Beneath the Greying Cliffs

Part 3

Manix and Syellen found their accommodations for the night to be better than they had expected. Indeed, even Hadrian was a bit envious of the cool, clean cellar in which they'd be passing the night. If there'd been room for him, he gladly would have stayed with them. But his luck was thin. The small space allowed for two bodies, not three.

He lingered, reluctant to rejoin Caled and the others. He ended up encouraging a discussion of their upcoming plans with Manix. But after a few minutes of this, Hadrian knew it had become apparent to the Elder that he was stalling.

"If you like, I'll trade places with you," the mage said kindly. "You can sleep here with Syellen."

Hadrian was embarrassed by the sympathy and understanding in the older man's eyes. He wanted no one's pity.

"I'm fine. It's best that you two should stay together. You can protect her should anything happen."

The way that I can't.

"Hadrian --"

A hand on his sleeve stopped him as he turned to leave. Manix was studying him closely. "You know there are ways to magick besides what you have been taught. The proper ways. I could show you them."

He could sense Syellen sitting up on the pallet, her breath in her throat. He didn't need magick to feel the jealousy and apprehension she was trying to hold back. Hadrian nodded at the mage.

"Thank you for your offer. I'm not prepared for that just yet. But..I'll consider it."

He knew he wouldn't, though. Not until he absolutely had no choice. Because Manix didn't understand how it was. To settle for the restraints of formula magick was like deciding to bathe in a pond when the entire ocean was only steps away. He couldn't limit himself that way. He'd inhaled the fumes of unlimited power and become addicted.

He kept his face blank, not wanting Manix to read him and become more suspicious of Hadrian than he already was. It seemed to work, for the mage gave him a last sympathetic smile and turned away. Hadrian left them, his heart tight.

He didn't want to rejoin the others. He could only hope Caled and his friends had drunk enough ale in his absence to render them unconscious. But yet again, luck was not with him. The three men broke off their raucous conversation and raised drunken eyes to him when he reluctantly sat down and dropped their packs beside the table.

"What? Still here?" Caled blurted. "Thought you might have tried to escape on your own, seeing as you enjoy my company so much."

"As much as I would like to leave, I have no choice but to endure you," Hadrian replied, feigning boredom. He didn't care to reveal the details of his involvement in their mission.

Gam shook his head sloppily. Three empty mugs lay on their sides on the table before him. "You two must be delightful traveling companions. How do the others put up with you, I wonder?"

"Doesn't matter," Caled mumbled. He had a dagger out and was carving his name into the surface of the table. "I'm in this whether they like it or not. Whether Hadrian likes it or not." He raised his head, challenging the other man.

Hadrian met his eyes. It had been a long time since Caled had used his full name. Hadrian hadn't realized how much he missed the sound of it on the mercenary's tongue. He found himself looking deeper into the other man's blue eyes, searching for a hint of weakness. Of doubt. Maybe if Caled didn't hate him so much they could get through this intact...

"You're pretty," Caled murmured suddenly.

Hadrian blinked, startled.

Caled's dagger left the wood and lifted to the sorcerer's face. Hadrian held himself still as the sharp point dragged lightly down his jaw. "The first time I saw you, I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I couldn't believe that someone like you could exist in a pit like Rhiad."

He was drunker than Hadrian had initially thought. Hadrian slid his eyes to the other two men, but they were too engrossed with what Caled's knife was doing to be any help. Returning his gaze to Caled's, he made himself speak carefully.

"I'd like to go to the room," he said slowly. "I'm tired."

The tip of the blade touched his lips. Hadrian shivered as it traced his mouth. Caled's eyes darkened. "Do you want me to go with you?" the mercenary breathed. "I remember how it was between us. Do you? I could remind you."

Of course Hadrian remembered. How could he not? Those moments were the first he had known of desire, of passion. Caled had awakened in him feelings Hadrian had not dreamt existed. Lust and need--Caled had shown him the possibilities for ecstasy. He had awakened Hadrian.

But it was the very beauty of that experience that made the events that followed so horrific to him. That he had been able to coldly distance himself from what he had shared with Caled and wreak the havoc that would kill the mercenary's friends...Caled wanted to know if he remembered? Oh, yes. Everything the mercenary was referring to and more. It drove a blade into Hadrian's gut that was sharper than the one currently tracing his face.

He was afraid of where this sudden interest might lead. He knew that deep down, Caled still hated him. To believe the drunken offer in those intense blue eyes and in that husky voice was something Hadrian could not afford to do. "Have you forgotten that you hate me?" he said simply. "Or is your passion fickle when your cock comes into play?"

