Liqaria, 15th of Eighthmoon 3045
The fire had gone out by the time Hawk next opened his eyes. Only the faint light coming from the hole in the ceiling told him the sun had risen. The constant humming of wind left the cave echoing with ghostly chimes, like an enormous instrument of some kind. The cave floor was hard even through the sleeping bag, and Hawk felt each and every ache left by the bumps and pebbles in his body, but made no attempt to get up immediately.
There was no sign of Ren’i anywhere. He hadn’t come back all night, but Hawk knew he wasn’t far. He could feel it clearly, in the same way one senses the presence of another when they’re nearby, even if you can’t see them. It was the only thing that had kept him calm while Ren’i had been out hunting for food during those days they’d spent alone in the woods: the knowledge that he was closeby, alive. The sense of Ren’i making his way back to camp had roused Hawk from his slumber every time, no matter how deeply he’d been sleeping.
The feeling was present all the time, but even then Hawk could not put it into words; he’d never felt anything quite like it before. It was like an additional instinct, one that had only grown stronger the past few days, and right now that instinct had him sighing with relief.
Despite everything Ren’i had kept his word. Though Hawk had done his all to drive him away, he had stayed.
Hawk sat up gingerly. His leg still protested any and all sudden movements, but he managed to get to his feet by using the wall for support. He inhaled, waiting for the leg to get accustomed to his weight.
Ren’i’s backpack with its belongings was in the same place he’d left it the day before. Hawk did not even glance in the direction of the cave mouth and the main chamber they’d entered from. He leaned against walls for support and limped deeper in the cave, the feeling of Ren’i’s presence growing stronger with every step.
The gusts had Ren’i shivering from the cold. He’d pulled up his collars against the worst of the draft, but the warmth emanating from the cave did not reach the entryway where he was sitting.
A familiar feeling that he was not alone grew stronger. He’d felt it throughout the long night, had followed its beckon like a compass back to the camp when there were no other guideposts. Whatever it was, there was something soothing about it; he was certain that the same feeling, or instinct, or intuition, had settled in the pit of his stomach already back at Hatam-Ile. He didn’t need to ask to know that Hawk had found him, and Ren’i was not in any way surprised when their eyes met.
”I thought you might have woken up,” Ren’i said, glancing over his shoulder.
The look on Hawk’s face was withdrawn. Ren’i was still not particularly adept at reading his moods, but he could tell from Hawk’s mannerism that he was thinking feverishly.
”Listen,” Hawk began. ”About yesterday…”
Ren’i raised a hand and stopped him. ”Say no more. Let’s just leave it be.”
”I said things I didn’t mean.”
And some things that I did, Hawk added in his mind.
He could read from Ren’i’s eyes that he knew exactly what Hawk had left unsaid.
”There’s no need to apologise for speaking the truth.” Ren’i fell silent for a moment, lips moving soundlessly as he searched for the right words. ”I don’t want to hear any apologies, and I’m not going give you any, either. I’m not sorry that I’m refusing to leave you here.”
Hawk didn’t smile, but Ren’i could see the corners of his mouth twitching. ”I might be able to live with that.”
”Might?”
”Just about.” He paused. ”Have you been here all night?”
”Yup. Take a look and see why,” Ren’i said, gesturing for him to come closer.
Hawk hobbled forwards carefully, not daring to lean his weight on the injured leg, which was throbbing worse than ever from the short walk. The mouth of the cave was partially enclosed with the fallen snow, but Ren’i had engineered a peephole in it to see outside. The hole lead somewhere totally different than where they’d entered the cave. There were no signs whatsoever of hills or trees. Through the snowfall Hawk could make out something that resembled a courtyard, surrounded by cliffs on all sides. There were faint paw prints in the snow.
”Hares,” Hawk mused.
”There must be gaps somewhere over there the animals can use. I managed to catch one early in the morning.” Ren’i lifted the hare lying at his feet, its white fur sporting a single red stain. ”I waited to see if I might catch another.”
