39. Owen

Owen

Owen woke up with a gasp. He was drenched in sweat, and when he realized he was back in his tower room, he panicked. Everything had been a dream, a nightmare. It had to be the result of Mordren's blood. He remembered feeling Colt's arms around him, and his heart jolted. He sat up and swung his legs onto the wooden floor.

Wooden floor.

There had been no wood in his stone tower. Breathing hard, he looked up and saw a barless window in the candlelight. An unfamiliar dresser sat beneath it, and then he noticed the blankets smelled like Colt. His lemon and honey scent permeated the whole bed. No, Owen was no longer in his tower, and this was no dream. Relief poured through him, and a dry sob rose from his throat.

He shivered as he got to his feet and looked out the window at a dusky sky. Now, he was more alert. His mouth was parched, his head hurt, and his hip was tender.

Owen looked down from the window and was surprised to see he was on the second level of a large house. In the street, Legion soldiers patrolled the area, cleaning away debris. Beyond the homes around him, far in the distance, the partially crumbling citadel rose into the deep blue of the sky just after sunset .

When the door of the room opened, Owen jumped and turned around. For a moment, he was afraid it would be Rem, but when he saw Colt step inside and close the door behind him, he let out a breath. When their eyes met. Owen's heart surged with love and ached with relief.

Colt was here, alive.

Owen let out a heavy breath of relief.

They flew to each other, and Colt pulled him into his strong, safe arms. Owen's fingers clasped his shirt, taking deep breaths of the lemon and honey of his energy as it surrounded him, wrapping him up like a warm blanket. Owen felt so weak, he felt his knees buckle, but he couldn't let Colt go.

Instead, he sank to the floor, and Colt bent down with him, both of them clasping each other, unable to pull apart.

"H-he told me you were dead," Owen said.

"I told you I'd never leave you," came Colt's gruff voice.

Owen winced. "Are you really here?"

Colt pulled away and placed Owen's hand against his chest. "Do you feel my heart going a thousand miles a minute? That's what it does when I see your face."

Owen's battered heart overflowed with a glowing bliss, and when he embraced Colt again, knowing now that he was real, he sighed softly.

The memories came rushing back to him. He had killed Rem in the labyrinth, and then he'd faced Mordren. Colt had shown up, which had shocked him, and then to save him, Owen had drunk the rest of the vial of blood he'd taken from Rem. He'd been able to use his Essence on Mordren, but then the god commanded him to kill Colt, and he'd been unable to deny him. The blood had made him powerful enough to fight Mordren, but had also placed him within the threshold of his control. Somehow, Owen had broken through it, just as he had with the Cores, with the emberstone…

He touched Colt's face, trailing his fingers through his scruffy beard, and Colt turned to kiss his palm. "I attacked you…"

"It wasn't you. It was Mordren. He commanded you to do it."

"It was his blood. He used it to control others. He made me drink it several times while I was in the tower, but I was never able to use that power fully because of the emberstone collar."

"The what?" Colt's brow furrowed in concern.

"Mordren used an emberstone collar fixed around my neck to prevent me from using my Essence." Owen's fingers felt at his neck, renewed relief flowing through him that it was gone.

"That's what this awful bruise is?" Colt's thumb gently smoothed over a tender part of Owen's neck.

"When I fought Rem, I was able to use enough of my Essence to break it…" Owen recalled the scene and spoke with coldness in his eyes. "That's when I took the vial of Mordren's blood. I… killed Rem, and then I took the vial from his pouch. I… I had to drink it to be powerful enough to stop him, so he wouldn't kill you."

"You don't have to explain, Owen. You did what you had to, and now I have you, and I'm never letting you go again."

Colt got to his feet and took Owen's hands, lifting him from the floor. He helped him over to the bed, and they sat down together. "You've been sick, sleeping since yesterday. I haven't been more than five minutes out of the room since we got here, but Brom told me to take a break."

"Brom?" Owen moved to get up, but Colt stopped him .

"Wait a minute, you've just been through… a lot. Brom is fine. So are Elian and Rhielle. You need to get your strength back, eat something, heal before you get up."

Owen glanced at the window. "What is happening out there? The Legion, don't they want us dead? Is Mordren really gone?"

"Yes, Mordren is gone." Colt put his arm around Owen's shoulders and kissed his cheek. "The Legion attacked the city and cleaned out the Arroki. The monsters have been contained. The councilmen and everyone imprisoned are freed."

Owen let out a breath of air, relieved, but he still felt the weight of guilt eating at him. "What about the city? No one was killed?"

"There are injuries from the people rising up against the Arroki, but no one was sacrificed for Mordren's portal. We stopped it, Owen. You stopped it."