Someone laughed. It might have been Lio. Hadrian watched Caled's expression shift from lustful to one of disgust and anger. A part of Hadrian saddened as the mercenary's familiar mask fell into place.

"I haven't forgotten," Caled bit out, putting away his dagger with a dangerous thrust. "I'm taking my sport with you, Hades. There are many ways to make a person suffer. Having you helpless and naked beneath me would be one of them."

Hadrian's mouth tightened around a retort. He ducked his head, frustrated by the color he knew suffused his face.

"That's what all the ladies say, anyway," Gam chirped.

He and Caled broke into laughter.

"Hadrian."

A hand touched his glove. It was Lio.

"Our room is the third one on the right," he said quietly. "At the top of the stairs."

Hadrian took a deep breath. He managed a grateful smile for the green-eyed thief. "Thank you," he said. Of a sudden, the ale was too much for him. Caled was too much for him. He needed desperately to lie down and regain some sense of peace for himself.

Sparing neither word nor look for the mercenary, Hadrian grabbed his pack and left the table. Upstairs, he let himself into a dark, narrow room. A bed, covered with a lumpy straw mattress, was shoved against one wall. A lopsided table leaned against the other wall beneath a grimy, filmed window. Hadrian shook out his bedroll and laid it atop the dust-covered floor. Wrapping himself in his cloak, he lay down.

He closed his eyes. It felt odd to be lying atop such an unyielding surface after months of sleeping on the ground. The voices below vibrated the wood planks beneath his ear. He feared he wouldn't be able to fall asleep. But in minutes, he lost consciousness.

He awoke to the sounds of movement in the room. His head spun from the ale he'd consumed. He kept himself still as he listened to Caled and the two thieves stumble loudly about. The wooden frame of the bed screeched as their bodies fell onto the mattress. Hadrian waited for a body to join him on the floor. But none did. Caled was on the mattress with his friends.

Hadrian's heartbeat accelerated as he heard the sound of intimate play coming from the three men. He didn't want to listen, but found himself helpless not to. He clenched his eyes shut as a soft moan reached his ears. It was followed by another moan, louder and from a different throat. Hadrian recognized the second voice as Caled's.

Blood pooled in his groin, filling his flesh until it pressed tight against the barrier of his breeches. Someone's gasp of excitement made him bite his lip. He imagined he could hear clothing being removed, eager hands sliding over firm, hot flesh. He pictured the skin of Caled's chest, scarred and tanned. He could practically feel the hands that moved over that solid expanse, plucking at the dusky nipples, scratching up the ladder of ribs.

Caled was sensitive around the small of his back. What if hands were touching him there, drawing the soft groans that now filled the room? And that panting breath --that had to belong to the mercenary. Someone must be stroking him, holding his turgid flesh and coaxing it to steel-like hardness.

Hadrian bit back a moan. He tightened his legs, drawing his knees to his chest around the ache that was growing in his body. He had not been with anyone since Caled. He hadn't wanted to. Now the needs of his body seemed impossible to ignore any longer. It had been so long since someone had touched him intimately. So long since someone had laid claim to his body and sought to wring cries of pleasure from his throat...He pressed his clenched gloves to his forehead as the heat of arousal broke out across his skin. His hips wanted to move. He wanted to feel Caled's hardness thrusting into him, pinning him to the floor. Wanted to hear Caled's husked voice, coaxing him to enjoy it...

A soft sound. Right behind him.

Hadrian froze, holding his breath as a hand lightly touched his heated brow. He turned his head on the floor. The weak light from the dirty window illuminated a heart-shaped face with a single eye that stared back at him. Lio. The thief paused for only a moment before his hand drifted down Hadrian's hair, brushing back damp strands from where they clung to his throat. Hadrian's heart began to beat wildly. He stared, wide-eyed, as cool fingers touched the side of his neck and gently stroked.

Lio said nothing, his eye intent upon Hadrian's face. He looked somber, as if he were taking this seduction with dead seriousness. His fingers lightly caressed the base of Hadrian's throat, over the pulse there. It made Hadrian gasp, his every muscle tightening at the delicate touch. Nimble fingers trailed over his collarbones, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. He trembled.

Lio's touch stoked a fire in Hadrian's blood and it frightened him. It stirred a need for companionship he'd been determined to smother. To need was to be vulnerable. To be vulnerable was to hurt. He had lost too much control over his life to want to give someone this final power.

