To Redeem His People

First Landing

Brynnan was awakened in the night by the call of a raven, croaking repeatedly. He felt called. He slid out from between Nijal and Geraint and walked naked into the night. A dark bird silhouette perched on a nearby rock. The raven croaked again and shook its wings. It was not a natural being but a shadow carrier, or guardian creature.

Brynnan knelt in the grass and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he looked from the raven’s eyes. They flew from the rock. The raven-form fitted Brynnan like a glove, and he urged himself to travel fast—much faster than any natural speed. His enhanced eyesight showed him the land: sweeping hills and the beginnings of a dense forest. He passed in an instant. Something was pulling him along; a destination of importance.

A city materialized in the distance, and he sped towards it, recognizing its outline as the city of Hesperon. Before he reached it, a silver object distracted him. An open space showed a thing he knew was the Invader’s small landing ship outside the city. Around it, the ground was burned. He alighted beside the vessel.

He could discern voices. An opening appeared in the ship, and a light bloomed. The figures that exited looked human but were very thin and encased in armoured suits like chitinous plates. They wore masks.

A party of men from the city came to meet them, and Brynnan recognized their leader. Pentayn Tyreth, head of the Council of the Hesperon city-state. The man who had sheltered a traitor from Torrent Mountain and had caused Brynnan to be hunted. Involuntarily, Brynnan’s warden spirit uttered a croak, and the people gathered heard him. The Bard realized he was visible to them. The men talked and gestured, and one of the Invaders pointed a hand at the raven. A thin blue beam shot forth, piercing the bird instantly. Brynnan absorbed the energy and shifted himself into the Shadow-realm. He shifted out again, positioning himself in the ship’s open door. Amidst the consternation, the man who fired the beam at him raised his hand again, but a companion restrained him. Brynnan understood his speech.

“You will harm our ship!” he said.

“But what is it? It looks like a bird, but it must be some artifact or machine of these people.”

“It absorbed the energy. Maybe these people are more advanced than we thought.”

“But the natives look confused also. Perhaps it’s a spy drone from an enemy.”

Then Pentayn Tyreth called out, “Kill it! It may be a Sending.”

Brynnan could not restrain himself. He launched into the air and flew straight at Tyreth’s face. But when they connected, he passed right through the man’s head. The Lord cried out, raising his arms in a protective gesture. Brynnan kept on flying.

He returned to the camp, noting the route back. Landing on the rock again, he cried out, and blackness obscured his vision. Opening his eyes again, he was in his own body stretched prostrate on the ground, and the dog, Ghost, lay against him, warming his body. When he turned to look for the raven, it was gone.

He was still lying there when Nijal came out from the tent, carrying Brynnan’s cloak. He knelt beside the Bard.

“I felt your spirit return,” Nijal said. “What happened?”

“I travelled in my guardian spirit form—as a raven. I found the ship we saw in the sky. It has landed at Hesperon. The Invaders wear supporting armament, and one of them fired an energy beam at me, a thin blue light. When it struck me, I absorbed it, and it actually increased my power in that form.”

“So, they have weapons and are not afraid to use them or demonstrate their abilities. They also acted impulsively. Not good. As for their armour, you must understand that our planet’s gravity affects them. The ArMor-ys Redoubt records tell us that the first of your Ancestors travelled countless years through the void, and most of the living beings on board were in a deep sleep.”

“I fear them landing these small ships at every city, and waves of Invaders emerging. How can we counter them all?” said Brynnan, absently stroking Ghost’s head.

“There is an answer to be found, I am sure of it,” Nijal reassured him.

“The Invaders were met by Pentayn Tyreth himself. I think he will treat with them, and maybe even ally himself. We must change our travel plans and go there,” replied Brynnan.

“I fear you are right.”

Nijal led the weary Bard into the tent, and he lay down beside Geraint’s stout and furry body, with Nijal lying on his other side.

Nijal leaned over and kissed him without saying a word, and Brynnan submitted himself to the kiss, reciprocating with his mouth and tongue. That turned into several kisses before Nijal worked his way down the Bard’s body, pausing to lick and suck his erect nipples. Brynnan’s cock responded by stiffening.

The Guardian stroked his lover’s body hair down to his groin, and his hand encircled the cock’s erect shaft. Nijal began to massage it. Copious pre-cum oozed from the shapely head of Brynnan’s cock, and Nijal used it to lubricate the shaft, sliding his hand up and down. Then he moved his head over and licked the tip of the cock, swirling his tongue around the glans before taking it in his mouth. Brynnan moaned in pleasure as Nijal sucked his cock and worked to swallow it ever deeper. He massaged his lover’s tight ball sack, feeling the round testicles within.

“I’m going to cum,” Brynnan groaned. “Suck me, Nijal.”

