ansauri said. "You must have convinced the troops that you were worthy of life. I am not so easily swayed." He sat back in his chair and motioned to his guards. "Take him to the dungeon and take Lord Shedou to suitable quarters and call the physician."

Did I run? Did I fight? No, I was too used to being helpless and following orders to save my life. I did so now, crouching like a whipped dog as men dragged me down into the bowels of the keep and tossed me into a cold, stone cell.

To imagine what it was like for me, to have been a farmer's son and then a bandit under the stars... I wasn't prepared for darkness, for four very close walls, and for the complete silence after the guards left me. I don't think I was very sane. There's a blank period of panic and the next thing I realized coherently, was the fact that I was pressed against a wooden door and that everything that I wanted was beyond it. My only lifeline was the faint sounds of the guards, sounds I could only hear resonating as soft as breath through the wood of the door. I clung to it and tried to keep from crying like a babe.

How much time passed, I don't know, but when they opened that door, I crawled out, clutching at them wildly and begging them to take me out of there. Who was I to deserve mercy? I wasn't an innocent. Many people might say it was a good day's work to put me there and I might have agreed, if I hadn't been so desperate to never return there.

The guards drew weapons and threatened me until I consider a worse fate, death by being hacked by their swords. I calmed with an effort, panting as if I had run a race, but couldn't stop from clutching at them until one said, "Lord Ansauri orders your attendance."

A blessed reprieve. I was ready to face the Lord and promise anything, do anything, to win my freedom. It didn't strike me that I might be walking to an execution until we reached the doors of the hall. My mind began to work then and it couldn't find any good reason to be summoned before the lord. He knew who I was, what I was. Perhaps Shedou had awakened enough to accuse me.

Lord Ansauri was scowling. My gut clenched as I approached. When I finally faced him, he didn't indulge in pleasantries. "Lord Shedou will not allow anyone to care for him," he announced to me bluntly, "and he will not care for himself or eat. Your escort assures me that you were able to do this. Is that why you were spared?"

"Lord Shedou," It seemed strange to say the name, to think of it as Ano's, "was given into my care from the day of his kidnapping," I explained. "I am familiar to him."

"His nursemaid?" The Lord sneered. "Were you a poor bandit then, sir?"

Again, I didn't dare lie. "Yes," I admitted. "A very poor bandit."

"Did you wish to be a good one, Lore?" Lord Ansauri wondered dangerously.

I thought of all the killing, the rape, the torture and the truth of my words was in my face as I replied, "I am not a good man, Lord, but... I am not such a bad man either... No, I didn't wish to be a bandit at all. I was counting the days until my fellows realized that and murdered me. Lord Shedou was my reprieve."

"You witnessed what was done to him." It wasn't a question.

I nodded gravely.

"His father is dead, sir, along with his only kin, in battle. His lands have been apportioned. I've no one to send him home to. All he has in this world is his title, which is meaningless now. I am stuck with him and I find that very distasteful. I am in a war with bandits and border armies. I am threatened from all sides. It is charity for me to keep the boy under my roof, but I don't have the charity to spare men to watch over him. In that, your lot in life has improved in only that you are now a lord's servant and not a bandit. Death can come just as swiftly, though, if you prove false loyalty."

After my stay in the dungeon, I was willing to swear fealty to the devil himself. I bowed low. "I am at my Lord's command."
"I'm sure," the man sneered. He motioned for a guard. "Take him to Lord Shedou and give him whatever he needs. If he makes any move to leave Lord Shedou's company, at any time, slit his throat like a dog."

People stared as I was taken down marble corridors. Men swore at the sight of my stinking, ragged appearance, and women ducked behind fans or man servants. I felt like a leper, an outcast; a poor man in a place I had never dared dream of entering, so I couldn't help feeling relief when the guards led me away from those noble appointments, to ones that were more fitting well placed servants. Down a narrow hallway without windows, they finally stopped and opened a simple door. I was led into a room that was familiar to someone of my station.

Wooden floors, throw rugs, a well used fireplace black from generations of fires, and simple wood furnishings with stuffed wool cushions, reminded me of my youth and the farm house where I had grown up. For me, it was perfect, for a Prince, though, it was a tremendous insult. It spelled out, very plainly, Shedou's position here.

"I'll need food, a bath, and clean clothing," I told the guards as my eyes looked for Shedou. My tone was begging. Again I was given a sneer, but one of them nodded. They left, closing the door behind them, but I was under no illusion of freedom. I knew that at least one of them would stay to guard the door.

