A/N: This particular story is an epilogue to The Seven Brothers Trilogy by Curt Benjamin. Awesome books!
“Justice’s Return”
Llesho was Justice, one of the seven mortal gods. He overcame the injustice rendered upon him by the Harn and Master Markko. He fought against the demon-king and had rendered justice upon those who besieged the gates of heaven and wished to plunge the mortal world into chaos and hellfire. He had balanced, partly thanks to Balar, the world, but he hadn’t been just to himself or those most important to him—his brothers, sister, or his goddess wife.
Sitting in
tradition Thebin style, his feet ducked into his knees, Llesho felt the warmth
of the Great Sun seeping through his cold and lost body. He closed his eyes and
listened to the rushing flow of the fountains and waterfalls of the
He sighed gradually, letting the air roll over his moisten lips. He fiddled with the piece of paper in his hand before slipping it onto the offering with a coin to keep the paper from blowing away. Then, he prepared to wait. After all, he hadn’t seen ChiChu since the battle at the gates of heaven, and he didn’t expect ChiChu to show up now, over ten thousand li away, to simply answer a question that he should already know the solution.
So he sat.
And sat.
And then sat some more.
Finally exhaling bitterly, he dropped his sinking head into his hands, his elbows upon the knees, fists in his long hair. He shook his head. His world was falling apart, and he didn’t know how to put it together, how he could put it together. He hurt his brothers, left his kingdom, and spent winter remembering everything—his past, his present, his future. The Prince of Dreams, he did what his title demanded, and he found what he needed, what his heart longed for.
Yet, he had told his brothers the opposite. They were no longer a part of him like they used to be, and his guardians—Kaydu, Bexei, Stipes, Lling, and Hmishi—they were his home. He was wrong. Where the Great Goddess was, was his home, yet he wasn’t complete.
And his guardians weren’t the missing component.
His brothers were.
He shook his head, moaning slightly. His place wasn’t in heaven now. It was for a while, living with the Great Goddess, but now, he had the mortal world to tend to, most of all his brothers. But if he went back—he wouldn’t be able to stay in Thebin forever. He would have to leave again and once more hurt his brothers. He couldn’t do that. They were family, and more importantly—his family. He couldn’t bear it.
And if he did return, he would have to tell them the truth of their part in the prophecy.
But…
But…
“You know the answer,” Master Den’s gentle voice called from behind. “And you have the nerve to call me still?”
Llesho smirked slightly as Master Den took a seat next to him, the former launderer still one of the people—gods—he trusted the most, despite being a trickster. “I made a mistake,” Llesho began, then rolled his eyes at the look Master Den gave him. “Okay, I made another mistake in a long line of mistakes, but I don’t know what to do.”
“You know exactly what to do.”
“But I have a mission. I’m a god,” Llesho retorted, as if Master Den didn’t know. Yet, even before Master Markko saw the powers within him, it was Master Den who knew he was a god. Still, Master Den just looked at him, the trickster’s gleam in his eyes. “I won’t be able to stay. I’ll just hurt them all over again. They lost me three times—and so many more…” he muttered, his head bowed in shame, tears slowly spilling over the dam he had carefully constructed. He realized as Master Den pulled him close again and he buried his face in the older god’s shoulder, he never had a dam or shield. He cried before in front of the god, yelling how the gods had demanded too much from him. He didn’t know he was one of the ones demanding.
He held the fellow god, clinging to him as if ChiChu was Shokar, his eldest brother and whom he sought comfort from the most. Even though Shokar had not been blessed by a goddess wife and was a simple farmer, he had always been there for Llesho, even during the battle at Shan, when they had just been reunited. Shokar had taken up arms, not having fought in years, and stayed with him when he was wounded. It drove Llesho crazy at that time, his brother’s nagging, admonishing him for his crazy actions and yelling at Adar to check his whole body for more wounds. But now, he wished for it more than anything. He was still just a boy, barely eighteen, and he wanted nothing more than his big brother’s embrace.
Okay, four times. He had hurt Shokar, particularly, four times. When Shokar had rejoined him after training the Thebins, he remembered with another cringe and a surge of fresh tears how he asked Shokar not to call him “Little Brother.” He was trying to be a king at the time, but now…he didn’t care. He just wanted Shokar to be holding him, not his teacher.
The trickster god smoothed down his hair as he continued to cry, and Llesho’s thoughts flashed to Adar, his healer brother. When Llesho was just seven summers and hurt, Adar had brought him into his clinic and stayed by his bed, despite others needing him. He left those to his pupils and sat next to him, slowly soothing back his long hair, lightly brushing his lithe fingers against Llesho’s forehead and murmuring healing hymns.
The rest of his brothers urged themselves into his mind. Balar, his youngest older brother, caused him to cling tighter to the god. Balar had demanded his baby brother back, and Llesho told him callously, “That child is dead.” Now, he wanted to amend that. He had changed, become more mature, but still the same person he was years ago. Menar wrote a song for him in mourning, crying no longer after his masters had burned his eyes out to stop the endless tears for his brothers. Ghrisz was his second eldest brother, and the one whom he was least close. By the time of Llesho’s birth, Ghrisz was already an ambassador for their king father and had spent precious little time in the Palace of the Sun. Though they didn’t know each other very well and hadn’t been reunited long, Ghrisz had embraced him after his interrogation as if nothing happened, and nine summers of separation were lost. Even Lluka, who had prophesized doom and fought Llesho on every whim, he missed. Of course, Lluka had been driven mad by the demon-king, and if not for Lluka, Llesho would have lost and died at the gates of heaven, never meeting his beloved goddess wife. And Lluka was free now, and Llesho knew his brother missed him just as much as he missed Lluka.
But he would leave again, and there was no way he would put his brothers through that, even if it meant he would never see them again—especially since it was his fault they would feel that pain.
“Why do you constantly underestimate your powers?” Master Den demanded, anger entering his tone. He pushed the boy to arm’s length, startling the crying young god to sniffles. “What makes you think you will never see your brothers again?”
Llesho wasn’t surprised that Master Den had read his mind. Even though he didn’t know the trickster god had the power to connect mind-to-mind, Master Den always seemed to know what he thinking. Only, usually the god wasn’t so blunt in his lessons. Usually Llesho had to jump through hoops to find the answers to the riddles, but this time, it seemed the god took pity on him.
Llesho wiped the tears from his eyes, but he didn’t duck his head in embarrassment. Master Den had been his teacher long enough to see him through more embarrassing situations than he’d like to remember. “But I won’t,” Llesho spouted, his shoulders heaving in demoralization. “I’ll have to leave Thebin again and my brothers and how can I—?
“Why?” Master Den prompted simply.
Llesho blinked. What?
“Why must you leave your brothers?” Master Den asked again. He shrugged noncommittally and looked at the paper finally. “Yes, eventually you will leave Thebin for the duty that Justice requires, but have you forgotten your brothers?”
That hurt. “Of course I haven’t forgotten them.”
“Then why have you forgotten that Shokar stole your food to taste it first and make sure it wasn’t poisoned, even in front of royalty? Or that Balar kidnapped you to save you from the Harn raiders?”
“To balance heaven and earth,” Llesho objected, making a face. He didn’t forget one of the high points of his life: tied to the flanks of a camel while unconscious.
