To Discover His Truth

Dancing With The Ghost

The last full day was ending. Darkness fell in the Wanderer’s camp. Outside the wagon’s door, orb lights glowed a soft gold colour. The only other illumination came from the bright fire in the clearing.

Brynnan sat in the firelight talking with Geraint. Andri lay with his head on Geraint’s lap, looking like a lazy and contented cat. Col, his new friend, lay beside him, resting on one elbow, and Rafe sat on Geraint’s far side.

The wagon door opened, and Kyan, Rafe and Col’s father, called to Geraint and Brynnan before he descended the steps to join his sons.

Brynnan entered the wagon and saw Nijal and Eleni. Brynnan was just about to greet them when he noticed something that filled him with shock. Beside Eleni, a black cloak lay folded, a familiar black cloak trimmed with wolf fur. He looked from Eleni’s knowing eyes to Geraint, whose face wore a resolute and set expression.

Brynnan finally found his voice, “Púridaia Eleni, I see that cloak beside you, and I feel as if the ghost is reaching out to me. I feel an icy hand touching me. It is an unclean thing, a marhime, worn by Lady Sarain - a vicious woman now dead by Geraint’s own hand. I know there must be a reason for its presence. Please enlighten me.”

The old woman replied, “Brynnan, you feel these things because you are Mule-vi, one who can speak with the dead. But there is nothing to fear right now. There is no blood on it.”

“But I have no dealings with the dead, only the dying. I lead them into peace, to the door of the Shadow-Realm. But once there, I leave them when I have opened the door. It is forbidden for me as Ruithin to attempt to cross that threshold while still living.”

But Eleni only smiled her wise and knowing smile.

Brynnan turned to Geraint, “Old Warrior, how could you bring this thing with you?”

“I needed a cloak since you had to leave mine behind,” Geraint said simply. “I did not want to wear it in front of you and especially my Andri. It might have upset you both.”

“That’s the understatement of the seasons,” Brynnan muttered, “But what are you both planning to do? Surely you are not swapping this thing for your beautiful cloak, Púridaia Eleni?”

“No, mo čhavo, my son.”

“We want you to wear the cloak,” Nijal said.

Brynnan gave an involuntary shudder, “And I suppose you both have a good reason I should do this? A really good reason?”

Nijal interjected, “You remember when you begged me to remove the metal collar you were wearing after you escaped from the Keep, and that you wanted no more collars? Now you have an aversion to this cloak. What else will you avoid? If you are going to escape these memories of the past that haunt you–”

“–I must confront them,” Brynnan finished and sighed, “Again, you have the right of it, my friend. I am allowing myself to be controlled by my past.” He turned to Geraint, “My Lord Samir would call it ‘training his hound.’ Would he not?”

“Yes, my lad, he would indeed. You are a strong man and a warrior inside. You persevere. Show me that strength again!”

“And Andri, what of his reactions to this?”

Nijal replied, “You are someone he aspires to be. He looks up to you. Do not teach him fear! In time, you can discard the cloak when it no longer reminds you of its earlier owner. You can lend your wind silk cloak to Geraint for now. We can obtain another for him on our journey.”

Eleni added, “Mule-vi, many things haunt you. It would be best if you learned to dance with your mulani, your ghosts. Embrace the things that put fear into you.”

Brynnan shared a long look with the old woman, who watched him with discerning bird-bright eyes: prophetess, seer and wise one, a healer in her own way.

“I will take the cloak, then, and seek out Andri,” he said.

*  *  *

Andri sat at the fire with Col. They held hands as they talked with Rafe and Kyan. When Brynnan walked into the circle of firelight, Andri turned to him, looking peaceful and happy. Then he caught sight of the cloak. His look turned to puzzlement, then slow realization as it dawned on him whose cloak the Bard was wearing. Then his face changed to show fear and disbelief. He dropped Col’s hand and slowly stood up.

“No . . .” he whispered. He shook his head in denial, “But she is dead. Tell me she is dead!”

Brynnan stepped towards him, but Andri shied back.

