To Discover His Truth

The Crossing

Gereint, the old Warrior and Nijal, surgeon and Guardian, lay concealed on the heights overlooking the outcrop on the other side of the river below. Nijal relieved Geraint on morning watch over Redstone Holding.

“Report, please, Geraint.”

“A group of twenty men left earlier this morning, heading uphill across the river, away from us. I also saw two people bringing out a string of ten horses, probably to graze them. They, too, headed upslope but turned off on a trail to the East before they reached the top.”

Nijal said, thoughtfully, “That means they have reduced their strength at present. I hope the party of twenty men is on a mission that will keep them away for a while. It would be a good time for Brynnan to make his move, if he can, and bring our Andri out of the Keep.”

“But he said several days at least!” Geraint’s frustration was evident in his voice.

“Somehow, I think it will be less time than that. It may quickly become an untenable situation for our Bard. I suggest we remain on high alert,” Nijal said, then he glanced at Geraint in consideration, “Old Warrior, your feelings are eating you up. Let go. Stand back here in the shelter of the bushes, and let me ease your mind. Just keep on watching a little longer.”

Geraint complied. Nijal ducked over and knelt in front of him, “I am not our Bard to pay you his morning tribute, but give yourself over to me, anyway.”

“I won’t say no, Silver-hand,” Geraint replied, using the address given to Nijal as a surgeon.

“Soon to be Silver-tongue, as well,” Nijal said softly and opened the old Warrior’s breeches.

The Guardian put a hand to the large cock in front of him and massaged it. Then he took it in his mouth and began to suck.

Geraint had already proved that he could remain alert while having his cock played with and sucked. Brynnan had tested him a few days before this occasion.

Nijal slowly deep-throated Geraint’s thick cock from the root to the broad, mushroom-shaped tip with his lips and tongue before sucking it back down again, while his right hand massaged the pendulous and hairy balls. He used a finger to probe into the old Warrior’s asshole at the same time.

Geraint sighed and looked more at ease, “How did you learn to do that so good?”

Nijal started to reply, but Geraint interrupted him, “Oh, just shut up and keep sucking! I know: it’s Battlefield Medicine.”

Nijal laughed around the cock in his mouth and applied himself to making Geraint cum. In short order, the old Warrior seized Nijal’s shaggy wheat-coloured mane with both hands and held tightly as his ejaculation overwhelmed him. His thick cum pumped down the Guardian’s willing throat, and he struggled to remain focussed on his watchkeeping duties.

“When I’ve recovered, I’ll return the favour,” he said, briefly bending down to kiss the top of Nijal’s head.

“No need just yet, old Warrior. Why don’t you go back to our camp, have a break, and check on the horses?”

“Yes. I could do with some food. Have care and stay safe!”

Geraint slipped away into the forest and travelled parallel to the road. He could move silently when he had to. His path took him to a clearing beside a small, spring-fed pool. His horse, Shade, wore rope hobbles to keep her from wandering. The other three horses roamed freely, but they would not stray away from Shade: she was the lead mare of their little herd. The three loose horses would run away if a stranger came upon them, but no stranger could handle blue-roan Shade.

Geraint petted the horses, who pushed at his clothing, looking for treats. The tents and most of the equipment lay packed and ready to go in case of need. Geraint took some protein bars from the pack to eat and lay down in a lightweight travel hammock slung between two trees. After eating, he dozed for a time.

The sound of a horse whinnying interrupted his rest. Almost instantly (allowing for a particular body stiffness), he slipped out of the hammock and moved swiftly in the direction of the call. Thankfully his own horses remained silent.

In the shadow of tall spruce trees, he observed a covered wagon on the road, pulled by a large, exceptionally hairy horse. It commanded Geraint’s attention. A long, white mane of crinkled hair flowed nearly to the beast’s knees, and the full tail swept the ground. The horse’s legs sported ‘feathers’ from the knees down - long hairs flowing like giant mops about its hooves. With bold, black and white colouration, the horse looked well-cared for and outstanding. That had significance to Geraint. Anyone who visibly cared for their beasts was not running away or in pressing trouble. Care took time.

