Col and Andri: The Vanna Stallions

Andri’s Choice

“Look, Andri: the Pass of the Sun lies just ahead. We’re nearly home! Tonight we can sleep in our own bed.” Col said, shading his eyes with his hand.

“Thank the Mother-of-All,” Andri, his lover and spouse, replied. “I hope we can settle into a quiet routine. I like travelling, but I’ve had my fill of adventures for a while.”

Col laughed. “Do you really think things will be quiet?”

Andri sighed. “Alas, no. We have been through so much. Events are, even now, still shaping us. Our work isn’t done.”

“Let’s just take it as it comes, ves’tacha. Look: the mountain hawks welcome us!”

The peaks of the ArMorican mountain range stood like a barrier between the High Plateau and the sea. The sentinel crags guarding each side of the Pass reared high before the party of travellers, and white-winged birds of prey soared between them in the clear morning air, lazily circling on the rising thermal currents.

“Two of them is a good omen,” remarked Col.

Col and Andri travelled with their guards, Aled and Gethen, their groom, Keven, and many horses: their mounts and packhorses, the two Vanna stallions, and the selected twenty mares for the new warhorse breeding program ordered by the Warlord, Samir, of Torrent Mountain. The mares were in the care of four herders from the horse camp on the High Plateau, who would return after delivering their charges.

Consequently, it took some time for the entire train of men and beasts to descend as far as the upper pastures, the grazing grounds for the ArMor-ys Redoubt horses. The four herdsmen remained with the mares while Col’s party continued their descent.

Presently, they arrived at ArMor-ys. The huge Redoubt was largely unseen, being built into the mountain, but the stone buildings of the ancient College complex lay before it. Guards greeted them, welcoming Col’s party.

They split into two groups at that point; Col, Keven and the Vanna stallions to the stable yards and Andri, Aled and Gethen to the College.

“I’ll report to Horsemaster Gabrien first, ves’tacha,” said Col. “Then I’ll come to our room.”

“We will meet with Master Daraou this evening, but tomorrow is soon enough for formal debriefings. Let’s just wash, eat, rest and unpack today. Don’t be long with Gabrien, my love. You can have a more in-depth meeting tomorrow.” Andri raised a suggestive eyebrow.

“Time enough then to take him up to the mares, but he’ll want to see the stallions straight away,” Col replied.

“You mean, you want him to meet the stallions straight away—I can see right through you, my husband!”

“There is that,” Col said, grinning.

*    *    *

“Ah! Hot water, and more hot water. The luxuries of being home!” Andri exclaimed as he soaped his body.

“Here, let me . . .” Col took the sponge and washed Andri’s back as they stood in the tiled bathing room under the shower of water that sprayed over a high stone ledge. Their mutual bathing inevitably turned into sexual play.

“I can never get enough of you, ves’tacha!” Col exclaimed as Andri knelt before him, water sluicing off his back as the young bard sucked his cock.

*    *    *

That evening, both young men were summoned by Master Daraou, to whom Andri was apprenticed. They stood before him in his crowded study as he addressed them.

“Tomorrow, while Col attends his business with Horsemaster Gabrien, you and I shall meet, Andri. I shall expect a full accounting of the music and stories of the Wanderers that you’ve learned, plus your insights into the culture. You will perform some of your material in the next several days.”

“Of course, Master Daraou. But I have other news—“

Daraou interrupted him. “If you are going to tell me that you and Col are now hand-fasted, I already know. Some time ago, our acolytes received a telepathic message from the Seer, Eleni, Col’s grandmother, who informed us you had taken vows together and that Col is the father of a child. This poses some problems concerning your studies.”

Col spoke up quickly. “Our hand-fasting was something that the time demanded. The currents of—how do you call it? Fate? But they led us to an inevitable event. As to Andri and my child, we have sworn to be involved in his life. I hope that any difficulties this causes can be solved, Master Daraou.”

“It was a culmination of probabilities, Master,” Andri interjected. “You have taught me that when the time demands an action, the correct course is boldness.”

