Chapter Eight

Two months later

"Hey, Conyod. Just letting you know I'll be at your door first thing in the morning."

The Imdiko sighed. "I was about to com you. I'm at my parents' ranch, and I can't get away. Dresk is sick."

"Oh shit. Is it serious?"

Conyod eyed the kestarsh lying in his stall. The big animal was on his side, his sides heaving as his lungs worked for oxygen. "Major respiratory infection. The antibiotics are starting to have an effect, but it'll be a long night. I have to force him to his feet and walk him every hour or so to keep the mucus from settling in and drowning him. If he doesn't suffer a setback by morning, his chances of recovery will improve."

"Your parents or the ranch help couldn't handle it?"

"Well yeah, but it's Dresk."

"Right. Sorry. Sorry for being so dumb. I realize he isn't a mere pet."

"It's okay." Conyod smiled despite it being an audio-only com. "It wouldn't be the first time my mother or Vel manufactured an excuse to convince me to visit. This emergency happens to be valid."

"I could join you there tomorrow if you want the company."

"Hell, yeah!" Conyod's heart leapt despite his worry for Dresk.

He was amused at his own reaction. He and Sletran were together whenever they could manage. They commed almost daily when they were apart. If the military had recognized them as actual clanmates, Conyod could have moved in his lover's quarters on the base.

"All right. I'll try to get out of here earlier than I'd planned. Tell Dresk I said to feel better."

The kestarsh opened his eyes and rumbled weakly before closing them again.

"Message received," Conyod reported. "I think he said thanks."

"I'll see the two of you tomorrow."

* * * *

The sun was peeking over the lowest hills of the forbidding mountains when Sletran landed his shuttle next to Conyod's near the kestarsh corral. He stepped through the hatch and inhaled the crisp air.

He was aware of the animosity Conyod felt for the jagged peaks where his brother had vanished, but Sletran was able to appreciate their stark beauty. He gazed admiringly at their backdrop to the tall grassland of the plains, shifting from brown to gold as the sun's rays struck them. After a few moments, he turned toward the home of Clan Tuher.

Figures were moving in front of the hill-locked home. Sletran hadn't worried about arriving at daybreak. The residents and ranch staff began work while it was still dark. Sure enough, the first person he identified was Matara Lafec, who halted and watched his approach.

He hadn't seen her since Conyod was a teen. Sletran had visited the ranch only once, before it had become obvious he needed to put distance between himself and his young admirer. Lafec looked no friendlier than she had then.

Conyod had viewed him as his savior. Lafec, and to varying extents his fathers, viewed Sletran as part of the reason they'd lost their son to the court-appointed mental institution for a year. At one point, Lafec had gone as far as to accuse him, "You could have brought him home after you got him away from those bullies, you know. There was no reason to involve the authorities."

Sletran didn't take their sometimes-impolite dislike personally. They loved Conyod. Their love had turned poisonous for a little while, but he could understand and sympathize with the anguish they'd been through.

The years of grief hadn't been kind to Lafec, but he felt she could have come off worse. Sorrow had etched itself in her features, making her appear more careworn than her years warranted. It failed to detract from her strength, however. She appeared as formidable as an unmovable stone. She was dressed in a worn work shirt, padded riding trousers, and tall boots. Her thick waist-length braid had a single thin streak of silver. Her jaw was set as she stared at him making his way toward her.

He maintained a friendly expression despite her obvious displeasure to have him on her property. He stopped before he could be accused of encroaching on her personal space and bowed deeply in respect. "Matara Lafec, it is a pleasure to see you again after so many years."

"Not so many, Nobek Sletran. I hope those aren't your good clothes. Even when a man isn't working, a kestarsh ranch has a habit of getting him filthy."

"As Conyod warned me. These ancient things are a step removed from the trash bin." He rose and grinned, refusing to take offense though his trousers were obviously frayed at the hems and his boots badly scuffed. His "good clothes" indeed.

"My son is in the stables." She nodded at the free-standing building beyond the shimmering containment corral where numerous kestarsh trotted around or nosed in the feed troughs.

"Dresk is recovering?"

