Fraul, 21

Fraul took to greeting visitors on his feet. Heath finished another brace: this one was smaller and fit beneath a pant leg. It even bent a little, if not enough to buckle. One day Fraul walked to camp–robotically, to be sure, as if his legs were made of wood. He felt like his body was more whale bone and metal than his own tissue. But he walked. He walked! He wanted to cry.

First he went to the springies. Erica taught them. She saw him coming and, for Tali’s sake, pretended not to notice. Many of the boys had grown their hair out and he had a hard time finding the brown hair of his daughter; but her olive skin was singular and Fraul walked to the edge of their group and watched her move through drills with her partner, the skinny black-haired boy. Twice Tali looked at him, but did not register who he was. He was so tall, he reflected. How had he gotten this tall? He thought with mirth that the rack must have put another two inches on him.

He leaned on the thicker brace and his knees hurt no more than they always did; the metal supported him well. Finally, as Erica called “Up!” Nathalie turned around to see who this stranger was that had been watching her.

Her jaw dropped. The boys ran back to their places, parting around her like a river. She took a step toward him and tripped on something; Fraul sucked in a breath and stepped forward to catch her under the arms. He nearly fell himself–pain shot up his legs and he grit his teeth. Sweat sprang up on his palms. Erica watched without watching, keeping the boys busy. Fraul wanted to kneel but couldn’t, not with his knees held straight. With a great inhale, he straightened his daughter and put a hand on her shoulder.

“All right?” he asked in their language. She had to crane her neck to see him. The smile crept through on her face.

“Da?” she breathed. She looked at his legs. “Are you…?”

He nodded to the left brace, bulky and evident. “Uncle Heath,” he whispered, winking. She said, “The chair?”

“I hope not to use it.” His hand dropped off her shoulder. “Shall I let you keep training?”

“Yes,” Tali murmured. She wanted to crawl up in his lap–she actually missed the chair. He was so tall, so apart from her. He looked like someone she had never met, like a soldier. “Will you train too, Dali?”

“Yes!” He beamed. “Yes, I will. That’s where I was headed after this, actually. I want to watch some sparring.”

“May I come with you?”

“Ah…bird, you are a soldier now. You must stay with the boys.”

“Oh, go on,” Erica called. “We were about to break for lunch.” She turned her head north and glanced at her shadow–it was a little early. But she waved her charge off and Tali beamed, taking her father’s hand while the boys streamed for the meal tent. Children running around camp was commonplace enough; many of the soldiers’ children stayed in camp to train and eat. Fraul walking hand-in-hand with his daughter was remarkable only for the fact that he was walking, and she was his daughter.

General Crowe strode up beside him and put a hand on his shoulder.

“So tall, Captain,” he murmured. Fraul laughed, open as the sun, feeling radiant.

“I had forgotten, hadn’t you?” he said, clasping the General’s hand. “Will you accompany us to the sparring ring, sir?”

“I think I will.” Crowe had a devilish look. “I want to test Heath’s work.”

Despite himself, Fraul backpedaled. “I hadn’t meant to spar, General,” he admitted.

“I want you back with us. I need men who can grapple, men who can take pain. I intend to test it.”

Fraul had never challenged Crowe’s willpower. He had always seen the man as soft-spoken, well-reserved. In the face of this willpower, and of his own quiet breathless hope, he had no resistance. He glanced down at his daughter to see if she followed, and she said quietly, in Ezuran, “Are you going to spar, Dali?”

“I suppose, dear,” he murmured back, and they shared a grin. The sparring ring came up too quick. A match was just finished. The general and the former captain put their elbows on the fence of the ring.

“Fraul Dreaux,” someone murmured, and Fraul turned his head. The murmurs quieted; dignity resurfaced, and they all acted like nothing had happened. Like this man who was walking had been walking since forever.

Leonard Tere was presiding over the sparring ring; he was more earnest than the others, and he said with glee, “Sir! You walk!”

