Col and Andri: The Vanna Stallions

Shore of the Shadow Land

Col glanced behind him along the trail they had taken, breathing a sigh of relief. They were free from pursuit. After Col and Andri left the camp of the strangers, they travelled for days along the route Jorge had suggested. The party of friends discussed Jorge’s choice to stay with his nephew, Eirik, in Lord Vieri’s company. Still, they finally decided there was no profit in worrying: events would occur without them.

But a new challenge approached: the mountain known as Cadair Annwn, where they had previously encountered King Arawn, Lord of the Shadow Lands, when he had given Andri the mark on his shoulder. Gethen was the first one to give voice to their concerns.

“Dare we camp there again, Col? It’s an ideal spot with the river and the sheltered glade, but you and Andri met the Dread King there. And then we saw him back on the high plains after we left your people’s Gathering. Even though he did not harm us, I’m not ready to meet him again.”

Col considered his response. “He is not bound to place or time, and there is no guarantee that we will see him at that camp. I think we should go. There’s no other suitable place around. Does anyone else object?”

Aled said, “You are our leader, Col. I’d say it’s ultimately your choice.”

“You know I’ll abide by your decision, my husband,” offered Andri, reaching across from his horse to take Col’s hand.

“And what about you, Kev?”

Their groom simply replied. “I’ll go along with it. I don’t think King Arawn would harm us for no reason if he appeared.”

It was decided. By evening, Col’s party had found the clearing beside the river, sheltered by pines and birch trees. The soft evening light lent it a beauty that belied its perilous reputation. As was his job, Keven saw to the horses, and Andri and Aled erected the two tents. Col gathered wood for the campfire, and soon a pot hung over the flames to make chao, the Wanderers’ tea.

The friends ate barley and dried meat stew, flavoured with freshly-gathered mushrooms, and relaxed around the fire. Little disturbed the glade but birdsong and the passing of a curious fox.

Andri looked up from his bowl and remarked, “That reminds me: we are near the trail up the mountain called the Fox’s Path.”

“I hope our little friend isn’t an omen.”

“No one’s planning to go there, lover, so don’t get any ideas,” Andri warned him, softening his comment with a smile.

“I certainly am not planning to go. It would take half the night, and I want to sleep,” Col said, tossing his dark curls out of his eyes. He put his bowl down and retied the thong that held his hair back in a ponytail.

The companions turned in early, with Aled taking the first watch. As he followed Col, Andri noticed Gethen leading Keven by the hand to their tent while whispering in his ear. The young bard smiled, thinking of how the relationship between the younger guard and the groom had developed in closeness. He was sure that soon they would be making love with each other. That turned his thoughts to his husband, and he looked forward to their own intimacy.

Col and Andri’s joining assumed a lazy gentleness that soon turned to passion. They kissed each other for a time before Col lay over his lover, rubbing their pre-cum slicked cocks together. The fires of a lustful passion swept over them, but they maintained that simple bodily contact until they spent their seed, one after the other. Then Andri embraced Col’s back, wrapping an arm about him until he could place a hand on his lover’s chest, feeling the heartbeat beneath.

Andri dreamed. In this dream, he heard the baying of hounds, but he was not afraid. He drifted outside, and even though the moon was in its dark phase, an eldritch light glimmered over the trees and grass. It glowed a pale green colour yet illuminated nothing. Then in his dream, the Dread Huntsman appeared: King Arawn on his grey horse, surrounded by white hounds. He took Andri’s hand and lifted him effortlessly behind him onto his horse’s back. The young bard clung to the King’s grey cloak, and it seemed they drifted up the mountain without touching the ground. Andri felt peaceful in the Lord of Death’s company and wondered if he had died in the night. Near the summit, the Shadow Lord stopped by the shore of an enclosed lake. Peaks surrounded it on three sides, and brilliant stars hung over the tallest one near a thin crescent moon.

Arawn handed him down. As his feet touched the shoreline, the Huntsman, who had said not a word, raised a horn to his lips. The resultant deep tone vibrated through Andri’s body, and the pack hounds bayed a fell chorus in response. The King glanced once at Andri with a grim and secret smile before turning and spurring his horse across the lake with the hounds surrounding him. Halfway across, they simply disappeared.

Andri stepped towards the water, his hand stretched out after the Huntsman, when the cold wetness touched his bare feet. The shock woke him. The scene, however, did not change, and Andri realized that he stood by the lake in truth. He felt an awful sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach and a wave of dizziness and fear. A tide of heat flooded his body.