"He had us worried for a bit, but it appears he'll make it, thank the ancestors. Conyod hasn't left his side since he got here. His presence made a big difference." At last, he detected a softening in her demeanor as she gazed at the stables. "Go on in, Sletran. Maybe Conyod will let you watch his kestarsh and get some sleep, though he'll probably do so in Dresk's stall."

"Matara." The Nobek dipped another bow and hurried to the building where men wandered in and out.

Tuher and Sema were among a group of four standing near the entrance. Neither gave off the same level of disapproval Lafec had when they saw him, but they were distant all the same. After Sletran greeted them, Sema directed him to the twelfth stable on the right in the vast structure. "Conyod's in there."

Sletran was only a couple steps in when he ran into the final obstacle of the parent gauntlet. A smudged and disheveled Vel, who appeared to be working on the pipework responsible for carrying water to a basin in an empty stall, halted to stare at him. Sletran offered the customary greeting and bow.

At first, he thought Vel would simply stare rather than acknowledge him. At last, the elder Nobek accorded him a slight bow. "It's been a several years since we've spoken. You made squad leader, I believe Conyod said?"

"I did."

"Congratulations. I'm sure it was well-earned."

"Thank you."

Another few seconds of awkward silence passed, then Vel jerked his head in the direction of Dresk's stall. "My son will be happy to see you. Dresk shows signs of recovery."

"I'm glad the prognosis has improved. Dresk means a great deal to him."

Vel nodded and turned away, pleasantries apparently finished. Relieved to have gotten off so lightly, Sletran hurried on.

He would have been able to find Conyod and Dresk without help. All the stalls save the herd leader's were empty.

The convalescent stood on six widespread legs, as if he had to brace himself to keep from falling over. Straw clung to his curly black coat and snow-white mane, which brushed the ground because Dresk's head hung so low. His wheezing was audible. If this was improvement, Sletran wondered how bad it had been at his worst.

Conyod stood close, murmuring encouragement to the beast as he offered Sletran a tired smile by way of greeting. It was obvious he hadn't slept a wink, judging from the puffy circles under his eyes that were nearly as dark as Dresk's fur. He was still gorgeous as far as the Nobek was concerned.

"We have a visitor, Dresk. Maybe he'll come on our walk before you have another rest."

"I'd be happy to. I'm delighted you're on your feet, Dresk. I heard you had a tough time of it."

The kestarsh's tapered muzzle lifted, and he regarded Sletran. A soft rumble answered his greeting.

As if he understood, Sletran nodded. "Conyod's told me so much about you since we last met. I had no doubt you were resilient enough to pull through. I look forward to witnessing you at full strength soon. Maybe you'll pick a suitable mount for me to learn to ride."

He almost sensed a smile from the intelligent animal. The light snort sounded like an agreement, at any rate.

"How are you holding up?" Sletran asked his owner.

"Okay. Dresk's fever broke, and his breathing eased a bit. The vet will be by to check on him soon and give him another dose of medication." Conyod took a halter from a hook on the wooden wall.

Dresk tilted his head as he gazed at Conyod.

"The restraint is for your own good. I don't want you putting any of the mares in line if you notice them acting up. You may be king of the herd, but you're still too ill to remind them of it."

Snort.

Despite Dresk's obvious dislike of being put on a lead, he allowed Conyod to place the halter on him.

"Containment, off," Conyod ordered, and a slight shimmer came and went from the stall's opening.

Dresk's steps were slow, uncertain. Holding the rope attached to the kestarsh's halter, Conyod matched his pace on one side of his neck. Sletran accompanied them on the opposite side.

Vel paused his work as they passed to call encouragement. "You look much better, Dresk. You'll be chasing the ladies again before you know it."

Dresk rumbled deep in his chest. He paused when the response set off a series of hacking coughs that wavered his balance. Noting how Conyod braced against his shoulder, Sletran did the same on his side, steadying the beast. After a couple of seconds, he was ready to go on toward the stable entrance where Conyod's other parents and several ranch hands watched.

"How far?" Sletran asked. He couldn't help but worry what would happen if Dresk collapsed. The stallion was huge and muscled, a formidable weight should they have to carry him back to his stall, even if everyone pitched in.

"Just a few yards beyond the stable and back. He'll appreciate checking on the mares. He understands they're safe, but like a Nobek, he has to see them to be sure." Conyod chuckled and patted Dresk's long neck.

