Chapter Thirteen: The Escape Plan
HE WAS SURROUNDED by the warmth of many blankets, and the soft presence beneath him indicated a thick mattress. Whoever had brought him to their room, was someone of importance, prestige, or both. Even Nilhin’s mother hadn’t been afforded such luxuries and she was the most popular courtesan at the Ya Brothel. The more Nilhin’s senses returned to him, he started to realise he was bound with shackles around his wrist, and his arms were forced against his sides with rope that burned just a little whenever it touched his bare skin. Nilhin immediately began to struggle, trying to wriggle out of the ropes, because there was no way he’d get out of the shackles on his own.
The curtains on the side of the bed were pulled back to reveal Gronjas, and the man sat on the edge of the bed. Nilhin let out a whimper when his calloused fingers came for him, but they only brushed against his forehead and pushed his bangs off his skin.
“If you were really my friend, you wouldn’t drag out my execution,” Nilhin said, his voice hardly more than a whisper, both in his confusion and his trembling anger.
“I’m not going to kill you,” Gronjas said. “I already told you that.”
“Then what are you going to do with me?”
“I’m going to get you somewhere you’ll be safe.” Gronjas sighed and shook his head. “You weren’t cooperative, so I made sure you couldn’t run away and get yourself killed. You killed our best healer, by the way. He was a good man.”
Having an ally in a moment like this was great, but it was still hard to believe after learning of the general consensus, an opinion even Gronjas shared a few nights earlier. Nilhin had been kissed by Gronjas, so perhaps his sympathy was because he desired Nilhin in some way. That could be more useful than any other sympathy he may have gotten. That was an easily exploited type of affection and protection.
“I won’t run,” Nilhin said, after a long moment. “Please, Gronjas, the ropes are burning me.”
Gronjas nodded, and untied him with deft, methodical fingers. It seemed that he had used these sorts of ropes before. Nilhin could move his arms enough to sit up. He drew his legs towards himself, and noticed he had been clothed. Gronjas must have done the intimate deed of dressing him while he was unconscious. Nilhin wondered why the man had bothered, or whether or not it played into the desire the man had for him. He lifted his wrists to peer at the sigils and arrays chiselled into the metal, intricate and geometric, littered with ancient rune seals, a language Nilhin had only just begun to learn since hand seals were much easier for him to utilize. He tried to pull his wrists apart, but they didn’t budge.
“What do these runes mean? My education with the Hvit Clan never progressed this far,” Nilhin admitted. Gronjas touched Nilhin’s hands very gently, stroking the soft skin between his thumb and index finger before his thumb brushed against his soft but protruding knuckles. He pointed at the circular patterns, filled with triangles, stars, and all sorts of shapes that Nilhin had never been taught.
“The circles here inhibit the flow of energy within your body, disallowing their escape. You can’t use any magic with this one because of this. It acts as a lock. A circle in itself isn’t powerful, so the sign of power, here, in this nine pointed star is the symbol of unity, and to lock away your ability to unite your energy renders you powerless--” Gronjas drew an index finger over all of these shapes as he pointed them out, tracing them. “These interlocked rectangles here allow for the flow of energy within the shackles so their power is continuous throughout the entire piece. The runes are for banishment, and this one here powers it all, the run of strength.”
“And the rope,” Nilhin said, “How does that work?”
“It’s enchanted, and weaved with materials that commonly harm beasts that simultaneously hold spells well. There are weaves in the outside cord that bind the internal threads that are formed in sigils like on the shackles. I don’t know which ones they are specifically, but they’re likely the same, as well as gelid purification since they’re used to trap ghosts and monsters, too, not just beasts.”
“Now that you’ve caught me, what will you do with me?” Nilhin asked. Gronjas sighed.
“My plan is… weak, at best. I know I have to get you out of Storkott, but there’s only one place that you’ll really be able to stay, and… and they’re not known for being kind to their people, or anyone for that matter.”
Nilhin had never heard of any place that would accept someone like Nilhin, someone not entirely human. In fact, if such a place existed, then why hadn’t he and his mother gone there? His mother, maybe, could have lived if… if whatever killed her, hadn’t left. (Just like in the legend, Xiu Ming almost killed his mother because he didn’t know his heritage, could it have been Nilhin who killed his own mother, albeit accidentally?)
“Which place is that?” Nilhin asked.
