Col and Andri: The Vanna Stallions

The Long Dark

Col opened his eyes. The flush of dawn’s first light illuminated the tent. He became aware that there was a warm body on either side of him, and to his delight, he realized that both his beloved and Brynnan were present. He had been afraid that their friend, son of the Lord of Souls, would have disappeared, but his presence was warm and real.

Brynnan’s eyes were open, and he smiled at Col. “Did you think I would leave you so soon?” he said.

Col rolled on his side and ran his hand down Brynnan’s side. “I feared so. With your strange abilities, I never know how long you will stay. And now you are changing again. Will you not tell me what has happened to you?”

“When Andri awakens, we will talk. But while we wait, there are things we can do.”

“I have to go out and take a piss first,” said Col, grinning. “And I’ll wash my karbaro before I return.”

“Wait up, and I’ll come with you. As my Father tells me, I am now a semi-divine being, but I still need to piss, too. I treasure every bit of my humanity.”

Brynnan said this lightly, but Col still detected sincerity behind the Bard’s words. They caught up their cloaks and left the tent.

When they returned, Andri was awake. “Lačhi či tahrin, ves’tacha!” Col greeted him.

“Good morning to you, too, and you, Brynnan!” Andri’s countenance lit up like sunrise at seeing both men. He held out his arms to them.

Brynnan and Col cast off their cloaks and stood close as Andri rose to his knees. He kissed both their cocks; Coll’s dusky shaft and Brynnan’s pale one. Both men were handsomely endowed, with Col’s perhaps slightly larger as they came erect. Andri then started sucking, alternating between them. He put his arms around their firm buttocks, pulling them close, and his tongue teased and licked. Then Andri swirled it around the head of Brynnan’s cock, probing in the piss-slit and tasting pre-cum that flowed from the opening. When Andri took it in his mouth, he swallowed it all the way, throat muscles working. As he did so, Brynnan took hold of Col’s face, cupping it in both hands and kissing him deeply. When Andri switched to pleasuring Col’s stiff shaft, Col threw his head back, groaning in appreciation as Brynnan sucked his nipples.

But soon, they lay down together, and Andri said hesitantly, “Master, may I fuck you? Do you remember the first time you and Geraint decided to let me do so? The memory has never left me.”

“Indeed, I remember,” Brynnan replied as he rolled on his back. “Geraint chastised us the next morning for our lack of attention to the trail. Then take my ass, Andri. And Col, too, after.”

So Andri lay over the Shadow Lord’s son, gazing into his eyes as he pushed his cock against the anal ring. As Brynnan raised his legs, Andri grasped an ankle, and his cock thrust inside the hot, tight passage. Then Brynnan reached up and laid his palm over the white hand imprint on Andri’s shoulder, where he had been touched by the Shadow Lord. The mark briefly glowed, and a wave of heat enveloped the young bard.

“Life, not Death. Fuck me, my apprentice, my heart’s son,” Brynnan murmured. He opened his mind to his two young friends again, as he had the previous night.

Andri almost sobbed in his desire as he pumped his cock, feeling each stroke like a force of nature.

For Col, it was like entering a beautiful, wild land he longed to travel in. There was a lake, and in its reflection, he saw the image of Brynnan: a soul formed of ripples of rainbow light and blue sparks. The eyes that beheld him glowed like comets. Col stepped into the vision, embracing the being, opening his eyes to the material world again, and he found himself fucking Brynnan as Andri kissed their friend. Their minds swirled together in a kaleidoscope of love, lust and pleasure. He seized Brynnan’s cock as he thrust harder into the rectal passage. When he came, he felt his ecstasy shared with his two lovers—his dear friend, Brynnan, and Andri, his betrothed.

*    *    *

They went down to the river to bathe and swim. Afterwards, they sat on a ledge of rock by the flowing waters in peaceful silence for a time, watching blue dragonflies dart among the reeds until Brynnan spoke.

