To Discover His Truth

Blood Dance

Two weeks into their journey across the high plateau, Brynnan’s party encountered a large band of soldiers. They stopped at a scattering of trees and waited for the armed company to come close.

The soldiers halted. Two men rode at the forefront, an older bearded man and a smooth-faced but competent-looking young man. The older man made a hand motion, sending two riders forward to meet Brynnan’s party.

“Who speaks for you?” one of them called out imperiously.

Nijal and Geraint looked instinctively at Brynnan. During the Warlord Samir’s forays, Brynnan, as Master Bard, had often born the role of spokesperson and ambassador. He did so now.

“I am called Brynnan, Bard of our party, and I speak for my companions. And whom do I address?”

“I am Marin, and my erômenos – my lover, is Durian. We are of the Brotherhood of Deieros. We speak for our Lords Arcturus and his erômenos Asirin. What is your disposition?”

“We are on a peaceable journey of our own and pose you no threat,” said Brynnan

“Indeed, you do not!” The messenger laughed.

“Do you always judge a man by his appearance alone, or do you not leave judgement to your Lords? Make your report!”

Marin frowned before he and his partner returned to the two leaders. There was an exchange of words, and presently the two messengers returned.

“I see two armed men; one with a bandaged sword arm, and two unarmed men,” Marin declared. “A member of our band has lost his partner. We will take the unarmed young one–” he pointed at Andri, “–and in exchange, we will let you pass peacefully.”

At Marin’s words, Andri blanched, and Geraint forcefully stepped in front of him, half-drawing his sword with his left hand.

“If you resist, we will kill the old one, who appears to be his erastḗs– old as he is– and your other armed companion and take both you and the boy.”

Nijal stepped forward and stood beside Brynnan, placing a hand on his shoulder. “He is my erômenos, and I, his erastḗs, will protect him with my life,” Nijal said, with deadly serious intent.

Brynnan abruptly held up an open hand, signalling Geraint and Nijal to stand down. Then he urged Rhiannon forward at a walk, heading towards the leaders of the column. Marin and Duran rode between them and Brynnan, but he merely stopped his horse and pitched his voice so the leaders could hear.

“Leaders of the Band of Deieros! I have heard of you. Your erastai and their erômenoi warriors are known and feared because you would each die to protect your partner and your cause.”

There were some nods of agreement among the assembled force facing them.

“And I have also heard of your sense of honour and nobility, your loyalty and courage! Lords Arcturus and Asirin, where are these qualities of which I speak? I  currently see men who would attack a handful of peaceful travellers to take what they desire.”

The Leader Arcturus spoke for the first time, “Those are bold words, but what you say of our loyalty to each other is true. However, we are short of two in our band and would replenish them. Many who know the joys of male love would consider it an honour to join.”

“By coercion?” the Bard questioned Arcturus, “I think not, Lord.”

Asirin leaned across to his erastḗs and spoke in low tones. Arcturus listened attentively, then turned towards the Bard.

“We propose a contest of sorts. Would you hear it, or do we act?”

Brynnan replied, “By all means, let us have discourse on the matter, but let us not stand here like hagglers in a marketplace, but make camp and enter more fully into the matter, so I also have the chance to assess my companion’s desires.”

Marin, a look of outrage on his face, started to interrupt, but the Leader, Arcturus, silenced him with a gesture.

“The Bard has a point, Marin. Let us make camp and see what can be done – to solve this problem and to maintain our honour.”

While they set up their camp, Andri questioned the others. He looked anxious and stressed. “I think we are in a dangerous situation. Do they really intend to take me? I am bad luck to you all, my friends and teachers.”

“Don’t say such a thing!” responded Geraint sternly. “Don’t forget they also want Brynnan. They outnumber us, unfortunately, but we will do everything in our power to keep you and ourselves safe.”

“But who is this band of soldiers? There must be sixty of them, at least!”

Nijal answered the young singer, “These formidable warriors consist traditionally of an older man and his younger lover. They based the concept on an ancient myth from your before-times. But the concept works.  True lovers will die to protect each other. We cannot take them lightly.”

Geraint added, “Like I would die to protect you, Andri-lad. Such alliances aren’t uncommon in this man’s army; the Deieros Brotherhood is just a more organized lot. They’re a company of one hundred and fifty pairs of men who have pledged themselves to one another. This is only part of their band.  They are part of their City-state’s defence force.”

Brynnan and his friends gathered at the central fire, where the discussion resumed. Arcturus took a direct role now, as Brynnan refused to negotiate further with Marin.

“In acquisitions of this nature, we often propose a contest using combat skills, but your young man’s erastḗs is disadvantaged by his wound,” the Leader noted.

