Second Sight

Title: Second Sight
Author: MakaiKitty
Rating: NC-17 (overall)
Category: Original Fantasy, "Strings of Fate" storyline, Direct sequel to "Perceived Perceptions", An Eye of the Beholder Book
Pairing: Liam/Jasim, Tamall/Danne, Others
Warnings: Slash, M/M, Anal, Oral, Daemon Sex, Blood-play, BDSM, Violence, Mentions of past child abuse/rape, Angst, Language, Death
Distribution: My website, My LJ and any LJs I choose to post at, AFF.net, and FicWad. All of my accounts are under the user name MakaiKitty. If you'd like to use it just let me know.
Disclaimer: The characters, daemon realms, and situations in this story are all original and belong solely to MakaiKitty. Please don't steal, borrow, take, or otherwise use anything from my fics.
Updates: Always on my LJ first. MakaiKitty. Stop by. Say hi!
Status: Work In Progress/Novel Length

Second Sight
Book II in the Eye of the Beholder Series

Chapter Twelve: The Beginning of the End of the Beginning

The third day of travel was, if possible, more awkward than the first, for Liam spoke to no one, Jasim was in a sour mood that was very out of character for the normally flirtatious and outgoing young daemon, and the guards remained quiet because no one really knew what was going on. The tension in the air was almost a tangible thing, like a heavy mist swirling around them as they moved along the empty roads. Even the animals seemed to sense it, the beasts moving with a subdued and sometimes agitated gate. Then it began to rain.

Everyone thought it somehow appropriate, although no one said anything. It didn’t seem wise.

The change in weather did not stop Liam, but he slowed his pace and rode with his head down as a concession to the rain. Although the terkarian refused to even consider putting on a cloak. The others were water daemons, and he himself was of the wildness of nature, so if they did not cover themselves then he would not. It might have been childish, and as the rain grew heavier and he was forced to push the dripping strands of his plum colored hair out of his face for what seemed like the hundredth time that day he actually wished for some reprieve from the constant spattering of rain in his face, but he refused to appear bothered in front of the other men. Normally he could have cared less, but his mood was a bit darker than normal, and so he was more apt to indulge his own stubbornness. And with every drop of rain that mood grew darker. Then the clouds flashed, the very air rumbled, and lightening hit, a bit too close for comfort as far as the animals were concerned; seeming to echo Liam’s inner turmoil.

***

The thunder gradually became louder and nearly constant, and Liam soon feared that he would need to lead his party to someplace dry to wait out the storm, which was not an idea that he was particularly fond of. The lot of them, all in one place, enclosed and with nothing to do but talk? It seemed like a very bad idea indeed. Then something to the side of the path just ahead of them caught his attention. He almost didn’t notice it at first, so strong had the storm become. Were he even slightly less the well trained captain of the royal guard, even a tad less the warrior, he might even have let it escape his notice all together. All it really was was the sense of movement, something fluttering about just beyond the line of the trees, but then a flash of color alerted Liam to the presence of more than just the normal woodland creatures that should have already fled in the face of the tempest.

He did his best to stay still, not to let whoever was watching them know that they had been noticed yet, and he had a moment to hope that the men accompanying him would be trained well enough to do the same. Then their pursuers made his hopes irrelevant.

They came from both sides of the path, a flurry of movement and raised voices, a bolt of magick hurtling past his head before Liam had even had time to unsheathe his sword. The soldiers behind him, to their credit, closed rank immediately around Jasim before the group of attackers had time to pinpoint his location in their parade. To anyone, it would be obvious that Jasim was the weakest of them in battle, and that made him an easy target. Some men pulled their swords out, preparing to charge the oncoming force, while others called forth the magick that dwelt within them. Makara were not know for summoning magicks from within, their power generally coming from the sea, but it seemed that some of the soldiers that had been sent to guard Jasim were not the typical makara, not weakened by distance from the water of their homeland. Liam was grateful for this foresight, and for a moment he thought better of Lord Tournkin for it. A moment was all that he had.

There were shouts from both sides, Liam calling orders to Karsten and the others while the newcomers seemed to quarrel amongst themselves, pushing at each other as often as they swung a sword at Liam and his borrowed soldiers. Liam thought this odd, and he considered their behavior at the same time that another bolt of magick swished past him, closer than the last. That was when he realized that the power behind it was weak, barely more than the average child at court could summon, and he suddenly knew that this was not the threat that he had been half dreading/half begging for the entire journey. Danne was many things, but weak was not one of them. This was not his magick that they were dealing with. Not even close.

It only took a moment for Liam to tire of the fight. It seemed pointless if Danne or Tamall were not present.

Liam turned with his sword in hand and swung wide, his movements almost lazy, not even trying for skill or precision, catching the man who had been charging his mount across the shoulder with ease. Dark green blood sprayed in a wide arch as the man was felled. The fact that he did not immediately get up when the wound was not a mortal one confirmed with utter certainty for Liam that they were not dealing with the mercenary that he had been expecting, and he confidently turned his back on the dozen or so men that were clashing with the soldiers from Paaragora in order to look for Jasim. He spotted the boy, eyes a little wide but still firmly seated on his stead and doing a fair job of staying out of the main fray, and he rode straight towards him, leaving the other men to take care of whoever it was that had foolishly decided to attack them. He had no doubt that they could handle whatever was thrown at them.

