HOPE CREATES
© October 2003 by Charlotte Frost

 

 

PART ONE
 

Jim's arm tightened around Blair as a breeze blew across the prairie. They were on their backs, looking up at the stars, Blair's head resting on Jim's shoulder. Because of the surrounding grass, they'd had to forego a fire for fear that the wind might cause it to spread to the dry foliage. Thankfully, the night air wasn't very cold for winter this far south, despite the gusty breezes.

Blair's arm came out from beneath their bearskins. "If you look," he said, pointing, "just to the left of the Anvil Cluster and a little higher, you can see a ball of stars." His cheek rubbed against Jim's bare shoulder as he looked up at him. "Do you see it?"

Jim had to study the sky a while before he thought he spotted where Blair meant. "Five stars tightly together?"

"Yeah, only the fifth one is really faint."

"Right. I see it."

"That's the Magician's Ball."

Jim's left hand rubbed up and down Blair's arm. They were both naked beneath the skins, and were lying on top of their single bedroll, which managed to protect both of them from the ground when they lay so closely together.

Jim asked, "The way they're grouped explains the ball part of the name. But why the magician?"

"There's a legend that magic comes from within that cluster," Blair explained. "That it's like a tunnel to another place. In the Northern Territory, there's a legend that in ancient times a flying machine came from that cluster of stars and landed here."

"Flying machine?"  Jim wondered what that would look like.

"Yes," Blair replied seriously. "In the army, some soldiers travel the land in machines. The people who came from the other side of that star cluster had learned how to make their machines fly, like birds. They flew so high that they were able to reach other stars."

Jim snorted. "That's quite a fancy story."

"Some think that the people on our world are descendants from those who came from the Magician's Ball."

"People in the Northern Territory," Jim clarified. It was no wonder that those in other parts of the Empire thought those in the Northern Territory a bit strange. Jim playfully tugged Blair's hair. He'd always have a soft spot for the North, for it was where his companion - for all things in his life - had come from. Before Blair, life had merely been something for Jim to endure before he was killed fighting for the Empire. Since meeting Blair, Jim found pleasure in day-to-day living. He was even enjoying Blair telling him about the stars, despite stories that were too fanciful to believe.

Blair didn't respond to the teasing. Instead, his arm shot out over Jim's chest, pointing upward. "And there... see where there's that group that sort of forms a cross?  Just below the right arm of the cross is that little swirl?  That's called the Dolphin Mist."

"Dolphin?" Jim repeated. "Like the sea creature?"

"Uh-huh."  Blair's arm now rested against Jim. "Because it looks like a group of dolphins swimming in the ocean."  He shrugged. "Or so they say."  Then, somewhat forlornly, "I've never seen dolphins myself."

"I haven't either."  But Jim hoped they would some day. He loved watching Blair experience the wonders of the world.

"It's said they stand for freedom. They look joyful when they're swimming so freely in the sea."

Jim smiled at Blair's musings.

"That would be a fantastic thing to see," Blair said quietly.

"Someday, we'll get to an ocean again," Jim assured. "And maybe we'll see dolphins."

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Blair smile. Then Blair rubbed his cheek against Jim's chest in a way that signaled he was going to get serious about sleeping.

Jim's arm tightened around Blair. With his other hand, he pulled the bearskins more closely around them. As his own eyes drifted shut, he wondered if their travels would ever introduce them to the free creatures of the sea.

---

Blair was getting a headache from constantly squinting.  He had a headband around his hair to keep it from blowing in his face. So far, he and Jim both had managed their travels without feeling a need for any kind of hat. But now, he wished he had protection from the sun that glared down on them from open prairie, which was broken only by the occasional grove of trees and small, dry hills. A mountain range paralleled them in the distance.

As Giant's long strides kept him in front of Jim and Red, Blair wondered how much longer this prairie land would continue. They were over three hundred miles south of the Timara region, which was outside the Empire's holdings. This area was only sparsely populated. Having completed their first mission as agents of the Empire three months ago, they were now on another mission to a supposed peasant settlement, Nemos, which was still another hundred miles away. They were to spy on the settlement to determine its true purpose, for the Empire's intelligence was worried that it was really a base for the region's own spy operations.

At least this mission promised to be duller than the one previous. Blair could handle dull. Their first mission had resulted in his killing Jim's estranged father in self-defense. It had taken Blair many weeks to stop seeing the expression on Magus's face after he'd first stabbed him. Now, through much meditation and faith in Bree, he felt he'd reached a truce within himself over what circumstances had caused him to do. Jim's complete support and lack of condemnation had helped tremendously - so much so that they had decided to forego the temptation to leave the Empire's employment and travel to new lands. Instead, they had accepted another mission while they were still on the east side of the Channel, which separated the Empire's main continent from the Timara region.

After that first mission, they both had reasons to want to learn more about their parents - Blair his father, and Jim his mother. However, the call of the unknown - and what adventures awaited them - ended up being stronger in both than learning about their pasts. So, Jim had buried various papers from his father's castle in a carefully marked spot on this side of the Channel. Someday, if they changed their minds, they could dig up the papers and pursue their quests of returning to their childhood homes.

"Chief."

Blair shifted in his saddle at the distant-sounding word and was surprised to see how far back Jim and Red had fallen behind. He shortened his reins and turned Giant around.

Jim was hunched awkwardly over his saddle. "We have to stop. I'm not feeling very good."  He turned Red to the right, where there was a sparse cluster of trees a quarter-mile away, indicating water was nearby.

Feeling guilty that he hadn't been more attuned to his pledgemate, Blair sent Giant into a trot until they caught up with Jim. "What's wrong?"  He studied the weary expression on Jim's face.

"I feel weak."  Jim drew a deep breath. "I just want to lie down and rest."

Blair nodded, not letting his worry show. "No problem. Let's get ourselves settled in the shade."  He desperately hoped this was nothing more than a mild illness. Jim always seemed so strong and capable....

Blair led the way now, cutting through the taller and greener grass to reach a small clearing shaded by trees. From behind him, Jim said, "My gift - it keeps going in and out."

Blair's mouth fell open. Oh, no. But he kept his voice cheerful. "What do you mean exactly?"  He halted Giant and dismounted. Then he went to Jim and hovered while Jim staggered from his saddle.

Jim wiped sweat from his forehead, then bent at the waist to rest his hands on his knees. He finally looked up at Blair. "I think I hear something from far away. And then all I hear are sounds close to me - like I used to in the Before time."

Though Jim had never used that word before, Blair knew what he meant. The time before his gift - the time before they had met in Sanctuary and discovered that they were each other's greatest strength.

"Then," Jim continued after taking a weary breath, "I hear far-away sounds that suddenly seem loud. It's the same with my other senses."

"Okay, that's probably just your illness affecting them that way."  Blair put his arms around Jim's waist. "You said you wanted to sleep, so that's what you're going to do."  He guided Jim into a sitting position beneath the nearest tree, not liking the unnatural warmth of Jim's body. "Rest there while I get the bedding."  He squeezed Jim's arm. "I'll take care of everything, Jim. Don't you worry about a thing except resting."

Jim rolled onto his side, curling into a fetal position with his hands folded beneath his cheek. He closed his eyes.

Blair tried not to worry as he began unpacking their belongings from the horses. He didn't have a lot of experience with illness. He suddenly realized what an ironic thought that was. Months ago, he'd gone to Sanctuary to die of the incurable Keetan's Disease. Instead, he'd cured himself with his visualizations. Of course, that was all the mighty Bree's doing. He knew within his heart that Bree had given him the disease so he would go to Sanctuary and find Jim.

Now he and Jim were pledged and all things to each other.

After Blair had their belongings unpacked, he unfurled the bedroll and laid it next to Jim. He shook Jim's shoulder. "Jim?"

Jim slept on.

Blair sighed and shifted to grab Jim from underneath his armpits. "Jim, come on, buddy."  He pulled at him, guiding him toward the bedroll. "Jim!"

Jim groaned and his eyes cracked open.

"Come on, Jim, get on the bedroll."  The ground would get cold at night and it looked like Jim intended to sleep straight through the afternoon until the following dawn.

Jim lethargically moved on top of the bedroll. Then he grunted and fell back to sleep.

Blair spent a moment loosening Jim's clothing. Afterwards, he covered him with one of the bearskins.

He straightened and looked around. To the west - opposite from the road - was a rocky slope and sparse vegetation. Blair let out a breath of frustration. Normally, they didn't have to search for water, because Jim was always able to detect it, even from nearly a mile away.

Now, Blair was on his own. He took the reins of both horses and led them up the slope. From there, he spotted a creek below. He cursed as he saw the rugged way down. His only other option was to go around, and that would take a lot longer than he had the patience for.  

He started down.

It was dusty and slippery with loose rock, but the angle was gentle enough that Blair was able to remain upright. The horses moved with him but didn't attempt to overtake him, as though realizing he needed to be allowed time to pick his way down.