”Do you think the weather’s clearing up today?”
”Not before nightfall, at least.”
Hawk saw the blue tinting his lips and said, ”come warm yourself up. I doubt anyone’s finding us in this weather.”
While the hare was roasting over the fire Ren’i curled up in the same corner where Hawk had spent his night and let his eyes close. He was in fast asleep within minutes, and Hawk dared to look at him properly for the first time since leaving the forest. The sleepless night had left deep, dark shadows beneath Ren’i’s eyes, his visage was permanently reddened from the cold, and his cheeks were sunken.
Hawk draped his own coat over Ren’i as an extra quilt and did not rouse him until evening.
Liqaria, 16th of Eighthmoon 3045
The storm was gone the next morning. They dug themselves out of the cave and continued the journey. Progress was slow; there was snow up to their knees in many places, and the rises were steep. Hawk had lost his sense of time. How long ago was it when they’d last seen Blueleaf and the others? A week, another? Whatever tracks they’d left had washed off in the constant snowstorms, if they’d ever made it there to begin with.
They were breathing heavily after the long ascent, lactid acid leaving their legs tingling. The climb was worth the trouble, Ren’i thought as he looked around. The view was imposing.
A whole landscape of pure white, heaven and earth blending in with one another so seamlessly that he could not tell where the mountains ended and the clouds began. It left an atmosphere that bordered on pious in the place. He had no trouble understanding why the Liqaris thought of the mountains as a holy place. Even if Khuus and Tari’s spirits did not rest there, some part of their presence still seemed to linger in the region as a memory of a world long gone, and Ren’i understood why Liqaris chose not to inhabitate the area.
”Ren’i?”
It was only upon hearing Hawk’s voice that he realised he had stopped. A hazy veil of clouds floated across the mountain tops and hid them from view entirely. Two of the tallest peaks of the Khuusian mountain range vanished behind the clouds, and Ren’i placed a hand on his chest in reverence.
”You know the story about how the Khuusian mountains were born?” he asked.
”I do. The final resting place of the demon god Khuus is here, and the mountains grew around him to shield his grave.”
Ren’i nodded, unable to tear his eyes off the mountain.
”They say he settled in this world far more firmly than the other gods. When he died, Tari was so devastated with grief that he poured the rest of his powers in the very soil of Melkem, and the resulting burst of his ashay was so enormous that it raised a new mountain range right where Khuus was resting. It took so much power that Tari died on the spot, holding the body of his beloved. He did not want to live in a world where Khuus was no longer present.”
”Not even your gods were fully immortal.”
”Their lifespans were tied to their ashay, just like ours are.” Ren’i pointed at the two peaks, one of which hovered almost protectively beside the other, and with his mind’s eye he could make out the bodies of the two gods, entwined around each other. ”Tari is still holding Khuus’s head on his lap. This is their shared grave, the place where even death can no longer separate them.”
The long silence that followed his words was absolute, and not even the wind disturbed it.
”I’ve heard that there’s a waterfall in the north where their statues stand at its feet,” Hawk said quietly. ”Hands clasped together into eternity.”
Ren’i smiled. ”The Statues of the Eight. They’re located in Hol Saro.”
”I thought Kishans worshipped Quan, not Tari and Khuus.”
”We worship no one. Quan was our ancestor, nothing more. We honour his memory, and the memory of the other seven gods.” He finally managed to tear his eyes off the mountains. ”Still, the waterfall is an impressive place. I’ll show it to you, should you ever decide to come for a visit.”
Hawk couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him. ”Doubt it. But thanks for the offer.”
Blueleaf’s estimate turned out to be correct: there were plenty of caves in the area that made for good shelter. Towards the night Ren’i sensed a change in the air, a faint scent of salt that told him they were approaching their goal. He forwarded the information to Hawk, who could not smell anything with his stuffy nose. His leg would still not allow him to walk unassisted, but he cheered up noticeably after getting his bow and arrows back. When they set up a fire they had three chubby landfowls to pluck, all shot by Hawk. Neither of them recognised the birds, but their appearance hinted that they were somehow related to pheasants.