“Peace, Andri. I do not need convincing. As I said, there will be challenges, but a solution presents itself. Next spring, you will be in your fifth year of study, and part of that is assigning you to a field posting for three moons. With the Grandmaster’s blessing, I can send you to the Wanderers. Seer Eleni has already said you will be welcomed by Col’s people. But you must fulfill your apprenticeship tasks there, and you must study hard this year.”

“Master, I will—“ Andri started, but Col interrupted him.

“He will work his ass off. And I will support him all I can. Horsemaster Gabrien wants more stallions, and I will be his emissary.”

Andri tried hard to bite his lip and refrain from admonishing his partner, but unexpectedly, Master Daraou smiled.

“I commend your concern and commitment, Col. We will work towards this goal over the rest of the year. Now, I have a message for you from Grandmaster Neven-Tanet himself. Both you and Andri will meet him tomorrow at the first evening bell. Do not be late.”

Andri felt a nervousness in his stomach as he considered the meeting. “Do I need to take my harp?”

“If the Grandmaster desires it, a harp will be provided.”

Before dismissing them, he added a last comment. “I am pleased to see you both back in one piece, except for you,  Col. Yes, I noticed your gold tooth. There’s a tale there you must tell me when time allows. But you fulfilled your duties, apparently, and kept Andri and young Keven safe. I trust that your guards, Aled and Gethen, did their job.”

“Admirably, Master. They are to be commended,” Andri said, bowing formally to his teacher.

*    *    *

The next day promised to be a busy one. The couple arose early for their respective appointments; Andri to Master Daraou and Col to see Horsemaster Gabrien.

Col entered the stable complex and was greeted by several of the grooms.

“I will be at the stalls of the new stallions,” he told one young lad. “Please fetch Horsemaster Gabrien.”

“Yes, Col—I mean, Assistant Horsemaster Col,” the boy said, flushing with embarrassment.

“That’s a mouthful to say, don’t you think? I’m still just Col!” he laughed.

The two Vanna stallions had been placed into large adjacent stalls inside the stable building reserved for the ArMor-ys guardsmen’s horses. These were specially trained for patrol and combat. As Col approached, he could hear Keven singing inside the black and white stallion’s enclosure. He was spreading out wood shavings onto the stall floor.

“Good morning, Col. Are you recovering from our journey? It feels strange to be back, doesn’t it?”

“It does indeed. Andri will be returning to his classes, and I—“

“You will be training these stallions and their progeny when the new foals are born,” said Horsemaster Gabrien, approaching them.

Col looked up, smiling at the Master of Horse, a muscular and fit man of middle age with a head of iron-grey hair and a well-trimmed beard.

“Gabrien, I’m looking forward to that. Our two stallions have already shown that they’re bold and tireless. Keven has done a great job with them, refining their manners and helping me develop their gaits and manoeuvres.”

Gabrien nodded. “Even stud horses need to be trained and handled well. It makes them gentler and more controllable when they cover the mares. I’m assigning Keven as the head groom in our new breeding program with these two stallions and the twenty mares your herders brought down.”

Keven grinned happily. “I was hoping you’d say that, Horsemaster!”

“Col, I want us to take the Vanna stallions out now and visit the mares in the upper pasture. I have already arranged for five grooms to work under Keven to look after the mares.”

Keven looked proud of his new responsibilities. He said, “These two are already fed and brushed. I’ll get them saddled up straight away.”

*    *    *

Col and Gabrien approached the waterfall not far from the upper pasture, where they had spent time examining the mares and slowly introducing the stallions to them.

“Let’s take a break here. We can discuss our findings,” Gabrien said, dismounting.

Col looked around at the glade. “Here” was the spot where Col and Gabrien had previously explored their sexual attraction to one another before Col had set out on his mission. The two men sat on the soft grass by the side of the falls, close enough that they occasionally felt a drift of spray. It felt refreshing in the warm, clear air.

Col, feeling hot, removed his padded vest and stretched back on the grass.

