Brynnan: The Alsar Imperative

The Dancing Boy

Nijal Silverhand, the Alsar Guardian and surgeon, entered the private chambers of Jehanadir, Prince of the city-state and territory of Narib. He was curious about the reasons for the summons but refused to speculate. The competent but unpredictable Prince would inform him soon enough.

The Prince’s boy, Shahin, greeted him warmly. Bare-chested and dressed in a short green kilt, he looked enticingly beautiful. He wore armbands of gold around each bicep. There was a similarity between him and Nijal: both had blonde hair and golden skin, although they were not of the same race. Nijal’s hair was a lion-like mane the colour of bleached autumn grass, while Shahin’s hair fell long and loose below his shoulders, coloured like ripened grain. Shahin’s body was muscular and lithe, as was Nijal’s, but more slender: as an accomplished dancer, the boy kept in shape. Finally, he was just a youth, whereas Nijal was ageless, although he looked young.

Shahin gave him a kiss of greeting upon the mouth, more sensual than perhaps the occasion warranted.

 “Come this way, Nijal. My master is waiting. Dronnadh is with him, although you can probably sense that.”

“Dronnadh has indeed been in mind-touch with me, but I don’t know why we are summoned,” Nijal replied.

“All will be revealed,” intoned Shahin grandly, then he laughed at his own demeanour.

Taking Nijal by the hand, he led him into the reception room. The Prince arose to greet him, his expression welcoming. He kissed Nijal on either cheek, expressing genuine warmth. Jehanadir was an unusual-looking young man with almost blood-red hair touching his shoulders, a bluish tone to his skin and violet eyes—all hallmarks of his hereditary condition. The deep red hair and violet eyes marked him as one who could intimately connect to his land during the Spring Rite of Divination, able to sense how the crops would grow and the animals and forests thrive.

“Come, sit! Shahin will serve us.” Jehanadir led Nijal to a seat beside Dronnadh.

Jehanadir had come to rely on the Diviner, Dronnadh, who was also an Alsar Guardian. Allowing himself to be enslaved by the People of the Boar, a wandering group of Northern warriors, Dronnadh had been sold to Jehanadir for an exorbitant sum. He had quickly achieved prominence among the Prince’s other seers as his ability to read the patterns in nature was astounding. Whether it was a flock of birds, curls of smoke, or a change in the wind: all brought messages to him as he deeply understood how the patterns reflected events to come.

Dronnadh was physically different from Nijal in that he had dark hair and brooding deep blue eyes, but he, too, bore that ageless quality that marked the Alsar and differentiated them from the majority of inhabitants upon the planet who now called it home.

“Nijal, my brother,” said Dronnadh. “Seeing you in the flesh and not just in spirit is good. How goes your program teaching mind skills to the Sojourners?”

Nijal laughed, “I still think of them as the Invaders. But yes, it goes well enough. They have a natural ability, which their fellow telepaths misused during the Invasion. But as diagnostic healers, their skills will be beneficial. We monitor them, of course, but they are sincere and useful so far.”

“Your own skills will be missed here when you are finished,” said Jehanadir. “But let me explain the reason for my summons. Shahin, give them wine.”

Shahin obediently passed out fluted glass goblets of a clear, straw-coloured vintage, serving his master first. Then he seated himself on the floor beside Jehanadir’s chair, and the Prince absently stroked the lad’s blond hair.

“Nijal, you sent a summons to the Warlord, Samir, and Brynnan Marec Mavrenn. They are arriving here later today. Advance messengers were sent to tell me, although I suspect a mind link through Brynnan Marec Mavrenn would have been quicker.

“My Prince, we Alsar are conservative with our communications, being mindful of the limitations of you settlers,” said the dark Alsar Seer.

Jehanadir could have taken offence at being called a settler, although his people had been on the planet for more than three thousand turns, but he was a pragmatist and knew it as only the truth. Through harrowing past experiences, Jehanadir harboured few illusions about human and non-human nature. The Sojourners, once the Invaders, had only been on the planet for three turns. Their massive Generation Ship still cruised in high orbit above the world.

“Dronnadh, I asked you to read our incoming visitors. What can you tell me?”

