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Hendrik’s courage was never in question. Of all the insults that could be slung, all the names called, all the snide remarks made—most of which were done by Jasper, in truth—coward was never a word used to describe Hendrik. Sir Hendrik, knight-corporal of Heliodor, savior of the Battle of the Field of Fifty Flames, swordsman and axeman and shieldsman of the highest caliber.
Sir Hendrik, currently melting inside with panic at the sight of a swarm of sentripedes.
Of all the monsters. Of all the monsters, could it not have been grublins or smogbonnets or even dragons, for heaven’s sake? Must it have been insects? Hendrik’s dislike of insects was a well-kept secret from everyone…save for Jasper, anyway. Jasper used to give him endless grief over his…strong dislike, until Hendrik finally snapped one day, not long after they were knighted, and shouted him down after Jasper slipped a dead beetle into the bathroom they shared.
“You know fear!” Hendrik had roared, having successfully crunched the beetle into nothing but small, frightening bits, his stomach roiling. “You have seen it, you have felt it! Do you not recall the battle last year along the coast, that grey gordon who transmogrified those squires into a swarm of rats? Do you remember how you shrieked, Jasper, how you nearly fled the field before we did away with the beast? And what did I do afterwards, hmm? Did I find a rat’s corpse and hide it in your pillow? No! I comforted you, I pulled you into my arms and held you through your nightmares! You are a fool, Jasper, if you think that you alone are immune to fear!” Hendrik towered over him, relishing, for once outside of the battlefield, his advantage in height. “Try this again,” he said, deadly quiet, “and I will show you how immune you really are.”
It was the first real threat he had ever made to Jasper since they were squabbling children, and Jasper, thankfully, took it to heart. Hendrik had truly never seen such fear in his eyes, not since that battle on the Emerald Coast, and it sickened him, for causing Jasper pain was the very last thing he desired. They did not speak to each other for days following that incident, and Jasper slept in his own bed on the far side of the room, instead of sharing Hendrik’s as usual. It was the heart of winter, and the bed was chilly without Jasper’s warmth, but Hendrik managed through a few sleepless nights. Until a centipede appeared in their chambers—Hendrik’s personal least favorite species of insect—and Jasper disposed of it without a word, even incinerating the remains with a small Frizz. He came back to Hendrik’s bed that night, and whispered a rare apology, and Hendrik held him as tightly as ever.
And, of course, he was back to his old self by the next day, gloating after besting Hendrik in a practice match and yelling at the current group of recruits for oversleeping before training began and poking fun at Hendrik for nearly dozing off after a tankard of ale at dinner. Proud, stubborn, prickly Jasper. Hendrik loved him so much, then and to this day even more. At the moment, in battle against the sentripedes, Jasper had been caught off-guard and Fizzled, and was trying valiantly to slice through the armored carapace of one of the beasts with one arm limp and bleeding, one sword hanging weakly from his right-hand grasp and the other flashing like lightning.
Hendrik felt very small, looking at the monsters. And distant, somehow, as though he was observing himself from far away through one of the magnifying lenses Jasper used to love examining nature through. They had so many legs, and their mandibles were snapping, slavering, and Hendrik’s arms felt weak where they were holding up his axe and greatshield.
But it was Jasper. Hendrik would gladly and easily put his life on the line for any of his comrades—and he had, many a time—but this was Jasper, and Jasper was hurt, and Hendrik could not let his own fear rule him. He would condemn himself to hell rather than let Jasper suffer for an instant more.
“Hendrik!” Jasper shouted, slashing out at the abdomen of one of the creatures, and Hendrik jolted, automatically dodging a crushing blow. “Focus!” And he was not being cruel. Jasper was not cruel to him in this way, not any more. It was life or death, simply, and Jasper wanted him to live. “We must stand our ground—these beasts will continue to ambush travelers if we do not dispose of them!”
They had not come prepared to this fight. They had not been expecting a fight at all; in fact, they had been out riding for pleasure on one of their few days off. In an open field, with the occasional hammerhood or grublin fleeing from view, Jasper had been laughing, and Hendrik had been complaining. Complaining specifically about his training—at the moment, he was perfecting a skill known as Forbearance. Perfecting being a strong term for it, in fact; Forbearance required grit and strength and conviction and little more, existing almost solely as a method of protecting one’s comrades.