He let out a breath of relief when his boots reached the grassy bank. A few more steps and he was beside the stream. He stood aside so the horses could drink. Once they were slurping the fresh water, he let go of their reins, knowing that they wouldn't go anywhere. He took the first canteen from Red's saddle and started to fill it.

He had no idea what was wrong with Jim. Hopefully, a good rest would be the best remedy for whatever ailed him.

Abruptly, both horses' heads shot up and their ears pricked forward. They stared out into the valley that stretched out before them.

Blair stood and looked around, but he couldn't see anything. He regretted not having Jim's gift. His apprehension increased as the horses began to fidget.

Blair realized the horses were about to bolt. He dropped the canteen and grabbed for Red's reins, since she was nearest him. Aware of galloping hooves in his ears and the ground vibrating, he reached around Red for Giant's reins, but Giant was already turning away and trotting off.

"Giant!" Blair called, but the horse's trot had turned into a gallop, as he headed back around the slope from which they'd descended.

From both sides, and in front of him, Blair saw six riders, in pairs, approaching at full gallop. He had no idea who they were, but the horses were short and quick, and the riders wore capes and hoods.

His one avenue of escape was going back up the slope he'd descended. He'd never outrun these men; by retreating, he'd lead them straight to Jim, who was in no condition to defend himself, let alone both of them.

Blair thought of the knife at his belt, but he could hardly hold off six charging riders.

He leapt into Red's saddle and kicked her harshly, prompting her to leap across the stream and into a hard gallop down the valley, from which two of the riders were directly approaching.

Heart in his throat, Blair angled between the riders in front of him and those to his left. He kicked Red harder and galloped through the opening between those two pairs.

He heard their agile horses slow and turn, to follow right behind.

What could he do?  He knew Red couldn't outrun six horses for long.

The best thing he could do was to keep them moving away from Jim.

They were beginning to overtake him, one pair at each of his flanks. From the corner of his eye, he could see that they were bearded and grinning, as though enjoying the chase.

Blair thought about vaulting from the saddle to the ground, but they would surely just come right after him, and he would be even more vulnerable on foot. He didn't know what they wanted, but it wasn't the horses. All six were chasing him; none were going after Giant.

Please, Bree, he prayed.

Red was tiring. Blair felt a sense of despair as the rider to his right reached out and grabbed Red's reins, near the bit. The rider on his left grabbed Blair's knife from its sheath as they all slowed.

Out of options, Blair knew he had nothing to gain by resisting. He let Red be pulled to a halt. The other pair of riders that had gone to the right were now joining them.

"He has a knife!" the rider on his left declared, laughing, as he held it up.

"No doubt to defend himself from his master's advances!" another laughed.

Blair's hair was grabbed and pulled, making him yelp. "Your master gives you many privileges," the one on his right said, as gleeful as the others. "No doubt, you please him well when he demands it."

Blair's heart sank. They thought he was a slave - even this far south of the Timara region -- simply because he looked similar to the people of Tava, the small country that bred slaves in the Timara region, far to the north.

He had even acted as Jim's slave on his last mission - since so many thought he was, anyway. After the mission was over, Jim had removed the bracelet that said "Property of Jim Ellison."  He wondered if it would matter now if he'd been wearing the bracelet. These men seemed to assume that he already had a master, but they didn't care.

No, it wouldn't have mattered. They were slave robbers.

As he endured the indignation of their taunts, gropes and grabs, he wondered if he should tell them he was an agent of the Empire and prove it by showing them the brand between his toes. But he didn't see why they would believe it or particularly care. Blair knew that he didn't carry himself with the regal, confident air of an agent of the Empire. It was helping Jim use his gift that was his real talent.

Please get well, Jim. Then come and find me.

The man on his left grabbed Blair's hair so cruelly that Blair cried out again. The man was suddenly serious and warned, "If you try to escape, we will tie you to your horse. And then our long journey will be very uncomfortable for you."

"I won't try to escape," Blair assured in a hoarse whisper, as his throat was completely dry. Long journey. His thundering heart sank.

How far away would they take him?

Please, Bree. Help Jim find me.

Another rider took control of Red's reins and they all cantered off.

When Blair's eyes watered, he knew it wasn't solely from the wind.

---

Jim shifted when he felt a tickle at his cheek. The tickle persisted and he realized that the texture of it was wrong. As he came awake he was aware of being cold and alone. The usual warmth of Blair's body was not pressed against him.

He and Blair never slept apart.

Jim opened his eyes and saw darkness.

An equine smell assaulted his nostrils and there was another tickle along his face.

Jim reached up and encountered smooth fur covering bone. Distinct lips. "Giant," he said in surprise, sitting up.

He felt a wave of weakness as he rose. Then he remembered. He had been suddenly overcome by lethargy and had needed to rest. He and Blair had come to this grove of trees....

Jim staggered to his feet, bracing himself against Giant. "Blair?"  

Heart pounding with the realization that something was very wrong - Giant was still saddled and bridled - he called, "Blair!"

Nothing.

"BLAIR!"

Silence.

No.

The greatest loneliness Jim had ever known had been when he was captured by the enemy while a solder in the Empress's army. He had been surrounded by hate for nearly two months. The only weapon he had against despair was his will to survive, day by day, moment by moment.

This stillness surrounding him felt like that. Except... now it was only the loneliness.

"No," Jim cried softly. He scurried farther up the slope. He realized that he could see in the darkness. Not as well as usual, but his heightened sight was behaving better than it had earlier when it was affected by the intense lethargy.

His bedroll was beneath the tree and he'd been covered by a bearskin. Other supplies were nearby, but there was no sign of a campfire. There was no sign of Red.

Or Blair.

Jim's mind filled with images of Blair.

He had never been a man who thought himself capable of loving another. He certainly didn't deserve all Blair had given him in these seven wonderful, loving months they had known each other.

Maybe Blair had simply... left.

No.

Blair would never do something like that. He would certainly never sneak off without facing Jim.

Jim looked at Giant. Blair loved Giant. He wouldn't leave and take Jim's horse instead of his own.

Jim's chest tightened. What could have happened?

He took Giant by the reins, leading him up the rocky slope, hoping he could see the surrounding area. He took out his pocketwatch and had to focus a moment before he could read the numbers. It was two o'clock in the morning. That had to be some twelve hours since they'd stopped earlier this afternoon.

Was it this afternoon?  Or some other afternoon?

Jim shook his head as he crested the hill. He didn't feel particularly hungry. Nor thirsty. He felt weak, but nothing like he had before he went to sleep. He doubted more than twelve hours had gone by.

He looked down into the valley below. His sight was zooming in and out, and he had to close his eyes, take a deep breath, and command himself to relax.

His throat tightened as he considered that he may never again hear Blair give him directions about how to use his gift.

What's happened to you?

In the distance, he recognized the road they had been taken through the prairie. He spent a while scanning it but couldn't see anything helpful. He turned around and looked down the other side. There was a grassy valley there, split by a narrow stream.

There was a canteen lying by the stream.

Jim mounted Giant and encouraged him down the slope. When he reached the stream, he dismounted and studied the canteen. It looked like it had been abandoned.

He studied the hoof prints that went away from the stream. Red had a special shoe on one of her back feet, to protect a cracked hoof. The special shoe print was distinct and Jim started to follow it, leading Giant.

He moved faster and faster, realizing his head was pounding, and the more he stared at the prints in the darkness, the more he felt like his head was going to split in two.

Then he saw that there were many hoof prints.

Somebody had taken Blair.

Perhaps Blair had tried to get away, and had mounted Red because she could sprint faster than Giant.

Blair had needed help and Jim hadn't been there. He had failed his pledge to Blair that he would always protect him.

But he would get Blair back. He had to.

Yet, his headache was so strong that he had to squeeze his eyes shut. He couldn't keep this up. Something was wrong with his gift. Perhaps it was, as Blair had suggested when they'd stopped, tied to an illness which was otherwise marked only by a mild fever and feeling exhausted.

Jim stopped, squatting by the tracks, and hung his head. He was getting nowhere. He would have to wait until daylight to follow the tracks.

Cursing his body's weakness, he decided that he needed to collect the supplies. Then he needed to eat and relieve Giant of his tack for a few hours. Jim knew that was why Giant had returned to him - because he and Blair always kept a canister of sweet grain with their supplies. They never had to worry about the horses running very far off, for they loved their sweet feed at the end of a long day.

Jim remembered telling a fellow soldier once that being captured by the enemy was like feeling that the whole world had crumbled around you, and that everything you had once known and counted on no longer applied. There was only yourself, feeling lower than life's lowest station, your enemy's hatred, and your own determination to survive.

Now, Jim felt all those things. He wondered if Blair was feeling those things, too.

