To Redeem His People

Reunion Of The Heart

The trail leading to Scarfell Pass came into view. It had been almost seven moons since the companions had been here before when the year had been dying. Now it was spring, and the season would have been full of hope were it not for the seriousness of their mission. But hope was in Brynnan’s heart – hope that he would finally be reunited with the Warlord Samir again.

Nijal pulled up and dismounted. He searched the road about them.

“A troop of about thirty horsemen has recently passed this way, perhaps last night. No wagons. Large horses carrying weight. Most of them wear horseshoes. It could be those we are looking for,” he said.

“If they aren’t our friends, we’ll be greatly outnumbered,” replied Geraint, frowning. “I think we should assume they are by the lower lake, where m’Lord’s party camped last time. Let’s go ahead with caution. When we are closer, I propose Nijal go on alone on foot since he can move silently and quickly. Look out for guards, Nijal. You know where m’Lord Samir would post his.”

“Seems reasonable to me,” Brynnan said with a shrug. “Do you want to take Ghost with you, Nijal?”

“No. Ghost had best stay as your guard. He can protect you both against almost anything,” Nijal replied.

“Nevertheless, I’ll keep my sword loose in its scabbard. And my bow will be strung,” said Geraint. “Brynnan, you will also keep your bow at hand.”

Brynnan shuddered. “Unless they are enemies bent on destroying us, I shall be reluctant to use it. But I shall be ready.”

The companions continued on their way.

Nijal went on alone sometime later, leaving behind his silver horse, Myst. Geraint and Brynnan waited in a dense grouping of pine trees, unspeaking. Presently, Ghost stood up, ears pricked forward.

“Nijal returns,” whispered the Bard.

Nijal came through the trees and beckoned to them. He had an enigmatic smile on his face. When they arrived at the first guard post on the trail, two men and a youth rode down to meet them.

Brynnan was greatly surprised. “Kyros!” he called. “Alaric!”

Kyros smiled, “Well met, Bard of Samir’s! You did not tell us you are his erômenos. ”

And Alaric, one of the Warlord’s guards, exclaimed, “Brynnan Marec Mavrenn, as I live and breathe!”

Kyros was of the Brotherhood of Deieros, that band of warriors, erastai, and their younger male lovers, erômenoi, whom Brynnan and his friends had encountered on the high plains. Kyros had engaged in sex—not entirely consensual—with Brynnan, but they had later become friends of a sort.

“Meet my erômenos, Orion. We met at our new holding. A splendid young lad, is he not?”

The handsome, dark-haired youth, Orion, gave his erastês, Kyros, a wryly affectionate look, even as he bowed to the companions.

“But please, let us not delay you,” said Alaric, gesturing for them to continue on.

Brynnan felt a sense of deep anticipation when they finally arrived at the lake. He viewed tents clustered in the clearing and horses.

“Look, my friends!” he said, his heart leaping, “There is Malpaisan!”

Lord Samir’s stallion was on a long tether by himself, as he was a warhorse and touchy with other stallions. But Brynnan dismounted and approached.

Malpaisan whickered in affectionate recognition as the Bard stroked the horse’s bronze neck. He didn’t even realize Ghost was by his side until the stallion bent his noble head and snuffled air at the dog. Ghost sniffed the horse’s black, velvety nose, wagging his tail in return.

“I see you have a new friend—a true dog of war indeed!” said a deep and very familiar voice behind him.

Brynnan’s heart stopped, and a wave of heat flooded his body.

“My Lord!” he said simply and turned. The Warlord Samir stood before him. Brynnan stepped forward and embraced him. He revelled in the incredible feeling of Samir’s strong arms around his body again. He suddenly felt as if his life had just been saved, and he struggled to keep back the tears that threatened.

Samir then held his shoulders and regarded his Bard, staring deeply into his eyes. “I am looking for that Raven I encountered,” he said. “You look . . . different.”

“I am changed, my Lord. I have been through much. Especially, I have not been able to keep myself wholly yours—”

“That is of little matter. Both necessity and accident have taken their due, I am sure. What matters is that you are here and alive.”

“Geraint always has done his duty to you in protecting me, but I did not make it easy for him. He is a faithful man, Lord.”

“I know it. We have so much to talk about, but I want to be alone with you. Can you bear to hold off until tonight? Now we should share our news with the others, although I suspect it will take more than a day to do so. We must focus on the salient events.”

“Have you experienced any intrusions into your mind? The Invaders tried very hard to take over my thoughts.”

“Not in the sense you mean, Brynnan, but there are other events—but come, we will speak of this later.” They walked towards the camp.

“I see Kyros from the Brotherhood is with you. I told Strategos Arcturus, their leader, you might accept their service.”

There are ten of the Brotherhood here. Arcturus remains at their new home with the others. When they came, I took them to Redstone Holding, where they helped me and my men clean out that nest. Yes, I heard from the residents there that you and young Andri had been captives. I also rescued that little page, Arton. I have given Redstone over to the Brotherhood of Deieros to be their own stronghold. The remainder of their fellows joined them just a moon ago. I think they will be good allies, and I may establish such a body among my own troops.”

