Brynnan: The Alsar Imperative : Chapter 5

The Raven’s Flight

Azander did not question Brynnan in the following days, but eventually, as Brynnan rode beside Geraint, he felt a touch in his mind. Recognizing the source, he allowed the thought in.

‘Greetings, Bard. I have contacted my Alsar Brother, Nijal. ‘Silverhand’ as you call him.’

Brynnan simply invited Azander to continue.

‘I have learned some things about you. You took the blood of the Alsar within your body and were infected with the carrier virus. You are changed and no longer simply human. Perhaps that explains the spirit bird I observed taking flight.’

Brynnan knew that Azander was wrong about his spirit form: that ability was part of his heritage from his father, the Shadow King, but he did not enlighten the Guardian. ‘So? What is your conclusion?’

‘That you are uniquely positioned to protect Mavrenn,’ Azander replied.

‘You deem that she needs protection?’

‘Yes. I know you are reluctant to trust me, but in all sincerity, Mavrenn is in danger.’

‘From whom?’

‘I cannot discern the source, but I know it draws closer. But I wonder what dire circumstance impelled Nijal to give you our gift. It is rarely done and only in the most extreme of circumstances.’

‘As I said, I consider Nijal a friend. He saved my life. Perhaps he wanted to keep Mavrenn’s protector alive,’ Brynnan sent back.

‘Ah! That is likely so. He does value you, it seems.’

Unwilling to discuss Nijal, Brynnan switched topics. ‘We will reach Narib and Prince Jehanadir’s court shortly. Will the danger threaten us before then?’

‘Possibly. If you permit, I will guard.’

‘Tell me, Azander. Is the danger from a person of your race? When my spirit travelled, I felt a drawing together of Alsar minds. They reached a consensus: they seemed protective. I’m curious: why did you not follow me then?’

‘You would not understand our protocols. At that time, it was not my place to intrude,’ Azander replied.

Brynnan made up his mind. ‘Then ride forward and join me in meeting my Lord Samir.’

As Brynnan predicted, Samir was most interested in Azander’s take on the threat.

“Do you discern that our possible enemy is one or many?” Samir asked.

“I get the sense of a principal individual who may have the support of others he or she is with. Normally, an Alsar mind stands out like a rose blooming in the desert, a flash of noticeable colour. But, whatever this entity is, it shields itself well,” said Azander.

“I’ll send outriders to range before us and to the sides of our troop.” Samir then turned to Brynnan. “If they spot any unusual activity, I may ask you to investigate in your spirit-raven form, my Bard.

The Bard was surprised at his lover’s openness before Azander.

“I, too, can investigate in like manner,” offered the Alsar Guardian.

Samir pondered this, and Brynnan sensed the reluctance in his mind.

“Let my Bard attempt it first. If danger threatens him, then you can follow.”

“As you wish, Lord,” said Azander equitably.

Nothing presented itself that day nor on the following two days. They entered the wooded hill country of Narib unmolested. But riders reported in as they drew closer to the Citadel below the mountain.

First was a Deieros watchman. He rode directly to Asirin and the Warlord, who were riding side by side and, bowing his head and clenching a fist across his armoured breast, the rider greeted them respectfully.

“Report,” commanded Asirin.

“A large body of mounted men, some sixty to eighty strong, is on the main east road leading to the Citadel, with many pack horses and wagons.”

At that moment, two other outriders drew up and supported the Deieros warrior’s account with a more detailed analysis.

“The main body appears to be lightly armoured warriors on horseback. But there are many civilians with them. At the group’s centre is a cluster of wagons bearing banners, but I could not see the device on them, even with the spyglass.”

“Will we intercept them before they reach the outer environs of the city?” Samir asked.

“They travel slower than we do and appear to be paused at the moment.” said the Deieros warrior. “I estimate we can intercept them within two hands of the sun.”

Asirin turned to the Warlord. “Let us meet up with them. We can tell at our approach if their intentions are peaceful or hostile.”

“Agreed,” replied Samir. “But first, a short stop while my Bard projects his senses in their direction. Let us see if we can identify them.” He turned in Malpaisan’s saddle and called out for his Captain. “Alanus, attend me!”

Alanus swiftly came and presented himself. “What are your orders, my Lord?”

“Put the men on alert. We will rest briefly and then continue our journey to intercept the strangers. Send Cadmus to Strategos Asirin.”

“At once, Lord,” replied Alanus, saluting Samir before wheeling his horse and riding away.

The troop halted and dismounted to tend to themselves and their horses. Brynnan sat on the grass, his back against a large boulder. Geraint sat at his side.

