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1.
The whole thing reeked of money laundering, but that didn't bother anyone in the management.
The problematic donation came surprisingly without any conditions at first. The rich eastern European businessman only wanted some tickets to their games, he didn't want to get involved or promote anything. With his money, they renovated locker rooms and added a new training rink.
There was one condition, though.
He invited whole team for a preseason teambuilding in Europe, attendance mandatory. He planned to host them for a whole week at his lavish castle in the Carpathians.
Shane was determined to hate the whole thing on a principle. His mother didn't like their mysterious wealthy benefactor either. She felt that their team had become a convenient laundromat for some oligarch.
She spend some time researching him, drinking coffee late at night and cursing at screen.
At the end of the whole string of indistinctly named companies, funds, and nonprofits was a name.
“Rozanov. Who is he anyway? I can’t find him anywhere. All I can see are some mentions of his aristocratic ancestors and some religious icons. Might as well be a ghost. ”
During the flight he tried to find out what the castle where they would stay looked like, but even after signing several NDAs, no one told them anything.
But he did find the painting. An icon titled ‘Adoration.’
It was dated to the early Middle Ages and was simple, almost childlike. The artist had captured two knights in a flood of gold adoring Jesus. Both were radiant, one with curly hair and the other dark with a long black braid. It was rather schematic, more stylized than realistic, but Shane could vividly imagine the weight of the armor and the feel of the sword in his hand. It was heavy and cold and familiar.
His hand trembled as he touched the face of the knight with a curly hair on his screen.
Strange.
He spent the rest of the long flight listening to an audiobook about religious icons and later J.J. dragged him into his plans for a pub crawl.
They arrived at the airport in a small town on the slopes of the Carpathians and a luxury bus was already waiting for them.
Shane didn’t even remember the way to the castle, he fell asleep as soon as they entered the dark forest.
He woke up among the first (probably everyone got jet-lagged) to the bus winding through the dense spruce forest.
The fog slowly receded, and when they emerged into the light, he saw a cliff above him and the towers of an ancient castle on top.
He had expected many things. He had thought that a castle would be an euphemism for a tasteless, gold-decorated villa with garages for showy neon cars. He was wrong.
The fog parted and revealed a castle with several ornate towers surrounded by a beautiful garden. It was something from a fairytale. Everything looked harmonious and well taken care off.
Shane recognized many exotic plants, there were even sakura trees. Some parts of the garden resembled an English park, some a Zen garden. It was a combination of styles and movements, each from a different time.
The exterior also looked eclectic. He had expected something gray, but everything was bright with colors, bas-reliefs depicted knights in different colored armor, red wood hugged towers piercing the blue sky.
When the bus stopped, they were greeted by Mr. Rozanov's employees and his assistant Svetlana.
He waited until everyone entered.
He didn't know what he was waiting for. Or who.
Instinctively, he looked up at the highest tower, but he saw only a dark window. His disappointment surprised him.
The whole team was really enjoying themselves. They felt like kings. Rooms were spacious, linens top quality, there was sauna, pool, very well equiped gym, there was launge, bowling.
Over dinner in the wood-paneled dining room they discussed their mysterious sponsor, who excused himself and left them alone amidst the opulent splendor. Shane couldn’t take his eyes off the empty space at the head of the table.
“He’s definitely some old pervert, and has cameras everywhere,” J.J. said as he munched on his steak.
“Maybe he just doesn’t know what to do with money. We’ll just be a hobby for a few years, and then he’ll find something else.” Hayden tried.
Gil raised an eyebrow. “I’m thinking pervert.”
“That’s what you would do, you pervert,” teased Hayden.
“Maybe, but it would be the women’s volleyball team here and not you ugly idiots.”
They spent the whole evening speculating about sex dungeons, drinking and joking, but Shane couldn’t shake the strange feeling of deja vu. He saw them as other people in rich clothes at the same table, eating roast pig and drinking mead. He saw men, his men, talking, shouting, throwing glasses on the floor, slapping him on the shoulder to praise his hunting skills.
One was missing. Who? There was someone familiar, at the edge of memory, that belong just by his side.
Shane sipped and shook his head.
“That hot chick Svetlana wants to show us some sights, if You know what I mean.”
“Gross, Gil.”
“What?! Who am I to refuse hospitality?”
“Captain, aren’t you coming?”
Shane shook his head. “I’m jet-lagged. I think I’ll take a nap.”