“My dear ones, you ask why I have not visited you. You know who my father is: the Huntsman, the Lord of Souls—some say the Lord of Death even, and to an extent, that is true. I have inherited many of his powers and carry the burden of responsibilities that sometimes I wish I could escape and be a simple Ruithin bard again.

“Last Summer, Lord Samir, my heart’s love and Warlord of the Torrent Mountain city-state, sent me to Siginak, the haven settlement for those who had invaded us. Now we call them the Sojourners. Among them was a man, a Necromancer whom I had encountered during the Invasion. He was filled with the desire for revenge against my Lord and me. He broke the Balance, capturing men’s souls: a great evil. He wanted my soul. He was powerful, his mind enhanced by a device, and his threat extended beyond this material world. To combat this, I invoked the powers of the Void. I killed myself.”

Andri and Col both froze when they heard this utterance, but they did not doubt the truth of it. Andri reached out wordlessly and took Brynnan’s hand as the Shadow Lord’s son continued.

“My Father, Arawn, kept my body in stasis—it was dead, but the cells did not decay. Meanwhile, my soul manifested before this Necromancer and defeated him. But my Father could not reunite my soul with my body. It took his intervention with Lord Samir to bring me back, and my Lord risked his life to unite my body and soul again. [1]

“But the experience changed me in ways I still find difficult to accept. Invoking the Void, I died, but my soul peered into eternity, and I saw . . .things I can’t describe, yet I understand them. The Void set its hand on me as my Father has with you, Andri. It is always close now, a mere thought away. I could dissolve into it at any time, and I could bring—no, it’s too much to say. I cannot burden your minds with that knowledge.” Brynnan sighed deeply.

“You may have transformed in ways that Col and I don’t understand, but that doesn’t matter to us. What matters is that, at the core, you are Brynnan: our beloved friend.” Andri squeezed the Bard’s hand.

Brynnan bowed his head. “You two are precious to me, like Geraint, my beloved Lord Samir, and Nijal, my Alsar friend, who accept me as I am. You are like shelters in the storm that seems to be my life. Only continue loving me, as I will love you.”

He kissed the two young men and stood. “Now, Col, I must speak to your Grandmother. I have not revealed my presence to others as yet—of course, Geraint knows I’m here with you, but he is giving us our space. But I am in a place where life and children are paramount. Can the son of the Lord of Death be welcome in such a place? I think not, even though I would like to stay with you for the three full days of your celebration.”

Col replied, “The son of the Lord of Death might not be welcome, but Brynnan the Bard is. Talk to my Grandmother and also my father. They know your heart. Bring Mavrenn out in her true form tonight and play for us if Grandmother agrees.”

When the three returned to Col’s family’s camp, they saw Eleni outside by the fire. Keven and Gethen sat with her, and the young groom was cooking breakfast. Keven and his lover looked surprised to see a stranger, but Eleni beckoned Brynnan over. He approached, kneeling down beside her to kiss her cheek.

Col introduced Brynnan briefly to the two other men, but Eleni interrupted, saying, “You will excuse us while Brynnan and I go inside. We need to talk. Keven, serve them the meal when Rafe, Sara and the children come out but don’t wait for the Bard and me.”

Brynnan took her arm to lead her to the steps of the wagon. “And will you prophecy for me, as you did before, or shall we compare our visions, Phuri dai Eleni?” he said.

Eleni looked up at him knowingly. “Who knows what wonders we shall discover?”

*    *    *

Phuri dai Eleni’s stories had magic. The sun was high when people gathered near the river to listen to her. A fire had been made; blankets and cushions laid down nearby. Eleni threaded her way through the circle of extended family and friends, speaking a word here, touching a shoulder there, until she settled by the low fire on a cushion, pulling her shawl about her shoulders.

Andri and Col sat at the front of the gathering of listeners, and Andri, leaning against his beloved, felt privileged to be included.