“So you know of Andri’s defection. He followed us, you know.”

“Much to the distress of the Music Master. I hope he was punished.”

“Yes, indeed he was. But now he is safe—well, as safe as anyone can be these days—and ensconced in my own ArMor-ys Redoubt at the Ruithin College. Apparently, he thrives.”

They reached the circle of campfires before the tents where Nijal and Geraint sat with the soldiers. Both came over to meet Lord Samir. He clasped arms with them and enfolded Geraint in a crushing embrace, returned by the old Warrior.

“I am glad to see you two survived. Geraint, old friend, I have missed you. I hope the Bard did not cause you too much trouble,” said Samir.

“M’Lord, you have no idea. He ran me ragged. But, as you say, we have survived thus far, although danger surrounds us on every side.”

The Warlord looked grim for a moment. “I know.” Then he called out to his Guards, “Where is Alanus?”

The Captain of the Guard responded, “Here, my Lord. What is your wish?”

“Call Cadmus and others of the Deianeros, and my warrior chiefs. I want to start the council immediately. Other considerations can wait.”

“At once, Lord.”

The assembled leaders and warriors seated themselves in a circle, while Danan, the soldier designated as cook, served drink and food. Ghost lay down at Brynnan’s feet, attracting some alarmed glances.

At Samir’s invitation, Brynnan began. “My Lord and Warriors, I will summarize the salient points of each encounter with regards to the coming of the Invaders. We were able to find certain proofs at the ArMor-ys Redoubt, and that material has been propagated, by us or others so designated, to the various regions.”

Brynnan continued on to describe their interactions, holding his audience spellbound with his adventures. Occasionally he invited Geraint and Nijal to add their stories. He did not speak much of the supernatural events that had befallen him: those would be shared with Samir later.

The sun was falling in the sky when he told about the events in Hesperon. “And so, the Hesperon Council say they will be entreating us for peace and an alliance. But we are not at Torrent Mountain yet, my Lord, where the Council of Seven may have their say.”

“General Mirza takes my part while I am away and can forge an alliance.” But Samir looked troubled. “Brynnan: my friends Nijal and Geraint; there is something else you must know. I have been approached by an emissary from the Star Invaders, a certain Leader Ilchi.”

Brynnan felt cold as he listened.

“They have not attempted to penetrate my mind but use words and reason. I have played along to an extent, promising nothing but seeking to learn more about this ambassador and his designs. But in light of what you three have just told me about Hesperon, and Pentayn Tyreth’s death, we fall deeper into danger.”

“Does this Ilchi wear a bracelet, my Lord,” asked Nijal.

“He does. Little did I think it contained such power until Brynnan warned me. When Ilchi is tired of toying with me, he could strike without a moment’s notice.”

“If only I could get him in my sights . . .” said Brynnan.

“That may be doubly dangerous now,” said Geraint. “We are sure that the remaining Invaders at Hesperon will have communicated with their fellows, and by this time, Ilchi may know all, including the part you played.”

Lord Samir spoke, “I am going to call a halt to our council at this time. There is more to be told. But let you and I ride higher up the trail in the morning, my Bard, and I will talk privately with you then.”

“My Lord, do not go alone! Let me at least guard you!” insisted Geraint.

“Yes, I may do just that. But now, Geraint, I have a different task for you. Bring some hot water and your kit and attend Brynnan and me. I would retire.”

The three men walked into the trees, attended by Kyros as a guard, while they prepared themselves. After, they swam in the lake. Though the water was cold, Brynnan revelled in it. Anticipation gripped him: he and his Lord were to be together!

Naked but cloaked, Brynnan and Samir entered his tent, along with Ghost, whom Brynnan set as their guard. The tent was large enough for standing headroom. A curtain separated the outer area from the inner sleeping one, where a pallet with furs and sheets occupied the carpeted ground.

Almost quietly, Samir took Brynnan in his arms and kissed him. He unfastened Brynnan’s cloak and let it fall as he loosed his own cloak. He gazed on the Bard’s body and ran a finger over the three branded runes on Brynnan’s chest: Eternity, Wind and Night. He looked at the knots on the rope harness.

“Let me take it off. It is time.”

Brynnan had mixed feelings as Samir unknotted the harness with practiced fingers. He waited patiently until the task was done, and Samir coiled up the rope and set it aside. There were lighter lines on Brynnan’s skin where it had been placed, but now Samir more closely examined the brand marks.

“Who did this to you?”

“My dear Lord, it will take too long to explain. We will be up half the night.”

“Tomorrow, then. But I will want a full account of all the hidden things I sense you could not tell me at the fire.”