“As your messengers told you, there are two parties: those from Torrent Mountain and the Senaricans. We know the Warlord of Torrent Mountain and his Bard are here at Nijal’s invitation. There appears to be a threat to his harp, Mavrenn. But also a shadow approaches. I don’t know if the Senaricans are part of the threat or if it comes from elsewhere. Last night I observed a disturbing pattern of clouds across the moon and a raven flying—it was no natural bird. Regardless, the party from Senarica hides a dark secret. I cannot tell what it is, but consider this a warning and don’t engage with them too closely.”

Jehanadir paused before he replied. “I believe I’ll wait until they arrive to find the purpose of their visit. I confess I’m impatient, but fruitless speculation will not serve us. Will more of your Alsar brethren come?”

“Yes, although their physical presence is not strictly necessary. We will also share our thoughts in a mind link,” said Nijal.

Jehanadir’s brow furrowed. “If there is a threat to Lady Mavrenn, I mean the harp Mavrenn, we must do all we can to protect her.”

Dronnadh said, “I recall you met her in Annwn, the Blessed Realm, when your spirit-shadow form travelled there with Brynnan during the Spring Divination. You saw her in her soul’s form as a beautiful woman.”

“I have never forgotten her,” Jehanadir replied, his eyes taking on a faraway look.

But Shahin was smiling. “Brynnan is really coming here! My Lord, may we get together with him as we did previously?”

Jehanadir ruffled Shahin’s hair. “You shall dance for him, then we shall see . . .”

“Please don’t make me dance for the strangers, these Senaricans. I don’t like them already.”

“You may dance, but I will let no stranger near you. And Nijal and Dronnadh will be present at any meetings, my golden boy. Put aside your fears for now.”

“And I will continue to read the signs,” said Dronnadh.

*    *    *

Alone once more in his chambers, except for Shahin, Jehanadir could not help brooding on his Seer’s latest divination. Threats to himself—well, every leader faced those. Someone was always ready to usurp power like his uncle had tried. Jehanadir had been forced to kill him to protect Shahin and himself. If one day it came to that again, he would not hesitate.

His young lover approached him as he sat on the wide bed and kissed his cheek.

“My Lord, let me distract you before your mood takes you down a dark path. Let me pleasure you however I may.”

The Prince looked into the boy’s earnest and expressive face. “I think that’s a good idea, besides you are right about the dark paths my mind wants to travel.”

“Stand up, my Prince, and let me undress you . . .”

Shahin’s fingers were gentle and efficient as he unfastened the clasps on Jehanadir’s richly embroidered blue robe. He put it aside, helped pull his lover’s tunic over his head, and removed his breeches.

Then it was Shahin’s turn, and Jehanadir stripped the boy quickly.

“I prepared myself for you this morning, my Lord. Take me anyhow you wish,” Shahin said.

“I think I’ll let you suck my cock,” the Prince replied, even as he pushed Shahin down on his knees.

Shahin worshipfully kissed Jehanadir’s handsome phallus. It was the same shade as the rest of his skin, with the head darker and more purplish. The boy gripped his lover’s firm buttocks and took the entire cock down his throat with practiced ease, not gagging once. His throat muscles worked it as he swallowed pre-cum and sucked on the shaft, sliding his mouth up and down. He probed Jehanadir’s anal passage, reaching the prostate gland, making the Prince moan in pleasure.

Jehanadir had initially planned to fuck his young lover’s ass, but Shahin’s mouth drew such pleasure from him that he decided to let the boy continue.

Shahin seemed to sense it, for his sucking became more vigorous and deeper. Then he backed off and took the rigid shaft in his hand, jerking it off while sucking and teasing the glans. He clamped his forefinger and thumb around the Prince’s cock, just below the head, squeezing in a manner that would inhibit ejaculation. Jehanadir was nearly there as Shahin edged him delightfully. Finally, the boy relaxed his grip and sucked in a hypnotic and steady rhythm while he massaged the Prince’s tight ball sack.

