Sanguine Dawn - Elizabeth A. Freeman (top 10 novels of all time TXT) 📗

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“That's remarkable! Tell me more.” Arlen prompted the other man to continue, setting aside the remainder of his soup and turning his full attention to Gil.

“My people, the Challux, can use our magic to do almost anything we need. We can make fire or conjure water, heal wounds, summon creatures from other worlds. The problem is that level of power has made some of my people lazy. They live bourgeois lives of luxury and take pleasure in finding crude entertainment, such as death matches between their pets.” Gil growled, frowning in distaste. Arlen silently studied him, waiting for Gil to continue.

“That's part of why I left. My lover was among those spoiled imbeciles. Nothing more than a lazy glutton with too much power at his disposal. When I openly disagreed with his behavior he ordered my imprisonment and sent assassins after me to silence me. So I fled, and that's how I ended up here.” Gil murmured, his voice thick.

“I'm sorry that you had to go through that.. Are you alright Gil? You don't look well..” Arlen peered at the other man in concern. Gil's lips and cheeks had paled and the crimson haired man was hunched over slightly.

“I think... I'm going to be sick..” Gil grunted, raising a hand to his mouth in an attempt to resist the nausea.

“Let me get you a bucket!” Arlen quickly crossed the cabin and retrieved a bucket he used for mopping, returning to the bed and offering it to Gil. Gil seized the bucket, bending over it as he disgorged the contents of his stomach. Arlen had carefully reached to pull Gil's long hair back from his face as he threw up. Gil groaned, dry heaving several more times and then finally straightened.

“Maybe soup was a bit much... We'll try something milder later after your stomach has settled.” Arlen soothed, retrieving a handkerchief so that Gil could wipe his mouth.

“I'm sorry.” Gil apologized, wiping his face clean as Arlen took the bucket away.

“What are you sorry for? It's not like you threw up on purpose.” Arlen said lightly, then took the bucket outside and poured it out. When he returned indoors Gil had laid back in the bed, his eyes half lidded.

“Why don't you rest for a while. I'll wash your wounds and change your bandages a little later and then you can try eating again.” Arlen said, pacing over to the bedside and taking the used handkerchief and putting it in the basket where he kept dirty linens.

“That sounds good.” Gil intoned softly, closing his eyes. Arlen watched him for several minutes before turning to his workbench and seating himself to work one one of his many inventions.

Four

Arlen sat at his workbench, staring at an alchemic formula. Despite his best efforts his mind drifted away from his studying to the frustration of the last few days. He had tried everything he could think of to find something that Gil could eat. Even goats milk, known to be gentle enough to feed an infant, hadn't worked. He'd tried a potion to cure nausea but Gil threw that up as well. Concern etched on his face he glanced over his shoulder at the red-head who was propped up in the bed reading. The movement caught Gil's attention and he met Arlen's gaze.

“Is something wrong?” Gil asked, lowering the book to his lap.

“I'm just worried about you.” Arlen answered honestly, rising and pacing across the room to stand beside the bed.

“I'll be fine.” Gil's statement was nonchalant, as though going without food for three days was of little concern. Arlen frowned and raised a hand to absently rub at his jaw in consternation.

“Your wounds aren't healing well at all despite the ointment and you've got bags under your eyes. If I don't find something you can eat soon you're going to get even weaker.” Arlen protested, folding his arms across his chest and staring at Gil.

“Don't worry about it, I said I'll be fine.” Gil stated tersely, the words ground out between clenched teeth. A muscle twitched in Gil's jaw and he affixed his gaze firmly on the book resting on his legs.

“No, you won't be. Gil, you're going to starve if you don't eat something!” Arlen snapped, irritation lining each word. At the outburst Gil's eyes shifted to give him a sidelong stare, his irises blazing like molten gold. Arlen sucked in a breath of shock as Gil reached out with such surprising speed and strength, his world inverting as he was tossed down onto the bed. His head spun and he felt the weight of Gil straddling him, his wrists pinned at his sides by the other man's iron grip.

“G-Gil, what are you doing?” he stammered, blood rising to his cheeks at the sensation of warm breath against his throat. At the words Gil sat back, still holding Arlen's wrists as he gazed down at him.

