To Discover His Truth

Yrys

Andri entered King Cyndyllan’s chambers in the mountain citadel of Yrys. A page had escorted him there, announced his presence to the King, and left. Cyndyllan was seated in a spacious room with his Queen, Aerfen, a Chieftain in her own right. Andri saw her dark red hair, fierce winged brows, and a red mouth. Although she looked nothing like the deceased Lady Sarain, whose slave he had been, her dark red hair reminded him, and he froze for a moment. But the lady was astute and caught the look.

“Come, young bard; I am not a ghost that walks over your cairn. What ails you?”

Andri struggled to recover his poise, but he gave the lady the truth. “I was once the captive of a red-haired Queen. It but momentarily brought a memory. I meant no disrespect to your noble self, my Lady Aerfen. I have faced that fear long ago now.”

Cyndyllan responded, “Ah, the rulers of Redmark. The Guardian, Nijal, spoke of them. I understand your concern but be at ease here. My lady wishes to hear you sing. Know you any plainsong chants?”

Andri bowed formally, “Yes, my Lord. My Master, Brynnan, has taught me several in this tongue that he has had me learn.”

“You speak it well, young man,” said Aerfen,

So Andri sang the chants of ‘The Stone Dance’ and ‘Crag of Angels.’ The chamber had a natural echo as it was of stone and high-ceilinged. His deep voice, startling in such a youth, solemnly evoked the long column of standing stones that lined a path to a mountain top and a stone circle that weathered the passage of time. ‘Crag of Angels’ was less solemn and more uplifting and spoke of a mountain pass guarded by angels on the heights that protected warriors sworn to defend the country.

After finishing, Aerfen praised him, saying, “Your training does you credit. Do you know that the Crag of Angels is near the ArMor-ys Redoubt? Maybe one day you will see it.”

After some further conversation, the Queen left, bestowing on Andri a kindly smile. “Don’t let my husband use you too hard,” she said, making the young singer wonder.

Cyndyllan had Andri sit on a low, padded bench at his feet.

“So, you set off alone to follow your Masters, of whom you have two, I understand.”

“Yes, Lord. I felt bereft at being left behind. I was disobedient and got myself in trouble. After I was rescued, I was punished for my actions.” Andri glanced at the carpeted floor. He was reluctant to admit his failings, but Brynnan had instructed him to be honest with the Chieftain-King.

“But you were forgiven after that, and continued training with Brynnan  and the Warrior Geraint, a soldier of many skills, I understand.”

“It has come to be that I love both my Masters and Nijal. With my body as well as my heart.”

“You are Brynnan’s bardic apprentice, but in what does Geraint train you?”

Andri blushed and said, “He trains me in the sexual arts between men. He’s very skilled. But he also mentors me in the arts of self-defence, discernment and judgement of situations, how to comport myself with honour, and to respect my elders who are wiser than I am.”

“All that as well as your bardic skills? And how do you judge the situation you are in now, young singer?”

“I hope I have pleased you with my voice, but I think you wish me to please you in other, physical ways. Forgive me, Lord.”

“No, young man, you are correct. I do desire you. I asked your Masters if you would serve me, and they gave their consent. Now, do I have yours?”

Andri looked boldly into the King’s eyes. “Yes, my Lord.”

“And what do you wish to do first?” Cyndyllan was smiling now.

“Please allow me to suck you.”

Cyndyllan nodded assent. He sat back in the wide, carved chair, opening his legs and unbuckled the broad leather belt at his waist.

The King was handsomely endowed with a cock that was thick rather than overly long. The black hair at the cock’s base was trimmed close, and his genitals had the scent of herbal soap. His care spoke to Andri of a self-regard that did him credit. Andri bent to lick the cock and inhaled its manly but fresh scent. The young singer then licked the Lord’s testicles which swelled under his tongue, even as the sac tightened. He moved to the head. Taking the shaft in hand, he sucked the cock, managing to swallow most of it deeply. Its taste intoxicated him, and he moved his mouth up and down it. He was thoroughly absorbed in his task as the King caressed Andri’s streaked, blond hair. Geraint kept its length trimmed, but it was long on top, flopping over the flesh he sucked.