“I do,” Fraul answered with a patient smile. “Thank you for noticing.”

“And General–will you spar?” The two men in the ring slowed. If their general wanted to spar, far be it from them to delay him. Crowe turned his chin toward Fraul, saying, “When the match allows.”

“Aye,” Tere said, and turned his gaze back to the men sparring. “Well? Beat the hell out of one another.” He winked to Nathalie, who had not yet met him personally. She gave him an uncertain smile.

Her smile faded. She tugged on Fraul’s linen pants. “Da,” she whispered in Ilcoceum’le, looking around at the men, afraid that perhaps they could understand. “I’m afraid for you.”

He lifted her up to see over the fence, holding her on his hip. “Don’t be, dear,” he whispered in her ear. “I am fine. And General Crowe is gentle.” Crowe heard his name and said low, “Is the little one ready to see this?”

“Depends how it ends, sir,” Fraul sighed, setting Tali down.

The other match ended in a scrabbling fight on the ground. Fraul’s jaw clenched. He wasn’t sure if he could do this. He reached in his soul for the anger and found none, only terror. His heart beat like a hummingbird when Tere closed the match. He realized he couldn’t get over the fence without bending at least one knee, and so he leaned against the wood slats and slid off the right brace. The left he still didn’t trust.

A hush fell over the men and his daughter. Fraul leaned the brace against the fence and his tawny eyes met the icy ones of Crowe, waiting silently in the middle. With a long, deep sigh Fraul put his hands on the fence and his right bare foot on the railing. Then, his right knee at ninety degrees and his left leg straight as a board, he swung the left leg over the railing and landed on it. He felt pain in places he never had–his right hip screamed at him and Fraul grit his teeth. But he landed without falling, and in his uneven gait he limped to Crowe. He was shaking his head and smiling.

“Be gentle on an old man,” he said to Crowe, who threw his head back and laughed, his white teeth flashing.

“Says the berserker,” he murmured. By this time Raru had heard of the match. But he had gone to Heath’s cabin, where the healer captain was muttering to himself and scrawling on the parchment of his book.

Tali’s eyes darted between her father and the general. She didn’t know him, but she vowed to herself that she would get between them if she had to. Everyone expected the match to be short, and though they didn’t want to watch, they couldn’t resist.

“Fair fight,” said Tere, as he always did. “All right, men.” He vaulted the fence with ease and put his hand between them. “Ready?” Both men met his eyes and then those of the other. Fraul remembered Ire, fucking a woman, and he felt anger at last. Crowe saw it start up in his face, smooth cheeks and hard eyes. Crowe’s smile was dangerous. The air seemed to crackle, and Tali could barely keep herself from speaking. She wanted to stop them.

Tere barked a hup and pulled his hand out from between them, getting out of the way. The men started to smile. Crowe began to circle and Fraul, conserving movement, blinked slowly and tracked him. The anger drained out of him and that cold vacancy settled in. His body seemed to feel that it was life-or-death. The old fear overtook him. He would not let himself be taken down, would not be at someone’s mercy.

He had never sparred with Crowe before, he reflected. As soon as this thought arrived, Crowe darted to him with a little testing strike, and Fraul caught it and started to twist it up. But the general yanked his hand away and elbowed, and Fraul turned his body and absorbed it with the brace. His lips twitched. Perhaps this brace would be useful after all.

Crowe frowned. He circled, moving closer. Fraul struck now with his fingertips and the general blocked it. Fraul struck again and opened himself up, and the general punched him solid in the ribs. His daughter squeaked. The pain sent echoes through his joints. He coughed and blocked the next strike with an open hand, slapping it away.

Now Crowe was open. Fraul wanted to kick him and couldn’t, and his hesitation allowed the other man to close his guard. He considered their situation. Crowe liked to be close-in, he was finding. Well, so did he.