When the other man's fingers trilled over the skin of his chest, he managed to find his voice. It came out passion-rough and too revealing. "Don't," he whispered, catching the other man's questing hand. "Please don't."

The green eye studied him thoughtfully. Hadrian was thankful for the darkness that concealed much of his flushed face. The thief's thin wrist pulled free.

"I'm sorry," Lio murmured, muted surprise on his face. "I didn't know."

Didn't know what? Hadrian didn't want to ask what the other man meant. "I can't do this," he said. "It has nothing to do with you."

Lio touched his hair again, letting the long strands slide between his fingers. "Caled is lucky," he said obliquely. Before Hadrian could guess at his meaning, the thief rolled away. The bed squeaked as he joined the others. Hadrian heard murmured words of welcome that swiftly dissolved into language of a far different nature.

Hadrian turned his back on them, his body afire with unquenched desire. He closed his eyes and covered his ears with his cloak. He managed to block out the sounds, but nothing could quell his imagination. Fantasies of naked limbs and hair the color of wheat filled his head. It kept him awake long after the three in the bed above him had fallen into sated sleep.

~~~~~

"By the Gods," Caled muttered. He made his third prayer of the morning that he not be sick across the neck of his horse. "This must be a new torture devised by Gavedon."

"You deserve it," Syellen told him. Undisguised satisfaction made her voice light. "You knew we'd be starting out early this morning. What possessed you to drink so much?"

"Your grating voice," Caled mumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers. Damn, but he'd forgotten The Bul's ale had such an effect the morning after. It wouldn't have been so bad if he could have slept some of it off like Gam and Lio were still doing. The sun wasn't even up yet and he was already on a horse, fighting to keep down the contents of his stomach. His thieving friends were probably laughing in their sleep right now.

Thoughts of Gam and Lio made him smile. Gods, he'd needed that release. Since joining this unlikely group, he had been tense beyond measure. Syellen grated upon his nerves for the obvious reasons. Manix was far too cool and knowing for comfort. And Hadrian...The ways in which the grey-eyed sorcerer disturbed Caled were too numerous to list in one afternoon.

His eyes slid surreptitiously to the younger man. Hadrian looked, if possible, more miserable than Caled felt. Shadows underscored the grey eyes, making his pale skin look almost ghostly. It was apparent he'd slept little, if at all. Caled managed a grin. He thought he knew why.

He tried to keep the smile from to his face as he urged his horse alongside Hadrian's. The sorcerer darted a wary look at him. "I'm in no mood to trade insults," Hadrian muttered. "Harass someone else for once."

"Hades, you think the worst of me. I'm offended." Very difficult not to smile. "So what do you think of my friends, hmm? Think you'd like to get to know them better?" He knew that Lio had tried, unsuccessfully, to seduce Hadrian. The thought was both amusing and strangely irritating.

"I doubt they could spare me the time," Hadrian replied dryly. "They seem rather preoccupied with your company."

"Yes, that's true." Caled allowed himself a moment's indulgence as he recalled some scenes from last night. Ah, Gam had a talented mouth. He shook off the memory, instantly regretting it as his head threatened to explode. He grit his teeth and forced a grin. "Gam and Lio make good company. Too bad they couldn't join us. Might have livened things up. You wouldn't have minded if Lio came along, would you, Hades?"

The betraying color he'd hoped to flush out appeared as expected. Caled held back a laugh.

"Tell me about their eye patches, " Hadrian said stiffly, ignoring the other man's comment. "There's a story behind it."

The mercenary smirked at the less-than-subtle change of topic. But because he was feeling ill, Caled didn't press his advantage and torment Hadrian further. He would make up for it later when he had more energy.

"You should have asked Lio to show you what's beneath his patch." When Hadrian threw him a dark look, Caled raised a hand defensively. "I'm being serious. He and Gam share the same eyes."

Hadrian frowned. "What do you mean?"

Caled took a hefty swallow of water from his flask. At this rate, he knew he'd drain the entire pouch within the hour. "Gam and Lio got caught spying on a lovely young 'maiden'. The problem was, this young lady's companion of the moment was no one less than a member the Order of the White Shard." From the corner of his eye, Caled could see the other man brace himself. "When this sorcerer caught Gam and Lio in the rafters, he decided to be creative with his punishment." Caled paused, feeling evil. "You do know how awfully creative your father's followers can be, don't you?"

He'd been expecting an angry retort. The reaction he got was far different. The younger man blanched, going so white Caled thought for certain the sorcerer must be on the verge of passing out from blood loss. A sick look came over Hadrian's face before he lowered his head, the dark curtain of his hair swinging free to hide his expression.