“May I also guard you?” said Azander to Brynnan.

“Please do. Between you and Geraint, I should be safe.”

Azander glanced knowingly at him. “But I imagine the old Warrior here is adept at assisting your return if need be.”

“I am at that,” said Geraint. He raised his voice. “All you others, pull back and give us some space! Our Bard needs to rest his eyes.”

Some understood, but others did not. However, they drew away, leaving Brynnan in the company of his friend and the Alsar Guardian. The Bard bent his head, relaxing his body so that he leaned against Geraint’s shoulder. He felt Samir’s staunch presence touch his mind, and he let go.

Invisible to most eyes, the spirit-raven formed and perched on Brynnan’s knee. Geraint watched it as it crouched, spread its wings and flew into the sky. Then it disappeared.

‘May the Good Spirits aid your swift return,’ Geraint thought.

The raven winged onwards. It entered the aether and saw the collected spirits of men and horses. Abruptly, it burst into the Material Realm above the assembly of strangers. Scanning them, he opened his awareness wider as his raven spirit form settled on the roof of a wagon. An older man and his younger companion nearby were talking, and he overheard them clearly. Then the older man mentioned two people the Bard knew and loved. Brynnan started in shock.

‘By my Father’s name! He seems so familiar. Who is this man?’

The younger man, bearded, with long, brown hair tied in a ponytail, said to his older companion, “I wish their wheelwright would recover. It would be nice to have someone else who knows what they’re doing, like Col, to help me. That’s the third broken wheel, but it’s nearly fixed.”

The older man responded, “But it’s fortunate that Col and Andri left when they did. Just do what you can. We are nearly at the Narib citadel.”

“But we’ll camp, and Lady Alessa wants to see me tonight,” the younger man complained.

“I wish you’d be more careful, Eirik. I think Lord Vieri knows what you do.”

“I agree with you, Uncle, but he stares at me sometimes, and I swear there’s desire in his look.”

“You are, unfortunately, a handsome young man. I’ve heard others talk. Come on, let’s finish the job. I’ll help you.”

The two men walked away.

Brynnan flew off, circling the stranger’s company. He counted some forty guardsmen: easy to see in their red surcoats over chainmail shirts.

He examined a small group of men standing before a wagon that sported flying banners. All four were richly dressed, and one bore a thin gold circlet around his head. In contrast with his companions, the man to his left had a dark and brooding presence and subdued clothing. Brynnan felt the man’s hawk-like awareness. They spoke quietly, but the raven spirit caught their words.

One said, “It’s unfortunate we have a delay, my Lord Vieri. We will have to camp this night, even though the Citadel is relatively close.”

The man with the circlet, Lord Vieri, replied. “That suits me. I have business with my Lady wife and—another.”

The darkly clad stranger, however, lifted his head suddenly. “Hold, my Lord. I am sensing something . . .something close. Let me search.”

Brynnan didn’t wait. He flung himself into the aether. ‘That man is sensitive; he sensed my presence—how?’

Back at Geraint’s side, his body jerked upright.

“Whoah, my lad!” said Geraint, gripping the Bard’s thigh. “Are you fully returned, or do you need help?”

Brynan shook his head. “No. I will be fine; just give me a moment.”

“That was an abrupt awakening. What happened?” asked Azander, looking concerned.

“I think I was about to be detected. A man with the Lord of that party sensed me.”

“Did you read him?” Azander persisted.

“I didn’t have time. I just left as soon as I realized his growing awareness. I don’t know what he is—perhaps an adept: a seer or a shaman. A feeling of danger cloaked him. When we meet them, we must be circumspect.”

Azander nodded in understanding, seeming to take the Bard’s news calmly, but Geraint was agitated. “Wait until m’Lord Samir or I encounter him first before you meet him in the flesh.”

“It’s alright, old Warrior. He won’t recognize me as the presence he sensed. Let me speak to my Lord.”

Geraint hailed a nearby warrior who guarded them. “Fetch the Warlord. The Marec Mavrenn needs to speak with him.”

Samir came swiftly, accompanied by Asirin, and Brynnan recounted his observations. “Their soldiers seem well-disciplined, and I would not underestimate their fighting ability. They are temporarily delayed, so we will catch up to them sooner.”

“You mentioned banners,” said Asirin. “Did you see the device on them?”

“A black stag on a red field, a yellow crown around its neck.”

Asirin swore, “By all the Fallen, I know who these people are!”

“You don’t seem happy. Who are they?” queried Geraint.