---

Simon Banks shifted in his saddle. He should have picked a spot to stop for the night before sunset, but he was determined to keep going and cover a few more miles. Though the Empire usually assigned him assassinations, this time all he had to do was pass along a pouch of information to another agent - if he could find him.

His travels had brought him south, and he had only a vague description to go by from the people in various villages he had passed through. The agent only went by the name Rhio and he no doubt used other aliases. That was always the toughest part of finding other agents. Once found, the only way to be absolutely sure that they were an agent was to see the Empress's brand, for all agents for the Empire were branded with the Empress's secret insignia.

Simon caught the sound of laughter in the distance. He wondered where the noise was from, since he'd thought he was some fifteen miles from the next village. As he rode on, more laughter sounded. Eventually, he rounded a bend and saw torches in the distance. They surrounded a community of tents. The largest tent looked as though it could easily hold twenty men. That was the source of the laughter.

As Simon got closer, he could see the elegant trimmings on the tents. These were rich men, probably one of the feared raider tribes that traveled in these parts, and which were accustomed to taking whatever they wanted. When they weren't stealing, they often fought amongst themselves.

They sounded like they had something special for entertainment tonight. Simon had been in enough taverns and brothels to know that the sound of men anticipating pleasure had a certain ring to it. He hadn't traveled in these parts often but he knew a little about the people here. Orgies weren't uncommon - the more the merrier. They usually preferred a slave or recent captive for the focus of activity. He remembered hearing one tale of a village where all the virgins were taken in a single raid - and such captives were expected to entertain all the men in a single night.

As Simon entered the area, he heard their laughter reach a crescendo. No doubt, they were headed toward drunkenness. Still, they had an amazing ability to perform, even when inebriated. Often, they become inebriated for the very purpose of prolonging their enjoyment.

A slave girl drew water from a well and barely gave Simon a glance. Raider tribes enthusiastically welcomed strangers, but Simon had no interest in participating in their orgy. While he only wanted shelter for the night, a slave girl would be a nice addition to his bed.

He grimaced. Ever since separating from his friends and fellow agents - Jim and Blair - a couple of months ago, he felt guilty every time he considered pleasuring himself with a slave. Blair in particular had an indignation about slavery and Simon knew it went beyond the simple fact that, upon first meeting Jim and Blair, he had mistaken Blair for a Tava slave. Blair had eventually forgiven him but he still felt that slavery was wrong - for all cultures. But then, Blair was from the Northern Territory of the Empire, and everyone knew that the northern people's ideas made no sense to anyone but themselves.

More laughter roared from the tent as Simon pushed aside the curtain that acted as a doorway. There were over a dozen men in the room, seated on cushions in a circle. The men nearest him looked up and Simon nodded politely at them. "I am a weary traveler and would appreciate shelter for the night."

A man farther away raised his glass and saluted Simon. "Come in, traveler!  Help us enjoy our newest acquisition."

A long-haired Tava slave, hands bound behind his back, was being pushed around the circle of men. He wore a simple robe, which Simon knew was all that covered his nudity. As the slave landed in each man's arms, he would be felt - usually beneath the robe - and then thrown to another man across the circle. The slave acted exhausted and he wasn't even trying to give the men entertainment with words or protests that would excite them further. In fact, he couldn't have been trained in Tava, for those slaves knew only how to give pleasure. Instead, the slave kept his face lowered, which allowed his hair to shield it.

The slave now landed in the arms of the man who had toasted Simon. The man stood up, grabbing the slave about the waist and shifted him so that his rear was to Simon. The host lifted the robe to expose pale buttocks, then one large hand parted them. The leader noted, "He is well-used for one who is in such good condition."

Yes. But Simon wasn't interested. Men weren't his preference and he certainly wasn't into group sex or orgies. However, he didn't want to offend his hosts. "He is a fine prize," he noted congenially, wondering where they had found such a slave this far south of Tava.

The leader raised his hand and brought it down hard on the bare buttocks. The impact was such that the slave fell onto his face on the ground and the men roared with laughter.

"He looks as though he is tired of our games," one noted excitedly.

"No doubt," the leader said, "he is ready for our activities to begin."  He straightened to look at Simon. "As our guest, you may have him first. Use him in any way you wish."

With a crowd cheering me on?  No, thanks.   Simon managed a smile. "I appreciate your offer. But I'm afraid my long day of travel has left me weary. Perhaps in the morning...."  I'll have a raging hard-on and not care about gender.

Another man stood, lifting his robe. "Then I will have him first. But I won't spoil him so quickly. Turn him around so that his mouth may pleasure me."  He pushed down the pants he wore beneath his robe.

"Tell me where I may rest," Simon prompted, while two others went to lift the slave to his knees. "Then I will turn in."

"Tell the girl at the well to prepare a bed for you."

"Will she be in it?" Simon wondered out loud, thinking he might not be so tired after all.

The man chuckled. "You only like the women, then."

"I admit I don't get much opportunity."

Out of the corner of his eye, Simon saw the slave turned so that he was facing the man who waited to be pleasured. The slave's head hung, and his chin was raised and his hair pulled back as the waiting man stepped closer.

Simon gasped. The slave was Blair.

---

Blair still had enough awareness to know what was happening. He couldn't go through with what they were forcing him to do, but his mind and soul were disconnected from his body, so he didn't protest as the rough hands on his chin raised his face to meet the erect cock that was held by the man in front of him.

He knew he was going to bite it and he wondered how harsh his punishment would be. Perhaps death. It would be a sin against Jim's love to die when there was a chance he could live, but he didn't even know if Jim was alive. He also knew that there was no way Jim could find him. After many hours of hard riding, he and his captors had come to a river and ridden down the shallow water for what seemed like a long time, before emerging onto the opposite bank. There was no way Jim - even with his gift - could track such a trail in water.

They had arrived here late in the night, and Blair had been tied to a post in a small tent and allowed to rest until dawn. After the sun came up, some of the raiders had come into the tent and taunted him and grabbed at him.  They spoke of looking forward to the evening's entertainment, when they could "have" him, sometimes fondling themselves as they said such. Blair's heart had pounded in fear and dread. His worst humiliation was from knowing that the horrified expression on his face only served to excite them further.

Toward evening, he had been bathed by a slave girl who hadn't responded in any way to his attempt to communicate. And then he'd been brought to this tent. It had crossed his mind to put up a fight, but he knew he couldn't escape from so many and any show of spirit would only arouse them all the more. Once he realized the men were getting drunk - while they threw him around among themselves like a sack of potatoes and felt him as though he were fruit to be purchased at a market - he hoped he might be able to slip out of the tent in an unguarded moment when they would be too inebriated to notice.

But that plan had vanished, too, for he was the constant center of attention. And now he was exhausted - physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually. The constant reminders that he wasn't a man - but only a possession to be fondled and teased and used - had affected him the way nothing else ever had. He knew Bree would forgive him for being willing to die so easily.

He only hoped Jim could forgive him too - if Jim was even alive.

Jim needs me, he thought distantly as the rough hands positioned his mouth and held his head up. If there's a chance that he's alive and we can be together again... I can't betray him, or his gift, with death. I pledged to be the keeper of his gift. As long as he's alive, it's my duty to be that keeper.

Blair's eyes watered. He wasn't going to bite the man's cock. He was going to have to accept....

Abruptly, all hands left him and Blair collapsed to the floor of the tent. This time there was no laughter.

The man was still standing there, but pulling his pants back up.

"That is why he is in such good shape, despite being well-used. His last master is the only one who has ever spoiled him."

Blair blinked. That voice was the one that he'd heard only in the past few minutes. A voice that hadn't yet laughed at him. One which sounded vaguely familiar, like somebody he'd recently known.

"Then he is indeed highly prized," the leader said.

"Yes," continued the new voice. "His prior master is my personal enemy. It will be a great victory for me to show him that I have his slave - a slave he has come to love. What do you want for him?"

Blair's mind was putting memories into place. Then the new voice chuckled in a distinct way that Blair recognized - Simon!

He wanted to rejoice, but he remained silent, his face in the dirt, as he tried to understand the conversation he was hearing. Was Simon buying him?  To rescue him?

Blair's heart soared. He made himself feel his physical body again, so that he would be ready to act as necessary.

"We caught him," another voice said in the tent. "We deserve to take our pleasure from him before selling him to you."

"Then he will be of no use to me," Simon said casually. "His value is in knowing that his master - my enemy - is the only one who has had him. My revenge will be in being the only other man who has enjoyed his beloved slave - and who will continue to enjoy him from this day forward. At least, until I tire of him and want him no more."

There were a few chuckles of understanding.

Blair furrowed his brow. Simon sounded so convincing... as though he believed what he said.

When he and Jim had first met Simon, Simon had expected sex from Blair because he had assumed Blair was a Tava slave, based upon his looks. Was it possible that Simon had secretly lusted after Blair all this time, even though he'd appeared to have no further interest, once he knew that Jim and Blair were pledgemates?

