“How are you doing?”

“I’m fine,” Tel snapped and dropped to the ground next to the prisoners. Kias made room for him and he automatically smiled in response. Just as quickly his smile slipped away.

Vercia followed him down.

“You don’t sound fine.”

“I am.”

“Can you get in to see Talmon?”

“Leave me alone.”

Verica backed off and stared at the fire. Four days had passed, and during those four days in the city, the war prisoners were subjected to watching the gallows being built to hang their leader. On the morrow.

And Tel wasn’t allowed to see Talmon. It was eating him up inside, being unable to be with his love. Verica wished he could block out the thoughts that were bombarding him from the people sitting around the campfire.

Wasn’t there something he could do? He gazed up at the moon and wondered what good was it being the son of, and the lover of a god if he was helpless. He watched Tel with worried eyes and didn’t hear the approaching footsteps until someone politely coughed.

Tel shot to his feet. “Can I see him?”

The man, the duke’s nephew, Verica had learned, smiled and nodded. Then his smiled dropped away. “He’s to die on the midday hour tomorrow. This . . . This will be your last chance to see him.”

Tel’s heart was breaking, Verica could hear it. He nodded and wiped his eyes. “I-I know. Please, just take me to him.”

Helvetu held out his hand and Tel followed. They left the yard and Verica felt his heart break. He spun on his foot and ran out of the fire’s light and into Tintagel’s arms.

“It’s not fair!”

~*~*~

It was fully dark by the time they reached the small hut that they were keeping Talmon prisoner in. Helvetu left him at the door and Tel entered into the darkened room, squinting his eyes to try to make out the form laying on the cot.

Talmon sat up. “Who’s there?”

“Talmon,” his voice wobbled and he tripped his way to the cot, falling into his arms. Talmon kissed his face, his nose, his lids, his mouth.

“You shouldn’t be here, Tel. There’s no point for you to be here.”

“No point? How can you say that? I want to be with you always. Don’t send me away when I’ve finally gotten to hold you again.” He shoved him back onto the cot and crawled over him. He rubbed their bodies together and sucked on the skin of his neck. Talmon grabbed his arms and tried to pull him away.

“No, you have no need to see me like this.”

“Talmon,” he said and bit his lip. Talmon gasped and licked his sore lip, looking up at Tel in the darkness. “I love you. If you’re going to leave me forever, then at least give me tonight.”

Talmon wrapped his arms around Tel and flipped him over on the bed so that he was laying on top. He hungrily kissed him, trying to take in his taste so that he would never forget it. Tel kissed back just as greedily, his fingers raking through his hair and his legs wrapping around his hips.

They both groaned as their already hardened cocks rubbed together. Talmon dug into Tel’s trousers and found his flesh ready and wet for him. He shoved the cloth aside and left him only long enough to shed his own clothing. Tel couldn’t make him out in the darkness, but wasted no time in disrobing himself and opening his legs to Talmon.

The Warlord settled between his legs and began undulating his hips against Tel’s while tasting the skin of his neck, chest, and nipples. Tel ran his hands over Talmon’s back and ass, pulling him closer.

“In,” he panted. “I want you in me now.”

Grunting an agreement, Talmon flipped Tel again so that he was facing away from him and shoved a finger into him. Tel cried out, pushing against that finger. Talmon slowly withdrew his finger and slid it back in, achingly slowly, dragging another cry, one of pleasure, from Tel.

“I don’t have anything.”

Tel reached for his other hand and took the digits of it into his mouth, sucking noisily. Talmon pressed himself against Tel’s backside, one arm around his waist while Tel sucked on each of his fingers until they were wet with his saliva.

Talmon ran his tongue down his spine and pulled his fingers from Tel’s mouth, only to put them back into Tel, deeper into him. He arched his back and mewed for more. Talmon inserted a second, then a third, stretching him and preparing him for something much larger.

“Talmon, please, I need you now.”

Then Talmon was slamming into him, frantically, wantonly. Tel cried out and

took every inch, begging for more from him. Talmon reached around and grasped his cock, pumping it and bringing Tel to his climax far too soon. Moments later, Talmon shouted with his own release.