But it wasn't the truth. At least, not the whole truth. Owen cut his eyes to Colt as he recalled seeing the arrow pierced through Mordren's heart. "You killed him," he whispered. "With the arrow."

Colt tucked a strand of hair behind Owen's ear, but there wasn't much hair there. "The crystal charm you gave me." He smiled softly. "It was made to fit the bolt for a crossbow arrow. But I wouldn't have been able to take that shot had you not held him. Had you not… drank his blood."

Owen leaned his head against Colt's chest. "Where are we now?" he whispered.

"I brought you back to where I've been staying. This is… where I lived with my mother before I went to the orphanage."

Looking up, Owen glanced around the room again. His mind still felt hazy, but in the dim light, he realized how small the room was for two people. Surprisingly, it made him feel safer .

"You brought me here?" Owen whispered.

Colt smiled. "I wanted you safe, and Elian wanted you someplace you could sleep this off without the Legion butting in. Here." Colt picked up a cup of water from the end table and gave it to Owen, and Owen sipped it slowly, allowing it to replenish him. It didn't quench the craving for Mordren's blood, but it was much needed. "You're shaking," Colt whispered. He pulled Owen down onto the bed and moved the blankets over them.

"His blood," Owen muttered, feeling sleep take hold of his mind again. "It always makes me feel this way afterwards…"

Colt held him tighter, then he felt a kiss on his head. Despite sleeping for so long, Owen was still exhausted, and he fell back asleep quickly.

Sometime in the early morning, Owen woke up in a panic. It wasn't until Colt grabbed Owen's arms and held him close that Owen's breaths steadied, and he eased into Colt's arms.

"I saw Rem," Owen choked. "He was going to kill me, it was so real."

Colt held him tighter. "It was a dream, Owen."

"I don't want to sleep anymore. I don't want to see his face again."

"Look at me." Colt pulled away and took Owen's face in his hands. "I'm here with you. Rem is dead. He's never coming back."

"He lives, I know it." Tears streamed down Owen's face. "He came to me in my dreams. He said he would find a spirit to host on and leave through the Gate to find me. Colt, I'm so scared."

"Owen, Rem is nothing but a lost soul now," Colt told him. "We haven't seen any spirits possess anyone. The only things that have attacked us are monsters. Actual, physical monsters." Colt gazed at him, and when Owen quieted, he kept on, "We saw those spirits in that place. They seemed lost, confused. I'm willing to bet anyone who dies and goes into the Vale isn't quite the same person they once were." He smoothed away a tear from Owen's cheek.

Owen felt somewhat better hearing Colt's words. But he knew, even if his dream hadn't been real, that he would still need to close the Gate.

"Do you want to get up? Maybe eat something?" When Owen nodded, Colt got up from the bed. "I'll tell Brom you're ready to eat."

Colt left for less than a minute before he was back again. While they waited for breakfast, Colt wetted a cloth and sat on the bed. "Got a bit of something here." He dabbed at Owen's head, and Owen winced at the sore feeling there.

"Back at the fort," Owen said, "I didn't mean to…" He trailed off. "I thought I was protecting you."

Colt tilted his head in the morning light and regarded him softly. "You did protect me. You pushed me out of the way." He laughed, and Owen's lips tugged up slightly.

When a knock sounded on the door, Colt opened it, and Brom came inside, holding a tray of food in his hands.

"Brom!" Owen jumped to his feet, and Brom had barely set the tray on the dresser when Owen hugged him.

They embraced for a long moment, and when they pulled away, Brom looked down at him with glossy eyes and smiled. "I'm glad to see you awake and well."

"Thank you, for helping me. This whole thing… "

Brom put his hand up. "You're my brother. You, me, and Colt. We're family." He cut his eyes to Colt and nodded. "Family sticks together. So… I will continue to make you meals, and I want to see you eating them."

"Thanks, Brom." Owen smiled. "I hope you don't mind if I stay in here a while longer. I'm just… feeling a little unwell."

"Take all the time you need. There are a few people who want to meet you, but it can wait. Just… call if you need me, Owen. I'm not far." Brom smiled, then he patted Colt's arm and left.

After the door closed, they took a plate each of eggs, sausage, and fruit and sat on the bed. For once, Owen was hungry, but his stomach still couldn't hold much, and he gave the rest to Colt, who looked satisfied with how much Owen had eaten.

"If you feel up to it, there's someone else here to see you," Colt told him.

Owen looked at him funny as he set his plate on the end table. "Who?" he asked.