“Enemies,” said Asirin. “We Deieros were from the city-state of Xylon. For a long time, leaders of the Senarican city-state sought to invade us, and we warred with them. Our brothers fought bravely, but some were slain in our last encounter, and many were injured. We were gaining the upper hand when a sudden change occurred: coming to a truce, our city council made a treaty with the Senaricans. Their council agreed to cease Senarican aggression if Xylon would disband the Brotherhood. That is what our state leaders tried to do, but rather than break the Deieros Brotherhood, we left and became exiles. Some of our wounded were necessarily left behind, but they managed to secretly recruit others to replace our losses, then joined us after you, Lord Samir, gave us Redstone Holding. We are ever in your debt.”

The Warlord absorbed the revelation before he responded. “This could make things difficult. When you fought, how were you identified?”

“Our shields bore the device of Xylon: a grey wolf, but crossed by an arrow and a sword to represent our Brotherhood. After we left, we painted our shields blank.”

“But now you wear our Torrent Mountain device on your shields,” Samir replied. “Your Redstone branch has a pine tree against a mountain on a rust-red field, and Kyros’ branch at our Citadel has the device on a green field. Do you think these enemies of yours will recognize you straight away?”

Asirin considered Samir’s words. “We should pass as your special troops until the Senaricans converse with us, though it will be hard to hide our pairings as lovers, nor would I wish to. But I will inform my men of the situation.”

“Do that. My own guardsmen’s crest of a snow hawk against a mountain is well-known. As long as you don’t flaunt your identity or give any of them information or conversation, Asirin, we should be fine. I’ll bring my guardsmen to any meetings with them, although you and Cadmus may attend,” said the Warlord.

Then he turned to Brynnan. “I regret there’s no time for you to rest, my Bard, but we will continue now. I will rely on your discretion when we meet these Lords.”

* * *

As they neared the Senarican company, the Warlord sent advance messengers to greet them. They returned in the company of five Senarican guardsmen and two richly dressed nobles. After their parley, Samir’s party drew closer, and the Warlord and his leaders accepted the invitation to meet with Lord Vieri.

The Lord did not seem too pleased to see them, but he remained courteous enough. He introduced them to his attendants, Lazzero Precipio, a black-bearded man with jewelled earrings and Matteo Baldassar, tall and blond. He neglected to mention the name of the third man, the quietly dressed stranger. Brynnan recognized him as the man who had sensed his presence. He pegged him as a personal bodyguard to the Lord.

The bodyguard did not appear disturbed when Brynnan and Asirin were introduced, along with Geraint and Captain Alanus. Samir did not use Asirin’s title of ‘Strategos.’

“We seem to have the same destination, Lord Vieri,” the Warlord said. “The Red Prince Jehanadir’s court is not far off, and we planned to reach it in the morning. We are no threat to you and offer to share this evening’s camp where we may get to know one another.”

Samir’s words put Lord Vieri in the position of appearing fearful if he refused. He took the bait as he replied, “Your warriors may camp beside ours. I trust you will keep the peace, as will I. Torrent Mountain is far from us, but I have heard of you. Our city-state is a member of the Alliance and also fought the Invaders who arrived. May we meet in peace.”

“Indeed, Torrent Mountain has no record of conflict with Senarica. Perhaps we can advance our mutual agendas.”

“Perhaps. Cooperation will benefit both of us. But I suggest for now we continue our journey. My scouts have located a suitable site for a camp that should accommodate both our parties.”

* * *

The evening at the camp went smoothly enough. The Warlord was introduced to Vieri’s beautiful wife, Lady Alessa. “She is my partner and shares her wisdom in our counsel. We may speak freely before her.”

Lady Alessa eyed Samir with a frank appraisal, seeming to approve of his rugged masculinity, for she held his hand longer than protocol dictated. Brynnan sensed his Lord’s amusement mixed with caution. He would not underestimate her.

After a time of discussion, Lady Alessa spoke. “I must retire soon, but may we hear your harpist before I leave?”

Despite private reservations, Brynnan responded without hesitation when Samir agreed to the request. The Bard bowed graciously and asked, “What would you hear, Lady Alessa? I am at your command.”

“Something that is not about war,” she responded, adding, “A love song, if you will. A song to engage the senses.”

Inside, Brynnan felt a strange reluctance to expose Mavrenn to view and wished he had brought a secondary harp, but his obedience to Samir compelled him. Muted gasps of admiration greeted the Bard as he drew Mavrenn from her case.

“I will give you a song about a Lady who meets a lover secretly in a temple in the woods,” he said. “Their passion makes them fearless and bold, and they celebrate the joy of their illicit tryst.”

