The War Gift - part13

Heat and pain filled his entire being.  There was so much that its overflow lay atop his body like a blanket smothering him and blocking out the goodness of light while holding in the darkness and wretchedness from which Cailan wanted to escape.  He flailed his arms, trying to break away from it all, but the movement only intensified the pain and incited the heat into a burn that made him keen in suffering.

Hands caught his arms and pushed his shoulders with gentle force onto something soft underneath him.  Words that made no sense to him reached his ears, “Petling…hush…be still…right here…shh.”

He sensed the speaker meant him no harm, was even trying to help, but tears slipped from his closed eyes from the pain and terrible vulnerability.  Someone brushed them away, but more kept coming.

*****

There was still heat and pain the next time awareness came to Cailan, but both were just inside the realm of bearable.  His eyelids felt heavy, but he managed to blink them open and his gaze landed on his owner.  Jarek sat in a chair near the bed Cailan lay in, his head drooping toward the floor and his posture limp with fatigue and despondency. 

Cailan wanted to comfort him, but his body was heavy and his throat was dry, not allowing him to utter even a single word.  The best he could manage was to move his hand a few inches toward the other man.

Jarek’s head jerked up at the movement and his eyes widened in shock and filled with wetness that Cailan would have never thought to see.  He grasped Cailan’s hand and moved quickly to sit on the mattress, getting as close to the younger man as possible.

“Little love,” he murmured as he nuzzled Cailan’s hand with his lips.  “You’re awake.  Can you hear me?  Do you know who I am?  How do you feel?”

Cailan opened his mouth to answer, but no more than a scratchy rasp managed to make it past his lips.

One of Jarek’s hands reached for something and a moment later the coolness of ice brushed his lips.  He willingly opened his mouth to receive the refreshing cube, letting it melt against his tongue and drip down his throat.  When it was fully melted he managed a hoarse, “Thank you.”

Jarek’s fingers fell lightly onto his lips.  “Don’t speak, petling.  I shouldn’t have bombarded you with questions.”  He squeezed Cailan’s hand.  “Be still and don’t strain yourself.  Don’t even shake your head.  I’m just going to ask you a few questions.  Squeeze my hand once for yes and twice for no.  Understand?”

Cailan squeezed once and Jarek grinned.  “Good lad.  Do you know who I am?”

Cailan squeezed once and a beaming smile lit Jarek’s face.  “Thank goodness.  Are you in pain?”

He squeezed again and some of Jarek’s smile faded.  “I’m so sorry.  I’ll see if there is anything the healer can do to make you more comfortable.  Do you remember what happened?”

Cailan thought for a moment.  Part of him was certain he did know, but the knowledge eluded him.  Reluctantly he squeezed Jarek’s hand twice.  The man cupped his cheek gently.

“Don’t fret over it.  The healer warned us that the fever might damage some of your recent memories.”

“What…happened?” Cailan croaked out.

“Shh,” Jarek urged.  “I’ll tell you everything soon, but I need to have the healer come back in and check you over now that you’re awake.”  His eyes glistened with fresh wetness.  “You’ve been unconscious for three days, petling.  I’ve done nothing but pray that you would open your eyes.”

Cailan’s heart broke a little at the apprehension exuding from the man.  He squeezed Jarek’s fingers as hard as he could and his owner gripped him back.

“You’re going to be fine now,” the older man assured.  “It’s all going to be alright.”

*****

The healer’s examination of him was not pleasant.  It was painful and intrusive. Even if it was necessary.  Vague but distant memories of what caused the injuries the healer examined left Cailan confused and frightened.  When Jarek reached for his hand at one point, Cailan gripped it gratefully.  He was sweating from pain and exhaustion when the healer finally concluded the examination and placement of fresh bandages, as well as the injection of a sharp needle with medicine in it. 

When he was gently tucked back under the covers, all he really wanted to do was sleep, but he also needed to know the specifics of what had happened, and so tried to stay awake as the healer addressed Leader Jarek.

“I believe the worst is now past, sire.  The fever has broken and is only just above normal.  The medicine seems to have finally stopped the progression of the infection.  The wounds aren’t as red and the stitches are holding without swelling now.”

“Praises,” Jarek murmured gratefully.  “Thank you, healer Traven.”