I heard a noise. There were several doors leading to other parts of the apartment. I chose one and found myself in a simple bedroom. It had a wash tub, a wash basin, a small fireplace, and a bed that was queen sized and covered in good quilts and pillows.

The noise came again from the other side of the bed. I cautiously called out, "Shedou?"

Nothing. I swallowed hard and called out instead, "Ano?"

A figure crawled out. It was Shedou, looking like a wild, demented animal. His dark hair was a tangled mess in his face. He was dirty. His clothes were half off and torn. He smelled of unpleasant things. He looked terrified.

"Ano, it's me," I soothed as I went to crouch at his side."It's over. Let me clean you up."

The terrified look softened and Shedou huddled, eyes wide and staring at me expectantly. That was something new. At least he was looking at me and not drifting within his own mind. I led him to the tub and sat him in a chair. I looked him over for wounds. I saw bruises, cuts, and the ragged, healing places from his captivity with Faygen. They were stained with salve. It looked as if someone had at least attempted to care for him.

"These are your people now," I told him softly. "They can take care of you now, if you allow them to. You don't have to fight any longer. Your name is Shedou. Do you remember that? Shedou. I can't keep calling you Ano."

He didn't respond. He was looking expectant, as if I was his lord and master. A hound might give a man a look like that. I almost preferred his blank look to this new one. I suppose I could understand it, though. He was feeling as lost and adrift as I was myself, I think. I was at least familiar.

A knock on the door announced the servants. "Stay here," I ordered a young man who had the birthright to be my lord and master, and left him to open the door.

Women came in carrying hot water, food, and clothing that was simple, but well made. I watched, taking a stance by Shedou as they filled the tub half full with steaming water and then laid out towels and bathing salts. The food went on a low table in the main room, and the clothing was put on the bed. One of the women looked at me timidly; She was heavy set and older and her face was kind.

"You are his new servant?" she asked even though the other women looked disapproving.

"Yes," I answered simply.

"Lord Shedou is calm now. He was so frightened of us," She told me."We couldn't care for him properly. I see that you are trusted."

I didn't bother explaining the root of that trust, that, to Shedou, I was the man who came when they were done with him, the man who eased his pain, the man who let him know that it was over, at least for a little while. Instead, I dared ask, "What sort of man is this Lord Ansauri?"

She looked at the other women nervously, but I didn't see any lie in her eyes when she replied, "He is a fierce warrior and he keeps our lands safe, but he can be hard on his enemies. See that you do not become one, young man."

I watched them go and I locked the door shut behind them. I caressed that thick, metal bolt. We were safe, Shedou and I. We were alone and without enemies who could reach us, unless they made an assault on the door bolt. I couldn't remember when I had ever been that safe, that free of fear. I could hardly believe in it.

We shared a bath, dirtying the water as I ran the bath salts and the scrub brush over our bodies and through our hair. It was heaven. I found a smile and even Shedou seemed relaxed and pleased. Clean, I took us out, wrapped us in towels, and sat us before the fire with the food arranged on the floor before us.

I guided Shedou through the meal, helping him eat. He was aware, but he drifted, and he reminded me of someone who was half asleep, or half in and half out of dreaming. He managed plain bread, meat soup, and a grain porridge with sliced fruit and cream.

At the end of the meal, I put us in our new clothes, woolen tunics and loose pants, and then sat before the fire again and felt... well... very well. It was almost painful. I couldn't understand that until I felt the tears stinging my eyes. I looked away from Shedou, ashamed, and told myself I was weak from my stay in the dungeon. The truth was, that, even though I lived at the pleasure of yet another master, I was beginning to think that it wasn't a terrible thing, that it might, actually, be a turn of good fortune.

I was surprised to find Shedou suddenly resting in my lap as if I had become his pillow. I stared down at his drying, combed out hair, and then... gently lowered a hand to smooth over it. He made a small sound, a happy sound, I thought, and knew that he was well, too.

Why didn't I feel resentful? Why didn't I hate him? Why didn't I curse Faygen for making my life dependant on his? Why didn't I curse Lord Ansauri? I had prided myself, long ago, on being my own man, on being free, but that freedom had been a lie. I'm more cynical now. I don't believe a man can ever be without some master, some higher power holding sway over his life. One could only hope for a kind master and a kind life. Looking around at the clean room, well fed and safe, I prayed that I had found both.

I put Shedou to bed and he fell asleep at once, like a child. I paced. I explored. I made myself familiar with the confines of my new life. When I finally felt weariness tugging at me, I didn't think twice about getting into the same bed as Shedou. People who were not lords slept together for warmth and few had actual beds to do it in. When I felt the soft mattress under me, the clean smelling sheets, and the sweet smelling pillow, I couldn't help that inner joy that sang Lord Ansauri's praises as I fell asleep.

