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Haldric

Haldric’s mind was a jumbled collage of half-formed images. They danced before his eyes like the shattered reflections caught in a broken mirror, each lingering only long enough to confuse him further with their distorted familiarity.

A sickly man draped in crimson silks clutching at him with a trembling hand…

A bloody battle atop a hill, people shouting and screaming as swords clanged together and magic sizzled through the air…

Churning runeflame engulfing a stone chamber, washing over Haldric like an implacable tide and dragging him down, down into black depths…

That last image lingered the longest, returning again and again amid the other stolen glimpses. As he struggled to make sense of the hallucination (dream? memory?) a new figure resolved amid the whirlwind of silver-and-blue magic.

Benjin standing at the maelstrom’s heart, hands outstretched, reaching for him with wild, desperate eyes…

“Haldric? Are you okay?”

Haldric jerked awake with a startled gasp. The raw fear squeezing his chest intensified when he realized he was in an unfamiliar bed chamber, entombed by heavy stone walls reminiscent of the stone chamber he’d seen in his dreams.

Peering about in an attempt to regain his bearings, he realized another figure stood right beside his bed, leaning over. His gaze locked on Benjin’s face. An echo of that final vision flickered before him, and he instinctively scrambled back, shoving off his sheets as he struggled to put some distance between them.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded, his pulse racing.

Only after the words left his lips and he saw Benjin’s crestfallen expression did he realize how harsh he must have sounded.

Benjin averted his eyes, staring down at the rumpled sheets. “Rescuing you…or so I thought.”

Haldric winced at Benjin’s hurt tone. “Sorry.” Struggling to calm his pounding heart, he shifted closer until he perched on the edge of the bed near Benjin, forcing his tensed posture to relax. “You startled me. I…I was having a bad dream.”

“I can imagine, after the day you’ve had.” Benjin fixed him with a strained grin. “But everything’s okay now. We’ll figure this out—together.”

He moved to embrace Haldric. Haldric resisted the gut impulse to lean away, wrapping his arms around Benjin. Part of him was relieved to feel Benjin’s familiar weight against him and drew comfort from their shared touch, even as another part of him struggled to let go of his nightmares. Duchess Janelle’s and Grand Magus Dexil’s warnings from the previous day chipped away at his resolve.

Was this really the same Benjin he’d fallen in love with? Had they even fallen in love—was any of their shared history actually true?

Even if it’s not, he likely believes the lie, too. The thought did little to ease the doubt twisting up Haldric’s insides.

Benjin broke the embrace first, jarring Haldric from his brooding. He squeezed Haldric’s shoulder, offering another brief smile before moving toward the door…or at least, what was left of it.

“What happened to the door?” Haldric asked, staring at the shattered latch.

“We had a minor disagreement.” Benjin paused in the doorway, leaning out to quickly scan the hall in both directions. “We can discuss everything that’s happened once we escape. Even if no one heard the racket I made getting through that door, it’s only a matter of time before someone comes to check on you.”

Giving a dazed nod, Haldric pulled himself from bed and tugged on the clothes he’d discarded the night before. As he buttoned up his shirt, hesitation slowed his fingers.

“I truly wish that were so, Your Highness. But deep down, we both know it’s not.”

That was what the Grand Magus had told him, right after he’d called Haldric out on his fleeting moments of déjà vu. Perhaps this really was all a big misunderstanding, as Haldric hoped. But if he fled now with Benjin, he might never know for certain.

Over by the doorway, Benjin shifted impatiently. Tight bands of runeflame curled around his fingers. “What are you doing? We need to go!”

“Maybe…” Haldric licked his lips. “Maybe we should stay. At least, until we have a better idea of what’s going on.”

Benjin’s runeflame winked out as his concentration snapped. His eyes seared holes into Haldric. “Have you lost your Void-cursed mind? These people kidnapped you and tried to murder me! On my way to you, I heard all about their deluded fantasy that you’re some long-lost prince. And you want to stay here with these lunatics?”

“They were trying to capture you,” Haldric noted, sidestepping Benjin’s comment about his alleged royal lineage. He still found that part difficult to accept himself, no matter how certain everyone else seemed. “They said they needed you to break the spell.”

Benjin threw his hands in the air. Little sparks of runeflame flicked from his fingertips. “Oh, capture instead of murder—all the better!” He started to shake his head, then paused, his eyes narrowing. “Hold on. What spell?”

