Dear readers,

welcome back to Badal'Shari! A few words in advance: this story was the very beginning of the whole Legends of Badal'Shari-project. I wrote it back in 2006 in German and now finally came around to translating and editing it to share it with you. You'll probably notice a few themes and dynamics that I used again later in my other stories and took more time there to explore them. But this is where it all started... Please have fun reading!

For those of you who are obsessed with continuity: This story takes place ten rainy-seasons after the main plot of "Song of Souls" and seven rainy-seasons before the epilogue. I made a point in including Kavarim and Jelenar in "Song of Souls" because I knew one day I'd share their story with you. Also please note that I do not share or condone the portrayed view and treatment of disabled people.

The priests at the temple of Adan looked up in surprise as a deep, angry voice sounded from the entrance of their usually quiet halls.

"Adir's flames, I can walk! Who do you think I am? Let go, damn it!"

"It's for your best, Commander. Nobody knows as much about healing as the priests of Adan, and our field medic can't do any more for you," a much more calm and tired voice replied. "Now, please stop struggling."

One of the servants of the temple dared to come forward to greet the newcomers, as it was custom. Two old and scarred veterans of the narif'adir, the elite soldiers of Al'Menara, stood at the entrance, flanking a third man whose blood-covered clothing only hinted at the rank of Commander. He struggled against the firm grip of his subordinates and only seemed to make his injuries worse.

The servant bowed. "Welcome to the halls of Adan. Please follow me to our healers."

As the three men followed her slowly, the servant gestured one of her fellows to fetch the High Priestess.

As they reached the vast infirmary of the temple, the healers wanted to take over the commander, but he slapped their hands away. "Adan's temple is for pregnant women and old men! I'm fine!"

"You do not look fine to me," a woman in gold-embroidered clothing remarked as she entered the room. The servants and priests bowed before her. She wasn't young anymore, but her beauty had been enhanced with the dignity of age. "I am Nuriven, High Priestess of this temple. Welcome, Kavarim Di'Uzra, Commander of the brave narif'adir."

She got a dark look as a reply, but Kavarim stopped fighting against the healers.

"Commander Di'Uzra was wounded during an attack of the sessera at the Wall, noble Lady," one of the veterans reported. "Our field medic could stop the bleeding for the most part, but everything else..."

Nuriven raised her hand in a calming gesture. "Do not worry. The Commander is safe with us. Do enjoy our hospitality today and then return to your troops with new strength."

The soldiers bowed, and when a nod from their superior dismissed them as well, they left the room.

Nuriven stepped closer to Kavarim, whose upper garments had been removed by the servants in the meantime. Underneath the dried blood was a soaked bandage around the right shoulder as well as more bandages around the arm. Nuriven removed the dressings personally and frowned as she inspected the discolored wound edges.

"Poisoned sessera blades, am I right?" she asked.

Kavarim growled. "I survived worse than this. Do your work and let me go home."

Nuriven smiled slightly. "You are a stubborn man, Commander, but it is not that easy." She motioned for a healer to get her some ointments. "The wound is serious, and you must stay here under our supervision. Al'Menara cannot afford to lose her bravest soldier. And if you do not let me help you, you will be lucky if you just lose your arm."

She saw Kavarim flinch. There was nothing worse for a fighter than losing his arm, and no matter how diligent and trained he was, his time as Commander would be over. Adir, god of fighters, did not tolerate weakness among his ranks.

"Very well, I'll stay," Kavarim announced finally between clenched teeth. He had no choice.

~*~

Kavarim was sure that the next days were going to be horrible. He was used to fight since his childhood, and when he wasn't fighting, he was working on defense strategies or drilling his men. And now he had to lie around uselessly, his arm in a sling, and would probably not even be able to cut his own food. It was driving him mad.