Morning found Shedou neatly tucked under my chin, sleeping soundly on my chest. I started and then relaxed. I craved the closeness and there wasn't anyone to see us. His soft black hair tickled my nose as I stared at sunbeams dancing about the room and relished peace.

A knock on the door finally ended my self indulgence. I had a job. I was Shedou's servant. That made me nervous. I didn't know the first thing about being anyone's servant or dealing with a fortress full of polished men and women doing the same. I felt a smile on my lips, even though I felt cold at the thought, that I had ordered butchers and murders to get what I needed for Shedou, well bred servants couldn't possibly be more intimidating than that.

I shook at Shedou's shoulder. When he woke, he wasn't as blank as I expected. When I had thought that he had fallen asleep like a child, I didn't think I had been far off. His blue eyes were wide and expectant. I left him amid the blankets, pulled on my pants, and made my way to the door. Unbolting it, I felt as if I was unbarring a gate on the unknown and I felt a pang, more than a little wishing that I never had to open that door again. It was a relief to see that my visitor was not armed guards ready to drag me back to darkness, but a small maid servant balancing a tray of food and drink on one arm.

"Food for your lord," she said primly as if she didn't approve of me. A mousy, brown haired girl, she wore a floppy white dust hat, and was smelling like the kitchens.

"And for me?" I replied with a raised eyebrow.

She sniffed. "If he pleases."

I took the tray from her, but then she backed away. I was a stranger, after all, and I wondered if she must have been asked for more than food by some lords. Aside from sisters, I really hadn't been around many women. I wasn't one for whore's and running in the pack had never given me an opportunity for female companionship. As I looked at her now, though, she seemed dull coin against Shedou's handsome good looks. That thought startled me and made me blush uncomfortably. What was I thinking? Maybe I did need to make a try for the girl.

As if she had read my thoughts, the girl was suddenly hurrying away, duty done. I stared after her, trying to muster some interest, and was confused not to feel any.

Closing and bolting the door again, I settled the tray on a table and turned to Shedou. He had followed me, but was crouched on the floor just inside the door to the main room. He was watching me with wide eyes. Did he think that I had tried to leave him?

"It's all right. I was just getting food," I soothed. He calmed. I drew nearer and he came to meet me, standing and walking with difficulty. That concerned me. I checked his feet and legs and saw nothing. He acted as if he were off balance. I didn't like what I was thinking. If Faygen had harmed him permanently, if his mind was suffering from more than shock of his abuse, it was possible that I would be caring for a simpleton for the rest of Shedou's life.

"Come," I said, swallowing my distress, and gently led him to the table. I sat him down and served him salted fish, eggs, and a butter pastry. He kept looking at me, as if my face had become his world. I met that look and found myself sinking into his dark blue eyes. I shook myself at last and realized that he wasn't going to eat on his own. I carefully fed him small bites and he ate willingly enough. That done, I cleaned him, helped him relieve himself, and dressed him in good clothes.

We had nothing to do. After a few hours of sitting or pacing, I found myself at the window, staring out at freedom and the bright sun of the afternoon. No one had told me that we couldn't go out, only that I would die if I was found without Shedou. I had no doubt that every sword tip would be trained on me, though, as soon as I walked through our front door. Truth was, I wasn't ready to face anything else. Boredom was better than fear.

I finally broke away from the window and faced Shedou. He was curled up on the bed and looking relaxed, hair slightly curly and blue eyes drooping as if he were half asleep. With the sunlight playing over him, he moved me as the maid hadn't.

My hands went into fists. What was I thinking? I had never cared for anyone. I had spent my life pursuing my self interests and my wants. I had broken the law, joined murderers, and gladly sacrificed others to keep myself alive another day. Where was this feeling springing from? Was it only lust and a body that had finally been given enough safety and comfort to think about such things? Looking at Shedou, I knew that it wasn't that. I knew that I would no more take advantage of him in his state than I would have a real child. I felt no desire to have his body without a mind behind it, without Shedou's mind. And what would the young man say to me if he did manage to regain his senses? It wouldn't be words of love or even thanks, I was certain. I was one of the bandits, one of the men who had stolen his life from him.... or had we?

All of his family was dead. I had to believe that Shedou would have died too if chance had not put him into Faygen's hands. His hot blood would have put him in the thick of battle, fighting and dying by his father's side.