In his confusion, he did not think to call to Col, to touch his lover’s mind, but staggered against a huge boulder lying on the edge of the lake. He sank down with his back to the stone.

“Why did you bring me here, only to leave me?” he asked the departed King. “There’s nothing . . .”

The night seemed unnaturally quiet except for the faint sounds of the stream which flowed from the lake down the mountain’s slope. But as he sat, he saw deep ripples in a vee shape disturb the lake’s glassy stillness. They died away. A little while later, they appeared again closer to shore. Now a sound filled the air, like a massive waterfall next to Andri, but there was no wind.

The vee-shaped ripples approached rapidly, and a monstrous head broke the surface. It looked like a cross between a horse and a lizard. Its textured snout sprouted tendrils that swept back from the creature’s nose and chin. There were horns on its head. Before Andri could react, it lunged, mouth agape, and bit at his shoulder. He cried out in sudden fear.

Instead of shaking him in its grip, the monster reared its head, hissing like a covered pot on a fire, boiling over. Andri felt a warm wetness on his shoulder, and he glanced down, expecting to see blood, but it was only water. He tried to scramble backwards but realized the boulder was there, preventing him.

The monster came at him again, this time slowly. A long forked tongue emerged from its maw and licked Andri’s shoulder. It did not bite but made a curious sound like the deep thrumming of a low harp string. Then it plunked its head with a thud on the pebbles at Andri’s feet, its long neck stretching out of the lake.

‘How big is it, and why isn’t it attacking me?’ Andri wondered. Then he realized the shoulder it had licked was the one that bore the white handprint: King Arawn’s mark.

‘I wonder . . .’ Reaching out, he tentatively placed a hand on the creature’s snout. He felt wet, cold, silky scales and textured skin beneath his fingers.

‘What in the Dark Spirit’s Names am I doing? I must be crazy, “dinlo,” as Col would say.’

Thinking of his lover’s name broke some spell, and Andri realized he should send a mind call. He dared to close his eyes as he concentrated. ‘Col! Husband! Hear me . . .’

‘Andri, ves’tacha, I hear you. I am already on my way.’

Hearing his lover’s mind voice, Andri sobbed in relief and opened his eyes. The creature was drawing back into the waters. Lambent eyes with slit pupils stared at him; then the head ducked under the lake. Ripples formed in a vee shape and moved away from him. Then Andri saw a colossal back silhouetted against the stars as the creature dove and disappeared from view. The only trace was a circle of expanding ripples which reached the shore in small wavelets, lapping at it before they died away.

‘Wait where you are. Are you safe?’ Col’s mind voice reached Andri again.

‘Perfectly, my husband.’

Andri didn’t know what else to do, so he sang. His deep, baritone voice lifted in a haunting tune as “The Bells of Eternity” rang out. He had to admit that the surrounding mountain peaks provided an excellent acoustic arena for his voice. He silently apologized to the foxes and other wild creatures for disturbing them. At least Col would be able to locate him.

*    *    *

The black and white Vanna stallion emerged from the trees with Col on its back. The young Wanderer slid down and approached Andri, carrying a sack. They did not immediately embrace; Col looked searchingly at his soulmate. When he moved, it was to wrap his arms tightly around Andri.

“You have no clothes on, you know,” Col said. “I saw them in the tent and brought them with me. Better get dressed.”

But Andri shivered, saying, “I’m cold, Col. Warm me.”

Col wrapped his cloak around Andri’s shoulders and pulled him down to the springy grass. He stripped off his coat and vest and opened his shirt, lying over his lover so that his bare skin pressed against Andri’s chest. Then he kissed him.

Their kisses continued, and Col stroked his lover’s face, feeling the planes of the high cheekbones. With a feather-soft touch, he placed his fingers over Andri’s full, curved lips. Andri took them in his mouth and sucked on them. Col ran the fingers of his other hand through the shaggy blond hair that fell over Andri’s forehead. Their need for each other rapidly grew.

Col slipped down his breeches, exposing his erect penis, and Andri stroked the dusky rod.

“Take me, lover,” the young bard whispered.

Col wordlessly complied, rolling on top while Andri raised his hips and knees, opening himself to his partner. His cock flowed with pre-cum, and Col used it to lubricate his stiff shaft. Then, gazing straight into Andri’s eyes, the young Wanderer thrust his hips forward and entered his lover’s rectal passage.

He held himself still, letting Andri feel the rigid member inside him and allowing him time to relax and accept it. The young bard moaned and raised his hips, wordlessly begging Col to fuck him.