It was a small consolation that the annoying healers had just re-dressed his wounds, given him fresh clothes and then let him in peace in a room of his own. Through his window Kavarim was able to overlook the houses and gardens of Al'Menara up to the Walls of Ghihera, behind where the sessera lurked. Time and time again they tried to invade the territory of the mehan'shari, and Al'Menara was the great bastion they had to take first to get to their goal. But they wouldn't, not as long as Kavarim was still drawing breath. He would sacrifice anything if only these demons were stopped.

Kavarim flinched at his own thought, and a wave of guilt overcame him. He was such a selfish bastard. Sacrificing his own life was easy, but that of a beloved person... that of an innocent...
The image of a smiling boy with tousled red hair appeared in front of Kavarim's inner eye. The golden eyes, so similar to Kavarim's own, were shining with confidence and joy.

Zayn.

Why had Kavarim allowed him to come with him? Was this his punishment now? No father should outlive his own son.

Suddenly, Kavarim was pulled out of his dark thoughts when he heard a knock on the door. When he didn't answer, the knock was repeated, then the door was opened. A young man clad in the simple yellow garments of a temple healer stepped in hesitatingly, a tray with food in his hands.

"Excuse me, Commander, I didn't want to disturb you," the young man began shyly. "I have food and medicine for you."

Kavarim regarded him with disdain. Far too thin for a soldier - no wonder that the young man was doing this work fit for a little girl.

"Yes, yes," he replied. "Give me the food and then get out."

The healer stepped closer, eyes downcast. Kavarim was used to look people straight into the eye, and although it was custom in Al'Menara for lesser citizens to show their respect to the nobles, nobody was groveling.

"Look at me!" Kavarim ordered the young man harshly.

He obediently raised his head, and between strands of long, light blonde hair a pair of horrible pale eyes became visible. Dead eyes. As if it wasn't enough for today.

"Excuse me," the young man murmured and lowered his head again. "Where shall I put your food?"

Kavarim just grabbed the tray from his hands. "And now leave me in peace."

"Is there anything else you need, Commander?" the young ma asked. "The honorable Lady Nuriven assigned me to you."

"No," Kavarim scoffed. "What was she thinking, sending you to me? As if I need help from the likes of you!"

The young man flinched at this. "Well, your arm is injured..."

"So what? This is just a scratch!" Angrily, Kavarim wanted to take the knife and the spoon only to realize that he could couldn't do it with just one hand - or cutting the meat with his left, for that matter. He cursed.

Although he had ordered the young man to go twice already, he remained where he was. Kavarim looked at him and then held out the knife to him. Nothing happened.

"Damn it, hold out your hand, I can't do this alone!" Kavarim snarled, and when the young man obeyed, he put the knife in his hand. The young man felt for the edge of the table, found the plate with the meat on it and began to cut it with astounding quickness and precision.

Kavarim watched him in amazement. He had rarely encountered blind people in his life, only beggars or war veterans, and he had never wasted a thought in how they got by. Adir protected only the strong, and helpless people didn't have good chances.

"What is your name, by the way?" Kavarim finally asked when his food was cut into neat little pieces and he was able to start eating.

"Jelenar Ane... just Jelenar, Commander."

Whatever family name the young man had wanted to say, he had swallowed it down. Either he wasn't allowed to name it or he was ashamed of it. No wonder since no noble family of Al'Menara would have admitted to have a disabled child.

"Well, Jelenar, just so we understand each other correctly: it seems as if I have to get along with you," Kavarim said, frowning. "I'm not here on my own free will, and as soon as this little scratch is healed..."

But Jelenar shook his head. "The honorable Lady Nuriven told me all about your injury. She said that even when the wound itself has healed, you will probably have great difficulties moving your arm and hand. I have seen such aftereffects of the sessera poison often enough and can help you improve the movement of your muscles."

Kavarim frowned. "Do you know enough of it so that I can use my sword afterward as well as before?"

Jelenar shrugged. "This is different with every case. We have to wait and trust in Adan's blessing."

"Kid, I am the Commander of the narif'dir! I can't 'wait' and pray to your silly god to use my sword again! I'm depending on it, can't you understand?" Kavarim had gotten up and positioned his tall, imposing figure right in front of Jelenar, a sight usually never failing to intimidate anyone.

