To Discover His Truth

The Gift

Outside their tent, Brynnan heard anxious voices. He tried to ignore them. His body hurt from the multiple sexual encounters forced on him the previous day and the extreme physical exertion from the Dance of Cuts.

Geraint entered the tent. He looked pityingly at the Bard. Placing a hand on Brynnan’s head, he stroked his hair and said, “Arcturus is calling for you. He seems to think you can help him.”

“So it begins,” said Brynnan and his lips quirked as if at a hidden joke, but there was no humour in his dark eyes.

He dressed and followed Geraint out of the tent. Arcturus was there, with his erômenos Asirin beside him, in converse with Nijal.

“Greetings, Strategos Arcturus, Lord Asirin. How may I serve you this morning?”

“I ask your aid with my men,” The Leader said frankly. “It seems a heaviness has fallen on our spirits.”

“Forgive me, Strategos. I am somewhat to blame for that. After the events of last night, my spirit was in a darker place, and it affected my choice of song. It compounded the pain that many of your warriors felt,” he said.

“But first, Nijal found this on the dance ground. Make of it what you will.”

Brynnan took the blue stone, still stained with blood, from his coat and handed it to the Leader. The man examined it closely.

“You found this after the Dance of Cuts?”

“Yes.”

The Leader’s brows furrowed, perplexity turning to suppressed anger. “Clearly, it does not belong there. He who cast this stone cast his honour away with it.” Arcturus clenched his fist over the offending object. “We shall deal with this,” he added.

“But let me attend to you and your men,” proposed Brynnan. “Gather them here when you are ready, and I shall attempt to light a fire in their hearts once more.”

“We shall do so.” Arcturus looked as if he would say more, but instead, he nodded an acknowledgment to the Bard and turned away with his erômenos at his side.

Nijal came up and squeezed his shoulder, “I am glad you have decided to sing for them. As for the stone, we will see what comes of it.”

So it was that the warriors assembled and heard the Bard’s music. Brynnan, who did nothing by halves, poured his heart into the songs, leading the warriors’ minds from the tragedy of fallen partners through the stages of grief to a love set in stone. He reinforced the feelings with songs of resolve, strength and love rediscovered.

The warriors’ demeanour noticeably changed. Many came to speak with Brynnan afterwards. Two warriors, who had lost their lovers, offered to partner with him. Geraint expressed indignation, but Nijal was merely tolerant.

However, the warrior Kyros was noticeably absent. The Leader, or Strategos, Arcturus had promised Andri to be Kyros’ erômenos before Brynnan had redeemed the young singer. Brynnan learned that Kyros had fallen into despair. Andri and Geraint listened as Asirin, who had brought them the news, explained the circumstances to Brynnan.

When he left, Andri spoke, “Is there not something we can do? I was to be unjustly given to him, but it pains me to know of his condition. He must be feeling double the loss, first of his lover, then of the promise of possessing me. I would not be the cause of any person’s death.” He looked pleadingly at Brynnan and Geraint.

“Ah! You have a soft heart, lad,” replied Geraint, “but you can’t save everyone.”

Brynnan expressed a different opinion, “This is also on me. Come, old Warrior, can we not act in this circumstance?”

“Alright,” Geraint sighed. “You’ve sweet-talked me into it. And here’s me accusing Andri of having a soft heart!”

They sought out Arcturus to ask his permission. “I wonder at you!” he said to the Bard. “You have a great capacity to forgive.”

“Life is too urgent to spend time on recriminations. I have other priorities, Leader,” Brynnan replied.

“I have been considering the stone you brought me,” Arcturus said, “I made an error in judgement because of it and allowed my men to use you sexually. Now you want to show mercy to one of those men. Brynnan, you would have made some man a fine erômenos. Your erastḗs has mentored you well.”

Brynnan called at the entrance to Kyros’ tent. He expected no reply, so he slipped in quietly, with Geraint and Andri following. Kyros lay face down on his camp bed and did not stir.