“Ves’tacha, let me give it to you now,” Col said, pushing himself in deep. He withdrew slowly until his cock was almost out, then sank it in his lover’s ass again. He repeated this, leaning in to claim Andri’s mouth, pushing his tongue into it.

“Fuck me deeper, my husband. Give me your essence: fill me!” Andri gasped aloud.

“Cum with me, ves’tacha.”

“Stroke my cock . . .”

“I’m stroking it, and I’m fucking you harder . . .”

“Aah! I’m going to cum!”

“That’s it, my heart, cum into my hand—I’m cumming too!”

“It’s too much! I can’t take it; I’m drowning in your love.”

“I won’t let you drown: swim with me. Feel my cum, pumping into your ass. Mmm . . .now!”

They strained into each other, their ejaculations paired like their emotions and hearts. Once again, the young lovers lost themselves in their own world.

Col lay over Andri, satiated, fingers entwined with his lover’s. They rested quietly until Col asked Andri, “Are you warm now?”

Andri smiled. “You know I am. You can feel it.”

“You realize we lay here fucking on King Arawn’s doorstep.”

“The Shadow Lord owes me that. Wait ‘till I tell you what happened!”

Col arose and stripped off his boots and breeches. “Haunted lake or not, I’m going for a wash while you dress. Then you can tell me on our way back.”

They did not linger at that perilous shore but started off down the steep trail, with Andri clinging behind Col on the stallion’s back. The young bard told his lover everything, and Col listened without interrupting.

When Andri ended his story, he said, “You realize we are both subject to the mountain’s curse—or blessing if we’re lucky. Brynnan told me about this, remember? We will either go mad or become poets since we haven’t died or been eaten by the monster.” He shook his head. “I never believed that bit about the monster.”

“Are you sure it was physically here in this world?”

“Actually, I don’t believe it was. When Arawn left me on the shore, I might have been partly in his realm, and the creature dwells there, on the border of Annwn. Brynnan told us there were two ways to visit that kingdom: as a spirit or physically, but only if you carried some part of the Shadow Lord within yourself. I can only think this mark on my shoulder bears something of Arawn himself.”

“So it’s like a key?”

“A key to a door I don’t want to open.”

Col looked back over his shoulder at Andri. “But . . .what does it all mean?”

“That’s the overwhelming question, isn’t it? But I do know one thing: the Shadow Lord tests those he takes an interest in. But I have no idea what he wants from me,” said Andri.

“As long as his wants do not part us. We have too much to live for right now: our son, our family, your becoming a bard, the horses . . .”

They navigated the trail in silence for a while. In parts, they had to dismount and scramble down, but Col was pleased with the sure-footedness and stamina of the stallion.

At long last, they reached the bottom of the trail just as the sky coloured into a red-tinted dawn. Aled was standing there to meet them, holding the reins of his horse and Andri’s black mare, Kalo.

“Andri! Col found you, thank the Mother-of-All! What happened?”

Andri slid off the stallion. “I’m not ready to tell that tale yet. Let’s just say I sleepwalked and leave it at that.”

“That’s fine with me,” Aled replied. “I bet you’re dying for a cup of chao.”

“Bad choice of word,” said Andri as he tiredly mounted Kalo. “Rather, I’m really craving a cup of chao.”

*    *    *

Despite being up most of the night, Col decided they should leave right after breakfast. He allowed the painted stallion a little grain to restore its energy and did not hurry the pace when they moved out.

The red dawn turned into rainy weather, which persisted throughout the day. There was little shelter to be found, and Col was thankful for the raincapes they wore over their cloaks that also covered their horses’ backs. Andri was quiet, but he did answer Col’s enquiring glances with a wan smile.

“Don’t think about it too much, ves’tacha,” Col told his lover. “There’s time enough to find answers—if there are any besides the Shadow Lord’s strange whims. Who can comprehend the mind of a god?”

That night they found a copse of trees that provided wood for a welcome fire. The pieces were wet, but Col’s skills got a blaze going despite the persistent rain.

Andri finally spoke to the others about his strange adventure. Usually, he would have kept silent about such a supernatural event, but he decided Aled, Gethen and Keven had earned the right to know; bonded as they were by shared experiences. The others could form no conclusion about the Grey King’s motives, but Keven offered a strange viewpoint.

“You have said that the Shadow Lord tests us, and he certainly did after he helped Col, Aled and Geraint to escape at Hesperon. Have you considered, Andri, that you yourself might have become one of King Arawn’s tests? Maybe he was testing the lake monster.”

The others laughed uncomfortably, but Aled said, “We have never really questioned the mark he put on you, Andri. You told us the effect it had on those who touched it, but we never have, except for Col. Does it affect you, Col?”

