SIC WAS sitting in the tent he shared with Noran, his legs crossed on the soft fur his dark lover had gifted him right before they went on the campaign into the Dark Forest. The revelation that he was able to pump the Echend’dim full of his power to overcome the ancient magic laced with fortune spells woven into the very fabric of the woods had not tipped the scales in their favor, because the enemy was cunning and ruthless in his use of magic, but it had evened the playing field, which made it possible for the Pack to play on its strengths—masterful swordsmanship and perfect interaction between the warriors.
Still, there were more members of the Pack dying than was usual for such a campaign, and Sic was calling more and more of them back. He knew by now why he couldn’t determine who would be an Echend’dim before the person died. Their suitability wasn’t apparent by outward signs and didn’t come from any special circumstances at their births or other romantic notions one would have suspected behind the honor of gaining such a coveted and important role. No, whether somebody became Echend’dim hinged solely on two factors—if Sic got to them early enough after their deaths and if they had the will to live. The stronger the determination to remain on Ana-Darasa, the longer the person stayed available after the initial death, the easier it was for Sic to bring them back. Unfortunately for all of them, the decision whether to stay or leave for the Green Lands was made in death, and apparently none of the warriors knew beforehand into which category they fell.
Canubis had not been overly pleased with this particular information, since it meant he still had to rely on chance when it came to acquiring new Echend’dim, because not even he was coldblooded enough to simply kill all his warriors and then have Sic call them back in the hope most of them would make it. Though he hadn’t been as disappointed as Sic had expected. Canubis had explained it easily enough: “I understand the severity of the decision, and I know enough to realize it can only be made between life and death, when one’s sight is clear and devoid of any distraction. There may be those who say they want to stay and then realize there’s more calling them to the Green Lands than keeping them on Ana-Darasa, and the other way round. And it’s only fair those who come to stay with us for eternity get the chance to choose freely. After all, we expect a lot from them.”
Sic understood his god’s reasoning, it coincided with his own view on the matter, yet he still had trouble accepting it all. Because he didn’t just call the Echend’dim back to serve the gods. If that had been all there was to it, he could have accepted the weight of his responsibility more easily. No, he also called them back to serve as an outlet for his own power, a very selfish thing indeed. All his life Sic had been used by others for their personal gain. Suddenly finding himself in a position to do the same, even though the circumstances were different, as Noran and Daran and Lukan never grew tired of pointing out, still made him uneasy. Making the transition from a walking dead man to honored Emeris and feared Luksari had changed Sic in ways he couldn’t fully understand. On top of it all, his feelings for Noran were growing each day, and he could sense the man’s need to fully connect with him. Noran’s pain, caused by the constant rejection from Sic, was palpable whenever they were together, and Sic didn’t know how to explain to his former master that he didn’t fear him but the severity of the bond they could forge between them. They were light and darkness, forever dancing around each other, always the other’s opposite, always occupying a space the other couldn’t inhabit at the same time. Sic was almost sure his Luksari light wouldn’t swallow Noran’s darkness, but the fear remained.
What would happen if he did? Would Noran and he become one in a way neither of them had anticipated nor wanted? And what if they didn’t? What did it mean for their commitment to each other if their union wasn’t complete? After all, they were the exact opposite of each other.
Sic was aware his thoughts were going in circles, focusing on everything that could go wrong. Since the decision he was about to make would once again change his life in ways he never thought possible, he felt he had a right to panic. Sic started expanding his chest in a conscious effort to calm his thoughts and reach deep into himself where the Luksari slumbered. The creature was kind of fickle, only answering Sic’s calls when it felt like it, otherwise seemingly content to be a mere onlooker. Sic still hadn’t been able to consolidate the Luksari with his own sense of self, even though he knew they were technically the same person—or entity—or being. He simply couldn’t tell. Taking deep breath after deep breath, Sic finally felt his tumultuous thoughts stopping their endless spiral into grim scenarios. The Luksari stirred, looked at him through eyes that remembered the universe when it was still one with chaos. Sic shuddered in the face of such unfathomable age, yet he knew he couldn’t let his awe get in the way of communicating with this other part of himself.
What do you need?
Sic furrowed his brows. He was pretty sure the Luksari knew. A soft chuckle confirmed his suspicion.
I do know. We are one, after all. See it as your inner voice trying to help you figure out your thoughts.
“You’re a bastard. Has anybody ever told you that?”
I am you.
Sic sighed. There was no winning this argument. Could there be a winner if he was having this discussion with himself? Probably not.
“I want to know what I should do about my master.” Sic tried to think about his former owner simply as “Noran” as often as possible to better get used to them being equals now, and he was doing a pretty good job of it most of the time, even in his own thoughts. But what he was doing now was profound, reaching so deep into his very being that he felt it necessary to acknowledge what had always been true in some form—Noran was his master, the person who owned his body and heart and soul through one act of such incredible kindness Sic still couldn’t fathom it. “I feel the need to complete our connection, forge it into what it was meant to be.”
But you’re afraid.
“Are you going to hurt him? Consume him?” Since the Luksari was going straight for the jugular, Sic saw no need to hold back either.