“Keep one of them alive,” Liam shouted above the sounds of clashing swords and the sizzle of hastily thrown magicks, giving Karsten an order as he passed him by. From the look of their attackers and the strength of their magicks he was relatively certain that they were dealing with one of the weaker mortal races of daemons, or even with half-breeds who had not bred true, and he knew that they would not be getting up once the soldiers were done with them. “I want to know who sent them.”

Karsten nodded, grinning like a mad man as he spurred his animal forward, caught up in the thrill of battle. Liam understood his desire to taste blood, even if their opponents were not up to par, but he knew that his duty was to Jasim and not to his terkarian instincts to hunt and attack and fight. He suspected there would be opportunity enough for that later anyway.

He positioned himself beside Jasim, sword still at the ready, prepared for trouble but already having decided that he was unlikely to find it. Whoever these men were, dangerous warriors who were a threat to their mission they were not. He felt confident leaving them to the Paaragorian soldiers.

“Are you alright?”

Jasim nodded, eyes still on the action before them, which had now become a one-sided slaughter. The rain soaked path, once covered in mud and bits of flotsam and jetsam that had been collected from the surrounding forest, was now running with rivers of blood. It was nearly over though, and only two men still stood, trying desperately to hold their own against a trained unit of the High Lord’s personal guard. The only reason the two weren’t dead already was that the Paaragorians, stressed from the past few days of uncomfortable travel, were playing with them. Delaying the inevitable.

“It’ll be over soon,” he assured Jasim, who was watching their attackers fight their final battle. Something about the ridged set of his body, taller and straighter in the saddle than he had seen him in days, and the way that he refused to so much as blink, let alone look away, told Liam that Jasim had never seen such violence. It wasn’t a surprise, he doubted that many would-be invaders actually made it to the shores of Paaragora, but it had Liam a little worried for the boy. When he wasn’t being a brat or a flirt, when his features weren’t guarded or a carefully controlled mask, Jasim actually looked very young. He thought of his prince back home, of the way that Constantine had shied away from violence when his father had thought it appropriate after dinner entertainment, and he suddenly had an urge to shield Jasim from such sights in a way that he had not been able to do for Conni. “We can go further back on the path. You don’t need to watch this.”

Still Jasim did not look away, but at last he spoke to his would-be protector, “No. I want to… see.”

Liam thought that he understood, and so he did not move to make the younger daemon leave, nor did he leave his side. They would watch until the last. Together.

“Captain Liam,” came a shout at last, “We’ve got him.”

Liam dug his heals in and pushed his stead forward, Jasim at his side. He considered telling him to stay, but he decided that he was willing to let the boy move with him, so long as he did not interfere and he stayed far enough away from the prisoner to keep out of danger. He’d reacted to the sudden attack better than Liam would have ever expected of him, so it seemed wrong to treat him otherwise now that the danger was seemingly over. Not that Liam wouldn’t be watching, protecting and shielding him, least the man before them try for one final, desperate attack. Men who knew that their lives were over were the most unpredictable sort, in his experience.

“Who sent you,” he said as soon as he was within earshot of the only surviving member of the attack party, kneeling in a circle of well armed Paaragorian guards. “Why did you attack us?”

The man was short and stocky, brown hair matted with old dirt and grime that had nothing to do with the drying blood and mud that now decorated his form from head to toe, his torn clothes in poor condition before ever he had seen battle. His eyes had a sunken appearance to them, and in their depths was despair, mixed in with the last remnants of blood lust. He’d meant to kill them if he could, Liam was certain of that. It dissolved any pity that he might have otherwise felt for the man. He was tasked with protecting Jasim, seeing him safely to his king’s hands, and nothing would keep him from that duty.

“We bit off more than we could chew.”

“You didn’t do this alone,” Liam spoke with certainty as he dismounted and walked closer to their captive. “I’ll ask again, who sent you?”

The man said nothing, the wind howling through the trees and the rain spilling to the ground to wash away the blood that had been shed were the only sounds to be heard, but Liam was a patient man. He would stand out in the rain all night if need be. He would have his answers.

The movement was lightening fast, and before Liam could tell him not to, that he had already been beaten and there was no need for further violence against an unarmed opponent, Karsten had lashed out and smacked the prisoner across the face with the back of his hand. Blood flew in an arch from the man’s mouth, his body falling momentarily to the ground; he spit out at least one tooth as he righted himself. He glared at Karsten, but said nothing.

“The captain asked you a question, scum,” Karsten sneered down at the captive man, confident in his superiority, “Answer him. Who sent you?”

“Karsten,” the name was a growl, barely heard above the thunder and the wind, but it stilled Karsten’s hand before he could strike another blow.

Liam gave the other man a stern look, his eyes full of threats for what would happen should he be disobeyed, and he smiled inwardly at the flicker of fear that he saw in the soldier’s eyes. Liam nodded, knowing that he was clearly understood, before kneeling down to see the prisoner more clearly.

