To Redeem His People

The Necromancer

In the morning, the three companions and the Diviner, Dronnadh, visited Prince Jehanadir in his chambers for a private goodbye. This time, Brynnan brought the dog, Ghost, and Shahin, the Prince’s boy, was immediately intrigued. He sat on the floor cushions and petted the shaggy beast.

“Where do you plan to go next?” the Prince asked.

“We were considering the City-State of Hesperon. Although, due to past events, it could post some risk for Brynnan,” said Nijal.

“Why? What happened?” said Jehanadir, frowning.

Geraint spoke, “Some years ago, Brynnan was sent by m’Lord Samir to root out a suspected traitor. At the time, we were at odds with rulers there. Sure enough, the traitor—one of our Council of Seven—exposed our Bard, and he consequently took an arrow in the back.”

Brynnan added, “Torrent Mountain’s relationship with Hesperon has always been unsettled, as they have no Redoubt of their own and covet ours, even though they are a large City-State.”

“Perhaps you might return directly to Torrent Mountain, then take a guard with you to Hesperon.”

“Yes, my Prince, that is a distinct possibility,” replied the Bard.

“In any case, I thank you all for what you have done here and for bringing me my newest Diviner, Dronnadh.

“I am staying here to serve Prince Jehanadir,” explained Dronnadh.

“That’s well done, my Brother,” said Nijal. “When the Invaders come, I am sure they will target the Redoubts. Prince, who has entry to the inner Redoubt here?” Nijal asked.

Jehanadir answered, “I do, also Kambiz, the Systems Master and the Records Master.”

“If you add Dronnadh, he will help you. He knows how the Redoubts work. You may want to make sure your people can shelter there if the Invaders threaten you.”

“I will do that, Nijal. Let us hope it does not come to pass,” answered the Prince.

They were interrupted by a low laugh from Shahin and panting noises. Shahin lay on the rug, wrestling with Ghost. The great dog lay on his side and pushed at Shahin’s stomach with his paws, loudly clacking his teeth in mock bites barely a finger-length away from the boy’s face.

Jehanadir’s eyes widened in alarm, and he stepped forward, but Brynnan restrained him.

“Hold, my Prince: Ghost absolutely will not hurt your boy! Let them play.”

Jehanadir’s shoulders relaxed, and he stood back. “The beast is bigger than Shahin. He looks so fearsome!”

“Look, my Lord!” cried Shahin to the Prince, “Ghost likes me!”

“Perhaps we should have introduced them earlier,” Brynnan remarked, and the others laughed.

As they turned to leave, Jehanadir said quietly to Brynnan, “Can you stay a short while? I have something I would say to you.”

Brynnan said, “Of course, my Prince. I am at your service.”

The Bard caught Geraint’s eye, who nodded at him in acknowledgement.

When there remained just Brynnan, the Prince, Shahin and Ghost, Jehanadir began to speak. “I realize that our physical interactions have been born out of necessity. Even so, when we did our healing, Shahin and I were most cruel to you, as we had to be.”

 Jehanadir looked down, gathering his thoughts. Shahin sat silent and attentive, one hand resting on Ghost’s shoulder.

“This is not how we feel. In fact, I have come to feel an affection for you. We have shared three journeys now: the spirit quest for the Source, the Divination of my land, and the terrible sexual healing trial we put you through.” Jehanadir stepped closer and touched Brynnan’s face with his fingertips.

“And then there was your defence of Shahin’s mind when the Watchers possessed him, at the risk of your own life. I cannot forget that. Thus, Shahin and I desire to give you the physical gift of our love before you leave. We give you this with an open hand. Shahin desires this as much as I do.”

Shahin spoke, “Please, Brynnan. Accept our gift.”

Brynnan paused, considering. Had the Prince really overcome his jealous tendencies? There was only one way to know. “I accept,” he said and smiled.

“We have a token for you,” said Jehanadir. He nodded at Shahin, who took a small box from a side table and opened it. Inside was an open gold ring with a small ball capping each end.

Shahin said. “It is for your cock.” The boy then stood and helped Brynnan undress. He took the ring and pushed it over the glans of Brynnan’s penis so that the opening encased the frenulum and the tiny golden balls pressed in. “It will enhance your sensations when you are sucked or when you masturbate,” he explained.

