Meet Me in Montenegro

Oleksandr wakes up with a start, groggy and disoriented. His head throbs like he's been hit with a club and his back hurts like blazes. He rubs his eyes, trying to clear his head.

"Damn it..." He mutters, wincing as he sits up, feeling the pain in his back send a flare of agony through him. He looks around the room, realizing he must be in a surgeon's parlor. He takes in his surroundings, trying to gain his bearings. The room is sparsely furnished, with a chair, a table, and a few other basic pieces of furniture. There are no windows, and the only light comes from a single oil lamp in the corner.

Oleksandr realizes that he's shirtless, with just his loincloth. He can feel a bandage wrapped around his shoulder blade, where the surgeon must have treated his wound. He pushes the covers back and slowly stands up, wincing as he feels the pain in his back. He gingerly touches the bandage on his ribs, feeling the ache and stiffness in his muscles as he tries to walk.

"Damn it," he mutters again, taking a few clumsy steps across the room. His head is still foggy from the dream, and he can still feel the touch of the woman's hands and body against him. He glances around the room once more, taking a few experimental steps to see if he feels up to walking. The pain in his back and head is still throbbing, but he pushes through the discomfort, ignoring the urge to lie back down. Oleksandr exits the room into the main laboratory, the smells of blood and herbs filling his nose. He sees the surgeon sitting in a chair, performing a blood-letting procedure on a woman, who is seated with her arm extended. The surgeon glances up as Oleksandr enters.

"Up so soon?" He remarks, arching an eyebrow at the sight of the wounded man on his feet.

"How long was I out?"

The surgeon continues his work, letting blood from the woman's arm into a dish. "You were out for a good fourteen hours or so, you lost a lot of blood. You almost died, you know," he replies. "I gave you some laudanum to help with the pain, but it looks like you're up and about already.” He pauses, glancing over at Oleksandr then back to his patient. The surgeon continues to work as he talks, his hands moving with practiced skill to draw the blood from the woman's arm. “We took out the most we could from the arrow, but the tip is still lodged between your ribs. It would've done a lot more harm than good to remove it. Your rib kept it from piercing through to your heart, had you been in a slightly different position... Perhaps you have a guardian angel."

Oleksandr nods, acknowledging the surgeon's words. He's no stranger to near-death experiences, and he knows how lucky he's been to survive this one.

"How long until I can go?" He asks, his voice still a bit hoarse from the laudanum. The surgeon finishes up with the blood-letting, tying off the vein and covering the woman's arm with a bandage. He glances up at Oleksandr, his expression one of professional detachment.

"It'll be a few days before you should even consider moving, let alone riding," he replies. "You'll need time to recover and let your wounds heal. With the placement of the injury and the arrowhead’s position between your ribs, any movements will agitate it worse, possibly causing internal bleeding. I'd give you a week at least, maybe two, before you start moving or fighting again."

Oleksandr mutters "shit," under his breath as the surgeon talks. He's not happy about having to take it easy for two weeks. He raises an eyebrow, looking at the surgeon, "but I'm up. I'm walking," he says, with a hint of defiance in his voice. The surgeon regards him with a calm, even gaze.

"Just because you can walk, doesn't mean you're healed," he replies. "You've lost a lot of blood, and have a serious wound in your back. You'll be in agony if you try to ride right now, no matter how 'tough' you think you are." Oleksandr bristles a bit at the surgeon's words, but knows the man is probably right. Still, the thought of having to take it easy and lay low for maybe two weeks is unbearable.

"And what am I supposed to do until then?" He asks, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice.

"Maybe consider investing in some chainmail, hm..?" He responds, with a hint of mockery in his otherwise neutral voice. Oleksandr grumbles under his breath, returning to his room.

Days pass. Long, painfully boring days that blurred together in the dim confines of the surgeon’s parlor, each one more tedious than the last. Oleksandr found himself trapped in a restless cycle. Reading books he had no interest in, pacing the worn floorboards until his legs ached, drifting in and out of sleep that brought no rest, and choking down the bland, flavorless meals served to him. Conversation with the surgeon and his patients offered little distraction; their stories and ailments only added to the monotony. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been forced to lay low for so long, confined to a space where time seemed to crawl, each hour dragging into the next with excruciating slowness.

But even the endless boredom was better than the thoughts that plagued him whenever he closed his eyes. No matter how hard he tried to focus on anything else, his mind kept returning to her—the woman from his dreams, the one who had danced in the field of flowers and later appeared in the bed, her touch lingering on his skin like a phantom sensation. She haunted him, her image filling his thoughts with a mix of yearning and unease that he couldn’t shake. The memory of her was like a fever that refused to break, leaving him simmering in his own frustration and longing, with nothing to do but wait for his body to heal and his mind to find peace.