“Listen, it's not that I don't find you attractive but don't you think you're moving a little too fast? I mean, we barely even know each other yet.” Arlen sternly stated, trying to mask his nervousness and keep from focusing on the fact that Gil wearing nothing but the bandages that covered his wounds had him pinned down beneath him. Silence stretched between them for a long moment and Gil's fingers finally released Arlen's wrists, one hand coming up to place his face against his palm. A quiet laugh escaped the Gil's lips and he lowered the hand away he shook his head.

“You really are an odd fellow, Arlen... Get up.” Gil shifted off of the other man as he spoke, allowing him to rise. Arlen hastily pulled himself to his feet, his brows knitting together in question at Gil's statement.

“Do you have an animal you were planning on slaughtering for food any time in the near future?” Gil asked evenly as he moved to sit at the edge of the bed.

“Well, yes. I was planning on using one of the goats soon. You haven't been able to keep down even the mildest foods though so I don't see how that would help.” Arlen replied, regarding the other man curiously.

“Just take me to it.” Gil commanded, rising and gathering a blanket about his waist. Arlen started to protest but thought better of it and led the other man outside onto the deck. The sun was still high and the summer insects whirred and buzzed in protest to the heat.

“Wait here on the deck, your feet are bare.” Arlen gestured to the stairs leading down from the deck and headed toward the paddocks where he kept the animals. His mind turned over what had happened minutes earlier as he walked. Reaching the pens he paced to the enclosure where he kept the goats, stepping through the narrow gate and taking one of the animals by the cloth collar that encircled its neck. He had chosen a young male, castrated so that its musk glands would not develop before it was slaughtered.

“Will this do?” Arlen asked, leading the goat over in front of Gil. Gil studied the creature for a moment before giving a nod of approval and extending a hand to take hold of its collar.

“Go back inside. This won't take long.” Gil ordered, his gaze fixed firmly on the goat.

“Why?” Arlen questioned, refusing to be so easily dismissed.

“Fine, stay if you want.” Gil shrugged, not paying a backward glance as Arlen ascended the stairs and posted himself against the railing nearby. Arlen watched as Gil sat motionless for a long moment, seemingly having a staring contest with the young buck before guiding the animal so that it's front hooves rested on the lowest step. Gil leaned to one side, opened his jaw wide and bit down into the animal's throat. Arlen quietly watched in fascination, studying the way Gil would occasionally clench his jaw and the way his eyes almost seemed to glow. Despite the assault the goat was oddly amenable, standing perfectly still as though being bitten was nothing out of the ordinary. Finally the animal seemed to sway and Gil shifted an arm to support its weight as the goat collapsed. Its eyes gradually slid closed and its ribcage stilled as no more breath was drawn. Gil's jaw relaxed and he licked the wound clean. Arlen's eyes widened as the two puncture wounds in the goat's neck closed and healed as though they had never been there in the first place.

“Mortified yet?” Gil asked, turning to peer at Arlen through half-lidded eyes.

“Mortified? Not at all! That was absolutely fascinating! I've never seen anything like it. The goat didn't even fight you at all and then the way its wounds closed was just remarkable. How did you do that?” Arlen spoke rapidly, pacing closer to get a better look at the goat which now rested unmoving in Gil's arms. He couldn't disguise the excitement of witnessing such a strange altercation.

“You really are different, aren't you.” Gil murmured, his expression softening and his lips curving into a smile. The action caused Arlen to pause. He hadn't realized what a wonderful smile Gil had.

“That's what the villagers tell me.” Arlen said lightly, giving a shrug and bending down to inspect the goat.

“You should probably go ahead and clean and butcher it before the meat goes bad. I can explain more afterward.” Gil stated and allowed the alchemist to take the goat from him before rising and pacing back toward the door of the cabin. Arlen stared after him until Gil disappeared inside. Returning his focus to the task at hand he carried the animal around to the back of the cabin where he kept a small shed for when he needed to slaughter and clean livestock.

When his task was done and the meat had been prepared to dry Arlen cleaned his arms and headed inside. Gil had seated himself in bed, the book he had been reading earlier once again in his hands. Golden eyes tracked Arlen's movements as the alchemist picked up the stool from his workbench and carried it over to the bed.

“So, you were going to tell me more about yourself.” he prompted, resting his palms on his knees.

“Indeed,” Gil paused to dog ear the page he was reading and closed the book