Nijal obliged, sucking even harder until Brynnan ejaculated in his mouth. The Guardian swallowed then kept his mouth still over the spasming, sensitized cock, as the Bard breathed a deep sigh of satisfaction.

“You know how to help me recover, dear friend. Thank you.”

*    *    *

They changed their heading to a more southerly direction, following the route Brynnan had spied out in his Raven form. They encountered aurochs herders and their long-horned beasts. They spent a night at the herders’ campfires and were offered fresh milk to drink and cheese. Brynnan played his harp for them in return before warning the herdsmen of the Invaders.

One evening on an open plain, they watched a storm on the far horizon. Lightning flashed in the low mass of distant storm clouds, illuminating the whole from within. But above it, the occasional flares of brilliant red ‘sprite’ activity appeared far above the storm in the clear sky. They lasted only an instant, but Brynnan, half-stepping into the Shadow Realm, where time was malleable, could see them as slowly branching torches starting with a base of blue-violet light that rapidly evolved into scarlet fan-shaped pillars. But he wondered about the sprites’ energy and thought of the blue beam of light the Invader had fired at his Warden-Raven Spirit.

At last, they reached a place where the spires of Hesperon showed against the sky. They stopped by a river and made camp. The evening was mild, and Brynnan was glad to join his friends bathing in the river. They gathered afterwards around a small fire, although there was little chance of being spotted as the river ran between low hills and woodland clad its banks.

Holding council with one another, they planned their actions.

“Maybe Nijal and I should go into the citadel first,” said Geraint. “They might recognize you, Brynnan.”

“I am counting on it,” the Bard replied. “I will speak to Pentayn Tyreth.”

“But what of the Invaders?” persisted the old Warrior. “If you annoy them, they might attack you with their strange weapon!”

“I am counting on that, too. Let the Lord and his Council see what creatures they have invited into their midst.”

“You are counting on being killed? From what you told us, there was no time to escape their fire.” Geraint looked both angry and worried.

“There are a couple of things I can try. I might use a chimera of myself, a kind of sending. Or I might simply stand before them,” Brynnan replied.

Geraint threw up his hands. “I don’t know what to do with you. When m’Lord Samir said to me, ‘Geraint, look after my Bard and make sure harm does not come to him,’ I simply thought I could draw my sword and stand before you, but you are impossible!”

Nijal leaned forward, touching the old Warrior’s arm. “But we know we must confront both Pentayn Tyreth and his Council as well as the Invaders. One way or another, we must ‘bite the arrow,’ as it were.”

“Alright,” sighed Geraint. “I’ll follow your lead, Brynnan, lad, even through my heart’s misgivings. But do you have any plan for where we will go when we enter the city? We must find a place for the horses.”

“There’s a large trader’s compound, just outside of the Sunrise Gate,” replied Brynnan. “They have rooms for the traders, storage compartments, and stalls for their beasts, plus it is safe and would be easy to leave from. No city guards patrol the place—the traders look after their own.”

“What about Ghost. Will he behave himself?” asked Nijal.

“I will leave Ghost to act as the situation demands,” replied the Bard. “He is our ally.”

Geraint shook his head, then said, “As a plan, it is exceedingly risky and doesn’t cover contingencies, but I see few better options.”

Brynnan said, “Remaining safe isn’t our priority, so much as confronting Tyreth’s Council and the Invaders.”

“These creatures from the stars do not give me much reassurance of having a successful parlay,” the old Warrior replied.

“We simply do what we can,” said Nijal.

After their supper, both Nijal and Geraint sharpened their swords while Brynnan played upon his harp, Mavrenn. As the fire burned to coals and starry darkness wrapped them, Geraint happened to look up.

“Look! What is there?” he exclaimed, pointing at the Northern sky.

Brynnan and Nijal stared at the strange sight. Tiny beads of bright light stitched themselves in a single line, heading across the sky. Even as they watched, the spaces between the objects widened. They glinted in the light of an invisible sun and disappeared.

“More ships?” queried Nijal.

“I don’t know,” Brynnan replied. “Quick, Nijal, come help me. I must go see. You too, old Warrior. . .”

They entered the tent and stripped. Ghost lay outside the tent door, keeping watch, as had become his accustomed duty. But the three men lay down on the bedding, and both Nijal and Geraint started to caress and kiss the Bard.

“Let me take you, Nijal,” said Brynnan.

The Guardian quickly complied, lying on his back. Brynnan positioned himself between Nijal’s legs and bent down to suck his cock. It became hard in his mouth. He moved up to suck Nijal’s nipples, then they kissed.

“Take me now, my dear friend,” said Nijal.

Brynnan reared back, and Geraint took lubricant and rubbed it over both Nijal’s and Brynnan’s cocks. Brynnan pushed against Nijal’s ass, and the head of his stiff rod entered.

“Deeper,” instructed the Guardian.