The combination proved too much for Jehanadir, especially when Shahin again stabbed two fingers into his ass, massaging the prostate. The Prince cried out as he ejaculated, pumping his semen down the boy’s throat. Gripping the long, golden hair tightly and holding his young lover’s head against his loins, Jehanadir waited for the aftershocks to subside. Finally, he bent down, and they shared a profoundly sensual, cum-tasting kiss.

“Come and lie beside me while we rest,” Jehanadir told Shahin. “If visitors arrive, we shan’t rush to greet them. That’s a job for my seneschal. Kambiz will see to their needs.”

“I’m glad, my Lord. I love you so,” Shahin said, cuddling up to the Prince as they lay on the bed.

Reaching down to grasp his young lover’s cock, the Prince manipulated it into hardness. Shahin sighed. Jehanadir beat the boy’s stiff shaft while kissing him, claiming his mouth. They continued in this fashion until Shahin moaned. His body became rigid, and semen spurted from his penis, soaking the Prince’s hand.

“That’s enough for now, my boy,” Jehanadir said softly. Perhaps this evening, you will get your wish when Brynnan arrives.

“I just want to please you, Lord,” his young lover replied.

“You have pleased me, and you will please me again tonight. Count on it!”

*    *    *

The Senaricans and the visitors from Torrent Mountain arrived later in the afternoon. The two troops split, and attendants arranged quarters for the guardsmen. The Senarican nobles were given rooms in a separate wing of the outer Redoubt, but the dark-skinned, bearded Seneschal, Kambiz, sent an attendant with Azander to the Seer’s hall. “You will be in company with a fellow Guardian and Seer, Dronnadh,” Kambiz told Azander. “I’m sure he will be happy to be your guide later.”

“I look forward to meeting him in the flesh,” Azander replied.

Brynnan appreciated the Prince’s cunning in these arrangements. Dronnadh being Azander’s ‘guide’ also meant he could keep an eye on his brother Alsar. Personally, the Bard hoped they could really trust Azander. Except for that initial mind probe, his behaviour had been exemplary.

Kambiz then showed Brynnan and his companions to the royal wing, where the Prince held sway.  

“It is good to see you again, Warlord, along with the Marec Mavrenn and Geraint,” Kambiz told them. Here are your chambers. These attendants shall see to your needs.”

They settled into the spacious rooms. The three servants led them to the bathing area, assisting them in washing. After, Brynnan put on the black silk brocade robe of a Master Bard, even as Samir dressed in a tabard featuring the Torrent Mountain crest of the snow hawk against a jagged mountain. Geraint merely assumed clothing of clean, soft leather.

“The Prince, Jehanadir, will summon you shortly to meet in private; unless you wish to rest first?” said Gildas, the senior servant of the trio.

“No,” Samir replied. “We are ready to see him as he desires. Soonest is best.”

They were led to the Prince’s private audience room with little delay. When they arrived, Shahin presented them to his Lord, Nijal and Dronnadh. Embraces and kisses were informally exchanged, and Nijal’s eyes showed the promise of a later, more personal meeting as his mind brushed Brynnan’s with an intimate warmth.

Jehanadir spoke, “Welcome, all of you. It has been a long time since we met, and I’m glad to see you again. Be seated, and we will discuss these new developments, especially the arrival of the Senarican party. They did not send messengers to arrange their visit, which I find strange.”

“I have cautioned the Prince about them,” put in Nijal. “Dronnadh detects a disturbance in their collective energy. Do you perceive a threat, Brynnan?”

“My spirit form spied on them last night. They are led by Lord Vieri and his Lady, Alessa. I don’t know how much they officially represent the Senarican city council, but I strongly suspect they have their own agenda. The Lord and Lady mentioned their ‘plans’ without disclosing any details. They bear watching.”

Geraint said, “Tell the Prince about Jorge and his nephew.”

Samir nodded for Brynnan to continue, and the Bard obeyed.

“I visited the Wanderers at their Spring Gathering west of Redstone Holding. Geraint was there with Col and Andri, who I am sure you recall from the conference concerning the Invaders and the creation of the Pact. Col’s stallion and Geraint’s colt were stolen by a Hesperon Lord. They followed and were captured but rescued by an old hunter Col had come to know: a retired assassin named Jorge, who lives in the mountains with his nephew, Eirik. I discovered them far from their home with the party from Senarica.”