“So that you will remember our coming together with pleasure, not pain,” added Jehanadir.

Sunlight poured in the windows in the sleeping chamber. It illuminated the bodies of the Prince, the Bard, and the boy. Now all three were naked, and Brynnan admired Jehanadir’s strange comeliness:  Jehanadir’s body was slim but fit. His body hair was sparse—he wore no beard—so that he looked as if he were sculpted from marble. His blood-red hair touching his shoulders, violet eyes seeming to glow in the light, and his pale, blue-tinted skin, the result of ingesting the silver-containing Water of Life over many years, made him exotic.

And then there was Shahin. He was truly a golden boy with honey-coloured skin and long, wheat-gold hair, contrasting with his cool grey eyes. The features of his face reflected his Tagrest heritage, with the straight nose, sculpted jaw, and curving lips. His slender but muscular dancer’s body delighted the eye, and his cock hung large and full. His poise was reflected in his name: Shahin, ‘falcon.’

Both man and boy had a beauty that complemented each other’s, and at that moment, Brynnan desired them greatly.

Jehanadir stepped in front of him and kissed his mouth, wrapping his arms about the Bard. Brynnan responded, pressing his body close and accepting the probing tongue. He probed back and licked the Prince’s tongue as they drank of each other.

Shahin stepped up behind Brynnan and embraced the Bard’s body, gripping the crimson silk rope harness he wore and nibbling at Brynnan’s neck. Brynnan shivered. After a while, he turned in the Prince’s arms to face Shahin. Kissing the boy’s lips proved an exquisite experience: they were firm and warm. Brynnan gently put his tongue in the boy’s mouth and felt his tongue in return. Then Shahin moved to kiss Jehanadir and back to the Bard again.

At a murmured word from Jehanadir, Shahin, while keeping his arms around Brynnan, slid down his body until he was kneeling before the Bard’s cock, which he then took in his mouth. As Shahin sucked, the ring around the glans pressed into the cock, sending surges of pleasure through it. Brynnan moaned, even as the Prince kissed his mouth again.

The Prince and his boy continued to bring the Bard intense erotic joy. Brynnan was trying not to cum. But then he felt Jehanadir’s well-lubricated cock in his ass, this time sliding in slowly and without pain. It did not take long until, with a sense of inevitability, he ejaculated helplessly into Shahin’s practiced mouth; at the same time, he felt the Prince’s cock spasm in orgasm.

“Now you, Shahin,” said the Prince.

Jehanadir made Shahin stand while he and Brynnan, by mutual consent, knelt, licking, and sucking the boy’s prick in turns and pausing to kiss each other. Shahin soon came, and the two men lapped up his cum.  

Brynnan felt the bond between the three of them enfolding him again, but this time with a loving closeness that soothed his soul. He knew they had made a memory he would treasure.

*    *    *

Before they left the Narib Citadel, they spoke with Kambiz the Seneschal, directing him to create a group of people to spread the information concerning the Star Invaders.

“Don’t forget to check if people openly support, or have knowledge of, their coming. If so, it could mean their minds are infected. If you find that, inform Dronnadh, who can then speak to me mind-to-mind,” instructed Nijal.

“I don’t know how much Ghost and I disrupted the Watcher’s activities, but I have a feeling it was significant,” commented the Bard. He did not reveal further details of his encounter. His last one had nearly killed him.

“And I don’t understand how you interact with them, Brynnan; only that you do, and I am grateful,” said Kambiz.

“I believe I shall have to see to them again very soon to judge their danger. But I shall endeavour to take more precautions,” the Bard responded.

Geraint spoke, “You had better take care, Brynnan, my lad. Would that I could follow you with my sword. However, Lord Seneschal, I think Bertholf of the men of the Boar may be of use to you if you suspect minds have been taken, as well as talking with Dronnadh. He has his own power to ward against them.”

Kambiz nodded and replied, “We will use every source of help at hand. As long as my Prince remains safe.”

“And now, it is time we set on the road again,” said Nijal. “Expect communications from Torrent Mountain soon!”

“Farewell, and may you vanquish those that oppose you.”