“Neuma,” Gronjas said, shaking his head. “It’s under the control of the Zaw Clan, the first of the legendary dynasties. They’re known for being tolerant of beasts, but… but beasts that they hunt, while there’s no proof they’re killed, never leave their subterranean fortress.” Gronjas’ eyes seemed drawn to Nilhin’s body rather than his face, and Gronjas gazed upon him with some interest, with his black pupils expanding when they brushed over certain parts of his torso and his legs. Nilhin reached out to hold the back of Gronjas’ hand, stroking his thumb along his rough skin as he did so.
“They wouldn’t let me be a disciple, would they?” Nilhin asked.
“The best place for you, to keep you safe, is to be unnoticeable. Servants are rarely ever seen, so… I’m not sure how offended you may have been by such a suggestion.”
“If it will keep me safe, a life of servitude under a protective master wouldn’t be too terrible,” Nilhin said, although he could understand the reluctance on Gronjas’ part, since most of the arrogant young masters that join the Hvit Clan would certainly protest to such a placement even for their safety. Nilhin figured his mother had been a servant for most of her life, being a lowly prostitute, no matter her popularity, is what kept her hidden, and it’s what satiated her hunger (until Nilhin was born).
“I’m glad you think that. That actually makes this a lot easier then,” Gronjas said. The man had the nerve to finally look embarrassed, after everything that had happened, and continued to say, “I had a whole argument to convince you that it would be far safer than you being a disciple. I guess I should’ve guessed you’d agree. You’re smarter than the rest of Orikani, perhaps more so than half the disciples that were once young masters or noblemen.”
Despite Gronjas being correct, Nilhin wasn’t about to praise him for his compliments, especially not when Gronjas wanted something from him.
“What do we do next, then? What are your plans to escape this fortress?”
“Well, your energy, when you murdered the healer--” Gronjas gave Nilhin a side-eye, a look of judgement that Nilhin ignored-- “you set off the alarms. The fortress has been on lockdown ever since. This is my room, and nobody would ever suspect me of harbouring a fox paragon since I’m the oldest of my generation of blood-Hvit. They trust me to lead everyone in our principles, and our principles normally dictate that I kill you… Anyway, I’m not going to do that. I’m going to hide you until the lockdown is lifted, and then I’m going to leave with a group of servants for a meeting in Tbai. I’m meeting with the First Prince. I’ll figure out how to get you into his care on the journey there.”
So, Gronjas’ plan was to disguise Nilhin as a servant to get him out of the fortress, and hide him until they could leave, and the most integral part, getting him safe passage into the Zaw Clan, was just a problem to worry about later? Perhaps Gronjas was interested in him for his body, since that seemed to be why most, if not all, the men he had met in his life had wanted to keep him around -- although there were dozens of things they’d condemn him for otherwise -- which made these priorities poor in regards to truly keeping him safe. Nilhin couldn’t expect much from other people, though. He’d have to do it himself, and he felt stupid for ever having hoped for any different.
He smiled and patted the back of Gronjas’ hand like he might do for a young child.
“That’s very good. I’m grateful to have you helping me,” Nilhin said. “What do you suppose we do while we wait here?”
“I brought you things to entertain yourself with. I have to go ‘search’ the fortress with the others to help make it seem like it was a false alarm,” Gronjas said. He stood up and left only to come back with a little lap-desk with paper and books on it as well as everything he needed to write.
“What about the healer’s body?”
“I’ve already hidden it,” Gronjas admitted with a nervous little sound. “I, uh, didn’t want to take any chances, so he’s also under the bed. I’ll take him with us when we leave, and I’ll give him a proper body burning in the woods on the way.”
Nilhin nodded, and kicked the blankets off his legs. He held the desk over his lap and went through the process of grinding the dry stick of ink with water to get the right consistency. Gronjas nodded and left a moment later. Nilhin watched him leave, his eyes flicking to his retreating form as soon as his back was turned. Nilhin picked up the pages, and began to rewrite his mother’s poems, from her poetry book that those bastards in his subunit destroyed. He didn’t want to think about why his mother never told him something so important about himself, or what she had expected to happen once he inevitably found out, or how dumb she must have thought him if she never thought he’d realise something was different or wrong with himself. He didn’t want to think about her at all, but she was also the only person that he knew to comfort him, truly. Even his aunties never made him feel as safe and as cared for as she did. What would she think if she knew her only son had been found out within a mere season of being involved with a clan, ruining all her hard work to keep him hidden? If he died, then her death, no matter what caused it, would be in vain.
When Gronjas returned, once the candles had melted down to short nubs, he carried a tray of food, seemingly for himself, and he set it near the corner of the bed, before he knelt beside the bed and picked up the spoon.