“Nothing, whether enchanted handprints or sorcerers’ curses, could change the love I bear for Andri.”

Keven started to say, “Maybe we should—“

“No!” Andri cut him off. “This is no game. When we return to the College, I plan to seek an audience with Grand Master Neven-Tanet. If anyone can help me, it is he.”

“Or Brynnan, perhaps, when we see him again,” added Col. He changed the subject. “We shall soon be on the summer pasture of the ArMynydd horse herd. We have some chosen mares the herders will bring down for the breeding programme with the stallions. I, for one, am looking forward to our journey’s conclusion.”

*    *    *

Thankfully, apart from the challenging weather, no other strange encounters confronted the small party. The days passed until, on a clear morning, Col raised his head and sniffed the air like a hound on a scent trail.

“I smell . . .smoke, very faint. And horses. We are close. Aled, ride ahead of us and keep your eye out for the horse guardians.”

Soon the party met with outriders from the great ArMynydd herd, who greeted them enthusiastically.

Col and Keven kept the two Vanna stallions they rode tightly in check. The beasts raised their heads, dancing restlessly as they scented the mares.

Gleddyf Hir, the chief herdsman, welcomed them effusively when they arrived at the camp.

“I had almost given up on you, but I see your two stallions. What handsome beasts! I hope their qualities match their looks. Have you had a chance to test their mettle?”

“Oh, on a couple of occasions!” Col said, grinning. “I think you would approve.”

“You must tell us about them at the fire. Your mares have been kept apart, and the lucky ladies are ready to travel. I’ve chosen four men to escort them down to the Redoubt. I think Horsemaster Gabrien will be pleased with our selections.”

The companions settled in at the camp, erecting their tents and bathing at the nearby river. Col felt much better for washing the trail dust off his body and helping Andri clean out; he had plans for his lover and himself. His designs took an intriguing turn when a young rider approached, sporting a long black braid and a downy beard.

“Garyn ap Cai!” Col exclaimed in delight.

Garyn jumped off his horse, grinning widely. “I heard you had arrived. I’ve met your two stallions. Keven showed them to me. What incredible horses! I saw them trot, and they seemed to float. And their hair! I’ve never seen manes that long. Then there’s all that long feathering on their legs—“

“Whoa, boy! I think you’re in love. You’ve been out here too long!” Col said, laughing. “But I’ve got a cure for that. Would you like to join Andri and me tonight?”

“You mean, like last time? That would be, er—amazing! I haven’t seen much engagement since you left. My boyfriend and I have separated.”

Andri spoke, “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Garyn shrugged. “It happens.”

Col laid a hand on the young herder’s arm. “Gleddyf Hir wants to hear about our travels after the evening meal and a song or two from Andri, but after that, you can come to our tent.”

“You can count on me. I’ll wash the scent of horse off first and change my clothes. You’ll hardly recognize me!”

He kissed both of them before riding away.

*    *    *

The evening passed in welcome entertainment. Andri was much in demand for his songs, and Col told the herders an abbreviated tale of the theft and subsequent rescue of the black and white stallion and Geraint’s colt. He emphasized the action but minimized the horror of the slaughter he witnessed. He told of being beaten, and his gold tooth was subsequently admired, being deemed a battle scar by the men of the camp. Of course, the Shadow Lord was not mentioned. Andri was well aware of the herders’ fear of the supernatural. Keven, leaning against his lover Gethen, drank in Col’s words as if he’d never heard the tale before, but after, when the herders asked questions of Col and Aled, he was uncharacteristically silent.

But at last, the evening advanced into the night, and the day-watch herders prepared to turn in.

Col took Andri aside. “I’ve been thinking,” he said. “Remember when  Brynnan’s spirit energy became depleted, and we had sex with him to restore it? Well, my worry now is Arawn drawing you further into the Shadow Realm.”

“It’s my worry, too. I can’t keep waking up naked in strange places, but what can we do?”

“If a group of us were to fuck you and touch Arawn’s mark, it might tie you closer to this material world. I’ve got a feeling about this.”

“It sounds risky. Who do you have in mind?”

“Just Aled, Gethen, Keven, Garyn and me, of course.”

Andri sighed. “If you think it might help . . .”

Col rounded up their friends and moved their two tents together to create one larger tent. Then they were ready.

*    *    *

Andri knelt naked on the sheet spread over their bedding. Aled and the young herder, Garyn, knelt beside him, and all three kissed. Gethen stretched out in front of Andri and sucked his cock, while Keven lay beside the young guard, playing with  Gethen’s genitals.