*    *    *

Greening woodlands surrounded the small party as they headed towards the long trail out of the Narib region. They made their return route as direct as possible. Several days later, they turned Northeast.

They camped on an open hillside near a small tarn, or pool, as evening fell. The twilight sky cleared, showing emerging stars. Brynnan and Geraint were walking along the shoreline with Ghost when a movement in the heavens happened to catch Brynnan’s attention. A glint of light flared to the north, disclosing something tiny moving at great speed, but it was not a meteorite. Brynnan stood rooted to the spot. Racial memory or some other instinct told him what it was.

“Geraint, come! Let us reach Nijal. Did you see it, in the heavens?”

“I saw a speeding light. What was it?”

“Hurry!" urged Brynnan, "I suspect it is the Invaders, and we are too far from Torrent Mountain.”

They reached the tent, where Nijal was tending the fire outside.

“I saw it,” cried Nijal.

“I must cast my spirit-form to the heavens, Nijal. I have to know . . .”

“No time for long invocations. Come into the tent. Let me fuck you.” So saying, Nijal pulled Brynnan inside, where they rapidly stripped off their clothes. There was no time for elaborate foreplay, and Brynnan hoped he could get aroused quickly. He took the box with the glans ring from his pack and put it on. “Suck me,” he said to Nijal, who at once obliged.

Brynnan sought for a raw, erotic memory in his mind and thought back to the second time Lord Samir had made him suck his cock, where the Bard had become aroused despite himself and had admitted to being the Warlord’s bitch. It wasn’t the prettiest of memories, but it was intensely sexual, and the Bard could feel his own cock responding. Nijal continued to suck Brynnan’s cock while masturbating himself, beating his cock to time it with Brynnan’s responses. They came together, and Brynnan collapsed to his knees.

“Now!” he heard Nijal say as he was in the throes of orgasm, and his Shadow-spirit fled into the aether.

The encompassing Sound that was the voice of the Mother-of-All pulsed through his being. He hovered in the planet’s glow, darkness ahead of him, and his mind ranged through the stars. He sensed the Invader’s Mothership. It was here! It sped through the void in a high orbit, far from the world. But that was not what he had seen, he was sure. Casting his mind again, he perceived a smaller ship, barely recognizable of anything he could relate it to. But it was definitely man-made. Almost it reminded him of a spider with folded legs. Two great silver sails protruded from its back, and it cruised in lower orbit around the planet. Brynnan’s Shadow-spirit kept pace with its incredible speed so that the vessel suddenly assumed an apparent stillness.

The Bard knew it was headed for a planetary landing. He was loath to follow it as he knew it would once again involve the sensation of being consumed by fire. But there were other ways. He switched into another awareness and sought out Alsar minds: Guardian minds. The construct that presented itself to his mind was a field of fireflies winking in a black night. There were so many! Focusing, he discerned Nijal’s mind. Then, further out, Dronnadh’s. He brushed against him, and Dronnadh became aware.

Brynnan felt the pulse of acknowledgement. ‘I hear you.’ Dronnadh seemed to say. The Bard formed his thoughts into a coherent whole: his sighting the ship and the knowledge that the Invaders were fast approaching. Then he put it into Dronnadh’s mind.

‘Find out where it lands. Help me spread the message to the other Alsar,’ he thought to the Diviner and received an affirmative.

His thoughts turned to his own Lord and heart’s love, the Warlord, Samir. If only he could reach his mind! He tried with all the power he possessed and actually caught a sense of him, but the images were vague and misty. He received the impression that his Lord was asleep. Despite that, he reached out to the sleeping mind, calling his Lord’s name, trying to warn him . . .

Next, he sought out the mind of Neven-Tanet, the Grand Master of the Ruithin College at the ArMor-ys Redoubt in his homeland. The Master was meditating, and his mind was opened. He and Brynnan had established a previous mind-bond and to reach him was not too difficult. The communication skill depended on forming mental picture-dialogues that could rapidly and accurately convey his thoughts. The Grand Master was quietly attentive and did not question Brynnan. However, the Bard did send a brief query to Neven-Tanet concerning his apprentice, Andri. He received a response indicating that Andri and his lover Col were thriving.