“I’ve thought of names for the Vanna stallions. The paint will be named Shadow Warrior, and the silver-maned black is Brav.”

“Any particular reason?”

“But of course. Wait till I tell you about all our adventures! Shadow Warrior, or just Warrior, took me on a perilous journey up the side of Cadair Annwn, right to the shores of Llyn Cau. Andri informed me of the legends tied to that mountain.”

“So you didn’t encounter the monster?” said Gabrien, laughing.

“As a matter of fact—never mind just now, I’ll tell you later. The other stallion’s name, Brav, is because he carried me in a fight against hostile soldiers and displayed a great and fearless spirit. Gabrien . . . I killed men.”

The Horsemaster listened intently as Col recounted the events surrounding the theft of his horses, the fight, his subsequent capture by Garth Mellea and being forced to kill more guards during his escape with his companions.

“But I accept what I’ve done,” Col finished, “and it will not deter me in future actions. I knew that when I took up the sword, but the actual doing is hard on my spirit.”

“The important choices are never easy, but if you did find it easy to kill others, then something’s wrong,” responded Gabrien.

They sat in silence for a while until Gabrien laid his hand on Col’s arm. “Look at me,” he said.

When Col looked up, his gaze was caught by the Horsemaster’s, and it seemed the pitiless look of a bird of prey. But then Gabrien leaned forward and kissed Col’s mouth, probing it with his tongue. Col responded. When they broke apart, both wordlessly undressed until they lay naked on the grass.

Col leaned over Gabrien’s firm body, caressing his genitals until the Horsemaster’s cock stiffened into a glistening rod with pre-cum dripping from the tip. He placed his lips over the glans and sucked it lightly at first, then, swallowing the cock’s entire length, his sucking became stronger. He smelled sweat and the man-musk of Gabrien’s ball sack, which excited him.

Then Gabrien pulled Col off his penis and moved over to reciprocate, nuzzling and sucking Col’s erect phallus. Col groaned and pushed Gabrien’s head down, holding it over his cock.

Gabrien rolled free. “Turn over,” he commanded. When Col was on his hands and knees, Gabrien spread the copious pre-cum from his cock over the shaft and slowly pushed it into the young man’s anal opening.

Col shuddered, especially when Gabrien reached up and pulled on his nipple, which immediately formed a stiff point.

“Do you want it, Col?” the Horsemaster asked in a low voice. “Do you want my cock inside your ass?”

“Yes, I want you to fuck me,” Col acknowledged.

“Alright, then.” Gabrien’s firm shaft pushed in deeper, and he commenced a rhythmic stroking that caused the younger man’s body to shudder.

“Don’t stop: fuck me harder.” Col pushed back against the invading phallus, meeting each stroke with his body.

Gabrien increased his tempo until his hips worked rapidly, pumping his cock in and out, his balls slapping against Col’s. “Stroke yourself, and tell me when you’re about to cum,” he instructed.

Col’s hand slid to his cock, and he began to jerk off. He felt his pre-cum coating the head as he agitated the foreskin, sliding it back and forth over the glans. Gabrien’s fucking battered him, and he pulled on his cock harder. He could feel the crest of an erotic wave building inside his body and knew his ejaculation was imminent.

“I’m going to cum: give me your load,” he gasped between indrawn breaths. Then Col felt Gabrien’s cock pulse and spasm, and he clenched his muscles about it.

As Gabrien shot his load, Col’s semen jetted out of his cock. Knowing the Horsemaster was cumming inside him sent him over the edge as he surrendered to his body’s powerful forces. He tossed his loose, black curls over his forehead as he bucked and strained, part of his spirit freed like an untamed stallion. It was release; it was freedom being fucked by someone who not only understood what he had been forced to do but who had trained him to fight and survive.

Spent, they rolled together onto the soft turf and lay, hearts beating wildly until their responses calmed. Then Gabrien took Col in his arms, and they kissed each other deeply.

