Heirot

Tenara shook her head slowly, but realized Havitharon might not be able to see her well in the dark. “No,” she replied, her voice hoarse. She coughed to clear it, rubbing the ache of her bruising neck. “Just…” The words fizzled on her tongue. “Are you?” She hadn’t seen Jim hit him with the hammer. She’d been… occupied. She reached for him, grasping to his arm like a lifeline.

Havi placed a his fingers to her bruised neck cautiously, as if uncertain of the familiar motion. "Just some ribs," he said. His fingers traced slowly across her face, feeling for signs of nosebleeds or other injuries. "You used a lot of power." It was a loaded statement, full of questions. "I was too lax. I should not have given them the chance to touch you."

Tenara took his hand, cupping it to her cheek. She could almost fall a sleep in the warmth of his palm. She had used a lot of magic. She felt it now in the quiet rocking of the boat. Her heart had stopped its panicked beating, and she felt the drain in the heaviness of her limbs. She wanted to sleep…

She also wanted to cry until the sun came up.

“It’s not your fault…” Her throat felt tight, and not from the injury. “I shouldn’t have let it get that far. I should have done something. Screamed… Fought. But I was so scared and by the time I snapped out of it...” She was on the verge of sobbing and she didn’t want to. This was so open, so exposed. Everyone could hear her emotions, even that fucking pirate.

He’d said his ribs were hurt… She reached forward, touching lightly at his side. “Did I hurt you?” She didn’t remember. It blurred together, nothing but shifting colors and emotions. She had wanted to burn and conquer and… make love.

—-

Laurius clutched the dagger to him while Merry finished binding the wound on his neck. In his mind, he was still trying to call the being back to him. But it was useless now. Even if they did call the body back, would he be in it? Or would he be drowned, dead flesh.

“Could you try?” Laurius asked Tenara. “Can you try to bring him back?”

It tore his heart open to hear her blame herself. The instinct to protect her surged up, outweighing the hesitation in his gut. He'd have to deal with that new emotion eventually, but for now, he focused. "You never hurt me," he assured. "Preshton knocked me out of the air with a steel hammer."

"Could you try?" Laurius's voice made him turn to face him. "Can you try to bring him back?"

Havi scowled a warning at him. She was in no condition to do something so strenuous, if she even could at all. "We talked about this," he growled at the man.

“I know, I know…” Laurius held up a hand. If there were light to see by, he would have appeared as defeated as he felt. “I wouldn’t ask otherwise… But we have to know. I have to know.” He looked at Tenara. “Please. Please try.”

Tenara hesitated. She glanced at the other shadows in their dingy. “I can try,” she replied. She touched Havi’s hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “If it works or doesn’t work, I’ll get a good nap either way.”

She was trying to make a joke but had a feeling it didn’t land.

Tenara reached out for Laurius’s dagger. He pressed it into her hands and went to pull away, but she held him to it.

“Together,” she said, and he didn’t know what she meant. But she squeezed his palm around the blade until it bit into him. What was a little more bloodshed in the scheme of things, he reckoned.

A dull, red light bloomed in her eyes. He felt her magic pour into him. It was… Unlike anything he could describe. It was, in some ways, like that awful pill Artisuren had give him. Sensations battered his senses, but they were not painful. They were the opposite of pain—so far from it he stifled a groan of pleasure.

He felt his body respond and hated that it did. This was not the time or place, but it was all against his will, and mercifully it was dark. No one would notice how ready his body was.

Her magic turned oppressive, and, terrifyingly, judging by the dulled light of her eyes, he suspected not as potent as it could be. He was torn between wanting to feel the full force of her will on him, and being afraid to know what he would do under it.

“Want him. Want him here,” Tenara said softly. And he did. He wanted Artisuren back. He wasn’t sure if it was to absolve his guilt or because he had grown fond of the strange creature in their short time together.

Who was he kidding. He knew the truth. He had grown fond of him.

“Come back,” he said one final time.

Tenara’s hand slipped without warning off the dagger and she sagged backward.

Havi jumped forward to catch Tenara's collapsing form. He pulled her back to his chest and settled with her onto the floor of the boat. Her weight made his ribs scold him angrily, but he only felt satisfied when she was reclined securely against him. "You did all you could," he whispered in her ear. "You're done now. Rest."

Very gradually, the blade in Laurius's fingers began to heat up.