Master Den slapped Llesho up the back of his head. “Then you weren’t listening, boy. He told you why. The Dihna was afraid you wouldn’t survive the torture Hmishi took on your behalf, especially after the Long March.”
Like always when the Long March was mentioned, Llesho trembled unconsciously.
Master Den noticed and placed a hand on Llesho’s shoulder to steady the boy. “He took you to insure your safety, and he would have left the world unbalanced if it meant your life.”
Somehow, Llesho knew that already.
“You have six brothers, Llesho; you will never be alone,” Master Den continued relentlessly, standing and patting the boy on the head. Taking the paper and flipping the coin back to Justice, Master Den smiled like the trickster he was, and once more, Llesho wondered why he ever trusted this god. “And you are the prince of dreams. If your travels ever stole you away from them, your powers would bring you back.” His grin forged warmer, his lips parting as he bowed. “Before you can make the world just, you must be just to yourself.” His grin widened, and he motioned toward the coin. “Though your well-deserved rest has been cut lifetimes short, you have neglected your shrine and those who call to you. Now.”
Llesho felt compelled to remind his teacher he didn’t have a shrine, only having discovered that he was a god within in the last year, after living countless lives unknowing, but Master Den’s voice changed. The prince of Thebin dreaded what his teacher would say next. Lesson over. Time to go back to the real world—out of dreams.
“It’s time to wake up,” ChiChu commanded.
Llesho slumped on the bench. “I know…I know…but then…”
He would have to face his brothers. He wanted to. He wanted to see them with all his heart, but what if they didn’t accept him? What if they had moved on without him, had a cadre of their own, and he no longer belonged in their family?
Or worse…hadn’t they, and they knew the truth of what he did to their souls?
“Llesho?” ChiChu prompted.
Llesho focused on the bench and his crossed legs.
ChiChu grabbed the boy’s chin and raised his head manually. Master Den wore a mock-frown, but his words were deadly serious. “Wake up now. I have things to do, and I want to make sure you get out of the dream world in tact.”
“Is that something you worry about often?” Llesho retorted. By the look on ChiChu’s face, he knew Master Den had. After all, Llesho had been hunted by a man with a boy-dragon in his body and who had awakened a demon-king, and…and…
Llesho waved absently and shook his head, bringing his antlers into reality.
*^*^*
Llesho awoke with a jolt and instantly moaned. He winced at the metal bars molding the side of his face and his body smooshed between them. Pushing off, he looked up and down the silver gate, shimmering in the light of the Great Moon Lun.
The gates of heaven.
They had never opened to him, despite stopping the siege upon them, and he remembered now, through his tired muscles and screaming, abused tissues, that he had fallen asleep again the gates and dream walked to the Great Goddess. Now, it was time to return to the mortal world.
He huffed as he struggled to stand, whining lowly as he lugged himself to his feet with help from the gates. He leaned his forehead against the gates and whispered through the soothing Kungol air, “I love you, Beloved Goddess. Until we meet again…”
In his dreams, another night, any night.
Taking in a deep, cleansing breath, Llesho gathered his bearings from his clouded and exhausted mind. He shook the antlers from sight and stared down at his clothes—the usual attire of a Thebin prince accented with a sleeveless coat and his sword at his side and his deadly knife, which he was trained only to kill when using. Only he and Balar had been able to break that reaction, and he only by the grace of Master Jaks and ChiChu. Now, he simply could maim someone with it.
He sighed, pulling his knife from his belt. He had climbed up the rocky and snowy surface of the six mountains, and now…all he had to do was climb down and walk the rigorous li to Kungol. Since recognizing himself a god, however, Llesho discovered how to pull energy from his surroundings, but even that would take energy. He might as well stop procrastinating and start down. He could dream walk, but he had done enough of that the last six months.
Taking one last look at the gate, Llesho turned—and the blood warmed instantly in his mortal-god body. His initial shock wore off into boyish delight.
“Adar! What are you doing here?” His light voice didn’t accuse, though the words were mistaken.
Adar’s face fell, his own fond smile falling to a frown. “I am truly sorry, Llesho. You know I would not do this normally; however, I do not see any other recourse. I just pray that the Great Goddess and you will forgive me for betraying the healer’s oath, and I promise I will tend to you immediately after.”
Llesho cocked his head to the side, studying his brother’s apparent guilt. “Adar, I don’t understand. What are you—?”
As the hair on the back of his neck stood on end, he turned—and the world darkened into blackness.
*^*^*
Hmishi jumped at the sudden closeness of Llesho, and by the same token, Llesho did the same. The prince of Thebin hadn’t expected to appear right next to his friend, but it wasn’t unwanted. He really would need to make a concerted effort to dream walk by his own accord, not instinct.
“Prince Llesho! What are you—How are you—?”
Lling pushed herself from the bed and flung herself into her former charge’s arms, holding him as if he were long lost friend, which he was. “You’ve come back to the mortal world!”
Llesho blushed at the awe in her words and the implication that he wasn’t mortal. He was one of the seven mortal gods. “Yes.” Llesho released the girl warrior and scratched the back of his head. “I—I don’t know how I got here—I mean, yes. I’m dream walking, but…” He felt the heat rise in his cheeks again at his own lack of understanding of his powers. “Were you thinking about me or…talking or something?”
“Or something,” Stipes teased from behind, catching the boy prince off guard. He whirled at the teasing, an instant and instinctive smile on his face, and smirked at the annoyed look of Stipes’s lovers face. Bexei’s angered mug implicated his revulsions, though Stipes smiled at his lover and patted Bexei on the shoulder.
“Sorry.” Llesho continued to smile but apologized with a dip in his shoulder. “I’m married now, and I don’t think the Great Goddess would appreciate me dismounting my horse on the other side.”
“Is that a way to say you’re no longer innocent?” Bexei asked pointedly, though the heat of anger still flushed his face.
It was
Llesho’s turn to blush again, and it seemed sometimes he lived with a red tint.
He remembered how Lluka had described Master Markko’s need for him at the gates
of heaven as a sacrifice. “A peasant will do with a simple request. A prince is
better. A prince who is dedicated to the goddess may move heaven itself.
Resisting will do; willing is better. Young is better still, and innocent—” In front of the
“Where’s
Kaydu?” he asked, looking about the room. He looked about the place for some
inkling as to where he was, but all he saw were a street outside the window,
and the room decorated in traditional
“She went back to Habiba to finish her training of dragon’s blood,” Lling replied, standing and strapping on her belt with her sheathe. “You’re in trouble, aren’t you?”
“Why does everyone always think that?” Llesho objected indignantly. “I am a god. I can take care of myself.”
“Since when?” Bexei asked to his dismay, but Lling continued her thought process over their teasing.
“Llesho, you’re
supposed to be in heaven with your wife. If you’re here…” her voice trailed on
with a raised eyebrow, relaying exasperatingly, I’m right, and we have to save your ass again…not that I’m complaining.
Llesho collapsed to the arm of the couch, his head hanging. “I left heaven to be with my brothers…” He grinned back at the growing smiles on his friends’ faces, but it quickly tumbled into a frown. “But I saw Adar, and he apologized to me. Then, I was hit over the head. I think someone attacked us.”
Stipes had finally broken his self-conscious attitude of not having been an original member of the cadre and spoke without reservation. “Couldn’t Their Holinesses have kidnapped you again?”