Wondering if perhaps he shouldn’t have mentioned it, Haldric did his best to relate what the Grand Magus had told him. “They said I’m under the effects of a magical curse—that we both are. It erased our real memories and replaced them with this fake life together. To break the spell and restore our memories, they need to perform a ritual with the spell’s original caster.”

It took Benjin a moment to realize what Haldric was implying. When it clicked, Benjin gave a dark chuckle that set Haldric even more on edge.

“So that’s why they want me alive, huh? They think that I cursed you. Goddess have mercy, what a load of nonsense.”

Haldric had protested much the same earlier during his discussion with Duchess Janelle, reassured himself of it while falling asleep. Now, however, he remained silent. After hours spent wallowing in uncertainty coupled with the lingering effect of his nightmares, the idea that he was cursed no longer seemed quite so far-fetched.

Even if the implications tore at his heart.

Benjin caught Haldric’s expression, his amusement fading. “Hold on—you don’t actually believe any of that rubbish, do you, Hal?”

Haldric’s gut roiled as the vision of Benjin enveloped by swirling runeflame flashed before his eyes. He looked away, staring down at the shadowed floor.

“I’m not sure what I believe anymore. Since yesterday morning, everything’s been so confusing. I keep having these strange flashes of memory…”

Benjin drew in a sharp breath. Haldric looked up in time to catch Benjin’s expression of recognition before he could mask it.

“You’ve had them, too,” Haldric demanded. “Haven’t you?”

A scowl tugged at the corners of Benjin’s lips. He crossed his arms tightly over his chest. “Like you said, it’s been a confusing few hours. I’m not sure what exactly I’ve experienced.” Haldric tensed as Benjin stepped back into the room and clasped his hand with both of his own. “But what I am certain of is our love. Maybe you’re right, maybe there is something strange going on here. But whatever it is, we’ll figure it out and deal with it together. Now come on, before they find any of the bodies I left in my wake.”

Benjin tried once again to tug him toward the door, but Haldric resisted, yanking his hand free with a spike of alarm. “You didn’t hurt anyone, did you? Those guards were just doing their jobs.”

Benjin fixed him with a flat look. “They’ll live, if that’s what you mean. My apologies if I wasn’t exactly gentle with my true love’s captors. Now, come on —we need to go.”

Haldric hesitated, staring at Benjin’s proffered hand. He wanted so badly to place his faith in Benjin and their shared history—to take his hand and escape all this madness. Those guards had caught them by surprise before, but as two semi-trained mages, he and Benjin should be able to handle themselves just fine.

But…what about Duchess Janelle and the Grand Magus? What about the ritual to restore their tainted memories?

What about the truth?

Slowly, he shook his head. “I’m sorry, Benjin, but I can’t leave. Not yet.”

The mix of hurt and betrayal that crossed Benjin’s face tore at Haldric. “You believe them, don’t you? You believe those strangers over me.”

“All I want is the truth.” Haldric’s voice cracked. “Don’t you want that, too?”

Benjin stared at him for several heartbeats, his expression unreadable. Then, his face hardened, twisting with a harsh determination Haldric had never seen there before.

“If you won’t come with me willingly, then I’ll drag you out of here by force!”

The fierce glint in Benjin’s pale gray eyes sent a prickle of fear spiraling down Haldric’s spine. Could everything the others claimed be true? Was Benjin really some dark wizard who’d cursed them both in order to steal Haldric away from his life and force him to love someone against his will?

Benjin stepped toward him, and Haldric reacted on instinct, scampering away until his back pressed against the cool stone wall. Benjin froze. They stared at each other for a long moment, neither of them moving.

Sudden shouts echoed from the corridor outside, accompanied by the heavy thud of boots. The guards had arrived.

Haldric wasn’t certain what he’d expected Benjin to do—to keep coming for him, perhaps, or else to turn and try to fight his way free. Instead, Benjin simply stood there, lowering his hand and releasing his grip on runeflame as armored soldiers poured into the room.

Haldric’s erratic pulse thrummed. This is for the best , he told himself as the guards bound Benjin’s hands and gagged him to stop him from casting any spells. They won’t hurt him. They said so themselves: they need both of us to break the curse. We can get to the bottom of this and clear this mess up.

But no matter how he consoled himself, he couldn’t stop the hollow feeling growing in his chest. The entire time, Benjin’s gaze never once left his face, and as Haldric watched the guards drag Benjin away, the silent tear he saw trailing down Benjin’s cheek broke his heart in two.