To Redeem His People

Resurrection

The Necromancer, Ruh-çağıran Natan, called from the tomb entrance, “Leader Ilchi, send in the Warlord, Samir.”

Leader Ilchi’s brows drew together in a frown. He looked to the Warlord. “Go, but do nothing without the Ruh-çağıran’s instructions. Any untoward action on your part can jeopardize our entire alliance. Think very carefully of what you do.”

“I will merely attend. The alliance is also important to me.”

He approached the Mound. Although the entrance glimmered in the darkening sky, it revealed nothing. Steeling himself, he stepped inside. The smell of raw earth and stone came to him but nothing else. Natan stood at the side of a raised pallet on which lay the body of Samir’s beloved, Brynnan. The harp, Mavrenn, had been placed behind his head. The Necromancer’s small, white orb gave a minimal light.

The body seemed uncorrupted, but the skin of its face and hands appeared white, frozen, and bloodless. Otherwise, it lay in seeming repose, hands resting at its sides.

If Samir could feel his emotions, he was convinced they would have been overwhelming and untenable. As it was, his hands trembled slightly.

“Are you going to destroy the body?” he asked the Necromancer.

“Wait. And watch,” the Ruh-çağıran replied.

A wind sprang up and blew into the opening of the tomb, swirling around the chamber. It whipped up the Necromancer’s long hair. The harp sounded, a faint ripple of strings singing wind-born notes.

The temperature dropped. As Samir gazed in awe, the whiteness of the corpse’s face changed. A very faint flush bloomed on the skin, and the hollow planes of the face seemed to fill out.

Ruh-çağıran Natan abruptly stumbled backwards against the wall of the tomb. “No! It cannot be!” he hissed, and his expression was one of stark fear.

Samir felt a strange hope filling him, more knowledge than feeling, but he recalled the Necromancer’s warning of an unclean spirit possessing the body. He could see the chest rising and falling as the corpse reanimated very faintly. He stepped closer, looking down on the Bard’s face.

It opened its eyes. They were not the filmy, white eyes of death, but a deep brown, and Samir saw in them the living flame of life—Brynnan’s life!

Brynnan sat upright. He swung himself off the pallet with apparent ease

“It is not possible . . .” whispered the Necromancer.

Samir swiftly took him in a chokehold before he could raise his arm to fire.

Brynnan regarded the man. “Beware, stealer-of-souls, lest I steal yours.

He stepped softly to the end of the pallet and took up the harp. He began to play, the harp sounding rich and sweet. When he started to sing, Samir had no doubt it was really his lover and not a revenant.

But he sang a dark song of crushing despair. The Shadow-singing had its effect on Ruh-çağıran Natan. His tense body relaxed in Samir’s grip, and his head dropped forward as Samir carefully released his hold on the man’s neck. Samir, fortunately, remained unaffected, protected by his lack of emotions.

“Let us go outside now,” said Brynnan.

“They will fire at us, my Bard,” said the Warlord.

“We shall be safe if Nijal and his Guardian brothers have done their work.”

“Nevertheless, this time, I shall walk in front of you with this Necromancer.”

They left the Mound. When the Invaders saw Brynnan, they raised their arms to fire.

“Do not hit the harp!” Ilchi called out.

The troopers attempted to fire, and the remaining Summoners broke their circle and rushed towards the three exiting the tomb. Almost instantly, the Ravens in the trees swooped down, pecking at the Invaders’ faces. They put up their arms in a vain attempt to shield themselves.

Then Geraint, Kyros and Orion arrived, swords drawn. Three troopers who rushed at them, stunners in hand, were cut down. But the absolute terror began when the dog Ghost materialized in his otherworldly form. He seized the souls of the fallen troopers in his monstrous jaws, but instead of disappearing with them, the dog stood and glared at the remaining Invaders with bulging red eyes while the glowing souls thrashed in his jaws. Terror added on terror when the baying of hounds filled the clearing.

“What is happening?” cried one of the Summoners. “What weapons are these?”

Then Nijal walked into the clearing. “Remove your wrist weapons. Do not fight us, or you will be destroyed.”

The Invaders cast their wrist weapons from them. The Raven-Spirits settled on the Mound, stopping their attacks.

