My Brother's Keeper

by **Mahaleth** on May 25th, 2015, 1:16 am

88 Spring 515

Evenings in Endrykas were filled with dancing and song around pavilion fires, when the women came out with their braids and their jewelry and the men showed off all they trapped during the day. Belhatir liked the evenings, when the air was crisp and there was enough noise that he could sneak out to be alone to watch the city from afar.

That night he sat alone again, but only at the mouth of his tent. Belhatir was wounded and didn't like to move too much so as not to disturb the fresh bandages that a young healer from the Opal Order put on Belhatir. She had been a novice, and clumsy, and too eager to show off her skills with grassland herbs, and now and then put too much pressure on a wound that by the time she was done, Belhatir nearly felt that he would have taken his chances against another zith.

Mareeya, sitting with the other women, looked back at him every now and then. She always did that when he was being quiet; stared at him as if she were afraid he would suddenly disappear. Belhatir winked at her. She pinched her lips against a little smile and looked back into the fire. He saw the stately arch of her neck, the fine hairs on her nape and shoulders glowing red from the fire. She was such a handsome woman, and it was a shame that she had no children. Perhaps, Belhatir thought, he would try again.

"Belhatir," a familiar male voice came from his left. Belhatir flinched, looked over his shoulder, and saw Belhaur looming over him.
"Father," Belhatir said, remebering to breathe. He sat up in front of his Ankal, pulling his back away from the cushions.
"Come with me," the Ankal said. "I need to talk to you."
Belhatir got to his feet, trying not to wince at the pain in his right side and on his chest. He followed Belhaur past the dancing and the storytelling, past the children play-fighting and laughing over each other, past the women feeding their husbands and the husbands showing off---there he might have caught Dravite's eye---and into the Ankal's tent. Belhaur closed the flap and muffled out the sounds of the rest of the pavilion. He didn't tell Belhatir to sit.

"You were in an incident with a zith," Belhaur said.
"I was," Belhatir said, "a few days ago when I was with The Watch."
"I know," Belhaur replied, "and Aris says you acted quickly and you did well. For a new recruit."
Belhatir thought he misheard. Praise from Belhaur? It was rare, especially for Belhatir. Belhatir didn't know what to say, so he said nothing.
"But you're not progressing quickly enough," Belhaur continued. "I'm getting old, Belhatir. You are my only son. Who am I supposed to pass the pavilion on to?" Belhaur sat cross-legged in the middle of his tent and lit a bit of tobacco from the market.
Belhatir felt a familiar sense of irritation and bitterness spread over his nape and his chest. "Give it to Dravite," he shot back. "He already knows Webbing."
"And you should already know, too, if you ever listened to me!" Belhaur said, raising his voice.
"I'm not interested," Belhatir told him. "I've never been interested. Give it to Dravite."

Belhaur stood and crossed the floor to where Belhatir was standing. His face was red, anger distorting his features. He raised his hand to strike Belhatir, and Belhatir's hand turned into a fist. Belhaur stopped, stared, and paced like an angry lion in front of his son.
"You FOOL!" Belhaur hollered, turning back to Belhatir. "You damn, lazy fool! I've worked too hard for this pavilion. I won't see someone who isn't of my blood as its Ankal."
"Dravite is Windborne," Belhatir said quietly.
"He is Blackwater," Belhaur hissed.
"He's more Windborne than you and I will ever be. Perhaps the pavilion should have stayed with the Blackwater."
The sound of skin hitting skin rang out in the tent when Belhaur struck Belhatir. It was followed by a tense, angry silence, Belhatir flexing his fingers. "You have no idea what you're talking about," Belhaur growled. "You'd be dead if it had."

by **Mahaleth** on May 25th, 2015, 2:03 am

"You were a baby," Belhaur began. "Five years old when the sickness came through the Blackwater pavilion. Five other children had died that season, five more were ill. You were among them. Spring of 498. I remember because I had pleaded for Cyprine, my best friend, to let me go to Endrykas and see the Opal Order. But he wouldn't let me. He wouldn't let any of us.

"He was a good man. A good leader. That's what everyone saw. But he was proud and he wouldn't ask for help from any of the other pavilions. He forbade anyone to go to Endrykas, even when we desperately needed to. Even when you were dying. If I hadn't done what I did many more would have died."

Belhaur stopped in his tracks. The silence was the one before a scream; fragile as glass and twice as sharp.