"What do you offer for him?" the leader asked.

"Information," was Simon's reply.

Blair noticed that the atmosphere in the tent changed abruptly. It was now tense.

"What kind of information?"

Blair could hear the sly smile in Simon's voice. "About the Gweb, the tribe that is your most dire enemy. From my travels, I've learned where they've been hiding recently. If you allow me to have the victory of owning my enemy's slave, I will give you information that will give you a victory over yours."

One thing Blair was sure of was that Simon didn't consider Jim his enemy. The two men had become fast friends on their prior mission. So this had to be a ruse.

There was more discussion. Then Blair felt himself grabbed and picked up. He was pushed toward Simon until he was kneeling before him.

He'd been keeping his head lowered, not wanting to face these men who had been tormenting him. Now, he needed the assurance that this really was Simon. Slowly, feeling himself blush at the men staring at him, he raised his face and tilted his head back, until the man standing over him came into focus.

Simon's fist smashed into his face.

---

Jim collapsed to his knees. It had been dark for hours - his second night without Blair. He had been up and down both sides of the river, in both directions, since that afternoon. Still, despite his senses working more consistently than they had earlier, he couldn't find any hoof prints emerging from the river.

He covered his face with his hands, wondering if he would ever see Blair again.

His heart ached as his mind flooded with images of all the things Blair had given him these past months - his smile, his joy, his support, his belief in his gift, his delight in both giving and receiving pleasure from Jim. Above all, his complete and unconditional love.

His heart.

Jim choked out a sob. He had been a fool to think he was a man who could ever hold on to all those good things. His life had always been meaningless, beyond his day-to-day instinct to survive. Then there had been seven months of bliss with Blair as his constant companion. Now, his life was cruelly meaningless once again.

All he had was the need to find Blair. It was the only goal that gave him motivation to keep breathing.

He raised his head and looked across the prairie that surrounded him in the darkness. In the distance were hills and cliffs. It would take a full day's travel to reach them and probably many hours to climb them. But such a climb would allow him to see for miles.

It was the only hope he had.

---

Blair's face throbbed as he was picked up and thrown onto the back of a horse. His hands were tied to the saddle.

He had no fight left. The one true friend he and Jim had met in their prior mission had turned out to be the worst sort of betrayer. The only kindness Simon had shown was telling the raiders to give Blair his jeans and boots, which he had struggled into beneath in his robe.

"I wish you would reconsider," the tribe's leader said, "and accept our hospitality for the night. You are weary."

"I've got a second wind," Simon chuckled. "Now that I have my enemy's slave, I'm eager to find that enemy and let him know that I have something that was once his. I'd like to get in a few hours of travel, at least."

"Very well. Have a safe journey."

"Thank you for the supplies and for allowing my new slave to have his horse back. Good luck with taking the Gweb."

"Your information has been most helpful. Farewell."

Blair's mind had been fuzzy and his head had been hanging ever since Simon punched him. Now, he realized the horse beneath him was moving. His eyes adjusted to the darkness and he took in the saddle and the horse's mane. As the parting conversation started to register, he realized that he was riding Red. Of course, with his hands tied to the saddle, Simon was in control of the reins.

Blair didn't know how long they'd been moving when he heard Simon's admonishment, "Stay awake, Blair."  Then, "We'll reach the river before long, then stop to rest. I want to make sure we're clear of these people."

Great, Blair thought with despair, then what happens?  Could Simon be considering raping him?  He had no way of knowing.

He longed for his old village life in the Northern Territory. There, he didn't have to worry about being treated as a slave or men wanting him. He had a warm bed to sleep in and an interesting life with his studies at the University.

Except... he'd been found to have the fatal Keetan's Disease. He'd gone to the peaceful woods of Sanctuary to die. There, he'd found Jim, who had been thought by the army to be mentally ill; when, in fact, he had the most valuable of gifts.

Now, Blair didn't even know where Jim was. Maybe Simon did. But Simon was hardly going to punch him in the face and then lead him to Jim.

Blair knew only that his life had once been blissful and now it was misery and despair. There was no one he could trust. They all thought him a slave. That seemed to be his destiny now that he was far from home and his appearance made others assume him to be not a man, but a possession.

With detached interest, he watched a tear fall from his face to Red's mane.

"All right," Simon said, "I think we'll be safe here for the rest of the night."

Their horses stopped. Blair heard the shallow river nearby. Through the strands of his hair, for his face was still lowered, he saw Simon dismount and come toward him with a knife.

"Dammit, Blair," Simon said angrily, bringing the knife up to Blair's hands and cutting the rope, "why the hell did you look up at me like that?  I had to punish you for looking a master in the eye or they would have been suspicious. You should know better since you've pretended to be a slave before."

Know better? Blair raged, his hands now free. The anger welled up full force. "I'm NOT a slave!!" he choked as loudly as his dry throat would allow. He staggered from the saddle, landing in a heap when his legs collapsed beneath him.

"Easy, kid," Simon soothed, reaching toward him.

Hands felt him and crawled up his robe. Squeezed his privates. Poked at his anus. And then tossed him across the floor to yet another pair of hands.

From where he sat on the ground, Blair lashed out with his hands and feet, slapping and kicking in a circle around him. Only a few of his blows landed.

When he was exhausted - now only fighting empty air - he pulled himself into a tight ball and choked out, "Stay away from me. Stay away."  He couldn't even find the energy to yell, so it came out as an indignant plea.

His face connected with his drawn-up knees. That hurt, so he shifted so that his forehead rested against them. He began trembling all over. All he wanted to do was crawl in a hole and hide so that nobody would ever look at him again, and make assumptions and judgments about him because he had the appearance of a Tava slave.

Jim had only looked at him with love.

He shook harder and didn't try to stop the tears that fell.

"Dammit, Blair," Simon said incredulously, "did you really think I was buying you for myself?"  He was squatting near Blair, but no longer reaching toward him.

Though he felt some hope regarding Simon's intentions, Blair was shaking too hard to answer.

"Where's Jim?"  Simon's voice was gentle now.

Blair shook his head and choked out, "I don't know. He might be dead."  He raised his head and pulled himself together. He dared to trust Simon again and described how he had come to be captured.

"I doubt he's dead," Simon said kindly. "I've heard of the sleeping sickness in these parts. It comes from a plant. When ingested, the person is overcome with fatigue. All they have to do is sleep it off for a few hours.  With Jim's extra sensitivity, maybe they affected him more strongly."

Blair's hope increased. "We didn't eat any plants the past few days. But maybe his sense of smell was affected by them and it was the same to him as if he'd eaten them."

"I suppose that's possible."  Simon shifted. "We'll find him, Blair."

Blair's throat tightened, even as he felt a surge of hope.

"There's nothing we can do until daylight. We're both exhausted and we need to rest while we can."  Simon stood. "I want to give you a cold compress to put on your eye, so the swelling isn't as bad in the morning."  Then, softly, "I really am sorry about that, Blair."

He moved to Red and took a rolled-up blanket from the back of the saddle. A moment later, he unfurled it. "Wrap yourself up in this. I don't have a sleeping roll like you and Jim are used to."

Blair took the blanket. He spent a moment laying it out and then rolled himself up in it. He realized that his anger and despair were gone. Now, his emotions were too exhausted to feel anything at all. Yet, he was optimistic that Jim was alive and they'd be reunited.

His worry shifted to wondering what Jim was going through. What had Jim thought when he woke up and found Blair gone?  How had Jim been able to search for him if his senses were acting up because of the "sleeping sickness"?  What if Giant had run off and Jim could only try to track him on foot?  

What was Jim thinking at this very moment?  

It hurt to think that Jim was feeling even lonelier than he, for Jim didn't have the benefit of Simon's help and companionship.

Blair reached up and felt the necklace of shells around his neck, which Jim had made for him months before when they'd been at the ocean, on the west side of the Channel. He was grateful it had survived his ordeal the past two days. He clutched it tightly.

Simon walked up and held out a cloth to Blair. "Take this and put it over your eye."

It was cold and wet with water from the stream. Blair did as he was told, wincing at the weight on his sensitive flesh.

With his other eye, Blair looked at Simon. "Thank you. I mean... for everything."

Simon nodded. "Get some rest, kid."

Blair found as comfortable a position as he could, while making sure he didn't dislodge the cloth over his face. As he closed his eyes, painfully aware of spending yet another night without Jim, he prayed, Thank you, Bree. Thank you for sending Simon to rescue me. Now please help us find our way to Jim.

---

Jim nudged Giant forward. The range of hills and cliffs stretched for over a mile. He had spent his third night without Blair. Now it was after noon, and he investigated yet another view, sending his more cooperative sight down into the plains and valleys below. He would study every inch he possibly could, looking for any signs of civilization. Finding none, he would move Giant forward another quarter mile before trying again.