As Brynnan played, he pondered whether to invoke the Shadow-singing style. Would an enemy detect his powers? Was he endangering his harp? ‘Be subtle yet sweet, my dear Mavrenn. Do not flaunt your voice.’

Nevertheless, Brynnan invoked feelings of helpless joy and passion but restrained the influence’s intensity. He noticed the flush growing on Lady Alessa’s cheeks. Even the gathered Lords and nobles seemed enraptured, and the Bard hoped his playing would encourage peace. He ended the ballad with a gentle phrase trailing off into the night.

Lady Alessa thanked him profusely before announcing that she would retire. When she had left, Brynnan gave the company one more song. Then he felt a mind brushing his, an intrusive mind that sought the core of his music. Reacting, Brynnan sent his shielded thoughts to his Lord.

‘Someone close by seeks my mind. The probe is skillful, and I cannot identify the sender. Have me retire, and I will search.’

Lord Samir responded aloud. “Gentlemen, I hope my Bard has pleased you, but I bid him retire now. There are some points I wish to discuss further before we draw this evening to a close.” The Warlord turned to Geraint. “You may accompany Brynnan and guard him as you usually do.”

Lord Vieri looked as if he would protest, but he settled and merely watched as the Bard and his ‘guard’ left.

In their tent, Brynnan settled on the bed, but Geraint told him, “I know you are planning to send your spirit to reconnoitre. I’m glad our Lord stated that I was to guard you. It lets our possible enemy know that we are prepared. Be very careful tonight, Brynnan: any sign of your body’s distress, and I am bringing you back.”

“I know, my dear friend, and I agree with you. But I want to see what Lady Alessa is up to. My presence will be very light, and I doubt Lord Vieri’s bodyguard will interrupt.”

Geraint sighed as he undressed. “I know this is necessary, but I worry at the chances you take.”

“But you are fearless on the battlefield. You have put your life at risk so many times,” Brynnan responded.

“That’s different. You know it’s my love for you that speaks. Well, let’s do this, and I will guard you zealously. I wonder if we should have involved Azander?”

“Tonight’s task will be delicate enough. Let’s just keep this to you, my Lord and me.”

Geraint submitted to the inevitable and lay beside his friend.

Brynnan readied himself, and shortly, his raven spirit flew into the aether. It appeared directly inside Lady Alessa’s tent, lurking in the shadows.

The Lady herself was undressing with the help of the young man, Eirik, who Brynnan had previously encountered. Eirik was naked, his muscles gleaming in the soft light of an orb.

“Do we have enough time, my Lady?” he asked.

Alessa shed her gown to reveal a pale, slender body that nevertheless showed generously curved hips accented by her narrow waist. “There is nothing to fear, my lover,” she said, kissing the young man. “Even if my Lord enters, you will not be in danger.”

“Are you expecting him?” Eirik said as his hands explored her form.

“Perhaps,” she replied impishly and smiled. “Would it displease you?”

“It depends on his intentions,” he responded.

“Come now, dear Eirik. I know that you share your body with your uncle, Jorge. You are not unfamiliar with the touch of a lustful man.”

“Your spies are well informed, my Lady,” the young man countered, even as he pushed her down on the sumptuous bedding.

Brynnan’s spirit eyes watched as the Lady and Eirik coupled. He knew whom Eirik was now, with his Lady mentioning the uncle, Jorge. They were friends of Col and Andri, the apprentice bard and his Wanderer lover in ArMor-ys, in the Bard’s homeland. Jorge was a retired but still capable assassin. Col and Andri had recounted their mutual adventures to Brynnan after Jorge saved Col’s life. The Bard wondered at Eirik and Jorge’s purpose in their travels with the Senaricans.

But the tent flap rustled at that moment, and a figure entered. Lord Vieri stood over the two lovers and regarded them. “Don’t let me disturb you. Continue, and I will watch, my dear, if your lover can still perform.”

Lady Alessa said, “Welcome, my Lord. I have told Eirik that you might visit. He does not protest too much.”

Eirik tried hard to appear unaffected as he greeted Lord Vieri. The Lord slowly stripped off his clothes until he stood naked, displaying a well-kept, muscular, hairy body with only a slight paunch. His cock, thick and long, stood erect, and he stroked it as he watched Eirik fucking his wife.

“Do not cum inside her,” he commanded. Give her what she desires, but save yourself for me if you can.”

Eirik, on top of the Lady, fucked her briskly until she moaned and muted a scream. It did not take her long to recover, for she pushed Eirik off her, telling him, “Go serve my Lord.”

