Duels of Honour: Giving the Lie

Chapter the Sixth: Desolation


Usze ‘Taham struggled to keep his temper as N’tho described his first mating experience.

It was rare for Sangheili to remain virgins after their graduation night. Usze could not fault his mate for having sex on graduation night, but the hot, choking, maddening sensation coursing through him was not a simple jealousy. Usze had not liked his first experience, but it sounded as though N’tho had.

N’tho’s body was reacting as he described how it had felt to have been mounted first on the Commandant’s desk, then again on the Commandant’s big floor rug. Usze couldn’t help but react as well to the scent of aroused Sangheili warrior. It left him in an odd state of excitement, disgust and fury all at the same time.

But when N’tho told him about that second experience on the rug – how his body, now accustomed to the sensation, had driven him mad with ecstasy and he’d screamed Thel’s name until his throat was raw – his voice cracked and a single sparkling tear fell out of his eye.

Usze’s reaction was instinctive and instantaneous. He moved without thought, rolling onto his mate, pinning him down, and gently and thoroughly licking the moisture from his face.

N’tho’s arms went around him, seizing his shoulders and holding him close. Usze gently tightened his grip around N’tho’s shoulders, pressing in with his claws just enough to tantalize, not enough to hurt.

N’tho looked at him for a moment and began to sob.

And in that moment Usze knew that his rage was not directed at N’tho. Usze bowed his neck and lapped up his mate’s tears. “Sssssh….you need not say any more…”

N’tho coughed, struggling to regain control of himself. “Yeah…yeah I do, Uzi, there’s something more you need to know…”

***

N’tho gasped as they parted, as Supreme Commander Thel ‘Vadamee withdrew from him. The vague tenderness he’d experienced during the actual mating revealed itself to be an outright ache now that pleasure was no longer fogging his brain. He moved his leg and winced at the pulling sensation.

He tried to tell himself that he’d been wounded worse than this during his training at the War College, and he had fought through the pain and won his sparring match despite his injury. He was going to be just fine…

….but unlike a claw gouge, a sword slash, or any of the other injuries he’d had before, this time it felt as though the wound was deep inside him.

N’tho’s body was sluggish and uncooperative from the bites he’d been given. The back of his neck still burned. His skin prickled from the cold breath of air touching his overheated body. He was sticky with sweat, and the frightening throb between his thighs made him quiver…

He pressed closer to the Fleetmaster for comfort. ‘Vadamee was his superior officer. He would know what to do. He would know what N’tho needed next. ‘Sraomee craned his neck and peered up at his new mate, waiting for guidance.

‘Vadamee was not looking at him. Instead, his attention was fixated on the ornamental chronometer hanging on the Commandant’s wall.

Thel let out a nasty curse. Then, in one fluid moment, the Fleetmaster rose to his feet, seizing his jumpsuit, hastily pulling it on.

N’tho fell away from ‘Vadamee, landing on his shoulder, struggling to get his limbs to support him before his face hit the carpet. He shivered as Thel’s warmth was replaced by cold air. ‘Sraomee stared at ‘Vadamee as he dressed, utterly confounded.

“I’m late,” ‘Vadamee growled, snapping his armour into position. “I should be on my way back to the Fleet already!”

N’tho lay there helplessly, stretched out on the Commandant’s rug. What was he going to do if one of the College’s officers came in? He rolled to all fours, then gasped as a sudden throbbing sensation tore through his body. N’tho lay back down until the feeling went away. The only thing he could do was look for his clothing. A low moan escaped his mandibles as he remembered kicking his stack of armour plates over; they were now scattered across the Commandant’s office. His jumpsuit was an inside-out ball on the far side of the room.

The Supreme Commander adjusted his chestplate and favoured N’tho with a smile. “You are quite the distraction, N’tho son of ‘Sraom.”

It sounded like a compliment, but the words were unexpectedly painful.

A distraction?

Was that all he was?

He bit down on his mandibles, but not in time to kill the whimper that escaped between them.

The Supreme Commander raised an eye ridge, glaring down at him imperiously, in a way that made N’tho want to cower and weep.

‘Vadamee’s mandibles set. N’tho shook, unable to hide his terror at what the expression might mean.

Then the Supreme Commander of the Fleet of Particular Justice dropped to his knees and, unclasping the cloak around his neck, wrapped it around N’tho. “Have this,” he murmured. He guided the young warrior into a half-seated position, holding him securely against his chest, and licked his cheek.

N’tho felt better to be covered in his moment of vulnerability. The Fleetmaster’s warmth seeping through the cloak drove away his chills; the Fleetmaster’s solid chest against his back was a solid foundation. He buried his muzzle in ‘Vadamee’s neck, breathing in Thel’s scent, while the comforting softness of the fur caressed his hide.

“You will be fine, my brave warrior,” the Fleetmaster said gently. “Your control will return shortly and your discomfort will pass. But I suggest you put yourself together now, and rest later, in your barracks. I suspect that soon after I leave, the Commandant will want his office back.”
As if summoned by those words, there was suddenly a loud knocking at the door.