"What you did?" Belhatir whispered.
"Nothing--"
"What you did?!"
"--I misspoke--"
"WHAT DID YOU DO?!"
"What had to be done."

Father and son stood eye to eye, Belhatir's hands on his father's shirt, the knuckles white in the fabric. He felt his fingernails dig into his own palm and his teeth make marks on the back of his tongue. He tasted blood. His mind was screaming. His heart raced. Belhatir let go of his father's shirt and walked as fast as he could out of the Ankal's tent to his own. Belhaur didn't follow him, and Belhatir didn't speak to Mareeya when she came in from the campfires.

* * *

It was late. Dravite was by the fire, carving up some deer meat, when a clod of dirt hit him at his ear and dropped into his lap. Another one hit him on his side, and a third landed at his feet. They had played this game when they were younger, the other boy usually standing by the edge of the tents. Sure enough, when Dravite turned to look, there Belhatir stood. Except he wasn't smiling, and he was dressed for a journey.

When Dravite came out, muttering about what is it now or what time it was, Belhatir met him with a rough, tight embrace.

"I'm leaving," Belhatir said, moving back to look at his brother. "I can't tell you why I'm leaving, but this time I am." This time, he said, because Belhatir had, since he was a child, attempted to run away at least three times every year. Dravite might not have thought that Belhatir was serious this time, but the look on Belhatir's face---bent brows, rigid mouth---would have told him otherwise.

"You're not coming with me," Belhatir said, before Dravite got the idea to. "You're staying here." He whispered, so that they might not wake anyone else. "You're staying here and becoming the next Ankal and you'll have twenty thousand sons." Belhatir took Dravite's face in his hands with rough affection. "And they'll have twenty thousand sons." Belhatir gave Dravite's temple a brotherly kiss, embraced him again. "Don't trust my father," he whispered. "Don't believe anything he says."

by **Dravite** on May 25th, 2015, 3:36 am

Fingers tightened in the stallions black mane and leg muscles grew tense, hugging the animal’s sides tightly as it galloped at speed after the wounded deer. Dravite had managed to puncture the creature’s belly on the head of his spear, and was going back to inflict a death wound that would see the deer fall. He raised his spear, lining up the shot from the horse’s back, holding until they drew close enough. When he threw the weapon it merely grazed the buck’s shoulder before diving into the earth to stand upright.

Dravite hissed and turned his Strider back to collect the spear, racing past the weapon made of bone to snatch it from the earth and charge after his meal, which was slowly escaping. The buck’s left back leg was painted with blood, its shoulder oozing the red, warm liquid as it ran, skipped, and stumbled in an attempt to put distance between them. The Drykas man didn’t want to do too much more damage to the pelt, which he hoped to keep, but Cree was finally getting the idea of hunting and carried his rider swiftly towards his mark.

As they drew near, Dravite raised his weapon again but seconds before he moved to strike, the deer collapsed and rolled in the grass to come to a stop, sitting there as if it were about to drift off to sleep. The rest of the mob had already stopped running, pointing their ears forward towards the scene that quickly unfolded across the plain from where they stood. Dravite got down from Cree’s back and ran toward the buck on foot, trading his bone spear for his dagger as he closed the distance between himself and the wounded buck.

Something must have given way in the animal’s stomach, for the sheath of muscle was torn and saw the deer lose too much blood to maintain any speed. The Drykas horse lord took hold of the deer’s antler and pushed its head forward as his knee dug into its shoulder to keep it grounded. The edge of the dagger was set against the buck’s throat and swiftly the man drew his hand away, seeing the steel blade cut the life from the grounded creature, which struggled no more.

Dravite watched the life slip away from the young buck’s eyes and closed his own; another kill, this one, as terrible as it was, had been dealt a lot quicker than most of the kills he had made this season. “Blood for blood, life for death,” Dravite whispered to the wind, speaking to the goddess of his heart.

