Cross Blades

Cross Blades



Chapter the Seventh: Blademaster’s Game



Time Setting: Halo 3, level “The Covenant”





Usze ‘Taham stripped off his helmet, armour and his jumpsuit, piling them against the rocks. He closed his eyes against the unfamiliar sensations of wind on his face and sun in his eyes. The scent of trees and moss tickled his nostrils. Were he not so weary, he would never have guessed that this forest paradise was soon to become the scene of another brutal conflict.



It had been a long, dusty battle across the surface of the Ark. Soon the combined Human/Elite forces would go into battle to take the three towers; some of the Elites had already begun to fight. The Arbiter had given Usze two hours’ rest before he returned to battle. He’d had an hour’s nap, then eaten, and now he intended to clean himself in the clear waters of the mountain stream before re-arming himself for battle.



He stepped into the stream. The water was hip-deep, cool and crisp. There was a little pool here with submerged rocks, just perfect for him to sit on. He lowered his muzzle, drinking deeply, and then began to wash.



Down the stream, he could see the distant figures of other Sangheili doing the same. Usze had to admit that there was a comfort to be found in fighting alongside others of his kind. It wasn’t just the fact that the silhouette of a Sangheili soldier in full battle harness was instinctively familiar, whereas there were moments when he would see a troop of Helljumpers or a Scorpion tank, and his breath would catch before memory kicked in to remind him that Humans were no longer his enemies. No, it was more than that. He understood the Sangheili codes of conduct, and he knew how others of his species would react to his words and actions. Humans were enigmas, laughing at completely inappropriate moments, sometimes offended over nothing and yet other times oblivious to the most foul insults.



And yet ‘Taham was also developing a terrible suspicion that there was a certain distance between himself and others of his kind that was not common to the average Sangheili. He noticed the way the young warriors jostled one another, wrestling and laughing. He saw how in the quiet moments, one Sangheili would place his hand on the wrist of his battle brother, and no words would need to be spoken to convey comfort, understanding and support.



But no one ever touched Usze ‘Taham.



He had thought only parents and children, or lovers, touched one another. He had thought that laughter was a private thing that one ought to hide away, and he had scorned those who showed any emotion in public. He had even looked askance at other Ascetics who permitted their poise to crack.



Now, though, he realized that his haughty veneer had served only to separate him from his battle brothers. He would not be mourned, or grieved, should he fall. At one time, he would have wanted only an honourable death; now it was no longer enough. He wanted to have done more with his life than serve only as a vessel for a greater idea. He wanted to be valued for who he was.



But nobody knew who Usze ‘Taham really was.



He doubted he knew himself.



*



N’tho ‘Sraom peered through the bushes and narrowed his eyes.



He hadn’t recognized the other Sangheili at first glance. He’d paused for a better look anyway; the warrior had an attractively muscled physique, and there was never any harm in admiring the view, was there? The bather was not particularly tall, but he was very nicely proportioned and he moved with a sinuous grace that triggered something in N’tho’s memories—something that made N’tho’s imagination shift into overdrive and head for X-rated territory at lightspeed.



Then the other Sangheili had stretched his arms over his head and N’tho had seen a pair of deep, ugly slashes across his lower abdomen.



N’tho’s thoughts had immediately flashed from sexual fantasy to actual memory. Nitro’s fingers trailing their way down Usze ‘Taham’s chest in the dark of Uzi’s quarters, tracing the soft skin of the Blademaster’s belly—and suddenly rising over a pair of thick ridges. N’tho had wondered what they were. He’d leaned over to ask Usze if he wished to get rid of his jumpsuit, and at the same time Nitro’s hand had been tracing that area, discovering that the raised, tough hide formed two very long lines, exploring…



Then Usze had pushed him away.



N’tho could guess that what he had felt had been two huge scars, exactly like those on the bather before him—and in just that same location.



What had given Uzi those wounds?



Was that Uzi? Uzi without his helmet on? N’tho suddenly felt uncertain.



No way could he pass up another chance to get with Usze. Not after Shadow of Intent. But Usze never took off his helmet. What if that were someone else?



By the Rings, he was an exotic-looking specimen. His hide was an unusual blue-grey, his fingers were tipped with retractible claws, and his eyes—one eye was warm orange, the other emerald green. His features weren’t classically beautiful, but he was just so striking to look at…and the way he moved…



Well, it wasn’t as though Nitro had a bondmate, or even a regular consort. Why shouldn’t he approach this other Sangheili? What did it matter if it was, or wasn’t Uzi? He was lonely, and…



N’tho sighed. That was a lie.