“Indeed!” exclaimed the Prince. “They must have a reason for travelling with them.”

Erik works as a wheelwright and has become Lady Alessa’s and Lord Vieri’s sexual plaything. “Lover” is too kind a term to describe their relationship. I planned to speak with Jorge and his nephew but have not yet had the opportunity, yet I feel that it is imperative to find out what they know.”

“I see,” Jehanadir replied. “We must find an excuse for you to seek them out. Perhaps you can accompany Geraint when he sees to the men, as Lord Samir directs. I don’t think summoning them here to see us would be wise. We would endanger them by bringing their visit to this Lord Vieri’s attention.”

“I agree,” Lord Samir said. “Perhaps tomorrow morning, we will see how my men have settled in. And you, my Bard, can seek out the minds of the hunter and his nephew.”

The Prince and his guests then discussed Brynnan’s other observations, especially Lord Vieri’s bodyguard, Adelchis. Brynnan told how they had met Azander, the Guardian who had joined their party.

“I will look out for him, agreed Dronnadh.”

“But how can we put him to the test?” asked Geraint. “Being your Alsar brother, he can shield his mind from the deepest probes.

“Not all of them,” interjected Nijal. “There is one way. Brynnan, remember in Siginak when you deep-read the minds of Captain Belisarius and the trader’s assistant, Kuruntu?”

“In a sexual encounter, you mean?” said Brynnan, surprised. “But Azander would know what we do. I suggest we be open about it. If Azander truly has nothing to hide, he won’t object.”

Nijal added, “We must plan an encounter involving all of us here if the Prince and Lord Samir agree. I suggest that you engage with Azander, Brynnan. He might know how to shield with Dronnadh or me, but you have unexpected powers as the Shadow Lord’s son.”

“Considering we are under unspecified threats, especially the threat to Mavrenn, I must agree with you, my friend,” Brynnan said and sighed. “And what of my harp? Have we learned more about the risk to her or her soul?”

Jehanadir looked grave as he replied, “No. There is a way, if you’ll hear it. But it could be dangerous.”

“Do tell us, Prince,” said the Warlord.

Jehanadir began. “In our Spring Rite of Divination, I drink the Water of Life and read my land. Three turns ago, you assisted me, Brynnan, as we sought out threats and sealed the accessways. Together, in spirit form, we travelled to your Father Arawn’s kingdom in search of a new source of the Water. I met the Lady Mavrenn there—her very soul. I did not fully understand then, and I confess I felt—and still feel—a deep attraction to her. I suggest we use me to help seek her out. We can drink the Water, and you could lead me there again. We shall speak to her directly. Can this be done?”

Brynnan felt a cold, then hot, sensation flood his body and recognized it as fear. But his rational mind considered it, breaking down the risks and possible outcomes. If there was a chance, he would take it.

He turned to his Lord. “What say you, my heart?”

Samir looked deeply into the Bard’s dark eyes. “What would the consequences be if Mavrenn was destroyed? And is it possible that an enemy could gain mastery over her? Don’t forget, my Bard, that your life could be at stake if some misguided fool thinks he could break your bond with Mavrenn by killing you and taking over your role.”

Brynnan shivered. “It has been attempted before. In the hands of the unscrupulous, it would cause nigh irreparable damage. Mavrenn has great power, which I keep in check, although with her consent. But if someone could destroy her, it would be a great loss, not only to my people but to the Alsar also. Is that not so, Nijal?”

Nijal nodded in agreement. “It is so. Although I personally disapprove of her, she is nevertheless a part of our tapestry of guardianship in the role given to us by the Mother-of-All. She has, I reluctantly admit, earned her place. I believe that Jehanadir’s suggestion should be attempted.”

Dronnadh joined in. “There is a great disturbance in the patterns. Let me attend our coming together for both occasions. If disaster lurks, it will become evident to my sight.”

“Go, my Seer, and cast your auguries,” the Prince said. “I think that tonight we should invite Azander to join us. Brynnan shall attempt to read him during the sexual act, and you will observe.”