“I am Brynnan, whom you fucked last night, and here is Andri and his erastḗs, the warrior Geraint. I know of that darkness you are feeling, Kyros. I hold nothing against you now. Allow us to lighten your burden a little.”

“I can do nothing, and I have nothing left,” Kyros murmured, “I know that I shame my Brothers with my behaviour, but this... this loss seems too much.”

Andri glanced at Geraint with an earnest expression, and his teacher nodded. The youth sat beside Kyros on the bed and laid a supporting hand on his back while Brynnan sang a soft yet powerful Shadow song. Andri joined in, singing a rich, deep counterpoint to the melody as their two voices intertwined. Kyros turned over and faced them. He stared at Andri like a drowning man seeing a floating branch that would save him.

“Sixten was fair-haired, like you, boy, from a northern land,” he told Andri when the song ended. “We were devoted to one another.”

“Kyros, we have a proposition,” said Geraint. “Andri wishes to offer you the comfort of his body for a short while, with my permission, of course. There’s no debt on you. He has not yet learned the ruthlessness necessary for survival, but in this instance, I will indulge him if you take his offer.”

Kyros closed his eyes as if in sudden pain, “How can I turn him down? I taught Sixten to temper ruthlessness with compassion myself, and also it brands a man as too proud if he refuses a fairly-offered gift.”

“Let him start by showing you his oral skills - and I don’t mean his ability to sing - that we’ve taught him; then you can take his ass. Brynnan and I will stay.

“Every morning, our Bard has been ordered to thank me by sucking my cock, and he hasn’t done so today,” explained Geraint.

“That will be acceptable to me,” said Kyros.

“My only conditions are that you sheath your cock when you fuck him and that you don’t get any ideas about keeping him. I am letting him do this against my better judgement, mind, but I have a soft spot for the lad.”

Kyros stood and held up a clenched fist, “I, Kyros, swear that I will follow your conditions and uphold my own honour and that of our Brotherhood.”

“Good.” Geraint nodded decisively.

Andri knelt before Kyros, as the Bard did before Geraint. Brynnan kissed Geraint’s boot, and Andri followed suit. Then the young man lifted his head, looking up into Kyros’ eyes, “You may direct me as you wish, Sir.”

“Undo my belt with your teeth, then unfasten my clothes. Don’t use your hands.”

“Yes, Sir!” Andri complied with graceful ease.

“Kiss my cock, respectfully, now. Good, you can lick my balls....”

Brynnan turned his attention away from Andri and looked to Geraint. He wondered how the old Warrior felt inside, seeing his young protégé sucking a stranger in these extraordinary circumstances. Still, knowing Geraint, Brynnan imagined that the old Warrior was more concerned Andri did not shame him by ineptitude. Geraint had his professional pride, well-deserved, in his sexual teaching skills.

Andri showed his skill to the erastḗs Kyros now. He sucked the man’s cock in long pulls, managing to take most of it in his throat. The excited Kyros, no longer detached and aloof, breathed deeply, uttering the occasional moan.

Meanwhile, Brynnan worked his own magic on Geraint’s thick cock. Dewed with pre-cum, he took it in, and it filled his throat. Brynnan revelled in it. However, there was something fateful about the fact that both he and Andri were once again on their knees, side-by-side, servicing others.

But now Kyros bid Andri cease sucking and wait. They both gazed at Geraint and Brynnan as the Bard guided the old Warrior into an erotically charged ejaculation. Geraint, as was his habit, stroked Brynnan’s hair. The Bard kissed Geraint’s cock with reverence and rested his forehead against his crotch. Geraint bent down and kissed the Bard on the mouth before raising him.

Kyros said, “You both communicate so well. I can see you have had much experience with each other.”

And Brynnan thought, ‘If only you knew...”

“Now, I intend to take your Andri’s ass. Be seated if you will, and wait for us.”

Geraint and Brynnan did so, with the Bard resting his head on Geraint’s broad breast.

Kyros seemed unabashed to have onlookers. He undressed Andri, wonderingly touching the ropes binding the boy’s chest.