“Lady Sarain is dead; she cannot hurt us anymore unless we let her,” Brynnan reassured him, “And this is only a cloak: just a piece of leather, cloth, and fur. Geraint brought it because he was cold. Grandmother Eleni has cleaned it.”

“Then why do you wear it, Brynnan?”

The Bard did not answer directly. Instead, he reached out, taking Andri’s hand.

“Come with me and find out.”

Carrying a green orb for light, Brynnan led him to the area in the forest where he and Nijal had twice made love. It seemed a significant, almost holy place and not somewhere to invite evil spirits. But that was the point.

Andri leaned against the twisted white pine tree where it clung to the rocks above the waterfall and watched the Bard, who took off the thick mantle and laid it face down on the needle-covered ground. He sat on the cloak and patted a spot, inviting Andri to sit opposite him, and the youth complied, moving cautiously. Brynnan reached over and took both of the young singer’s hands in his own.

“I had dreams as a child when terror would stalk me, and I would want to run from the menace behind me,” he began, “In these dreams, I taught myself to turn around and embrace the monster following me, thus breaking its power. I realize now that I have instinctively always known the answer to facing monsters, angry ghosts and demons.”

“And this cloak is our demon?”

“One of them. At the moment, it’s the main one.”

“So, how do we take away the power this monster has?” Andri shuddered in the Bard’s grip.

“Andri. Will you follow where I lead?”

“Yes, Master.”

“No ‘Master’ tonight. Only ‘lover.’”

They had not connected sexually with each other since their time in captivity together under Lord Artagan and Lady Sarain. But when Brynnan took Andri by the shoulders and kissed him on the mouth, it seemed as if crackling energy flowed between them. The Bard felt sexual excitement mixed with relief that Andri was responding. He deepened the kiss, and their tongues intertwined. Their kisses continued, until by mutual consent, they stripped off their clothing.

Andri saw the re-tied harness of triple knots that Nijal had done and touched it in wonder.

“One day, the lover-of-your-heart will tie such on you,” Brynnan said softly.

They lay together in the orb’s soft green light, covering themselves with the blanket Andri wore as a cloak.

“This afternoon, I cleaned myself for Geraint,” Andri offered.

Brynnan smiled, “So you want a loving fuck in your ass?”

“Yes. Let’s chase some monsters away.”

Brynnan felt a surge of love for his brave young protégé. He enfolded Andri in his arms and hugged him tightly. Then he kissed and licked the smooth young body that writhed under his touch. Andri responded by stroking the Bard’s body, squeezing and fingering Brynnan’s genitals and ass. The Bard felt his cock growing stiff, and he pressed his body tightly to the young singer’s, rubbing their cocks together and revelling in their hardness. Then Brynnan rolled Andri on his side, facing away from him. He used the boy’s pre-cum to lube his ass and gently pushed his cock inside, pausing when he had to. Above all, he did not want to remind Andri of Lord Artagan’s painful assaults, in which Brynnan had been forced to participate.

So this time, he was gentle yet still penetrated his young lover deeply. He put his arm around the lithe body, playing with nipples and cock. Thoughts of his demon flowed away from him, wholly absorbed as he was in fucking the boy.

They took their time, but eventually, their mutual desire caught up to them, and they ejaculated; first Andri, cumming in Brynnan’s hand, and then the Bard himself. His young lover rolled over to face him, and they rested together, kissing and whispering.

A whistle sounded in the forest. Andri sat upright, not alarmed, but as an eager hunting hound.

“It’s Col!” He said, “May I call him?”

Brynnan gave permission, and Andri whistled back. Presently, a golden light glowed, and three people appeared from the trees: Col, Geraint and Rafe.

“Has the whole tribe come to us?” the Bard asked in mock dismay.

“We came to join you,” said Geraint, “Since we leave in the morning, I thought we could say our goodbyes here.”

“Away from our dad,” put in Col.

“I am sure he knows,” said Rafe, “and our Púridaia Eleni.”