He turned Brynnan around regarding the scars on his back and ran a hand down them. Then he suddenly embraced Brynnan and slid to his knees. Brynnan felt his lust rising like a tide as Samir rimmed his ass. The Warlord’s skillful tongue probed, eliciting moans of pleasure from the Bard. Samir turned him around. He licked the Bard’s cock slowly before taking it in his mouth. Brynnan simply surrendered: he stood passively, letting the Warlord use him as he wished. Samir gripped his ass-cheeks tightly as he gave long slow pulls of his mouth over the cock. He kept up a steady rhythm, and Brynnan felt his ejaculation at hand.

“Permission to cum, my Master?”

Samir let him know by sucking harder. As the wave crest built, Brynnan simply let go, and an intense orgasm bathed him, flaring out from his cock to encompass his whole body. His knees felt weak. Samir pulled him down upon the pallet, where fragrant grasses had been stacked under the furs, making the bed soft. He moved in behind Brynnan, who lay on his side with one leg bent forward to allow the Warlord better access to his ass.

Samir took a bottle of lubricant and poured it on his cock and on Brynnan’s ass. He coaxed and teased at the anus using his fingers until his hand was buried to the wrist. Brynnan moaned in an intense please mixed with pain. He felt the pressure massaging his prostate, and the urge to cum again filled him. Before this could happen, however, Samir withdrew his fist, replacing it with the head of his huge cock. He pushed it in, and Brynnan gasped.

“I am your slave, my Lord, don’t hold back, I beg you!”

Samir growled in lust, biting at the back of Brynnan’s neck as he thrust in hard. There was no gentle acclimation; there was only need. The Warlord’s thrusts were intense, almost brutal, but he knew what his lover required, and right now, Brynnan only wanted to be owned completely.

Lord Samir took a long time in his strokes, repeatedly bringing himself to the brink of orgasm, then backing off. Brynnan felt thoroughly undone, lost in a place where there was only a haze of lust and a feeling of closeness with Samir’s soul.

Then there was no holding back. Samir unleashed himself in a lust that was almost a fury, pounding into Brynnan’s ass.

“Please, my Lord, please . . .” Brynnan was helpless to stop the tears flowing down his face.

“Take it, my Bitch,” the Warlord growled.

His cumming was so forceful, Brynnan could feel each shot of ejaculate in his ass and the spasms of Samir’s engorged cock. He was lost in ecstasy so profound, like drowning, and he did not want to swim to that surface. However, he began to regain awareness and felt Samir’s powerful arms around him. The Warlord’s hand played with the silky hairs on Brynnan’s chest and absently pinched his erect nipples.

“We will rest awhile, my lover, and then I will take you again,” said Samir. “You’ll get no mercy from me this night!”

“Please do not spare me, my heart’s love. It has been too long.”

”Don’t worry. I will not spare you.”

*    *    *

Early in the morning, Samir and Brynnan went outside to relieve themselves. When they returned, Geraint had brought hot water. He set it beside the bowl on the folding table in the outer part of the tent, along with towels. Samir reached over and kissed the old Warrior.

“Let me clean you two up, m’Lord,” Geraint said. He attended his Lord first before he turned to Brynnan, “Think you’ll be able to ride today, lad?”

Brynnan laughed. “I will suffer in silence. Would that I had this blessѐd pain every day if it meant I could be with my Lord!”

When Geraint had finished, Brynnan turned to the Warlord. “May I thank Geraint for his care?”

“Certainly,” smiled Samir. “Come into the sleeping area where I can watch you.”

Before entering the inner tent, Samir reached down to where Ghost was lying and stroked the dog’s head. Ghost accepted the touch with canine dignity and wagged his tail.

“A fine beast. You must tell me later how you acquired him. He guarded us well. Is he always so silent?”

“Trust me, my Lord. His bark is loud enough to cause a great disturbance. It’s best he stay silent unless there is need.”

Samir lifted the curtain and settled himself on the bed. Geraint followed Brynnan inside and loosened his clothing while Brynnan sank to his knees. The old Warrior pulled out his thick member and stood patiently while the Bard addressed himself to his task.

“I see you have gained much skill in sucking, my Bard,” the Warlord commented, stroking himself.

“He’s been well-practiced in gratitude,” Geraint agreed.

After a short while, Samir said, “I feel that I, too, must thank you for your care, old friend. Come over here and bring Brynnan with you.”

So Geraint stood with a smile on his face as both the Warlord and his lover sucked the old Warrior’s cock. Both men worked on the shaft, taking turns sucking it until Geraint announced his desire to cum.

“Go ahead, my friend. I will take it first, then Brynnan may clean you off.”

Samir plied his own considerable skills until, with a cry, Geraint came in his mouth. Brynnan moved in when Samir released the throbbing cock, licking the cum and taking the remaining drops. Then he submitted himself to Samir’s kiss. The Warlord then stood and kissed his old friend deeply.

“We will fuck soon,” he told Geraint.

“I hope we shall,” Geraint replied, straightening his clothes. “But now I’ll get Danan to give us food, then I’ll saddle the horses.”

Brynnan felt trepidation towards their journey up the mountain to the waterfall. He felt unease, yet he needed to be truly alone with Samir. There were things of grave import he must try and explain, but would the Warlord understand?

*    *    *