He rolls over in the bed, and his eyes widen in surprise as he sees Thekkur sitting in the chair in the corner of the room. He rubs his eyes, still half-asleep, but fully alert once he realizes who it is.

"Looks like the mighty Oleksandr got a little boo-boo, huh?" He rolls his eyes at Thekkur's tease, a hint of irritation in his voice.

"Shut up, you idiot," he mutters. "I got an arrow in my back, not a 'boo-boo.' I could still kick your sorry ass, even like this."

"You love that laudanum don't you?"

"Yeah, well, it helps with the pain," he admits, a hint of defensiveness in his tone. "Or would you prefer I suffer in agony?"

"If it keeps you from crying, I'm not complaining." Thekkur says with a shit-eating grin. Oleksandr shoots him a murderous look at his taunt.

"Don't push your luck, you bastard," he grumbles, "I may be laid up, but I could still lay you out if I wanted to." Thekkur snickers, crossing his arms behind his head with a sigh.

"I'm pulling your leg, big brother. You have me to thank that you're in this room and not in the grave with me." Oleksandr rolls his eyes, but can't help but soften a bit at his twin's words.

"Yeah, well, I suppose I should be grateful for that," he mutters. "Thanks for saving my ass, little brother. Even if you are a pain in the ass sometimes."

"Or a pain in the rib, you might say." Oleksandr rolls his eyes again, a hint of amusement in his expression this time.

"Yeah, yeah. Smartass." He shifts a bit in the bed, wincing as he feels a flare of pain from his injured back.

"You know, you and those gypsies really pulled a Sodom and Gomorrah on those Ottomans." Oleksandr manages a dry chuckle at Thekkur’s words.

"I guess we did, didn't we?" He says, a hint of pride in his voice. "Those roaches never saw it coming. They thought they could overrun Hungary, but we gave 'em a rude awakening."

"You killed a lot, Olek. That might've been a new record."

"Maybe," he mutters, a hint of ruthlessness in his voice. "But it was necessary, and they are barbaric. Desecrating sacred grounds. I did what had to be done. They knew who they were dealing with when they tried to demoralize me with that… that wicked act. I just had to give them a warning of what will happen when they screw with me and mine." Thekkur sympathetically watches Oleksandr speak, his attempt to suppress his rage and grief evident.

“Yeah.” Thekkur sighs. "I'm not blaming you. Plus, those damn Turks shouldn't have been there in the first place. Had you not done it, who knows how many Hungarians would've died defending their homeland from those… those invaders. You know I would've been right there with you. I must admit, using the intestines was genius." Oleksandr nods in agreement at Thekkur's words, a hint of satisfaction in his expression at the memory of the battle siege.

"Thanks," he says, a hint of pride in his voice at the compliment. "I was just improvising. But it seemed to do the trick." He gives Thekkur a wry smile. "And yeah, you would have. You always did like bloodshed as much as I did." Thekkur nods, gazing back out of the window next to him, before looking back at him.

"Gypsies, though?"

Oleksandr shrugs, a small smirk forming. "Yeah, I know, I know. I changed my mind with them since I met Barant a while back. He's helpful, and honest, hardworking. And his sons came in clutch. Strong lads. Not to mention, loyal to their country. Besides," Oleksandr chuckles. "They're not all that different from us, you know? We were nomads too, thieves even. We both get pushed around. Called dirty. Treated as outcasts. As far as the world is concerned, they're just another breed of barbarian." He gives Thekkur a sly look. "Plus, they're great for causing some chaos."

Thekkur chuckles, "yeah, you're right. I never minded them, but you were always distrustful of them, especially back in Constantinople." Oleksandr nods in agreement, his expression growing a bit more serious.

"Yeah, well... The things I saw in Constantinople," he says, a hint of resignation in his voice, "it made me a bit more pessimistic than we already were, I guess. I saw the worst of people there. And some of the worst were the beggars, thieves and urchins. They'd do anything to get a piece of gold. Even betray their own." Thekkur watches him as he speaks, giving a slight nod of understanding. He had always known his brother to be a bit of a cynic, but the things they saw in Constantinople hadn't helped. He sits in silence for a moment, watching as he thinks. Then he looks back at Oleksandr with a hint of a smirk on his face.

"Speaking of gold," he says. "I have something I need to show you." Oleksandr looks at Thekkur suspiciously as he speaks, eyebrow raised.

"What?" He asks warily. "What is it?" Thekkur comes close, reaching under his tunic and pulling out a small leather bag. He upends it, and a fine, gold chain with a charm on it falls into his hand. It looks small enough to be a young girl's bracelet. Oleksandr picks it up to inspect it, and he sees the charm is that of a ruby bead.

