To Redeem His People

A Meeting of Minds

The Warlord stood before the high gates of the Deep Redoubt in Torrent Mountain. This was already far inside the Redoubt on the lowest level, but it included all the Systems rooms, and the Archives, storehouses of knowledge and technology. Lord Raith, the Torrent Mountain Master Engineer, stood with him, as did Records Master Aidan, Nijal and Brynnan, who carried his harp.

“Unlock the Gates, Raith; Aidan,” Samir ordered them.

From a slot in the gates, a beam illuminated first Raith, then Aidan, scanning them from head to toe, reading their inner cellular structure and minds. A complex series of tones sounded in the air, and Brynnan memorized them instantly. The great gates drew back into the wall

As they passed through, another beam from above scanned each one of them, reading their minds: built-in redundancy ensured no one with malign intent could enter. Raith turned his attention to a wall panel and activated a moving walkway, coded to their destination. Much of the Deep Redoubt’s technology was still operative but available only to a select trained few. Raith was one of these. The moving walkway transported them rapidly until they reached a vast rotunda featuring seven doors facing the circular space.

Aidan spoke, “We have not been able to open these chambers for many years. I think the process has become corrupted. Are you sure we have the means to attempt it?”

Brynnan stepped forward, placing Mavrenn on the floor in front of the first door. He knelt beside his harp and began to play. Unexpectedly, the tones were a pure series of sound pulses, complex and resonant, unlike the harp’s familiar voice. The tones vibrated inside each man’s head, creating an uncomfortable sensation. A beam of light again played over the group. The door hissed as it slid open. Cautiously, they entered.

Records Master Aidan looked around, noting banks of cubicles. He entered one and seated himself. “This is the Index,” he said. “Let’s see if I remember . . . I’ll perform a search. Who will be the first recipient?”

“Let Nijal take the knowledge,” said the Warlord. “He can pass it directly to Brynnan and me.”

“We will start with the earliest records of Settlement and its history. At first, we were peaceful, and the Redoubts were established across this continent. Then conflicts arose, and advanced weapons were employed. We fought against the native inhabitants, the Alsar, to take their cities, destroying many.” He looked apologetically at Nijal.

“It is still strong in our collective memories,” stated the Alsar Guardian with an unreadable expression on his face. “But we learned, and our own powers arose and wiped out your weapons technology.”

Raith said, “Some have said recently that we should have preserved the weapons to defend ourselves against the Invaders.”

“A return to Chaos,” said Samir. “Man-to-man combat now keeps it real. There is no distance involved in our mutual destruction or gain.”

“My Lord Samir, if we were to evolve to a truly peaceful condition, you would have no work to do. But there will always be conflict within our race. Even the Invaders from the Long Dark engage in it; they are our own species, however distant now,” said Aidan.

“So let us seek an answer to peacefully integrate their settlers into our world. Have you found the areas of knowledge we need yet, Master Aidan?”

“Coming up now.”

“Let our Alsar, Nijal, be the one to absorb it,” said Samir.

The knowledge stored in the records was transferred directly to Nijal’s mind and from there to Samir and Brynnan’s. When Brynnan had first experienced the process in the ArMor-ys Redoubt, on his journey with Nijal and Geraint, he had found it exhausting and nearly overwhelming. Now it flowed into him easily. Nevertheless, the process took time and might have overcome less adapted minds. But Samir and Brynnan benefitted from Nijal’s blood, with its virus carrier, that had been transferred to them.

As they left the Deep Redoubt, the Warlord commented, “Now at least we are armed with enough information to begin negotiations.”

*    *    *

They journeyed to Narib. Three moons had passed from his initial meeting with Captain Belisarius at Torrent Mountain. It had taken time for messages and agreements to be exchanged and allowances for the travel time to the Principality of Narib.

Now the conference in the Narib Citadel hall was finally underway. Representatives from the Invaders’ Mothership included Captain Belisarius and his co-Captain, Nereus, Strategists Soren and Adhiguna, and other section chiefs and leader representatives. Of note was the Mnemotech Sehrbaz, Leader of the Watchers. Leader Ilchi was not present.

As host, Jehanadir, called the Red Prince, presided. Lord Samir was to be given a particular role, that of discussion leader since the continental Alliance had been formed by his undertaking. The Warlord accompanied by Geraint, and Councillor Targeth, represented Torrent Mountain, King Rhydian for Redmark, King Cyndyllan for the whole of ArMorica, the Ruithin Priest Cadwyr standing in for Grand Master Neven-Tanet of the ArMor-ys Redoubt, Lord Jelek for Hesperon, and Dronnadh and Nijal for the Alsar Guardians. Others represented smaller groups and tribes, such as Strategos Arcturus of the Brotherhood of Deieros and Bertholf of the Men of the Boar. And finally, Brynnan was present as a special counsel due to his unique role. If he represented anyone, it was a certain King that men were too afraid to name.

