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Chapter 20: The Price Love Pays

Zaldon had a cold. Again.

It seemed that over the years, his body had been weakening severely. He had noticed it that third time Kel summoned him: his heart hurt a little when he arrived, but he had made love to Kel and Aliona anyway, whose happiness had for several years been more important to him than his own bodily health. So he would appear in their bedroom in the dark. Poof. And after crawling under the covers with them, would enjoy the heaven of their bodies, fall asleep with them snuggled either side, and pointedly ignore it when he felt his heart skip an unhealthy beat.

But Zaldon was past fifty now. It was getting hard to ignore it. He sneezed wretchedly into a washcloth, and feeling feverish, he grabbed another cloth and dipped it in a bowl of water, then patted his face with it. It hadn't been long since his last visit with Kel, and that visit had taken more of a toll on him than anyone had guessed. But Zaldon was determined that no one should know.

After all, why should he ruin everyone's happy lives? Yuri and Enya were so content together. It was more than that. It was pure joy, the way they looked into each other's eyes, held paws, wrapped their tails together as they walked down the street. Not long ago, Zaldon and Julyan had come to their hut for dinner. They arrived before Yuri had finished making her rounds, and it was the sweetest thing to see Yuri come in the door, "Honey, I'm home," take off her heavy cloak, kiss Enya's cheek, and join them around the fire for supper. Enya had ladled out bowls of warm stew that cold winter's eve, and looking at them both, Zaldon smiled sadly to think it: the girls were adults now. Glancing over at Julyan, he noticed his lover wearing a similar sad smile and knew he was thinking the same thing.

But what Zaldon would give, he sometimes thought, to have that sweet little blue child in his arms again. He'd never told anyone, but having Yuri was almost like getting Ettore back. He swallowed thickly just to think that name. Ettore. The name meant infant coos and giggles, pup blankets and swaddling cloths, and the wooden crib he had built himself. The name conjured memories of the smiling face of that ever-laughing child as he held her in the air. The name conjured memories of Alea's screams after they found the child dead.

It was so cruelly simple, the way their child died. They had all been so busy with preparing the wedding, with settling Zaldon into the hut. TayeLok had insisted that Zaldon, as future captain of the guard, should meet everyone and anyone with a famed name in the moon village. Alea's hut had been a-bustle because of their child - their child, the one they were making all the fuss over, was the one they let die. They had been so certain the village council would say yes to the marriage. They had been so certain that Zaldon was the next captain of the guard. They had been so certain that Ettore would grow before their eyes, filling them with wonder and joy and pride as the years passed. All of them. They had been so damned certain.

A feather. A feather fell from the swinging mobile over the cradle, fell into Ettore's lips as she slept, and choked her. She never had a chance to cry. A servant came in once to check on her after she was already dead. She hadn't been dead long. The color had not faded. She had looked like she was drooling, mouth open, in her sleep.

He and Alea had both been so torn. They were both wolves who already bore broken hearts, and lying in the bed together just days before as they played with their daughter, Zaldon and Alea had confessed to each other that Ettore was the one beautiful thing in their lives, the one thing worth fighting for, worth living for, worth dying for. Alea had been hurt so many times by so many males, and Zaldon's heart was aching after years of rejection by Kel. But when they both looked at Ettore . . . none of that had mattered.

Zaldon squeezed his big fist on his cup. Alea! The fool! That night years ago when he was with Alea for the last time, she had confessed to him that she had run away from home in search of him. After crossing the sea and several weeks of travel on foot, she'd gotten lost in the northern forest.

Lying in bed with her in his arms, Zaldon had scolded her. To think what could have happened to her! But she had reminded him with a playful tweak of his chin: she had once saved him from thieves when she was but fourteen. She could handle herself. Thus silenced, Zaldon had let Alea continue. She told him that after wandering the northern forest aimlessly in search of the winter village (which Zaldon had told her he was from), she had come across a crying pup. The little boy told her he was lost and that he had run away from home, that he hated his mother, but now he wanted to go back. He was terribly hungry and his sister was gonna whip him when she found out he was missing.