Llesho swiped his foreahead and shook his head. “No, they wouldn’t do that …” He paused, blinked, and growled. “Again?”
“Well,
we’re going to have to make sure.” Hmishi followed his lover’s example, and he
strapped on his blade. “We’re outside of the
Well, she was the captain of their cadre, and not to mention, now that he was a god, he didn’t think he would need saving. On second thought, Llesho realized he was always god; he just didn’t know it. He guessed he would always need saving.
Llesho opened his mouth to retort, only for a crushing pain to swelter down upon his head. He squeezed his eyes shut and placed his hands to his temples, hoping to levitate the pain. Instead, he woke up to it.
*^*^*
Llesho’s head felt like a volcano had erupted, and the lava collected in his skull and refused to drip out his ears. His head jumbled up and down, and with every bounce, the volcano spilled over more and more. He wished Dognut, Mercy, would have taken pity on him at that moment, but Dognut probably had better things to do than take away his headache. After all, Mercy had given him back Hmishi. How much could he ask?
The volcano
finally found an outlet, dripping down his throat. The sensation reached his
stomach and caused an uproar there. Like always on the ships of
At that moment, while the world still rumbled off axis—and yes, Llesho blamed Balar with a supreme embitterment—the god of justice realized the pain in his wrists in front of him, while his ankles, too, ached with a dull pain since he had long lost feeling. He decided to breathe through his mouth, the stench, too, too much a bad memory. The camel was bad; Llesho didn’t need to know being strapped to the horse was worse.
When he finally suppressed the eruption from his mouth, Llesho ventured to open one pain filled eye half-way to a slit and regretted the action immediately. He closed it with a shiver, the coldness of nausea washing over him, but that wasn’t the worst of it. To the left and directly in front of his face were a saddle and a butt. Even worse, he knew that ass.
Not again.
Balar.
Hmishi was right.
Damn.
He must be the only person in the world to get kidnapped by his brothers—not once but twice. He opened his mouth to shout words his youngest older brother would be shocked his baby brother knew, only for a gurgling and a groan to sound. The horse he despised—Okay, that wasn’t just—the horse his despised brother rode slowed to a halt with a quick, worried yell, “He’s awake!”
Groaning again at the sharp nail that was driven into his forehead, courtesy of his brother’s shout, Llesho wanted nothing more than to retort to his brother, “Wow, you’re bright. You remember my name?” However, all his concentration went to keeping his lunch down.
Fingers, comforting and warm, touched his clammy forehead, wiping the cold sweat from his face. Urging him to open his tired eyes, Llesho was eased by the sight of Adar, allied with his soft, wise smile. His third oldest brother held his head in his hands, probing lightly about his forehead and then down his temples to his cheeks with his thumb pads. The touch soothed his nerves, but his stomach still swarmed with mischief.
“Llesho?”
Obviously Adar knew his name.
“Can you hear me?”
Llesho closed his eyes as he shivered from the force to contain his food, and he lost his first war. Balar, turned half-way in his saddle, rubbed his little brother’s back soothingly, while another hand ran through his hair. Not Adar’s, since that particular brother held his head to make sure he didn’t choke on his own entremets, despite being splattered with vomit. A loving murmur heard over his shoulder, “It’s okay, little brother,” from Ghrisz. There was no surprise that Menar, his blind-poet brother, wasn’t present, and he was pretty sure Lluka wouldn’t venture up here after almost being torn in half by the demon-king. That left only Shokar for a full set.
When Llesho finished, Adar sent him a sympathetic smile, more of a brother than a healer, and wiped Llesho’s mouth with his sleeve. “He can’t ride like this,” the healer brother insisted. “While this could be because of the hit—” A particularly deadly stare at Balar. “—he can’t continue.”
“Hey, I had no choice,” Balar defended, still absently rubbing Llesho’s back. “He’s a god, so I thought he might have a thick skull. Not to mention that the last time I took him, he woke up after a few hours. I wanted to make sure we were in Thebin before he regained motor functions.”
Well, so far, Balar had his wish.
“I don’t care. He’s sick, and we have to sit him up. I can make him a potion, but it would take time. It’ll be faster just to get him home.”
Home. Kungol. The thought sent a pierce of longing through the young prince, and he relaxed against the horse. He laid his head on the horse’s butt and instantly regretted the motion. The stench of a dirtied horse along with the falling of his head was enough to send his stomach into convulsions that reminded him too much of the night with Master Markko and his first dream walk training. His head shot up, only to be caught by Adar. His focused on his brother, who took out a waterskin. He snapped off the top and with the help of Ghrisz, placed some leaves into it. Once more topping it, he shook the skin for the herbs to mix, then placed the top of the skin to Llesho’s mouth. Despite trusting his brother more than anyone else, when the top brushed against his lips, he pulled them into his mouth and flinched away.
“Oh.” Adar breathed, to which Llesho swallowed hard. He had to apologize, had to tell his brother that it wasn’t him. He had done the same to Carina right after Markko had conjured up the poisons within him, but this was Adar.
Adar waited for his eyes to look at him. His brother wasn’t mad, it seemed, by the small frown upon his lips and the sympathetic tears in his eyes. When Llesho opened his mouth to speak, Ghrisz put a finger on it.
“Uh, why don’t you just keep that shut for now? Only one thing has come out of that this whole affair, and it hasn’t been words.” Ghrisz smirked, then ran his hand through Llesho’s hair. “Adar might be used to it as a healer, but I’m not.”
Adar glowered at his brother but took a silent sip of the water. He passed to it Ghrisz, who swigged, before handing it to Balar. By the time, it made it back to Adar, Llesho doubted there was anything left, but still, Adar put it to his mouth. This time, he drank, sucking in drawing swigs, which made the boy wonder if brothers swallowed any at all.
A galloping
of horse hooves sounded, and Llesho raised his hooded eyes up at the person
approaching. Ah, finally. Like his eldest brother wouldn’t have been a part of
this. Scouting—the most dangerous job. Llesho would have sent Ghrisz, their
rebellious brother—Okay, the one who led the rebellion in Thebin, since his
brothers would probably elect him the rebellious one. Ghrisz had been the
warrior prince and kept a resistance, along with Ping, his younger sister, in
the
“What’s the problem?” Shokar inquired with a quick demand and a cold glance at Llesho.
The boy still hadn’t regained all his functions, but his mind reeled unbound at the chill of the look. He actually shuddered at the depth of the hostility. Shokar had always been the one he had gone to for comfort growing up, who had always been there for him, even when he didn’t know he needed help. While he had a relationship with all his brothers, Shokar was the one whom he confided in the most, followed closely by Adar. Then…
Goddess, Shokar…I’m sorry. Forgive me.
Please…I didn’t mean it. I didn’t…
Resilient tears welled in his eyes, but he closed his eyes when the world tilted and swirled in front of his eyes. The dizziness would have dragged him to his knees if he wasn’t slung over the rump of a horse, helpless and bound.
Adar once
more held his head. “You know how he gets motion sick during travels like
these, and Balar felt the need to crack open his head again. We can’t continue like this.”
Shokar was ruthless, how
Llesho never knew him. “Balar, hit him over the head again.”