But the baying hounds were upon them. They milled in the lower part of the clearing, white and deadly, shimmering with their own intrinsic light. Behind them, a cloaked rider appeared on a pale horse. The temperature in the clearing abruptly plunged, and hoarfrost coated the branches of nearby pines.

“Hail to thee, my Father!” Called Brynnan. Then the Bard spoke to the dog,  “Ysbryd, release the souls!”

The beast obeyed. Still in human form, the souls began to run up the trail. The ghostly Rider watched them go before he lifted a silver horn to his lips and sounded the hunting call. The hounds bayed dreadfully and pursued the souls, streaming through the clearing and past the Mound. The Invaders all cast themselves on the ground, cowering in terror. Then the Hunt had passed.

Ysbryd morphed into his corporeal form and ran to Brynnan, who rubbed his ears. Then the Bard stepped to his Lord, Samir, and embraced him wordlessly.

Nijal addressed Leader Ilchi. “Call your men to attention, Ilchi. Then I want you to deactivate the implant you had your surgeon put in the Warlord’s head.”

Leader Ilchi tried to evade Nijal‘s request. “I can’t—”

“Do it now.”

Leader Ilchi turned to the Warlord. “Lord Samir, if I do this, you may want to kill me. But I beg you think of the alliance.”

“Your ‘alliance’ with me was termed under threat of force. It is dissolved. I am going to let you live—for now. But I will never forget you killed my Bard. Take your men, including this worthless Summoner, and leave on your ship. It will take my men and me three days to return to Torrent Mountain. You may come there, without troops, seven days after that. Bring Captain Belisarius and others in a position of authority and meet me there, outside the citadel gates. We will have cleared the troopers you sent to our city by that time. Resistance on their part will be met with the hand of death. There will be no negotiation on this.”

Ilchi simply nodded, at a loss for words. Then he took a device from his belt. “This is to deactivate the implant. It is not a stunner.”

Brynnan frowned. “If it is a weapon, I will feed your soul to the beast.”

“No weapon! Please, Lord Samir, keep very still.”

Leader Ilchi pressed the device to Samir’s head. Seemingly nothing happened, but then the Warlord closed his eyes tight. He shook. The dog Ghost growled, and it sounded like thunder in the sky. Men looked around in alarm.

The Warlord raised a warning hand, his eyes still shut. Then he breathed a deep sigh and opened his eyes. In the light from lamps on the Invaders’ chests, which had illuminated as darkness fell, Brynnan could discern Samir’s gaze, like the stare of a hunting tiger. Leader Ilchi backed away from him.

But Samir stepped up to his Bard and embraced him. “My lover,” he whispered, and Brynnan clutched him in return.

“Go!” Nijal told the assembled Invaders. They turned, and under the leadership of Lord Ilchi, they left, escorting the Necromancer who seemed to be in a mindless daze.

Presently, a loud roaring filled the clearing, and the small company of defenders watched the white ship lift above the trees and withdraw abruptly skyward.

“You let them go, m’Lord,” said Geraint in wonder.

“These men have not escaped me. I have a use for them, but there will be an ultimate reckoning in Torrent Mountain. But now, I have other things on my mind. Let the Bard and I greet you all, my loyal friends.”

*    *    *

Brynnan said, “Before anything, I am going for a swim to wash off the dust of death.”

Kyros sent Orion to fetch the Orbs from the tent. He returned with three: two white and a green one, which Geraint placed on the rocky shore of the waterfall pool. Brynnan set down Mavrenn and took off his black robe. The others scanned his body, looking for traces of his ordeal perhaps, but he seemed perfectly normal to Geraint, who watched as the Bard dove into the pool. He struck out and disappeared under the water.

The others stripped and followed suit. The first one out of the pool, Orion was sent to fetch blankets from the tent, placing them on the pine needles. When the others came ashore, they were of one mind. After the harrowing confrontation,  mutual need gripped them. They took up with each other and coupled openly.

