Fraul, 23

As they crossed the Areidan border, Fraul ached. Tere noticed it, more from the empty bag of willow bark than anything else. He saw the clenched jaw and when they stopped for lunch he went to find Raru, who was standing near Crowe.

Raru saluted. Tere asked, “How many days, Captain?”

“I think two,” said Raru, bent over a map. He saw the concern around Tere’s eyes and straightened up. Crowe saw it too. Tere knew that the general missed nothing, or he would have been surreptitious. But he figured–they all knew, didn’t they? So he said it.

“I think Fraul would benefit from your presence, Raru.” He had that healer’s tone, that authority that was above soldiers and generals. Doctor’s orders. Not even Crowe dared to speak. A tint of relief came plainly over Raru’s face. He saluted. Tere’s eyes brushed Crowe’s as he turned away for his company.

The rest of the men saw Fraul sitting with his hands on his legs, staring at a fixed point and breathing in, and out. Usually he didn’t sit down at lunch; today he did. He seemed fine, until Raru came slowly up to him and the tension leaked out of his shoulders. He breathed out and saw his pain reflected in Raru’s eyes.

“All right?” Raru crouched beside him on the balls of his feet, elbows on his knees.

“Fine,” Fraul breathed. “Just thinking.”

“We make camp today.” Raru’s eyes traveled the length of him, and there was no concern on his face but for a crease of his eyes. He said, “Can I get you some food, sir?”

“No. I may vomit.”

“Already?”

“For awhile.” Fraul sighed. “Help me up, Captain. I’m going to the river.”

“All right. Don’t be gone long.” Raru grabbed him by the forearm and lifted him, knowing which shoulder was his good one and which one Crowe had twisted up the weeks before. They had gone back to smothering their connection, the little jump of static that passed between them.

Fraul disappeared into the woods. Raru, thumbs hooked in his belt and gaze downward, wandered back to the map table.

Fraul put his legs in the warmth of the Rider’s Water and breathed out. He felt a fever coming on. Heath would be disappointed if he died out here, he thought. He hadn’t made it through all that just to die under some horse.

He let the water do what it could, and then he limped back to the companies and stood by silently until they were ready to go. He was retreating somewhere into his mind, the more he steeled himself to continue. In the last mile Tere practically held him up. He envied the healer man his body.

At last, at last, they made camp and Fraul cursed decorum and his last shreds of dignity. He wanted to lay down where he stood. Still, he reasoned, he would have to pitch a tent at some point. His body did it robotically, so many times had he unrolled this canvas. Then, without finding a cot, he went inside and collapsed.

Raru waited until midnight, when the last fire had been struck. He knew which tent was Fraul’s, for he had staked it out with his eyes the moment Fraul had disappeared inside. He crept into the flap and the other man was up immediately, hand on his sword. He smelled Raru before he saw him, and made no noise, setting his blade aside and receiving the warm body. He was expecting Raru’s hunger, thinking that even Crowe could smell it. But Raru demanded nothing from him, just held him and hushed him. Fraul shook hard and the fever radiated off him. They spoke no words, afraid of making a sound, and Raru could not afford to fall asleep. Fraul did immediately. Raru dozed off once, awoke in a terror, and then extricated himself as painlessly as he could from his former captain’s arms. He felt the danger and adrenaline of lying there, right under everyone’s nose, but he couldn’t help himself.

He went back to his own tent frustrated, just a captain awake after nightfall.

They awoke to hoofbeats long before dawn. Raru’s first thought was of Fraul, who slept with the braces on once they had reached enemy country. Raru threw the sheath of his sword away and lunged out of the tent, cutting at saddles and screaming at horses. Some of them got spooked and ran away; most were old war-horses, and stared him down with a huff. Raru’s eyes rolled wildly for Fraul, but a lance narrowly missed his head and he remembered to worry for himself.

He saw a sheath with a green sword knot on the grassy dirt. He glanced up and saw his old captain, looking gleeful, vicious, fallen on a man and crushing his throat barehanded. Raru cut someone down who was going for Fraul's back, and gave him a hand up. They stood shoulder to shoulder.

Then Fraul was gone, dove into the fray, and Raru followed him, watching him cut at the jugulars of horses. His eyes were cold and vacant, unfeeling, and Raru was relieved. His legs moved like they used to, though hindered by the braces. He blocked someone who had been unhorsed and said, “Raile, Raru!”

Raru glanced around, saw Erica pinned down by two of them, and he leapt over the bodies and whacked for the horse’s ankles. The stallion screamed and bolted, but not before it aimed a kick at Raru’s head, and he ducked narrowly as it set his ears ringing. The last horseman turned on him and Erica both, and she yelled loud and charged it. The rider was a woman, both faces carved in a snarl. The Areidan woman could do nothing but turn toward Erica, and this was the chance Raru needed to cut her down.

Blood flew off his sword. He felt his own garish grin. Was this how they survived? He remembered Erica as a child, crying for the dead of their enemies. Now she kicked people in the face who were already on their knees.