Geraint stepped forwards to introduce himself. He then stood quietly, arms away from his sides and the palms of his hands open.

An old woman and younger man sat in the driver’s seat of the wagon. The man reined in the big horse to a stop and looked at Geraint, evaluating him. The noise of clopping hooves announced the arrival of two riders, one not long into manhood and the other middle-aged.

The old woman spoke first, “Where are the rest of you?” she demanded.

“There is just one other, and he keeps watch over the river approach,” Geraint replied, “And yourselves? Are you disposed to be friends or foe?”

“It depends,” the man driving the wagon retorted. “Do you ally yourself with the Holders across the river?”

Geraint decided to take a risk, “No, we do not. They have captured the third member of our party.”

The driver called out, “Col, Rafe, get up here!”

Geraint said, “If you attack me, I will defend myself!”

“Easy there. We will not attack.”

Geraint added, “If you are looking to ford the river, you’re at real risk from the Holding.”

“Tell him!” the old woman said.

The driver answered, “We are not crossing the river here. There is another way.”

“We can’t tell you the way then leave for there, ourselves, in case the Holders follow you. But what we can do is this: we can camp and wait for you until nightfall. If you have not managed to free your friend before then, we go on alone.”

Geraint felt his heart beat faster. “If we retrieve our friend, it will be in darkness. It’s unlikely we’ll make it in time, but we will try. And I thank you.”

Then the other older man spoke, “I’m Rafe. This is my grandmother, my father‒” he gestured to the wagon driver, “‒ and my brother, Col. If my grandmother permits, I will travel and wait with you to make sure we are safe. If you get your friend, I will guide you back to our camp, and we can show you the other way. Would you agree to this?”

Geraint diplomatically turned to the Grandmother, “My name is Geraint. You would have our gratitude if you could guide us, and we welcome your grandson. Is there anything we can do for you in repayment?”

“Not unless you can give life to the dying,” the driver answered grimly.

Geraint had to bite his tongue, or he would have said, ‘As a matter of fact. . .’

* * *

Geraint and Rafe travelled back to the lookout parallel to the road and kept in the trees’ shelter. Geraint rode the buckskin horse, clinging to Rafe’s back. They paused at the camp clearing so that Geraint could collect Shade, his horse. As they reached the watch post, Nijal materialized without disturbing a leaf. He looked questioningly at Geraint. Rafe took a turn on guard back at their lookout while Geraint told of his adventures with Rafe and his family.

Nijal turned to Rafe and said softly. Is your father named Kyan? And your Grandmother, Elina? Also called Elina the Seer?

Rafe’s whole body stiffened into a wary and defensive pose. And his hand hovered over his sword hilt.

Nijal raised a hand, open-palmed, “I intend no harm, and you don’t have to answer. But I once knew such a wise-woman and her young son Kyan. It was many turns ago, by your reckoning.”

“How could you know them? If it was so many years ago . . . You are young!”

“Not so,” answered Nijal, “My looks mislead many. But you have nothing to fear from me. Ask your Grandmother. We were once friends in her youth.”

Rafe seemed to realize that he had given himself away, “It is as you say. If you meet them, would you still be friends?”

“I would like to think so. We parted on good terms,”

“Then, if this is true, I will stay and watch with you past dark until your missing companion comes.”

“I thank you, Rafe. If our companion manages to escape, he will bring another with him – a young man with light and dark hair. If you encounter him, give him all the aid you can. He is not a fighter.”

Rafe nodded his head, “Very well. In the meantime, there are some hours until dark; how do we pass the time? Do you want me to watch by the road?”

Geraint answered him, “No. We stay together now until dusk. Then I will go to where we have Nijal’s horse and pack animals and make them ready. If we encounter Brynnan, our Bard, we will need to clear the area fast. As for passing the time, I owe a service to our friend Nijal if you would keep the watch while I do it. If it offends you, don’t look.”

Nijal suppressed an incredulous laugh with difficulty. “Now?? Old Warrior, you are incorrigible.”

Geraint smirked, “Some soldiers and leaders claim it drains their maleness, but I find it gives me focus and a calm mind. And I will need to be focussed later.”

