Brynnan: An Evil in Siginak

The Mirror of Souls

Brynnan followed his Father, the Shadow Lord, out of the lake’s cold waters. His skin tingled from the bracing experience, and he felt refreshed, awake and alert. Before their swim, they had shared their bodies in a profound sexual act that had revitalized the Bard’s spirit and given him strength: the Shadow Lord had told him he would need it.

Arawn finished dressing, then handed Brynnan his purple robe. As the Bard slipped it on, he looked questioningly at his sire.

“Father? You said you wanted to show me something. Do we wait for it?”

“Yes. When the lake calms, and the ripples dissipate, then you will see. Be patient!”

Brynnan waited. Letting the moment take him, he stilled his thoughts and conjectures. The night bird he had heard earlier repeated its cry. 

As he watched, the lake seemed to stretch and expand, becoming a star-filled night sky. Against this backdrop, all Brynnan could make out was a pinwheel of scintillating fire that seemed to draw closer. The fire expanded, becoming a giant figure, back-lit with luminous rings, like those around the moon on a misty night. Parts disintegrated and then re-formed. The apparition, mostly naked, seemed to morph from male to female, then back again, and its eyes glowed like burning suns. It was absolutely terrifying to look upon.

The Bard shivered, his gaze still transfixed by the thing that filled his vision. Moving his hand to his head, he pushed back the hair from his face. The figure did the same.

Shocked, he held out an arm towards it, and the gesture was reciprocated, even as the figure’s outline morphed and reformed, becoming more strongly masculine.

“What am I seeing, my Father?” Brynnan said in wonder. “It is like the soul of a god!”

“Yes.” Arawn’s voice was quiet.

Without thinking, Brynnan murmured, “Darest thou now, O soul, walk out with me toward the unknown region . . .”

“An apt quote,” said Arawn.

Brynnan responded, “An ancient bard from before the Long Dark wrote that.”

“Do you know the rest of the words?”

“I learned them when I was a boy,” Brynnan replied absently.

Beside the image of the Bard’s soul, a second one formed, even more terrifying to behold. Arawn stepped up beside him, and the new creation did the same.

“This lake is called ‘the Mirror of Souls.’ It is a special place in Annwn, like the Stone of Seren, where you received the brands on your chest. When you were killed in the Material World, before you were resurrected, your soul travelled to our realm. It saw itself as a copy of your human body. Your self-conception was influenced by the regained memories of your physical form. The reality is far more complex,” Arawn explained.

“So, when you take the Hunt across the lands in the Mortal Realm, this is how they see you?”

“They may, although their own fears also give me shape.”

Brynnan recalled his Father’s words from a previous conversation: ‘Even gods have souls . . .’ The implication was overwhelming, causing Brynnan to sink to his knees on the grass. As the images of their souls faded, he was only dimly aware of his Father’s hand on his shoulder.

“Come, my son.” Arawn’s words conveyed his compassion. “Soon, you will understand.”

They walked back to the copse of timeless apple trees, to the red blanket lying on the grass where they had made love. Brynnan barely trusted himself to speak, so he listened to the Shadow Lord.

“In light of what you told me of the probe into your being by an undiscovered force, what do you think it wants now?” Arawn said.

The question was rhetorical, the answer obvious.

“More than my mind,” Brynnan finally said. “It wants my soul.”

“And what do you think it could do if it achieves its goal?”

The Bard considered his own growing powers. They were more than supernatural. His Father had not long before bestowed on him a devastating gift: the branded runes of Eternity, Wind and Night that signified the Void: the Eternal Abyss. Brynnan was capable of summoning that power and had nearly done so when escaping imprisonment in another dimensional realm, Aegir’s Island, home of the elemental gods of the Sea, Wind, Fire and Snow. Even with their collective power, the gods could not have prevailed against him if he had followed through. It was unthinkable that some force or entity could pre-empt his soul’s gifts.

He turned his head and looked bleakly into his Father’s eyes.