"Yes," was all the sorcerer said. "I'm--familiar with their methods."

Caled looked at him a moment. If his head was clearer, he might have pursued this tantalizing reaction. As it was, he could barely hold onto the thread of his story.

Vowing not to forget what he had seen, he continued, "Yeah, well, this sorcerer magicked Gam and Lio. He removed an eye from each of them and switched them. Beneath his patch, Gam now has a green eye. Lio has a hazel one. And they can... see out of the eyes."

"See?" Hadrian had recovered and was looking at him curiously.

"Out of his magicked green eye, Gam sees everything that Lio sees. The same goes with Lio." Caled shrugged. "The sorcerer had intended for it to be a curse, but in their line of work, having an extra perspective actually helps them. When they want to see from their friend's viewpoint, they simply slide the patch over and look out of their magicked eye."

"That is wrong."

Caled stifled a groan as Syellen forced her horse between his and Hadrian's. She looked angry. And annoyingly well-rested.

"Magick should never be used that way. It's an abomination. It twists the true nature of Life." Her eyes fell accusingly to Hadrian. "How can you listen to stories like that and still believe in the Order?"

This Caled wanted to hear. How would Hadrian defend the powers that had destroyed Rhiad?

Hadrian looked too weary to answer. His normally stony facade was absent, and in it's place was an obvious resignation. "I don't believe in the Order," he began slowly, "I believe in magick. Gavedon has warped what the Order was originally intended to be, which was a means for instructing others in what he had discovered on Fieran's Peak. What the Order stands for now is less about enlightenment and more about the acquisition of power. I don't agree with that, nor with anything that Gavedon has done for several years now."

"But you went along with him," Caled reminded in a silken voice laced with steel.

Hadrian's eyes shot to him. On the sorcerer's face was an angry, unvoiced protest.

"If you don't follow the dictates of the Order, why did you stay with them for so long?" Syellen demanded. Caled glanced at her with veiled surprise. Why was she digging at Hadrian? Had something happened between them last night?

Hadrian wouldn't look at her. Caled suspected he was trying to reign himself in. Manix was a silent, observant presence behind them all.

"The Order is similar to a religion," Hadrian replied tightly, "a very rigid, obsessive religion. If they discover you've begun to lose faith, they convince you otherwise."

A shiver passed over Caled's skin. Somehow he knew that whatever image he conjured up to illustrate Hadrian's use of the word "convince" would pale next to the truth.

Syellen, though, painfully unaware of the tension running through Hadrian, pressed on. "You can't convince me that you were afraid of them. I've seen what you've done. You destroyed --"

"Syellen."

Manix's voice was soft, but the order in it was unmistakable."Leave off for the moment. The morning is young. Let us all gather our strength for the ride ahead."

Manix was protecting Hadrian again. It angered Caled. What did the Elder see in the younger man that encouraged him to shield Hadrian from probes into his past? Caled knew that Manix didn't condone the attack on Rhiad. Quite the contrary, he was leading them to find Gavedon and bring him to justice. Yet why wasn't the mage including Hadrian in his condemnation? Again, Hadrian's words filled his head: Sometimes we don't have a choice in what we do. A part of Caled wanted to believe Hadrian. An equally large part wanted to thrust a dagger into the sorcerer's heart.

He sighed. He had no answers. In his present state, he wasn't up to thinking about any of it, anyway. He endured the rest of the morning in welcome silence. There was a painful hour or two when the sun had just risen and was a burning poker against the back of his eyes. Once the golden orb lifted above his head, though, he was able to fall into something of a stupor, many years spent on horseback ensuring that he wouldn't fall despite being half-asleep.

By the time they had halted for the midday meal, Caled felt considerably better. He managed to stuff a hunk of bread into his mouth and succeed in swallowing it. He opened his second flask. He smiled as the yeasty-sweet smell of its contents drifted to his nostrils.

"Do you consume alcohol constantly?" Syellen asked reproachfully.

"This is a little advice, dear Sy, which you most definitely do not deserve." He took a sip from the flask, smacking his lips in pleasure. "Nothing helps to cure the aches caused by overindulgence better than carefully moderated consumption of more of the same."

"Sounds like just an excuse to drink more," Syellen mumbled around a mouthful of dry cheese.

"It's another lesson," Manix commented. He'd finished his meal and was rubbing a wet cloth over a stain on his robes. "Recognize who is an authority of their domain and accept their counsel, Syellen."