Jelenar wasn't intimidated in the least.

"I'll help you the best I can, Commander," he just said softly.

Kavarim balled his good hand to a fist and then opened it again. Without another word, he turned around and went to the window. When he looked back again, Jelenar had left and taken the empty tray with him.

~*~

From now on, Kavarim saw Jelenar every day. He brought food and medicine and checked the bandages with sure, nimble fingers. Kavarim still felt uncomfortable in Jelenar's presence, but as long as Jelenar kept his gaze lowered and didn't show these horrible dead eyes, it was bearable. They didn't talk much; Kavarim asked for news from the city for the most part, and now and then, Jelenar brought him a message from the barracks.

Then, one day, a message of a completely other kind arrived.

"This letter arrived this morning," Jelenar said, holding the scroll out to Kavarim. "It's not from the barracks."

"You can tell from the feel of the parchment, I guess," Kavarim grumbled and unrolled the letter. When he saw from whom it was, his mood improved immediately. In carefully painted letters, his daughter Kaida told him how much she missed him and asked when he would come home. On the lower edge, there also was a clumsy, but cute sketch of an anushi wagging its tail; Kavarim immediately recognized the pet of his youngest son. Next to it stood in wobbly letters: "Much love to Daddy from Oadir."

"It's a letter from your family, isn't it?" Jelenar asked softly.

Kavarim had already given up wondering how the blind man could always tell how he was feeling. Or why he always needed to hit a nerve, by Adir's flames!

"My children," Kavarim murmured and rolled the letter.

Jelenar smiled slightly. "How many do you have?"

"Thr--- two. Daughter and son, nine and seven rainy-seasons old."

Yes, a few days ago, he did have three. Kaida and Oadir didn't know yet what had happened to their older brother. The sessera be damned!

"Commander? What is it?"

And damn this nosy kid!

"Adir's flames, can't you leave me in peace? I don't want your pity and your fussing, understand? I'm not as weak as you, so go and find someone else to coddle and leave me be! Someone like me doesn't want help from someone like you!"

Jelenar flinched, as if he had been hit.

"I'm sorry, Commander." He bowed quickly, turned around and went to the door. Kavarim noted that his hands where shaking as he reached for the door handle.

~*~

Two days went by, and Jelenar didn't show up again. Instead, another young temple servant brought Kavarim his food and checked his dressings, but she didn't speak to him and left immediately after she was done. Kavarim realized how terribly boring it was now his only companion had been taken from him. No, not taken. He had thrown Jelenar out himself.

Kavarim sat at the window, brooding. Now and then he tried to move his arm or only as much as his fingers, but still his muscles didn't obey him. Jelenar had promised to start with the exercises soon. Should he keep a stiff arm because of that?

Kavarim stood up and left his room. He had to speak to the High Priestess.

But he was denied. The priests told him that the honorable Nuriven didn't have time for him at the moment. And no, Jelenar was by far the most skilled when it came to training stiff limbs.
So Kavarim swallowed his pride and sent Jelenar a message asking him to come please; with the emphasis on please.

Jelenar came two hours later. He seemed neither angry, nor, even worse, smug over the fact that Kavarim was about to apologize. It would be easier this way.

"I'm sorry, Jelenar. What I said... well, I did mean it then, but it was my anger speaking, not my head. Could we, I mean..." Kavarim stumbled over the last words. He had never been a man of big words.

Jelenar nodded. "It's already forgotten; after all, I didn't hear things like that for the first time. But if something is bothering you, you should talk about it Commander. It'll become easier then."

"I don't think so," Kavarim murmured. "And what do you mean, that you hear things like that all the time? Is everyone here behaving like me toward you?" Suddenly it was bothering him greatly that other people had been rude to Jelenar.

Jelenar shrugged. "A lot of people we are treating here don't want me to help them for the same reason you didn't want to. But when I go and they feel worse, they ask for me, after all. I know that they don't accept me any more than they did before, and it's only because of the worry for their own health, but I don't care. If they died because I wasn't allowed to help them, I would never forgive myself."