“Shokar!” Adar disputed, appalled. Llesho opened his eyes just enough to see Adar place himself in between Shokar and him, a brother and a healer. “I agreed to this once but not a second time. Our little brother is sick. We must figure another way to get him home without Balar harming him again.”
“We don’t have an extra horse to strap him to.” Ghrisz took over for Adar, his hand curled about Llesho’s neck and chin, holding the boy’s head up.
“But maybe we can ride double,” Balar suggested to Shokar, who had somehow become the unofficial leader. “We can help him up behind me and maneuver his arms over my head and about my waist. That should keep him on the horse.”
Ghrisz loosened his leather belt, as did Balar.
“He’s a god,” Shokar griped, turning his horse about on the path. “We should get him as far away from the gates of heaven before we give him any slack!”
“He’s our baby brother!” Balar argued back. “You, of all of us, should understand that!”
As Balar cut all the bonds but those binding his wrists, Shokar scowled and forced his heels into his horse’s flank. In a tempered rage, Shokar rode off, his horse kicking up dirt toward his four brothers.
Llesho felt his heart slip as he slid off the horse, and Ghrisz caught him—but Ghrisz wasn’t Shokar. Adar cupped his hands, while Ghrisz placed Llesho’s boot in them. Carefully, they worked Llesho up onto the horse, and Balar ducked when Llesho’s hands were lifted over his head and pulled down to his waist. With a few leather straps to Llesho and Balar’s legs, the youngest brother was secured to his youngest older.
When Adar rubbed his leg comfortingly, the tears slipped through his defenses and the crushing pain. He ducked his head, muttering pleadingly to his third oldest brother, “Tell him I was wrong. Tell him I’m sorry.”
Adar scrunched his leg. “Llesho, I don’t understand. What were you wrong about?”
The boy pressed his forehead into his brother’s back. “Everything…”
When Adar’s usual easy interrogation stopped short, Llesho heard his brother mount his horse again. Balar gripped the reins in one hand and placed his other on Llesho’s bound ones, holding his brother tightly. Under the soothing rhythm of Balar’s horse, Llesho leaned against his brother’s back, and all he wanted was to feel his brother’s body warmth for the rest of his life.
However, he found himself unable to stay awake from the lava still polluting his head and was dragged unwilling from reality.
*^*^*
Llesho gasped as his eyes snapped
open, and his chest heaved in air just to huff it back out. If Llesho could
actually catch it for a few seconds, possibly he would be able also catch his
bearings. The baby with short black hair and sapphire blue eyes shone with
curiosity and acknowledgement over him. The eyes were
Shokar’s youngest daughter.
Slowly, he brought his breathing under control, and he pushed himself onto his elbows. The warmth against his exposed left arm drew his attention, and Shokar’s daughter stood on her father’s stomach. Shokar, his mouth open slightly, slept soundlessly next to Llesho. The younger brother wondered if he was actually there, and if so, where were his other brothers? He abandoned the thought instantly, though, when he found Shokar’s daughter studying him again. He smiled gently when the girl climbed onto his stomach and snuggled against him, as if she was his own…or a familiar family member.
“Hello.”
Llesho gazed up hesitantly at the woman who stood at the foot of the bed, which he finally realized was big enough for two. Calm eyes showed no apprehension of him holding her child, and her stance, black straight, chin raised slightly with soft eyes, reminded Llesho of his mother as well. She wore modest clothes of a farmer’s wife, as did the four children standing behind her, three boys and a girl. The children’s clothes were dirty like they had been working in the fields all day, but their eyes were wide and engrossed, making them seem not at all exhausted from their exertion.
“My husband told me his god-brother was able to appear from the air,” the woman explained gently, soft in a whisper, as she came about the bed and eased herself down. “Are you that brother?”
He nodded with a small smile, cradling the baby in his arms. She was precious and almost instantly fell asleep in his embrace. “Shokar spoke of me?” It really shouldn’t have surprised him, but since he had left for heaven, he was afraid his brother would be so hurt he would never speak his name again.
“You are his little brother?” the seemingly eldest boy fell to the side of bed, and Llesho noticed he was barely younger than himself, a few years at most. “You knew Father before he was in Shan?”
Llesho smiled sadly, shrugging slightly. “Only for seven summers before the Harn attacked Kungol.”
“Father said you were the god Justice,” the girl proclaimed softly, not to waken her father, and she sat down at his side on the floor. “Is that true?”
“It is.” He returned her grin, then glanced about the room. He realized what he thought of the house was more of an apartment with a doorway leading to a main room along with two doorways just barely seen to the right. The place was elaborated decorated in gold and silver, much like the Palace of the Sun—in case it was the Palace of the Sun.
“I asked my husband to bring his god brother to see us,” the woman said, taking hold of her youngest son in her lap, while the other sat down behind her oldest son. “But that was not possible before. I am glad that you have come finally.” She placed out her hand, which he detached one from her daughter to kiss. “I am Vestina. My son,” she clutched the boy in her arm, “Llan,” motioned the oldest boy, “Kanar,” the second boy sitting, “Neven,” the older girl on the floor, “Drana.” In his hands, he held, “Venie.”
“Father said you don’t dream walk to him anymore, and you didn’t do it much before.” Kanar watched him with rapt eyes. “Are you staying?”
“Not for very long,” he admitted. He didn’t really want to leave, but eventually, he would wake up and need to talk to his brothers. Since Shokar was next to him now, he might as well start with him. “I promise I will return.” A humorous glimmer shone in his eyes, much like the twinkle of Master Den. “If Shokar has anything to say about it, I will be tending to your farm along side your children, Vestina.”
“Does he?” she asked.
His forehead crinkled with deep ridges. “What?”
“Does Shokar have a say in your future?”
Llesho didn’t even think. “Yes. Shokar will always have a say.” He handed back Venie, but not before planting a kiss on her forehead. “It has been wonderful to meet you, Vestina, and your family.”
“We are—” She cupped his chin and smiled benevolently. “—your family, too.”
Llesho smiled at the proclamation, his grin a thanks at her development and acceptance. Slowly lowering himself back to the bed, he curled about his older brother, and subconsciously, he felt Shokar’s arm curl about his body. He almost felt guilty because Shokar was asleep and wasn’t coherent to the pain Llesho had caused.
Still, Llesho couldn’t not revel in the embrace.
*^*^*
Llesho had never seen himself before when dream walking, and he wondered if his powers were meshing with Lluka’s. His brother was granted with the power of the past and the future by his goddess wife, but Llesho wasn’t sure Lluka would should him this—or had Llesho just invaded Shokar’s dreams. He realized dazedly it really didn’t matter.
Standing in the corner, Llesho allowed the fond and heart-breaking atmosphere of his room. It was just how he remembered it from his seven summers with his large bed in the middle, golden posts and frame along with a white comforters and golden trim. A white veil hung from likes tapestries off the posts and though transparent, would conceal the prince behind its cloak. A wardrobe, a dresser, another door to Khri’s, his bodyguard’s, quarters. He dismissed that, though, since the door to the outside hallway was open and outside stood Khri as well as Naev, Shokar’s bodyguard.
And likewise, Shokar was present.