The first day was devoted to discussing whether any settlers could be invited at all. Arguments ranged both ways, but at last, it was agreed that settlement was a possibility. The Warlord assured his brothers in the newly formed Alliance that he would perform the initial role as peacekeeper among the allocation of the Sojourners, as the Invaders were now called.

The two Sojourner Strategists, Soren and Adhiguna, arranged logistics with their Alliance counterparts—how many, where they would settle, supplies needed. Brynnan listened closely, But his attention suddenly changed when a feeling entered his mind—an uncomfortably familiar feeling: the mind-touch of a Mnemotech, a Watcher. He quickly glanced up at Mnemotech Sehrbaz. The man was staring straight ahead with a serious expression.

Brynnan rose up and walked over to Sehrbaz, asking him in a low voice, “At least one of your Mnemotechs is active. We established that there would be no more mental interference as a condition of settlement. Would you care to explain?”

“It is from the Mothership. I am aware of it, but I did not authorize it!”

“If it is a plan on your part, know that your Mnemotechs will be destroyed. I disrupted them before, and I can do so again. Can you stop them?”

Sehrbaz closed his eyes and concentrated. Then he said, “I am not connected to a machine. I can’t interfere. Please, do not destroy us. It has taken us generations to develop our mind-gifts.”

Brynnan gave the man a long look. “I will investigate.”

“If you can reach them . . . Please, if you must, disable our machines, not my people.”

“I will do what I must. But we will brook no further attack, either physical or psychic.”

Without disrupting those speaking, Brynnan bent his thoughts on Geraint, Nijal and his Lord Samir, making them aware of his concerns. Then he quietly left the chamber with Nijal following.

In his room, he turned to Nijal. “I must send my spirit-form to the Mothership. Some mischief is afoot with the Watchers.”

“Can you not simply go?” asked Nijal.

“My body will never go to that place. It would be a trap. Help me, Nijal.”

“Of course, my friend. Come, strip and lie down.”

The Bard undressed, as did Nijal. As they lay together, Brynnan said, “How is it, my Alsar brother, that I can always get aroused when you embrace me?”

Nijal merely smiled then kissed him. “I hardly need to suck your cock; it is already erect.”

“Then fuck me, and we’ll cum together.”

Their coupling was swift but intense. Brynnan was ready when Nijal pushed his cock into his ass as the Bard lay facing him. Their eyes held each others’; Nijal’s green, gold-rimmed and shimmering, and Brynnan’s liquid and dark. Brynnan felt their deep connection on the spiritual level. Nijal thrust into his ass in a forceful, pounding rhythm that rapidly brought him to orgasm.

As he ejaculated, Nijal felt the Bard’s creaming cum on his belly. “Now, my lover!” the Alsar Guardian said.

In their mutual release, Brynnan’s spirit-form detached from his body, and he flew, knowing that Nijal would keep his corporeal form safe. He did not know precisely how this mutual sexual release freed his spirit to travel to places, except there was great power in harnessing sexual energy. He assumed the Shadow-spirit form that enabled his far travelling through time and space. Then he observed the massive Mothership as it hurtled through the void around his world. He came to the bulkhead near where the Watchers – the Mnemotechs – gathered and penetrated the skin.

The vast chamber had changed since his last visit. Most of the machines that had held the bodies of the Watchers lay idle; no human forms were within their embraces. There was, however, a cluster where eight Watchers lay, held within by unseen bonds. Brynnan felt the energy of their minds pulsing as one, an eightfold spear of force that thrust at own his mind still lying in his body. His spirit now was unaffected, but he assumed a semi-physical semblance of himself in that place, hoping to lure out the perpetrator.

‘I am summoned. I come,’ the Bard projected.

“I know you are here,” said an all too familiar voice. Brynnan had been half-expecting the Necromancer, Ruh-çağıran Natan, but it was Leader Ilchi who stood before the Watchers. The Leader peered as if searching through a mist.

“I can discern your form. You will surrender to me,” said Ilchi, sounding sure of himself.

Brynnan said into the Leader’s mind, ‘No. I don’t think I will. Eight or eighty of your Mnemotechs: it makes no difference to me. Your time of influence is over. And you have run out of chances, Leader Ilchi.”