“I got enough for us to share,” Gronjas said. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“This is good. Thank you,” Nilhin said. He set the desk to the side and picked up a spoon so he could eat. He and Gronjas shared a meal together in an almost domestic way. Every now and again, Gronjas would glance at Nilhin with something like longing and some other cocktail of sadness before he continued to eat. Nilhin wasn’t actually hungry, much like he had felt when he drained Ogar of life. He probably didn’t require human food, if this was the case, or at least not so soon after feeding on energy. Perhaps this was a form of inedia, which was only muttered about by the young disciples of the Hvit Clan.
Inedia was praised as a skill for powerful mages that could use their own internal energy cultivation to sustain themselves, forgoing the need for food or water (but not both at the same time). Some people, chiefly the scant and rare immortals, are rumored to be able to do this for extended periods of times, sometimes spanning years, but nobody knew any immortals. There was only one known to the world, a lady hermit who rescued unwanted children, a hidden nomad who apparently had great magic to erase memories of her presence from people.
“I’m very thirsty,” Nilhin said, setting his spoon down. “Would you be so kind as to get me some water?”
“I’ll get some,” Gronjas agreed. When the man left the room, Nilhin slid off the tall-raised bed and pushed the loose waist of his pants off his bony hips. He held his shirt up beneath his chin and poked at his lower back. That is what had given him away. That is what they used to confirm with him, but as he touched the skin there, he found nothing wrong with it. He kicked his pants off entirely and walked around the room, looking for a mirror, so he could see what it looked like. He didn’t often look at his own back, because there had never been a reason to do so.
Gronjas came back while he was looking in his mirror, partially nude, although Gronjas had seen him entirely before. Gronjas nearly dropped the cup of water he was carrying, but managed to set it down, only wetting the vambraces on his forearms with it.
“Why are you… what are you doing?” Gronjas asked.
“I want to know how you confirmed my nature,” Nilhin said. Gronjas didn’t say anything, so Nilhin continued to tell him why it was important, since he couldn’t seem to synthesize for himself: “Because if you could figure it out, what would stop other people from finding the same?”
“It was the Legend of Xiu Ming,” Gronjas said, coming towards Nilhin and letting his hands rest on Nilhin’s waist. Gronjas’ thumbs touched his spine, and his fingers could reach each other as he circled Nilhin’s drastically malnourished waist, or maybe Gronjas just had unusually large hands, either way, Nilhin knew he was at the mercy of Gronjas, and even if they fought, Nilhin would have a much harder time winning than when he attached the healer, who hadn’t hurt Nilhin even as he killed him.
“I’m not as familiar with the story as you, Gronjas, and you only gave me a brief retelling. What about it?”
“The legend says that his mother used a powerful seal to hide his tails, that’s why nobody could see them. So, I just had him scan you for a seal, since you don’t have a tail. You have one, which means something must be hidden. That, and, well, since you weren’t aware, you didn’t realise you needed to hide, so your actions were very obvious -- the Orikani told me everything.”
“It’s so hard to believe this,” Nilhin said. “Even now that I know it has to be true, it doesn’t feel right.”
Nilhin twisted in Gronjas’ grasp so he could face him. He had to tilt his head back to look up at the man, and he reached out to rest his hands on his chest.
“If my mother had just told me… I could have protected myself better. Why did she keep it from me? Didn’t this only put me in more danger?” he asked.
“Did she tell you to come here before she…?”
“She told me to go to a clan, that I had to be with one. This is the only one that accepts everyone no matter our background or skill,” Nilhin said. “I figured this was the best place and most likely to accept me. To help me get stronger.”
“If you had gone to any other clan,” Gronjas began, “You probably would have been fine.”
“But then I wouldn’t have met you,” Nilhin said. Gronjas leaned down so he could press their foreheads together.
“Now that I do know you, I would much rather you have been safe and free from killing people, even if that meant I never got to meet you. I would make that sacrifice, to make sure you were healthy and happy. Now, though, we don’t have a choice,” Gronjas said. Nilhin leaned up to kiss Gronjas, but the man turned his head away with a deep sigh, letting Nilhin’s chapped lips brush against his angular cheek, a layer of coarse hair trimmed close along his jaw.
“You killed the healer only by kissing his lips,” Gronjas said.
Nilhin scowled, but only because Gronjas couldn’t see him. Despite this, his voice was soft, bordering on innocent, as he said, “I was so scared. You must understand that I only did what I did because I was scared of what might have happened otherwise. I’ve hurt you, but… but you’re so much bigger than me, stronger than me. Why wouldn’t I have been afraid of you?”