In front of the window, Shokar jolted up and down, humming softly a Thebin lullaby that Llesho hardly remembered from his childhood. Hearing it again brought back memories from when his parents went away on business. Shokar, the oldest of his brothers, was twenty when he was born, and though he had a farm by that time, ironically, Shokar was the one who always came to the Palace of the Sun to look after him. This time was no different. Around his big brother’s neck were two tiny arms, hugging Shokar tightly, while laying lightly on Shokar’s shoulder Llesho could just see the top of a small head, black hair pushed back with the start of a braid on the left side. Eyes closed, the boy, possibly four at the most, slept soundlessly.
Llesho watched the scene before him. Shokar continued to hum and sing in hushed tones, bobbing the tiny body in his arms up and down. When he promenaded back and forth in front of the windows, Llesho saw the boy tucked in his massive arms, or so they seemed compared to the small baby’s. The boy’s head just fit into his shoulder, while Shokar balanced the boy’s bottom in one hand, the other wrapped about the tiny body. Tears saturated his eyes, and he couldn’t tolerate the scene anymore. Was he in his brother’s dreams? Was this what Shokar dreamt about? Him…as a baby?
He was afraid to find the answer but needed to know what his brother was thinking. When his legs began to move, he didn’t remember telling them to do so, and it was as if they acted on their own. He moved about the bed, coming to the window on the far side of the room. Shokar continued to stare straight ahead, balancing the boy in his arms.
Thus, it startled Llesho when Shokar spoke, “Do you remember when Mother and Father went away?”
Llesho nodded, though his brother
was turned away from him. “Yes. You used to come and care for me.” It was
before
“Every time I came your eyes just lit up with this limitless exuberance, and I prayed to the Great Goddess that you would always look at me that way.” Shokar hugged the being to him just a tad tighter. He released one hand to trail it through the boy’s long hair that ended just below his shoulders. “You had a night-terror. I had put you down for a nap, even though you persistently told me ‘no nap,’ but you were cranky, and eventually, I conquered even one of the seven mortal gods—” There was no evidence of laughter or facetiousness in his voice. “—with a game of Forty Winks.”
Llesho rolled his eyes. He was tricked by a game created to just put a child to sleep. Master Den would be proud of Shokar.
“Since we were playing, I laid down next to you. Within a few minutes, you woke up screaming. You babbled something about a spear and a demon-king and the fall of Cloud Country. I tried to calm you down, but eventually, I just held you and hummed until you cried all you could and fell asleep.” He stroked the boy’s hair, staring down with teary, aching eyes. “I thought you had a night-terror. I didn’t think you could see the future like Lluka.
“You were so innocent, so young. I wanted to protect you,” Shokar continued with no room for Llesho to interject. “But I didn’t. When the Harn came, I just kept thinking about what they did to you. Did they kill you and cut off your hair, wearing it like a trophy? Did they sell you in slavery? Were you with a gracious master or a pervert? Did you die during the Long March?” Tears coursed his cheeks unrestricted, and his chin fell to sit directly on the little boy’s head. “I didn’t look for you because I really thought you were dead. I didn’t think the Harn would keep a seven-summers prince alive and thought less that you would survive the Long March.” His voice cracked under the strain and emotional trauma, and Llesho never heard his brother’s voice do that before. “It took me a while to come to terms with losing my little brother, and I never have reclaimed him….have I, Llesho?”
Shokar turned on his heel, holding the boy in his arms but staring at his brother, glaring past the sputtering, teary-eyed boy, his eyes poring into Llesho’s soul.
A soul-wrenching demand, accented by gutted sobs.
“…Have I?”
Under the longing demand and the immerse pain evident in Shokar’s eyes, Llesho awoke with a start.
*^*^*
The bed rocked underneath Llesho as his eyes fluttered open, and he tried to push himself into a sitting position. His heads tied together in front of him, he couldn’t perform the task and instead stumbled back down to his drenched pillow, sweat-ridden long hair clamming his face. A soft jingle of metal clinging on metal infiltrated his head, but he didn’t register why coins would be on his bed. Instead, he concentrated on slowing his racing heart and calming his breathing.
Before he even beckoned a second wind, Adar was at his side, slipping motionlessly onto his bed. He met his little brother’s distraught gaze and wild eyes with a soothing smile and a cold compress to his face.
“So, you’re still having bad dreams,” Adar surmised from his exterior and wiped the cloth down Llesho’s face. “I thought the Great Goddess would take them away, but Justice must remember to render?”
Llesho laid back on his pillow, relaxing onto the bed he thought he would never see again. “I—I get some here and there, though since the battle at the gates of heaven, they have lessened.”
“What was this one about?” Adar always had been prone to Llesho’s mood swings, almost as much as Shokar.
Llesho hesitated about telling his brother, and Adar pressed anyway, which was not this brother’s nature. “Normally, I wouldn’t force you to explain, but after Lluka’s visions of you and what you left out about those nine summers.” His voice hardened. “You can imagine our disconcertion, Little Brother.” He dragged the cloth down Llesho’s neck, washing him of the sweat and discarding it to the side when his task was completed. His hands didn’t stay free for long, and he started to fuss with Llesho’s long hair.
Llesho gagged, his tongue suddenly thick and lame. The words broke free somehow in a stammered croak, “W—What did Lluka tell you?”
Adar’s face tensed, and instead of pity, only sympathy and lament tinged his words. “How could you not tell us you were chained by the neck to a workroom’s floor, or that Markko used let you squirm through the night under his poisons and torture you through mock-comfort? How could you keep that from us?”
Llesho buried his face in his pillow, wincing slightly at the pain flourishing in his head, remnants of Balar’s hit. Still, he wouldn’t lift his eyes. He couldn’t face Adar. He didn’t want anyone to know, especially Adar and Shokar, but Lluka…sure, now that he was free from the demon-king’s influence, did he feel the need to spill everything about Llesho’s past?
“I’m a god,” he reminded himself, though the tears still flowed.
Adar’s stern hand clutched the side of his face. “Llesho, look at me.”
Fat chance.
“Llesho, I’m your older brother! I was married before you were even born, and I changed your clothes and bathed you when you little. In fact—” Of course, it was then Llesho realized he was clean and was wearing different clothes from Thebin—a loose top and breaches, minus boots or stockings. “—I bathed you just this past eve, so look at me!”
With a grumble and cringe, Llesho did as he was told, though his stomach convulsed in terror of what he’d see in Adar’s eyes.
“I wasn’t strong enough,” he whispered, and under the intense worry in Adar’s eyes, he closed his eyes. “I couldn’t stop him. I didn’t know how to escape, and—and I just—”
“It wasn’t your fault, Llesho,” Adar soothed, still playing with his little brother’s hair. “And you’re stronger than even you give yourself credit. After all, you saved the realms of earth and heaven, and, on top of that, Justice is more terrible than even the goddess of war, or so I’ve heard.”
Llesho couldn’t believe his brother was joking. It was as if Adar didn’t begrudge him at all, which he finally realized was the case. Still, he needed to ask to squash all doubt. “Y—You’re not ashamed or disappointed in me?”
“Disappointed in the person who saved the world and heaven? Disappointed in the little brother who survived through the tortures of hell at the hands of a madman? How could you even think such a thing, Llesho?” He leaned forward to rest his forehead against his little brother’s, closing his eyes. His tears navigated the curves of his face and fell onto Llesho’s cheeks. “Goddess, Llesho, I never knew how close we were to losing you.” He shook, and it was the first time since they found each after years of separation that Llesho saw his brother shake.