Brynnan complied and began to thrust in and out. Meanwhile, Geraint continued to stroke Nijal’s cock, carefully timing it with Brynnan’s actions. It was basic fucking, but effective. In short order, the Bard announced his intention to cum. As he climaxed. Geraint expertly manipulated Nijal’s hard cock so that cum creamed out over the old Warrior’s hand.

“Now!” called out Nijal, and Brynnan collapsed forward into the Guardian’s arms, his Shadow-spirit already fled.

Stars and darkness once more surrounded his form. He drew himself to the Invaders’ mothership in its far orbit. He viewed the surface of the monstrous vessel with its hexagonal patterning and the raised tetrahedral structures on all sides of its skin. One such cluster opened, and a stream of silver objects shot forth.

Brynnan understood that they were small compared to the landing vessel. As they moved out from the ship, each one deployed four silver sails. Brynnan consulted the knowledge of the first mothership that he had absorbed in the ArMor-ys Redoubt and realized that they were some sort of ‘eyes’ most likely used to scan his world. The thought both alarmed and chilled him.

He began to feel a Mind from the ship probing the aether, trying to seek him out, and Brynnan immediately disengaged.

He returned to his body and awoke in Nijal’s arms. He explained what he had seen.

Nijal was duly concerned. “I think you are correct in assuming these are sensors or ‘eyes’ that can discern on-planet activity. They could possibly see us, even to our faces. I must contact my Alsar brothers, and we can attempt to interrupt their signals and disable them.”

Geraint looked puzzled. “I understand little of what you’re saying, Nijal, other than the things that we saw are spies. If you can kill them, well and good.”

“If we are to arrive in Hesperon tomorrow, I will not have the energy to react now, but give me time to contact my Alsar brothers and sisters in the aether, and they can start the work. We have done this before in ages past.”

“Go now,” said Brynnan, “and we will keep watch over you.”

Nijal closed his eyes.

*    *    *

Morning came, and the companions were tired after their night’s work, but the city of Hesperon called them.

However, things still had to be done in due order. One of the first events was for Brynnan to thank Geraint. They still maintained this ritual, as Lord Samir had commanded Brynnan, and for the Bard, it was his personal bonding time with the old Warrior.

The early dawn was fair and mild. The scents of the spring woodland perfumed the air, even as a light frost melted on the grass. Brynnan, washed but not yet dressed, knelt in the open air in front of his Keeper. He kissed Geraint’s bare feet (he, too, was naked) and, grasping Geraint’s hairy ass with both hands, kissed his heavy cock with its broad mushroom head and licked his ball sack. He thus teased Geraint for a short time until the Warrior reached down, grasping his stiffening cock with one hand and Brynnan’s hair with the other hand, feeding his cock into the Bard’s mouth. Brynnan laughed as he took it. Geraint growled in mock ferocity.

“Tease me any longer, and I will give you a good ass-fucking,” he said.

Nijal, who was gathering the horses and securing packs, interrupted, “We do not want to delay overlong, my friends.”

But Geraint responded, “Considering the danger we approach, I think I just might take this one’s ass. Who knows when we’ll get our next chance?”

“You have a point,” conceded the Guardian.

Brynnan continued to suck Geraint’s cock until the old Warrior pulled out. “I’ll be merciful and spare your back on the cold ground. Get on all fours like the good hound that you are.”

Nijal, barely missing a beat in his packing, wordlessly passed Geraint their dwindling bottle of lubricant, and Geraint poured some on his cock and on Brynnan’s ass. He fingered his lover, even as he stroked his own cock, priming it with the slippery liquid. Then he pushed it in Brynnan’s ass. The Bard sighed and took it in. Geraint now gripped Brynnan’s hips and began to fuck him hard. “Let’s make it real,” he growled.

Brynnan closed his eyes and tossed his head, taking every inch of the firm cock and revelling in his lust for it. “This morning, I am yours, my Keeper. I’ll take what you give.”

“Oh, I am giving it, all right!” Geraint pumped harder until he was pounding Brynnan’s ass and the Warrior’s heavy testicles slapped against his thighs. “I am giving it . . . now!”  With that, he came into the Bards ass, growling his bear-growl.

Pulling out, he instructed the Bard, “Turn over. Jerk yourself off and let me watch you cum.”

Brynnan obeyed as Geraint stroked his own cum-soaked prick. Suddenly, Geraint said, “Do it now: I am cumming again!” Seeing Brynnan ejaculate, cum shooting out, Geraint’s cock spasmed, and more cum covered his hand. He cried out fiercely.

After they had recovered themselves, Geraint seized Brynnan’s wrist and pulled him to his feet. “Come, Hound of Samir, let’s go to the river for a nice, bracing wash.”

Nijal smiled and shook his head as they left. He continued packing. The fun was over, and now Hesperon remained before them.

*    *    *