*    *    *

When Col returned to his and Andri’s chamber late in the afternoon, his lover was already there, playing a Wanderer ballad on his harp.

“How did your meeting with Master Daraou go?” Col asked.

“Good, I think. Eleni told me what information I could share and what to keep private. Several Masters were present, and they understood when I informed them. But I demonstrated some Brigaki djilia, the Sorrow songs, and even the Mulengi djilia, the Spirit songs, although I was careful to choose a harmless example. I played the lute instead of my harp. The whole time, I was feeling unworthy.”

“Why?”

“Who am I to represent your people’s music?”

“A bard with a gifted voice. Isn’t a travelling bard expected to know the music of other people and cultures? Don’t be so hard on yourself. Both Grandmother and Silvanus approved of your mission,” said Col, placing an arm around his lover’s back.

Andri buried his head in Col’s shoulder. Then he looked into his husband’s eyes. “You’ve been with Gabrien, haven’t you?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“I can smell sex— actually, it’s arousing me. I want to fuck you myself.”

“Whoa, that was a quick turn of subject! Okay, I’ll just go wash—“

“Don’t,” Andri said with an uncharacteristically wicked smile. “I want to reclaim you, just as you are. It’s an animal thing.”

Col was surprised but didn’t object. “I will take any offer you give me, ves’tacha.”

Andri helped Col undress quickly. He pushed Col over the bed before stripping off his own clothes. His cock was already hard as he pressed against his lover’s ass.

“Tell me what you did—I don’t need to know what you talked about, just how he fucked you!”

“Well, we kissed, then sucked each other’s cocks, then Gabrien mounted me from behind . . .”

“Like this?”

“Ouch! Yes. Aren’t you going to use some lubricant?”

“I don’t need to. You’re ready for me, aren’t you?”

“Yes—“

As Andri thrust his cock inside Col’s anal passage and started moving his hips back and forth, Col wondered at his lover’s unaccustomed sexual aggression. But he understood animals and recognized that Andri was right: he needed to leave his mark on his husband. Col was caught up in his lover’s feverish excitement, and Andri’s fucking rapidly brought him to climax.

“You’re making me cum, ves’tacha!”

“I intend to. Do you surrender?”

“I always will. I’m cumming now—aah!”

Andri kept thrusting aggressively until he, too, ejaculated, and it seemed to Col that he could feel the hot sperm inside him, mingling with Gabrien’s.

Andri kissed Col’s back when they had finished, saying, “Let’s go wash. I’ll help you clean out. Then we had better make haste: our meeting with the Grandmaster will occur shortly. And—I love you. I just couldn’t help myself.”

“I’ll submit to you anytime you wish, ves’tacha.”

“It won’t be too often. I like you being in control when we make love.”

*    *    *

A red-robed acolyte came to their door to escort them to see Grandmaster Neven-Tanet. Andri and Col were bathed and ready, with Andri dressed in his dark green student attire, covered by the cloak that displayed his badge of rank and the brooch gifted to him by Strategos Arcturus of the Deieros warriors. Col wore the formal attire of a Horsemaster, with a crested tabard over his black shirt and breeches. Andri thought his lover looked darkly handsome and self-assured.

They walked through long, high-ceilinged corridors out of the students’ wing, through the College and across to the building that housed the priests and master bards.

The faint smell of incense permeated the air, and the sound of their footsteps echoed off the stone walls. At last, they reached the tall carved doors that led to the Hall of Silence, the Grandmaster’s meditation chamber. Their escort took them inside and presented them to a priest, an older man with silver hair in multiple braids in the old style.

The large chamber’s main focus was a broad, shallow reflecting pool with tilework of turquoise and gold patterns of nature, flowers and animals. Alcoves flanked either side of the pool, with six graceful arches on each side. Light streamed in through several high windows of coloured glasswork that created a mosaic of bright patterns on the chamber floor. A dais with shallow steps at the end of the chamber provided the Grandmaster’s seat. Two braziers lightly smoking with incense were placed at either side of the platform, and the vapour curled in the coloured light from the windows.