“I noticed this last night, and on you also, Brynnan. May I ask its significance?”

“It is a pledge of faith and trust from those we love and are parted from.”

“I wish... “ Kyros began, “Ah, never mind. Let me see what happens here and now.”

Kyros stripped off his clothes. Brynnan now had a close look at this man, who had taken him sexually and would have also taken Andri as a permanent lover. He was maybe a little older than the Bard himself, with black hair styled like that of many of his Brothers: a fall of multiple braids past his shoulders. He had trimmed his beard to a point. A white scar crossed his left cheek. Other scars from battle marked his muscular body. Olive-toned skin and dark, intelligent eyes made him a good-looking man.

Kyros turned and let Andri onto the bed-roll, following him down. Reaching beside the bed and taking a sheath and lubricant, he unrolled the sheath onto his hard and erect cock. Then he poured the silky liquid over it and stroked it thoroughly.

Andri lay face down, legs spread, ass raised and exposed, and his cheek resting on his arms. He trembled slightly. Kyros focussed his full attention on the youth, caressing his pale skin and lean form, kissing his way down from neck to ass. There he paused to give tongue and rim Andri, making the boy moan. He continued down each leg to the foot. As he did that, he stroked his hands all over Andri, who shivered under the unaccustomed touch. Then Kyros knelt above the boy and penetrated his rectum.

Andri made a sound and shifted to make the passage easier. Kyros pushed his cock in full-length and paused to let Andri adjust.

Beside Brynnan, Geraint grunted quietly in approval.

Kyros, acting as erastḗs, began to move in Andri, fucking him competently but not aggressively, and Andri matched his rhythm.

“Forgive me if you wanted me to remain still,” Andri said, “but I am taught to respond to my master Geraint.”

“No, by all means, respond,” replied Kyros, “It’s what I encouraged my erômenos - my Sixten, to do.”

Their fucking became more animated and passionate. Kyros rolled Andri onto his back and pulled one leg over his shoulder. He began to thrust in earnest, holding Andri’s thigh with one hand and stroking the boy’s cock with his other hand.

Andri called out, “Master Geraint, permission to cum!”

“Go ahead as Kyros directs you to, boy!” Geraint responded.

Kyros edged him for a short time while keeping up a brisk stroke. Andri looked in agony as if dying to cum, holding himself back until Kyros would allow it. Finally, the warrior ejaculated and told Andri to cum also. With a cry of pure pleasure, the young singer flooded Kyros’ hand with cum. It spurted up like a fountain under the warrior’s grip. Exhausted, Andri threw his head back and closed his eyes, curved lips parted in abandon. Kyros collapsed over him before rolling to the side and taking Andri in a close embrace.

“Let me but hold him for a while,” the man said to Geraint.

Brynnan felt an unexpected stab of compassion for this warrior who had lost his heart’s love.

“Come, Geraint, let us give them some time alone.”

Geraint followed the Bard out of the tent.

* * *

Nijal packed up their tent and sorted the horse packs. Geraint and Brynnan started to help him when they received another summons from Arcturus. In his tent, the Leader greeted them with no animosity at all. He seemed to want to discuss a broader issue.

“I now gather that you are seasoned travellers with a wealth of experience between you. You are an old Warrior, Geraint and must have seen much combat.”

“True, Strategos Arcturus. My Warlord’s campaigns were far-reaching at times. Nijal here has travelled many of the same routes and more, and Brynnan, our Bard, is from a distant land far from ours.”

“Tell me, do you know of the City-state of Torrent Mountain or the City-state of Hesperon?”

Brynnan spoke, “We know both of them well enough, but if you are asking for military intelligence, Strategos Arcturus, we must know your purpose. We have allegiances to our own places and would not betray them.”

“Plainly spoken, Bard. I do not ask you to betray details to us. But let me recount: we represent half our whole strength. Our brothers stayed behind to replenish our ranks after a fierce battle. But leaders of our City-state have decided to make a pact or treaty with our enemy. They would disband us after years of loyal service.