He collapsed over Tel and fought to catch his breath a moment before moving off him and taking him back into his arms. Tel murmured softly his love and kissed his chin.

Talmon smiled while rubbing a hand down the arch of his spine. “That was too quick. Let me love you properly.”

He rolled Tel onto his back and smiled wickedly.

~*~*~

Talmon watched Tel sleep, the faint light of day sprinkling over his silvery brown hair and Talmon once again noticed how much he looked like the moon god, Tintagel.

He claimed that he wasn’t his son, but who knows? He touched a finger against his cheek in a feather light touch, desperate not to wake him, desperate to wake him. He fisted his hand before he went too far and stood from the bed, already dressed and paced the small cell.

He didn’t know if he could let him go if he saw his eyes pleading with him once more. He didn’t know if he could walk to the gallows with a straight back and squared shoulders if he knew Tel was there watching.

It would break him like nothing else could.

When the door opened and two guards stepped in, he quickly followed them out, refusing to look back at the still sleeping Tel. Hopefully, as he was a deep sleeper, he wouldn’t wake until long after he was dead.

It would be better that way, for them both.

~*~*~

Verica didn’t know what to do. Hundreds of people clogged the town gallows where the hangman stood alone. They had said that the Warlord was to be hanged at the noon hour, but they were bringing him out just as dawn was spreading its rays over the horizon.

Tel was nowhere in sight. Nobody had seen him since that duke’s heir had summoned him away.

Cursing to the surprise of those nearest to him, Verica spun on his heel and went in search of the former slave. He wasn’t in the prisoners’ camp, nor was he in the temple closest to the camp. Then he remembered that he had been taken to see Talmon the night before.

Running, hearing the drums quicken their pace as they slipped the noose over the Warlord’s neck, Verica dodged some guards, ignoring them when they shouted at him. He pounded on the door of the old hut that had served at the Warlord’s cell and called out for Tel.

Seconds later, he opened the door, pulling his tunic over his head, his hair a wild mess very similar to his own. That gave him pause. Because he trusted Tintagel, he never questioned him when the god had said that Tel wasn’t his brother, but moments like this always gave him pause.

“Where did they take him?”

“To the gallows.”

“It’s still morning.”

Verica shook his head. “They are doing it now. Hurry.”

They turned and started to race toward the gallows, but the guards from before caught up with Verica then and caught them bodily. Verica hissed as the hand wrapped around his hair, twisting and pulling him up short.

“Let go!” Tel screamed, swinging his small fists and doing absolutely no damage. Verica couldn’t move without pain splitting his head and the pain in Tel’s voice was doing strange things to his mind. It wasn’t only the pain he let through into his voice, but the pain within him, things only Verica could hear.

The guard that was holding Tel twisted his arm and brought him to his knees. Growling, Verica reached behind him and snagged the short blade at the guard’s hip. In one smooth motion, he sliced through his hair, the blade so sharp it cut it like fog. Instantly, he was free and nearly lost his balance. His head momentarily felt dizzy as the loss of all that weight disappeared, but, with a shake of his head, he brandished the blade at the guard holding Tel.

“Release him.”

The guard stared coolly at him, his own hand reaching for the sword at his own hip. Verica swiped the blade and drew a thin line of blood from the back of his hand.

“Release him!”

Cursing, the man released his hold and sucked on the blood dripping from his hand. Like an arrow shooting from a bow, Tel was once again off, running toward Talmon and the crowd surrounding him.

He was engulfed into the swirling mass and had to fight his way to the front. He could just make out two forms above all the people in front of him and used that as his lodestone. He elbowed and shoved his way forward, tears springing to his eyes as he heard the countdown and the droning of the Justice priest.

He finally caught sight of Talmon on the gallows, a thick rope twined around his neck, his eyes lowered as he ignored the people around him.

“Talmon!” he screamed and Talmon’s head shot up. His eyes widened, then he smiled slowly, sadly. Tel choked on a sob and tried to reach out toward him, but the people before him wouldn’t move and shoved back against him. He couldn’t hear them anymore, his ears full of his own heartbeat and the rushing of blood in his ears.

He really started crying when Talmon’s eyes softened upon him, shining with love, a love that was soon to be gone forever.