Gronjas sighed again, and his hands caressed his skin as they gravitated lower until he held his hips, which had nearly the same circumference as his waist.
“My desire for you isn’t for your body, Nilhin,” Gronjas said. “You’re barely older than a boy. How could I desire you physically? I may sin under the precepts of my clan because I refuse to kill you, but neither do I wish to take you as you are now. I had hoped we could have been friends until you had grown, but that won’t be possible now. You’ll be gone in a few days, and I may never get to see you again.”
“So what do you want?” Nilhin asked, his hands dragging up across Gronjas’ chest until he rested them on his broad shoulders. “If we are to never see each other again, what is it that I can do for you to sate… whatever desire it is that you hold for me.”
“I don’t know,” Gronjas admitted, his voice hoarse and harsh like he was fighting the words that escaped. “I don’t wish to live a life where I never get to… get to be with you, but as it is, you’re still so…” Gronjas shook his head again. “I don’t want to make love to a child.”
“A child,” Nilhin repeated, softly. “You’d allow me to be a child? I thought that people like me didn’t deserve the honour of such a title. I thought we were all monsters. You may not wish to deflower a child, but certainly exceptions could be made for a monster.”
“Why do you sound like you’re trying to talk me into it? Do you want…?”
“I’ve never, actually…” Nilhin admitted, looking down, and drawing his hands back to his body. “I’ve seen it happen, but only women. I know how to please a man, but only because I was instructed on how to do so. I know things about how it happens, when it’s two men, but I’ve never actually done it before. So, I don’t really know what I want, but it also doesn’t matter what I want, doesn’t it? I’m at your mercy, Gronjas, and I want you to take care of me because I can’t do it myself.” Nilhin wiped his cheeks, and Gronjas cooed, reaching down to do the same, only there were no real tears that he could wipe away. “All my life, I’ve never been more than this. A weak and helpless boy who can only offer pleasure to people who would rather forget my existence entirely. Even you wish you had never met me.”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Gronjas insisted. Gronjas pulled Nilhin towards him and hugged him. It was a tender embrace, and Gronjas was very warm, but Nilhin’s insides were freezing, a blizzard storming through his veins. “I’m glad to have met you--”
“But--”
“But I wish it could have been different, that’s all,” Gronjas said. The man pulled away from Nilhin. “Anyway, I brought you some water. Tomorrow will likely be the last day of the lockdown, and I’ve already sent a letter to the first prince about something I’d like to discuss.”
“How do you know the first prince of Zaw will help you? I’ve only heard rumors, but I hear he doesn’t get along well with most people,” Nilhin said, taking the cup of water and draining it. Unlike the normal tastelessness of water, his desperation made this water taste sweet on his tongue.
“We used to be friends, of sorts, actually. He’s a bit older than me, but I knew him when he was younger. We went on a few wild hunts together. He is definitely standoffish and cold, but he’s not a bad person. He’s actually just desperate to please his father’s lofty expectation. The more he fails to reach those unattainable goals, the more cold and apathetic he becomes. It’s through no fault of his own, of course.”
Nilhin listened to Gronjas explain this man, tucking all this information away to use later. He nodded along just to satisfy Gronjas with the knowledge he was indeed being listened to. Gronjas then excused himself to return the food tray to the kitchens, and Nilhin redressed himself and got back into the bed. He started to work on transcribing his mother’s poems again. He would surely have them finished by the next day.
When Gronjas came back, the man lay down a pelt on the ground, and dropped a pillow and a blanket on it.
“You could sleep up here with me,” Nilhin offered.
“No offense, but I think that may be the least safe place for me to be,” Gronjas said. Nilhin tilted his head to the side but nodded.
“If you feel that way, then I won’t stop you from sleeping on the cold, hard floor,” Nilhin said. He turned back to his writing, before he cleaned up the little tray for the night so that he could sleep as well. Gronjas got undressed and unarmored so he could sleep. Nilhin kept his head down as this happened, but he looked up every now and again to just watch him. Gronjas was, despite being a temporary ally at best and a threat at worst, a rather handsome man. Large, and strong, and he could certainly prove that he could care for Nilhin, and keep him safe. Those were the traits that Nilhin wanted in someone, to weave a net of protection around himself with people that others wouldn’t dare to pester or attack. If he could only surround himself with strong, intimidating folk, he would be left alone by anyone who wanted to kill him.
Comments
Post a Comment