Kavarim stared at Jelenar in surprise and struck by conscience. "I... yes, I admit that I need your help. But... I think I also want to know more about you. If you don't mind telling me, that is."

Jelenar shook his head, reached for a stool and sat down. "What do you want to know?"

Kavarim made a vage gesture with his good hand and then realized that Jelenar couldn't see it. "I don't know. Everything. How did you end up living here at the temple? And have you always, I mean..."

Jelenar shrugged; a now familiar gesture of resignation, Kavarim noted.

"I was born blind. My family gave me to the temple when I was three rainy-seasons old and it was clear to them I would never be able to see. I think of myself as lucky. I've been living here ever since and learned a lot about healing. This way, I can be of use."

Kavarim had to agree. Many wouldn't have hesitated to abandon an unwanted child in the desert. But Jelenar's people seemed to have to lose a lot of reputation so they had to show clemency.

"You family is influential, isn't it?" Kavarim voiced his thought.

Jelenar nodded and replied after a moment of hesitation, "Although they are not my family anymore. You surely know the Anessirs."

Of course Kaarim knew of this family. Akif Anessir, the currend head of the family, was head instructor at the military academy of the narif'adir. Kavarim had served under him for a long time and respected the man deeply. And now he felt indepted to him for another reason.
"I hope that you don't throw me out again, Commander, if I inquire about your family again?", Jelenar asked almost shyly.

Kavarim gave in. I was only fair.

"There isn't much to tell about me. I fight to protect the city. My wife, Tehida, died seven rainy-seasons ago after the birth of our youngest, and I've been raising my children alone ever since. If something was to happen to me, my younger brother will take care of them." He took a deep breath.

"And?" Jelenar asked softly.

"A few weeks ago, my oldest son, Zayn, asked me to take him to the Wall. He is... was already twelve rainy-seasons old and very good with a sword, so I agreed. He should just watch, get an impression on the life of a soldier guarding our city..." Kavarim swallowed hard, as the unbidden images came back to mind. "The sessera attacked much fiercer than usual, and when the backed off into the desert, we made the terrible mistake of pursuing them. It was a trap. Suddenly, we were surrounded by dozens of these monsters, and I heard my son screaming, begging me to help him as they grabbed him and took him with them. Most of my men were dead or injured, and I was wounded by the poisoned blade... there was nothing I could have..." Kavarim stopped. "It was all my fault."

He closed his eyes as he felt hot tears well up in them. It was a small consolation that Jelenar couldn't see him. Kavarim raised his head in surprise, however, when he felt tender fingers in his hair. Jelenar was softly stroking his head, then his forehead and cheeks. Soft fingertips caught an errant tear with eerie preciseness.

"It's not your fault," Jelenar replied softly. "It's the sessera's fault. You did everything you could."

Kavarim wanted to say something, but every word caught in his throat. Of course it was his fault. He shouldn't have taken Zayn with him. He shouldn't have ordered his men to follow the enemy. So much death and destruction, all because of him. It well served him right that he was crippled now since he hadn't been able to protect his soldiers and his child...

And before he knew what was happening, Kavarim Di'Uzra, proud Commander of the narif'adir, had put his head into Jelenar's lap and was sobbing soundlessly.

~*~

The twin suns were already setting when Kavarim finally had calmed down. Once again he was deeply relieved that nobody had seen him in this sorry state. Jelenar had consoled him silently the whole time and was now stroking his face again. It soon turned into a searching touch, and Kavarim held still when he realized that Jelenar was trying to find out in his own way how he looked like.

"I didn't think you'd have a beard," Jelenar remarked with a slight smile. "Although it's the custom for men who have fathered children."

"It's also less work," Kavarim said. "I only trim my beard when I have to appear before our Sovereign for my reports. He always makes fun of it."