“It is far from the case that I do not wish to protect my companions,” Hendrik was saying as they rode, the breeze tickling his face. “I would gladly give everything for my fellows’ sake. I would lay down my life if it meant saving another. I would throw myself upon my own sword if it resulted in the protection of Heliodor. I—”
“Yes, Hendrik, I understand,” Jasper cut him off, grinning. “You are gallant to a fault, you would take an arrow to the eye for the King, so on and so forth. If it is so easy, why not just do it? Why not just Forbear whenever the urge strikes you?”
“It is not easy,” Hendrik argued. “Jumping in front of a blow is one thing, but Forbearance requires clarity of mind as well as mere courage. You must retain full awareness of the battlefield and of yourself in order to Forbear properly; if done wrong, the consequences might well be disastrous…according to the master-at-arms, anyway.”
“Old Cessal always did promote that clear-your-mind nonsense to an astoundingly annoying degree,” Jasper mused. “Very well, I see your point. So when will you be ready to Forbear on the battlefield?”
Hendrik sighed. “Yggdrasil knows. I have yet to master it in training…or yet to become even somewhat adept, in fact. Yesterday, when I tried to use Forbearance against a group of trainees, defending a target, I ended up taking only about half of the damage I should have…and the rest would have been reflected near-fatally onto my companion, had it been a real battle. Cessal gave me quite the dressing-down, have no doubt. He was certain that either it would come together for me in an instant or I would suffer permanent failure. I do not yet know which is to be my fate.”
“Hendrik!” Jasper roared in the present, breaking him from his reverie. “I know your fear, I understand it, and I swear upon branches above that if you do not act the warrior I know you to be and leave me to die here, I will never cease haunting you from beyond the grave!” He parried a blow, grunting furiously. “Do you understand me, Hendrik!? Unfreeze yourself and move! Help me!”
“Yes,” Hendrik said, almost dreamily. His fear was a cold thing inside him, bringing sweat to his brow and ice all the way down to his toes. The legs, and the eyes, and the sinuous way the creatures moved…All of it combined was building some of the greatest weakness he had ever known deep inside.
“Hen—” Jasper broke off, gasping, and Hendrik’s eyes focused for a moment, right on the blood bubbling up at Jasper’s lips, the way his remaining sword-arm dropped, the weapon falling from his hand. The sentripede reared back over Jasper, screeching, and calmness washed over Hendrik’s mind.
“Forbearance!” he cried with as much force as he could, his body falling into the position he had been drilling over and over for months, his shield raising, his axe falling in defensively. It was easy, suddenly, to observe each enemy without really seeing the legs, the eyes, the jaws. To anticipate the way one beast darted forth, and to intercept its blow cleanly. Jasper was kneeling on the ground, doubled over, clutching his side, but Hendrik took yet another blow for him, this one jarring his teeth and setting his vision hazy. He gave a great yell and heaved his axe down, cleaving the head nearly clean off one sentripede, who died with a shrill squeal, followed by another. One last sentripede struck forth in a desperate attack, and Hendrik bore it. He bore it, and slew the beast with the last bit of strength left in his arms before the ringing in his ears took over, and all faded quickly to black.
“Hendrik.”
Hendrik licked his lips, or tried to. He tasted dirt, and blood, and a tiny bit of honey, possibly from the honeyed raspberry tea Jasper had force-fed him that morning, disgusting sickly-sweet swill that it was. His head ached horribly. Sleep sounded like an excellent idea at the moment, and would that be so awful? A tiny bit of rest? Heavens knew he could use it; Jasper had kept him up all night with his not-unwelcome advances. A little sleep, and maybe his head would stop aching…
“Hendrik.” A firm tap to the side of his neck, and Hendrik whined. “Do not sleep. Do not. Stay awake.” Jasper’s voice was ragged, his breathing uneven. Hendrik opened his eyes a sliver, his vision blurry. The sun was directly behind Jasper’s head, casting him and his golden hair in a halo. He looked like a faerie, perhaps, or some sort of divine being.