Tenara rested back against Havi, letting the warm dark of sleep pull her under.

Laurius was about to chuck the dagger into sea. He was mad at it and himself and he didn’t want a present reminder of someone else’s suffering… But, it began to heat in his palm. Hope sang.

“It’s getting warm!” He looked at Tenara, and fumbled his hand out to cup her sleeping face gratefully. “It’s…” He looked around. Where was he? “Ren? Ren?! Ren, god damn it, if you don’t fucking answer me I’m going to call you Arti for the rest of your god damned life!”

Ren strained toward the confusing noise bombarding him. At first, he was just so grateful to hear or sense anything that he didn't care what it was. Anything was better than that icy darkness.

Then, the words began to have form. Their meaning slowly wrapped over him like morning sunlight. He tried to understand what he was feeling. He couldn't feel his arms or legs, or find the breath to speak. He was bodiless, yet he felt so sure that someone was holding him. It felt so secure, so right. Such a relief.

“Ren? Ren?!"

He could make it out now, the thing calling into his head. He tried to center himself, to recall what that voice meant to him. His face was the first thing he remembered, and then the other details funneled in. He was supposed to be drowning... He had drowned. Was this all just his brain playing tricks on him? He wanted it to keep going. He wanted to stay in this feeling, and hear that voice.

"Ren, god damn it, if you don’t fucking answer me I’m going to call you Arti for the rest of your god damned life!”

*Don't... you prick...* he barely answered, shaping the words somehow without any vocal chords.

Laurius laughed like a mad man at the sound of Artisuren’s voice rumbling in his head. His servants surely thought him mad. He could hear them quietly whispering his name, blaming the blood loss, but tiptoeing around the strange ritual he and the Hajaran princess had just committed on the blade.

“He’s here. Somehow. Somewhere.” Laurius turned his wild, weary eyes on Havitharon. “I hear him…”

*I don’t know how to make you whole and Tenara is… She has to rest.*

She’d sunk their ship, he thought. All that power. All that destruction… She was a doom singer and a life giver all in one.

Havi's eyes shot up to Laurius's. "If you can hear him, and I can't, then his soul must be back inside the dagger." Relief poured through him, along with dozens of questions. He'd been gravely injured, but never fully killed in this world. Did dying simply return you to the weapon? Or had Laurius and Tenara made the connection just in time? "I can't tell you how to bring him out... but I can say for sure it takes a lot of blood, and you're in no shape for it right now." He was already giving Laurius the same look he gave Tenara when he thought she might try something stupid.

Laurius tucked the blade back into the sheath against his heart. He pressed his hand over it. “I’ll wait… We know he’s safe. That’s all the matters.” Laurius couldn’t believe what he was hearing come out of his own mouth. It had to be blood loss.

He settled back against the wall of the boat and spoke quietly—silently—with Artisuren until he drifted off to sleep. It didn’t take much. The heaviness of bloodloss pulled his eyelids closed like weights.

The sea was dark, and relatively calm, so the boat drifted aimlessly out among other, distant boats.

Ren tried not to panic when Laurius's exhausted voice faded mid-sentence. As usual, he'd spent the few words he exchanged with Laurius bickering and talking about nonsense, not addressing what was important. How come he hadn't even asked about the man's wound? Was he asleep? Or unconscious? Surely the others had bandaged him by now, right? How long had he been in the darkness before they summoned him? A few moments, or had it been longer? Maybe they'd been adrift for days? He hadn't even managed to bring them food.

He hated the silence. He shouldn't wake him, right?

He stretched out his senses as far as he could, looking for anything to connect to, and discovered the slow, rhythmic thump of Laurius's heartbeat. He never imagined he'd be so comforted by such a small sound. Ren imagined them as they'd been on the floor of the room. He imagined Laurius inviting him to rest on his chest, his heartbeat vibrating against his cheek.

If he was stuck in this form, maybe he'd never get to do that again. If not, maybe he'd be permitted to stay with him this way, pressed against his heart. Maybe he'd learn to control the dagger, as Havitharon apparently had. Even a pawn, if it made itself useful, could earn its place on the board. *I can still be useful* he thought quietly, wishing he believed it. His consciousness shuddered around him like a sob. Don't be broken. No one will want you if you're broken, he seethed at himself.

He pressed his senses to Laurius's heartbeat and clung there until he lost focus, falling into some facsimile of sleep.