If he just wanted sex, he could go find Ki ‘Chaz, or the Major Domo from the Phantom whose name he didn’t know. Sex was easy to get, especially in SpecOps.



And if that’s Uzi, you’re more likely to get told off than you are to get laid, he thought.



Going to find Ki would be the smarter choice.



N’tho circled through the bushes anyway, slipping into the water further upstream.



*



Usze found himself sinking into a morose mood, and slumped to a seat on one of the underwater rocks.

He was suddenly hauled from his brooding solitude by the sound of splashing and a voice that was too loud, too energetic, intrusive…



…and wonderful.



“Hey there. Room for two?”



N’tho ‘Sraom surfaced before him, glistening with moisture all over his hide, not wearing any of his clothing at all. Usze felt his eyes widen. The water distorted N’tho’s submerged lower body enough to hide the details of his form, and Usze was actually regretful. Why couldn’t the water come to mid-thigh instead of mid-hip?



What was he thinking?



N’tho did not wait for an invitation. He seated himself on the other side of the submerged rock, too far away to touch, but close enough for the slight scent of warrior to tease its way through the forest aromas of earth and trees. Usze remembered how it had felt to sleep pressed up to N’tho, and he found himself wishing to all the Ancestors that this rock could have been just a little smaller.



‘Sraom was looking him up and down. “Have I seen you before?” the Minor Domo asked.



By the Rings. N’tho must not recognize him. N’tho had only ever seen him in his helmet, and his telltale claret armour was not visible from here.



“I fought with the 895th,” Usze replied with a smile. It was not entirely a lie; he had been attached to that unit, right out of War College. The fact that the 895th was here fighting on the Ark was just a happy coincidence.



“Nice to meet you,” Nitro replied, studying him with an intensity both nerve-racking and flattering. “I’m N’tho ‘Sraom, SpecOps Minor Domo, but…” He grinned. “The Humans call me Nitro.”



“’Sumai,” Usze replied, giving his biological father’s surname.



The Perfect Warrior did not tell falsehoods. The Perfect Warrior did not check out subordinates, either. Uzi felt like a spectator in his own body, out of control, drawn on by impulses he did not understand.



“You’ve still got some dirt on you,” N’tho said abruptly.



Usze blinked, confused.



“Here,” Nitro murmured, shifting with a speed remarkable for his size—he really was an impressive warrior—to a position behind Usze. ‘Taham, still not quite sure what was happening, startled when he felt a splash of cold water on the back of his neck and a pair of hands rubbing him vigorously.



“My, you’re tense,” Nitro’s voice purred in his earbud. “Long battle?”



“Yes,” Usze choked out. His brain was screaming alarms at someone handling that vulnerable sweet spot on the back of his neck. Unfortunately, his body wasn’t listening to those alarms. His body was insisting that this felt great, and that the smartest thing to do was to stretch himself out and savor the sensations. N’tho was purring in his earbud while the SpecOps soldier’s nimble fingers ran the gamut from delicious scratches in those hard-to-reach places to soft, soothing strokes…

“Don’t you sound happy,” N’tho whispered in the other earbud.



Uzi realized, to his shock and horror, that the loud purring wasn’t Nitro’s. It was his own.



Nitro sat beside him again, very close now—their thighs touched under water—and his hands crept up over Usze’s shoulder, threatening to massage his chest if he didn’t say something.



Uzi closed his eyes and raised his own hands to N’tho’s shoulders. Uncertain what to do, Usze began to mirror N’tho’s actions, doing what the other Sangheili did, touching Nitro the same way Nitro touched him, grinning when he found that he could lead Nitro to certain spots by moving his own hands to that place on his partner. It was like a game. He opened his eye a crack and saw Nitro smiling.



The other Sangheili slid into his lap, and Uzi realized with a shock that he was supposed to be pretending to be a stranger. And that as far as Nitro knew, he was a stranger. Did Nitro do this to everyone?



Did it feel this good to everyone?



“Friendly, aren’t you?” Usze murmured, trying to ignore that clenching in his guts, that angry, possessive, defensive voice insisting that Nitro was for him and no one else.



Nitro looked at him with an expression of questioning concern, as if afraid that Uzi might be disgusted with him. Usze realized that he probably ought to be disgusted by the fact that Nitro was climbing into the lap of a warrior he didn’t even know, but as he breathed in that tempting scent that Nitro seemed to carry around on his skin, Usze realized any of his moral qualms were secondary to the fact that he really, really wanted Nitro in his lap. And the SpecOps commando looked so cute as he asked, “Why? Do you think this is…” N’tho rubbed against him. “Slutty?”