"I remember kneeling down," Alea had told Zaldon as they snuggled in bed, "and I told the pup that I was in the same situation, only I was too far now to get back home."

Zaldon had stroked her ears to hear the sadness in her voice, to think of TayeLok and how worried he must've been when his one and only daughter disappeared. Alea went on to tell him that she took Talib home, and that was how she came to be with the mountain wolf tribe . . . and later with Teesa. Talib became like a little brother to her and Teesa quickly became her lover. And she was happy with the mountain wolves. But still . . . sometimes she would go out to the meadows at night . . . and she would look at the stars and think of Zaldon.

Present-day Zaldon closed his eyes and ignored the tears as they fell - one, two - into his herbal drink. He stirred the hot medicine with a wooden spoon and breathed in the steam rising from the cup. He took a long drink and sank back in his pillows, big and muscle-bound and white. No, just like Alea, Ettore, and every other painful part of his life, he mustn't tell anyone. He must bear this sickness alone and try to just . . . keep living.

After all, everyone was so happy.

Yuri and Enya were happy and prosperous. Enya, ever the pistol, had taken to hunting for a living. Female hunters were allowed in the sun village, and Enya took full advantage of it. Every morning at the crack of dawn, she strapped on her weapons and went out to kill, returning home with a meaty carcass over her shoulder, as strong and independent as any male. She would plop the carcass down, cook part of it for Yuri, and sell the rest at market. It wasn't at all necessary: Yuri was now the head sorceress in the village after Zaldon's petitioned retirement, and she made more than enough to feed them and several clones of them. Enya just enjoyed caring for Yuri.

Then there was Kilyan, whose family seemed ever-extending. Zane now had a son with each of his wives: Mio and Zee. The boys looked like their mothers but were regular brutes like their father. They were mostly well-behaved boys, only getting in trouble for the typical boyish behaviors: fighting, yanking little females' tails, pulling pranks. But they were very close to their father, and it wasn't an uncommon thing, seeing six-year-old Mio and Zee swinging from their huge father's biceps, their tails flashing as they giggled.

Kilyan's third son LiAnh, however, was more than a pawful. Always talking back. Always breaking rules. Always, always, always getting in fights with his sister Wynn. It was a common thing, hearing the boy's defiant shouts as Kilyan's spanked him across a knee. But clashing with his temperamental nature, LiAnh could be very sweet when he wanted to be, and he was often jokingly called Lea's little blessing (for Lea celebrated his birth -- regardless of her desire for a girl - by burning a candle to her ancestors).

Despite the extra challenge of raising another son, Kilyan was happy too: Zaldon had witnessed Kilyan's happiness firsthand at a family get together in the sun village. Kilyan had sat among his laughing, chattering family as everyone ate. He was the only one silent, but Zaldon knew it was because Kilyan was happy: Kilyan always spoke the least when he was happy. He smiled on his sons, gazed mistily on his daughter, looked with admiring eyes upon his wives, and smiled every now and then at Zaldon, the smile of a son gazing proudly at a father.

Zaldon had transported them all to Yuri and Enya's hut, and it was there that Kilyan, his wives, LiAnh, Wynn, Inden, Zane and his family, and Roan and Theo all sat to have supper with Zaldon, Julyan, Enya, and Yuri.

Zaldon had wanted to bring his childhood friends and their wives, but Julyan, seeing the pale expression Zaldon could not hide, forbade it.

Zaldon sighed as he set his cup aside. That was the thing about Julyan: it was so damned hard to hide anything from him! He had been slaving for a long time to keep his growing illness a secret, but it seemed as if Julyan was slowly becoming disillusioned. Zaldon suddenly grabbed the cup again and gulped the rest of the medicine down. He had to be up and walking before Julyan came home. God forbid Julyan figured it out. Oh, god forbid.

There had to be some way to get better. There had to be some way. And in the meantime, as he searched in secret for a cure to his illness, he must keep everyone at bay. He hadn't slept with Julyan for the longest time, he avoided seeing Yuri and Enya, Roan and Theo as much as possible, and where Kel and Aliona were concerned . . .