Andri and Col had previously met the Grandmaster several times, and to Col, he looked unchanged, wearing white robes that matched his long snowy hair and beard. But this time, a visitor sat cross-legged beside him, holding a very recognizable harp of purple wood. It was their friend and more than friend, Brynnan.

To say that Col and Andri were surprised was the least of their reactions, and Andri’s face betrayed shock as an awful but undetermined premonition gripped him. He knelt with Col before Neven-Tanet and touched his head to the stone in a gesture of deep respect. The Grandmaster was renowned for his wisdom and good judgment.

“Relax, my young friends,” said the Grandmaster. “We have matters of import to discuss, but I would prefer to do it informally to set you at ease, for I would know your hearts.”

The priest who greeted them brought a tray bearing glass goblets of green wine and served them. Then he withdrew from the chamber. Andri looked around for a customary scribe but could see no one else.

“Yes, we are alone for our meeting. Just you and me and the Marec Mavrenn.”

Andri felt the uneasiness in the pit of his stomach increase. To ease his mind, he took a sip of the green wine, then froze. He instinctively recognized what they were drinking.

“You told me of the green wine of Annwn! Is this it? But how—and why?”

Brynnan, speaking for the first time, answered him. “A gift from my father, Arawn.”

Andri’s shock remained. “But only those of Annwn can drink of it! We are not yet dead . . .”

“Well observed!” said Neven-Tanet with a wry smile. “But all of us present are marked by Annwn’s  King, are we not? You, Andri, bear the Arawn’s mark on your shoulder; Col has rendered his pledge to that Dread Lord; Brynnan is his son, and I—let’s just say Brynnan saved my life and leave it at that.”

“Grandmaster, may I speak?” said Andri.

“But of course. I summoned you here for that purpose.”

“Are we to be expelled? Col and I are hand-fasted: we have a son, who is being raised right now by Col’s brother and his wife, and we swore to uphold the child and spend some part of the year with him: all without your permission. We did not tell you.”

“You are telling me now, are you not? I have been kept informed by the Marec Mavrenn and by Col’s grandmother, the Seer Eleni, who has a true vision. No, you are safest in the College, pursuing your course of studies here. But I have also spoken to Master Daraou, who has informed me of your future study and travel plans.”

“Thank you, Grandmaster. We—“

“Don’t thank me yet, Andri. There’s more. Brynnan will help explain.” Neven-Tanet inclined his head to the Master Bard.

“You, Andri and Col, are the sons of my heart. You have been a significant part of my journey, and I am in your debt.”

“No, Brynnan, we are in yours—” Col started.

“Hear me out.” But instead of immediately explaining, the Bard knelt upright, drawing his harp, Mavrenn, to his shoulder and began to play.

It was a wordless tune, exquisite in its simplicity and harmony, music that seemed to tug at the soul. To Andri, the harp had never sounded so enchanting, and it bound him. He felt Col take hold of his hand.

Then Brynnan did speak. He told of being the Marec Mavrenn: his duties, responsibilities and experiences.

“The Servant of Ravens is also the servant of his people, living and dead. He sends the dying body’s soul on its journey. I do admit, however, that historically that duty has not involved escorting the soul through the Shadow ways that lead to the final gate. That is an inheritance from my Father to me. But since I came into that inheritance, I am drawing farther from humanity: I have died twice and been reborn with my Father’s aid. My journeys have taken me far from my homeland and its people. I have been the Marec Mavrenn all my life—not that it has been that long—since I was a youth. I used to travel the length and breadth of our country. I would spend the night in crofter’s homes and serve the poorest of them with my music as if they were kings. I watched over their sick, listened to them, and led the souls of their dead to the Dread Portal. But it seems that my life has now diverged.”

“Brynnan, what are you saying?” Andri asked, feeling deeply troubled.