Sletran wasn't so sure Dresk could manage it on his trembling legs. However, the instant the kestarsh caught sight of the corral around the corner of the shelter, his head came up and his pace steadied. He answered the cheers of the ranch staff and calls of his herd in strong voice and even put a sign of a prance in his step.

"Showoff," Conyod snickered in a low voice.

Dresk discarded the performance once he was in the shelter of the stable again. Relief washed over Sletran the instant the big animal entered his stall and lowered himself to the floor, lying on his folded legs. Dresk stretched his neck across the ground and closed his eyes.

Conyod remained outside the stall next to Sletran. Noting the Nobek's drawn-together brows, he said, "He's no longer lying on his side, which is a tremendous improvement. A lot of the time if they end up in such a position, they never rise again."

"I guess if he can put on a display for his sweethearts, he's on his way to recovery."

"No kidding." Conyod smiled up at him. "I'm glad you're here. Sorry our visit is under such strained circumstances."

"I'm happy to be here."

"Did my parents speak to you?"

"They greeted me quite politely."

"I bet." Conyod sighed. "Anything or anyone that takes me from them isn't exactly welcome. I apologize in advance for their behavior."

"They're fine, Conyod. Really. As is you concentrating on Dresk as much as you need to. I'll simply stand back and admire the view."

Conyod snorted and gave him a little push, but his expression was pleased. "What a line."

"Your other boyfriend says hello."

"Oh, quit. He's only a crush."

Sletran was amused at the crimson staining Conyod's cheeks. "He's infatuated too. Commander Erybet asks about you when he can work it into a conversation. He tries to be subtle, but he can't quite pull it off."

Sletran's superior had gotten in the habit of appearing when Conyod visited the base. They made what sounded like idle chitchat, but Sletran was aware of the bits of information they teased from each other as they toyed with mutual fascination.

Lately, Erybet had started asking Sletran questions about himself as well. The group commander was making more visits to the training and drill fields when Sletran's squad or trainees were scheduled for exercises. Despite the fact they were superior and underling…and they certainly observed the proper verbal protocols…Erybet's demeanor had assumed a casualness missing before. He didn't always steer the conversation to Conyod either.

Sletran wondered at the rapport he felt building between him and the Dramok, but he had yet to mention it to Conyod. He had too much fun kidding his lover when it came to the mutual interest that had sprung up between him and Erybet.

If it so happened his commanding officer found Sletran interesting as well, he was willing to explore the possibilities. He respected the Dramok who'd earned a place in the ground troops and had come to enjoy their talks. To look forward to them.

Yes, he wouldn't mind it if their camaraderie proved to be more in the long run.

He was teasing Conyod about discovering Erybet's favorite food on his behalf so the Imdiko could cook them a romantic meal when Dramok Tuher joined them. His gaze was guarded as he glanced at Sletran, but his tone was friendly enough. "Nobek Sletran, I wonder if you can convince my son to breathe air outside this stable? A few seconds each hour when he walks Dresk is hardly enough."

"The vet is due any minute," Conyod protested.

"I'll stay and discuss Dresk's care with the vet. I'll report every syllable he says when you return. Please take an hour, Conyod. Since Dresk is obviously recovering, you need the break."

Sletran could have added his support to the suggestion, but he feared Tuher would feel he was interfering. The elder man might be offended if Sletran were the one to convince Conyod.

He was glad he'd kept his mouth shut when his lover sighed. "Fine. I suppose I should be a good host and show Sletran what's changed since his last visit." Conyod found a measure of gratitude for the break, if belatedly. "Thank you, my father."

"No need to rush back. If you were to go to the house and take a nap, all the better."

"Don't get pushy." Conyod grinned, and Tuher chuckled.

"I'm a Dramok. You should know by now, pushy is what I do." His smile followed them as they headed outdoors.

"You could use some sleep," Sletran observed when they were beyond his hearing.

"Don't you start on me." Conyod blinked in the sunlight, which beamed. The fullness of day had dawned.

Sletran was struck by the shouts of boys who hadn't been there earlier. A number of adolescent Dramoks and some Imdikos were racing from a large shuttle to the corral, their faces alight in anticipation. The kestarsh there bugled greetings. "What's all this?"