“I dreamt about Shokar,” Llesho blurted suddenly. He hadn’t meant to, but somehow, under his brother’s confession, he felt the need to say everything. “He dreamt about the times Mother and Father would conduct terms in other lands, and he used to come to look after me. He saw me and asked me if he really lost me forever.”
For a moment, everything was silent, the world stopping to balance. Balar—he knew he was awake, now.
Adar didn’t lift his forehead, and a demoralized murmur balanced the world again. “Did we?”
“Personally, I think he just lost his way for a while, trying to become king, getting his head cracked, and his body fed toxins.”
Adar sighed before picking up his head and laying a kiss on Llesho’s forehead. Then, turning, he sighed at Lluka. “He thinks we’re ashamed that he’s been tortured.”
Lluka, a spitting image of Llesho in ten years, sauntered into the room, shaking his head with a tsk. “Little Brother, when will you realize that you’re mortal? Yes, a god, but nonetheless, mortal. It’s not your fault that someone was able to overpower you. If anything, I think we should be discussing other matters in which you will need our advice.”
As Lluka took a seat on the opposite side of Llesho from Adar, clinking the coins on the bed, the youngest brother crinkled his forehead in deep grooves. “Advice? For what? Staying mortal?”
Lluka raised an eyebrow. “Surely you cannot still be innocent. You must have questions about that.”
Adar glared at his brother, while Llesho’s face washed with horror. His subsequent blush was imminent, and he almost retreated to his pillow.
“Leave him alone, Lluka,” Adar ordered. “He’s just returned from heaven, and you’re talking about his relations with the Great Goddess.”
“By the way, considering he’s here, I take Balar did his part of the seizing him from her. Where was he, anyway? The gates of heaven? The celestial gardens? Just how damned are we?”
Though Adar shrugged, Llesho knew Adar despised any sort of injury, especially to his most beloved little brother. “The gates.”
“Balar didn’t need to do it,” Lluka stated, as if from an earlier argument. “Llesho would have been here anyway.” Now, he laid a hand on Llesho’s shoulder, keeping the boy down on the bed when he struggled to sit.
“He was in heaven.” Adar’s face contorted in disgust, ironically. “He would have rather stayed there than listen to the babbling of his older brothers.”
“Ask him yourself,” Lluka posed, motioning to their patient.
Adar seemed to dread that, so instead, Llesho let out his frustration at Lluka. “Now that you’ve regained the true nature of your powers, you’ve used them to see my past and future? Can’t you turn your blessed gift elsewhere?”
Lluka smiled warmly. “Sure, but who would find out what you haven’t been telling us then? Adar’s a healer; Balar balances the world. Shokar, Menar, and Ghrisz have no powers, and you lie. So,” his smile grew, “I guess that leaves me.”
“I think I liked you better when you were mad,” Llesho quipped, tilting his head back on the pillow.
Lluka still just smiled. “Just because you’re a god doesn’t mean you get your wish for everything…or does it?”
Llesho narrowed his eyes then rolled them. “Shut up.”
“Very mature. Nice to know that you’re one of the seven who tend to the mortal world.”
Adar smacked his brother in the shoulder, causing Lluka to yelp and rub his injured area. Llesho laughed lightly until Lluka glared, then he promptly stopped. When Adar started to probe his head again, Llesho winced at the little nail that still knocked into his head.
“Do you think you can sit up?” Adar asked.
Llesho once more glowered at Lluka. “I would be already, but someone pushed me down.”
Lluka lifted his hand from Llesho’s shoulder. “Wuss.”
“I’m the prince of dreams,” Llesho upheld with a smirk. “I can drive you mad again, you know.”
Lluka didn’t appear worried. “I hear I’m liked more when I’m in that state.”
“At least you weren’t picking around in my past.”
“By the way, we must talk about this Lord Chin-shi.” Lluka crossed his arms and gave his brother the sternest look he’d ever received from any of his six older brothers. “Did he really pay you for bedding?”
“He didn’t do it, though!” Llesho disputed, his eyes frantically darting from one brother to the other. He pushed into a sitting position, with much help from Adar, and sat with his legs loosely crossed, seeking comfort from both his brothers. “He wanted people to think that, but only because his wife had relations with Radius! And I didn’t want to, either! They told me to take it, and—and—”
“I know.” Lluka breathed, demoralized at him, not expecting the frantic reaction from his little brother. He then looked at Adar, who breathed with distress. “I’m just—”
Llesho knotted his fingers and slammed his ball into Lluka’s side. “Did you see everything? Are you planning on torturing me for the rest of my life?”
“I don’t need to. I think Balar will have fun with the whole ‘naked pearl diver’ stature.”
Llesho hung his head. “I wish Lluka was still mad. I wish Lluka was still mad. I wish Lluka was still mad,” he murmured over and over to himself like a song. Did he really have to use all his wishes from Pig at the gates? Or better yet… “I wish Lluka never received gifts from his goddess wife. I wish Lluka never received gifts from his goddess wife. I wish Lluka never received gifts from his goddess wife.”
Taking on the position of a healer, Adar lifted his brother’s left eyelid to take a better a look at the clarity of the soul. Then, he repeated the motion again to other before snatching Llesho’s hands and pressing the energy points to check his little brother’s vitality. “How’s your headache?”
“Better, but not completely gone.”
“You can thank Balar later.”
Now sitting, Llesho looked about
the room, having a better perspective. The white veil curled about the top of
the canopy, so that entire bed was exposed. The white blanket was just as
immaculate as it was eleven summers ago, while the gold glimmered just as
bright as the Great Sun. The room was airy with the windows open to the nippy
winter air of the
Opening his eyes, he met his brothers’ contented expressions with his own smile. They knew exactly what he did: He was home.
Now, if he could just get comfortable.
Writhing his wrists and wincing at the sharp pain of the ropes cutting into his skin, Llesho held his bounds up to his brothers. “Can you cut me out of these?”
“No.” Shokar’s harsh voice grated upon Llesho’s ears, and he stiffened at the mere noise. His eyes darting to his older brother in the doorway, the boy cringed as he remembered Shokar’s cold stare and his dejected tears in the dreams. Behind him, as he strode, entered Balar and Ghrisz, who helped Menar into the room. Menar immediately went to Llesho’s side, taking the boy’s face in his palpitating hands. Llesho smiled as Menar’s fingers made their way through the nooks and crannies of his face, from his forehead, over his eyes, nose, and cheekbones, down to his chin and neck. He knew what his older brother sought—the face of their father.
“Welcome home, Little Brother,” Menar whispered, laying his forehead upon Llesho’s.
“Our brothers calculated my kidnapping again, Menar.”
Adar moved to the side, allocating a spot on the bed for Menar, while Shokar stood at the foot, flanked by Ghrisz and Balar.
“Would it surprise you if I agreed to it?” Menar asked with a crooked smile.
Llesho gasped. Yes, it would, and yes, it did. He shook his head, growling, “Most people are blessed with two parents. How was I cursed with six?”
“Seven if you count
“She should. She’s the queen.” His
face tensed, and his searching eyes danced across the back of his brothers.
“Where is
Shokar’s terse voice didn’t change from its original gruff. “She’s in Shan with the Emperor, discussing the reentrance of Shannish trading in Thebin.”