He was becoming spiritually exhausted, but he was not yet done. He sought the Mothership. Then he was beside it in the void, and his mind ranged to see what thoughts or signals it could catch. He aimed himself at the Watcher’s hall but did not fully engage. The echoes of the Watchers’ minds were not as strong as formerly.

A mind-voice suddenly caught his attention. ‘Mind-That-Is-Called-Shadow. I sense you. Engage with me, not those you call the Watchers. I am Ruh-çağıran Natan. We know you are from Ahiret. You haunt us, but we will find you. The Summoners will take you.’

Brynnan sensed this new mind’s power. It was in a different category altogether from the Watchers. This new power, this Ruh-çağıran Natan, continued to call to him.

‘Well, I am here,’ Brynnan thought to himself and moved into the ship. He felt a shifting as if he were standing on the ground during a violent earthquake, and a black chamber appeared around him. Extending an arm, Brynnan saw that he was not just a Presence but actually had a Shadow-form, a ghost-like semblance of himself.

He faced a man, thin, attenuated, but definitely a man. A tall form in red and silver, he wore a complicated harness with small devices attached to it. Oddly, he wore a necklace of small bones. He looked at Brynnan.

'At last, I see a form. I know that Shadow is not your name. I know you have a name. We have learned much from the minds we have entered.' 

If he wanted to elicit a comment from the Bard, he was denied it. Brynnan projected no thoughts to the man but waited to see what else he would disclose. He knew how interrogations worked.

'We will come on-planet, and when we summon you, you shall not resist.” Ruh-çağıran Natan said. “Even now—' He abruptly stopped speaking and frowned, then reached towards one of the devices on his harness.

Brynnan quickly dissolved his form and drew back out into the void. He had learned enough. He envisioned his own body, focusing on the torc it wore; the torc of King Arawn, and also on the ring that encircled his cock and on the rope harness with its three knots. He could feel his spirit being drawn inexorably towards its physical home, but it was not enough. He invoked the three brand-runes: Eternity, Wind and Night. Suddenly, he saw his body lying in the embrace of Nijal.

‘Guardian, welcome me in,’ he thought at Nijal.

Nijal must have heard the thought, for he touched the brand-runes on Brynnan's chest and called him home. With a sliding sensation, Brynnan’s spirit slipped within his body. He rested there.

“What is happening? Is he unconscious? At least he is not burned this time,” said Geraint as he knelt anxiously beside the Guardian.

“Don’t worry, my friend," assured Nijal, "he is merely asleep. He will wake very shortly. Go brew up some chai, and we will come out and share a drink. Then we can ask him about this journey.”

“Keep an eye on him then,” ordered Geraint, concern still colouring his voice.

Not too long afterwards, Brynnan awoke, dressed, and he and Nijal joined Geraint. He told them the bare bones of his interactions.

“So perhaps I reached my Lord Samir in a lucid dream. I hope so. And I also reached the Grand Master in my home Redoubt. He says that Andri is with Col and the two boys thrive. Amidst the stress of my Shadow-journey, that heartened me.”

“But the Invaders are imminent. I wish we could walk the swift tracks that connect the Shadow Realms and just arrive at Torrent Mountain without waiting.”

“Surely you aren’t seriously suggesting that!” said Geraint. “I would not survive it.”

“My heart just speaks out loud, yearning for my Lord. Perhaps . . . but wait! This man that I encountered, this Ruh-çağıran Natan – just 'Natan,' I will call him; he referred to me as being from Ahiret. The word is in an ancient tongue and refers to the realm one encounters after death. It is where I lead the souls of the dead . . .” he shivered. “I believe our Natan might be a necromancer!”

“But I thought that these Invaders were all about a superior working with machines that they will use to take control of us,” stated Geraint.

“I still believe that is so, that they will use their advanced technology. But if the Invaders have people who perform necromancy and deal with spirits, I am in worse danger than I thought, and so is my Father, King Arawn. Natan just about announced that he would be arriving on-planet and that I would be summoned, treated like a spirit of the dead. If they do have that power, we are all in grave trouble.”

“In what way?” asked Geraint.

“We thought and planned that we must defend the living on this planet against the Invaders. And now we learn that we must also fight for the dead,” said Brynnan. “Our troubles just got worse.”

*    *    *