The buck couldn’t have been more than two years old and weighed about a hundred and seventy pounds. Dravite had to wrestle with the lifeless creature to get it up onto Cree’s back, glad he hadn’t strayed far from camp for it seemed he would be returning on foot. Though his Strider was strong enough to carry man and buck, Dravite needed the animal to be as rested as possible for the journey ahead, when Endrykas packed up and moved from the spring to summer grounds. “Come on, boy, let’s get this home.”

by **Dravite** on May 25th, 2015, 3:44 am

Belkaia greeted him with an elated smile when he got back to camp, one he couldn’t help but grin in return for. “What do you think?” He beamed, taking the buck by the antlers to drag him down from the horse, “Handsome isn’t he?”
His wife glanced at the animal and ran her fingers through Cree’s mane, which she had spent hours unknotting just to see it full of dust and twists again. “Lovely,” she agreed, looking into Dravite’s eyes.
He stopped, let go of the buck and moved his hands to the woman’s hips swiftly; it wasn’t like her to smile for no reason and all but ignore a hard day’s work. “Is all well, my love?”
“All is well,” she beamed again and threw her arms around her husband’s shoulders, her feet leaving the ground as he held her weight.

This was nice, Dravite thought, closing his eyes to savour the moment as Belkaia was rarely this affectionate or even intimate in general. Some days it seemed she found more joy in torturing him about something he had done wrong, than stand at ease in his presence. His hands felt warm against her back, her hair smelt like river water and soap, and her heart sung, thumping quickly against his chest. “I have good news,” the woman whispered as her feet found the ground and she pulled away from the embrace slowly.
“That is my favourite kind of news,” Dravite smiled and even managed to make Belkaia giggle.
“You will have to purchase a new tent soon.”
“I will,” the man promised, he still hadn’t gotten around to doing that after the fire had claimed their original tent.
“Soon,” Belkaia cooed.
“Soon,” Dravite echoed before stealing a kiss, something he found Belkaia rather receptive to.

He followed her into camp, dragging the deer which was almost as heavy as he was. Dravite had to dig his heels in to tug the deer through camp and some of the Windborne members cheered at his take for the day. “Best kill you’ve dragged home all season,” one of the warriors jeered and two others laughed.
Dravite smirked, proud of his take, “You watch,” he warned, “This is just the beginning, by next spring I’ll be taking down Grass-Bears.”
The man across from him smiled and threw a piece of fat on the fire to make it hiss. “You stick to deer, young buck; we don’t want you biting off more than you can chew.”

Dravite sat down with Belkaia near the fire, still eager to hear the news she was keeping from him. “Tidy up that deer,” she told him, “Then we will talk.”

He smiled, there was no arguing with the girl and so Dravite merely nodded and left to fetch his hunting knife. It was then he saw his friend Belhatir follow Belhaur into a tent; catching his eye for a split second; nothing good ever came of the two of them conversing alone in a room together. Dravite watched the opening of the tent for a moment before returning to the fire pit.

by **Dravite** on May 25th, 2015, 3:52 am

Belkaia set the pan down beside her husband before taking up her seat on the log. Kyanite drifted into her arms, parking himself against the woman’s left thigh to watch his father skin the deer. Dravite sighed, not fond of having an audience for such tasks and now that most of the pavilion had congregated to sing, share, and dance, he felt under pressure to perform.

He made the first cut along the belly with the knife from his hunting kit and turned to slice up the length of each limb, pressing his knee into the earth for balance. The skin came away relatively easy as the animal had bled out on the return trip home; poor Cree would probably need a soak in the river tomorrow. Dravite pulled the hide away from the legs, using the knife to cut at the flesh wherever it came stuck. He worked slowly, planning his cuts before he made them instead of rushing in like he usually did.

Before long most of the underside had been peeled away from the belly and the thin, muscular legs were left bare. Dravite cut the hind legs with the majority of the meat away from the deer and left them on their sides in the large pan; they were not to cook but to sell, along with the rest of the fine cuts he was able to selvage. The hunter managed to take away about thirty pounds of meat from the buck and set the pot side, he wood smoke it soon and take the meat to market come morning. Smoked venison usually went for four to five gold miza a pound, but Dravite would be happy for a quick sale, accepting no less than two and five silver per pound.

“Happy?” He smiled, nudging Belkaia playfully with his shoulder.
“Very,” the woman whispered, leaning in to press her lips to his jaw.

Now Dravite knew something was up, in the four years he had been married to Belkaia, she had only kissed him once and even that had seemed undesired on their wedding day. “Tell me,” he encouraged. “Tell me the news; I’m dying to hear it.”
“Shhh,” Belkaia grinned, closing her arms around Kyanite who had fallen asleep against her. She set her head on Dravite’s shoulder and spoke very quietly, “Kyanite will have a brother this winter.”
Dravite’s features stilled, the grey of his eyes fixed on Belkaia who stared back at him as if she were sure. “What?” He said baffled, not able to recall the last time they had shared a bed.
“That night under the stars,” Belkaia mouthed, “He will be here mid-winter.”