He gave a few light little cuffs, opening the guard of the general here and there, remembering suddenly that he was being tested. Fraul’s legs were beginning to ache and the pain distracted him. His breathing hitched. Hearing the change in his inhale, Crowe went in hard with a flurry of punches and blew through his guard, hitting him in the diaphragm last. Fraul wheezed, reached down, caught the back of Crowe’s hand with his palm, and flipped the hand upward so that the fingers nearly touched the forearm. Crowe grunted and pushed into the grapple, knowing it was the only way out. Fraul’s wrist complained but in his adrenaline he didn’t notice; he held on.

They stood like that for a moment. Then Crowe grabbed the arm that held him and used it as leverage, sweeping Fraul’s legs out from under him with one heel. They both went down, since Fraul held onto the grapple and pulled the general down after him. The men whooped.

Fraul snarled in pain and his breath stopped. He was afraid to inhale, knowing what he would feel, and while the adrenaline still held him up he struck over and over, releasing Crowe’s hand so that he could get at his open belly. The general shielded himself with surprise, since Fraul’s strikes were merciless, and he backed off.

Fraul stayed on the ground when Crowe stood up. He seemed open, one leg bent and the other straight, laying on his back. Some of the men saw his smile. Crowe cocked his head and glanced at Tere, who said, “No one has tapped out.”

The general circled warily, knowing this was somehow a trick. But it seemed too easy. He went in with a kick and Fraul caught it in his hands and flipped the foot over so that the General had no choice but to go down on hands and knees, or else twist his leg. He yanked his knee back and felt a twinge, pushing to his feet and turning around. Sweat ran into his eyes. He had underestimated his opponent, who waited for him still.

The two men shared a smile.

“Having fun?” Crowe asked breathlessly.

“Quite,” said Fraul. “Although I think I’m stuck.”

The general laughed, and reached down to help him up. Fraul accepted the hand and they were both on their feet again. Crowe circled while Fraul pivoted, both sweating in the chilled air. As the dark-haired man punched, he felt the brace of whale bone beneath Fraul’s shirt. His brow creased, and in his moment of confusion Fraul snuck a hand over the back of his head and gripped his neck, spinning his head under his own arm and putting him on his back. But Fraul’s shoulder screamed agony at him and he could not use the advantage, struck breathless by its pain. He put a hand to the joint and backed off, breathing heavy. Crowe rolled back to his feet and showed no mercy, pressing his advantage, ready for the match to end. Fraul’s eyes filled with that cold fire and he seemed to forget the pain for the moment. He caught the general’s strikes and the more experienced soldiers felt the energy of the match become urgent. It was coming to an end, one way or another. They leaned their elbows on the railing and watched without expression.

Crowe’s eyes found every weakness with laser precision. He saw that the left knee was shielded by its brace, but the right was not. Of course, this was a fair, above-the-belt fight. But in their flurry of strikes and blocks, he aimed to take Fraul down with that leg and fall on him before he could get his bearings to grapple. Or, he considered, he could twist that shoulder. It might be kinder to the man, who would need his legs to walk later.

Crowe was close-in, having blocked a pinpoint strike to his neck. He smiled–that might have been deadly, in a battle. He liked this man. But not enough to let him win.

He grabbed Fraul’s wrist with one hand, and with the other he spun him. Tali winced for her father as his arm was bound behind his back. Black spots bloomed before his eyes and he could not push into this grapple; it was all he could do to stay conscious. He hit the ground on his knees and choked, “Out, I am out.” His breathing was jagged. Crowe released him immediately and he sucked in a huge breath, holding himself up with his fingertips on the grass. He swayed. Tali wanted to go to him; one of the men put a hand out to stop her. For a few moments Fraul stayed that way, breathing, until he regained his sight and pushed himself up with his good arm. His right knee almost gave out as he straightened to his feet. Crowe caught him and heaved him up.

