Heart Wood, page 20
Hendrik nodded. “That’s one way to put it.”
“It all adds up to me having too much power in the situation. It might be seen as taking advantage, if I fuck my way through the forest with you.”
Hendrik cleared his throat and flushed slightly, but then laughed.
Dagan winced. “Apologies. That was graphic.” At least, it obviously was for Hendrik. For Dagan it was just the precise thing he’d done with multiple others…and had occasionally fantasized about doing with Hendrik, on quiet nights in the woods, listening to him breathe on the other side of the fire.
“No.” Hendrik waved his hand in the air again. “No, it’s—it’s fine.”
“You take my meaning, though? Is it fair, when you’re relying on me for something so important just now, for me to want something from you?”
Hendrik narrowed his eyes, leaning forward again. “How do you know I wouldn’t give it anyhow?”
Dagan couldn’t find his breath for a moment. He had to remind himself this was entirely hypothetical—or, well, at least functionally hypothetical. Hendrik may be attracted to him, as well, but neither of them would or could, at the moment. “I can’t; that’s just the thing. I could never be sure. So even if you think you’d like to—”
“Fuck our way through the forest?” Hendrik cut in, laughing.
Dagan did too. “Yes, that. It wouldn’t be right.”
“Because of power.”
“Precisely.” It wasn’t even a question for Dagan; he firmly believed that was the correct, ethical way to go about his job. If he and Hendrik found one another later and still had this tension between them, then so be it. For now, the idea was a fantasy and nothing more. He’d always had an active fantasy life. It was what kept his actual sex life interesting. He asked, “Was that the case, with the guards?”
“Maybe. I don’t know, though.” Hendrik’s jaw worked. “He didn’t exactly rely on me for the reasons I rely on you…mostly just bodyguard duty and companionship.”
Dagan scooted to the edge of the bed. This past-life tidbit was just what he’d been waiting for, from Hendrik. “Did you have dominion over him? Could you tell him what to do?”
Hendrik actually laughed out loud, that time, a sharp bark of a laugh. “Fuck, no.”
It made Dagan smile, too. “Could you choose another charge, or could he choose another guard, if things became uncomfortable? They sometimes do.”
Hendrik shook his head.
“Perhaps that’s why, then. Or just an overabundance of caution. Could he tell you what to do?”
Hendrik raised an eyebrow. “He could try.”
That time it was Dagan who laughed.
Hendrik appeared amused too, but slowly his brow furrowed again and he seemed to lose himself in thought.
After a few moments of silence, Dagan almost whispered, “Who was he?” He was almost afraid to ask, but Hendrik seemed so open and curious just then…
Hendrik replied almost immediately with: “Kass.”
“Kass,” Dagan tried out the name. For some reason it made him smile. “It’s a sweet name.”
“Kaspar,” Hendrik whispered, lips barely moving. A little louder, he said, “He was sweet. He was too sweet.”
Dagan just watched him, afraid to ask anything else. The little he’d just heard explained a great deal, anyhow: Hendrik had been this Kass’s guardian and, if not his lover, certainly his beloved.
Hendrik’s hands bunched up against his thighs, then released again. His expression was tight but less sad than confused, as if he couldn’t understand what he was saying. “But he was also what they made him. I mean, so was I, but he never got the chance to be anything else but sweet. I don’t think he would’ve been…but I’ll never know.”
Dagan waited a moment before leaning forward and touching Hendrik’s knee gently. “I’m sorry you were both denied that.”
Hendrik smiled, eyes crinkling. There was something new, something soft about the expression that had never been in it before. “Me too.”
Dagan nodded and sat back again, leaning on his hands. He could’ve left it there, but the openness in Hendrik in that moment called to him. He ventured, “Do you want to tell me? How he died?”
Though he nodded, Hendrik was quiet for a long time. Moments disappeared into silence, and Dagan waited, patient and attentive, hoping he’d finally learn what had sent this misleadingly quiet, deeply passionate, and clearly very broken man to the Heart Wood.