Jelenar's smile broadened. "Which color has your hair? And your eyes?" he asked curiously.
Kavarim pulled a strand of hair before his eyes. "My hair is some kind of light brown," he said. "And my eyes... my wife, who was rather poetical, called them golden. Do you even know what I mean with this? Do you have any idea what colors are?"

Jelenar nodded. "It's hard to explain, but yes. When I sleep, I see colors in my dreams. Of course I don't know if the color I call 'gold' or 'brown' is the same you would call it."

Kavarim nodded. "I guess nobody does. Everyone sees the world differently. Even in... not seeing it."

Slowly, very slowly, he began to understand what that meant. He was so used to dividing the world in black and white, friend and enemy, good and bad, that he sometimes forgot everything was a matter of perspective.

Jelenar carefully touched Kavarim's closed eyelids, then he pulled back his hand. Kavarim realized that for a moment, he missed the inquiring yet tender touch.

"Do you think we could practice some movements with your arm?" Jelenar asked finally.
"Of course! I almost forgot about that," Kavarim admitted.

Jelenar raised his eyebrows in surprise, then laughed. Kavarim had no choice but to join him in his laughter - for the first time since the fight with the sessera.

~*~

Several weeks passed until Kavarim finally made some progress. In the beginning, it had been terribly frustrating, but Jelenar had encouraged him with his endless patience. Finally, Kavarim dared to go into one of the temple's courtyards and tried a few simple movements with his sword. It was far from the once elegant and swift perfection he used to be, but it was a start.

When suddenly two little children came running across the courtyard and threw themselves at Kavarim with a loud cry of "Daddy!", Kavarim's world seemed to tilt back to a familiar angle. He hugged them fiercely, but his gaze went over Oadir's and Kaida's little heads toward a lone figure at the other end of the courtyard. There was no doubt that it had been Jelenar's idea to bring the children to him, now that he was almost back to his old self. He hadn't dared to call for them himself because he had feared their disappointment at his miserable state. But it had been just cowardice on his part. They needed him.

~*~

Kaida and Oadir stayed the whole day, until their governess fetched them. Kavarim had hesitated at first, but finally he had told them that their big brother would never return home. Both children took the news bravely and tried not to cry in his presence. But as soon as the door had closed behind them, Kavarim heard them sob.

He went to the door, resolved to console his dearest, but when he opened it, he saw that they had already found someone else. While Kaida pressed her face into her governess' skirts, Oadir had fled into Jelenar's lap as Kavarim himself had done himself not so long ago. The blind young man's face showed infinite tenderness and compassion as he stroked over Oadir's tousled head.
This sight tore at Kavarim's heart. Had Jelenar looked this way when he had comforted him, too?

For the next days, Kavarim was haunted by that sight, and as soon as he closed his eyes at night, he saw Jelenar's face again. It was a handsome face, not in a chiseled and masculine way, but youthful and pretty. His skin was a bit lighter than that of a typical Al'Menaran, but this surely came from spending his whole life indoors. But it matched the blonde hair that reminded Kavarim of the color of Adan's sun - gentle and yellow, not as harsh and red as Adir's light, Kavarim's patron deity. He had to admit that his thoughts weren't entirely chaste anymore. But it was not just about a pretty face. Kavarim's heart had gone out to Jelenar, slowly, without him realizing it.

Tehida had been Kavarim's childhood sweetheart, and it had always been settled between their families that they would marry. After her death, Kavarim hadn't had the time or energy to think about any kind of permanent relationship. All that had mattered had been his duties as commander.

But there were other, just as permanent bonds between families than marriage. Another person could be brought into the family by adoption or as a consort. But there was still the small but very significant question if Jelenar would ever consider Kavarim for any kind of relationship. Maybe he saw him just as a patient.

But Kavarim was resolved to find this out. He had faced monsters like the sessera. He could do this.

~*~

The next opportunity to speak with Jelenar about these matters came one evening when they were sitting on the balcony of Kavarim's room. Both suns sent their last light over the desert, and Kavarim had just managed to write a whole sentence without stopping the quill. It was an answer to a letter of his deputy commander.