He didn’t speak the words, but Tel felt them to his core, shaking him and breaking his precarious hold.

“I love you.”

The prop was kicked out from under his feet and Tel screamed when Talmon fell, his neck snapping with an audible crack that brought Tel to his knees. He stared at the body hanging from the rope, swinging with the sudden stop. He couldn’t look away.

That was it? It was all over?

A pair of arms came around him then and he felt Verica whispering something he couldn’t hear into his ear. Verica pulled him back against his chest and rocked with him. He put his hand over his eyes, but Tel pulled it away, refusing to look away.

He had to know. He had to see.

Talmon was dead.

They were cutting him down and Tel jumped to his feet, shoving his way to the body and cursing at the guards that tried to stop him. He threw himself onto the body, wrapping his arms around him, glaring at the people that tried to make him move.

“I’m taking his body back to his home.”

Mocking laughter met this order until a man stepped up and there was instant silence. He looked down at Tel with expressionless eyes, hiding his real thoughts.

“You may take him.”

“Sire!” Several protested. He held up his hand and they fell silent.

“I don’t want him buried in the south. Take him north. I’ll even give you an escort.”

Tel dropped his glare and lowered his eyes to the body he was still holding. He nodded and murmured his thanks. Then there was a flurry of movement as Verica directed men to lift his body and take it back to the cell where they could prepare a wagon to transport them.

Through it all, Tel sat at Talmon’s side, holding the cold hand and shedding useless tears. At night, Verica sat beside him, quietly saying prayers that would guide the dead soul to the afterlife. Tel rested his head against his shoulder and for the first time noticed how strong he was.

The next three weeks passed in a blur for Tel, a blur filled with only the cold corpse and pain. He lost weight at he found he couldn’t eat and couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t until they were back in the midlands that Tel found out that their escort was none other than Helvetu.

He braved a smile at Tel one day when Verica was forcing him away from the cadaver and to fresh water and food. Tel looked at him for the first time and realized that life went on.

People were still living; days were still dawning and the moon still rose with the night. He sighed and didn’t return to Talmon’s body that evening, but stayed at Verica’s side, shoulders slumped and uneaten food on his plate.

“Tel?”

“Hum?”

“I understand that Dark Cavern is only a few days away.”

“Oh.”

“Do you know how he will want to be . . . Passed on?”

Tel shrugged. “I suppose the same way his uncle was. He admired his uncle. Always wanted to be just like him.”

“Uh,” Helvetu interrupted, “His uncle was Dirk the Red, right?”

Tel nodded and Helvetu whistled. “He came damn near close. I don’t think he’s killed nearly as many, but his reputation is further sprung.”

Tel rested his head on Verica’s shoulder and closed his eyes. Clearly, this conversation was over. Helvetu sighed and shifted awkwardly. “Um, Tel?”

“What?”

“The king has given me Dark Cavern. I’m now Lord Dark Cavern.”

Tel’s eyes snapped open and he glared at the man. A muscle in his jaw worked as he fought to control his tongue, then he shot to his feet. “Verica, I wish to retire. Where are you sleeping this night?”

Verica stood, then led him away.

Two days later, they arrived at Dark Cavern. The day after that, with little fanfare, they sent Talmon into the afterlife. Tel watched the sun set alone, sending his soul into the keeping of the night. He folded his hands before him and mouthed the words to the proper prayers, tears filling his eyes. Finally, the last rays of the sun left the sky and Tel yelled, “I love you.”

He fell to his knees then, sobbing. “Don’t leave me! I wanted forever! I wanted forever.”

He cried himself sick that night and the next week passed in a fever for him. Verica sat with him often and told him of the goings on within the castle as they adjusted to the new ruler. Tel listened with half an ear, his mind on other things that Verica could plainly hear without trying.

The young priest held his hand and tried to speak to his soul, to convince him to come back to the land of the living. Tel didn’t have the fight in him, so sore was he, that he had no choice but to live as long as Verica was at his side.

He forced Verica to speak with him.

“Kias is your brother?”

Verica frowned at him in confusion as they walked a path through the grounds. “You know that’s true.”

“He looks nothing like you, or like Tintagel.”