Llesho made a note to visit after he escaped his brothers’ wrath.
“By the way, you should not complain about your six brothers, when it is your fault we are gathered at your side,” Lluka admonished with a knowing grin.
Llesho studied his older brother’s face with a mixture of distress and astonishment. Was his gift not limited to just this lifetime but others as well? If so, was nothing of Llesho’s past sacred?
“How much?” the boy-god demanded, impatient.
Lluka’s smile said it all—and Llesho meant all. Rather than dealing with that fact at the moment, he turned to Shokar. “You’re really not going to let me out of these?”
“You’re a god,” Shokar stated harshly with an absent shrug of his shoulder. “Can’t you get out of them yourself?”
Llesho grumbled and reached for the knife on his belt—where neither his belt nor his knife or sword hung.
Ghrisz held it out. “Looking for this?”
“You stole my knife?” Llesho inquired indignantly.
“We tried it your way.” Shokar gripped the golden rails of the bed to the point of whitened knuckles. “Now, you’re going to do it our way.”
“My way?” Llesho echoed. “What do you try my way?”
Menar motioned to the coins and pieces of paper littering the bed underneath and around Llesho and his others brothers. “We offered to Justice, one of the seven mortal shrines, but you never answered.”
“Since you, yourself, have just
discovered that you’re the seventh mortal god, there have never been any
shrines dedicated to you,” Shokar announced. “We are currently building one
outside the
Shrines? They were building shrines? For him?
“We used your room as a makeshift one until they are finished,” Menar explained.
“But why?” Llesho picked up a paper and looked to Shokar. “What could you want from me?”
Shokar once more pored his eyes into Llesho’s. “Read.”
Llesho obeyed and opened the folded.
His eyes grew huge and shocked at the sight of Shokar’s scripted words in high
court Thebin. “Please come back to us.” Another from Balar. “Will you come
back?”
Slowly, the requests became wish-threats. Menar, his handwriting skittered because he couldn’t see. “Shokar is getting impatient. You better get back soon.” Adar’s reserved attitude even offered a warning. “I know you’ll need me to look after you if Shokar’s plan works, so you better come back now.” Balar. “Don’t be ass. Come back already.”
And from Lluka. Today’s date and a simple order. “Duck.”
Llesho did duck his head, his face heated and his emotions surging over in the form of lost tears. They hadn’t moved on. They wanted him back…and he hated what he had to reveal. But he needed to. He needed to let his brothers know the truth—or Lluka would. He didn’t want to, hadn’t planned on letting them now of his sinful act of injustice, but he had no choice.
Brothers,
forgive me.
“I dreamed the last six months of my past lives.” Llesho didn’t raise his head, and his voice lowered to a whisper. “And…in every one of those—”
“Which ended tragically,” Lluka interjected.
Llesho nodded, not having it in him to be shocked that Lluka knew or that he was once more spouting his life to his brothers. “Y—You were there. All of you.”
“So, are we bad luck?” Balar questioned, to which Llesho shook his head.
“No. I—I…The Chibi-Mansi was wrong. When my child was killed by my brothers-in-law and I was betrayed, my sons did not avenge me. My brothers did. When I woke up after that life, I realized you weren’t there with me. Heart-cracked, I made a deal with Bright Morning.” He narrowed his eyes, staring at the comforter on his bed as if he were pleading his case, lifetimes later, directly to Mercy. “Since he knew that my lives would not be just, he felt the need to tilt the world toward me in that direction, so that I could enjoy some of it, even though much of it would be heartache. So…if I could find the souls of my brothers in that lifetime, he would attach them to me for all eternity, so I would always have them with me. If I didn’t collect them by the end of my life that time, then they would be lost to the underworld forever.”
A heavy silence overtook the Llesho’s room, the gravity of the situation spilling more tears down Llesho’s face.
“You risked our souls for your selfishness?” Shokar yelled indignantly.
Llesho winced and refused to raise his head. He didn’t want to see what his brothers thought or if they would never forgive him. They could have been free from the heartache that he caused, the death that followed in his wake. Justice demanded balance, like Balar’s job was. Yet, Balar wasn’t a god, and he certainly didn’t cause death and destruction in everyday life.
When no one spoke, he sputtered in hopes of rationalizing for himself as much as for his brothers, “I didn’t want to be alone in this world. When I woke up and none of you were there, I didn’t have a reason to go on. I knew the life I would lead would not be pleasant, and I didn’t want to live knowing death would follow me when justice demanded to be rendered. I wanted to know that there were people who loved me for who I was, who wanted to be near me, despite the disasters I would face.” Llesho looked up at Shokar, his oldest brother with whom he sought comfort in countless lives, the tears dripping from his chin to his legs. “I wanted to know that no matter what, there was always a shoulder I could bury my face in when the world got too much for even me to handle.
“I know I was selfish, that I only thought of my own pain and not what I would be causing all of you.” He swiped all his shocked and languid brothers into his weeping plea. “I just couldn’t bear living without you, and if you never speak to me again, and you hate me because I’ve dragged you into the war, and that it’s all my fault you were in slavery because you wouldn’t have been the princes of Thebin if it weren’t for me, then I understand. If you never want me to go come back here…” He ducked his head again and clamped his eyes shut. He didn’t want their answer, would have stayed there forever to just be near them, even if they never would spoke another word to him again.
To his utter shock, the bed rocked, and two warm, strong arms drew him into an embrace, despite the fact his wrists were still constricted. He buried his face in his brother, and it slid into the comforting and familiar nook of Shokar’s shoulder. He didn’t know how long he stayed there, but he simply fell to pieces in front of his brothers again. To his surprise, his brothers were once more there to pick them up. While he was secured in Shokar’s grasp, Menar continued to stroke his face, wiping the tears from the boy’s cheeks. Lluka rubbed the boy’s back, and Adar whisked the hair off of Llesho’s forehead. Balar clutched the boy’s shoulder, as Ghrisz crouched down to the bed and sliced Llesho’s hands free, so he could grip Shokar tightly. Immediately after, he laid a firm, yet comforting hand on Llesho’s knee.
After what seemed like an eternity passed and he had no more tears to shed, Shokar lightly lifted Llesho’s head from his shoulder. Llesho sniffled, then subsequently blushed, having lost his dignity for not the first time, and certainly not in front of his brothers.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, ducking his head.
It caught by Ghrisz and turned toward his older brother. “I, for one, am shocked that you chose this cadre to be tethered to your soul.”
Balar chuckled, stealing his little brother’s attention. “You could have chosen anyone for Mercy to bound to you, but you chose us.” He tousled the boy’s hair, feeling the bumps of Llesho’s roebuck horns. “I agree with Ghrisz. I’m shocked but would never leave your side.”
“We will be there for you,” Lluka said with a tilt of his head that indicated he knew more than any there. “It’s not like we have a choice.”
Llesho started to smile, though small and weak, but Adar grabbed him and pulled him into a quick hug. “I do not dare to ask Lluka, but I suspect there are many futures in which I will tend to you. The thought pains me, but I would give the honor to no one else.”
“And I still have many poems to write in honor of Justice.” Menar bowed his head and clutched Llesho’s hands to his forehead.