“And I hope you will also join in with us, dear brother,” said Nijal, squeezing Dronnadh’s shoulder. “It has been too long since we shared our bodies.”

Dronnadh smiled warmly at his long-time friend.

“We will meet then this evening,” said the Prince. “Tomorrow, Brynnan will seek out the hunter and his nephew. Then we shall have an official feast where I will invite the Senaricans. And my Shahin shall dance for us.”

“But please, my Lord, not too close to the strangers. Any that seeks to harm you might be tempted to hurl a knife at me,” said Shahin.

“That is something I had not considered,” said Jehanadir, and his eyes flashed. “Never fear, my golden boy; we will keep you safe.”

“And when would you plan to journey in spirit to my Father’s kingdom?” said Brynnan. “I will need to seek his consent beforehand.”

“Say, in three days? The great moon will be waxing near full then. We must ascend the mountain for the ceremony, and the moonlight will help,” replied the Prince.

“Not to mention, her energies will be beneficial. There will be portents in the night that I can read,” said Dronnadh.

“Very well. Until this evening, my friends. Kambiz himself will summon you.”

*    *    *

The evening arrived, and the friends gathered in Jehanadir’s bed chamber. The wide bed and divans, draped with clean linen, provided a welcoming space. Azander had joined them at Brynnan’s invitation. He seemed both willing and interested.

Shahin danced for them. He wore a kilt the colour of flames, his torso crossed with delicate golden chains which matched his armbands. Two musicians attended: a flutist and a drummer.

The drummer, from Shahin’s desert homeland, played his darbouka with an expertise born of years of experience. The flutist joined in and played a light, winding tune, perfectly complementing the rhythm of the drum and Shahin’s moves as he twisted gracefully, chains swaying with his hip movements. The boy exerted precise control over his muscles, and his performance was not only entrancing to the eye but mysterious and erotic.

Brynnan had seen Shahin dance before, and he felt totally engaged. He could feel his lust rising, wanting to take the young man and fuck him hard. He knew he was not alone in his desire. Finally, the drum beat into a crescendo and Shahin spun and then dropped to one knee, bowing his head. Silence reigned briefly as his mesmerized audience recovered before the boy was showered with compliments.

The musicians bowed and retreated. Jehanadir called Shahin over to him and cupped the boy’s face in his hand, kissing his mouth. They exchanged words in an undertone before the Prince spoke aloud.

“Tonight, I wish to share my boy. I have his consent and do not force my loved one to do anything against his will. I know you will all respect that, as there is proven love and trust among us. I ask him to choose among you who will take him first.”

Shahin flushed and looked down briefly. Then he raised his head and bravely faced the men seated before him. His eyes brushed Brynnan’s, and the Bard could clearly read the desire in them, but then the young man looked at the Warlord.

“Would you take me, Lord Samir?”

Samir smiled and said, “I will, boy, But first, I bid you choose another, so you may become more relaxed before you take my cock.”

The Warlord was naked by this point, and Shahin eyed the stallion-sized cock and swallowed audibly, even as his eyes widened in disbelief.

“Thank you, Lord. Then I will choose your Bard. He and I have been together before, along with my Prince.”

“All of you, feel free to pair off. And I beg the indulgence of Lord Samir,” said Jehanadir.

Nijal looked meaningfully at Azander, and thoughts were exchanged. The red-haired Guardian smiled knowingly and approached Nijal with good grace.

“That leaves you and me, Dronnadh. Here, you go first. Take my ass if you wish.” Geraint dropped his robe over a chair to reveal his muscular, furry body. His thick cock stiffened even as Dronnadh watched. They paired off on a couch together, kissing and touching each other’s bodies. Dronnadh held Geraint’s cock-shaft, stroking it to engorgement, and the old Warrior reciprocated. Their mutual masturbation of each other’s cocks aroused them both to a profound degree. Then the Diviner took a bottle of oil from an adjacent table and greased up his cock, then Geraint’s. They shared kisses and jerked each other off until their cocks dripped with pre-cum. Then Dronnadh broke off to suck Geraint’s hefty phallus until the old Warrior bid him cease and lean over the divan they occupied.