Finally, Hendrik said, “There’s something in the City that kills its own. Only the blooded families have to give up their children to be raised by the priests—they’re called Children of the Blood. And eventually, they’re supposed to ascend into heaven and keep watch over the city from there as gods.
“But they don’t. They end up in wooden boxes with their throats torn out by something.”
Dagan thought carefully before he suggested, “Sacrifices?”
Hendrik cocked his head slightly, eyes narrowing. “What?”
“They’re sacrificed? Like people used to do to the old gods?” That was what it sounded like, anyhow. No wonder Hendrik hadn’t wanted any stories of gods, that night in the Apricot winery.
Hendrik shook his head. “I don’t know any old gods.”
Dagan said, “Mostly it was animals slaughtered for them, before our people knew any better. There are some stories of humans being offered up, though, when the gods were especially angry.”
“They sound like shit gods.” Hendrik made a face.
“They were, actually. And they weren’t real, anyhow. Just manifestations of human fear and anxiety. We talk about the forest gods, now, but they’re really just sort of…humanized versions of the forces that rule the forest.”
Hendrik shook his head. “Whatever killed Kass is real.”
“So it would seem,” Dagan allowed. It seemed more likely Kass had been murdered by a human masquerading as a god, of course, but Hendrik could come to such conclusions in his own time and space.
After another long moment, Hendrik said, “I blamed the priests, because they took him away to become a god.” He looked at his feet, dangling off the edge of the bed. “I killed two of them when I found them with his body. With my bare hands.”
Ah, yes, there it was: the rest of the damage. Of course, as a scout, it was Dagan’s duty not to bring a murderer into the midst of any of the Heart Wood settlements, let alone ensconce him there. And yet, many refugees had such stories of violence and loss, and so his training allowed for that. He was no judge, only a safety net of sorts. The Council would hear his story and decide; Dagan only had to hear it and make certain he was safe for himself. So all he said was, “The priests run the City, yes?”
Hendrik looked back up, apparently surprised by the question. Had he expected to be judged, denied, at least chastised? Someday, maybe, Dagan would ask; for now, he only knew his reaction had been the right one.
Hendrik said, “With an iron fist. They know. About the killing god. At least, some of them do. One of them showed me.”
Well, that was bloody horrifying. Dagan couldn’t even think of a cultural equivalent, really. Maybe if Jessica, Alonza’s master and the Head Verder, was secretly smashing children’s skulls to try and heal the river? He kept the thought to himself, saying only, “They still sacrifice, then.” It made the most sense, considering. The Stone City might’ve been far from Heart Wood culture now, but they shared an origin, and both knew it.
Hendrik nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess so.”
“I’m sorry he never got to be anyone but who they wanted,” Dagan said, putting a hand over his heart reflexively. “I’m glad he had you, though.”
After another thoughtful pause, Hendrik said, “Thanks. I—it’s weird, but it almost didn’t feel real until I just said it out loud. I mean, I knew it was real, I knew he was gone. I accepted that a while back. But…”
“But your scars are real, Hendrik.”
Hendrik touched his left sleeve, glancing down at it. The burn scar was just beneath. “From when I killed the second priest. She lit the boxes and bodies on fire with some strange oil. We rolled into it.”
Oof. Also, bodies, as in plural. Kass hadn’t been their only victim? Dagan shook his head and made sure his face was as sympathetic as it could be, despite the terrifying confession. He didn’t blame Hendrik for a moment; the man had clearly been in a fugue state in the woods ever since. Such violence explained almost everything.
“There are some on my face, too, aren’t there?” Hendrik asked quietly.
“And your hands.” Dagan leaned forward once more to touch one of them, a long, pink line across his knuckles. “But they’ll fade in another moon or two.”
Hendrik, as he sometimes but not always did at a touch, froze briefly. It wasn’t a recoil, just a kind of surprise that melted away quickly. All at once, he smiled. “See?”
Dagan sat up again. “What?”
“I knew you could turn it off.”
Dagan smiled. “Well, you got all serious. I wasn’t going to flirt over that.”