“We seek to ally our strength with an honourable State. We have heard of Torrent Mountain, its City ruled by a Council of Seven. In particular, its Warlord, one Samir, has the reputation of being a competent and honourable war leader, and we have heard he deals with many invaders from the outside. So we may seek service with them. If we are successful, our healed Brothers will join us.”

Arcturus’ erômenos, Asirus interjected, “Realize now that we have entrusted you with sensitive information about us. You have shown yourself to be men of honour, so we trust this goes no further. Is there any information you can give us?”

Nijal, Geraint and Brynnan looked at each other. They all carefully kept their expressions neutral. Brynnan longed to reveal to Arcturus just what their relationships with Lord Samir were, but of course, that would have been a counterproductive move. He realized that the men of the Brotherhood of Deieros could prove a real asset to Lord Samir and a weapon against the coming Invaders.

Brynnan considered his words and responded, “The Warlord of Torrent Mountain is known to us. He needs such men as yourself. Nijal is a battlefield surgeon and is personally known to Lord Samir. Would you allow him to write a script to inform him that he recommends you? It would not be a closed letter, and you can add your mark to it. At this time, it is the best we can do.” – ‘And the safest for us’- he thought to himself.

Arcturus eagerly agreed. “Here is vellum paper and ink. You may write here in my tent. I will go and check my men and have some food and drink sent.”

When they were alone, they consulted with Nijal about what he should write. “It must be concise,” said Geraint in a low voice. “Brynnan, find us some words that will let m’Lord know we are alive and still free. And it’s best not to mention anything that has happened to you. Leader Arcturus will soon find that out in m’Lord’s own time. Still, I believe they are worth fighting beside – I would not be ashamed to fight shoulder to shoulder with these men.”

Nijal wrote the message incorporating Brynnan’s points and recommending the Brotherhood. He used some coded words that only Samir would know and even managed to include a brief sentence about Redstone Holding:

“Redstone is not a route I would consider, but if you go there, look for my nephew, a little lad called Arton, with hair bright as flame and bring him back safe.”

When he put his mark to the letter - a stylized ram’s head, he added a mark for Brynnan - the triple-circled triskelion, and one for Geraint - a sword crossing a shield. Thus, the Warlord would know that they were still together. On another thought, he added the sign of the Music Conservatory for Andri.

One of the younger warriors came bearing food and even a little wine. Finally, Arcturus and Asirus returned. The Leader read over the letter and added his own words and signature mark below Nijal’s sentences. He seemed to take it at face value, and Brynnan breathed a sigh of relief.

“I have found out about your stone,” Arcturus announced. “I will not give you the Brother’s name but suffice it to say he had a grudge against you. I think you can guess who it might be. He has disgraced us by his conduct. He will have one chance to redeem himself –at the forefront of our next conflict.”

Brynnan replied, “It is a matter over and done. I will put it away from my mind. Things happen, but there are more important considerations.”

“I think it is time we moved on, my Lords, while the day is still light enough for some travel,” Nijal announced.

“But we are still missing my erômenos,’’ said Geraint.

Brynnan looked out of the tent. “Here he comes now.” There was a smile on his face.

Nijal and Geraint came to the tent doorway.

Andri walked towards them with a confident step, escorted by a happier-looking Kyros. As the pair reached the tent, Andri stood resplendent in the dark red cloak of the Brotherhood. In his arms, he carried the horse blanket he had worn.

Kyros addressed Geraint. “I do not claim your erômenos, Warrior and erastḗs of this youth, Andri. This mantle belonged to Sixten. I have sewn up the sword rent. When I find a new partner, he will bring his own cloak. But please accept my gift. It is much warmer than a horse blanket. There are no ghosts attached to it. It is just a cloak, just a piece of good woollen cloth.”

Brynnan, wearing the black cloak trimmed with wolf fur, shrugged it back on his shoulders and briefly embraced Kyros.

“I know,” he replied. “But it is a welcome gift.”