Eleni was wearing a splendidly embroidered vest over her blue silk dress, gold necklaces and her hair bound in a purple and blue flower-patterned scarf. Her long, white braid hung over one shoulder. Beauty still shone through a face tempered with wisdom and compassion.

She looked over her audience of family and friends, then began to speak.

*    *    *

Eleni’s Tale

“We tell our stories of the past. We give voice to the souls of our people who have gone before. They speak through us; their words exist and still echo.

“I will recount how the Wanderers survived in the Long Dark, that longest of roads that stretch between stars. But to speak of our particular road, I must start with the story of all who left our original home.

“Once, there was a world. We do not know what terrible events took place there, but we know that certain people gathered to pull the remnants of their cultures from the greyness, to save what they could.

“In the space above that world, they built what they called the “Generation Ship,” designed to travel between the stars. It took a lifetime. It was the biggest of all wagons and contained an entire land—forests planted and hillsides created, fields and lakes. A great store existed of plant seeds and the seeds of life: animals and people. A place of eternal Winter kept the sleepers, whose lifetimes extended beyond our count, although they were sometimes awakened.

“Knowledge was also stored: learning, customs, languages, histories . . .too vast for me to tell you of each thing. And this great wagon was aimed into the dark place between suns.

“Through the Long Dark, it was found that the Awakened Ones needed to live their cultures to survive. The mind dies when differences are dissolved—we need our individuality. So the travellers chose specific cultures in their past, relearning the history, legends and stories. As they left their home world behind, successive generations practiced their beliefs with an intensity and focus that kept alive the Old Gods and the Eternal Ones.

“We Wanderers were just one of the many races present, but our courage was like a flame: we knew all about survival. In our old world, we had been a persecuted race, denied our right to exist because we refused to conform to the customs of others. But in the Generation Ship, all people were valued alike. And we did not have to choose a culture: we already had one, remaining true to our embedded patterns. As we travelled this longest road, we lay in frozen sleep, were awakened, and created new stories. Those awakened few roamed the ship-lands, with children born of their bodies to replace them.

“After many lifetimes had passed, we came to this world. We were greeted by the Bari Devlaika, the Great Earth Goddess, this living world’s soul, and she welcomed us. But the ship’s people did a momentous thing and did not realize the harm until it was too late. They changed the land, planting their seeds, recreating forests and the environments of the old world, and releasing the animals that had been raised. Their seeds were potent, taking over from the plants and creatures existing before their arrival.

“We, the People of the Lungo Drom, also share the burden of this guilt. We raised our horses and other animals, which needed the new grass to live, and the forests gave us timber to build our vardos, our wagons. Perhaps there is another land across the oceans where the original life persists, but we do not know of it.

“But a native race existed upon this world before we arrived. The ship people at first destroyed their cities with terrible weapons. But the native peoples, the Alsar, evolved rapidly beyond what humans were capable of, aided by the Bari Devlaika, and struck back. They have great powers of the mind, and their spirits can travel from their bodies—this is hidden knowledge.”

Here, she turned and looked directly at Andri. He understood that she wished his silence on the revelation, but it was no news to him. He had been present with their Alsar friend Nijal, when they had been travelling and had come across a ruined city of Nijal’s ancestors. He put the memories aside and listened to Eleni again as she continued her story.

“The Alsar, in turn, destroyed the ways of war, the advanced weapons. Every endeavour where humans attempted to take from the Mother without giving back was thwarted. Humans could not exist as they had in ages past, dominating everything. So they restructured. People claimed their races again, living by their customs and beliefs, adopting the ancient ways recorded in our archives, but now abandoning advanced devices of war and exploitation and respecting the world. The Bari Devlaika suffers us to live as long as we do not take too much.

“But humans have not escaped their violent tendencies. They could not breed it out of themselves. Even though the other peoples built their City-States and the Great Redoubts—the repositories of knowledge—we still see conflicts today, and the vast Redoubts are used as shelters in times of war.