The medical man nodded and then turned to speak to Cailan instead of Jarek.  “Bed rest and limited movement are what you need right now, young highness.  You lost a lot of blood, and you must be careful or your stitches will tear and cause infection again.”

“I understand,” Cailan said around a still scratchy throat, although truly there was a lot he didn’t understand.

The healer left and Cailan carefully angled his head to where Jarek sat and still held his hand.  “Please…tell me what happened.”

Jarek kissed his knuckles before speaking.  “You look ready to sleep, little love.  It can wait.  The medicine the healer gave you is going to make you even more tired soon.”

“No!” Cailan insisted.  “I need to know,” he pushed breathlessly, flinching as even raising his voice seemed to bring pain.

Jarek’s hand cupped his head and petted soothingly.  “Alright, petling, alright.  But you need to be still and calm as I tell you.  I’ll stop if you’re not.”

Cailan nodded.  “Please.”

“What is the last thing you remember?” Jarek asked.

Cailan had to think, but all his memories seemed such a blur.  “Running, but I don’t remember why, just that I had to get somewhere fast.”

“Yes,” Jarek agreed, his face tense.  “I’ve never seen anyone run so fast.  Berring’s Prince Killian interrupted a communication connection we had opened and made a threat.  We all—you, me, Alaric, and Sem—simultaneously realized the queen and my sister were in danger.”

Cailan gasped, his eyes wide and dilating as he remembered.  “Charon was there!  He had a knife over the queen!”

“Yes, and you saved her life, Cailan.  You attacked him before he could end her life, but he gave you several serious slashes as you tussled.  As you saw when the healer checked them, you have cuts on your torso, one on your right arm, and a seriously deep one on your right leg.  We couldn’t get the bleeding to stop ourselves, and with the royal healer unavailable, it took longer to get a secondary medic to you.  Ristoph, your palace’s sorcerer, came to our aid and used a very complex and exhausting spell to essentially freeze your body and stop the loss of blood until the healer could arrive and safely take over.  It took Ristoph a full day to recover from the effort he put forth, but he is okay.  Concern over you was greater because infection set into your wounds.  You were unconscious and extremely feverish for three days.”  Jarek’s eyes teared up again.  “I feared you would not wake up.”

“I did,” Cailan tried to comfort, weak as he was.

Jarek kissed his hand again. “Yes, you did.  Praises be.”

“What of everyone else?” Cailan asked as more memories came to him.

“Queen Kesla is fine.  No harm has come to her, but she is still being tended to and is unconscious from the potion distress.  But she has improved each day.  Princess Sana was completely unharmed.”

“What of the healer and potionist?” Cailan asked.  “They were on the floor. Were they…?”

“No,” Jarek assured.  “They were not killed, but both were badly drugged.  The drug had to be washed out, which is a physically difficult thing on the patient, but they both managed it.  They are recovering in the palace as well.”

“What will happen to Charon?  What of the Berring group that escaped?  What…?”

Jarek shook his head and petted down Cailan’s hair.  “All those people and situations are now under our control.  There is no more to fear, but it is a long story and too much to put on you now.  Sleep, my sweet prince—our hero—my gift.  You need it and have earned it.”

Cailan wanted to argue, but extreme fatigue was descending on him and Jarek’s gentle touch through his hair made it that much harder to fight.  All it took was one blink and that hint of rest sucked his body and mind under.

For the next day he woke sporadically, but only briefly.  Jarek was always there.  When another day had passed, he was finally able to stay awake for a couple hours at a time, although his discomfort was palpable.  He had pain and itching from his wounds, and the medicine the healer injected him with a few times a day made him nauseous.  Jarek fed him warm broths and puddings, which was about the limit of what his stomach was able to handle.

King Alaric, Prince Sem, and Princess Sana all visited him at some point.  Each fervently expressed their gratefulness for Cailan’s speed and bravery; particularly the king, who choked up when he passionately thanked Cailan for saving his wife’s life. 

Jarek told him after Alaric left that it was Charon who had been poisoning the queen almost since the marriage had taken place.  When Cailan had questioned why, he finally got to hear more details of the deception that the Berring people had done.  It had apparently been decades in its unfolding.