I sat on the bed and Shedou moved to curl against me, as happy as any lap cat. I tentatively reached down and stroked his dark hair. My hand trembled. The feelings within me strengthened until there wasn't any doubt where they took their source from.

I am a fool. My choices in life have led me to ruin and this would not be any different. A servant was allowed to love his master, but he was not allowed to fall in love with him.

I think it was trying to deny my feelings that made me reckless. Next day, I cleaned and dressed Shedou, gave him his meal, and then had him tag along behind me like any vacant puppy. He seemed strong enough, but I didn't overtax him. We stopped often and rested and I watched him carefully for weariness. His eyes stayed forever on me. I, on the other hand, had eyes only for the richly appointed fortress that was now my new home. I purposely pretended that Shedou was nothing more than my shadow, distancing myself and hoping that, once I found my feet, that my feelings would sort themselves out and dissipate like the foolishness they were. Besides, I thought, Shedou was a young man. I didn't love men... or so I thought until I saw a very handsome red head, in a green coat and black hose, cross our path in the garden.

The red head's blue eye swept over me with appreciation and they were far from naive. His station was servant and that was a far better place for me than falling for a lord's son. No one cared what the underlings did as long as the food was served and the wishes of the lords carried out.

The red head wooed me and, starved for affection of that sort for too long, I fell easily to his charms. He was my teacher and I was a willing pupil. He was ready and waiting for me each evening in the garden by the climbing roses and we quenched our thirst for each other in the soft grass while Shedou waited. I am not a good man, even now when I had so much to lose. My own pleasure has always been my foremost interest. I saw nothing wrong with sitting Shedou down on a stone bench near the waterfall he loved so much, and leaving him for my tryst. He never moved, never followed, and never complained, until one day, my companion of the evening decided that he wanted more than my evenings.

"Lore!" He had a simpering voice that hadn't annoyed me until then. "I've grown tired of waiting here." He clung to my arm despite my effort to shake him off. Looking down at him, he seemed suddenly ugly to me. "We should find rooms together near your lord," he begged."We should live together. Perhaps your lord needs two servants?"

I saw it then, his manipulation of me. He wanted to elevate his station. Instead of a hawk master's servant, he longed to be the servant of a lord. I was his stepping stone. I glared and said coolly, "Let me go. I've grown tired of you."

He snickered. "Grown tired of my lips on your cock? Grown tired of humping me in the ass in the rose bushes?" He turned and rubbed his backside against the front of my pants. He looked over his shoulder at me and licked his lips. He said other things. We argued. He pleaded. He cajoled. His hands tried to get into my pants. I wasn't in any danger of being seduced. I saw what game I had been playing and it had been as ugly as his own. I had used him to quiet my body, to distract me from Shedou's warm body curled up with mine every night. I had been hiding behind a lie and a willing body.

"Kirnan, leave," A harsh voice ordered the red head sharply.

The red head turned as if an arrow had shot him in the heart. I felt a chill as I looked past him and saw a group of guards with Shedou in their midst. He was looking down and his hair hid his expression. The captain of the guard had been the one to speak and he had his sword drawn.

"Kneel, Lore," the man ordered briskly. "I have orders to kill you."

My eyes went wide. Kirnan left as quickly as possible at those words, not giving me even a backward look. A man came to bind my hands behind my back and then he forced me to kneel when I was too frozen to comply.

"Shedou was found wandering the halls," The captain explained. "My orders are to slay you if you are found out of his company."

Wandering the halls? I swallowed hard. Why would Shedou suddenly decide to leave? What stray thought had entered his confused mind? It was then that I saw Shedou's blue eyes looking at me and there was pain there. It came to me suddenly, why that look should be there.

"When did you find him?" I asked in a choked voice.

The captain tested the edge of his blade. "Just moment's ago."

Moments... Long enough for him to have seen the red head pawing me and saying... those things to me. Was it madness to think that Shedou was jealous... or perhaps disgusted? No, that look was not disgust. It was pain wrapped in sorrow. I had blinded myself to my own feelings about Shedou and blinded myself to his feelings towards me.

"Shedou," I said to him. "I'm sorry. I'm a thief, a bandit, the mud on the bottom of your shoes. I am not for a lord's son. I ..." I faltered, swallowing hard, not wanting to say anything more with the men around me, but then I thought, what does it matter now? Shame can't follow a man into death and maybe some truth would take that pain from Shedou's eyes?

The captain approached, finding his grip on his blade.

"Shedou," I called desperately. "I thought it was best I was there, with him, but... I was wrong... I was wrong. I was a fool."

"Silence!" The captain ordered. "At least die like a man."