"What the hell is this for?" He asks, looking quizzically at Thekkur.

He shrugs. "I don't know. Something told me it might be of importance to you someday. Here..." Thekkur takes the small chain, and tilts Oleksandr's head to the side, taking his large, gold hoop earring in his fingers.

"You're acting weird, you know that?" He mutters as Thekkur loops the chain around his earring a couple times, securing it, so it dangles.

"Yeah, yeah." Thekkur pulls away, looking Oleksandr over. "Looks pretty cool I think." Oleksandr looks down at the tiny bracelet connected to his earring, studying it for a moment. It does look pretty damn cool, he has to admit. He touches it gently with his fingers.

"I guess, yeah," he murmurs. "But why are you giving it to me?"

“I gave you that torc, didn't I? Consider it a gift.”

Oleksandr rolls his eyes, but his voice is warm as he responds. "You're such a sap sometimes, you know that?" He adjusts the earring, letting the chain dangle. "But... thanks."

"Mhm," Thekkur looks over Oleksandr, crossing his arms. "Man, I miss my jewelry. I feel weird without it." Oleksandr's expression softens as Thekkur mentions his missing jewelry.

"Yeah... you always liked being flashy," he says, a hint of lightness in his tone. "You looked like a peacock half the time with all that gold and trinkets you wore."

"Says you. You wear more jewelry than my girlfriend did."

Oleksandr rolls his eyes, an amused smile on his lips. "Ah, shut up, at least my jewels are more subtle than yours. You clanked like a damn church bell whenever you moved," he retorts. "I swear, the enemy could hear you coming miles away."

Thekkur bursts out laughing, "yeah, they could have shot my dumbass in the dark." Oleksandr chuckles too, amused at the memory of Thekkur and him, decked out in jewelry and gems, jingling around everywhere they went.

"You were a menace, you know that?" He says, still smiling. "I swear, I spent half my time in battle keeping an eye on you, making sure you didn't get yourself killed by being a careless fool." Oleksandr pauses, realizing what he said, and his smile fades. "I mean, I tried."

Thekkur's expression softens. "Don't worry, bro. I would've died a lot sooner if it wasn't for you. It was about time I paid you back with this little arrow fiasco." Oleksandr looks away, his expression conflicted. A part of him wanted to argue that Thekkur didn't owe him anything, that he was just doing what he should have done as his twin brother, but he knows it's pointless. Thekkur was never one to take no for an answer. He sighs, giving his twin a dry look.

"Yeah, I guess. But I still wish your sorry ass had stuck around a bit longer."

"Yeah, I know. I still had a lot I wanted to do." There's a moment of uncomfortable silence as Oleksandr and Thekkur both look away, lost in their own thoughts. Then, Oleksandr glances back at his twin, his expression softening a bit, trying to lighten the mood.

"Hey... you want to hear something crazy?"

"Always," he says, a hint of curiosity in his gaze. "What is it?"

Oleksandr hesitates for a moment, then speaks. "I've been dreaming of a woman for the past couple of months," he says. "I have no idea who she is, where she's from, or why I'm seeing her, but... she's like an obsession. I can't get her out of my mind."

Thekkur smirks and sits back down in his chair. "Oh yeah? Is she hot?"

Oleksandr rolls his eyes. "Seriously, man? That's the first thing you ask?" He says with a scoff. He sits up on the bed a bit more, leaning back on the headboard. "But yeah, she's beautiful. In fact, she's more than just 'hot'; she's like a goddess. I've never seen anyone like her before."

"Damn. You got it bad, brate. You're craving a doll of your own. I told you, you're going to be sick of your 'I'm meant to be alone' shtick." Oleksandr sighs, a mix of irritation and resignation in his expression.

"You always did think I was just being melodramatic," he says, rolling his eyes. "But I'm not just spewing bullshit, you know. I really do think I'm meant to be alone. This woman... I don't even know if she's real. You think I want to spend my life chasing a ghost?"

"Well what are the dreams like? What does she say?"

"They're... strange," he says, his brow furrowing slightly in recollection. "Most of the time, she appears to me when I'm dreaming about something bad, something traumatic. It's like she's there to soothe me, calm me down. But then, other times, she appears to me in more... intimate settings, and we have sex. Like she knows exactly what I want. It's weird."

Thekkur rolls his eyes. "Oh, brother. You're having wet dreams again like when we were teenagers." Oleksandr blushes slightly, a mix of embarrassment and annoyance on his face.