“The Berring kingdom has had an eye on overtaking Cylandrea for a long time,” Jarek told him.  “They have seen the value of our land and resources, but years ago they did not have the military power to challenge us.  They chose to start a process of the overthrow in two stages.  One was to build up their own military.  The other was to covertly insert some of their own people into the country to infiltrate the palace and keep Berring’s king informed of all the important happenings.  Charon was one of those who came, and so was Ricero.  Both, unfortunately, were highly successful in their infiltration,” Jarek admitted with frustration in his words.

Cailan reached out and squeezed his wrist.  “They are captured now,” he reassured.

“Yes,” Jarek agreed after taking a moment to compose himself.  “They were sent to us because they most closely resembled the look and build of a Cylandrean, and Alaric and I have inferred that the reason you couldn’t see any color or shimmer in their hair was because they are not blood-Cylandreans.  That is only a guess though, since you are the only one who is able to see a difference in any of us.

“Anyway, when Alaric married Kesla, Charon was given orders from Berring to drug the queen so if she became pregnant, she would not have the strength to birth the next heir to our country.  About the same time Prince Killian set his sights on claiming Sana for his own once they overtook us.  Part of their plan had to be revised when I brought you to the palace though.”

“Why?” Cailan wondered, not guessing why a new concubine would pose a threat.

“Because Charon was just as familiar with our prophecies as a blood born Cylandrean.  He knew what it could mean to have a silver-born come to us.”  Jarek hugged Cailan gently.  “The writings prophesied that you would bring rescue to our people…which you have done,” he said almost in awe.

Cailan shook his head and earned a mild look of warning. 

“Do not belittle what you have done for us, Cailan.  We will never be able to adequately express our gratitude.”

Cailan blushed, but didn’t argue. 

“You were also right in something else about your suspicions of Charon,” Jarek told him.  “The man has secretly studied magic use his entirely life, both when he grew up in Berring, and here in Cylandrea through the resources in our royal library.  He is more knowledgeable in such things than we ever suspected.”

“What is going to happen now?” Cailan asked.

“That is still being worked out,” Jarek admitted.  “Many crimes have been committed, but we do not wish to go to war again.  Alaric has enlisted the aid of alliances we’ve made with other countries, and he has been meeting with other royal houses to determine the wisest choice for all of us.  Truthfully, Berring poses a threat to them as well as us if they are allowed to continue as they have.”

He looked oddly sad as he explained that, and Cailan questioned it.  “You do not sound pleased to have the aid of others.”

“I am pleased,” Jarek assured.  “My father and Alaric have both striven to stay on friendly terms with those whom we have alliances and treaties.  I believe it is the wise thing to do.”

Cailan narrowed his eyes.  “You are holding something back.”

Jarek chuckled, although it didn’t seem to hold any humor.  “A lot of give and take must occur between countries at times like these.  I simply pray that the final results are to everyone’s best.”

It felt like another of his riddles, but Cailan simply didn’t have the energy to question it more or think through to what Jarek wasn’t saying.  However, on the fourth day after he awoke from the fever, he discovered exactly what the man had meant.

He woke that morning feeling the best he had thus far.  His level of pain was much more manageable that morning, and healer Traven showed him several mild exercises he could do in bed.  Cailan pressed to know when he might be able to get up and move about, but had been told quickly that it was not something to be rushed.

“Your wounds are too fresh and the skin of them too delicate to withstand much movement, highness,” Traven had said.  “They must knit more fully and the skin needs to grow in toughness before you can move about as you did.  If you extend yourself too much, you could tear, and that would be even worse than the initial cuts.”

Cailan hadn’t liked hearing that, but he had no desire to injure himself further and prolong his convalescence. 

After the healer left, it was just him and Jarek, but his owner looked tense and on edge.

“Master?  Are you alright?” he asked.

Jarek faced him, the skin on his face almost looking tight with stress.  “It…is not a good day for me, petling.  I have something to tell you, but I must wait for some others to arrive.”

Cailan was confused.  “Who is coming?  Why is it a bad day?”

“Petling….”

He was interrupted by the soft gong sound Cailan had learned to associate with the arrival of a member of the royal family.  Moments after it went off, King Alaric entered the room followed by both Prince Sem and Princess Sana, whose arm was wrapped and held securely within a sling.  Just behind them, Sorcerer Ristoph entered the room as well.  Everyone looked sober, and Cailan’ stomach twisted with nerves.  He looked immediately to Jarek. 