Dravite let the euphoric feeling sink in, causing his muscles to go slack, his whole body relaxed. Belkaia had been so sure that Kyanite would be a girl, which made Dravite smile; would she be wrong again? He kissed her temple, her cheek, the lids of her eyes, and her red, painted lips. “I love you,” he mouthed, knowing she wanted to keep it secret until it was impossible to hide; Belkaia was strong like that.
“I lo-,” the woman had gone to say when she noticed a stray ball of earth land in Dravite’s lap. Belkaia plucked up the dirt and nudged Dravite to go and see what was the matter with her brother, Belhatir. “I’ll get to bed with Kyanite; please don’t stay up too late.”
“I won’t,” Dravite promised and left to see what had gotten into Bel.

by **Dravite** on May 25th, 2015, 4:20 am

Dravite approached Belhatir with a huge smile on his face, still buzzing with the news Belkaia had given him. “You are not going to believe this,” he had made a start to say before Belhatir had cut him off abruptly, stating that he was leaving again and that Dravite was not allowed to follow him this time.

Dravite paused, his smile vanishing completely as he pulled out of the embrace, but held Belhatir’s arm tightly as if silently threatening not to let him go. “You’ll have twenty thousand sons,” Belhatir had teased, just as Dravite used to say to him when they were teenagers; it was their way of saying ‘don’t worry’ without getting soppy.

“I don’t want twenty thousand sons,” Dravite said quietly. “I want to grow old with my best friend, please Bel, don’t do this.”

He squeezed Belhatir’s arm as he spoke and suddenly felt as if he were close to begging, close to tears even; something told him Belhatir was serious this time, but now was different from all the other times the man had tried to run away. This time Dravite had good reason to stay.

“I don’t want to be Ankal, that is for you, my brother.”
“Don’t trust my father,” Belhatir whispered to Dravite as he leaned close, “Don’t believe anything he says.”

Were these just the bitter words of an angry son? Dravite searched the man’s eyes, there was something he wasn’t saying, something he would probably never tell Dravite. He embraced the man, this time of his own accord and wrapped an arm around his neck, the other with hand still glued to Belhatir’s forearm. “Promise me this is not forever,” Dravite hissed through clenched teeth, “I won’t leave Endrykas until I hear word from you. You will write?”

Of course he wouldn’t, he shouldn’t have to; Belhatir had been trapped his whole life, nothing should tie him here now. “Mareeya?” Dravite gathered she was staying when he noticed Dreamer all packed up and ready to go behind the man.
He watched the unchanging line of Belhatir’s mouth and was assured wordlessly of his question. “I’ll watch out for her… Wait here.”

Dravite turned and ran into camp to take up a fine cut of deer meat for Belhatir and whipped around when he heard Dreamer’s hooves drummed against the earth quickly, carrying his Windborne brother east. “Bel…”

by **Mahaleth** on May 25th, 2015, 6:30 am

"Promise me this is not forever."

Belhatir felt his eyes rim with tears, and as always he laughed them away. He ruffled Dravite's hair, pushed his head around. He did that often when they were children, because he had always been a little taller than Dravite. Always a little leaner, where Dravite was wider and built more of muscle and sinew. "Nothing is forever," Belhatir said, "but for you, my brother, I will write. Even if that means you'll barely understand anything. My Common isn't so good." He grinned as if to say that it were all going to be all right, that this was just another boyhood game of hide and seek. They would find each other in other places, maybe in other lives, but Belhatir knew they would find each other again.

They were brothers. Brothers always find each other.

"Mareeya?" Dravite asked.
Belhatir folded his lips into a line and shook his head no. Mareeya was better off staying in Endrykas, or finding a better man. A man who could give her sons. A man who could love her the way she deserved to be loved.

And the pavilion deserved an Ankal who would serve them well. An Ankal that wouldn't curse them with murder and dissention and all that his father's cursed veins passed on through to them. That was Dravite.

"Wait here," Dravite said, and turned back to the campfire.