I am you. Would you hurt him? Consume him?
“Never.”
Then why would I?
“He’s darkness. You’re light.”
He’s our balance, the other anchor to this world besides our Zaheerosh. His darkness counters our light, makes it bearable for those around us, contains its cruel sides. We need him. You know that.
“I know I need him for other reasons as well. But I don’t want this to be one-sided, us needing and him providing. It’s just not fair.”
We’re providing as well. Our master is in desperate need of balance, something to keep the darkness from consuming his mind again.
“Are you sure?”
Can’t you feel it?
Sic could feel it. Could feel how Noran always seemed to be one step away from falling back into the void he’d been trapped in after Arja’s betrayal and death. He had always seen his master as a man without fear, but the last year had shown Noran had his own insecurities and inner demons to fight. Only recently had Sic started to believe he could maybe help his master deal with it all. Perhaps it was time for him to become the man Noran needed by his side instead of dreading what would happen if he failed.
Contentment filled Sic, welling up from the place inside him he had come to associate with the Luksari’s presence. His other half was happy with his decision, seeing it as something inevitable that was finally coming to pass. And who was he to argue with himself?
AEGID AND Kalad looked up when Daran entered their shared tent. The thief looked exhausted, with deep lines around his mouth and dark shadows under his eyes. His armor was covered in a mixture of blood, dust, and some greenish fluid humans secreted when they received a cut to the gut. Daran reeked of battle and sweat and death, a combination the desert brothers found irresistible. The only thing keeping them from grabbing their husband and ravishing him before he’d had his bath was the forlorn look in his eyes. It called for a different approach.
Kalad stepped forward, effectively stopping Daran’s momentum toward the back of the tent where the bathtub was standing. “Let us help you, little thief.”
Daran’s shoulders slumped, as if the pet name had cut the last string holding him upright. Kalad could feel the tension draining from their lover’s body when he finally allowed himself to let go. Aegid stepped next to Kalad, reached for the clasps on Daran’s breast shield, and started opening them.
Daran took a deep breath. “Thank you.”
Kalad joined Aegid in his efforts to get their husband naked. “Always, little thief.”
They made quick work of Daran’s armor and clothing, then led him to the bathtub. Once the thief was in the water, his beautiful long black hair fanning out around him, Aegid started a soft massage with the berry shampoo Daran loved so much. Kalad took Daran’s sword hand to knead the tension from it. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Daran sighed. “No.” He opened his eyes to look at Kalad. “But I should.”
Kalad concentrated on Daran’s hand, giving their lover time to gather his thoughts. Ever since Sic had started bringing back more and more Echend’dim, Daran’s stress had multiplied. Which was understandable, since he was the First of the Eternal Guard, the leader of the Echend’dim. It was a lot of responsibility for a young man who’d been a mere bed slave not too long ago.
“Everything is so sharp.” Daran’s voice pried Kalad from his musings about the changes their little thief had undergone since they’d found him on the market in Kwarl.
“Sharp?” Aegid’s voice was calm, deep, soothing. Together with the magic his hands worked on Daran’s scalp, it did the trick of relaxing their thief to the bone.
“I don’t know how else to describe it. It’s as if everything has become more, even when Lord Sic is not channeling his energy into us. There’s always the others in my head, like a distant murmur I can’t get rid of, and when I think about tuning them out it feels wrong, but it also feels wrong to have such a connection to somebody who isn’t you. And once you’ve seen the world through magic, it changes everything.” He sighed deeply, slipped a bit farther under the water until the underside of his nose was right above the surface.
Kalad and Aegid shared a look. Daran’s connection to the other Echend’dim was something they had already discussed at length. What had helped them to grumpily accept it was the fact that their own connection, grown over centuries, was similar in its exclusivity. They didn’t keep Daran out, at least not consciously, but behavioral patterns cultivated over several human lifetimes were not easy to shake off. And Daran didn’t want them to anyway. His reasoning was that he’d fallen in love with them as a unit, and his understanding of his role in their triad was that of the missing piece completing the pattern. He had different relationships with both of them, the one with Kalad more playful and perverted, the one with Aegid dominated by a mutual interest in art. But those were mere threads, slowly growing and thickening in the process of them getting to know each other’s personalities. What bound them together with chains more solid than blue steel was the unconditional love they felt for each other. Everything else was just embellishment.
“You know we’ve made our peace with you having that connection.” Aegid sounded tentative, not sure if this was what Daran wanted or needed to hear.
Daran resurfaced enough to be able to answer. “I know. It’s still weird. When you took me with you after we first met, I realized quickly that you were my future. I never thought I could have something similar with somebody else.”
“Life is full of surprises.” Aegid smiled over Daran’s head, gently slinging the wet strands around his wrist and tugging. Daran immediately understood and got up without complaint. Kalad watched hungrily as the water traveled down their thief’s toned body, caressing the skin in a way Kalad would have been jealous of if the sight hadn’t been so alluring. He offered Daran his hand to help him get out of the tub, and Aegid wrapped their husband in a soft towel to get him dry. They boxed Daran in from front and back, giving him their warmth and protection. Daran sighed happily.