The mage smiled faintly as he watched the blond mercenary mull over his words, trying to determine if they'd been insulting. Considering Caled's current condition, it would take awhile.

Manix's eyes swung lazily to the horses, where Hadrian was absently grooming his mount. They still had much riding to do, but Manix understood that the younger man was using the chore as an excuse to escape their company. He sighed. He would have to speak to Syellen about her quick tongue. He understood her jealousy of his offer to instruct Hadrian, but it would not do to increase the tension in their little group. Though he hid it well, Hadrian was potentially more dangerous than the others comprehended. Manix did not want the sorcerer having to deal with the combined assaults of Syellen and Caled. The mercenary by himself was bad enough.

Thus, the Elder was distrustful when Caled and Syellen took to riding side by side upon resuming their journey. Caled had made no secret of the fact that he disliked Manix's apprentice. For him to willingly seek out Syellen's company... They were not together exchanging pleasantries, of that Manix was certain.

"Tell me about when you and Manix went to find Hadrian," Caled urged. Though the last thing he wanted to do was engage the female mage in conversation, he had no choice. Manix was unlikely to provide him with the information he sought.

Syellen eyed him suspiciously."Why?"

Caled bit down his impatience. "Because I want to know what I am dealing with. Tell me."

Syellen stared at him a bit longer before apparently decided to believe him. She faced ahead, seemingly lost in the memory. She pulled the edges of her cloak about her as if to ward off a sudden chill. "We found him on Shard's Point Isle," she began hesitantly.

"What is it like?" He'd heard little of the island. Descriptions of it were few and unreliable, shrouded in myths of the Order.

Syellen shivered. "It's dead."

Unease skittered down Caled's spine. She had the same look on her face that Gam and Lio had had when they were discussing the island. "Dead how?"

Syellen laughed mirthlessly."I mean dead. As in nothing was alive on that island. Nothing. The ground was covered with ash, as if everything that had been in the air -- the birds, the insects--had been seared and fell to the earth. The trees"--she took a breath --"the trees had all exploded. Not a single tree was standing, just -- just scattered splinters of wood."

Caled stared at her. He wanted to shake her senseless for having told him such a ridiculous story, but the longer he looked at her haunted face, the more he began to believe her.

"I've never been any where so quiet," Syellen continued, her voice muted. "Not a single sound. You don't realize how much noise there is in Life until it's suddenly gone. No birds whistling, no buzz of insects or the tread of beasts...The only sound was the rustle of ash being sifted by the wind. So much ash...It was everywhere."

Caled felt his unstable stomach beginning to roil. His eyes fell to where Hadrian rode ahead of him. "And what of him," he prodded. "Where was he?"

Syellen lifted her eyes to the sorcerer's straight back. Caled knew she wasn't seeing this Hadrian, but was remembering the man she and Manix had found on that dead island. "There was a castle there," she said. "Manix said it was where the Order had lived. It was just...rubble. Broken stones around the remains of the furniture that had been inside it. Hadrian was sitting on one of the blocks." She blinked, focusing upon the present-day Hadrian. "He wasn't like he is now. When we approached him, he was empty. A husk. Manix touched him and he screamed." She shivered. "He screamed, Caled. As if his skin was so raw that just a single brush of contact was pure agony to him."

Any traces of alcohol that had remained in his system were completely gone now. Syellen's story had sobered the mercenary quickly.

He realized that whenever he looked upon Hadrian, upon that fair face tinged with its mysterious sorrow, he often saw the Hadrian he had been with in Rhiad before the fires. Hearing Syellen's account, he was forced to remember that much had changed. Hadrian was a murderer. Though a fine line separated what Caled did for a living from what Hadrian and his father had done, it existed nonetheless. Mass murder was pointless and wasteful. It did not discriminate.

And now Caled had learned that yet more destruction had occurred in Hadrian's presence. Though still unexplained, it was obvious that the sorcerer had been involved somehow. How many more had been killed? It sounded as though even the beasts of the island had been slaughtered. And for what?

"Be careful around him," Syellen said, dragging him from his thoughts. "Manix seems to think he can control Hadrian, but after what I saw on Shard's Point, I don't trust him at all. He was a part of that, Caled. I don't know how, but he had a part in killing that island."

Killing an island. Was that possible? Combining all that he had seen in Rhiad with what Syellen had just told him, Caled was disturbed to find that, not only did he think it possible, he thought it likely. Hadrian was dangerous. The mercenary would be wise not to forget that lest he, too, end up as ash upon the wind.