_______________

Havitharon stayed awake, holding Tenara in his arms and monitoring the rest of the boat. He kept a stern watch over the boat. The kitchen girls were asleep, huddled together near the stern. Lee seemed content for now to sit at the bow and keep his thoughts and hands to himself. Laurius was propped upright against the side of the boat to help keep his bleeding down. His color hadn't grown particularly worse over the last few hours, which was a good sign the damage had stopped.

He looked down at his Yurivis. Sure enough, his skin prickled with the sensation of every hair standing on end. Wariness. Apprehension. Even when he'd first met her, his reaction hadn't been this defensive. Well, of course not; at that time, he'd believed for sure that he would never Serve anyone. Now, he'd learned that the person he wanted to exist for was capable of completely erasing his sense of Self. He'd learned something he didn't want to know.

He didn't care if she sank ships, or reduced people to ash. He didn't mind if she wished to command him; he was proud to serve her. He'd come to wish to serve her because she embraced him as another person, not a possession.

Her red eyes burned in his memory, staring down at him, her hands and body paralyzing him. Not needing 'him'. Erasing him.

Had Stalker not intervened, what would have come next? How much of himself would be left afterward? He'd seen Ivie who'd been 'consumed' by Yurivie that were too much for them. They were like lifeless dolls, conscious of nothing but their master's will. His will had always been particularly strong, so he'd never entertained such a thing as a risk for himself. Now, it had almost happened.

Or maybe it was happening. How much of his current self was real, and how much was altered by his servitude? He thought about the book she'd read him. Did the Beauty love her captor because he was kind and freed her? Or did capturing her change her, so that the freedom he'd taken away suddenly felt like a generous kindness?

He kept her warm against his chest until the sun finally began to rise over the horizon. It was going to be a clear day, which was both a blessing and a curse. Exposure was a threat, but maybe when enough light came, they'd be able to spot some sort of land. He jerked his gaze to the side as something bumped the side of the boat. It appeared to be debris from the ship. Some kind of sack.

He reached over with one arm and untwisted the fabric, curious what was making it float. An orange bobbed out, floating playfully on the water. He raised the mouth of the sack and looked inside to see a ridiculous pile of oranges, all clamoring for the surface. "What the..." he muttered, scruffing the sack like it was a puppy and heaving it into the boat. The loud thump of oranges tumbling around the hull woke Tabetha and Merry, who scrambled upright. "Food!" Merry gasped.

Laurius jolted awake. The cry for food had been garbled in his ears, so he woke alert, and ready to fight—even if the hands he had fisted in the air, ready to battle, shook. He lowered his hands, half ashamed at the quivering but also because he noticed the threat seemed nothing more than a bag of fruit.

His gaze swept the boat, taking in Tabetha and Merry’s enthusiasm, Havi’s dutiful keeping of Tenara, and Lee. His gaze drifted back to Tenara. She and Havitharon both looked as if they’d stood in front of a gruesome explosion—if the explosion was a person. Both were splattered in red-brown stains. He was surprised she’d slept through his servant’s exclaiming.

Laurius recalled the dull light in her eyes, and compared it to the vividness of the night before. He wasn’t certain how much power she had or how much she’d used. He suspected a lot, since they were shipwrecked and adrift. He had… so many questions. None of which he could ask now, and certainly not in front of present company.

His gaze swept the sea and found boats dotting the horizon. They were all adrift… Aimless. If others found out food had somehow made it to them… They were still far enough out not to worry yet.

*Ren?* he asked, taking up the orange that had rolled into his knee. *Are you still there?*

Artisuren's thoughts had been everywhere and nowhere when Laurius's voice drew his focus back. He immediately noticed the man's jump in heartrate. *I'm here.* Desperate questions competed for priority in his head. *Are you well?*

*As well as someone can be after bleeding like a geyser…* he thought to Artisuren, eyeing the sea. Empty, endless ocean stretched on for miles. They were at least three or more days from shore—if they had a large enough vessel to traverse the sea. They might never see the shore again, at least not before dehydration, starvation, or exposure won out. *We’re drifting in the sea… Not much to share other than we’re likely all going to die.*

The frustration bubbled up, and questions he had thought to keep to himself rumbled out. “Did she have to sink the ship?” he asked Havitharon. “She couldn’t have put people to sleep or taken Preshton hostage?”