The Diviner’s taut body and tight, firm buttocks enticed Geraint, who dripped more oil on his cock and stroked it. Then he wrapped an arm around Dronnadh’s loins and rimmed him, pressing his tongue into the anal opening and making the Alsar Diviner sigh with pleasure.

Nijal and Azander lay side-by-side on another divan and toyed with each other’s bodies and minds. Emotions and senses combined as Nijal sucked Azander’s nipples while the red-haired Guardian rubbed his rigid shaft against Nijal’s.

Samir and the Prince engaged in rough play, striving to pin each other down on the bed. They rubbed their bodies together, cocks sliding in their copious pre-cum, and they interspersed kisses with bites. Finally, Samir rolled face down; Jehanadir climbed over him and drove his oiled cock into the Warlord’s ass, fucking him with rough and animalistic passion.

The Prince seemed more than eager to let go, as he seldom did with Shahin, more as if he fought a battle than made love. At last, he ejaculated and groaned loudly as his cum filled Samir’s ass. There was no time to relax, however, as the Warlord pushed himself aside and turned to roll Jehanadir onto his back; it was his turn to fuck the Prince.

Lying beside them on the wide bed, Brynnan was gentle with Shahin. They had a compelling history together. He had previously helped Jehanadir and the boy to overcome past mental and sexual trauma and had even rescued Shahin when he had been kidnapped by the Invaders. He knew the boy’s body intimately. Now Brynnan lay on top of Shahin, holding him tightly. He delighted in the feel of young, smooth skin and toned muscles. The boy’s looks had a particular delicacy, but that was deceiving: Shahin had a lithe strength. Both he and the Bard were gymnasts: their strength and flexibility contributed to their lovemaking. They gripped each other, and their bodies twisted sinuously as Brynnan sought to penetrate the boy’s delightful ass. As the Bard’s cock slid inside the welcoming portal, Shahin gasped and threw back his head, shivering in ecstasy. They became absorbed in their own world and were unaware of the others, except for Samir and Jehanadir. Part of Brynnan’s spirit was always connected to his Lord, and he supposed the same was true for the Prince’s young lover.

At last, their mutual desire led them to fulfillment, and Brynnan released his cum into Shahin’s ass, even as the boy cried out as he ejaculated in turn. After a sustained kiss, Brynnan felt Samir’s hand gripping his, and he turned to receive his Lord’s kiss.

‘My heart’s love, whenever you are recovered, Azander awaits you. Don’t forget the purpose of our gathering besides pleasure,’ Samir sent.

‘Yes, my beloved, but I beg you to be gentle with Shahin, as you and the Prince were not with each other,’ the Bard replied. ‘Don’t forget his past when he was violently raped by an older man.’

‘Dare you doubt my capacity to go easy on him?’ the Warlord sent with barely concealed amusement.

‘Well, considering how you and Jehanadir took each other like two savage beasts . . .’ Brynnan replied to Samir’s mind. ‘I did not know that the Prince had that in him—‘

‘Oh yes, you, of all people, are aware of the beast that lurks within us. And you know Jehanadir is capable of ruthlessness. You would tell me next that, so am I. It is who we are. But fear not, my lover. I will be gentle with the Prince’s boy.’

‘I am grateful, my Lord.’

Brynnan arose from the bed and took a break, going to wash in the adjacent bathing chamber. He needed a fresh mind to approach Azander. He wondered if the Alsar Guardian had finished with his current partner. The question was answered as Azander stepped under the warm water that poured down from the high stone ledge.

Azander grinned at him. “Are you ready, Brynnan? I have granted you leave to do a deep-reading of my mind to put you and your companions at ease. Don’t forget that it can work both ways. Your mind will be open to me also when I make you cum, for I certainly intend to. Is there anything within you that you had rather not reveal? Don’t worry, however. I will not betray you.”

Even as Azander took him in his arms as water sluiced their bodies, he had to question himself. How much could the Alsar guardian learn, and would it endanger their mission to protect Mavrenn’s soul? The stakes were high.

*    *    *

To be continued . . .

 

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