Geraint spoke up, “I can fight with the sword using either hand.“

But Brynnan expressed doubts, “Would you bet Andri’s future on it, or your life? Let us see what else our hosts propose.“

“Rather than a fight, I propose one of you does the Dance of Cuts if you know it,” said Arcturus. “Of course, all the calls in the dance are in our tongue. Your chosen dancer must recognize them, or suffer the cut, or protect himself as best he may. Now, who do you choose?”

Nijal moved to get up, seeking to volunteer, but Brynnan laid a hand on his arm.

“I will do it,” the Bard announced. “It is a sport I am trained in, although the calls were in my native tongue. But I will adapt.” He looked at Arcturus, “What are the stakes? Do we dance to first blood or to the death?”

Arcturus looked at the Bard, considering, “Are you sure you want to volunteer? Some of my men excel at this. It’s what we do to pass our time. “

Arcturus’ erômenos spoke, “Let it be to first blood. As you say, my Lord, we can take this Bard also. Even though he is mature, he is young enough, and his looks stir desire. It would be a pity to win at the price of his death.”

Arcturus nodded, “True, my beloved. Let the younger one be stripped and tied to yonder tree, so my men, and  in particular, Kyros, can see the prize.”

“And if I win?” asked Brynnan.

“Name your wish, and I shall grant it to you.”

Brynnan saw the deadly trap in Arcturus’ offer and sidestepped it. He replied, “What I claim is the freedom for myself and my companions to leave, unharmed, with our horses and gear.”

Arcturus levelled a long look at Brynnan. “You are also a man of cunning,” he grudgingly conceded. “But if you lose, if you suffer first blood in the Dance of Cuts, we shall keep you with us. A partner will choose you, and you will be trained and accorded a place after you have proved yourself to us. The same goes for your youth, Andri. But you alone shall first be chained to yonder tree, and my men shall be able to sample you as part of a selection process.”

Brynnan hushed the exclamations of protest from Geraint and Nijal. Both would have leapt to defend him.

“They outnumber us,” he reminded them. “I have endured worse. Comply with this Lord and live!”

“Wise words from your Bard. You should listen to them!” said Arcturus. He turned to Marin, “Inform the men so that they can clear a space, summon the drummers, and let this man Brynnan be taken and prepared for both his trials.”

When the chosen warriors had accomplished all, two drummers sat at the front of the circle of men. Lighted orbs glowed, augmenting the bright firelight. Brynnan stood in the clearing, stripped to the waist – the better to show up a wound – and he wore his leather wrist braces and the crimson rope harness. He held Nijal’s curved sword. His opponent, similarly stripped, stood near him. He was in his prime, clean-shaven, with hair in multiple tight braids that hung past his shoulders. He, too, clutched a curved sword. He balanced lightly on his feet, moving from one to the other, occasionally spinning the blade or passing it from one hand to the other. His motions contrasted with Brynnan’s stillness that gave nothing away.

Andri looked on from the tree to which the warriors had bound him. He tried to emulate Brynnan’s calm but could not help shivering as the cold air touched his body, naked except for his own rope harness

The drummers began a steady but slow rhythm. Asirin, Arcturus’ erômenos, gave the first call to Brynnan’s opponent.

Abruptly he swept the sword down on Brynnan, simultaneously calling the response to the move. Brynnan flashed into motion with the correct reply while calling out his opponent’s next move. And so it went, a back-and-forth, call-and-response dance. Their sword moves demonstrated a fluid grace as the men danced around each other. Soon the play called for leaps and more gymnastic movements. The drum rhythm increased, and the dancers moved faster.

Brynnan’s opponent’s sword would cut him if he failed to respond fast enough or with the wrong move. Again, the drumbeat increased. Sweat drenched both men as their limbs and bodies glistened in the firelight. They each breathed more rapidly. Now the dance involved spins, rolls, and backflips to avoid the others’ strokes. Brynnan executed one such roll in response to his opponent’s call, and in the recovery, he called and swept his sword in a two-handed slash. The other dancer was a fraction too late in responding. A red line appeared across the flesh of his chest, and an uproar broke out.

Simultaneously, the spotters overseeing the dance called a halt. But the opposing dancer called a move and thrust towards the Bard. Brynnan stepped back in time, just barely out of reach, and lowered his blade.

Then he became aware of a sensation of wetness on his side. He felt the spot and his fingers came away with blood on them. He knew it was not from a sword cut but from the roll he had performed right before he drew blood on his opponent. Brynnan realized there must have been a sharp stone on the ground.

The spotters talked with Arcturus. The Leader stood and raised his arms to quiet the noise.

He made the announcement. “I proclaim that the stranger, Brynnan, has suffered first blood in this dance and therefore forfeits himself. We also claim the young man, Andri, to be given to the care of Kyros to be his erômenos. The others may go free.”