Thel rubbed N’tho’s back through the cape. Then the Supreme Commander rose to his feet and crossed the room to answer the door, slipping on his helmet as he did so, while N’tho crept behind the Commandant’s desk to hide. ‘Vadamee did not even let the other Sangheili into the room; instead he stepped out, shutting the door behind him. Their voices faded away down the hall.

N’tho steeled himself. ‘Vadamee was right; it might not be long before someone else came along and entered the office. Before that happened, he had to be dressed and gone.

He forced himself to his feet, ignoring his aching muscles and the strange tender sensation. With shaking hands, ‘Sraomee gathered up his clothing and dressed. All the while, the purple cloak hung heavily around his shoulders.

It was only when N’tho had retrieved his helmet that he realized that Thel ‘Vadamee would not be coming back. The Supreme Commander would already be on his way to the spaceport to fly back to his fleet.

There had been no time for N’tho to say goodbye to the warrior who had become his first mate. No time for Thel to say farewell to him.

But Thel had left his cloak behind.

Have this.

N’tho considered those words carefully as he limped across the Commandant’s office.

Not take this, which could be temporary, until the object was taken back. ‘Vadamee had said have this. Have implied keeping, did it not?

N’tho opened the door and looked both ways. The hall was empty, so he slipped out with a sudden feeling of relief.

And yet, as he walked down the corridors of the War College, heading for the barracks, he found himself feeling lonely. He shuddered and wrapped the purple cape tighter around his body.

It had been Thel ‘Vadamee’s parting gift.

He wished he had said thank you. Or goodbye.

While he was wishing, he wished the Fleetmaster had not had to leave, though of course he knew why this wish was impossible.

But all of a sudden the cloak no longer seemed so warm, and N’tho felt small, and tired, and very, very alone, because Thel ‘Vadamee was gone, and N’tho ‘Sraomee had been left behind.

*

N’tho pried open the door of the barracks, listening to the murmur of voices within. The large room within was still dark, illuminated only by the bank of lights over the public area at the room’s heart. About half the bunks contained young Sangheili, sleeping off the exertions of the night before; but just as many bunks were empty, and it seemed that most of their occupants were now clustered in the middle of the room, talking excitedly.

N’tho’s bunk was on the far end of the room. To reach it, he would have to make his way past the knot of talking Sangheili. N’tho folded the doarmir-fur cloak around his shoulders and decided to pass by as quietly as possible.

But as he made his way towards the group, his hearts sank.

Lor’n ‘Malachee was up on top of one of the tables, the better to show off to the assembled young warriors as he regaled them with tales of his graduation night exploits. He spoke loudly enough that N’tho could not help but hear him as he approached. Apparently two females had tied for the top honours at the Finishing School, and both these young ladies had insisted that Lor’n breed with them as well as the initial female who’d caught his eye. According to Lor’n, all the girls were very uninhibited, and had insisted on trying all manner of things…

N’tho wondered to himself just how much of Lor’n’s story was true. It wasn’t impossible that it could have happened; as the top student of the graduating class, Lor’n would be an appealing mate. On the other hand, Lor’n certainly seemed to be enjoying the gasps of shock and envious growls of his classmates as he regaled them with his story, in which the three females seemed to alternate between happily sharing him (all at once) and competing for his attention by showing off their talents to the utmost. The fact that Lor’n had a natural skill as a warrior did not make him immune to a need to show off his superiority to the other cadets.

N’tho snorted to himself. As if Lor’n, whom N’tho had personally seen fumbling and flustered during their petting sessions, was half the lover that the Supreme Commander of the Fleet of Particular Justice had been.

‘Sraomee skirted around the edge of the group, happy to allow his ex-consort to enjoy his limelight in exchange for being left in peace. Lor’n, however, was not content to accept the fact that someone might not be enthralled by his exploits.

“Hey!” Lor’n barked, halting his narrative.

N’tho stopped, turning his head, hoping Lor’n was calling for someone else.

No such luck. Lor’n was looking right at him. N’tho could see the surprise in his eyes as Lor’n recognized him.

N’tho’s stomach sank as he noticed that all the other new graduates were now also looking at him. Their expressions didn’t seem malicious, merely curious—doubtlessly they’d all been sharing their adventures until Lor’n had stolen center stage.

“Come listen to this,” said one of the other cadets, whose name was Ta’ak.

Ta’ak’s consort, Xae, chuckled. “Maybe N’tho has a story to beat it,” Xae countered.

Ta’ak whispered something into Xae’s earbud. Xae squinted and licked his mate.

Lor’n’s features twisted with frustration as everyone’s attention turned to N’tho.

When N’tho simply stood there, awkward and embarrassed, another Sangheili stepped forward—Khorr ‘Refumee, whom N’tho had always considered a bit of a bully. “How about it?” Khorr demanded. “Do you have a story for us, N’tho?”