“You’re very good, Andri,” the King said, “You may do it harder.”

Andri increased the pace and the force; soon, the Chieftain was shoving his cock into the youth’s mouth, getting ready to cum.

Andri sucked until the King bucked and ejaculated into the boy’s throat. Andri swallowed, then very gently licked off the remaining cum.

They spent some time after in light conversation. Then Cyndyllan took Andri’s hand and said, ”You have pleased me. It’s been long since I enjoyed the talents of another male. Ask of me a gift, within reason, and it is yours.”

Andri had been too well taught by Brynnan to crassly refuse a gift when offered. He was also careful not to ask for an object of value lest it be construed as asking for payment. He thought of what Brynnan might say and then replied, “Thank you, my Chieftain. I would wish for your friendship; that if I am allowed to stay at your court at some time, you will welcome me.”

“That is well-done, young man,” said the King, pleased at Andri’s modesty. “You will be welcomed if you are free to come in future.”

Cyndyllan sent a page to fetch Geraint to his chambers. When the old Warrior arrived, he waited for the King to speak first. “Your young pupil does you credit; he is courteous, discrete and talented in both voice and in the training he has received from you,” he told the old Warrior. Cyndyllan was generous of his praise of Andri, without being over-effusive, but Andri could tell that Geraint was pleased.

The two men looked at each other, and an unspoken message seemed to pass between them. Geraint took Andri by the shoulder and said to him, “If it pleases the Lord Cyndyllan, let his page escort you back to our chambers. Nijal is there, but Brynnan meets with Cedwyr, his Ruithin brother. I will be with you soon, but now the King and I have things to talk about. Go in peace.” Then Geraint took Andri’s face in his hands and kissed him in the King’s presence, which for some reason made Andri feel proud.

*    *    *

Brynnan entered Geraint’s chamber, where he found Nijal and Andri. He still feared for the lad, but the fear was dark and unspecified.

He put his hands on Andri’s shoulders, looking into his eyes. “So, you survived the encounter.”

Andri was surprised. “The King was very gracious.”

“When we arrive at ArMor-ys, be very circumspect. Do not act independently, and take your cues from us. The Ruithin College is another place entirely-not like Yrys, and the Grand Master is not like Cyndyllan.”

Before Andri could react, Geraint entered the room. Nijal greeted him. “Did you learn anything from the King?”

“I learned what he likes,” said Geraint with an air of satisfaction. “He is quite the man.” He saw Brynnan’s dark expression and continued, “We did share in one another’s bodies—he’s a virile man, but we also discussed m’Lord Samir in detail. He wished to know what m’Lord would do when we returned, and if there were grounds for a future alliance between ArMor and Torrent Mountain to confront the Invaders. I did not discuss you, Brynnan; that is not my place, but I did tell him how I have been my Lord’s man for many years.”

“May the Mother-of-All bring them together in peace,” Brynnan responded fervently.

“One other thing,” continued Geraint,  “He’s offered us an escort all the way to your Ruithin Redoubt if we wish it.”

“We should leave tomorrow,” Brynnan announced. “I have spoken with my Ruithin brother, Cedwyr, who informs me that a messenger arrived today from Yrys. The Grand Master is ill. It’s imperative that I speak to him if he is able, before . . . before anything happens to him. As for Cyndyllan’s escort, I would prefer not to have one, but if we do, it could be to the foot of the mountain trail, then we could go on alone. We would likely be met by people from The Redoubt in any case.”

“And now, and I must speak to Cyndyllan again after this latest news from ArMor-Ys, and there are others I must call on, not least of all is the Queen Aerfen. She is a warrior woman and commands the women of the Northern battle group. Her aid will be significant.”