This time, he saw two horses in the distance. 
  

---

Blair berated himself for not paying more attention to landmarks after he was captured. His and Simon's plan was to backtrack the path the raiders had taken when bringing Blair to their tent. Surely, Jim was trying to follow that same path. Therefore, it was inevitable that they should find each other.

But Blair wasn't sure from which direction he had come to the raider's camp. He had to keep stopping and looking around. Once making a decision, he didn't have much confidence that he was choosing the right course. The only thing he had absolute confidence in was that Bree would guide him to Jim. He just knew that sometimes Bree's time schedule wasn't in line with man's wishes.

A sound echoed out from the mountain range to their right.

In front of him, Simon pulled up his horse and asked, "What was that?"

"I don't know," Blair said, looking around.

The noise came again.

"Sounds like a whistle," Simon said. He grabbed his binoculars from his saddlebags.

Blair tried to follow where Simon was looking with the binoculars. All he saw was the rocky mountain range. But the whistle continued every fifteen seconds.

"There he is!" Simon announced. He waved his hand in the air. "It's Jim!  He's waving down at us."

Blair sagged with relief. And then anticipation consumed him.

Simon held out the binoculars to him. "Want to see?"

Blair kicked Red into a gallop. He didn't want to see Jim. He wanted to be with him.

---

As the two horses galloped toward him, Jim collapsed into a crouch. It had been a long time since he'd felt emotion like this. Maybe he never had.

As he felt his throat close - having no shame in his relief and joy at finding Blair - he considered that perhaps there really was a god and that Blair somehow had a connection to Him. Obviously, Simon and Blair had somehow met up and that could have only have been to Blair's advantage. And now Jim's.

It would be at least an hour before they made it up the mountain. Jim considered riding Giant down to greet them, but then they would just have to come back up here to their campsite, so that didn't make a lot of sense. Instead, he focused on securing the campsite and started a fire. This was a safe place because it there was so much visibility in all directions. They would be able to see anyone coming.

For now, Jim couldn't think past the immediate future. All he knew was that he wanted Blair in his arms and to never let him go. He wanted to be with him and not have to think about anything else. At least, Blair looked unharmed, though it was hard to tell from this distance, even with his gift. Still, if Blair could ride, he couldn't be seriously injured. But Jim knew that his own soul needed a chance to heal after this separation and Blair might be feeling likewise.

As he waited, Jim also started thinking ahead. He never wanted to be parted from Blair again. He was determined that they would never be out of each other's sight. He didn't care if that wasn't realistic in the long run. Anything seemed preferable to ever again waking up and finding himself alone - with no knowledge of how Blair had been taken from him.

This time, luck had been on their side. Jim never wanted his and Blair's future together to have to count on luck again.

---

It was early afternoon when Jim heard horses approaching. He moved near the trail where the sound was coming from. Finally, Red's chestnut coat crested the tree-lined plateau.

"Jim!"  Blair leapt from the saddle and ran toward him.

Jim silently noted Blair's black eye as he held his arms open. A moment later Blair was in them, and all Jim knew was bliss as he held Blair tightly against him, Blair's head resting on his shoulder.

Blair was shaking all over even as he squeezed Jim in a bear hug. Jim lowered them both to a kneeling position. He opened up his sense of smell and touch, savoring the feel and scent of his pledgemate beneath the sweat and grime.

"Are you hurt?" Jim finally managed to ask. But he didn't want to loosen his arms to allow Blair to talk, so he rested his cheek on top of Blair's head and looked at Simon, who stood holding both horses' reins.

"I think his eye is the worst," Simon said. "I'm the one who did that to him, because I had to play along with his captors."

Even without knowing the circumstances, Jim understood Simon's statement. When in enemy hands, one did what one had to do to survive - no matter how unpleasant.

"Other than that," Simon continued, "he's probably just sore and bruised."

"Who were they?" Jim asked, still holding Blair tight against him, for Blair was still shaking.

"One of the wealthy, nomadic tribes around these parts. They take great pride in seizing whatever they want."  He shifted uncomfortably. "They assumed Blair was a slave. I happened to stumble upon their camp by accident. I was able to 'buy' him back, because I had some valuable information on their arch enemy."

Jim had never known such a loyal friend. "I'll never be able to repay you...," he began gruffly.

Simon smiled. "Seeing you two together again is payment enough."

Jim swallowed thickly. He loosened one arm just enough to rub it up and down the back of Blair's robe. "What did they do to him?"

Simon looked uncomfortable again. "Made him the main entertainment for one of their orgies."

No!  He squeezed Blair tighter.

"I was able to buy him back before anything serious happened."

Dear Bree, thank you.

Simon hesitated. "I think he got put through quite a bit of humiliation."

Memories flooded Jim's mind. Being in enemy hands. All rights taken away. Hatred all around.

Blair turned his head so that he was resting with his cheek on Jim's shoulder. But his eyes were still squeezed tightly shut. "Their hands were all over me," he said in a strained voice. "It seemed to go on and on. And they were laughing. Then they lifted my robe...."  He threw his arms around Jim's neck and sobbed into his shoulder, trembling.

Jim closed his own eyes. Not Blair. Not Blair. Of all the people who didn't deserve treatment like that....

"I wasn't a man," Blair cried against Jim's neck. "I was treated lower than livestock."

Jim wasn't sure what comfort he could offer, except his closeness, unconditional acceptance... and his understanding.

"Blair," he whispered.

Simon turned away and saw to the horses.

Blair finally pulled back to rest his head on Jim's shoulder again. This time, his eyes were open, watching Jim. Voice quavering, he said, "I don't know how I could have escaped. Yet, I feel ashamed of myself. Like I did something wrong by letting them capture me and....," he closed his eyes as a shudder went through him, "touch me like that."

Jim's heart twisted. "Blair," he admonished in his most gentle tone. "You didn't do anything wrong because you were outnumbered by men stronger and better armed than you."  He pushed Blair's hair away from his face, restraining a wince at the bruising all around Blair's eye. "I don't know much about slavery but I know about war and prisoners. Prisoners are, first and foremost, subjected to humiliation to keep them feeling inferior and stripped of all dignity and belief in themselves."  He pulled forth a memory that he'd kept long hidden.  "I've told you before that I've been held in enemy hands."

Blair nodded against his shoulder, watching him intently.

"Once, I was stripped naked and tied to a post in a village. For days, with no food or water. The people threw their sewage at me. The children threw rocks at me and kicked me."

Blair's eyes deepened with compassion. "Jim..."

"It was a long time ago," Jim soothed.

Now realization dawned in Blair's eyes. "You understand."

"Yes. I-I think so."    

Blair's eyes darted away from him. "If Simon hadn't come when he did, I would have - "   He squeezed his eyes shut.

Jim took Blair gently by the chin and waited until Blair opened his eyes. "You would have done what you needed to do to survive. And that means doing what those men wanted."

Blair's eyes closed again. "Yes," he choked out, fresh tears leaking beneath his eyelids.

Thankfully, it hadn't come to that. But who knew what the future held. Jim brushed his thumb along Blair's cheek, needing his mate to understand something. "Blair."

After a long moment, Blair opened his eyes.

Jim looked into those troubled orbs. "I will never, never judge or condemn you for anything you have to do to stay alive. No pride or outward show of faithfulness is worth your life. I know your faithfulness and pledge is in your heart."

Blair eyes filled again but this time he didn't hide away. Instead, his trembling hand reached up and touched Jim's face. "For you, too?" he prompted in a hoarse whisper.

"Yes," Jim promised. "No matter how dire the circumstances, I'll always choose life over leaving you alone."

Blair's body sagged and he turned his face back into Jim's shoulder. Jim tightened his arms around him. What he hadn't told Blair of his prisoner-of-war days was the aftermath of being rescued. Jim's injuries and illnesses had been efficiently and impersonally treated by the army physicians, and then he'd been subjected to interrogation by superior officers, who insisted upon knowing everything he could tell them about the enemy.

There had been nobody to hold him.

Jim's arms tightened further. The one thing he always wanted Blair to be sure of was that no matter what separations happened in their future together, Blair could always be secure that returning to Jim meant returning to love.

"Jim?"

Jim relaxed his grip and looked into Blair's eyes.

"How are you?" Blair asked.

Jim felt his face break into a smile. "I'm wonderful."  But he knew what Blair meant and he explained, "I was still somewhat tired and feeling groggy when Giant woke me up in the middle of the night and you were gone. It was a couple of days before I felt back to normal and my gift was behaving. I don't know what was wrong with me but I'm all right now."

"Simon thought it was the sleeping sickness," Blair told him, and then explained what that was.

It made sense to Jim. He remembered smelling a new type of plant when they passed through a meadow an hour before his fatigue set in.

As Jim studied Blair's tired eyes, he admitted, "I never again want to wake up and find you gone."  He firmed his jaw, feeling tightness around his mouth.