Belhatir's throat burned with unshed tears. He watched his brother from a distance, aware that they were not boys anymore. Aware that they would never be boys again; that there would never be another summer where the only worries they had were what game to play next and how to get away with shirking their chores to play. Belhatir saw Belkaia and Kyanite, and for the first time in a long time, Belhatir prayed. He prayed for them to be safe, he prayed for his brother to be safe, he prayed for Caiyha to smile on them and to keep them in her favor. For Belkaia to have plenty of sons. For Dravite to live until he was old and bent and die in his bed a happy man. For Kyanite to grow into as good of a man as his father. For Mareeya to find happiness. He called on all of the gods he knew, asked them all to watch his family, each one of them, even if that meant forgetting him.

Before Dravite could finish cutting off the deer meat, Belhatir climbed on to the back of his Strider. Dreamer hesitated and looked back at the pavilion, her ears pointed to them, and then looked north as if wondering what was there.

"Come on," he told Dreamer. "Let's go see."

Belhatir clicked his tongue thrice and Dreamer galloped off. The wind whistling in his ears, Belhatir closed his eyes, desperate not to look back.

by **Dravite** on May 25th, 2015, 7:16 am

89 Spring, 515 AV
Early Morning

Dravite had stayed up all night, breaking his promise to Belkaia who would be mad at him when she woke. The deer had been skinned and cooked, with the best parts smoked to sell at market. Dravite check the pan having used the rest of the cuts to cook a stew for the pavilion; a delicious smell lingering in the camp, something nice for all the Windborne members to wake up to, all except one.

He was rubbing a second smothering of salt into the deer pelt from his preserving kit. The skin still had the antlers attached and Dravite had plans to make it into some kind of cloak. Dravite was careful to make sure all of the edges were salted before stretching the hide with rope from ceiling to the floor of the tent on the side that saw the most sun. He was busy fastening the last strap when Lazuli ran out of her tent half-dressed yelling for Belhaur. She approached her son slowly, hands reaching for him. “Where is he?”

Dravite swallowed, he hadn’t told anyone about Belhatir yet and knew nothing of the man’s father. “Belhaur? I don’t know,” Dravite admitted, “But his son left last night under the cover of darkness.”
Lazuli gripped her son and shook him, “And you didn’t go after him? Didn’t you hear them fighting in the tent?”
“No,” Dravite hissed, pulling his limbs from his mother’s hold, “I am not his keeper!”

A loud smacking sound echoed through the camp as Lazuli’s hand made contact with Dravite’s right cheek. She hit him so hard that the print of her hand was left as a mark on his skin. Dravite turned his head slowly to look at his mother and she slapped him again before cupping her mouth and sobbing into her hands. The man tasted blood where he had mistakenly nipped the side of his tongue under the force of his mother’s hand. She collapsed against her boy and he quickly caught her, wrapping his arms around the woman that had protected him all these years.

Belkaia appeared from behind them looking confused. Lazuli was sobbing uncontrollably against Dravite’s shoulder and when his wife gave him ‘the look’ he slowly explained. “Belhatir and Belhaur had a fight about something last night and now they’re both gone. Bel said goodbye to me before he left and I was up all night tracking him in the web, so I didn’t notice Belhaur slip away.”

At the mention of Belhaur, Lazuli cried harder, thumping her open palm against Dravite’s chest. “He’s dead I know it. He told me he was going to pray and I fell asleep before he returned,” Lazuli sobbed.
Belkaia wrapped her arms around Lazuli, her own eyes wet with threatening tears. “Why didn’t he say goodbye to me?” she mouthed, staring at her husband, “He is my brother, my blood!”
Dravite untangled himself from the women and stood. “Stay here, I will take Cree and go looking for Belhaur.”
“And what of Belhatir?” Belkaia asked.
“I traced his movements north east until he vanished. I think he is heading to one of the cities. He said he would write.”
Belkaia nodded, Dravite’s words giving her hope. “We will wake the rest of the hunters and send a search party out after you. Don’t go too far, my love.”

Dravite bobbed his head once and left to slip a yvas onto Cree’s back, who was still waking up; yawning and stretching his hind legs. His side was still covered in deer blood, but he didn’t make it difficult for Dravite to climb on; unusual, the man thought. He gave Cree a light kick and the two were off, cantering across the plain in search of their leader, Belhaur.

by **Ssezzkero** on June 28th, 2015, 8:43 pm

Grades

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Mahaleth

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Dravite

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Closed My Brother's Keeper