It was late morning and Ara was doing his best to keep his eyes on his food and off Cajha.  He’d returned to the artillery field early and found the man in the midst of his daily routine of washing down before breakfast.  Ara walked in and saw the warrior’s nude, wet body and blushed. 

“Sorry,” the young blond sputtered automatically, causing Cajha to grin.  The man quickly finished up, rubbing himself dry.

“Sir Aranck?” came a voice from outside Ara’s tent. 

Setting aside his plate with a groan, Ara made sure Cajha had covered himself before he replied, “Come in.”

To the boy’s relief, Malakai appeared through the tent flap, but the man’s news was unwelcome. “The General wishes to speak with you.”

Ara groaned louder and rubbed his tired eyes.  Why wouldn’t his father just leave him alone?  Hadn’t they argued enough lately?

Reluctantly, Ara followed Malakai outside and soon was standing inside his father’s large, but simple tent.  The General sat before a wide table scattered with maps, letters, and sundry.  It was not even noon and the man looked cross and disgruntled.  Ara felt his chest constrict in apprehension.  Dealing with his father was hard enough even when the man was in a tolerant mood. 

“You wanted to see me, father?”

“Yes.  I’ve received some unsettling news.  It seems several tribes further north have banded together and are giving the regiment there some trouble.” 

“Oh,” was all Ara said.  He wasn’t sure what this news portended.

 “The campaign is going hard for us, boy.  I will have to lead another raid.  I’ll be leaving at dawn tomorrow and I may be gone for several weeks.  By the time I return, I want to see a change in you.  I want to see you shaking off this childish behavior and acting more like my son.” 

“Yes, father,” Ara replied without feeling.

Machakw studied the young man for a moment, his eyes narrowing as he stood and towered over the boy.

“Do you know why I push you so hard?” the man asked sternly. 

The question was unexpected.  Ara could not answer.

“I am trying to teach you how to be a man, Aranck,” Machakw explained.  “You will come of age soon.  What will you do then?  I won’t live forever.  I had hoped I would have a son to carry on my legacy.”

The slim blond boy looked up at his tall father helplessly.  Whether he came of age in one year or in ten, Ara knew he would never be able to fill his father’s footsteps. 

The General was waiting for his son’s reply and an awkward silence followed the man’s words.

“Father, I… I can only do my best,” Ara said finally.  What else could he say?

Machakw frowned.  “If I do not see a change in your ways, we will have to rethink your inheritance.”

Ara’s pale eyes went wide.  He was the man’s only legitimate son.  If Machakw revoked his birthright, it could only mean he would bestow it on one of his mistress’ sons.  Ara’s heart plummeted. He’d known this was a possibility, but for the sake of his mother’s honor, he had convinced himself he would somehow find a way to please his father.  Now that possibility looked increasingly dim. 

The General was about to dismiss the boy, when Ara unexpectedly asked, “May I ask you a question, Sir?”

Machakw looked at him and gave a sober nodded.

“Your men, you… don’t allow them to kill women or children, do you?”  The young man could hardly believe he was daring to ask the question, but he felt he had to know, and it seemed the only time to ask–his father rarely spoke to him other than to bark orders. 

The General’s eyes grew hard and cold, like bits of glass peering out from under his heavy brows.  “This is war,” he replied simply, “not a tea party.”

The indifferent tone hit Ara like a blow to the gut.  “What does that mean?” he asked, anger infusing his words.

Leaning down over his small son, Machakw held his eyes.  “It means I do what needs to be done for the greater good.”

“Whose greater good?” Ara threw back, surprising his father by being so outspoken.  Had it been a different conversation, the General would have respected the fact the boy was finally showing a backbone, but on this topic he would not be gainsaid.  His presence loomed over Ara like a storm cloud.

“Have you looked around lately, boy?  How do you think that luxurious life of yours is maintained?  Did you work for it?  Do you earn it?  Before you start spouting off that mouth of yours, I’d think about this: our empire survives and thrives on conquest.  If we didn’t, you’d be living as just another gutter-rat in some backwater sty like this one, savage and uncivilized.