Blair swallowed audibly. "All I could think of when the raiders were after me was to ride away from you, so they wouldn't find you when you couldn't defend yourself."

Jim closed his eyes. Of course, Blair would have been thinking of him. But that was all over now. They could afford to take the time to heal the wounds caused by their separation. He tightened his grip around Blair's back. "Come on, over by the fire. We'll rest as long as you need."

Blair's fingers gripped Jim's shirt as Jim helped him stand. "Don't let go of me."

"I won't."

Jim guided Blair to the waiting bedroll and covered him with the bearskins. The afternoon air wasn't very cold, but he thought Blair would like the comfort of familiar things.

He thought about undressing Blair to help him relax. But considering what his pledgemate had been through, he was hesitant to do anything that would remind Blair of being grabbed and fondled. Jim remembered that for months after he'd been in enemy hands, sometimes the most trivial of things would cause him to experience a moment of panic and fear, as though he were back with the enemy.

He was grateful that Blair's captivity had been relatively brief and he'd been spared the worst indignation and injury that the raiders had intended to do. But he knew that Blair's soul had a delicate innocence about it - albeit not nearly to the extent as when they'd first met - and he wanted to let Blair tell him what he wanted or needed from him.

Though it was only afternoon, he curled around Blair, trying to provide the familiarity of their usual sleeping arrangement. After a moment, Blair shifted so that he was facing Jim and pressed himself against him, as though he wanted to hide in Jim's strong body.

Jim gently stroked his hair and back.

Simon came to stand near them, rifle and reins in hand. "I'm going to see if I can find dinner."

Jim nodded. He felt guilty that, between the three of them, he was the most rested and should be doing the most work around the campsite. But he couldn't bear to separate from Blair, and he knew that even if Blair fell asleep, he would likely awaken if Jim left him alone. "Thanks, Simon," he said.

"Don't thank me until I've actually caught something."  Simon mounted his horse and trotted off.

Blair pulled back from Jim's chest and looked up at him. "When I first realized Simon was there, I was so relieved. But after he bought me and then slugged me - because I looked up at him and slaves aren't supposed to do that - I thought he was a traitor and he might have the intention of raping me."  Blair grimaced. "I should have known better."

"Being punched in the face by a supposed friend would make it hard to know what to think," Jim sympathized.

Blair swallowed. "It's just that I know that Simon doesn't see anything wrong with slavery. Yet, if he - or anyone - spent just five minutes being treated like I was, slavery would be abolished all over the world. No one could possibly feel that it's okay for a man to be treated like that."

Jim released a sigh, his fingers still stroking Blair. "I think that's the problem. Most men don't recognize slaves as fellow men but instead, like you said, as even lower than livestock. Possessions with no feelings."

"It's insane," Blair said forlornly. "We treat our horses better."

Jim rubbed Blair's cheek with the back of his fingers. "Lots of the things that men do don't make any sense."

Blair relaxed and closed his eyes. "Life would be simple and peaceful if all of mankind man followed Bree's teachings."

Though he didn't believe in Bree, Jim knew a little of what Bree was said to have told man. "I suppose it would."

---

Blair slept off and on for the next few hours. Jim wasn't sure that Blair was sleeping deeply enough to dream but he'd occasionally jerk awake and grip Jim's clothing. He seemed to recognize who he was with almost immediately. Jim would murmur a soothing word or two, and Blair would close his eyes and relax again.

As the sun began to set, it was apparent that Blair was alert and not going to fall asleep again anytime soon. Jim shifted and, while keeping one reassuring hand on Blair's shoulder, reached to the pile of firewood and threw more on the fire. He arranged some of the logs to form a platform, and then grabbed a thick bowl with a handle.

"What are you doing?" Blair asked.

"How does a warm sponge bath sound?" Jim took a canteen and emptied it into the bowl, then placed it over the fire. "We can get some of that grime off of you."  He also wanted to examine whatever injuries Blair might have.

Blair didn't reply but he sat up, the furs still around him. "Where did Simon go?"

"To find a good meal for us. He probably had to go quite a ways back down the mountain. I haven't heard his rifle yet. Maybe he's lying in wait for a large target, like a deer."  Jim knelt beside Blair and touched the front of his robe. "Are you ready to take this off?"

Blair nodded hesitantly and lowered the furs. "Jim?"

Jim had started gathering the lower sections of Blair's robe and he paused to look into the troubled eyes. "Hmm?"

"I don't want Simon to see me."

Jim blinked. It was on the tip of his tongue to point out that, in addition to the fact that Simon wished Blair no harm, they'd all seen each other naked numerous times during their prior travels. In fact, early in their acquaintance, Jim suspected that Blair had outright flaunted his body at Simon - a body that only Jim was going to get to enjoy - to get back at him for initially mistaking Blair for a slave.

Blair lowered his eyes. "I realize now that, when they... displayed me," he squeezed his eyes shut and his lower lip trembled, "Simon was there. He saw me. The part of me that I've only let you see. The part of me that you've looked at only with love."  Blair drew a deep, shuddering breath. "I feel full of shame when he looks at me, knowing that he's seen my most secret part."

Jim knew there was nothing he could do or say to take that feeling away.

Blair's eyes still wouldn't open. "I wanted to die when they... showed me to everyone. Crawl in a hole and die."  

Jim placed his hand on top of Blair's bowed head. He whispered, "You got past the moment. Alive. That's all you can do in a situation like that:  focus on surviving the moment. And then the next. And the next. Each moment you survive is a victory - a triumph of your spirit."

Blair's eyes opened and he worked at blinking away their moisture.

"We'll keep you covered up," Jim assured. He now had the robe gathered and started to lift it. He was relieved when Blair raised his arms helpfully. As soon as he laid the robe aside, Jim pulled the furs around Blair's upper body.

"I shouldn't let them have power over me like this," Blair said, while Jim worked with his jeans. "Especially now that I'm back with you and my captivity is just a memory."

Jim was glad that Blair was voicing his feelings.

"I can't help it," Blair whispered a moment later, bowing his head again.

Jim raised Blair's chin and waited until Blair looked at him. "It'll get better with time. Trust me."

Blair managed a fleeting smile. "I do."

Jim released him and started pulling at Blair's jeans. Blair shifted and wriggled as necessary, until he was free of them. 
   
Using a thick stick, Jim lifted the bowl by the handle and steered it away from the fire, and onto the ground.  He shifted around Blair to reach for his saddlebags and pulled out a rag they used for washing.

Keeping one arm around Blair's back, he dipped the cloth in the water. "Let me know if this is too hot."  He gently dabbed at Blair's face, away from his eye.

"Feels good," Blair murmured.

Jim spent some time washing his face, not detecting any other injuries there, only dirt. He handed Blair the cloth, so he could wash around his black eye, since he'd know the places that were most sensitive.

Jim let the bearskin fall aside as he took the cloth back. He re-wet it, then moved the cloth down Blair's torso. He was confronted with an array of blue and purple bruises - from men who had put their unwanted hands on Blair.

Jim firmed his jaw. Up to now, his focus had been on his relief that Blair was back and Blair's emotional state. Now, he was confronted with his own sense of failure.

"I broke our pledge," he choked out, running the cloth up an armpit.

"What?" Blair asked softly.

"I pledged to you that I would protect you."

"Jim."  Blair's voice was gentle. "You were sick. You had no control over that."

Jim shook his head. "Doesn't matter."

Blair's voice firmed. "You no more broke your pledge to me, than I did to you by letting them see my backside."

"You didn't let them. It wasn't your choice."

"Nor was it yours to be sick."  Blair's voice was tender again. "I know what's in your heart, Jim Ellison. There, your pledge is pure. Just as mine is."

He wouldn't have expected Blair to say otherwise. Still, it felt good to confess his sin. As Jim worked on Blair's legs - skipping his crotch - his strokes became more leisurely caresses.

After a time Blair asked, "What are you thinking about right now?  You're smiling."

Jim realized it was true. "I'm remembering the moment I fell in love with you."

Blair sat up straighter, so he could lay his head on Jim's shoulder. "You remember an exact moment?"

Jim's smile broadened. "Yes."

"Tell me."

Jim let the cloth sit in the water. "When we were in Sanctuary and we thought you were dying, there was that moment when you... held onto me... wanted me to hold onto you."  Jim swallowed thickly, amazed himself at how strong the memory was. "You needed me. My whole life changed in that moment. I was somebody important. All there was, and had ever been, and would ever be, was you."

Blair gazed back at him, a loving smile on his face. "I will always need you, Jim Ellison."

With a lighter heart, Jim reached for the cloth and squeezed out the water. He shifted slightly. "Let me do your back."

Blair leaned forward and let the bearskin fall away.

"What about you?" Jim prompted, as he started on the back of Blair's neck.