As the birds cooked Ren’i took off his coat and shirt and allowed Hawk to inspect his wound. The coarse canvas made for poor gauze, and the dried blood and fluids had made the rag glue itself to his skin so thoroughly that Ren’i squealed when Hawk ripped it off.
”You should have exchanged this more often,” Hawk said sternly.
”I probably should have, yeah.”
Ren’i looked elsewhere while Hawk washed off the dried blood. His hands were coarse with calluses, and Ren’i shuddered despite himself as he inspected the mark left by the sword. If the captain or Ruan or anyone of his Guards had been there to see someone touching their crown prince with bare hands they would’ve had a fit, and Ren’i decided to never mention it within their earshot.
”Scarred,” Hawk remarked. The sword had left a long slash directly between the ribs. Ren’i’s skin was still a mess of yellow and purple all around the scar. ”Unfortunately the salve can do nothing about the bruising. Does it still hurt?”
Ren’i swallowed. ”It’s just a bit sore. It’ll be fine.”
He tried not to jolt as Hawk bent closer and took his left hand with his own. At the last moment Hawk hesitated, fingertips already brushing against the tattoo adorning Ren’i’s shoulder. ”May I?”
”Sure,” Ren’i heard himself say. His eyes slipped shut almost on their own when Hawk felt the lines of the tattoo lightly, with careful consideration, much more gently than the children at the summer festival. Each touch sent shivers down Ren’i’s back.
”It’s red. Does this hurt?”
Quite the opposite, Ren’i thought. The words got stuck somewhere halfway between his lungs and larynx, and he just shook his head.
He could almost feel Hawk’s breath on his skin, and when he managed to pry his eyes open he was very aware of just how close to each other they were. It felt so natural that Ren’i did not know what to do with himself. Hawk’s eyes were almost black in the firelight, his gaze strangely peaceful beneath the heavy eyelids. Ren’i looked him straight in the eye and Hawk looked back. Neither of them knew how to turn away.
Hawk felt it again, just as he’d felt it in the woodlands of Hatam-Ile, and in the healer’s room, and during the summer festival’s night weeks ago. One look was an eternity. One look, and he felt like he’d lived his entire life without breathing once and had only just now inhaled his lungs full of air for the very first time.
He blinked and forced himself to look elsewhere, anywhere but Ren’i.
”You have so many tattoos,” he managed to say. It sounded stupid even to his own ears. Of course he had. Was there a Kishan who didn’t? Hawk could still feel the lump in his throat, which seemed to have grown roots there, and it made it difficult to concentrate.
”Oh, this is nothing. You should see Vasaqin, the captain of the empress’s bodyguards. Her left arm’s inked all the way to her fingers.
”I’ve sometimes heard that you get tattooed when you start school.”
Ren’i let out a bubbling laugh, the sound echoing from the cave walls. ”Well, not exactly. Good grief, what load of crap have they been feeding you people?” He shook his head, but couldn’t help smiling. ”We receive our first tattoos upon turning 26, as a sign of entering adulthood. It’s a great honour. This,” he said and reached over his shoulder to tap the image of Quan tattooed across his upper back clumsily, ”was mine. My father made it himself.”
Hawk looked. He couldn’t stop himself from looking now that Ren’i had given him permission. If Hawk were entirely honest with himself, the tattoos had roused his curiousity already that night when Ren’i had ended up bathing at the river with him and Ared. The image was in black and white, just like Ren’i’s other tattoos, and so skillfully drawn that the figure in it seemed alive. The sideview of Quan’s head was illustrated to blend in with the imperial lilac emblem, familiar from the red military flags. The image covered the left side of Ren’i’s upper back entirely. Next to it, right below his shoulder, was another, much smaller tattoo that Hawk recognised as the same symbol that was carved on Ren’i’s sword.