“I can sojourn in the Blessed Realm in my living body. I can direct the storm and ride with my Father in the Wild Hunt. And I have the ability to summon the Void, to invoke the powers of the Abyss. There is no place for a man with my powers, let alone a simple bard who talks with ravens. And my powers grow.”

He looked deeply into Andri’s eyes. “You, my heart’s son, are my heir and Mavrenn’s choice. She accepted you when you played her at the Wanderer’s Spring Gathering.”

“You were testing me!”

“Yes. In that, I’m afraid I take after my Father. I had to know if my instincts and premonitions would be born out.”

“But now I am bound to this? It is too great a responsibility.”

Andri’s face was white; he felt the pressure of his lover’s hand and knew Col was equally distressed.

“Ves’tacha,” said Col. “Alas, I feel this in the currents of the Time-To-Be.”

“Can I not control my own fate?” Andri responded.

“Of course, you can,” said Neven-Tanet. “You can refuse. I recall having a similar conversation with a certain young bardic apprentice when Mavrenn chose him instead of his Master, who had challenged for the privilege. But you do not have to decide yet. Years can pass before Brynnan’s fate becomes inevitable. You will have time to prepare, and you will have all the support you need—assuming you want to become a bard?”

“Of course I do. One of my greatest fears is of losing my place here. But Col . . .”

“Your commitment to each other need not stand in your way, and you may still raise your child as you and Col wish—and be an emissary to Col’s people.”

Col spoke. “I think we should seriously consider this, ves’tacha. Did you not say that understanding the currents of the Time-To-Be demands boldness? Shall we not seize this offer and see where life takes us? It will be a great adventure!”

“Col . . .” Andri shook his head in exasperation, but then he smiled and sighed. “And Brynnan has given us nothing but love. Am I that small-minded to run away from this?”

Brynnan said, “There is nothing small-minded in it. Fear can be a healthy survival response. Many times I have been afraid: afraid for the loss of my mind and voice when I was Samir’s captive, afraid for my soul when I faced the Necromancer, afraid when I was in the clutches of Martiya, the Angel of Death. But you came and fetched me out when I was lost in her cave, and I eventually defeated that renegade spirit because of you. And most of all, I was afraid of my heritage and powers. I still am.”

“But you take your challenges head-on, despite fear,” said Andri with wonder. “Do you recall when we faced our fears together at Col’s family‘s camp after I’d been held captive at Redstone? Can I do any less in this instance?”

Brynnan was silent, letting Andri work out the answer for himself, but his dark eyes were eloquent with understanding.

Andri took a deep breath. “I accept on behalf of Col and myself. Please just give me a little time.”

“I am not simply going to leave Mavrenn in your hands and depart. I will have to visit you more often and instruct you, and you will want to practice playing her. You will have time yet, while Mavrenn and I continue to serve as best we may.”

The Grandmaster spoke. “I lend my heartfelt support to your decision, young Andri. You and your spouse, Col, are in my care, and so is Brynnan, until I release him from his vows. Now you may go. Rest, and be with each other. Be gentle with each other’s souls.”

“Thank you, Grandmaster,” said Andri, bowing once more.

But Col simply said, “Stay with God, Grandmaster. May the Bari Devlaika watch over you.”

“And you, young Horsemaster, go with God.”

Andri and Col stood. They looked at Brynnan, a question in their eyes.

“Would you like some company tonight?” Brynnan said as he picked up Mavrenn’s case.

“You don’t have to ask that,” said Col, smiling broadly, and the light caught his gold tooth.

“Then we shall go—together,” Brynnan responded.

Back in the hallway with Andri and Brynnan, Col said, “I feel the currents of the Time-To-Be. A night of love winds its way into my senses.”

“Then let’s seize it with boldness,” Andri replied.

“I have more of the wine of Annwn,” said Brynnan. “Shall we drink of it?”

“I have petted a monster on the shores of your Father’s realm,” Andri mused. “I’m no longer afraid.”

END

 

If you have enjoyed this tale of Col and Andri and have suggestions for other stories of Brynnan’s World that you would like to read, you may email me at

[email protected]