Blair was thoughtful. Then, "There wasn't a specific moment for me, like there was for you. I just knew that you were noble and honorable. You had a goodness and kindness about you that I wouldn't have expected from a soldier. And... I sensed that you were a proud man; yet, you told me things that you were afraid of. I didn't think you were accustomed to revealing your inner self to another. So, I felt important to you."  He paused. "Yes, needed."

Jim washed along Blair's shoulders. "The only reason I told you those private things is because I thought you were dying, so I didn't need to be afraid of you ever using anything I'd said against me."

Blair straightened. "Fooled you," he stated playfully.

Jim restrained a chuckle. He reached up and ran the cloth along Blair's nose, as a gentle scold. Then he shifted to make room for Blair to lie down. "Stretch out."

Blair obeyed, and Jim was careful to cover up most of his body.

His humor left when he saw Blair's rear. His eyesight keyed in on the a red handprint across his buttocks, as though someone has smacked him there - hard.

How dare someone touch him like that.

Jim didn't want to get angry, with Blair being so sensitive. He gently used the cloth to wash what he yet hadn't. Blair was tensing, too, as though being touched in those areas reminded him all over again of his humiliation.

But he endured it.

"Sit up," Jim directed, relieved that he was almost done. He dipped the cloth in the water while loosely wrapping Blair back up. "Here," he said, handed him the cooling cloth. "Maybe you'd rather do the rest."

Blair quietly took it and put his arm inside the bearskins, shifting to wash himself.

A shot rang out, and Jim and Blair both looked up.

Jim tilted his head and his hearing picked up a familiar gruff voice say, "Got you!"  He told Blair, "Simon has found dinner."

---

Simon exhaled a satisfied sigh. He was stuffed. He'd managed to kill an antelope, and he and his companions had had a satisfying dinner, with enough meat left over to last them a few more days. Between a satisfied belly and getting little rest while searching for Jim, he was going to sleep soundly tonight.

Across the campfire, Blair was wrapped in the bearskins, sitting between Jim's legs. He leaned back against Jim, his head slumped against Jim's chest. He had been unusually quiet through dinner. Blair had looked as though he were listening while Simon and Jim discussed their current missions - without revealing secret, intricate details to each other - but Simon noticed that Blair would never look at him directly or meet his eye.

Every time Simon thought he had a handle on Blair, the young man would throw him a curve. He couldn't help but feel a touch hurt that Blair had thought that he intended to use him as a slave after he "bought" him.  But then, Blair obviously hadn't been playing with a full deck by that point. If he had, he would surely have realized he shouldn't try to look Simon in the eye, thereby violating a universal law between masters and slaves, and threatening Simon's cover as a traveler who wanted to purchase Blair.  He'd hating punching Blair, but the incident was past. Even Jim didn't seem to hold the ugly bruise on Blair's eye against Simon. He understood having to play roles to the fullest, when stepping outside that role could endanger one's life.

Blair didn't seem to hold the black eye against him, either. But he had been awfully skittish while in Simon's company. And unusually quiet. At least they'd both had the same goal - finding Jim - and no disagreement on how to go about it.

Now that Blair was back in Jim's arms, Simon wondered about the wisdom of a progeny of the Northern Territory being expected to act as an agent of the Empire. Blair hardly fit the role and Simon couldn't help but wonder what Premier Rachkins' staff and Jim, himself, had been thinking, to put a man such as Blair into this kind of dangerous life.

Granted, Blair had been forced to mature by leaps and bounds during their last mission together, and Simon had grown to respect him. But if Blair was so affected after being in the raiders' hands for hardly two days - and had even been able to avoid being raped by a group of men who had no concern for him other than the pleasure they could force from him - Simon again wondered at how Blair could possibly expect to survive in such harsh lands away from the Empire. Even if Blair's life proved to be a long one, what would become of his delicate soul?

Yet there was the wild card of Ellison's mysterious gift and how Blair assisted him with it - to the point where Blair almost seemed possessive of it, as though the gift were his own as much as Ellison's.  As Simon understood from what Ellison had told him, Blair had taught Jim how to control the gift. Yet, their need for each other - and their feelings - seemed to go far beyond that.

There were times in their prior travels when Simon had felt envious of their companionship, and certainly of the pleasure they gave to each other on a regular basis. It was almost painful to be awake while they coupled, for Simon couldn't help but be affected by their noises, emphasizing his own lack of a bedmate.

Yet, he knew that, in observing them together, there was some basic goodness - a benefit to his soul - that he couldn't understand well enough to put into words. He was content to let the knowledge go unspoken. It was enough that it was the truth.

Blair looked up at Jim and they spoke softly to one another. Jim nodded and he carefully lay Blair down on his back. He squeezed Blair's shoulder and then moved away to the edge of camp. Blair's head was turned in his direction, as though he was not willing to let Jim out of his sight.

Simon didn't need to watch. He knew Jim was relieving himself in preparation for bedding down. Simon picked up more wood and put it on the fire. Then he started to remove his outer clothing. It wasn't a particularly cold night but the evening breezes could be chilly. He decided to stay in his long underwear. Besides, he hoped to wash both himself and his clothing in the stream tomorrow.

Jim came back toward Blair and knelt beside him. Then he started undressing. Simon knew that Jim was going to strip down naked, as Blair apparently already was. No matter how cold it was, they always slept nude. Jim said it had something to do with feeling warm in the morning when putting on a layer of clothes that had been warmed inside their blankets during the night. Of course, they also had each other to stay warm, even when they didn't create any excess heat before falling asleep.

Simon envied that about them, too.

"Simon."

Having stretched out on his own blanket, Simon looked up.

Jim was bare and looking at him from across the fire. "Feel free to sleep in tomorrow. Blair and I will take care of things around camp. We'll keep wood on the fire for you."

"Sounds good," Simon said. He was getting frustrated in his search for his mark. Past experience had taught him that, when all leads were dead, sometimes sitting back and doing nothing brought the next lead to him.

Jim got underneath the covers with Blair. Usually, they slept with Blair facing the fire, and Jim spooned around Blair. But now, Blair was still on his back and Jim was getting on top of him.

Don't tell me they're going to do it now. Simon silently sighed. He'd thought Blair too... upset... about what had almost happened in the tent to be willing to couple so soon. Besides, Simon had given them plenty of time to get 'properly' re-acquainted when he'd been hunting dinner. It annoyed him that they'd waited until he was around.

After a few moments, however, it was apparent that sex wasn't on their minds. Jim kept shifting, until he finally settled in a position that allowed him to mostly cover Blair, while obviously not squashing him. Then they both relaxed, as though they were going to get serious about sleeping.

At the edge of the bearskin, Simon saw Blair's hand grasp Jim's upper arm. And stay there.

Damn, kid, Simon thought with sympathy. He wondered how his friends' sex life was going to fare after Blair's captivity and humiliation. Simon had had a cousin once who was raped by a stranger when her husband was away from home. Her husband had been sympathetic to her trauma, but she never seemed to recover completely. Though they remained married in name, Simon knew that they hadn't slept together after that and the husband had to find relief elsewhere.

Blair hadn't been raped in the literal sense of the word, but a lot of his skittish behavior on their two-day journey reminded Simon of his cousin.

He glanced at Jim and Blair across the fire and then smiled inwardly as he closed his eyes. The way the two were falling asleep now, so closely intertwined, boded well for their future.

---

Jim brushed off his hands after unloading an armful of firewood. This would be enough to get them through the night. They would be moving on in the morning.

He'd reached the decision to continue on after watching Blair all day. Blair was less talkative than normal, but he'd been active around camp. He'd even chuckled when Jim teased him about something. He was still a bit clingy, but Jim appreciated that because he was, too.

Jim's only concern had been in the last half hour. As the sun started to dip toward the horizon in mid-afternoon, Blair spent a lot of time standing silently, his arms crossed around his robe - for he had no shirt to wear - looking out into the distance. Jim knew that Blair wasn't watching Simon, who was washing his clothing at the stream the north of the ridge, out of sight.

With all the possible chores done for the time being, Jim approached Blair from behind. He was reaching out to tap him on the shoulder, then thought better of it, not wanting to startle him. Instead, he quietly said, "Chief."

Blair turned and looked at him with a serious, questioning expression.

"What's so interesting out there?" Jim asked, moving to stand beside him.

"I'm not seeing out there," Blair replied. "I'm seeing inside my mind."  He paused. "Whenever I imagine making love to you, I feel their hands on me."  Thick swallow. "One shouldn't have anything to do with the other but my mind associates the two."

Jim knew what he meant. He had returned from the enemy's prison with many associations of benign things reminding him of unpleasant things that had happened during his captivity.

He cupped the side of Blair's face. "It just takes time, Chief. I don't mind waiting. Besides," he grinned, hoping Blair could see the humor, "you're usually the one between us who has the most desire. This might give me a well-needed rest from your relentless demands."  He tweaked Blair's nose.