“What is going on?”

At first no one answered, but then the king moved to speak, only Jarek shook his head at his older brother and sat at Cailan’s side, facing the young man.

“My love,” he said hoarsely.  He cleared his throat and tried again.  “Do you remember when I told you we had contacted your father about learning of the hair changing spell and he sent Sorcerer Ristoph to us?”

It took a moment to recall those events, but Cailan nodded as he remembered the falseness of noble Comley’s hair and the need to prove it.

“Well, your father was willing to help, but with one stipulation.”

That actually didn’t surprise Cailan.  His father would never renege on a signed alliance, but if he thought there was an opportunity for good for his people, he would not fail in working to get it.

“What was the stipulation?” Cailan questioned.

Jarek’s fingers seemed to tremble the slightest bit as he reached to grasp Cailan’s hands.  “Petling, his stipulation was that we return his son to him.”

Cailan froze.  He couldn’t even blink as Jarek’s words sank into him, and all he could do was listen as the man continued to speak.

“Your family has been generous in allowing you to stay here with us while you’ve recovered, but you’ve reached a point where Sorcerer Ristoph can safely take you through a portal and return you to Arten.  Your belongings have already been transferred.  We are here to say our good-byes before Ristoph returns you to your family.”

Cailan felt his eyes burn, and it was such a mix of disappointment and happiness that his family still wanted him that he didn’t know how to process it.

Jarek squeezed his hands and then took a step back to allow the others to approach.  Sem came first looking disappointed by sympathetic.  He dropped a brotherly hand on Cailan’s shoulder and looked the younger prince in the eyes. 

“Thank you, Prince Cailan.  You’ve been a gift to all of us, and you are welcome in our home anytime.”

He patted Cailan’s shoulder and stepped away so Princess Sana could approach.  She gingerly leaned down and gave Cailan a one-armed hug.  “You are a good man, young prince.  Thank you.”

When she stepped away, King Alaric advanced on him slowly, and then stunned Cailan when the man leaned down and pressed a kiss on Cailan’s brow.  “I will always be grateful to you, Prince Cailan.  If you ever need anything of my family or my country, it is yours.  I thank your father for honoring the ancient treaty, but I thank and bless you even more for your heart that has put the best of others above yourself every day I’ve known you.”

When he drew away from the bed, he motioned to the room’s occupants.  “Let us step outside for a few minutes.  Jarek and Cailan have a right to say good-bye privately.”

Everyone, even Ristoph, left willingly, and Cailan felt his tears spill over as he looked to the man who was no longer his master.

“Oh petling,” Jarek murmured brokenly.

“Jarek,” he said around the knot in his throat.  “I…don’t know what to do.”

Jarek sat on the bed and pulled the smaller man into his arms.  “It is not in our hands, little love.  You must obey just as I must.”  He lifted Cailan’s right hand and kissed the ring that he had gifted to him.  “Remember that you have a home here just as you do in Arten.  The royal houses of both kingdoms have extended open invitations to each other to come and go as they please.”

“But I’ll never…be…with you again,” Cailan rasped out, suddenly realizing that he desperately wanted to share that intimacy with Jarek, an intimacy that they had never fully consummated.

“No, my love.  It is not likely you will, but I will forever be your friend, your comrade, and someone who will always love you.”  He wiped at Cailan’s tears, and then removed the red collar from Cailan’s neck.  The young prince felt surprisingly bare without it.  “Think of the joys that await you, petling.  Your parents, your brothers…little Doron.  I know you’ve missed him.”

Cailan nodded, but he couldn’t speak anymore.  Jarek leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips.  It started gentle but grew desperate as both men tried to imprint the other on themselves.

“It’s time for you to go, my prince.  Your father has promised to keep us updated on your well-being.”  He kissed Cailan’s hand, just above the ring.  “I love you.”

He stood quickly then and allowed Ristoph and the others entrance back into the room.  Sooner than Cailan was ready for, Sorcerer Ristoph created a large portal.  With Jarek’s help, Cailan was lifted carefully into his fellow Artenian’s arms and carried through, his eyes never looking away from Jarek’s as he was taken away.