"Hey! It's not like that!" He protests weakly, "seriously, man, just... stop being a dick all the time. I'm trying to have a serious conversation here. " Thekkur forces himself to stop smiling.

"Okay, okay. Jeez. Okay. Does she say anything?" Oleksandr looks away, a hint of frustration in his expression. He doesn't know how to explain what he's been feeling.

"Sometimes," he says. "Usually, she whispers things to me. A lot of the time she’s comforting me, or encouraging me. But other times, she doesn't say anything at all. She just... appears. Touching me, holding me. It's... intense. But... There's one thing, she's repeated many times now…"

"What is it?" Oleksandr hesitates for a moment, a conflicted expression on his face. He feels almost foolish saying it out loud, but he figures Thekkur is one of the few people who won't call him crazy.

"She always says the same thing whenever she leaves. Before she disappears." Oleksandr pauses, swallowing the lump in his throat. "She says... Meet me in Montenegro." Thekkur raises an eyebrow, surprised at the revelation.

"Montenegro? You serious?" He asks, a hint of disbelief in his voice. Oleksandr shrugs.

"Yeah, man. That's what she says. I've only been in Montenegro a couple of times, usually just to pass into Albania." Thekkur nods, a contemplative expression on his face.

"Well, it's kind of a specific place. Have you thought about going there?" He asks, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees.

"Yeah. I was going to go down there after I was done with the Greek Fire shenanigans but now I'm stuck here with this damn arrow in my back." Thekkur grins, shaking his head at the irony.

"Man, you're just full of great timing, aren't you?" He says, giving Oleksandr a dry look. "Maybe fate delayed you for a reason." Oleksandr rolls his eyes at Thekkur's comment. Typical. Like he's some kind of damn sage or something.

"Yeah, or maybe fate just wants to screw with me," he mutters, his annoyance clear. "Either way, it sucks. I'm sick of sitting around on my ass doing nothing. I need to get out there again."

"Your back should be better in a few days. Then you can go off and find this dream girl of yours. I want some nieces and nephews already." Oleksandr nods, a determined look in his eyes.

"I will. As soon as I can, I'm going to go to Montenegro and find her." He grins slightly. "I'm tired of dreaming about her. I need to see her in the flesh. Get her to have my babies. Oh, God…"

"You need to.. see her flesh, more like it, you horny bastard." He shoots Thekkur a glare, but it's half-hearted.

"Shut up, man. That's not... I mean, yeah, she's hot, but it's more than that. There's... something about her. I can't explain it. I just have to know who she is." Thekkur's smile softens a bit, his voice sincere.

"I hope you find her, man."

"Yeah, me too. Honestly, I'm starting to get worried. I mean, these dreams are... intense. It's like she's calling me towards her. I feel like I need to find her as soon as possible. But I just don't know where to start."

"Just do what you do best, what we’ve always done. Go wherever the battles take you." Oleksandr smirks weakly at that.

"Yeah..." He says, his voice dryly amused. "Because the middle of a battlefield is the most romantic place to meet a woman."

"You never know, brate." Oleksandr rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, right. And I'll ride up on a white horse and sweep her into my arms, and we'll ride off into the sunset together." He snorts. "You're such a hopeless romantic, you know that?"

"Trust me, it happens. You know this."

"Aye, I know," he says with a sigh, a hint of resignation in his voice. "But this... this is different. I don't know why, but I have a feeling that this woman is something special. I can't just barge in, smelling like unwashed ass and swinging a big sword around. It needs to be... more elegant, I guess."

Thekkur stands up, smoothing out his tunic, and he looks out the window. "It's almost sunrise. I should head out."

Oleksandr looks out the window, surprised to see how late it is. The sky is slowly turning a deep red-orange as the sun prepares to rise. He looks back at Thekkur, an expression of sadness and disappointment on his face. "Seriously? You're leaving already?"

"Yeah, Olek."

Oleksandr pushes himself up on the bed, not wanting his brother to leave, his voice almost pleading. "Already? Can't you... stay a little longer?"

Thekkur smiles softly, a hint of sadness in his eyes. "You say that every time." Oleksandr sighs, frustrated. Thekkur is right, he has said it every time he has dreamed of his brother. But he can't help himself. He doesn't want to lose him again.

"I... I know," he says, a hint of desperation in his voice. "But can't you just... stay here for a while? Please?" Thekkur walks over to his bedside and sits on the edge.

"You know I can never say no to you."

Oleksandr smiles, a bittersweet expression on his face. "I know," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "You never could." He reaches out, grasping Thekkur's hand in his own, feeling the familiar warmth and weight of it. Thekkur leans against Oleksandr's pillow, gently caressing his head with his free hand while he drifts off to sleep...