He couldn’t help but smile. His first sparring match in years. He and the general faced each other again and clasped hands, inclining their heads.

“Good to have you back,” the general murmured. Fraul couldn’t speak, but he nodded. He felt nauseous.

Tere’s voice sealed the match and Crowe hopped the fence and walked away. The former captain went to the fence where he had leaned his brace and he stood before it for a few moments. The pain was coming to him with perfect clarity now, no adrenaline to buffer it. He put his right knee to the fence, swung his left over in one motion, hit the ground, took two steps, and sat down just outside the ring. Tali ran to him.

“Are you…are you…?” she began in Ezuran, and he murmured, “Hush, baby, it’s okay.” She seemed on the verge of tears. He smiled and she cuddled up to his side. It was a long time before he would be able to move; he was sure she needed to get back to the springies.

“You need to go back to Captain Raile,” he said, and she shook her head. He arranged her hair. “I’m fine, baby.”

“I want to stay.”

“I’m fine. I promise. I just…have to sit down for a second.” He slid the right brace back on. “I’m going to Heath’s. Yes? I’ll see you for dinner.”

She sighed. He looked her in the eyes. “You wanted to be here, didn’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” she said glumly. He mussed her hair.

“I love you very much. Go see Captain Raile, tell her you’re sorry for being late and take her consequences.” He doubted Erica would assign any.

She nodded, and he gave a little smile when she saluted him. He saluted back. Then she ran off across the grass, her long hair whispering against her back.

“Need help?” came a familiar voice. Fraul glanced at the old army boots and his eyes traveled the length of Raru’s frame, coming to rest on his blue-eyed face.

Fraul sighed. “Yes.”

Raru reached down and set him on his feet. A few of the men still waiting at the ring turned around at the noise, and saluted him quietly as he left. He touched his brow and, leaning heavily on the captain, limped to Heath’s house.

His jaw was clenched and sweat dripped from his brow. Raru sat him on the cot and he waved the younger man away.

“Sparring,” Heath spat from where he leaned over the fire. “I told you not to spar.”

“I didn’t intend to,” Fraul murmured, elbow on his bent knee and forehead in his palm. “I only wanted to watch. The general challenged me.”

“You could have said no,” Raru said.

“He said he wanted to see if I could rejoin the camp.” Fraul lifted his head, remembering. “Do you think he lied?”

“No,” said Heath. “I think he is desperate for soldiers and you’re not a bad catch.”

“Oh, hush,” said Fraul, smiling weakly. “It was fun.”

Heath shook his head and looked at Raru. “You can go, Captain,” he said.

“Just don’t fuck Raia,” Fraul called, and Raru made a face and slammed the door. As soon as he had gone, the older man groaned and lay back on the cot. His hands shook as he tried to unbuckle the braces, and finally he rolled over and said, “I’m going to vomit.”

Heath kicked the bucket towards him. He grabbed it and heaved into it with an unholy retch. With shaking hands, he put it back on the floor and tried to breathe. He felt suddenly cold. His vision would not focus. Heath saw him go very still.

A moment later he felt the cool glass of a sour-smelling vial at his lips. He drank it.

*

Raru was pacing come sunset. He wanted to talk to Ashin but he felt too guilty to speak to him. Would Ashin be hurt? He was furious with Fraul, absolutely furious. He needed someone to hear his thoughts.

He went to the den, and Raia was there. He backed away and went to find his friend, who turned out to be in his own home, laying in the blackness. Raru knocked.

“Who is it?” Ashin called in Bazairi. Raru said in the same language, with a different accent, “Nobody important.”

“Come in.” Ashin’s voice was expressionless. Raru edged his way inside and sat down on a chair in the little one-room house, across the room from his friend, who lay on the wide cot with an arm thrown over his eyes. Something bid Raru not to speak first. He waited, and finally Ashin said, “You and Raia.”

“Oh, Lord. Fraul’s on me for it too.”

“Were you drunk?”