I bowed my head. I had said what I could. There was nothing left now, except a sorry end to my sorry life and the cold kiss of a blade on the back of my neck.

The blade cut the air as it rose above me. The captain found his balance.

"Stop." It was a small voice but it was heard over the expectant silence around me. I looked up, heart leaping, hoping for a reprieve, but didn't see anyone I could attribute the voice to.

Shedou stepped from among the men and they were unsure what to do as he approached me. He had spoken, I realized. He seemed confused, hesitant, as if he had just come out of a dream. He looked around us, looked at the captain with his blade, and then looked down at me.

He searched for my name. I could see it in his confusion.

"Lore, my lord," I offered in a whisper.

Mercy, for me? I had wondered during our dark days together, what Shedou would do if his wits and his freedom ever returned to him. It was clear to me that he suddenly had both. Revenge? Is that what he wanted? Did he want to personally bring that blade down on my throat? I didn't blame him.

"Stop," Shedou repeated to the captain and the man's sword lowered uncertainly.

Shedou couldn't go further than that. I could see him struggling. Why he would want to save my life, I couldn't guess. Why wouldn't he want me dead?

The captain regained some of his resolve.

"Take Lord Shedou to his room," The captain ordered one of his men. "Send a servant to him."

Shedou reached out and took hold of the front of my shirt very firmly. "He- Lore. Come." He tugged on my shirt, his order plain for even the captain to see.

The captain wasn't above Shedou's orders. He had to follow them. He didn't miss a chance to warn me, though, "Wander again, thief, and I will have you beheaded before even my Lord Shedou can save you."

I nodded my understanding and couldn't leave that place quickly enough with Shedou at my side. When we were free and on our way to our rooms, I hazarded a look at my lord. He was frowning as if thinking very hard.

"Forgive me," I said softly. "I am a fool."

Shedou's frown deepened as he said, "You were always there... always...It was all right when you were there."

I took away his pain and saw to his needs. That is what he meant. It seemed my loyalty to at least that had won me my life. He was paying a debt to me and nothing more. My heart was a painful weight in my chest, but it was still beating.

We entered our rooms and I threw the bolt home, locking the world away from us. He went into the bedroom and, when I followed, I found him laying there on the bed on his back, staring at the ceiling.

"My lord," I said formally. "If you wish me to go now-"

"They were going to... kill you...," Shedou was speaking with difficulty. "I was... angry... You were with that... Kirnan. I thought..." He rubbed at his forehead and sighed. "I felt like I was sleeping and dreaming a terrible dream, but then, I was warm and happy and... now I feel cold again."

Did he remember? Was this really Lord Shedou or just a more aware version of Ano? I couldn't understand what he was saying, why he didn't feel venomous hate, and rage. Why wasn't he ordering my removal from his presence? Why... there were too many whys. Shedou has asked some of his own and I had yet to answer him.

"I thought that was my place was with Kirnan," I said hesitantly, "but... it wasn't... he wasn't you... could never be you.... I..." I licked dry lips."I want to keep serving you, even if you hate me. I... maybe I can atone for my part in what happened before."

"Happened?" Shedou rubbed at his forehead again. "Everything's confused, dark. I was... kidnap ed... I remember a long journey... I remember you... then we came here and everything was all right again."

"You don't remember what happened... before?" I was incredulous and then relieved when he nodded. Whatever malady had befallen him had stolen some of the darkness from him. I wished it killed, dead, and buried, never to return. Shedou needed that forgetfulness.

"You were there," Shedou said. "You're here now. I was sad when you were with him, instead."

"Kirnan," I said and Shedou nodded.

"Never again," I promised and sat on the bed beside him. "I will be your loyal servant, Lord Shedou, from now until the end of my life."

His blue eyes found mine then and a small smile touched his lips. He was a handsome man, this lord of mine. "I think I should feel angry," he said, "Or hateful, but..." He reached out and touched my cheek and then he slipped his hand behind my neck and pulled me down beside him. He curled up beside me and I hesitantly held him."There are too many other people who deserve it more," he finished. He blinked. "Sleepy," he mumbled like a child.

I remembered when I had first seen Shedou, a boy trying to be a man, standing brave and defiant against his enemies. This young man in my arms, who was now breathing deeply in sleep, wasn't that man, I felt, but not in a terrible way. He had lost part of himself to the darkness, to the claws of evil, yet this man that was left might end up being more than that child of war could ever have become. He forgave and he saved thieves from their own foolishness. He also... loved.... loved me. He was a fallen star, but he didn't burn less brightly because of it. Let his light shine on my darkness, too, I thought, and let him forever be my lord.

The End

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