“You’re just like your mother–always demanding things and never thinking about where they come from, or who’s paying for them.”

The fire in Ara’s eyes died away.  He had never thought of himself as being responsible, in any way, for the useless war around him.  Something still seemed wrong with his father’s logic, and it galled him that the man had insulted his mother, but Ara could not bring himself to speak out again.  What did the arguments of one selfish, pampered weakling like himself matter anyway?

“Life is harsh and painful and bloody, Aranck.  You’d best get used to that truth. If you can’t, then I will send you home as soon as I return–and you and your mother can find out what survival really means.  Now get going to your practice at the shooting range; I’m through talking with you.”

 

When Ara exited his father’s quarters, the young man looked troubled and crestfallen.  Malakai had been waiting for him outside and steered the boy behind one of the outermost tents.  He put an arm around Ara’s shoulders. 

“Don’t take it to heart.  Your father’s under a lot of pressure.  All his battles lately are turning into bloodbaths, despite the new weapons.  I wouldn’t be surprised if–” the man stopped, letting the sentence hang with deliberate suspense.

“What?” Ara asked, momentarily distracted from his own misery.

Malakai leaned in close and Ara instinctively wanted to back away, but he stood his ground.  “Don’t let on that I told you,” the soldier began with an air of concealed conspiracy, “but the men aren’t happy.  Your father has a brilliant record and they respected him for that, or else things might already have gotten out of hand.  As it is, they’re only just recently beginning to whisper behind his back.”

“What are you saying?” Ara asked, astounded at the fact that anyone would question his father or speak against him.  This was General Machakw after all, the man who had conquered every planet he’d set foot on.  Why would Dama Kai be any different?

“They think the General has bitten off more than he can chew with these savages.  It’s true he’s always won before, but perhaps that only means he doesn’t know when to quit.  He’s pushing too hard, and the men are growing tired of his arrogance.  If things don’t turn around soon, they might rebel.”

“What?” Ara exclaimed, his eyes wide as saucers.  “You can’t be serious.”  The idea was unthinkable. 

“I’m afraid it’s true.  And if that happens, you won’t be safe Aranck.”

The young blond took in this information with a pensive, sober expression.  One shock after another it seemed.  “What should I do?” he thought aloud.

Malakai had to suppress a grin.  The pretty young thing was right where he wanted him now. 

“If anything happens, come to my tent.  We’ll get out of camp together.”

Ara nodded absentmindedly, but he wasn’t entirely convinced.  Although he couldn’t explain why, Malakai’s protection didn’t give him comfort.  The young man might have been pampered and spoiled, but he had a keen mind and was a better judge of character than most people thought.  He wondered why the ruddy-haired man knew so much about the other men’s plotting, and why he wasn’t having this conversation in his father’s presence.  Tyrant that Machakw was, he would want his son to be protected if a rebellion occurred, and he deserved some warning himself.  So why was Malakai telling Ara all this in secret whispers?

Mistaking the boy’s thoughtfulness for compliance, Malakai pressed on. 

“If I haven’t said it before, you mean a lot to me Ara.”  As he spoke, his arms shifted from the boy’s shoulders and drifted down to his waist, pulling him close.  The movement shook Ara from his thoughts and he discovered too late that he was trapped in the man’s unpleasant embrace.

“What are you doing?” Ara demanded, panic edging his voice as he tried to break away and found that he couldn’t.

“Hush.  I’ll protect you.  Just be a good boy and nothing bad will happen to you.”

A hand slid down to grope the blond boy from behind.  Ara’s protests were muffled as Malakai smothered the boy’s mouth with his own. 

Ara’s first reaction was to notice that this kiss was nothing like Cajha’s had been.  The native’s lips had seduced him, but Malakai’s mouth was rough and careless with lust, completely oblivious to the boy’s own pleasure.  The young man struggled against the other man until the soldier finally pulled away.

Before Malakai could say a word, he felt a firm slap across the face.  He had not been expecting that and stared down at the boy with surprise.  Ara looked shaken.  Pale cheeks flushed, blue eyes wide, he looked adorable and defenseless.  In that moment, Malakai decided it might be more gratifying to take the little one against his will rather than try to seduce him. 