“Then we will meet at the feasting hall tonight,” spoke Nijal. I will see about preparations for tomorrow’s departure.”

*    *    *

Late that evening, the four companions gathered in Brynnan’s chamber to make love. The journey to the Ruithin Redoubt would take four days, and their opportunities for lovemaking would be limited. The Bard encouraged Geraint to take his ass, but there was much mutual sucking and fucking. Under the loving ministrations of his friends, Brynnan’s mood lightened. During the night, his dreams were untroubled: he roamed in a mountain meadow with his Ruithin friends as a young boy. They were watched by the King of the Shadow Realm, whom Brynnan knew to be his father, and the Bard felt protected.

*   *   *

The following morning, the four friends gathered outside with their horses and weapons, dressed in their accustomed warm clothing.

They said farewell to their hosts. Cedwyr returned the cylinder to Brynnan and gave letters for his bardic brothers at the Redoubt.

Cedwyr had a final word for Geraint and Brynnan. “The King has assured your apprentice, Andri, of his future friendship. If he were to visit us in some distant time, I would take him under my wing.”

Brynnan replied, “You have been kindness itself, my brother.”

The party set off into the clear morning, accompanied by a troop of Queen Aerfel’s female warriors. Geraint took their escort in good grace, exclaiming that he was looking forward to learning some new tricks of swordplay.

Whether due to the escorts’ formidable appearance or because the roads were peaceful, their journey to the foot of the mountains was without significant events, and the days passed quickly. No delays troubled them, and the companions prepared to leave the warriors and travel the forested mountain path on the fourth morning.

Geraint took leave of Catrin Cryf, the troop’s leader, a muscled woman of middle age and braided black hair.

“I thank you for our swordplay. You are a truly devious and cunning fighter,” Geraint said.

Catrin laughed. “When we match swords again, if I best you, I will take you to my bed.”

“My sword against your bow and quiver? I will take you up on that.”

They leaned forward from their horses and clasped wrists in comradely fashion.

As the company was about to depart, a voice from the forest hailed them. Six men approached dressed in white coats with dark green marks, mounted on black horses. They blended in with the forest making them difficult to discern.

Catrin raised a hand with fist clenched, and her warriors came immediately to attention, but Brynnan hailed the new party. He turned to Catrin.

“They are our Ruithin brothers. Let me approach them.”

He rode up to the rider at the forefront, who raised his hand in the sign for ‘peace.’

“I am Hebog. You are Brynnan Marec Mavrenn. We received word early this morning and have been sent to welcome you and your party.”

“I am indeed Brynnan, Servant of Mavrenn. My three friends accompany me. The guard with me is returning to Yrys, to the Chieftain Cyndyllan’s hall.”

“Your welcome will be assured. It has been overlong since you graced our halls. You may not recall me, Brynnan, but we knew each other as children—”

“—in the high meadow near the Crag of the Angels.” Brynnan thought back to his dream of the previous night. If it was an omen, it was a hopeful one.

Hebog smiled at Brynnan. “I do remember.”

When Brynnan returned to the warrior guard, he assured them of the newcomers’ intent and purpose. Relieved, Catrin Cryf stood down her troop. She clasped hands with Brynnan, Andri and Nijal and winked at Geraint. Then she called a command to her band of warriors and turned away.

The four companions also turned and entered the forest path that would lead them to the Ruithin College. Two of the Ruithin guards rode ahead, two behind and one on each side of the group.

Hebog addressed Brynnan, “The Grand Master wishes to speak with you on your arrival.”

“How does he fare?”

Hebog shrugged, “It is hard for me to tell. He is not strong, and some say he hovers near the gates, but I think he will manage to speak to you.”

“Then let us waste no more time than is necessary to pace and rest the horses.”

He looked up at a distant peak that seemed to hover over the forested slopes. The Crag of the Angels, half-hidden, but it signalled their destination. It would not be long now, and Brynnan wondered if the information they sought would finally be revealed.

*    *    *