But amazingly, Arawn laughed. “You are thinking like a mortal again. Do you really believe someone not of your heritage could contain your essence as it is now and survive?”

“How do I know they do not hold a heritage of power like myself?” Brynnan challenged.

“I am the Lord of Life—and Death. During the Long Dark, your ancestors believed they had called me into existence. They only called me into manifestation. I have always existed, and your mother’s people have tales of me that pre-date their habitation of this planet. While I am not omnipotent, I would know if there was another such as yourself. Your adversary is not unbeatable; take heart.”

Brynnan still felt uncertain when his Father, with a gleam in his eyes, pushed him down on the blanket.

“Your body and spirit know better than your mind. I will prove it to  you.”

Arawn then pulled Brynnan’s robe open to expose his naked body. He stroked his son’s flesh, feeling the lean muscles, the dark, silky body hair.

Brynnan half-heartedly protested, “Father . . .”

“Be still, my son.”

The Shadow Lord bent his head and slowly licked his son’s balls and cock: Brynnan’s body responded. His cock twitched, then started to swell. As it grew in size and hardness, Arawn ran his tongue up its length from base to head. He cupped his son’s balls in one hand, then grasped the shaft with his other hand, stroking it up and down. Pre-cum dripped slowly from the piss-slit, and Arawn lapped it up. Then he took Brynnan’s cock wholly into his mouth and began to suck it.

Brynnan could not help himself. He yearned towards his Father and moaned aloud as arousal and desire flooded him. All of a sudden, the problem of his adversary assumed less importance. He realized he was a capable and resourceful man, and Nijal and his Father, the Shadow Lord, were with him. He surrendered to Arawn’s skilled tongue.

Now the erotic sensations were building fast. The wave of Brynnan’s ejaculation rushed upon him, and his cum surged into his Father’s mouth. Brynnan succumbed to the powerful feelings as he spent himself.

Arawn straightened up and kissed him. The kiss tasted of cum; not unpleasant, and Brynnan reciprocated, demonstrating his love and gratitude to his Father.

“You see? Your spirit instinctively knows how much importance to assign to your challenges. If you still are able to garner pleasure in the act, your spirit knows there is a solution. You will be alerted in time and know what to do. Your doubts and misgivings are not necessarily a reasonable response, but a human, emotionally-wrought impediment.”

Brynnan found himself laughing. “Father, after that act of your love, you analyze the situation so dispassionately. But I felt your passion as you were sucking my cock.”

Arawn smiled back at him. “And your friend, Geraint, would say, ‘disrespectful whelp,’ but I am pleased you can laugh. Now I will send you back. Do you have a plan going forward ?”

“There is still the problem of the Master Trader’s assistant, Kuruntu. He promises me a gift tomorrow night. I don’t trust it, but I can use the event.”

“‘Kuruntu’ . . .“ Arawn mused. “I can normally see each soul clearly, but that is someone whose spirit, indeed, whose soul, is confused.”

“Your insight only confirms my suspicions. But I shall be careful and aware.”

“Do that, my son. And do not be afraid of what the Mirror of Souls has shown you. It was a true seeing.”

Brynnan stood, tieing his robe, and the Shadow Lord embraced him and kissed his forehead.

“Go in peace, dear offspring,” Arawn told him. Then he stood back, and Annwn, the Shadow Land and Land of the Ever Young, faded from view.

*    *    *

Brynnan once more felt the cold of the Shadow-ways, but before it could really register, he found himself in the room he and Nijal shared, and the Guardian himself seated before a welcome fire.

Nijal stood up and threw his arms around him. “You’re cold—here, sit. Let me give you some mulled wine. You are always cold after you travel in other Realms.”

Sensing the profound change in his friend, Nijal did not press Brynnan for the details of his visit with the Shadow Lord but let him recover in his own time.

Sipping the wine, Brynnan gradually warmed up, and he felt restored enough to talk about his visit to his Father. He found himself disclosing more than he customarily would have, but the Guardian’s agenda had always run alongside his own—to be of service to his world, to the Mother-of-All.