”Rowan,” he said, instinctively laying his hand on the two crossed sprigs. He only realised he’d touched Ren’i when he saw him shudder. ”Sorry. Is it sore?”
”No, no. It healed years ago.”
”You said it was your father’s crest.”
Ren’i nodded. ”It is. Children are tattooed to join their families, and I carry my father’s crest just as he carries my grandfather’s. This way we carry our roots with us, even if there might be centuries between generations.”
”It’s of fine make. Your father must be good with his hands.” Hawk was silent for a moment. On closer inspection the images were beautiful, each and every one of them. They conformed to the curves of Ren’i’s muscles softly, accentuating the best sides of their bearer’s body. ”What are these others?”
”You really want to know?” Ren’i sounded taken aback.
”I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.”
Ren’i laughed again. He felt heat creeping to his face for some reason. ”Well, this one’s easy,” he said and patted the image of the flame. ”Quan’s flame. My father made it before I left on this campaign.” He pointed at the symbols of his military rank below it: lines and the eight-pointed star pierced by a sword. ”The star is the mark of the commander-in-chief. The others I received with my previous promotions.”
Hawk looked at the eight swords forming a circle underneath them. ”And this?”
”The symbol of the imperial army. Everyone who finishes their military service gets one.”
”I suppose these won’t be the last ones for you.”
”I sure hope not. I’d have a pretty bleak future ahead if that were the case.” Ren’i grinned, teeth flashing. ”Tattoos are added when something noteworthy happens in one’s life. Promotion, new profession, marriage, children… You know.”
The glow of fire made Ren’i’s skin glow, too. It was hard to tear his eyes off of it, Hawk realised.
”Hey… Have you still had more of those same dreams?” he asked once he managed to find his voice again.
”Not since we… Well, you probably remember.” Silence. ”What about you?”
”No. I don’t recall seeing any dreams at all since the attack.”
Hawk pretended to tend the fire while Ren’i got dressed. He tossed some new branches in the flames, causing a shower of sparks.
”You never told me why you didn’t just leave me to manage on my own,” he said and felt Ren’i staring at his back. ”I thought soldiers were trained to do so. That the wounded are left behind.”
Ren’i was quiet. Just as Hawk thought he wasn’t going answer at all, he said in low tones, ”you had the chance to leave me to die, too, yet didn’t. I suppose we’re even now.” He got up, fastened the sword to his belt and took a deep breath. ”And regardless of what you think about me, I’ve never hated you, and I don’t hate you now, either. I want you to know that.”
He left, leaving Hawk alone by the fire.
It took a long time for Hawk to crawl into his sleeping bag and lie down, and even longer still before he’d calmed down enough to pass out. Ren’i’s words followed him all the way to his dreams, and he woke up in the dead of the night with his heart hammering. The instinct from before told him that Ren’i kept watch at the mouth of the cave, though Hawk could not see him from where he was resting.
He understood what it meant even without asking, though he’d never felt the same with anyone before. The feeling was too strong for him to mistake it; every akheri had heard enough stories about it to recognise it for what it was, should it ever happen to them personally. The thought made his heart skip a beat.
It’s not possible. He’s not even akheri, Hawk told himself sharply.
That did nothing to make the feeling abate.
When sleep came again, it came while wondering what the touch of Ren’i’s lips would feel like against his own. Images, each more restless than the one before, followed him all the way to his dreams, images of warm skin and fingers entangled with his own, and he couldn’t look Ren’i in the eye the next morning. It made being in his constant presence awkward, and Hawk felt like he couldn’t get a single word out while Ren’i was looking at him.
They reached the land bridge in oppressive silence, broken only by the howling of wind and the heavy beating of Hawk’s heart.
”Is everything all right?” Ren’i asked when they hadn’t exchanged a word for half the day.
”Everything’s perfect.” Hawk adjusted his hat without glancing at him. ”Let’s go. I want to go home finally.”
Ren’i’s mouth pursed into a taut line, but something in Hawk’s tone told him the conversation was over, and he said nothing more.