Kyros gave permission for his erômenos, Orion, to service them all. The men lay on the cloaks and blankets, kissing and fondling each other while Orion moved to each one sucking their cocks. His smooth young body was groped in turn. Geraint and Nijal paired up, and Nijal started to fuck the old Warrior while Orion sucked Geraint’s thick, hard cock. The young man then moved to Samir and Brynnan, who clasped each other tightly, lost in their own world, but they allowed Orion in between them to service both their hardened shafts. Brynnan stroked the boy’s hair.

When Orion moved back to Kyros, Samir himself sucked on Brynnan. He wanted all of him.

“It is wondrous to me that we have recovered you. I will never understand it, but it means everything that you are back.” He dipped his head again and returned to licking Brynnan’s handsome cock.

“It is my Father’s heritage. The Invaders killed my body, but my Father preserved it, and now I am again changed. But come, my lover, I yearn to be fucked by you. Put your life-seed in me.”

Samir kissed his way up the Bard’s body, pausing to suck the erect nipples, and Brynnan moaned. He rolled to his back and raised his hips to his Lord, expectant. The Warlord did not disappoint. Leaning over Brynnan, he shoved his cock against the tight restriction of the Bard’s ass and thrust through. To Samir, his lover’s ass felt hot inside, and the muscles squeezed against his huge cock as he pushed it further in.

“Give me pain, my lover, so I know I am alive. Do not spare me,” Brynnan moaned.

His words incited Samir, who buried his cock to the hilt and proceeded to move in and out in an intense rhythm, pumping mercilessly into Brynnan’s ass, lubricated only by the Warlord’s copious pre-cum.

The others paused to watch the almost brutal fucking Samir was giving to the Bard. It inspired Kyros to seize his boy’s slim hips from behind and fuck him lustily. Geraint was now fucking Nijal, and watching the Warlord and his lover seemed to inspire him also. When the old Warrior at last ejaculated, Nijal rolled and moved to Kyros and took his ass as he was fucking his boy. Geraint shifted over and kissed all three.

When the Warlord announced his intention to cum, he pounded mercilessly into the Bard, who groaned and urged him on. With a roar, Samir ejaculated, giving several hard, final thrusts of his throbbing cock. “You are my Bitch,” Samir growled, “and my heart’s own.”

“I am indeed yours, my lover.”

They rested briefly, kissing each other deeply while the others fucked to the culmination of their desire.

Later, Samir urged the others, “I will not be greedy with my Bard. If anyone would share his body, he may.”

Kyros asked, “My Lord, I took Brynnan against his will once. Would he permit me to give him my love this time? My heart overflows that he is returned to us.”

Samir looked at Brynnan. “My Bard? It’s up to you. I know your generous heart, though, and I will not object. We are all here together in this cause tonight, and I would celebrate your renewed life however we may.”

Brynnan smiled at him. “You are a noble man, my Lord, and great in understanding.” He turned to Kyros. “I agree, but let my Lord hold me while I am fucked.”

Samir moved to sit upright against a boulder and clasped Brynnan in his arms, his body leaning against his Lord’s. Kyros moved up to them and positioned himself between Brynnan’s legs. He leaned over and tentatively kissed the Bard.

“Again, I ask you to forgive me for my past transgression,” he said.

“It is long done and forgotten, Kyros,” Brynnan responded. “Take me with my full and willing consent.”

In contrast to the Warlord, Kyros was almost tender as he introduced his cock into Brynnan’s lubricated ass. Brynnan raised his legs and tilted his hips to accommodate him. “Go ahead, my friend. Fuck me,” he said.

Kyros’s eyes roved over Brynnan’s tight, muscular body, noting the rise and fall of his chest as the Bard breathed deeply. Then Kyros fucked the Bard, plunging his cock in slowly and bringing it almost all the way out before thrusting in again. The strokes were so sensuous that Brynnan trembled.

“Take him, Kyros,” said Samir, “Give him your seed. Bring him to orgasm. I want to watch my Bard cum.”

“Brynnan,” said Kyros, “You are a wonder to me. Let me take you to orgasm if I can.”

Orion moved over and stroked his erastês’ back while Nijal and Geraint moved in to watch. Brynnan felt their gazes bathing him, an affirmation that he was truly returned to them, and he felt profoundly grateful for their acceptance. Hands touched and stroked him as he was fucked.