“But what of our story? The Wanderers stayed apart from warfare, and we kept to ourselves, as we have always done: following our ancient ways, travelling the lands, claiming none. Our customs have changed to fit this world. Many taboos have been discarded. Some of our languages have merged from the many dialects of different tribes to a more common tongue. But we are still Wanderers.

The kumpanias travel afar over this continent. Now the people of our race range from northern lands to south. Our people here are of the Djamba clan—the Horse People. Our beautiful Vanna horses are our treasure. We continue our traditional lifestyle, travelling to new pastures each season in our carved vardos.

“In recent Turns, the Invaders from the stars came, but they ignored us Wanderers. They used advanced weapons on other races, trying to claim the Redoubts. But the Alsar, the guardian race, destroyed their means of force. We were not a part of it: we had no city, no Redoubt that they knew of. We hear that the survivors of these Invaders have made their peace and have been given a place to live now, but we will not engage with them. They are not of us.

“We are an ancient race, old even before the histories of other people in our original world. We follow the way of Kuntari, the Great Wheel, recognizing that all things are alive and that there must be a balance. The Bari Devlaika speaks to us, and now we try to tread lightly on the land.

“That is our tale. Ashen Devlesa—May you remain with God, my people.

*    *    *

Eleni adjusted her shawl, relaxing from the formal pose she had taken. “Today, others will tell stories of our lives, myths, and dreams. This evening there will be more dancing and music, and one will come from afar to play for us.

“Not only do we continue to celebrate the hand-fasting between Col and his Betrothed, Andri, but we will instruct Andri in our customs and knowledge and make of him a proper Wanderer. Andri, Devlesa avilan, it is with God we found you!”

Others in the ring of people cried out in approval, and Andri felt the warmth of acceptance.

Another storyteller came forward, but Col and Andri took a break. As they left the crowd to return to Col’s family’s wagons, he spotted the man who had disagreed with Silvanus’ judgement. “There goes Soli,” Col remarked.

”He is glaring at us. He looks affronted,” Andri replied in a low voice.

“Ignore him. I’m hungry again, and I want to see Geraint. Let’s go find some food.”

“Col, you’re always hungry!”

“I’m a growing boy.”

Andri nudged him, none too gently. “You will be a growing boy after I get my mouth on you later.”

“I love it when you talk dirty to me . . .”

*    *    *

Geraint was on his knees. Aled stood in front of him within the shelter of a green hazel grove. The old Warrior’s mouth was engaged with Aled’s cock. He sucked lustily, slowing on occasion as Aled’s excitement crested, delaying the guard’s climax and deliciously prolonging the act.

Aled breathed deeply. “That’s it, suck me. I want to cum in your mouth.”

Geraint, grasping the cock, withdrew it from his mouth to speak briefly. “You have a choice: either cum in my mouth or fuck me and cum in my ass.” He returned to sucking his new friend.

“That’s unfair: I want both. But if I’m going to fuck you, it had better be now!” Aled groaned.

Geraint dropped his breeches to expose himself and braced his body on hands and knees. Aled wasted no time in crouching over the hairy back and ass. He used his pre-cum as a lubricant on the old Warrior’s rectal opening, pushing his thumb inside.

“Ah, I can’t wait . . .” The guard shoved his cock against the anal ring, and Geraint let him in. Aled paused, savouring the erotic sensations. He instinctively knew when to start thrusting, moving his cock back and forth.

“Stroke yourself, Geraint. I am cumming very soon.”

Geraint jerked his own heavy and thick penis, working his growing excitement. At the same time, his ass muscles milked Aled’s cock, squeezing and releasing, urging him on.

“I’m going to cum now . . .” Aled muttered between clenched teeth. His driving thrusts became sharp and abrupt, and his balls slapped into Geraint’s as his ejaculate surged through his cock.

Geraint, rapidly beating his meat, pushed back against Aled’s loins, feeling the pulses of the man’s ejaculation. His cock spasmed, and he came just as Aled pulled out, spattering cum over the grass. The old Warrior rested briefly on his hands and knees until Aled helped him to stand.