Eirik seemed to realize his vulnerable position, for he uttered no protest as he knelt before Lord Vieri. His hand grasped the Lord’s cock shaft just below the purplish mushroom head, and he stroked it several times before he took it in his mouth. While he sucked it, he jerked the shaft, feeding the tip deeper, while his other hand kneaded the Lord’s testicles which hung tight and full in the round nut sack.

Vieri loosed Eirik’s ponytail from the leather thong, and the long brown hair spread over his shoulders, allowing the Lord to grasp a handful, pulling the young man’s head tight against his scrotum and cock. Eirik shifted his grip on the shaft, swallowing it to the root. Vieri groaned and fucked Eirik’s face, pumping his hips.

Then he directed Lady Alessa, “Move off the bed, my Lady, and give us room. I’m going to fuck his ass.“

She obliged while Eirik lay on his back as directed. Vieri thrust a pillow under the young man’s hips. He took a bottle of oil that Eirik had used in his lovemaking and slathered it on his cock and Eirik’s, taking time to massage the lubricant on their members. Eirik seemed to enjoy the strong, slow strokes, for he sighed deeply and, opening his legs wider, raised his hips to expose his anal gateway.

“You want it, don’t you?” Vieri said, grinning. “Which do you want more, I wonder? My cock or my wife’s cunt?”

“My service is paid for either way,” Eirik responded. “Seven emeralds, a generous amount, for which I thank you. It deserves my best efforts.”

“Since you put it like that, I want to see you submit to my cock. Take it all the way and show your appreciation.”

“I intend to, my Lord. I crave your cock in my ass.”

Vieri smiled again with a predatory gleam in his eye. His hands roved over Eirik’s body. “You are a handsome brute. All that manual labour keeps you fit, I see.”

Eirik gasped as the Lord thrust his cock deep inside the inviting passage without pausing, but he did not complain.

Watching from the shadows, invisible to most eyes, Brynnan reevaluated Eirik’s motivation. It seemed more than greed for the extravagant sum of jewels: the Bard detected a purpose and a commitment that had nothing to do with lust. ‘I wonder what it is? I must find a reason to speak with him and his uncle.’

Now the Lord actively thrust inside Eirik, pumping vigorously in and out. His balls slapped against the young man as Vieri pinched and pulled at his nipples.

“Make yourself cum, and when you do, don’t cover the head. I want to see everything.”

Eirik obligingly reached down and took hold of his shaft. He beat it briskly in rhythm to Lord Vieri’s fucking.

“Do it now!” Vieri was gasping as he drew close to ejaculation. His eyes devoured Eirik’s cock as the young man jerked his cock faster and cried out. His body spasmed, and his member throbbed as ropes of cum spilled out over his chest, some hitting his face.

“I’m cumming in you, maiala,” Vieri growled, squeezing Eirik’s buttocks and holding him tight as he spilled his load inside the young man’s anal chute. He thrust himself in hard a few more times until his body eased and relaxed.

Withdrawing, he called to his wife, “My dearest, I’ll lick this male animal clean, then you can clean me off.”

The Lady made a faint moue of distaste but waited for her Lord to finish. Meanwhile, Vieri leaned over and lapped up Eirik’s cum from his body, showing intense concentration. He stood and said, “Next time, maiala, you will be licking my cum.”

Eirik said, meekly enough, “Yes, my Lord,” but his eyes smouldered with suppressed fire, and Vieri laughed.

Lord Vieri then summoned Lady Alessa to kneel before him. Her delicate tongue lapped at her husband’s proffered cock, showing no complaint as she sucked it clean. Brynnan sensed Eiriks’s relief that he did not have to perform that task and sympathized.

“You can go now,” Lord Vieri said dismissively. Eirik thanked the Lord and his Lady with well-crafted humility as he swiftly dressed. Then he left the tent.

Lady Alessa smiled a cat’s smile. “You have wanted to do that for a long time. Did he please you?”

“And I will do it again. Your lover seems relatively innocent yet skilled. It must be his trysts with his uncle. I wonder about their relationship. There’s something about the old man I can’t quite fathom. I must have our guard, Adelchis, investigate before we reach Prince Jehanadir’s court. I want nothing to get in the way of our plans.”

Alessa’s eyes narrowed. “Do you think we will succeed, my husband?”

“I have no doubt about it, even though approaching the Prince will be challenging. But come, my dear. Let us turn our attention to other things.”

Brynnan waited a little, but no more information was forthcoming. However, he had learned the name of the bodyguard. His energy depleted, he decided to return to where Geraint waited for him. He was sure the old Warrior would help him recover.

* * *

To be continued . . .

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