He thought Hayden would stay with him, but he too suprisinlgy left. Maybe he didn't want to sleep alone in an lonely castle.
In the evening he watched the sun set behind the dense forest and the bus with the excited team getting off, heading down into the deep forest. The staff left too, one by one in their small European cars, and finally Svetlana in her Lamborghini.
She paused for a moment in the driveway, just as Shane had before. She smiled and waved to someone in the tower and left.
Night fell on the Carpathians and Shane was left alone.
2.
He couldn't fall asleep. He tried again and again, drifting off to sleep but then he always jerked and woke up. He felt a thousand hands pulling him up, somewhere away from the room.
He put on his robe and opened the door.
The castle was quiet and empty, almost all the doors were open and the corridors were dimly lit. He felt like an intruder in a place that didn't belong to him but at the same time he felt more at home than anywhere else.
As he walked past the open rooms, he had the feeling that he saw something different in each one.
He saw a medieval retinue of knights, he saw mercenaries with rifles, injured soldiers.
It must have been a dream that he couldn't stop dreaming even now that he was awake. He didn't know where it was pulling him but like a sleepwalker he walked on and on, getting lost in a labyrinth of rooms.
He walked down the stairs, into a wing of the castle where they were definitely not supposed to be.
The furniture was covered with white sheets, there was dust on the floor. At the end of the hallway he saw a glint of gold and recognized the painting he had seen on the plane.
Two knights floated on a golden background and Shane found himself right in front of them. Time stood still and he looked into the eyes of the knight with curly hair. Somewhere in his mind, somewhere on the edge of his consciousness, the feeling was so distant, so fragile and so very precious, he almost felt something...
“You shouldn’t be here,” a voice said right next to him.
Shane flinched. “Fuck,” he muttered.
A man with wet hair and a bathrobe stood next to him, looking him up in amusement.
The partialy open bathrobe showed an incredible body covered in moles. He had piercing blue eyes and Shane felt like he was pinned by his gaze like a butterfly.
Shane knew he was gay. He hoped that it was something that would be resolved in time, maybe he was bi, maybe he would find a girl, fall in love and his life wouldn’t be so complicated. As he looked at this unknown man, this desire seemed rather stupid.
How could it be anyone else?
“Don’t worry. I’m not telling,” he said with spark in his eyes.
“I’m so very sorry, I just coudn’t sleep and... I don’t know what I thought. Sorry, again.”, said Shane rather awkardly. He felt woken up now and just realized where he was. They were in a room full of paintings, ancient weapons, and hunting trophies. Probably every one of these was invaluable, but they were stored here like junk in his grandparent’s attic.
“Don’t go all Canadian on me. Really, it’s fine. If You want to look at this junk, go ahead. It’s a shame old Rozanov locks it.”
Shane stared at the man for a moment, who seemed to be enjoying the awkwardness of the situation, struggling mentally with what to do, whether to introduce himself or not. He put out his hand and then pulled it back, then put it out again and tried.
“I’m Shane, Shane Hollander.”
“I know. A golden boy,” said the man and took his hand. It was colder than he expected and he looked like he just showered. Weird.
“Are you Mr. Rozanov?”
“No, no. Not THE Rozanov. Just the son. You can call me Roz, Mr. Rozanov is my father.”
They stayed there for a while looking at the painting until Roz broke the silence. “Are You looking for wall decoration?”
“No, no. Of course I wouldn’t.”
“Don’t worry, if it were up to me, I’d sell it.”
“But it is beautiful.”
“The knight or the painting?”
“Both, I think. I saw him on the plane on the way. There’s something about him…”
Roz stared at him, his carefree expression gone.
“Do you want to know their story?” he asked, almost in a whisper.
“Oh, is he your ancestor?”
“Something like that. Almost a thousand years ago he was a mercenary, a respected warrior in the Byzantine court of Basil II. He came from the north, from Kievan Rus. He won many battles and held the favor of nobles and the clergy. The other was also the leader of a mercenary group, but because of his origins they didn’t trust him very much, he was a steppe archer. They were bitter rivals, competing for a place at court, for women, for wealth, for glory.”
“Then why are they in the same painting?” Roz shrugged.
“That is not known. History has forgotten. But the family says that Basil’s general wanted to appease their rivalry and so he had them depicted together in an icon adoring Jesus.
“Did he succeed? Did they become friends?” Roz smiled sadly but his eyes were shining.
“Yes.”