“You are beautiful,” Hendrik breathed, and Jasper choked out a laugh.
“Shut up, you fool. You just had to play the hero…You saved me, Hendrik. You saved us both. Now stay awake, and do not die, or I shall kill you.”
“I am so tired,” Hendrik murmured, his eyes falling shut once again. Distantly, he knew that this was a terrible idea, that he should be doing everything in his power to stay awake, but his need for sleep was consuming every ounce of logic in his brain. “One quick nap, Jasper, and then I shall be alright…”
“Hendrik!” A firm, painful pinch this time, on the stretch of skin between his thumb and forefinger. Hendrik’s eyes opened again, just a sliver. His gloves had been taken off. Had Jasper done that? Or had the beasts destroyed them? “Honestly, you idiot! Do you remember nothing of our medical training? I need you to get up now. Right now. We need to ride back to the castle, and the healers will help you, but I can do nothing for you on my own. I can—” Jasper inhaled sharply, and Hendrik saw the pain etched on his face. “I can help you. I can do it. But I need you to help me, too. Can you do that for me?”
It was silly of Jasper to ask. He should have known by then—Hendrik would do anything for him.
“Very well,” Hendrik mumbled, attempting to wrench his eyes open further. “Why must the sun shine so brightly?”
“Please do not tell me those foul creatures knocked even more sense out of your head. You had so very little as it was.” A pressure on his back, a warmth. Jasper had slid an arm underneath him. “You are so heavy…On three, you will sit up, and I will assist you. Yes?”
Hendrik nodded his consent, then immediately regretted the motion.
“One, two, three.” Jasper pressed up hard, supporting him, and Hendrik forced himself to sit up as smoothly as he could manage. “Good.” There was blood dripping from Jasper’s mouth and nose, Hendrik noticed. Jasper despised the taste of blood, always thought split lips were some of the worst forms of injury one could suffer. He did not seem to care at the moment, though. “Now, take a moment.”
Hendrik took a moment, attempting to adjust to his new, more painful position. His head was pounding as though a bongo drongo was using it as an instrument, and every inch of him ached. It was logical, he supposed, to feel this way. Although if this was what Forbearance was to bring him every time, he was not sure he would ever use it in anything less than an emergency. “Your moment is over,” said Jasper briskly. “On three, you will stand, and I will assist you. You may lean your weight on me.”
To the untrained eye, that would appear a ridiculous idea, with Hendrik being so large and Jasper so…not large, but Hendrik knew better. Jasper was far, far stronger than he looked, his arms hard and corded with lean muscle, his chest firm, his legs coltish. Every inch of him was desirable, was perfect, was strong. “One, two, three,” Jasper counted again, supporting him once more, and Hendrik stood on shaky legs, nearly collapsing to the ground after two steps forward. “No, do not fall,” Jasper grunted, heaving him upright. “If you fall, we shall have to do this all again, and you do not want that, I am certain. One moment, and then we must mount my horse and ride double back to the castle—no, there is no way come hell or high water I am letting you ride alone.”
“I was not arguing that bit,” Hendrik muttered. In truth, it would be nice not to have to worry about horsemanship…aside from falling off, anyway. Between the two of them, Hendrik sat the better horse and couched the better lance, but Jasper’s skill was nothing less than prodigious in and of itself. “One long moment, please.”
“No,” Jasper said crisply, walking with great deliberation over to his mare, Peach, named for her palomino coat and in honor of Jasper’s great love of the fruit. “Your Meadow can stay here, no harm will come to her. I shall send out a force later to retrieve her. This will be hard, Hendrik, I am not going to sugarcoat things here. I must needs mount first, so that you may ride behind me. On three, you will pull yourself into the saddle, and we will be off as quickly and smoothly as I can manage things. Yes?”
“All right,” Hendrik agreed, dizziness threatening to overtake him. It would be a miracle beyond miracles if he could make it up without falling, much less ride all the way back home.
“Very well.” Jasper hoisted himself up with a grunt, head drooping slightly as he settled into position, blood streaming from his face. He attempted to wipe it away with his sleeve, succeeding only in smearing it about. “Are you ready? One, two—” He broke off, panting. “Three.”