His men cheered, but Nijal stood up, ready to fight, and Geraint started to draw his sword. Arcturus’s warriors were prepared for that and ringed the two men with their blades drawn.

Brynnan called out to Arcturus and asked to be heard. The Leader allowed it.

“Men of the Brotherhood, where is your honour? In declaring this dance would end in First Blood and not specifying it must be from a sword cut, you have violated the spirit of the Dance. Lord Arcturus, will you allow this travesty to stand? Did you not see it was your man that I cut first?”

Arcturus paused before replying. He seemed to be wrestling with the dilemma.  “Very well,” he finally said, “I will concede, but only to a degree. I will let Andri return to the care of his erastḗs.”

After saying this, he told his men to free Andri, and they swiftly obeyed.

The soldiers guarding Geraint stepped back, allowing him to go forward, where he gathered Andri in his arms and wrapped the wind silk cloak about his body.

Arcturus continued, “However, first blood was on you. I will let you and your companions go, but only after you pay the agreed-upon penalty: you will be tied in the youth’s place, and we will fuck you anally or through the thighs, as my men desire. You have been prepared, and so it shall be done.”

“One question, Arcturus!” Brynnan called to him.

“What is it?”

“I see so many of your warriors. Do you plan on fucking me to death? “

“Only erastoi, the dominant ones, will fuck you.”

“I have a counter proposition: since the Brotherhood did not respect the spirit of the game, and called out first blood falsely, then I invoke your gods to witness: let this 'penalty' be to ‘first blood’ too.”

Asirin, Arcturus’ erômenos, surprisingly lent his support to Brynnan’s proposal, and Arcturus agreed.

Two warriors stripped Brynnan’s remaining clothing from him. They left the harness on the Bard. They tied his wrists together and threw the free end of the rope over a branch, raising his arms above his head.

The Leader Arcturus was the first to use the Bard. Standing before him, the Leader performed the erastḗs’ ritual gesture of possession: placing his left hand on Brynnan’s forehead, he reached and stroked the Bard’s cock with his right hand.

He then ran his hands over Brynnan’s body, caressing the hair on his chest and pubes and squeezing his muscles, still pumped after the exertions of the dance.

Brynnan reflected he was in the perfect position to lash out with a high kick, as he had once done to a torturer, almost crushing the man’s throat, but putting up a fight now would bring more harm.

The man sucked his nipples, then played with Brynnan’s testicles and cock, which grew hard.

“You are nicely shaped. Your cock would grace any partnership,” Arcturus murmured.

Then standing behind Brynnan, he pushed his hard cock between his victim’s thighs and fingered his anus. Asirin, who stood close by his lover, handed him a bottle of lube. Brynnan was disappointed: a dry fuck would have been painful but also might have torn him, producing blood which would end the rape. But feeling it on the coated fingers of the Leader, Brynnan relaxed his rectal muscles in preparation for what was coming.

Arcturus’ cock invaded the Bard’s ass. It was substantial, and Brynnan felt the tight shove, the friction, some pain. He allowed himself to feel arousal. The cock in his ass was rapidly thrust in and out, and Brynnan felt Arcturus’s excitement and knew he was about to cum. The Leader cried out as his orgasm took him, and hot semen flooded the Bard’s ass. He had been well-fucked.

Men took him one after the other. Brynnan experienced a whole range of cock sizes, textures, and shapes. Some of the larger ones could have been painful, but the multiple penetrations stretched Bard’s rectal passage, and besides, his heart’s love, the Warlord Samir, had trained him to accept his massive penis and Geraint frequently fucked him with his big and girthy cock.

Brynnan was acutely aware of his exposure to the gazes of the watching warriors. They sat on the ground, man, and younger lover, watching his rape. Some regarded the action with lust in their eyes; one or two even seemed to express compassion.

Some of his abusers used sheaths on their cocks, and others rode bareback. They fucked him in order of their rank and status. Brynnan felt his ass become sore from the repeated rubbing. Then he heard his current user curse. “There is blood,” he said.

“Finish yourself and him – use your erômenos – and then cease,” commanded Arcturus.

“The warrior fucked him harder. His lover, a young man with long, light brown multiple braids and a face that was almost too pretty, knelt before the bard and sucked his cock. He was very skilled. Brynnan felt his excitement building, edging towards an orgasmic culmination. He came into the young man’s mouth, and as his body jerked, he could feel the youth’s throat muscles working as he swallowed. The warrior fucking him ejaculated at that time, withdrawing to stroke himself into a final finish. Brynnan sagged on the rope, allowing his body to rest.

Arcturus had one final twist in store: “You are free when you can unbind yourself from the rope. Surely that will be a small feat to one so skilled in the dance.”