“I am going to cum. Kyros, give your seed to me. Let us come together.”

Kyros obliged and thrust hard. Sweat ran down his forehead. “I am cumming now, Brynnan. Join me,” he said.

As he ejaculated into Brynnan’s ass, the Bard strained his hips, thrusting back against Kyros’s cock. He ejaculated, and his cum spilled out, fountaining up and scattering pearls of semen on his chest and stomach. Brynnan cried out in surrender, feeling Samir’s arms gripping him, the big hands pinching his nipples as he came, and the Warlord’s stiffening cock pressing into his back.

Kyros sagged forward. He Kissed Brynnan gratefully, then instructed Orion, “Boy, lick this man clean. But be gentle of his sensitive cock.”

Orion obeyed and gently sucked the spilled cum from Brynnan’s cock, licking his stomach and chest. When he had finished, the men decided to rest where they were.

“Ghost and the Ravens will guard us,” said Brynnan.

*    *    *

Strategos Arcturus held up a hand, halting his column of riders in the early morning. There was something in the road ahead of him.

His eromenos, Asirin, said, “What is it, my erastês ?”

“It looks like a bear.”

“A . . . grey bear?”

“No,” said Arcturus, “it seems to be a dog: a huge dog.”

Arcturus’ horse showed no overt alarm. It stood, blowing and snorting, trying to get a sense of the dog, but its ears were tilted forward, showing curiosity. The animal stared back at them, then turned away and trotted up the trail that turned above the main road.

When it paused and looked at them again, Asirin said, “Let’s follow it, my Lord.”

Arcturus turned in his saddle and regarded the column of men behind him: one hundred pairs of the Brotherhood of Deieros, erastoi and their younger lovers, their eromenoi.

He said to the nearest man, “Call Kieran the Guardian up here.”

The man obeyed, and Kieran rode up to join Arcturus only moments later.

Kieran immediately grasped the situation. “My brother Alsar, Nijal, and the Warlord are up ahead with others that you know. Let us join them.”

A short while later, they met with Nijal’s small party. Much to their surprise, Arcturus and Asirin saw Brynnan with Geraint, alongside Kyros and his young lover. The Warlord rode his warhorse, Malpaisan, whom Nijal had picketed far below the glade with their other horses, away from the Invaders. When they saw the Brotherhood, the party dismounted and waited.

“Strategos Arcturus!” Kyros quickly knelt before his leader.

Then Arcturus dismounted and embraced Kyros and Orion. He clasped wrists with the Warlord and with Geraint. He greeted Nijal formally, but he stood before the Bard, regarding him with a long look.

Brynnan, Geraint and Nijal, and the young singer, Andri, had encountered the Brotherhood of Deieros on the plains. Brynnan had been declared the loser in the challenge of the Dance of Cuts, even though it was he who had drawn ‘first blood.’ Consequently, he had been raped by fifteen of the older erastai, with Arcturus claiming first privilege. That knowledge was in Arcturus’ eyes now.

“Brynnan Marec Mavrenn, I heard of your death through the Guardian, Kieran, stationed with us at Redstone Holding. Your resurrection is marvellous in my eyes. I would speak with your Lord of what lies between us at a later time. Suffice it to say I am exceeding glad you are alive, for all our sakes.”

Brynnan responded to Arcturus with a courteous bow, “Let us put past issues aside, Strategos. What matters is that the Invaders’ chief weapons have been rendered useless, and we have a chance to overcome them.”

The Warlord Samir spoke now, “I am pleased to see you here, Strategos Arcturus. Your aid is important to us. Let’s return now to Torrent Mountain together and deal with those who would impose their will on us.”

*    *    *

In the distance, storm clouds gathered. Brynnan watched a streak of lightning. He, too, was thinking of the Invaders. His Lord Samir’s soldiers and the Warriors of Deieros may intend to drive the Invaders from the Citadel, but Brynnan’s thoughts were darker. He had come close to the final annihilation of his being, and the knowledge that the Invaders were capable of such evil brought about an implacable resolution within him. The time for mercy had passed. Brynnan intended to harness his heritage as Huntsman’s son and use the storm’s power to sweep the Invaders’ troops from the land.

*    *    *