“Part of me fears what I have become, or am becoming; the other part of me has bigger concerns than to worry unduly about myself,” Brynnan told his friend.

Nijal’s lips quirked in a smile. “There speaks the Bard I know and love,” he quipped. “And you mentioned our friend, Kuruntu. What did your Father say?”

“That he could not clearly view that young man’s soul.”

“Hmm . . . That is significant. Let us see what happens tomorrow night. But now, come to bed. I would like to use your body.” Nijal raised an eyebrow suggestively.

Brynnan took off his robe and folded it. “Rather, Let me suck you off, or pleasure you however you want. I need to know that I can do the activities that make us human.”

“Speak for yourself,” Nijal laughed.

“I sometimes forget, Nijal. You’re not quite human, are you?”

“Alas, we Alsar are more human these days. We have learned from our supplanters, and now, with the Sojourners, we have a new batch. At least you, my friend, carry our blood in your veins—the alterations to your biochemistry wrought by my blood.”

“And my Father’s heritage,” added the Bard as he laid himself upon the bed.

Nijal joined him after stripping off his own clothes. “Very well, dear friend. I will give you the chance to have your way with me. No doubt you have a score to settle.”

“No scores. I just want to give you my love. I am feeling grateful for whatever humanity I do have left.”

*    *    *

The traders' caravan travelled through a green, open land the following day. Low hills of waving grasses with tall, feathery heads rippled in the breeze. Insects hummed, birds called, and the weather was clear and warm.

Brynnan and Nijal enjoyed the summer sights and sounds but did not relax their guard. Occasionally the Master Trader would ride alongside them.

“Where do we lay over tonight, Tajinder?” asked Nijal.

“There is one more Trader’s Hostel on the route. When the Sojourners were allotted a place for settlement a year ago, the first thing we did was lay out a supply route with hostels.”

“The settlers will have to rely on us while they become established since we forbade them any technology that did not fit with our world,” said Nijal.

“Personally, I think that’s a good idea, considering their past aggressive actions with weapons we do not have,” said Tajinder, adding, “By the way, Kuruntu has asked that I join him in meeting with you this evening if you agree.”

“You would be very welcome,” said Brynnan. “But can you spare the time?”

“I can spare a sun’s hand-width. When we reach Siginak, my work really begins—making sure the workers there are ready to warehouse our goods and tally them.”

Nijal’s thought reached Brynnan’s mind, ‘I want to tell him to be careful, but you and I will just have to watch out for him.’

‘Agreed!’

*    *    *

Brynnan was pleasantly surprised at the hostel. It was well-equipped, with a large bathing room, which the two men made thorough use of. They were also given the best sleeping chamber. The bed looked as if it could accommodate several people, and the bedding was clean.

As a courtesy to the other traders, Brynnan and Nijal ate a meal in the common room, and afterwards, the Bard played his harp, again keeping the songs light. Nijal examined two men who had minor ailments; one of them was a bite from a pack animal. The other, oddly enough, had a nasty rope burn on his hip.

“You shouldn’t put the rope where it doesn’t belong, especially if it is knotted,” Nijal told his patient, and the others laughed, causing the man to blush. Again, they left the company in better spirits than they had found them.

Shortly after returning to their room, Tajinder announced himself at their door.

‘Now it begins . . .’ Nijal sent his thought to Brynnan as the Trade Master entered with Kuruntu at his shoulder.

But they greeted their visitors warmly with an embrace, and Nijal accepted an ancient-looking bottle with an iridescent patina from Kuruntu.

“I traded one of our fellows for this. He said it is from the far land of the Flaming Mountain and contains a particularly potent liquor.”

Tajinder added, “It’s a strange coincidence: the mountain has the same name as my assistant: Mount Kuruntu. It means ‘Mount Chimaera’ after the fabulous and terrible beast composed of many others.”

Brynnan felt as if a door had suddenly opened. He should have recognized the assistant’s name, for he was fluent in many languages. But he had not associated the word ‘kuruntu’ with a Sojourner’s name and had thought it merely sounded similar.