As if in response, a knock sounded on the door, and Colt got up from the bed and opened it. A familiar face appeared in the doorway, with a scruffy beard and black and gray hair that had grown out some. Owen's heart started as he looked upon his uncle, the same man who had been in his life since birth. Owen jumped up from the bed and fell into Amias's embrace. His uncle held him tightly, and warmth surrounded Owen. Then he pulled back and let out a breath as he looked up into Amias's honey-brown eyes.

"How…?" he got out, as tears pricked his eyes.

"It wasn't an easy journey," Amias replied. "Perhaps best told over tea."

Owen laughed through his tears, but then he hung his head and said, "I'm so sorry, Amias. For leaving you behind."

"Owen, I don't want to hear any more apologies from you, ever. Understand?" When Owen seemed taken aback, Amias explained, "What happened is something that is going to change our world completely, and for the better. With Mordren gone, we will have no need for the Legion. A new era is beginning."

Owen took a deep breath. He hadn't thought of the events that had transpired in that way. It was hard not to feel remorse, as his guilt cut deeply into his heart. No matter the outcome, he reminded himself daily of the people he'd killed along their journey. He knew those he had killed had been a threat, but it didn't take the guilt away. He had shed blood by his own hands. Hundreds, if not thousands, of people had died when Mordren besieged the city, and then again when the Legion tried to take it back.

But if I hadn't stopped Mordren, then the entire city would be gone. Everyone would be dead. That's how I have to look at this.

When he felt Colt's fingers between his, Owen looked over and saw his lover's lazy, tired smile. The man before him was the only reason he'd ever be able to go on, to keep moving despite what happened. Owen squeezed his hand as he and Colt sat on the bed, and Amias sat in the one chair next to the door.

"I'll try…" Owen said, "to move past this. It may take some time."

"I am always here if you want to talk," Amias said.

"Thank you." Owen's shoulders loosened as he felt his tension melting away.

"I suppose now we need to figure out what to do," Amias said. "The council has allowed you to stay here. They are calling you and Colt heroes. Elian is taking care of things as we speak. He's called the council to a trial."

"A trial? "

"Yes. We can talk more about it later." Amias smiled and rose to his feet. "I'll let you get more rest. I'm going to help Elian organize a few things in the morning."

Owen's brow furrowed. "You're working with Elian?"

"Don't question your uncle, Owen. I am a man of caution. I am also a man of forgiveness." Amias smiled, and then Owen got to his feet and hugged him.

They parted, and Owen watched out the window as Amias left with Elian and an entourage of guards on the street. He marveled at his uncle and Elian walking together, as if they had been friends for a lifetime despite what had transpired. Then he turned around and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Are you ready to go downstairs, or wait?" Colt asked.

"No…" Owen shook his head, then looked up at him. "Will you just… hold me for a while?"

"Yes." Colt smiled tenderly at him before he lay on the bed. He nodded Owen over, and Owen curled up next to him.

"I never thought I'd get to do this in a bed that isn't at an inn or out in a tent," Colt told him, as he ran his nails lightly along Owen's bare back.

Owen closed his eyes as he lay against Colt's chest. "I know."

"Are you alright?"

"No. I feel… so many things. I don't know where to begin. I just want to go to sleep and not wake up for a long time." His throat tightened. "I'm sorry, I know that's not what you want to hear."

"The only thing I want, Owen, is for you to be safe. I'm not asking you to talk about it right now. I just want you to know I'm here when you're ready. I'm going to take care of you."

When Owen looked up at Colt, he traced his eyes over his lover's disheveled, sandy-brown hair and hazel eyes. He had a scruffy beard now and a few cuts on his face. This man had gone through hell with him.

How was Colt so calm? How was he always able to trudge through every hurdle that barreled his way? Owen longed to be like him, to live in the moment rather than in the past and future. To see things as they were in the present, to not worry and suffer inwardly.

But then again, Colt did suffer inside. Owen knew he held the weight of guilt as well, he just didn't bring it up. He'd buried it, and if it resurfaced, he talked about it, and that was it. But with Owen, the remorse hit him anew every morning.

He wasn't the hero the story books talked about. He wasn't walking out of the battle in triumph and pride. Rather, he was screaming inside, terrified that Mordren and Rem weren't really dead. That they would somehow come back from the Vale again, their souls wandering and searching for bodies to take over and torment.

Could such a thing even happen? No, Mordren's soul was within the dagger. Owen was sure of it. But what was he supposed to do with the blade now? He thought of the Gate. It would need to be shut and locked. He could only assume the blade was now in the Legion's possession.

Then he thought of Gilda's grave. It was a fitting resting place for her, being in a graveyard, and he hoped it would serve her well. But she deserved a parting farewell from her companions.

"Colt…" Owen started. "There's something I want us to do for Gilda."