Zaldon closed his eyes as the distant thunder rolled across the pearly white sky. It was morning and the storm clouds had rolled back, but they hovered still at a distance, sliding every now and then before the pale sun and sending long shadows across the earth. Zaldon had spent the night before wracked with guilt. The way he had treated Kel and Aliona! Six years ago, he never would have predicted such a scene: his own paw shooting out from him as he pushed Aliona so hard she fell. The looks on their faces. He had wanted to die for doing such a thing, for growling at them so ferociously, for slamming that door so hard. But he couldn't risk them getting ill! And, god, if they only knew how hard it had been for him to do such a thing.

That was the price he was willing to pay for love.

Zaldon heard a knock on the door and groaned. Couldn't they take a hint? Must they keep forcing him to hurt them? Silently cursing Kel and Aliona's stubbornness, Zaldon pulled himself up from the bed and set his cup aside. He didn't notice it as he lurched up the hall, but there was blood staining his nose. He went to the door and stood sniffing to see who was on the other side. He blinked. It was Ceara.

"It's me, Zaldy!" Ceara called in her characteristically friendly voice. "Open up!"

Zaldon smiled to himself as he fumbled with the door. Julyan's older sister was getting along. She sounded so old! There was a creak in her voice now, and around her ocean-colored eyes were very deep wrinkles. She was a lot like her younger brother: silver and friendly and so attractive that she still turned heads, regardless of her age. When Zaldon pulled the door open, he smiled to see her standing on the step with a basket of lunch on her arm. Such visits on her part had been many in the past, and Zaldon had heartily enjoyed sitting with her and Julyan for a lunch of fish and fruit in the calm breeze of the backyard.

Ceara stood hunched over now in her old age, her long and thick mane tumbling down to frame her face. "I heard you weren't accepting visitors," she teased. "Wait til I tell Julyan."

Zaldon managed a weak laugh. "Julyan isn't here, Ceara. You know him: likes to keep busy. Retirement won't stop him from his shopping sprees. So . . . maybe another time?" Zaldon's heart was beating hard in his chest: the last thing he wanted was for old and frail Ceara to catch his illness. A wolf her age was certain to die from it! He was about to close the door when he noticed the horrified look on Ceara's face.

Zaldon stared at her. "What?"

Ceara suddenly pushed past him without a word, and dropping her basket down near the fire pit, she turned to Zaldon with her paws jammed on her hips. "That!" she said, pointing at Zaldon's face.

Zaldon wriggled his nose, and feeling the wetness there, he touched his fingers to it and gasped to find blood. He looked up quickly. "Ceara, I can explain! I was putting up a shelf and the hammer hit me in --"

"Spare me your lies, Zaldon!" Ceara said over him. "I'm not Kel and Aliona. I'm not small enough for you to bully or push away!"

It was true. Being a sun wolf, Ceara was only a few inches shorter than big Zaldon. She had always been big and tall for a female, sun wolf or not.

Zaldon's ears went back flat. So this had been a setup to make him open the door! He sat in defeat in a chair beside the window, and leaning his elbows on his knees, he bowed his head. "Who else knows?"

"Kilyan and Keeno came to me last night," Ceara went on. "And they told me everything." She looked at Zaldon in disgust. "So now it all makes sense. Julyan has been hurt for a long time, Zaldon. Do you know that he's been coming to me all this time? Miserable and so rejected and thinking it was his fault? He thought you didn't love him anymore! The way you've treated him --"

"I didn't want him to catch it!" Zaldon said, lifting his head.

Ceara's pretty ocean eyes flashed and her breasts heaved as she scolded, "That's no excuse! You should have told us! We're you're family, we love you! What was going through your mind? Did you really think you could bear this alone?"

"No," Zaldon admitted to the floor, "but I was prepared to try."

Ceara's expression softened. "Oh, little brother . . ." she said, crossing the room to him.

Zaldon smiled to himself. Ceara had taken to calling him little brother once he married Julyan, and how secretly delighted he had been. He closed his eyes when Ceara curled her fingers in his mane and pulled him to her belly in a hug. He clung to her, feeling like such a fool for what he'd been putting everyone through.