Brynnan did not bother to reply. He jumped and seized the rope with his bound hands, pulling himself up until his face was level with the knotted binding. He undid the knot with his teeth while supporting his entire body weight with his bent arms and hands. The rope began to unwind, and Brynnan further unwrapped the coils. Then he dropped lightly to the ground and levelled a stare at Arcturus.

“Well done,” conceded Arcturus. “You are free.”

“And our companions and our horses and gear?”

“Free, as we negotiated. But do not be afraid to stay until dawn. We will not harm you now. Indeed, we will share our food with you.”

Brynnan bowed briefly, “We will continue to accept your hospitality, Lord Arcturus.”

Geraint and Nijal came to him then. Their expressions were grim.

“It is bitter medicine to accept more of their ‘hospitality,’ as you put it,” Geraint said. “Let’s get you washed up and cleaned. There is blood and cum running down your legs. Are you hurt? How do you feel?”

“Don’t worry about me, Geraint. Grandmother Eleni and your lessons are staying with me. Together, Andri and I will face this demon, or these demons, too.”

“Do you know fifteen men took you? Thank the Mother-of-All you got Arcturus to agree to your conditions,” said Nijal, “It could have been much worse.”

Back at their tent, Geraint took the bucket and squeeze bottles into the woods with Brynnan. They stopped, and Geraint fetched water from the nearby spring and proceeded to attend to his charge. When they finished, they returned to the camp, and Brynnan dressed.

After they had eaten, Nijal took Brynnan aside. He held something clasped in his hand. “Look at this,” he said.

Taking the object from him, Brynnan saw a chunk of blue stone with a glasslike texture. The edges were very sharp. Blood stained it.

“I found this on the dance ground afterwards. I think someone deliberately cast it there when you went into that rolling move, but I can’t prove it at this time.”

“I will keep it for now. And I have a plan before we leave these warriors. I will also write a taunt song about their honour when we travel again. As you know, those songs get around.”

“Be careful! In a future encounter, we don’t need their further hostility.”

Back at the fire, Brynnan asked Arcturus to allow his men to tell tales of the bravery of their comrades. The Leader was unable to resist this, so he agreed. Inevitably, any story of extraordinary courage and bravery quite often involves the death of the hero. So Brynnan and his companions listened as various warriors told their tales. Kyros’s account of how he lost his young lover was particularly heartrending. Andri, seated close between Brynnan and Geraint, shivered. “That is the one to whom I would have belonged if not for you,” he told the Bard.

Finally, one of the men made the suggestion for which Brynnan had been waiting.

“But my brothers, we do have a bard among us tonight. Let us see if his songs are as good as his sword-dancing skills.

“Lord,” he said to Arcturus, “may we request a song from this man?”

“Bard Brynnan? If you don’t hold too much against us, we would hear from you,” said the Leader.

Brynnan bowed and fetched his harp. The assembled warriors fell silent as he uncased Mavrenn. A couple of warriors approached and placed orb lights around the Bard so that Mavrenn’s rich purple wood glowed, and the ruby eyes of the figurehead glittered.

The Bard began a melody whose tone was wistful and haunting. It set the mood. Then he played the song that Geraint so related to: “The Raven and the Warrior,” which dealt with a dying soldier on the battlefield. Tears showed in many men’s eyes.

And finally, now that he had primed their mood, Brynnan gave them the Shadow Song he had composed for his heart’s love, Lord Samir. But it was a song of despair and death, exposing the hopelessness and fear a lone and dying man might feel. The dark theme gripped the listeners. Brynnan had primed them so skillfully the warriors did not realize the effect the current song was having on them was by his design. It echoed their most fearful and loneliest moments. Brynnan finished with a soft harp phrase that echoed into silence.

“I am done, my lords,” he said, “Weariness and pain bid me sleep. Let not your dreams be troubled by painful memories,” he added, knowing that they would not escape the Darkness.

He encased Mavrenn and, having taken his revenge, departed into the tent.

When the others joined him, he could sense the heaviness on them.  Geraint remarked, "It is unlike you to knowingly cause pain to others." 

But Brynnan responded, "I am still human and I have been sore hurt. Forgive me.

He added,  “There; finally, Geraint, you got to hear that song that you once requested, and I refused.  I am sorry you and Andri had to listen but let us all embrace our darkness and not turn away."

“I remember,” said Andri. “I looked to you for courage tonight, and I will not let the monsters pursue me.”

Brynnan reached over and kissed the youth. “Listen, Andri and my dear lovers. Let me quietly sing you a song of strength and hope. In the morning, I may free the Brotherhood with another song, but now let me give it to you, instead.”

And so, very softly, he sang them a Shadow song of peace.