Geraint and Brynnan exchanged glances. Brynnan suspected that the old Warrior’s appearance was due to a desire to check on him, to see if he had succumbed to his ghosts, but, tactfully, he had brought Col and his older brother with him to obscure that fact.

“Then shed your clothes and join us. We will warm each other,” Brynnan invited them.

“Seeing as how you have worn my pupil out, he can serve his friend, and I’ll suck his brother, as I did once before. You can help us both,” directed Geraint.

“Yes, my Keeper!” Brynnan answered him with a low laugh.

Col lay down, and Rafe was about to do the same when he fully noticed the crimson rope harness on the Bard’s body. He started back.

“Mulengi dori!” he gasped.

“Not so!” Brynnan quickly silenced him, “There are no dead spirits involved here. This harness is the mark of my heart’s love, a powerful Warlord who is sadly unable to travel with us. These bonds tie our two souls as one. Look closer, Rafe; these knots symbolize life, not death.”

“My heartfelt regrets for disturbing you,” said Rafe contritely. “Can I make it up to you? Would you desire me to pleasure you as Andri does to my brother?”

“Just come lie beside me, and stop fretting,” Col interrupted.

Col hadn’t waited. He happily submitted to Andri’s ministrations as the young singer sucked Col’s dusky cock. Geraint also lay down as Rafe stretched out beside his brother, and the old Warrior, with a connoisseur’s eye, paused to admire Rafe before starting to suck him too.

Rafe had a wiry, muscular frame and dusky skin enhanced by black body hair. Gold plugs adorned his ears. Shoulder-length curly black hair tied back with a leather thong, liquid dark eyes set in a lean, handsome face and a stubble beard completed his look. Col was a younger, beardless version of his brother, and both resembled their father. Geraint approved of their smooth, shapely cocks.

Andri and Geraint paused in their tasks to kiss each other, “Thank you, Master Geraint, for thinking of us,” Andri told him. “I love you,” he added impulsively before turning back to Col.

Brynnan was glad to see that Andri appeared totally oblivious to the black cloak on which he lay.

Both Col and his brother ejaculated within a short time of one another, with Rafe cumming last due to Geraint’s remarkable skill and Rafe’s own experience at prolonging his sexual response. After they climaxed, the brothers kissed their respective partners, and then they kissed and shared a warm embrace with each other. Col said something in his own language to his brother, and both Rafe and Brynnan laughed.

Rafe grinned at Geraint and said, “My brother thinks we should now turn into helpful, kind people, ready and willing to help any strangers who come along. May all strangers reward our help as you have and become our close friends.”

“Aye,” sighed Geraint, wistfully, “If only the world worked that way. But,” he reflected philosophically, “if it did, I would be out of work.”

“True, Uštari: Warrior. But let us not forget the Bard, who is the central knot in this weave. Come, Col, let us show him gratitude for this night.”

“Lie back against me, Brynnan, lad,” said Geraint, putting his arm around the Bard’s shoulders.

So Col and Rafe started by stroking the Bard’s genitals. Rafe sucked his cock while Col licked his balls, then they took turns. Brynnan quickly became hard again. Then Rafe grasped it at the root, holding it steady. He sucked the dripping glans, then offered it to his brother to do the same.

When Brynnan reached ejaculation, he cried out and gripped each lover by the hair.

“You are both magnificent!” he told the brothers when he could breathe normally again.

“It is Geraint who taught me. Rafe is practised but has been without a lover since the last Winter Gathering,” said Col.

“And will wait for another. Don’t get any ideas about you and me, little brother. This night is a special gathering to honour friends.”

Brynnan looked up at the night sky. It was becoming lighter in the East. “Dawn will come soon,” he remarked, “Shall we return and try to get at least a little sleep before then?”

Reluctantly, they dressed and followed the track through the forest. Geraint noted that Brynnan had picked up the well-used black cloak and casually thrown it over his shoulders with little regard. It was a novel way to exorcise ghosts, and both the Bard and Geraint’s young lover, Andri, seemed to have benefited from his plan. As he walked under the dawning sky, it appeared that the long night was finally turning.