“Can we make love tonight?”
The question came out tentative, something Kalad understood. Usually when they had sex, no matter how tame it started, it turned into something feral and wild, due to their predatory, insatiable natures where each of them gave as good as he got. In the beginning, it had been Daran who submitted to Kalad’s and Aegid’s lust, but since the thief became Echend’dim and accepted his place as the First of the Eternal Guard, his own dominance was coming out to play on a regular basis, proving to the desert brothers that he was truly their equal now. For Daran to show such vulnerability must mean he was truly shaken and in need of their reassurance, something Kalad and Aegid were more than happy to give.
“Of course, little thief.” Aegid’s voice was like a caress itself, washing over Daran with the promise of safety and comfort. They dried their thief before they took him to the low bed piled high with soft furs and comfortable cushions where they spent their nights. Daran was pliant in their arms, giving himself fully to them, trusting them to take care of him, to love him the way only they could. With hands and lips the desert brothers mapped Daran’s body, massaging the places where his muscles had formed hard knots, caressing the spots they knew he enjoyed most. Soon Daran was purring like a cat, arching into their touches, desperate for more skin-on-skin contact to soothe his raging thoughts.
When Aegid oiled his fingers to prepare their thief for penetration, Kalad started stroking both his own and Daran’s cock, giving Aegid a show that had his own member straining against the soft fabric of his tunic. Getting Daran ready was both pleasure and torture, and Aegid thanked the goddesses that he was by now used to them, which shortened the process considerably. Not that he didn’t want to give his husband all the loving he deserved, but controlling his own urges when Daran was mewling and undulating under his fingers was close to impossible. Aegid was relieved when Daran dug his fingernails into his forearm and pleaded softly, “Take me. Show me who I belong to. Show me that I’m loved.”
Aegid looked at Kalad, and they both shuddered at the urgency in Daran’s tone. With a soft expression full of love he rarely showed, Kalad leaned over Daran, taking his lips in a deep kiss while Aegid spread their thief’s legs, opening him for Kalad’s member. Daran groaned softly into Kalad’s mouth, took what his husband was giving him, full of gratitude and eagerness. Kalad started moving slowly, tenderly, while Aegid held Daran’s shoulders, cushioned their rocking motions with his big body, gave Daran the warmth and solidity he so desperately needed. It was a far cry from their usual rough lovemaking, and yet it was more intense than even their most athletic escapades. This wasn’t about dominance or endurance; it didn’t matter who led and who followed. Daran needed his husbands—not the two warriors he had bound himself to, not the predators who had stolen him from his home, not the two men who had accepted him as their third—he needed the love of his two anchors in a world that was steadily going crazy around them and was asking more of Daran than he would have ever imagined.
Kalad took his time, denied Daran his orgasm to wind him up more, to prepare him for Aegid, who didn’t rush either and slowly, steadily carried Daran to heights the thief never wanted to leave. When he finally came in the loving embrace of his husbands, Daran cried, tears streaming down his face as he accepted the absolute relaxation of his entire body. He was asleep before Kalad and Aegid were done getting comfortable with him between them, and the two desert warriors let him be.
They watched with unconditional love as their thief found his rest, snuggled against both of them.
SIRA WAS trapped. She knew what she was experiencing wasn’t real, that it was all just a dream, but she couldn’t break free. She was back in the small room at her former master’s home, naked and covered in bruises. Soon the men would come. They would take her out of the room and bring her to her master’s customers so that they could sample her. Sira tried to remember that she no longer had a master, that Lord Sic had freed her, that she was paid for her services, but the dream wouldn’t budge. Tears of anger and despair slithered down her cheeks when she heard the men approach.
A scream tore the air, followed by a heavy thump. Sira fixed her gaze on the door. The handle turned and it swung open. In the frame stood Cornelia. To Sira, she looked like an angel, even though she was covered in blood. Behind Cornelia, something big stirred. Screaming, Sira backed into the far corner of the room when she saw three snake heads with blood dripping from their snouts turning toward her. Cornelia smiled at her while she patted one of the heads.
“Don’t be afraid, Sira. They are here to help. In fact, they like it when you scratch them between the eyes.”
Cornelia held out her hand, and when Sira reluctantly came closer, she showed her the spot. With trembling fingers, Sira started to pet the head and was rewarded with a deep rumble. She could feel her tension slowly dissipate.
“This is nice. They’re warm.”
Cornelia beamed. “Aren’t they cute? No more nightmares for any of us. My children will guard our dreams from now on.”
IN THE cave deep down in the sea where she was hiding, the Good Mother screamed in rage. Her carefully crafted nightmares, meant to weaken and even kill the members of the Pack, were destroyed one by one. When she tried to get back into the realm of dreams to enhance them, she could no longer enter. A barrier kept her out, a barrier so strong, it could mean only one thing: the queen of the realm had taken her rightful place. Knowing she could no longer use the dream world to fight against the Pack, the Good Mother retreated to weigh her options.