Rafe looked mystified, “What is he talking about?” he said to Nijal.

“He wants to suck my cock. It’s just a thing with him.” Nijal shrugged.

“Don’t lie, my friend. I know you enjoy it, too.”

“I do enjoy it,” admitted Nijal, “Let us just be silent as we go about it.”

“My lips are sealed . . . or not, in this case,” said Geraint, approaching the Guardian.

“Then go to it, friend. I will lie back and listen for anything untoward.”

So Geraint knelt beside Nijal and sucked his cock. He played slowly but thoroughly. Rafe occasionally glanced back at them, voicing no objection, but he also paid good attention to his duty as a watchman. Geraint, who was no slouch, noticed a particular bulge forming under Rafe’s breeches.

He did not prolong his sucking: there was no luxury of time to afford. But he brought Nijal to a triumphant climax, and he came, shuddering with the aftershocks. He kissed Geraint with sincerity. “A good suggestion,” he finally whispered, “I do feel refreshed.”

But Geraint noticed the longing in Rafe’s eyes when he had glanced over at the couple. He imagined that sex was not a common occurrence in Rafe’s life. Geraint suggested to Nijal to take over the watch again, and Nijal caught the hint.

As Nijal and Rafe exchanged places, Geraint beckoned the man over to him, “Why don’t you relax and place your burdens down for a little while? I would give you pleasure also.”

Rafe looked as if he would refuse, but Geraint added, “It is your choice, but I promise you there will be no debts between us.”

“Then I consent,” said Rafe, “What do I do?”

“You lie back, as Nijal did, so we cannot be seen; then you open your heart and your breeches to me,” Geraint gave Rafe a lazy but predatory smile.

He moved in on Rafe as he lay and started his ministrations. Being Rafe’s first time with Geraint, the old Warrior did his best to make it memorable. He took his time and used all of his subtler techniques and the most obvious ones, such as deep-throating. Rafe had a handsome cock, a little larger than average, with a slight upcurve. Its dusky colour, silky texture and its appealing aroma of pine forest combined to offer Geraint an enjoyable experience in sucking. Rafe expressed his gratitude in the way he stroked Geraints grey head. Not grasping or rough, his touch was gentle: Geraint could read a lot about a man from the way he accepted his cock being sucked, and Rafe’s demeanour pleased him. When the wanderer came, he kept silent, but his deep gasps signalled pleasure and excitement. Geraint kissed Rafe, who did not shy away from it, another point in his favour. Indeed, he returned the kiss.

‘A job well done,’ Geraint concluded to himself with satisfaction. He liked to take pride in his work.

*     *     *

Night fell, fortunately cloudless. The starlight was bright, and the air turned colder. The three stayed together, except when Geraint returned to the horses, watered and fed them and made them ready for travel. He returned to his post leading Myst and Shade and bearing food and drink for the other two men. The pack horses followed of their own will. He tied Shade nearby and sought out Nijal and Rafe.

“Any action?”

“Not yet,” said Nijal, “But soon, I hope.”

‘Soon’ was borne out because they heard the repeated sound of a horn blowing an alarm call from the keep shortly after. The sound carried well in the still air and echoed in the valley. Then the keep began to glow with lights. A streamer of light from multiple torches wound its way rapidly up the valley’s far side and disappeared in the forest before it reached the top.

The three men waited breathlessly. Presently they saw a small group of torches moving back down the main road and past the turnoff to the keep.

“That’s it!” said Nijal loudly, “We ride, now!”

They quickly sought out the horses.

“Let me lead you to the ford,” Rafe demanded.

“GO!” cried Nijal.

They moved as fast as they could down the darkened path. It seemed a long way to the ford, and they were desperate to get there in time. As the river’s roar reached them, they dimly discerned two figures on horseback standing uncertainly in the ford. Without hesitation, Rafe plunged across, with Geraint and Nijal following.

Nijal, with his excellent night vision, discerned that the oncoming riders were indeed Brynnan and Andri, but closing up to them, a party of riders were coming fast. He prayed that with Geraint and Rafe, he would reach them in time.