Col stood looking on, his mind occupied with concern for his lover and a rising sexual desire. Having a group of rutting men present, Col detected the scent of pheromones and sweat and the tangible anticipation of further action. He moved in amongst his friends.

Andri now lay on his back, hips raised. Taking the bottle of lubricant, Col greased up his stiffening shaft and poured some on Andri’s ass.

“Are you ready, ves’tacha?”

“Yes. Take me first, my heart!”

Col smiled wickedly, “But, of course!”

He knelt between the young bard’s thighs, grasping Andri’s buttocks to pull his ass higher. As he played his cock over the anal portal, Aled and Garyn, on either side of Andri, sucked on his nipples, and Aled reached down to manipulate the young bard’s cock. Col sank his rigid penis into his spouse’s ass, making Andri cry out. Keven, kneeling by Andri’s head, jerked himself off.

Col began to fuck his lover with intense concentration: each thrust harder than the one before. Andri tried to moan, but Keven was now kissing him.

Garyn lifted his head from Andri’s nipple and saw the drops of clear fluid exuding from it. “What’s this?” he exclaimed. “You are lactating like a mare!”

“Keep sucking that man-milk, Garyn,” Gethen said, stroking himself. “Andri must be really turned on. I’ve only ever seen it once before—in a boy.”

Aled lifted his head from Andri’s other nipple and saw that it, too, was producing the fluid. Meanwhile, Col, thrusting hard into his lover’s ass, slowed down, then withdrew, although he had not cum.

“Who’s next? Garyn? Let Gethen take over sucking. Come here, and don’t forget to touch Andri’s shoulder as you fuck him.

Garyn readily complied. His cock was stiff, and Col put lubricant on it for him, rubbing it in sensually before adding more to his lover’s rectal opening.

Garyn’s cock slid in with ease. The youthful herder groaned but moved with practiced expertise. When he reached up and stroked Andri’s shoulder, he almost stopped in shock.

“Aah! That’s unreal! Andri, all I can feel is love for you. I’m going to fuck you until I cum!”

He proceeded to do just that. Garyn held back nothing; but, incited by lust and love, hammered his cock into Andri’s rectal passage until he cried out wordlessly, pumping his cum inside the young bard. Andri bucked and strained against him.

Then it was Aled’s turn. The older guard placed his hand on Andri’s shoulder and smiled. His eyes sparkled, although he took his time and fucked his way thoroughly until he, too, came.

Andri allowed himself to cum with Aled, spraying semen all over himself, but his erection did not subside. Then Gethen, followed by Keven, took Aled’s place. Neither needed to add more lubricant to Andri’s ass as his hole was drenched with the other’s sperm.

Keven was the most inexperienced at fucking, having only recently been shown how by Gethen, who was now his committed lover. It did not take him long to cum, especially after stroking his hand over Andri’s mark.

The only one who had not cum was Col, and he took his place for the final round.

“Now I’m going to fuck you hard, ves’tacha. Will you cum with me?”

“Always, my husband. I love you beyond words or songs can express.”

Col laughed. “Your body is more eloquent than all the bardic poems. Show me.”

“Gladly. Now stop talking and fuck me.”

Col obliged. The others watched as Col thrust into his partner, deep and fast. Both young men were groaning, and their desire approached its culmination.

“Now, my love,” Col demanded.

As their climax enveloped them, tears of emotion flowed. Col collapsed over his exhausted lover, hugging him tightly and rolling his body until Andri was on top. The others closed in around the pair, striving to share their multiple embraces.

*    *    *

“My legs are shaking,” Andri laughed as he and Col stood near the river’s edge. Col had the bucket and squeeze bottles and had lovingly washed his partner.

“I’m not surprised,” Col answered.

“Do you think it worked?” asked Andri.

“We’ll just have to see. How did you feel? Any regrets?”

“Oddly, no. It was intensely arousing but also filled with love. It’s not just the effect of Arawn’s mark; we have real friends there whom we love and trust. Furthermore, I felt filled with life, not just semen.”

“Let’s hope it’s an antidote to the Shadow Realm. Do you think Arawn will be angry?”

“No,” said Andri. “I don’t. He probably laughs at us poor mortals. No one can escape death.”

“Except our thrice-born friend, Brynnan. But while the rest of us can’t escape death, we can choose how we will take on life.”

He kissed Andri lovingly, then said, “Let’s go rest with our friends. Tomorrow we leave for the ArMor-ys Redoubt. I can’t wait to show Master Gabrien our Vanna Stallions. Three more days, and we’ll be home.”

*    *    *

To be continued . . .