He sent to Nijal, ‘My adversary is hiding in plain sight. Did I not say that when I tried to trace the mind-force back to whoever was projecting it, there was no individual but a chimaera?”

‘But I believe you’ll find one person at the head position. Perhaps our Kuruntu is only a minor part caught in its web.’ Nijal responded.

Out loud, he said, “I thank you. Mount Chimaera has an old association with legends of our pre-settler history.”

Nijal opened the bottle, poured a small amount into a clay cup and tasted it.

‘It contains alcohol, and various botanicals, one of which is poisonous in large doses. It also contains a mild mushroom hallucinogenic,’ he sent to Brynnan.

Aloud, he commented, “Both relaxing and stimulating in small portions. A fine flavour.”

Nijal served the drink to the others as they relaxed, contemplating the erotic events to come. It was decided that Brynnan would partner with Tajinder first and Kuruntu with Nijal.

Tajinder sent a querying glance to Nijal, who nodded, then the Master Trader approached Brynnan. Their first kiss was tentative, but it seemed like they would enjoy each other’s bodies. Tajinder, freshly bathed, had a body scent of perfumed resin and musk and his mouth tasted of the anise flavour of the liquor. Brynnan kissed him again, then began to shed his robe. Tajinder helped him undress before the Bard reciprocated.

Brynnan admired the Master's naked body. His muscular form was contoured by his black body hair on chest and stomach, and his cock in its nest of curls was thick and promised to be significantly large when erect. Tajinder similarly appraised  Brynnan’s physique with an appreciative eye. They embraced and kissed again, touching each other intimately, and the Bard found himself responding.

The Master Trader was a mature and authoritative man who knew what he liked. Right now, he liked what he saw in Brynnan and quickly took command.

“Suck my cock, Brynnan, and give it your best,” he directed.

Brynnan didn’t mind Tajinder's dominance. He gave a half-smile of knowingness and compliance mixed, and knelt to perform his task. Grasping the stiffening, dusky cock, he glanced upwards into the trader’s eyes and saw the warmth and excitement. He stroked the cock several times as he lowered his head and licked the Master’s balls, smoothly transitioning to his cock. Tajinder grunted as Brynnan took it in his mouth and began to suck it. It tasted both clean and slightly salty with pre-cum. He deep-throated it, taking the member to its hilt and then sliding his lips and tongue back to the head slowly and sensually, repeating this action while Tajinder sighed and thrust his hips forward.

“You know what you’re doing, don’t you? I hear you have powerful lovers. They must demand excellence,” said Tajinder with a tigerish smile.

It was true, Brynnan reflected as he sucked. His heart’s love, the Warlord Samir, the old Warrior, Geraint, who had taught him so much, his friend the ageless Guardian, Nijal and his Father, Arawn; Shadow Lord, King and Huntsman.

The Master Trader’s cock was rigid now, and he was well on the way to achieving satisfaction, but he had further instructions for his partner.

“Lie face down on the bed. I want to fuck your ass.”

Breaking away with regret, for Brynnan had been enjoying himself, he complied and stretched himself out over the covers. He could hear Nijal and Kuruntu: he had no idea what they were doing, but they sounded very involved. The Bard decided to let Nijal keep the Master’s assistant safely occupied for now while he joined with Tajinder. Still, he knew that before the evening was out, he would have to engage with Kuruntu and face whatever possible danger the young man posed. He switched his focus back to the Master Trader, who knelt beside him, stroking the lean muscles of his back.

“You have the muscles of a great cat,” Tajinder commented. “I discern both strength and agility in your build. Do you perchance climb trees?”

Tajinder was teasing him, but Brynnan laughed because he had a habit of doing precisely that. When he was away from Torrent Mountain, there was no practice arena where he could perform his gymnastic exercises. Tall trees were an excellent substitute for rings and bars, besides being a perch for ravens.