N’tho stepped back instinctively. How could he talk about what had happened in the Commandant’s office? To speak of the Supreme Commander that way was surely a sign of disrespect. Thel ‘Vadamee had given him a gift that should not be dirtied by dragging it out in front of everyone. N’tho was in no way ready to talk about an encounter he had not yet come to terms with himself.

But now the spotlight was on N’tho, as all the other cadets expected to hear his answer.

Lor’n was regarding him intently. “Did you have a good time last night?”

“I did,” he said, his voice dry, wishing they would turn their attention to someone else.

“That’s strange,” Lor’n said quietly, his eyes sparkling like those of a predator who’d just scented blood. He jumped off the table and stalked towards N’tho, halting only a pace away, at the edge of the light. Khorr came up beside him on the left, blocking N’tho’s path. “Because everyone here told me they didn’t see you out at the field last night. In fact, nobody remembers seeing you at all since you got summoned to the Commandant’s office. Not even the females.”

N’tho stared at Lor’n, aghast. He’d expected that sort of behaviour from Khorr; but for Lor’n to pressure him that way, after being the one to break up with him, was simply cruel.

Khorr snorted. “N’tho’s got a story all right…about how it feels to spend graduation night hiding in the sewers so nobody will find out what a loser he is.”

Lor’n laughed.

N’tho knew then, beyond any doubt, that he had never loved Lor’n. ‘Malachee’s words should have been a devastating betrayal; instead they were an irritating annoyance, spoken by a self-centered fool who wanted the spotlight at any cost.

And ‘Sraomee was in no mood to play Lor’n’s games any longer.

“I don’t have to justify myself to you,” N’tho said, his voice low, as he took one deliberate step forward into the light.

He heard the other cadets gasp, and he could imagine their mandibles gaping with shock, but all his attention was on Lor’n as he stared into his ex-consort’s eyes, daring ‘Malachee to say anything.

‘Malachee’s eyes dropped to N’tho’s cape, where the brilliant purple colour of a Fleetmaster’s cloak gave a more eloquent answer than N’tho himself ever could. Lor’n’s face paled to an ashy grey.

Now N’tho had the undivided attention of every cadet in the barracks. There had been a time when he would have done anything to have earned their goodwill. But now, their attention was like a rotten piece of meat—a tainted prize, a victory not worth having.

“By the Rings…” Khorr whispered, his voice half-choked. “How did you…”

Fleetmaster ‘Vadamee’s words rose up in N’tho’s mind; before he knew it, he was speaking them with his own mouth.

“There are times when a warrior should hold his tongue,” he said sternly, looking at Khorr. He added, “Particularly in dealings with superior officers.”

Khorr coughed and shrank back to the left. Lor’n stumbled away to the right. N’tho stalked forward between the two of them, the doarmir-fur cloak trailing behind him, as all the other Sangheili stared in amazement.

“He’s bluffing,” Lor’n said weakly. “There’s nothing to tell…”

“That cloak,” Khorr hissed. “How else…”

“Stolen?” Lor’n whispered, then yelped in pain.

N’tho did not bother to look, but Khorr’s growled response – do you want to bring the wrath of the Supreme Commander down upon us? If it was stolen, ‘Sraomee will pay in due course – if it was gifted, we could pay for the insult with our careers, or our lives – made it clear that the aggressive young warrior agreed, for purely selfish reasons, that Lor’n was pressing the issue too far.

Behind him, the murmur of voices rose up again. This time Xae was theorizing about what units they would all be assigned to on the morrow. Ta’ak was trying to get the others to agree to switch units with him if they got put in Xae’s unit and Ta’ak didn’t.

N’tho had no idea what unit he would be asked to join, but unlike the others, he was in no hurry to find out.

He had not been that particularly close to any of his relatives, save his deceased mother. He had been shuttled from uncle to uncle in a dizzying blur that made it hard to keep friends his own age. Now, he felt a huge gulf opening up between himself and the other Sangheili he had once considered his friends as well as his classmates. Their boasting and banter seemed impossibly juvenile; the envy in their eyes as they had stared at his cloak soured N’tho’s memories. He did not care if he was separated from them.

The whole time he had been Lor’n’s consort, he had craved the attention of his fellows, and basked in the reflected glow of Lor’n’s spotlight. Now he wanted nothing so much as to be left alone.

He rolled over on his side, pulling the soft doarmir-fur over him, and savouring its caress on his skin. It was warm and pleasant and it still smelled of the Fleetmaster…

…but it was not an adequate replacement for a lover.

Thel ‘Vadamee would be back on his ship now, bound for who knows where. N’tho did not fool himself into thinking that Thel might be wondering what N’tho was doing right now. What they had shared had been a tryst, not a relationship.

N’tho rolled himself into a ball, trying to ignore the strange sensations in his body and struggling to name the new ache in his soul.

The other graduates might be in awe of N’tho’s fine new cloak, but as N’tho ‘Sraomee closed his eyes and prayed for sleep, he felt himself envying Ta’ak and Xae, sitting on that bench across the room, holding one another’s hands.