“What is your name?” Liam tried a different line of questioning. The man had failed at his task, and both his magick and his blood were weak, but Liam thought that he had made a noble try. It had been brave of a small group of mortal assassins to attempt to take on an entire party of trained soldiers. Stupid, of course, but brave all the same.

“What does it matter,” the man answered, a sad certainty in his tone, “I’ll be dead in a moment anyway.”

“I have no reason to kill an unarmed man,” Liam promised, “I will see that you’re sent back to Paaragora with these soldiers, as a prisoner, but still alive.”

The laughter held a despairing edge to it. “So, either the High Lord kills me or he does? Either way, I’ll still be dead.”

“He,” Liam questioned.

“He acts like only the other one is crazy, like he’s the safe one, the sane one, but there’s more madness in his eyes than I thought one man could hold,” he’d been looking down, seeing something that Liam could not, but soon he straightened up and looked Liam in the eye. There was acceptance in those blood-shot brown orbs. “You’re fearsome, I’ll give you that, we’ve heard rumors about you even this far out, but nothing you can threaten me with can compare to what he will do if I betray him.”

“You’re probably right,” Liam conceded, “Danne is the monster that I hope never to become.”

The man’s eye widened for a split second before a weak smile appeared on his face. Those small clues were all that Liam needed to confirm his suspicions. He was far more pleased with the information than he should have been; than he had expected to be. He was being hunted while he had an inexperienced young daemon to protect, who could neither ride nor fight with a soldier’s skill, and that was a very bad thing, he told himself. On the other hand he might finally get a second chance to punish Danne for all that he had done to Constantine the previous year, and try as he might, he just couldn’t see that as a problem.

There was a whispering among the men, they had all either heard of or met the mercenary at some point and to a one they knew that if Danne was hunting them then the mission had just become considerably more dangerous than they had originally expected.

“We’re splitting up,” he hadn’t wanted the large party that they were traveling with in the first place, so the decision wasn’t a hard one to make, “I’ll take Jasim with me, go off the trail, and the rest of you can lay a false trail along the path. With any luck we’ll be half way to Trovilla before they even realize that we’re not with you.”

He’d expected an argument, but Karsten only nodded, motioning to his men to remount and prepare to move out. It was actually more of a surprise than the unexpected attack had been moments before. It was not, however, the last surprise of the afternoon it would seem. One moment he had turned towards Jasim, to make sure that he was secure in the saddle and ready to ride harder than they had for the entirety of the journey, the next he heard the unmistakable rattling gasp of a man’s last breath. Liam looked back to the kneeling prisoner just in time to see Karsten pull his blade out of the still kneeling man’s back. He looked up at Liam with eyes already gone foggy, while Karsten looked at him with dark eyes that had turned just a shade darker than usual, a small self-satisfied smile on his lips. The body fell to the ground with a wet smacking sound, landing in a puddle of mud and rainwater, blood flowing away in rivulets with the rain while Karsten wiped his blade on the already soiled edge of his cloak with practiced ease.

“You were done with him, right?”

Liam instantly felt the rising heat of anger boiling within him. The man had tried to kill them, and he would have been made to pay for that eventually, but to kill an unarmed man when he was kneeling in front of you and utterly at your mercy was something that Liam could not accept. As he watched the blood run with the rain he had an urge to see more blood join it, and he knew that his eyes, normally a dark shade of purple, were surely as crimson as the blood that had been spilt. He did not attempt to push the rage down. If he was honest with himself he knew that he’d wanted to see Karsten bleed almost since they had met.

He growled, the sound low and rumbling, startling the animal who’s bridle he still held, but that was all that he was allowed because someone else saw to Karsten first. He hadn’t seen Jasim dismounting, hadn’t seen him stomping towards the cluster of soldiers and the body of the fallen prisoner, but now he saw him as he stopped in front of Karsten and glared up at the much taller man. He saw Karsten smile down at the younger daemon, a smirk that mocked the anger that was clear on Jasim’s features, and then Jasim pulled back his arm and slapped the soldier as hard as he could across the face. Karsten’s head actually snapped to the side, and when he looked back at Jasim there was blood on his split lip and a look of utter disbelief clear on his face.

“How could you,” Jasim demanded, fists balled at his sides, his body visibly shaking as he shouted up at Karsten, “How could you kill him when he couldn’t defend himself? He was unarmed. He’d already been defeated. What’s wrong with you?!”

Karsten looked like he would respond with violence of his own, but Liam was suddenly there beside Jasim, an arm placed protectively around his shoulders. He wasn’t sure if he was holding Jasim back or warning Karsten off. Both seemed like a good idea. Something of his earlier rage, mostly dissolved in the shock of seeing Jasim react as he had, must have still shone in the depths of his eyes because Karsten instantly backed away with his hands held up in a gesture of surrender.

“We’re splitting up,” Liam said again, leading Jasim back to his mount and helping him back into the saddle, never once looking back for fear of what he might do should Karsten so much as utter a word of protest.

No one argued.

TBC ...