"Local kids from town and the surrounding farms. My parents started a program to teach them to ride and track. If anyone goes missing, there'll be more people to search and rescue. Extra eyes make a huge difference in such situations."

Sletran didn't miss the note of darkness in Conyod's tone. He wondered how few trackers there'd been when Hoslek disappeared. It was a question he'd never thought to ask. Judging from Conyod's expression, it was a question best not voiced.

He examined the boys, noting their youth and innocence. Younger than Conyod had been when they'd met. His lover certainly hadn't exhibited such open simplicity in Sletran's presence. It made Sletran's fierce heart ache, and he wished he could go to an earlier time and preserve Conyod's naivety.

The last boy to approach the corral, a youth of about eleven, showed none of the others' excitement. Sorrow pulsed from the young Dramok, who was perhaps eleven or twelve. Sletran nudged Conyod.

"Not everyone is happy to be here."

"Flist's Nobek father recently died fighting a wildfire threatening his family's farm. Hey! Flist! Yemasel's waiting for you." Conyod waved and trotted to the boy. Reaching him, he lifted the child to his shoulder and bounced him there as he carried him to the corral. "Yemasel! Look who's here!"

A dust-brown mare separated herself from the herd and cantered to the pair. Flist hadn't reacted to Conyod's cheerful greeting, sitting like a limp sack on the Imdiko's muscled shoulder. However, at Yemasel's approach, a slight shadow of a smile touched his lips. He reached over the containment field to let her nuzzle his palm. She stretched her graceful neck and rubbed her nose against his forehead. He closed his eyes, wrapped his arms around her head, and held on.

Sema zeroed in on them and held out his hands to take Flist from Conyod. "She's glad you're here, Flist. Let's get her ready for you to ride, okay?"

The boy let go reluctantly. He let Sema carry him to the saddling area. Yemasel dashed ahead and waited impatiently for them.

Sletran curled his arm around Conyod when the Imdiko returned. "I know the kestarsh are smart, but her understanding the boy needs comfort amazes me."

"His mother brought him yesterday for a solo visit. She told me the ranch is the only place Flist shows any sign of life. My parents were glad to accommodate his therapist's recommendation he ride daily while he adjusts to the loss."

"Good of them to do so."

"Yeah, well, we have our share of experience when it comes to such things. It does everyone involved good in some fashion."

Sletran looked from Flist being set on the kestarsh, the boy's earlier dull gaze now bright, to the mountains in the distance. He knew where Conyod's stare was aimed: the Pinnacle, the last place he'd seen Hoslek.

"You haven't gone there in years," he said quietly, wondering if he should speak of it at all.

"I tried once when a couple of hikers went missing. It was a week prior to my leaving for my training at Klapel Psychiatric School. They'd called for everyone available to join in, because there'd been a com from the hikers before contact was lost. One had fallen, resulting in a broken leg and a head injury. I rode Dresk as far as the foothills, but I couldn't force myself to go farther. I simply stopped and stared at that damned stone needle and…I couldn't move."

"Did you think you might not come back either?"

"It wasn't that. It had been years since he disappeared. There would have been nothing to find, but I kept seeing my brother's bloody body stuffed in a crevice. It made no sense, but a part of me was convinced I'd find him, his eyes open and accusing me of letting him ride to his death."

"The trauma you suffered was real."

"I talked myself blue to Dr. Hupsan about it lasting so long and being so damned intense. I lived the scene playing in my head for those minutes I sat there trying to make myself tell Dresk to go on. I felt the shock and horror and guilt of discovering Hoslek dead on the mountain. My heart was pounding, tears were running down my face, and I felt as if the bottom had dropped out of my life all over again. In the end, I had to turn Dresk and ride home."

"What did Dr. Hupsan say when you told him?"

"He said there'd probably always be an emotional reaction to a degree. I'd have to decide if it was worth challenging Mount Evar and the Pinnacle. I could continue trying, or I could decide there was no reason for me to go up there again. Incidentally, they found the hikers and brought them home alive, so my turning tail and running had no impact on the search. It was a relief because the guilt if I could have helped and didn't…" He broke off.

The pain in his eyes made Sletran want to gather him in his arms, but the Nobek thought perhaps Conyod wouldn't want him to for fear of his parents worrying.