He looked over his shoulder. Fraul had tossed his sword away and was fighting with his hands, as he always did when the battle became harsh. He slit throats with a swipe of his rings and Raru had to steel himself from watching. Fraul elbowed a man away who had tried to put a blade to his throat from behind. His elbow came into contact with hard plate armor. Erica, who had turned away, spun back and said, “Watch out.” Fraul ducked away, feeling the knife slit his collarbone, and the man followed him and dodged Raile’s blade. She swore and tackled him, dropping her sword as well. Raru put a sword through his back, avoiding the woman’s limbs, and Raile snatched her blade and rose with it.

She glanced around, her braided hair whipping. She saw a thrashing current of people, most of them now unhorsed or turned and fled. She whooped and her company heard her, a young woman’s voice in a sea of men. Her voice was low and loud when she bellowed, “Forward!”

They all moved up at once. Tere’s and Raru’s companies followed. Fraul grabbed his sword up before it could be stepped on and then he wondered, how did I do that? His vision had shrunk to a single point and his thoughts came one by one as if from underwater. He followed the motions of the Ezurans around him and they fell on the last of the riders. Horseless, the Areidans ran.

Their eyes all went to Crowe, holding the back of the line. His hands were behind his back. He said, “Back to camp.” They cheered. Raru swam sideways through them, putting away his sword, and found Fraul’s sheath with the green knot on the ground. He went to his old captain, tall in their midst, and presented it to him with his eyes downward, hiding his smile. Fraul grinned and belted it on, sheathing his blade with a satisfying shunk. Raru turned away.

They walked back to camp, but Fraul stayed, counting the dead. Raru did not find him until that night, when the other man walked woodenly back to their rows of tents and ducked into his own. He passed Crowe on the way and murmured the body count. Crowe said, “Get yourself some rest.”

Fraul gave him a withering look. He was getting sick again. Heath would probably have told him he smelled. He ignored it, sitting at the fire. He didn’t see Raru anywhere.

“Erica,” he said by way of greeting as she sat beside him with a leg of rabbit. She glanced up halfway through tearing into the meat, blood all over her body. He smiled.

“Yes, sir?” she asked with her mouth full.

“I think Hill would be proud of you.”

Erica glanced down. Fraul went back to watching the fire. “Have you seen Captain Ire?” he asked, unable to help himself.

“Went off to the woods somewhere,” she said, chewing, and pointed with her bone. “That way.”

“Hm,” he sighed. “Good. Then he is around.”

“Maybe meditating.” Erica shrugged. Fraul closed his eyes and sat against the tree awhile, until the smell of meat nauseated him too much and he rose slowly, groaning. A few men looked over. Limping heavily, favoring his right side, he moved off for the trail in the direction Erica’s rabbit thigh had pointed.

It was nightfall by the time he reached a little clearing, and he smelled whiskey and blood. He stopped at the edge, squinting in the dark, and saw no one.

Then there was a shadow behind him, and Fraul would have struck out at it but for the whiskey smell. The other man yanked aside his clothes and thrust into him, covering his mouth when he cried out, lowering them both to hands and knees. Raru’s breathing came heavy and rain started around them, obscuring the grating of the stones. Fraul gasped when his back took the pressure and Raru hesitated, shivering in the rain.

“Not yet,” Fraul said, rolling himself over. Raru held him with one arm off the stones. Then he lowered Fraul slowly onto the ground, his teeth shining with his smile.

He bit into the other man’s shoulder to keep silent and pulled Fraul’s body hard to him, then found himself stricken with a wave of sadness. He tried to keep going but he wanted to cry, his mind drawn back to the story Fraul had told the night before. He stopped and felt a hand on the small of his back; he breathed in and swore. It wasn’t fair. He had wanted this, he had dreamt of it, it wasn’t fair, and he saw Fraul’s creased eyes as he backed off and pulled the other man upright. They sat a moment in silence, the rain obscuring Raru’s tears.

“That story,” he said, breath hitched. Fraul’s brow creased.

“I didn’t realize you were there,” he said, not bothering to fix his clothes. His eyes cleared. “I wanted to give you something.” He reached down for his sword and fumbled with the knot. His wrists burned. He closed his eyes and Raru wrapped his hand around Fraul’s fingers.

“No,” he said. “That’s yours.”

“It’s yours, era. It stopped being mine when you were promoted.” Fraul smiled. “Besides, you have no knot. It isn’t right.”

“I have no knot because my captain is alive.” Raru wiped his face and held his breath. He reached in his pocket and realized the flask was back at his tent. Fraul stopped for a moment and watched him, brow creased. He reached out and touched Raru’s face, murmuring, “What’s wrong, my love?” Raru’s shoulders shook and he started to curl into himself, but Fraul’s chest met his forehead and he sobbed, ducking his head, hand over his eyes. When he pulled away, the knot was in his pocket.