Usze’s mandibles clicked. Getting this intimate with someone you’d only just met was kind of slutty by Ascetic standards—on the other hand, it was common for many Sangheili warriors to offer intimate comfort to their battle brothers. There was no shame to be found in consensual give-and-take between unattached warriors. Slutty only applied to those who would degrade themselves for sex; for example, those who tried to use sex to gain the approval of superiors, or those who debased themselves in a manner unbefitting a warrior to beg for sexual attention, or those who engaged in perversions…



…like fucking three warriors at once while bent over a controle console in chains?



Usze did not want to think about that. “That depends,” Usze murmured. “Are you always this generous with strangers?”



N’tho pulled away. He did look ashamed.



Then he took Usze’s hand in his and placed it over the Mark of Punishment on his shoulder. “Do you feel that?” he murmured.



Usze let his fingers trace the outline of the brand.



N’tho bowed his head to Usze’s earbud and whispered, “I have no right to refuse you whatever you ask of me.”



‘Taham felt his guts clench and chill. “Do you mean to tell me…” He sucked in a breath, failing to keep the rage he was feeling out of his voice. “…that brand means you need to give…favors…to anyone who might ask?” Suddenly he didn’t want to play any more. He wanted to wrap his arms around N’tho and protect him. Defend him.



N’tho exhaled, looking down at the water. “Not explicitly…I mean, it isn’t law or anything. But…” His eyes closed in a long wince. “No matter what position I hold or what rank I wear, I am always a lesser being than any without the brand, and I know my place.”



“So you feel a pressure to comply.” Uzi couldn’t resist temptation any longer; he tugged the other Sangheili closer to him.



N’tho’s cheeks purpled as he said, “I will confess to liking attention…and the affections of those who are at least somewhat appreciative.”



“Not those who ruthlessly take,” Uzi summarized as he put his arms defensively around the other warrior’s waist.



N’tho winced again and let out a small noise, as if struck. It made Usze feel guilty even as he also felt relieved that N’tho did not enjoy the twisted interests of Epse ‘Gamul and his ilk. He tightened his hold in a hug. “And how about those who only wish to give?” Usze murmured in Nitro’s earbud.



N’tho shook his head. “I don’t…”



“Hush now,” Usze said quietly and begain to stroke his companion.



Usze hoped that he could adapt the kind of caresses enjoyed by a female to a fellow male. It seemed to be working as N’tho nuzzled in close to him and started to purr intermittantly.



Uzi gently guided Nitro’s head down onto his shoulder and intensified his touch, licking Nitro’s cheek as he did so. Nitro’s hesitant sounds became a full, loud, deep rumble, and Usze’s mandibles broke into a grin. He finally moved his hands up to N’tho’s head and drew it back enough to see the other Sangheili beaming with pleasure, his eyes closed. Then Nitro blinked and his blissful expression was replaced by a questioning look.



By the Rings, what was Usze to do? He couldn’t mate with another warrior, not here, not when they were on the verge of battle, when there were other Sangheili about, when there might be Brutes in the woods…when he had no idea how to mount a male…



…when Nitro doesn’t even know who you really are.



Usze froze.



And N’tho took over.



‘Sraom’s hands slid off Usze’s shoulders and began to touch again, exploring every inch of him: his chest, his ribcage, his belly…



“That’s quite the scars you’ve got there,” N’tho murmured, his hand gently tracing the two long gashes over Usze’s abdomen under the surface of the water.



Usze winced. “Don’t touch that.”



N’tho pulled his hand away immediately, but peered into Usze’s face. “Why not? Does it hurt?”



“No.” He swallowed hard. “It shames me.”



N’tho’s face took on a silly grin that made Usze’s hearts spark with anger. How dare he mock the Blademaster? How dare he…



N’tho grabbed Usze’s wrist in his left hand and slapped Usze’s hand over his right shoulder. “Mark of Punishment, remember? I’ve got you beat in the shame department.”



Usze sighed, feeling his anger flee. Nitro was right. A Mark of Punishment was definitely worse than combat scars.



“It was an attempted assassination,” he said quietly, “by someone I had considered a mentor and friend.”



Usze had barely thought about that incident in years, but now that he spoke of it, he began to wonder. His old mentor had been his closest friend beyond blood relatives. Since the betrayal and his mentor’s death, Usze had kept everyone save his family at arm’s length. Perhaps this was where he had first learned the cool demeanor that had brought him to the notice of the Aescetics.

Perhaps this was where he had begun to forget how to allow others close to him.