"Promise me you won't keep secrets like this anymore!"

"I promise," Zaldon answered.

Ceara would have scolded Zaldon further, but she could only gasp: Zaldon suddenly sank from her arms and to the floor.

When Zaldon awoke some time later, it was to find himself in his bed. Julyan was sitting at his bedside, his silvery fur aglow with the orange dusk as it poured through the window. Zaldon closed his eyes and took Julyan's paw apologetically. Julyan said not a word, just squeezed Zaldon's fingers and peered at him with sad lavender eyes. They sat in silence for a long time as the sun sank away outside, as darkness crept across the sky and the twitter of the birds faded to the chirrup of crickets. The storm clouds were rolling back and the sky was clearing, the air fresh and cold after the drizzle. Zaldon took a deep breath and winced when it hurt his lungs. He started to cough and didn't understand it when Julyan took a cloth and dabbed at his mouth. Julyan rinsed the cloth out in a bowl of water, and Zaldon's heart skipped a beat: the cloth was stained red.

"You're dying, Zaldon," Julyan said heavily. His pale lashes fanned down as he rinsed the bloody cloth out.

Zaldon felt his blood run cold.

"They're working on some way to heal you," Julyan went on. "Yuri already looked at you." He swallowed hard, and Zaldon suddenly realized that Julyan was trying very hard to be brave - Julyan was trying not to cry!

Zaldon didn't know what he could say or what he could do to stop the look that was on Julyan's face. There was no one he hated to see sad more than Julyan. He fumbled for Julyan's paw and managed hoarsely, "Leave that." It shocked him when more blood spilled over his bottom lip.

Julyan let the bloody cloth drop in the water and instead took Zaldon's paw as he had asked.

"You shouldn't b-be here," Zaldon whispered with difficulty. "What if you caught it?"

Julyan shook his head. "It's not contagious, Zaldon."

"What? But how do you know -?"

"Like I said, they've been working on it. Yuri has gathered every magic practitioner, young and old, in the village. They held council for many hours, and after Yuri examined you, she and the others realized it wasn't some disease or old age. You're dying from magic, Zaldon."

Zaldon lay silent in the sheets, his black eyes staring in deep thought at the opposite wall. He had suspected for some time that it might have been magic, but he'd never taken the possibility seriously. Magic wasn't supposed to kill you. Magic wasn't something that imploded; it was something that exploded, killing your enemies - not you! But for some reason . . . Zaldon's magic had been killing him. And according to Julyan, it had been killing him for years.

"You've known for a while, haven't you?" said Julyan darkly.

"I thought I could fix it without having to tell anyone, without the risk of spreading it."

"I know, honey," Julyan said, smoothing a sad paw along Zaldon's mane. "But still, if you had just told me, we could have fixed this together! What do you think marriage is, Zaldon? It's a partnership. No, not marriage - love. What do you think love is? There are so many wolves who love you, there was no reason to go through this alone!"

Zaldon closed his eyes. He wanted to kiss Julyan fingers, to apologize, but he was afraid of more blood. He could feel it now, the hole that was eating his insides. It was a magical hole and had started like the eye of a needle. Over the years the hole had grown larger, expanding just a tiny fraction every time Zaldon raised his paw, every time he summoned his powers to heal and bless, to blast and destroy. Every time he visited Kel and Aliona.

"What a price you've paid, Zaldon," Julyan said into the silence. "I think that price has become your life --"

"Hey," Zaldon managed soothingly. He looked up when Julyan's voice broke and touched his cheek. "I'm not going anywhere, Lavender Eyes! Now that I know there's some chance of recovery, I'll hold on with my teeth - I'm not going to let this take me!"

Julyan closed his eyes and tilted his head as Zaldon's paw caressed his cheek. "I want to believe you, Zaldon, but what if it's too late?"

"No!" Zaldon cried at once. "Never too late! That's the thing about magic, my sweet Lavender Eyes. It can almost always be reversed."

Julyan closed his eyes as Zaldon caressed him and suddenly clapped his paw tight to Zaldon's arm.