Verica shrugged and kicked a rock out of the path. “He has a human mother. Titnagel says that because of that, he looks nothing like how he wanted.” He snorted and fingered his shorn hair.

His silver hair had been something Tintagel had loved. He fairly went into a rage when he discovered what Verica had done, but he still wouldn’t let him keep it covered.

Tel nodded his understanding, but Verica had to wonder how much he really understood.

“Then. . . Why do I look so much like Tintagel?”

Verica stopped and touched a hand to Tel’s arm. “I wondered at that as well.”

“You’ve never asked?”

“I have, but Tintagel is as elusive as a rainbow at night.” He smiled. “And he has the most unique techniques to distract me.”

Tel smiled and Verica felt something ease within him. He smiled. He remembered how to smile.

“Perhaps I’ll answer that now.”

They both jumped when Tintagel suddenly appeared before them. He leaned forward and brushed a kiss over Verica’s lips before looking at Tel. “Do you know who I am?”

Tel nodded. “You’re Tintagel, moon god.”

“What else?”

“The guiding light.”

“Yes. Do you know who Death is?”

Tel hesitated. “Judgment, right? The final choice and the everlasting path.”

Tintagel nodded. “Yes, all that, but what else? Do you not remember your pantheon?”

Tel frowned and Verica tired to think. Their people had many gods, but they had always worshiped one god above all others, the guiding light, the moon. Soon he was going to be replaced by the passion god, the sun. There were others, but as a priest of the moon, it wasn’t Verica’s duty to know them.

Then he gave a start as he realized what Tintagel was hinting at.

“He’s your brother. Judgment.”

Tel shook his head. “Why are you asking us this? What does it matter?”

Tintagel arched a black brow. “Let me introduce you.” He stepped aside and another form appeared from a cloud of black shadows. At first they couldn’t make out his features, but then the shadows parted and they gasped.

“This is Judgment, my twin. Your father.”

~*~*~

“The truth is, our brother wanted to use you to create a rift between those that worship the moon and those that worship the sun. As it stands, these two sects are peaceful with each other, but he had hoped to start a bloody war under his name. He wants to be the only powerful god.”

Tel cringed into a corner, his knees drawn up to his chin. “Why me? How?”

“Because you’re the child of Judgment, your power lays in swaying how people act and react. Case in point, the Warlord. He’s ever been bloodthirsty, but you found his heart and he gave it to you willingly. You turned him from a cold hearted murderer into a man with passion.”

“He still killed indiscriminately.”

“Even so, he changed. He shall pass into the next life without fear for his soul, for he knew how to be kind.”

“Is that your judgment?”

“It is.”

Tel bowed his head and tried to smile. At least he would live strong in the next life. Even if Tel never got to see him again. That was the one thing Tel hated about death, the afterlife promised peace for the soul, but you were alone on that journey. How could there be peace if there were another with you? It didn’t make any sense to him, just now.

“I still don’t understand how.”

“Look around you, child. Do you not see all the people changing? Those that killed your love were worshipers of the sun.”

“There were worshipers of the moon as well.”

“Yes, but look at this castle. It’s changing. The emblems of the moon are being removed and replaced with those of the sun. He wanted you to hate the sun, to think of him as your enemy. As you were a servant of the moon, you would turn on your god for not protecting the Lord of Fire, start a war.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“He didn’t know that. That’s one thing he never understood.”

“What’s that?”

“You’re mother was a dove.”

“What!?”

Judgment smiled fondly. “An innocent with only kindness in her soul. She passed that on to you. You are two very unique beings combined into one. Cold judgment, and sweet love. You could never force someone to kill and fight for you. His war will not happen via you.”

Tel smiled. “I’m glad.” He rubbed his arms and looked questioningly at Judgment. “Was she really a dove? A bird?”

He nodded and laughed at Tel’s frightened expression. “You’re human, Tel. I created you that way.” He caught Tel’s cheek in the palm of his hand. “Live with the humans, and teach them love.”

“It hurts.”

“Love always does. But life is nothing without love. You’re not the Judgment child, but the Hope child, a creation between something dead and something alive, a creation from between two sides of the same coin. You are the middle ground. Live and by doing so, show humans what it means to live.”