“Do you know what happened to them after that?” he asked. He needed to know. He needed to be reminded.
“I know. It doesnt’s end well.”
“Say it anyway.”
“One evening, based on filthy gossip, they were accused of heresy and sodomy. They took Sahin and his lover from his tent, naked. They were separated and interrogated. After short trial, they were sentenced. But simple punishment was not sufficient. Sahin was to be burned alive, to mock his clans death customs.” he said, his voice growing angrier and deeper.
Shane felt as if the light had dimmed and the moon outside had stopped shining.
“The priest called upon the new and old gods to curse them. May one see and see for ages, thirsty for blood, and may the other forget and burn to ashes. May they never be the same, always out of reach.”
“He knelt down and watched Sahin burn and almost went mad. He didn’t go mad just because he was planning revenge for what they had done to both of them.”
“He killed them one by one with the new power he had discovered within himself.”
“But there was nothing left for him, no grave to mourn, no place to welcome him. He was alone and could not die even if he wanted to. He had become a monster.”
Shane was lost in his dream again. He felt himself burning and even though he was dying he couldn’t stop looking at the eyes filled with anger at his own fate. He wanted to tell him that it would be okay, that his soul would be free and he would come back to him again. He would always come back to him.
How could he do anything else?
“But…” he wanted to say something but as soon as the feeling came back to him it was gone again.
“He met him again and again. But he couldn’t change him into what he was, couldn’t give him immortality. It was their wretched curse, damn them! And Sahin, Shijir, Shin and...Shane, he never remembered. He was still a stranger even though I found my way into all his lives. But I wanted him to know that I hadn’t forgotten, that I had avenged him. I wanted him to know, that I did’t betrayed him, even if I didn’t burn with him.”
Roz stared at the painting for a moment with dark eyes, as if they had been talking about something else the whole time, then laughed.
“It’s not for sale, I told you.”
Shane looked at him, confused. What was he talking about? He looked at him as if what he had just said was nothing more than a casual conversation.
“I’m sorry?”
“I don’t think even MHL pays that much money for you to be able to afford it. And father won’t sell it.”
“Okay.” Shane felt strange. He felt like he had something big within reach. He knew that if he reached out, he would have what he had wanted all his life but couldn’t remember.
He shook Roz’s hand again. “Thanks for the tour. Good night.”
“Good night, Hollander.”
Shane turned, wrapped himself in his robe, and began walking down the hall back to his room.
He walked, each step heavier and heavier. He remembered. When he reached end of the corridor, he turned.
He saw Rozanov there, Ilya standing there looking at him. This time he knew it wasn't a dream. He saw everything very vividly because he lived it. They were his lives and in each of his lives he was there.
He saw him as a bogatyr, covered in blood, laughing at him on the dark muddy battlefield.
That's all You got, Pecheneg?
He saw him drawing his sword against him and their men watching and cheering them on. It was only friendly competition of sellswords but his eyes were feral.
Today we'll find out who's the best. It'll be me, who else.
He saw him as a soldier during World War I. How he shielded him, how he held him during his injury.
Don't die. Don't do it again. Stay with me.
He didn't say his name. Shane knew it anyway.
"Ilya."
He took a few steps towards him but Ilya was faster. He was in front of him and grabbed his face in disbelief.
“Do you remember me? Do You truly remember me?”
His voice was soft and cracking with sorrow.
Instead of answering, he kissed him. Ilya lowered his hands and grabbed his waist. He grabbed him carefully, as if he was afraid he would loose him again. Shane kissed him and each kiss revealed a new memory in his mind. He knew this man. He loved him.
Shane became desperate, kissed him roughly, tugging at him. Ilya just stood there softly holding him.
He didn’t like it. He was too gentle, too hesitant, it wasn't like him. Shane felt crazy with lust and grabbed his hair.
It was like he woke up. He kissed him back but soon just fell into his arms and sobbed.
“You have to know, that I didn’t betray You, I tried so hard to...”
“It’s okay.”
They both collapsed to the floor in front of the golden painting adoring each other like desperate pilgrims finally reaching the end of their journey.
Shane hugging Ilya while he grabbed him by the waist and sobbed. “I have you,” he said stroking his wet hair.
He took his jaw into both of his hands and gently pulled him to his feet.
“I am here Ilya. What are You going to do about it?”
He just looked at him for a while, evening his breathing and calming down.
“Hm?”
Ilya smiled with his pointed teeth and buried his head against Shane’s neck.