Hendrik shook his head, grinning. “Right, but you flirt to lighten the mood. Would’ve been a perfect opportunity.”
“The mood didn’t want lightening! We were having a real conversation.”
“We were.” Hendrik chuckled more quietly now, looking rather proud of himself. “Thanks. Again.”
Dagan nodded. “Thank you. For telling me about him. I can tell you loved him intensely.”
Hendrik laughed again, but this one sounded singularly helpless. “Apparently, I did.”
Quietly, but feeling it was right, Dagan ventured, “It’s alright if you still do, you know.”
“How?” Hendrik asked with a shake of his shaggy head and a heart-rending sigh. “How can anyone live like that?”
“I’ve never had to do it. But when my sister Helen lost her partner young, she said she had to simply keep living. Keep him in your heart and mind, so he lives on with you.” Dagan sighed. “She said it gets easier.”
“I’m not murdering anyone or talking to myself right now, so I guess, yeah, it’s gotten a little better.” Hendrik’s smile went bleak.
“And you’re talking about it. Even finding humor in it, disturbing though it is.”
“It does feel good. Compared to not talking about it, I mean. I didn’t expect that.”
“Then why did you open up?”
“I thought you should know. That I killed those priests. It’s your job to make sure the woods are safe, so you should know where I’ve been and what I’ve done.” Hendrik spread his hands wide as if in surrender.
“Thank you,” Dagan said, once again oddly touched in the most unexpected of ways.
“I wish I could do more for you.” Hendrik shook his head. “You saved my life. A few moons back I might’ve hated you for it.”
“You weren’t doing too badly,” Dagan pointed out. He believed that Hendrik had lost his interest in life at one point. Who wouldn’t, in the circumstances? But he also knew that if Hendrik had actively wanted to end it, he’d had ample opportunity before Dagan had discovered his makeshift camp.
Hendrik had lost much, but not his will to fight. Dagan saw it now, clear as the sun in summer, clear as his bright, earnest eyes.
“I was just waiting to end,” Hendrik said. “I didn’t know there was anything else in the world to live for.”
“You’ll stay with us, then?” Dagan’s heart swelled at the thought, both with affection for Hendrik and all he’d been through and a little pride in himself for helping him along. “In the Heart Wood?”
“I don’t know. But I know it’s possible now. I know a lot of things are possible that I never imagined, back in the City. Thanks to you.”
“Anyone might’ve found you.” Dagan wished he could stop thinking about it, let alone say it aloud, but there it was.
Hendrik shook his head. “Maybe. But I don’t know if anyone could’ve disarmed me like you did. And I don’t mean my paring knife.” He smiled. “Take the win. It’s yours.”
“If you insist.” Dagan reached out once more and took Hendrik’s hand. He squeezed it, and Hendrik squeezed back, giving him a nod. “Hungry?”
“Starving.”
One more squeeze, and Dagan unfolded himself and stood, stretching. “I could eat an entire deer by myself. We’ll be in the Wildcrafter Conservancy by the end of the week.”
“I almost want to keep traveling. See more of the forest.”
Oh, how his tune had changed. “You can do anything you like, after you see the Council. Explore the possibilities.”
“Yeah. I think I will.”
Part III: Hendrik
Chapter 1: Mushroom Conservancy, Heart Wood
Not-Kass hadn’t spoken to Hendrik since long before Dagan had appeared in his camp, golden-eyed and silver-tongued. At first, Hen had been sure Dagan would be an assassin sent by the See to send him after Kass into death. He’d expected to welcome the thought but hadn’t; instead, he’d found himself ready to fight, woefully under-armed as he’d been.
The more Dagan made him want to laugh, the more Hendrik let himself trust him, though, the more he wished Kass was still with him, even if it was just in his head. Kass would’ve adored Dagan, with his pretty smile and easy flirting—and all the other reasons he’d adored Jak, in truth. Now Hen knew Dagan was nothing like Jak, after all. Jak was a consummate professional, a man who read the minds and wants of others with ease and control. Jak had never tried too hard a day in his life, not for anything, Hendrik was sure.