“But I might have to leave again…” Llesho’s voice trailed on in anguish and turmoil of what might occur. He turned to him whom Llesho hurt the most and pulled his head back at the scrutinizing glare that met him. Shokar’s hardened eyes glared past Llesho’s soft ones and directly into his quivering soul, but his hands didn’t tighten about Llesho’s shoulders. Instead, he ducked his head to be eye level with Llesho.
“Have I?” he asked again, searching for the little brother he lost all those cycles ago. He looked deep into Llesho’s soul for the boy who used to fit into his torso, and suddenly, something glimmered in his brother’s eyes, something that had been hidden, buried deep with frighten, bravery, and responsibility.
Llesho smiled lovingly, fresh tears welling in his eyes. “No,” Llesho replied, and when Shokar’s eyes faded, he added, “because you never lost me to begin with.”
With his own tears, Shokar drew the boy once more to his shoulder and held him, just content to feel the boy’s presence against him. Then, as he finally came to grips with the situation, he added with a hand over his brother’s crown, “You have six brothers. If you have to leave, one of us will always be with you.”
The thought warmed Llesho’s desolate heart, but he sunk back into dread with what Shokar demanded next. “You must, however, stay on my farm for at least three cycles, until you reach legal age in Thebin.”
“But isn’t that in Shan?” He didn’t complain, knowing that if his responsibility took him elsewhere, Shokar would let him go, and if it didn’t, then he would take his position on the farmer next to Shokar’s daughter, whom he had only met in dreams. Maybe now, they could meet face-to-face, as well as his wife.
Shokar shook his head. “My wife and little Venie moved to Thebin once we freed the city, so I have reclaimed the lands that used to be mine.”
Llesho sighed contently, leaning against Balar for support. “I met Vestina and the seedlings, and I held Venie.”
“I know,” Shokar smiled, ruffling his little brother’s hair. “She told me that you slept next to me for a little while.”
Sleep…that sounded too good to be true. At home. With his brothers. And expectantly, he found Balar held him up more than he held himself.
At the sight of his suddenly hooded eyelids, Adar moved from the bed to the table next to the window and pouring some tea from a crystal pot into a cup. Handing it to Llesho, he commanded his brother to drink, which the boy did without complaint. When he finished, Ghrisz took his brother’s hand. “What were you doing down by the gates of heaven? We thought we were going to have to go into heaven to find you.”
Llesho suddenly reddened. “I was coming down to see you.”
“But why, brother? Your goddess wife is in heaven, and after your rest, ChiChu said you would need to wander,” Menar declared.
“Uh…” he muttered something too low for anyone to hear, except for Lluka, who already knew.
“The Great Goddess kicked him out,” Lluka explained in a brief declaration, “and the wandering has yet to occur. Right now, he is still resting.”
The five lost brothers stared in disbelief. “What?”
How all they all managed to speak the word together remained a mystery to Llesho, but Lluka was right. “The Great Goddess told me that she wanted her husband to be content, and I wouldn’t be until I was just to my own heart and reclaimed my brothers—again. So…here I am.”
“So, you aren’t here to stay?” Adar gasped. None of them could bear losing their brother so soon after reclaiming him.
“No,” Llesho calmed them, touching each on the forearm, “I can return to her at any time.” He pointed on his head, motioning with his finger. “And she will call me when she wants me.”
“Whup-lash!” Balar threw his hand forward, then pulled it back quickly. “Someone is whipped. That was quick.”
Llesho thumped him on the arm and opened his mouth to retort, only to be cut off by a shriek of a hawk. He knew that sound, knew the only person in the world who would dare to fly this high, and the person in hawk form snipped her beak on Llesho’s bedroom window. He slumped, as his brothers realized who she was, and Lluka let the hawk inside. The bird collapsed on the floor, only to change into a human a moment later.
Gasping on the floor, her hair disheveled and her face and clothes dirty, the former captain of Llesho’s cadre addressed the brothers in between drawing air. “Llseho…hit…might be…captured…” She pressed her hand against her stomach, while Adar bent down next to her, handing her a cup of water. She accepted it with a gracious smile and drank it down quickly.
Llesho shifted behind Lluka, who once more sat down the bed, making sure to keep out of sight of her sharp eyes. It didn’t work. When she looked up at the boys gathered, her hawk eyes immediately widened at Llesho behind his brother.
“Hmishi was right! You were taken by your brothers again!”
Llesho smiled wearily, slinking back to his original position. “Sorry for the worry.”
She stood with much help from Adar and glared with mock-anger at the boy-prince. “I knew even you couldn’t get into trouble so fresh from heaven.”
“When did you have time visit your cadre?” Ghrisz asked, straightening his legs to finally stand.
Llesho arched one shoulder. “When I fall unconscious unwillingly, I seem to dream walk to whoever is thinking about me. Since that was Bexei, Stipes, Hmsihi, and Lling, I just went to them. When I fell asleep again, I went to Shokar.” He grinned with no embarrassment of the fondness in his eyes. “I can’t believe you retreat there.”
“Even if you did dream about the Harn, I wouldn’t take back those days for anything,” Shokar answered just as warmly.
“Well,” Kaydu replied, dusting off
her
“He will as soon as he rests,” Adar protested, handing Kaydu to Balar and shooing everyone from the room. “I fed you some tea to help you sleep, so you will have no problem getting to sleep. So, go to sleep.” He slightly pushed Llesho back down to his pillow, ignoring the sputtered disagreements and helped Menar from the bed. As the brothers and Kaydu stared out of the room, Shokar remained, Adar-approved. He nudged his brother over on his bed with a slight grin, then fell down to the feathered mattress.
“What are you doing?” Llesho asked, looking at his brother, who laid down right next to him.
Shokar ran his hand over Llesho’s eyes, very much like Menar and healer Adar, and urged his brother to sleep. “Forty Winks. I bet I can beat you this time.”
“I’m eighteen and a god.”
“That doesn’t impress me. I changed and washed you when you were younger.”
“Which you and Adar seem apt not to let me forget.”
“Just be happy we didn’t let Balar or Lluka. You’d have likely drowned.”
Llesho snorted, then sighed upon his pillow. “Do you miss Dreg?”
“Dreg?” Shokar opened his questioning eyes. “Should I?”
“I guess not. I do, though.” He looked away, eyes crestfallen. He pressed harder into his pillow, seeking solace. “After all, how can I forget our eighth brother? If I just would have found him in time…”
Shokar stared at Llesho in horror…until he grabbed the pillow from under his head and hit Llesho over his shoulder, head, and stomach. “Liar!”
Llesho giggled and tried to block Shokar’s attack, but couldn’t. Eventually, when the little brother laughed so hard he couldn’t catch his breath, Shokar settled down again. Then, despite his resistance, Llesho found himself drifting to sleep under Shokar’s ministrations—a hand trailing through his long, unrestricted hair, then massaging the numbs of his antlers.
On the verge of sleep, however, he was almost jerked awake at the warning, “And when you’re rested, we’re going to talk about that ‘naked pearl diver’ you left out when you described your slave labor.”
Being given the power to dream walk, Llesho hoped they could have that discuss alone, in their minds, so as not to bring it up in front of Balar. For some reason, though, Llesho knew Shokar would allow him to have a relaxing, dreamless sleep, even though his brother had no powers from the goddess.
The End