"You are getting better every day," Jelenar praised him. "I spoke to Lady Nuriven, and she thinks you can go home in a few days. You can continue the exercises for your arm that I taught you on your own."

Kavrim looked up in surprise. It had never occurred to him during those last weeks that he had to leave soon. On the one hand he was glad to go back to his work, but on the other hand...

Kavarim had to face the fact that he needed to resign from his post as commander. Another another good opportunity had been offered to him, but it was a painful step nevertheless.

"I'll miss you, Jelenar."

He hadn't meant to say it aloud like that, but it was out now.

Jelenar raised his eyebrows in surprise, then smiled sadly. "I'll miss you, too, Commander."
"It's Kavarim. Plase call me by my name." Kavarim didn't know why he hadn't offered this mch earlier. And, after all, he wasn't the commander anymore.

"Well, Kavarim. But you... you could visit me sometime, if your duties allow it. Or if your arm gives you any trouble," Jelenar offered hesitantly. "Or... I might visit you and your children, if it's not too uncomfortable to you."

"Uncomfortable? Of course not. Let the people talk all they want. I'm not ashamed of your company," Kavarim replied and meant it full-heartedly. He got up and then knelt down next to Jelenar. "But I'd like to offer something better. I'm not going to return to my work as commander. But your grandfather wants to retire, so the post of the head instructor of the military academy was offered to me. This way, I'll have more time for my children as well." He took a deep breath. "Please come with me, Jelenar. Leave this temple and go where you are needed most. I'll drill the young recruits and you patch them up again."

Jelenar's face was unreadable, and Kavarim silently berated himself for having gone too far, but then he saw a tear roll down that beautiful face. "You have no idea what you are saying. I have no rank, no family, nothing outside of this temple. And if you take me in just out of pity..."

"No, Jelenar." Kavarim gently took his chin and pulled him closer. "I want to offer you a place out there. Not out of pity or gratefulness, but out of the sheer selfish wish to wake up every morning beside you."

"Kavarim..." Jelenar bit his lip, which looked adorable. "This would be too wonderful to be true. But... can you truly look into my eyes and mean it?" He raised his head and opened his eyes.
Kavarim looked away on reflex.

"I can feel your gaze, believe me. Look at me! If you can't do it, if you can't live with this sight, then tell me now and don't torture me any longer!"

The sheer pain in Jelenar's voice made Kavarim look. Jelenar was right. Either he could accept Jelenar completely, or he didn't truly love him. This was the moment of truth.
He looked directly into those blind, dead eyes.

But why did he ever fear then? The longer he looked, the less terrible they seemed. The pupils were a milky gray, not the usual black, and the iris... Kavarim realized with fascination that he couldn't say what color they were. The only being he know of that had light eyes were the damned sessera, but this was different. It was a soft greenish blue with some gray mixed in it, like mist over an oasis. Like the light of the moons just before vanishing at dawn. Like unshed tears.

Kavarim pulled Jelenar closer and kissed him.

For a moment, Jelenar war frozen with suprise, but then he put his arms around Kavarim's neck as if he never wanted to let go again. It took some time before they separated again, and this time, Jelenar's smile was happy and free of any doubt.

"And you are truly sure?" he asked. "Otherwise please wake me up from this dream."

"No dream. And I'll prove it to you."Kavarim let got of Jelenar, but kept his hand in his own, grabbing the writing quill from the desk with the other.

The next moment, Jelenar felt Kavarim draw an intricate symbol on the back of his left hand. During the last strokes he recognized it as a family symbol.

"This will have to do until we make it official. You now have family again," Kavarim said and compared the symbol to the one on his own hand. Apart from two little rings around his middle finger that indicted he had been married and was now widowed, and the different deity symbols, they were identical.

"Are you coming with me, Jelenar? There is a lot for us to do out there. And if one of us can't do it alone, we will do it together."

Jelenar put his painted hand on Kavarim's and smiled again in that wonderful way that outshone even Adan's sun and made his eyes take on the color of tears of joy.

Then he nodded. "Together."

END