“I wish I could show you, Master Tajinder,” he responded.

“You can show me how well you take a hard cock in your ass. Don’t expect me to be overly gentle. I like to take my pleasure vigorously!”

Brynnan readied himself. Nijal had put out lubricant, and the Bard was pleased that Tajinder used it.

The Master took his cock in hand and introduced it into The Bard’s rectal passage. Despite his strong words, he was considerate enough to pause at first, although Brynnan nodded.

“Go ahead,” he said

Tajinder pushed deeper in and, finding no objection, put it in all the way, then began to move in a smooth rhythm. He soon increased his stroke until he was fucking Brynnan lustily, pounding against him. The Bard could hear the slap of flesh-on-flesh. He responded by pushing back against the Master Trader’s thrusts, urging him fuck harder. Brynnan realized that he had become very aroused and that ejaculation wasn’t far off.

Then Tajinder encouraged Brynnan to roll on his side part way and bent down and kissed him while continuing to thrust deeply.

“Master Tajinder, I am going to cum very soon!”

“Wait, and we’ll cum together,” the Master said, thrusting into his partner with all his energy.

Brynnan could not resist that sensation driving waves of heat and lust throughout his genital region and ass. He threw his head back and groaned as his cum creamed out from his cock, helpless this time to stop it, nor did he want to.

Simultaneously, Tajinder pulled out and, beating his cock hard, came over his partner’s ass, then on Brynnan's cock, so that their cum mingled as the Bard rolled to face him. Then the Master held his partner’s slippery cock as he massaged their cum into it. Afterwards, they lay prone on the bed together, breathing hard. It was only then that Brynnan saw that Nijal was fucking Kuruntu, who was leaning over the table.

Tajinder arose and pulled Brynnan up with him. “Let’s go to the bathing room and rinse off,” he suggested, and the Bard agreed.

Eventually, Nijal and Kuruntu joined them. The young assistant had a strange expression, and his eyes were feverishly bright.

“You must let me pleasure you, Brynnan,” he said. “I have something for you that I learned.”

As they returned to their room, Brynnan saw no further reason to delay, but he did not want to put Tajinder in harm’s way.

“That was a strenuous workout you gave me,” he told him. “I am afraid I could just sleep right now.”

“I admit that I, too, am tired. A long day, followed by an exciting evening,” said Tajinder.

“Why don’t you retire for the night? I’d like to do that too, but Kuruntu has plans for me. I know you will have a hectic morning. Kuruntu has the energy of youth; I may not be that much older, but old enough to respect my body’s inclinations.”

“Perhaps you are right—I do have much work ahead of me. For Kuruntu and myself, there may be another occasion, but I would prefer to have memories of you and me as a memento of our journey together.”

They kissed, and Tajinder took his leave. Brynnan breathed a sigh of relief.

*    *    *

“You two enjoy each other,” Nijal said. “I need to go out to the stabling area. I believe I left a bag with Myst’s saddle that I meant to bring in. I won’t be too long.”

Privately, Nijal sent to Brynnan, ‘I will be close and will listen. If our Chimaera is going to make a move tonight, it should be now.”

‘I am ready,’ the Bard sent back.

As Nijal left the room, Kuruntu said, “I hope you will allow me to suck your cock. I recently learned a special technique that will please you very much.”

The young assistant had unbraided his long, pale blond hair, which lay loose over his shoulders. The soft look contrasted nicely with his masculine appeal. He looked harmless.

“May we go to the bed? I can do more there.”

‘I expect you can . . .’ Brynnan thought to himself.

Lying together on the bed, the Bard took the initiative and touched Kuruntu’s face, looking deeply into his eyes. He saw only innocence and desire. A deeper probe indicated nothing.

‘Am I wrong about him?’ he wondered.

They fell to kissing, with Brynnan taking the lead until he allowed Kuruntu to move his way down to the Bard’s erect cock. Kuruntu licked it.

‘Now, we will find out,’ Brynnan thought as his cock responded.

*    *    *

To be continued . . .