Blair lowered his gaze, grinning.

Jim squeezed his shoulder, watching his expression. "Is that the only thing that's been on your mind?"  

Blair turned serious again, looking back out into the distance. Then he looked at Jim. "When I was a child, there was a boy in our village who had made a pair of stilts so he could 'walk' high off the ground."

"I saw those once," Jim remembered, "at a circus."

Blair nodded, the horizon again capturing his attention. "I was seven or eight. I thought they were the neatest-looking things. If I walked on them, I could finally be tall."

Jim mentally shook his head. He understood how height could have its advantages at times, but he didn't understand why being on the short side was so bothersome to Blair.

"I talked the boy into letting me try them," Blair continued. "I didn't get very far before I lost my balance and the stilts collapsed beneath me. I twisted my ankle badly and had to stay in bed a couple of days. I was really upset about being confined like that, since spring had come and I could hear the other kids outside playing in the sunshine."  He drew a breath. "My mother told me that twisting my ankle was Bree's way of telling me that He didn't want me to be taller. He'd made me this way and loved me this way, and He didn't want me to change."

When Blair fell silent, Jim searched for something to say. "I'd say your mother spoke some very wise words."

Blair nodded, biting his lower lip. Then he said, "That's what I keep trying to tell myself. Yet, I'm feeling that I want to somehow make myself very tall, or cover my skin in mud so it's darker, or shorten my hair, or somehow make my eyes smaller - do anything else necessary to change my appearance, so that people on this side of the Channel don't automatically assume that I'm a slave."

Blair. Jim stood looking at his love for a long time, trying to get his heart to unclench. His mind had imagined those various changes as Blair named them off.

He took Blair by the shoulders and gently turned him. "Your mother was right. Bree's intentions aside, what about who you are to me?  If I thought being all those different things wouldn't change you inside, I wouldn't mind so much. But the reason you would be changing them, would change you. To hide the man you are inside - from everyone, including me - would be," Jim searched for the right word, "a sin."

Blair's arms tightened around himself. Then he nodded.

Jim's fingers massaged Blair's shoulders.

After a moment, Blair swallowed and said with lowered eyes, "I keep thinking I should have tried harder to get away from those raiders. Turned the horse and tried to gallop away."

"They would have caught you," Jim said, certain that Blair would have gotten away had there been any viable chance of doing so. "That would have only worsened your situation if they were angry with you."

Blair gazed off to one side. "Or, while they were so busy laughing in the tent, I could have tried to crawl under it and run."  He looked up at Jim with sad eyes. "It's like I wasn't strong enough to at least make an attempt to escape."

Jim clasped Blair's cheeks in his hand. "You were strong enough to want to preserve your life."  He considered a moment, needing to relieve a burden of his own. "There are different kinds of strengths, Blair."  

Blair's eyes deepened with interest, for Jim's tone had changed.

Jim lowered his eyes and dropped his hands to Blair's shoulders. "When I woke up...," he drew a breath, wondering what Blair would think of him. "For a moment, I thought that maybe you'd left me."  He made himself look up again.

Blair's eyes widened as his mouth felt open.

Jim looked away while Blair whispered, "How could you?"

"I-It was only for a moment," Jim defended, thinking this was the first time he'd disappointed the man who meant more to him than anything.

"We are pledged," Blair nearly shouted, his voice filled with hurt. "I love you. How could you think - "

"I don't have your strength," Jim quickly explained. Then, "I-I've been so happy," he almost gasped at the memories, "these past months with you. Happy in a way that I never knew was possible, that I never expected. Sometimes I catch myself thinking - wondering - how it is that I was fortunate enough to wind up with you."  Jim swallowed thickly and looked at Blair, who seemed to be studying every nuance of his expression. "I don't deserve it," he finally admitted in a strained whisper. "I don't deserve to have you. That's why... for a brief moment... I was willing to believe that you no longer wanted me."

Blair's jaw firmed as his face tilted toward the ground. "You're a stupid fool," he finally said.

Jim released a breath. "I know."  Then, softer as he took a step closer, "I love you so much, Chief. Now that I have you, losing you is the only fear I know. I don't have the strength to let go of that fear."

Blair looked up at him, his expression now more calm than angry. "What can I do to help give you that strength?"

Nothing was the first reply that came to Jim's mind. Then he realized there was a better answer. "Keep coming back to me."  He had no desire for pride, if that plea made him a beggar.

Blair's face softened. He stepped closer, so that their clothes were brushing. Then he tilted his head and rubbed his cheek against Jim's shoulder.

Agreement? Jim wondered, slipping his arm around Blair's waist, drawing him closer. Or acceptance of how I feel?  He followed with the other arm and squeezed mightily, enjoying the feel of his pledgemate against him. Or just saying he doesn't want to argue any more?  He rocked Blair back and forth as Blair's own arms came around him.

Maybe all three.

They relished their closeness for a long moment. Then Blair finally stepped back and looked up at Jim. He said, "You would have found me, if Simon hadn't. I know that."

Jim gulped and nodded. "It was the only thing that mattered. But in the meantime...."

Blair threw his arms back around him. "Thank God Simon did find me," he choked out.

"Yes," Jim whispered, hearing the man in question approach from the path that led down the ridge. He gave Blair another squeeze of pure gratitude, glad that Blair was back in his arms. Then he let go and stepped back. "Chief," he said, brushing his finger down Blair's chin, "we need to talk about how we're going to proceed from here. I think we need to include Simon, since he knows something about the people in these parts."

Blair nodded.

---

Blair had instinctively known what was coming. He supposed it was because his own intellect had already figured out the best way for them to proceed with their mission, even though he hadn't been consciously aware of doing so.

"Actually," Simon said from the boulder he sat upon, "I'm afraid that you had the right idea when you were in the Timara region a few months ago. You're safer in these parts, Blair," he said apologetically, "if you act as Jim's personal slave."

Blair swallowed. Yes, this is what he'd instinctively known. Still, he pointed out, "The raiders still would have taken me, even if I really were a slave."  He rested his weight more heavily against Jim, his back to his pledgemate's front, from where they sat a few feet from the boulder Simon was resting on.

"The raider tribes are few," Simon said. "There will be less and less of them as we go farther south. While the southern parts of this continent don't have the formal laws about slavery that they have in the Timara region - the bracelet that says 'Property of James Ellison' would mean little -- unlawful sorts would think twice about taking a slave who is the personal and beloved property of a wealthy master. Though Jim travels only with you, he carries himself as one who has wealth and strength beyond that of money."

Blair decided to ask something that had been bothering him for a while now. "What would have happened to Jim if he and I had been together when the raiders came?"

Simon was thoughtful. "They aren't cold-blooded killers. Their pride is in taking something that belongs to somebody else. As long as they could have captured you, they probably would have left Jim alone. But if Jim had put up a fight against them all - as I assume he would - then they probably would have had to kill him in self-defense."

"I wouldn't have let them take Blair," Jim said firmly.

Blair felt the vibration in Jim's chest against his back. He decided not to protest since the matter was in the past. They needed to focus on the days ahead and what would be required of them.

Delicately, Simon said, "I've seen situations where masters have chained a valuable slave to their person. Like a leash."

Blair closed his eyes and repelled a threatening shudder.

Jim hugged him. "As much as I want to keep him by my side at all times, I won't restrict Blair to that degree. He is an agent of the Empire who needs to be able to do his job as best he can."

Simon was thoughtful.  "There's a possible compromise."

Blair wondered what that would be. He reached up and clasped Jim's hand, gently rubbing it with his fingertips.

"What is it?" Jim asked.

"I've heard of peoples southeast of this area who have their personal, most prized slaves wear an arm band with the master's insignia or colors.  It would give Blair a more important status, even though he'd still be a slave. It would serve as a form of protection. On the other hand, it would mean that no one could interact with him directly. An arm band would signify that he is so highly prized that anything he says or does must be through his master. He responds only to his own master's commands. He can't converse with anyone else, unless his master allows him to. If anyone speaks to him, without the master's permission, he is to ignore them."

Thinking of the punch Simon had delivered to his still-tender face, Blair asked, "What if the slave disobeys?  What's the punishment?"

Simon seemed perplexed a moment, then replied, "That would surely be between the slave and his master. I've heard of primitive societies where there were tribal laws about the punishment of slaves, but in modern times, it's always seemed to be a matter for the master to contend with."

Jim said, "If I, as master, decide that Blair can talk to anyone he wants, then, in a sense, he has his own freedom."

"I suppose," Simon said, "but it might confuse or inhibit some people who don't know how to behave around a forthright slave."  He was thoughtful a long moment, then said, "I have another idea.  It will allow Blair to be a valued slave; yet, almost an equal to his master in experience and education."

Blair intertwined his fingers with Jim's as they listened to Simon's suggestion.

 

END PART ONE

PART TWO