“A little.” Raru sighed, wishing he had a flask now. “Do you want me to explain or just apologize?”

“Were you going to tell me?”

Raru hesitated. The guilt licked at him like fire. He murmured, “I feel guilty about it, I do. But I…she saw me in the river, and it just…happened. She would have rather it been you. I know it.”

“Why not fuck your own?”

Raru felt anger, finally. “Because it hurts him, Ashin. I hate it. It makes me feel like some kind of…” He didn’t have the words for this. “Like I’m some kind of…” He threw his hands up. “And now he’s sparring. Look, Raia started it. She told me you were…” Now Raru remembered the date. It was coming up again. “I’m sorry, era.” His voice came low. “I forgot.”

Ashin put the arm over his eyes again. His voice was muffled as he said, “I’m glad someone could get Raia what she wants. It’s not me.”

“She…” Raru muttered. “She was calling to you.”

Ashin lifted his arm and his black eyes glittered in the candlelight. “She was?”

Raru laughed to himself. It seemed ridiculous. “Not that I was thinking of her, either,” he said. Ashin sat up, swinging his feet to the ground, head bowed. Raru propped himself on one hand. “Brother,” he said. “Why stay in this dark room? It’s still light out.”

“I can’t,” Ashin sighed. “I shouldn’t be happy at a time like this. Who will remember her if I don’t?”

“Kira will.”

“What would Selene say, if she saw me with Raia?” Ashin rubbed his face. “If she saw me helping a man from Ilcoceum? What would she call me?”

“I didn’t know her,” Raru said. “But if it had been you to die, wouldn’t you want her to move on? To be happy? She would still remember you, I’m sure. Who wouldn’t?” Raru shifted, realizing he had spoken for too long, now uncomfortable. They sat in silence.

Ashin sighed. “I should not guilt you so. Why did you come to see me, truly?”

“I didn’t realize Selene’s death was coming up. I’m sorry. I was about to lay my problems on you.”

Ashin welcomed them. He drew his legs up on the mattress and faced his friend, reaching for a pipe and lighting it on a candle. Then he passed it over, smelling whiskey on Raru’s breath. He tried not to think of him with Raia. He supposed it was what he deserved for waiting so long. And she had called his name instead, unless his friend was lying. But Raru was like his brother, he reasoned–they had shared people before.

Ashin puffed out the smoke in a sigh. Raru was staring into the lamp, reflected in his eyes blue like a baby crow’s. Ashin passed him back the pipe. “So,” he said, and his voice was muffled by smoke. “You don’t want to have Dreaux because he is hurt. And you’re angry that he sparred.” He stopped in curiosity. “Who with?”

“General,” said Raru dully. Ashin whistled.

“He will hurt for it, I’m sure,” he said. Raru nodded.

“I couldn’t watch. Neither could Heath.”

“I’m sure it’s infuriating for Heath, too. Watching all his hard work go to waste.”

“That’s exactly why I’m angry.” Raru looked up. “Why? Why does he insist on this?”

“Well, think of it, Raru. He hasn’t gotten to fight since…” Ashin tallied back the time. “Ten years? Is that how long it’s been?” He huffed and drew a hand over his face. “We are old.” Raru sighed.

“I won’t try anything with Raia again,” he said. “Fraul is angry at me. I can tell. He pretends not to be.”

“No, you’re right–she is a woman, after all. If not me, she will find someone else.”

Raru smiled at the floor, feeling high. “How long has it been for you?” he asked.

Ashin rolled his eyes. “Raia and I did, once,” he said. “But I felt guilt.”

“Don’t torture yourself. Don’t be like Fraul.”

“Yes, he will hurt.” Ashin shifted an elbow to his knee. “Did he win?”

“No. I hear it was a good match.”

Ashin grunted and made to get up. “Well. Shall we go to the den?”

Raru smiled as his friend reached out a hand and heaved him off the bed.