Hendrik had no choice; it was ride in agony with Jasper, or wait in agony for Jasper to ride all the way back to Heliodor and return with a healing party. Of the two options, he would prefer the quickest, and so ride it was. Steeling himself, Hendrik placed his foot in the stirrup, lifted himself into the air, and swung himself over Peach’s back, the motion familiar and practiced and awkward all at once. It made his head throb horribly to move so quickly, and the rest of his body along with it, but it was done. Hendrik looped his arms about Jasper’s waist, trying very hard not to crush Jasper beneath his weight. This was the nicest he had felt since they had come across those awful sentripedes…He always felt better with Jasper in his arms. Always. Even like this.
One of Jasper’s hands found his, squeezing gently. “It is all right,” Jasper said quietly, in that low, soft tone Hendrik only ever heard when they were alone together. “You may rest your weight upon me. I am strong, Hendrik, I can bear you.”
“I know you can,” Hendrik mumbled, closing his eyes and letting Jasper take just a little more of his weight. “You are…so very strong. I love you so dearly, Jasper.”
Jasper sighed. “I love you, too, you great stupid oaf. Now, we shall be off, and along the way, you are to tell me the plot of the latest horrid, soppy book that has taken your interest.”
“I thought you despised my storied romances.”
“I do, do not think otherwise for even a moment. But I also need to keep you awake, and according to our training, the best way to do that is to keep you talking.” Jasper flicked the reins and dug his heels into Peach’s side, and she set off with a trot. “So, Hendrik. Tell me all about A Maid as Fair as Summer.”
The road back, thankfully, was clear and untroublesome, and they reached Heliodor Castle quickly. “I require assistance!” Jasper shouted as soon as he dismounted, and a crew of underlings rushed to greet them.
“Sir Jasper, you—” One of the men broke off. Marv, Hendrik thought his name might have been. “Are you and Sir Hendrik all right!?”
“Obviously not,” Jasper snapped, once more attempting to wipe the blood from his face. “Fetch as many healers as you can find, and as many large men as possible to carry Sir Hendrik to the healing wing.” The man hovered, gaping rather stupidly, and Jasper clapped his hands sharply. “Now!”
The rest was a blur. Being lifted and supported by a crew of men, being borne to the healing wing and laid down on a soft white bed, Jasper one bed over, the healers rushing in and casting spell after spell, numbing and cooling and heating various parts of him at once. It was only hours later, as the healing spells finally started their real work, that Hendrik felt well enough to speak again.
“Jasper?” he whispered, for fear that Jasper might be asleep. “Are you awake?”
“I am now.” Jasper was no longer asleep, evidently. He sounded…Tired. Drained. But not upon death’s door. The healers had magicked him into wellness, too, and when Hendrik glanced over, he could see the blood had been wiped off Jasper’s face.
“I could not have survived that without you,” Hendrik said all in a rush. “The beasts, and their—their legs…I would not have been able to do it, had you not been there. I would not have run, but I would not have been able to bear it. You saved me. Thank you.”
“Oh, Hendrik,” Jasper said quietly. “There is no need to thank me. You saved me, after all.” A hint of a smile in his voice. “You Forbore with aplomb. And…most importantly, I believe you saved yourself. You overcame your fear when it mattered most. I overhear people discussing how strong you are every day, Hendrik, but they know not the full extent of your strength. I see it everywhere, always, but I most especially saw it today. You are stronger than you know. I know you doubt me often when it comes to these things—but trust me just this once, please.”
“Thank you,” Hendrik said again, humbly, struck slightly dumb by the authenticity of Jasper’s speech. “I shall endeavor to continue earning your respect in this manner. You always have my trust in the fullest, Jasper.”
He would normally tell Jasper he loved him, then, if they were alone together, but there might have been anyone ready to burst in at any moment, here in public, so he took Jasper’s hand instead and squeezed once, briefly, trying to put into touch everything he could not say aloud.
“Now,” Jasper said, voice soft as a kiss, squeezing back. “Leave me to sleep, or I shall wound you in such a manner that makes today’s battle appear as a friendly exhibition match.”
Hendrik closed his eyes, unable to keep back a tiny smile. He would remember this day, in the future. He would remember his strength. And theirs combined.