Now N’tho was running one hand over those scars, stroking the fine skin in between the two gashes, while his other hand gripped Usze’s and squeezed.



By the Rings, he didn’t need ‘Sraom’s pity. He was an Ascetic, an aristocrat, the son of a hero…



…damn it, the touch felt good.



“If I asked you why, would you tell me?” N’tho whispered.



Usze felt another strange impulse rising in him. “Yes.”



Nitro blinked. “Yes, what?”



Uzi couldn’t stop the grin from crossing his face. “If you ask me, I’ll tell you.”



‘Sraom laughed. “Okay, jackass. Why?”



Usze snickered too, nuzzled his companion. Then he gripped N’tho’s hand as he grew serious. “I’ve been offered, several times, a position on the Lights of Sanghelios honour guard. Every time I’ve declined.”



N’tho blinked. “Declined? Why? That’s a pretty big honour.”



“Yes, a great honour to stand around like an idiot watching the Prophets all day. How useless is that? The role of a warrior is to fight, not to hold a ceremonial spear and look decorative. I believe I belong in combat, serving my people.” He hung his head. “My mentor said that my defiance was heresy and drew blade on me.”



“Did you kill him?”



Usze nodded. “Yes, and I almost died myself.”



“But you declined again.”



“Yes. And the second time I was waiting for the assassins with a loaded carbine.”



Nitro suddenly started to giggle.



“What’s so funny?” Usze demanded, feeling surly, but also experiencing a sense of curiousity. Perhaps N’tho wasn’t trying to be obnoxious. Maybe this was another joke.



N’tho leaned over and whispered into Usze’s earbud. “I think you’re a bad influence.”



The SpecOps warrior was still laughing as Usze thought this statement through. The most intelligent response he could muster was “What?”



“My reputation may not be the best, but at least nobody’s ever tried to assassinate me. If I hang around with you , are you going to rub off on me…teach me to refuse orders, until I wind up with hired killers after me?” Nitro gave him a silly grin.



Usze found himself smiling despite himself. “I don’t know. Are you going to teach me some bad habits in return?”



“I’ll do my best,” the other warrior replied slyly, returning both his hands to Usze, stroking him under the water, moving his hands over his comrade’s outer thighs.



And since he’d already agreed to attend that SpecOps party… oh, by the Ancestors, what was wrong with him? Why did he feel like iron drawn to a magnet? Why was he, an Ascetic, all snuggled up with a shamed creature bearing a Mark of Punishment, and why could he not get enough?



Uzi stroked the other Sangheili’s lower mandibles until Nitro sighed and purred. “I’m rather surprised you don’t have anyone laying claim to you,” the Blademaster whispered as he ran a finger over those broad muscles. He couldn’t resist using both hands to knead them and guess at the power they contained.



‘Taham was shocked at his own daring. It was not like him; the Blademaster would not, in a thousand ages, risk saying these things, lest his companion jeer at him, or tell everyone that Usze ‘Taham had a weakness. But in this guise as a soldier from the house of ‘Sumai, he could speak his inner mind without fear. The role he was playing would vanish when he left this place; the warrior from ‘Sumai would disappear like dust in the wind, and take any shame with him.



Nitro drew in a long, shuddering breath. “There is someone I like,” he admitted.



“Like as in, want to play with? Like me?” Usze teased, licking Nitro’s neck.



“Like as in want to stay with.”



Usze felt his insides grow cold. An irrational spike of anger drew a red veil across his vision. Any consolation that Nitro’s desires could extend beyond one night stands was burned away by an all-consuming jealousy.



“Who?” he demanded, struggling to keep his voice steady.



“It’s a secret,” Nitro murmured. “Promise not to tell?”



Guilt washed away Usze’s rage. A secret… He was here, under false pretenses, coaxing Nitro into his arms. What had Nitro said on Shadow of Intent? I promise to hate you in the morning. Nitro had been in his bed only as a last resort; his overtures had been born of gratitude, not desire, and what had happened between them in the dark…surely any warm body would have coaxed that reaction from ‘Sraom.



Nitro drew away from him. “Promise?” he repeated.



Usze nodded, because if he dropped this pretense now, Nitro would storm away from him…



Nitro curled up against him and rested his cheek on Usze’s shoulder. “I like someone who doesn’t like me much. Someone I’m never going to get, not in this life or the next. Someone who can do much better than a shamed warrior…but…” He swallowed hard. “He’s good to me…”



And yet Nitro was snuggling with him. Usze didn’t like being the second-best choice. “I promise not to tell,” he said, his voice a low growl. “I want a name.”