“My knees are stiff,” said Geraint, grinning. “Us old dogs have to be more careful.”

Aled laughed and kissed his mouth, tongue probing deep. “You are a cure for my sorrows, my friend. Just don’t let the young ones see us groaning and holding onto each other!”

“Too late!” said Brynnan, parting the green branches.

“I thank you for holding back until we were finished. Otherwise, you would have had to join us, and you and Aled haven’t yet been introduced,” said Geraint. “Brynnan, I want you to meet Aled, guard of ArMor-ys and our travelling companion. Aled this is—“

“Brynnan Marec Mavrenn,” finished Aled. “I have seen you before, but all at the ArMor-ys Redoubt know of you and your famous harp. The years have been kind to you! You look as young as you did before you left for Torrent Mountain.”

“It’s kind of you to say, but I assure you experiences have aged me, as they do to us all,” Brynnan replied with a courteous bow.

“Have you seen my charges, Andri and Col, who I protect, and my partner Gethen and his friend Keven?”

“Yes, I met them at the family’s campfire.” Brynnan turned to Geraint. “I have spoken to Eleni, and she invited me to join the evening’s celebrations and bring Mavrenn, my harp. But I won’t mix with the others too much.”

Geraint and Brynnan shared a look of understanding.

“You have travelled from the Torrent Mountain Redoubt?” Aled asked.

“Yes, I still serve Samir, the Warlord of that place. And Geraint is still my teacher.”

Aled looked surprised. “Geraint instructs you in the arts of warfare?”

“No,” Geraint interjected. “I instruct him in the arts of love—or fucking, as the case may be. He serves Lord Samir in all things.”

“Geraint . . .” protested Brynnan.

“He might as well know. He and I have become friends. I’m standing in for one whom Aled misses. You and I, Brynnan, both realize the importance of having a friend who knows you.”

Aled smiled and said, “Fear not, Master Bard; our words stay between us. Geraint and I have an understanding.”

They walked back together to the camp. Sara and her family readied themselves at the fire to join the festivities. Kyan was talking to Col, who was munching on a flatbread, and Andri engaged in conversation with Eleni.

Sara clasped the baby, Kamlo. After she had been introduced to Brynnan, she started to hold the child out to him.

“Would you like to take him?” She asked. Then a look of puzzlement came into her eyes, and she hesitated.

Geraint stepped smoothly between them. “I’ll take this little sprog off you, Sara. Brynnan isn’t very practiced with young ‘uns. As for me, however, children love me. I have a way with them,” he boasted.

“You mean when you’re not swinging a sword . . .” Col interjected.

“Haven’t I called you a ‘disrespectful whelp’ before? If I haven’t, pardon my omission,” Geraint said as he showed the child to Brynnan.

Brynnan looked politely, then suddenly, his eyes widened. He sent a thought to Geraint. ‘This child is—‘

Don’t say it out loud!’ Geraint sent back.

Instead, Brynnan said, “You and Rafe are blessed in your children, Sara. May they grow up in the best of Wanderer traditions.”

Sara looked pleased as she took the baby back from Geraint’s surprisingly gentle hold.

*    *    *

The family returned to the storytelling gathering. Andri was eager to hear the tales, adding them to his store of knowledge as a bard. But this time, Col looked less relaxed. There was a slight frown on his face.

“What’s wrong, beloved?” asked Andri quietly.

“Soli has turned up again and is still glaring at us.”

“I thought it didn’t bother you.”

Col replied, “Now my stomach is not distracting me. There is something I don’t like about this.”

“A premonition? Just relax for now and listen with me to the stories. Don’t let Soli spoil our joy.” Andri leaned in and kissed his lover’s cheek.

“I won’t worry. We will take things as they come,” Col replied.

Nevertheless, he remained on guard.

*    *    *

To be continued . . .