Ekleipsis (Fantasy Romance - LGBT, manXman)

7.9

On Ashwastha Moon the villagers of Ujjay closed the gates and locked themselves up in their homes. The village was protected by enchantments and sacred symbols on the fence and trees around the village, but no one was willing to take any risks.

Dshetra told Ithildin a story that happened thirty years ago. A hunter got scratched while cutting out a dead ashwastha's teeth; he wanted to make himself a necklace. He was too afraid to tell anyone about the scratch. Come full moon, he changed, slaughtered all his family and died at the threshold of his house: half-human, half-beast.

Unfortunately, Dshetra's mind-talk was able to convey much more gruesome details than a normal conversation. Ithildin got a picture of how the unlucky hunter looked like after his death, and his victims too. The elf shuddered and firmly decided to make Kintaro take the antidote even before the sunset.

He went home and found only Lielle. The young Chevalier was lying on the bed, his eyes fixed on something invisible. There was a bottle of palm wine and a wooden cup which had had been keeping him company almost all the time now. During any serious emotional distress Chevalier Ahayrre was prone to drinking.

His dismal expression and vacant stare suddenly aroused something akin to anger in Ithildin. He felt an irrational desire to kick the young Chevalier heartily in the butt and yell, "Do you think all is lost because of a few scars? You used to face death with more courage!"

But Ithildin had a more pressing matter at hand. He took the small bottle of antidote and went looking for Kintaro.

The barbarian sat under a lush palm tree in the backyard, his mutilated left leg awkwardly stretched out. His crutch was resting against the tree trunk. He fixed the setting sun with his eyes, as if it was the last sunset of his life.

The elf deliberately made his step noisier than usual, but Kintaro didn't even turn his head. Ithildin came to him, sat by his side and shoved the potion into his palm.

"You, at least, stop acting like you life is over. Lielle is one too many," he said sullenly. Usually Ithildin tried to appear all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, but he had left no strength to pretend at the moment.

"He is hurting, is he?" Kintaro asked quietly.

"Oh yeah. Drinks himself to a stupor, in the firm belief that he is absolutely hideous to look upon. Although, you act the same, except drinking."

"I have other medicine beside alcohol," Kintaro muttered and shook the bottle.

"Come to the house, drink it there. I don't want to drag you to bed all the way from here."

"And I don't want to drink this shit all my life. And to lie helpless like a baby afterwards."

"Be grateful that you are still a man, not a beast," Ithildin said curtly.

Kintaro smiled a wry smile.

"Am I? A man? Or rather half a man?"

"Don't talk like that!"

"I always call a pikestaff a pikestaff, remember? The likes of me are called by only one word: a cripple. A good-for-nothing invalid." His voice trailed off. He made an effort and added almost inaudibly, "Eunuch."

"You sure love to pick at your wounds. Don't you know that mages can heal even worse injuries?"

"No mage will fix me a new hand."

Ithildin looked him up and down and said without a shade of pity, "You aren't even maimed that much. You can walk, you can hold a spoon. Even your precious erection will be back sooner or later. But who can help you if you have given up on yourself?" Ithildin raised his voice. "A wimp, that's what you are!"