Name, because whoever it was, Usze was going to rake him over the coals. He didn’t care if it wasn’t fair. He was in for the fight of his life not to just slice the bastard apart.



Nitro was leaning closer, his mandibles starting to form an answer when a shouted voice broke the spell between them like a thunderclap. “Hey, N’tho!”



And yet Uzi was almost certain he had heard Nitro whisper “The Blademaster.”



Usze’s head jerked around and he saw a golden-armoured Elite standing just on the edge of the trees several meters downstream, waving at Nitro. As he watched, two other Sangheili stepped out of the treeline—the duo from the Phantom.



Usze startled, stiffening, instinctively flinching away from Nitro despite the fact that he had been enjoying himself very much. He regretted it instantly and knew what would happen next: Nitro would cringe, then call him a dickweed again.



Instead, N’tho stood frozen, watching the trio lock eyes with him and then start heading his way; then Nitro’s hand tightened around ‘Taham’s wrist, so hard it hurt. Usze couldn’t help turning his attention from the three warriors to Nitro.

N’tho was staring at him, eyes wide and pleading. When he spoke, his voice was a whisper.





“Uzi. Help me.”



Uzi.



By the Rings. N’tho had figured out who he was.



By the Ancestors! N’tho had known who he was and they had been doing those things anyway…the touching…the stroking…



The three Elites came trotting up the bank of the river.



“Hey, is there room for a few more?” the red-armoured Major Domo asked.



Usze growled, leaning forward. “Get your own pool. We’re busy.”



“Hey now,” Ki ‘Chaz protested. “’Sraom is Spec Ops property. If you want one of our soldiers, you have to share him.”



“Wait your turn,” the golden Zealot—Aj ‘Qorop—growled. “Me first.”



Usze pressed his mandibles together as a sudden red haze fell across his vision. His hearts pumped out a fatal tempo as his vision tunnelled and the trio sprang into sharp relief. Blademaster ‘Taham rose up out of the pool and drew himself up to his full height. By the Ancestors, he wished he were taller—but he was tall enough to cut these three arrogant fools down to size.



“If N’tho ‘Sraom belongs to anyone, then he is Sangheili Military property. And by the mandate of the Sangheili Military, it is my duty to evaluate him on his fitness to serve.” He cast his eye over the group. “Since you are all so eager to join us… Once these missions are finished, you three are all next in line for your Swordsman evaluations, right after ‘Sraom.”



“Blademaster ‘Taham?” Ki ‘Chaz squeaked.



“Indeed.”



The trio exchanged nervous glances.



“We’re sorry, Blademaster,” ‘Qorop said. “We…must have misunderstood… what you were doing here…”



“Evidently,” ‘Taham said dryly. Part of him was amazed that he had been caught publically nuzzling with N’tho and was about to get away with it…



…the other part of him could think of nothing more than how annoyed and frustrated he was for the interruption. The tiny part of him that was relieved to not have to find out just how far he would have been willing to let N’tho go was drowned out by his body’s displeasure at the sudden denial of N’tho’s touch.



“I suggest you three begin your practice now. As for you, ‘Sraom, if you follow that advice I gave you, you will become a true master of the blade. Congratulations.” He clasped Nitro’s upper shoulder with his hand; Nitro, playing along, returned the gesture in the traditional Sangheili battle-brother salute.



As the trio walked away, heads hanging, Usze suddenly felt a brushing against his submerged left hip. N’tho’s hand. ‘Sraom was looking at him questioningly.



“You knew it was me all along, didn’t you?” Usze hissed.



N’tho’s voice was thick. “I guessed…I hoped….”



Usze leaned close and whispered in Nitro’s earbud, “You’ve got a lot of explaining to do, ‘Sraom…later…” He put his hand on Nitro’s thigh, closed his eyes…



“’Sraom!” Another voice came echoing through the trees. The Arbiter. “’Taham!”



Usze looked up at the sun and swore.



“What?” N’tho asked.



“Coming, sir!” Usze called. Then he turned to Nitro, “We lost track of time. The assault is going to begin any moment!”



“Shit,” N’tho whispered, his eyes shimmering. “Shit…”



And Usze, once again, did something stupid and impulsive.



“After,” he said, grasping N’tho’s hand. “Find me after. We’ll…” He couldn’t finish the sentence.



“How about I just follow you through the whole battle?”



Usze swallowed. “Yes. That would be…acceptable.”



“Acceptable?” ‘Sraom repeated nervously.



Damn it!



Uzi leaned in close. “Acceptable is Aescetic talk for 'I would like nothing more'.”



Nitro grinned.