"I've come across situations where rescuers have been traumatized too badly to continue doing the work," he noted.

"I'd forgotten you're involved in search details. You've done search and rescue close the base, haven't you?"

"Your family's loss inspired me to train for it and help where I could. I didn't want to see another devastated Clan Tuher if there was anything I could do to prevent it."

Conyod beamed at him. "Hero. Don't bother to deny it."

"Shut up. Let's walk." Sletran laughed and pulled him in the opposite direction of the mountains.

* * * *

Conyod opened his eyes and stared at the wooden rafters of the stable. A sharp ache had driven deep into his calf muscle, waking him. It was dark, the environs barely lit by a small panel set at only ten percent two stalls from Dresk's. His internal clock told him it was the wee hours of the morning, far ahead of dawn. Though he'd woken suddenly, he felt wide-eye alert. He wondered if he'd get any additional sleep before morning.

Serves me right for taking such a lengthy nap.He'd let Sletran, Lafec, and Sema talk him into grabbing a nap the prior afternoon. He'd gotten a full eight hours, sleeping through lunch and almost up to dinner.

He lay motionless despite the growing pain in his leg, his gaze moving to take in his surroundings. Dresk lay sleeping, his neck stretched, his face barely a foot from Conyod's. On the Imdiko's opposite side was the warmth of Sletran, the Nobek's arm slung around his waist. He'd been cheerful about sleeping in the stable next to Conyod, who'd wanted to keep sentry over Dresk despite the vet's promising report and the kestarsh's steady improvement throughout the day.

Naturally, the Nobek was alert. When Conyod woke up in the night, no matter how still he was or how he kept his breathing steady, Sletran woke too. "Are you all right?" he whispered to avoid disturbing Dresk.

Conyod flexed his foot, then his knee. "Yeah. Mostly. Cramp in my leg. I'll grab some air, walk it off. Don't get up, okay? It's cold tonight."

"You sure?"

"I'll probably only need a minute. Five at the most."

Conyod slipped from under the blanket covering them, soft from many washings, as was the one they slept on. Sletran rubbed his back until he was beyond reach.

It was chilly, and Conyod shivered as he left his lover's warmth. Dresk, no doubt exhausted from his illness and his broken sleep the night before…the vet had said it was fine to stop the hourly walks if the kestarsh didn't start coughing again…didn't move a muscle as Conyod limped from the stall. He'd probably sleep through the stable falling down, the Imdiko thought.

He went outdoors. It was early morning, as he'd suspected. All but the most distant of the five moons orbiting Kalquor had set, leaving the surroundings barely illuminated. He could make out the hump of the hill sheltering his parents' home. The outbuildings were dimly visible, strangely angled silhouettes darker than the surrounding landscape. And of course, the mountains. Their fang peaks appeared poised to rend the star-filled sky.

Conyod rose on his toes, then squatted in his effort to relieve the stubborn cramp in his leg. He wanted to run in the stable and crawl under the blanket to bask in Sletran's warmth, whether more sleep was to be claimed or not. When the knot in his calf began to loosen, he stepped farther from the stable, where he could view the corral.

Movement at the corner of his eye brought him up short. He whirled to spot a pale figure at the far end of the corral disappear behind the stable.

Conyod froze. The shape had been bipedal. Small. Like a boy, but so, so pale in the dim light.

He started toward the corral, then thought better of it. He turned and hurried as fast as he could safely do so around the building. What moonlight was available was on the opposite side of the structure, leaving Conyod in deep shadow. He knew equipment was stored next to the stable, tools and supplies he could break a leg on if he stumbled over them. He was forced to feel his way to the end of the building.

When he reached it, the light was better. There was no sign of anyone. Nothing moved no matter how he searched.

Was it the ghost everyone's been seeing lately? Maybe the same one they saw years ago?The ghost he'd never encountered, despite his efforts to do so? It had stopped coming before he'd come home from his stay at the mental health facility. Why had it returned after so many years?

I don't believe in ghosts. I especially don't believe Hoslek ever haunted the ranch. Still, he'd seen someone…a figure no longer there. A figure the size of his brother when he'd gone missing.

Conyod continued to search for several minutes, but there was no evidence anyone was in the area or had been. Whomever or whatever had been there was gone.