“I’m moving too fast I suppose,” he said with a sly grinning, stepping back.  The right time would come–sooner rather than later if everything went as he planned.  He would allow Ara to leave, this time.  “Think it over.”

With that the man left Ara standing confused and alone. 

The young man rushed back to his tent, his one refuge, and tied the entrance flap shut.  The confrontation with his father had been bad enough.  Though Ara knew the man threw around his threats quite liberally, he sensed that the General had been quite serious about revoking his inheritance.  Ara couldn’t imagine that the man would actually dispose his mother–Machakw enjoyed his dominance over her far too much to ever let her go–but that did not mean the General wouldn’t still find a way to disinherit him. 

And as if that were not enough, it looked as if Malakai was not as trustworthy as Ara had assumed.  It had been completely inappropriate for the man to approach him as he had.  As the General’s son, Ara should be shown respect, not pawed at like some penny-bride in the street.  He was amazed that Malakai would be so bold.  But Ara had to be honest with himself–if it had been someone else, he might not have minded.  However, the young man had only ever thought of Malakai as a friend (his only friend in camp), and now he doubted even that.  Had the soldier always had designs on him? He wondered.

Ara put a hand to his head and sighed heavily.  This was too much to think about. 

Cajha watched his little master as the boy rushed into the tent and then stood leaning dramatically back against the closed flaps, looking somewhat unnerved. 

“What am I going to do?” the young man asked aloud.  In a melodramatic mood of self-pity, the boy bypassed the bed and sunk down theatrically onto the straw mat he had procured days before for Cajha.

“Would Master Ara care for some afternoon tea?” the man asked, humoring the boy as he knelt down next to him and offered a cup. 

Ara’s deep blue eyes gazed up at him, troubled.  He shook his head.  “My father is leaving tomorrow.  The war’s going badly, he says.”  The young man’s eyes dropped to the floor between them.  “I don’t know if I want him to succeed in this war.  I don’t even know if I care if he comes back.  Is that wicked of me?”

Setting aside the delicate teacup, Cajha digested this information.  If what Ara said was true, it meant there was real hope that his people might actually win against the legendary General.  Moreover, the boy’s loyalty toward his father was waning just as Machakw was leaving–it could be just the opportunity he had been waiting for to get the young man to help him escape.

Looking down at Ara’s drooping head, Cajha considered him.  “I don’t think you’re wicked.”

“Really?” Ara asked, meeting the man’s eyes once more.  “You know, however this war ends, things will probably turn out badly for me.  He wants me to be a soldier.  If I can’t be, I’m no good to him.  I don’t belong here, and I’m useless at home as well.  What will become of me?  I don’t belong anywhere.  There’s no place for me.”

“Hush now,” Cajha said gently, stroking the boy’s head.  “You’re just feeling sorry for yourself.”

“If I don’t, nobody else will,” Ara replied with a pout. 

Cajha couldn’t withhold a chuckle and the boy huffed defensively. “It’s not funny,” he said.

As the dark-haired captive stared down into that innocent face, he remembered his plans of seduction for the General’s son and his laughter died away.  Raising a hand to the boy’s cheek, he tried not to smile as he said, “Of course not, I apologize.”

He watched as Ara shut his eyes and leaned into the touch.  Then, to Cajha’s surprise, Ara said softly, “Cajha, you’re the only one I can trust.”

The warrior felt his chest constrict at the young man’s words.  Ara was playing right into his hands, which should have pleased him.  However, he felt guilty for his ulterior motives in the face of Ara’s open trust.  Though Cajha knew it was unwise, he was growing fond of his little master. 

They shared a quiet moment together, with the dark-haired man stroking the boy’s cheek, a thumb brushing over Ara’s rose petal lips. 

                  “Cajha,” Ara whispered heatly.  As he spoke the name, the young blond tilted his face up towards the man, seeking his attentions.  It was the first time Ara had initiated any such contact and as Cajha lowered his mouth over those perfect lips, he knew it would not be long before he took him. 

Whatever Cajha’s original motivations, and whatever came after, one thing he knew: he wanted Ara, and he would have him.