Dagan tried too hard every time they met a stranger in a settlement. At first, it had puzzled Hen; perhaps he’d just forgotten what people were like, or maybe it was that people in the Heart Wood—that terrifying and monstrous dark forest of the night mare—were different. But the more denizens of the wood he encountered, the more he realized that no, it was just Dagan who was like that. The man was beautiful, thoughtful, devoted to his job, quick-witted, and charming. What was it about encountering strangers that made him lose his mind so quickly, every time?
This wasn’t the only mystery Dagan presented, but it was the one Hen pondered as they set up camp in the wilds of the Mushroom Conservancy. They found a spot beneath a weeping willow at the edge of a clear, as-yet-uncorrupted lake. Though they’d bathed at the brewery, it was midsummer hot and sticky that week. The water, mostly shaded by the trees, was cool and inviting, and almost before he’d set down his pack, Dagan jumped out of his clothes and ran into the lake. He swam out to the center quickly, feet creating a flurry in the water behind him.
Hendrik stripped down to his shorts and walked into the lake slowly, carefully. He wasn’t afraid of the water, not after making friends with the sea for so many moons. But he still had a healthy respect for it.
“It’s nice out here,” Dagan called. “There are tickly little water-plants everywhere.”
“I can’t swim,” Hendrik called back, flushing.
Dagan kicked closer so they didn’t have to yell. “But you went into the ocean? Bathed in it?”
“I didn’t go out past the waves. Almost got pulled out a few times, but not on purpose.” Hendrik ducked under water to cool his face, then ran his hands through his hair to stop it dripping in his eyes. Fire and stone, he needed a haircut. It had never been this long in his life.
“Do you want to learn?” Dagan asked.
Hendrik frowned. “I don’t know. I think I might just be broken. I sink.”
“Let me see.”
Hendrik considered his options. He didn’t like the idea of looking foolish in front of Dagan; the man might have some interesting foibles himself, but he was capable and quick. A knot of dismay formed in Hen’s belly at the thought of appearing less capable and quick in front of him.
“It’s really not safe.” Dagan moved nearer still, so his chest and upper ribs emerged from the water, glistening. “There’s water all over the Heart Wood. You should at least learn how not to sink.”
Well, now Hen couldn’t get out of it without looking even more foolish. He sighed and ducked his shoulders beneath the surface, then leaned back into the water. The moment he lifted his feet off the squishy bottom, he went under. He came up sputtering.
Dagan closed the gap between them as quickly as a fish. “You’re tense. You have to relax into the water if you want to float. Here, I’ll show you.” He leaned back until only his face wasn’t submerged, arms out wide, and slowly, slowly his feet rose to the surface. His shorts billowed in the water, then wrapped tight about his hips as they broke the surface. “Like this.”
Hendrik cleared his throat, grateful that Dagan wasn’t watching him just then. He’d caught himself looking at Dagan more and more, over the last few days. He’d noticed from the first that Dagan was beautiful, as anyone with half-decent eyesight would. Maybe it had been the conversations about flirting that had changed things, or the one about the consequences of romantic relationships in fraught circumstances. Or perhaps it was just that after what felt like four years but had apparently been nearly four moons, Hendrik had found himself in the presence of another human, one who happened to be very attractive, and this had reminded his body how it used to react to that.
It didn’t feel bad or wrong, exactly. It was appreciation, pure and simple, and if Dagan had noticed, he certainly would’ve approved. Nothing would come of it, after all. And it wasn’t as if he’d never looked at a boy who wasn’t Kass, before. He and Kass had tried others before Jak, and often commented on passing men in the Tavern District, or even just walking through the streets of the High City.
But Hen had never taken part in this perfectly natural pastime on his own, before. Kass had always been there, encouraging him, arguing with him, insisting this one was hotter than that one no matter what Hen said. It felt…different without him. Again, not bad, just different in a way Hen wasn’t sure how to articulate.