Leader Ilchi spun around in panic as Brynnan’s spirit-form moved about him. “But you can’t escape me . . . no one could. The neural net is too powerful!”

‘What fate is to be yours, I wonder?” mused Brynnan. “Should I let you choose? Explosive decompression, perhaps, or destruction of your soul? No. No games. Let there be an end to this. Will you surrender to me?’

The Leader snarled, “If it wasn’t for you, we would have been in power and could have had access to your resources and to the Redoubts. Why couldn’t you have stayed dead?”

‘Why indeed?’ Brynnan replied directly to Ilchi’s mind. Then he focused his thought into a tight beam. ‘Ysbryd,’ he called.

The great dog of the Underworld materialized into the ship in his otherworldly aspect. Like Brynnan, his material form had no place here. But his Shadow-form was enough.

Seeing this fate before him, Ilchi screamed. “No, I have changed my mind. I will submit.”

‘Hold him, Ysbryd, but do not kill him.’

The dog seized Leader Ilchi by the shoulder, keeping him in place. The man’s face was white with terror. But then Brynnan turned to the eight Watchers in the grip of the machines.

‘You, too, have aided this man who jeopardizes your settlement. You have one choice. Your final act as Mnemotechs. Go into his mind and impose your collective will, as you were told to do to me. Incapacitate him. I leave it to your Captains to judge him. If they want peace, they will put him back into frozen sleep. Until then, your own minds are bound. After he is no longer of concern to you, you may join your fellows and be given another task—a harmless one—as your Captain sees fit.’

As the Mnemotechs acted, Leader Ilchi fell quiet and stopped struggling. His eyes rolled up in his head, showing their whites, and he slowly slumped, insensate, to the deck as Ysbryd released him.

‘Let us go, my faithful Ci Annwn,’ Brynnan said. Then he bent his thought on Nijal’s mind. ‘Touch the runes on my chest, Nijal. Invoke their power: Eternity, Wind, and Night.’

Brynnan felt Nijal’s touch, even in his spirit form, as Nijal stroked his physical body. Brynnan and Ysbryd faded.

*    *    *

It took many days to discuss arrangements to settle those chosen from the Sojourners. Depending on how the settlers succeeded, small groups would be integrated into the City-states along a set timeline. Agricultural workers were the first choice. Others would be trained in the existing crafts and professions found on the planet. There would be ample opportunity for both peoples to learn about each other.

Nijal contributed a unique suggestion. “The Mnemotechs,” he began, “have the mental powers to become excellent healers and diagnosticians. Let them become a medical affiliation to heal minds and bodies instead of invading them. They will have to rely on their own inborn abilities and not on the machines for mind-enhancements, but we Alsar can work with them.”

Leader Sehrbaz replied, “I am grateful you’ll make a place for my Mnemotechs. I agree with you, Nijal Silver-hand, that they would make excellent doctors, but I also understand the need on your part to monitor their minds.”

Nijal said, “It will take several generations before we can trust you completely. Once your livelihoods are integrated with ours, and we make common cause, then our vigilance may relax.”

“What of your own conflicts?” Captain Belisarius asked. “You do have internecine wars and have also had a problem with your sea invaders and hostile tribes.”

“I’m afraid it’s a function of our species,” Lord Samir replied. But we will not accept your Troopers, either as settlers or as a defence force. Let them stay on the Mothership and take over your agricultural work or other peaceful occupation. I would like to understand, though, Captain. Whatever possessed you to think you could use force over negotiation? Our races have a common ancestry.”

“When we began to approach your system, we had known your world was an ancient destination, but there were no satellite devices orbiting your planet and no communication signals from the surface. We guessed that if any of our first settlers had survived, they had descended into barbarism.”

“So, in your opinion, technology makes you superior, and that gives you the right to impose your will.”

“I still cannot fathom truly how we were defeated. You have concepts of forces that I barely understand. Only the Necromancers on our ship maintain a connection with ancient powers of the mind and the possibility of life after death,” said the Captain. “Also, it is beyond the realm of reason to me that a person can return from the dead.”

“In our peoples, there is a great variety of beliefs,” said the Ruithin Cadwyr.  “Some cannot countenance any dealings with the supernatural; other societies are modelled on the concepts of other parallel realms. Brynnan, our Ruithin Bard and Preist, has become an avatar of the ancient forces involving Death, as you found out to your cost. Some of us believe in prophecy, and there is an ancient one which fits our Bard.”

“What does it say?” asked the Strategist, Adhiguna.

Cadwyr replied, “It is from a scroll which was contemporaneous with the First Settlement, and it tells of a second incursion:

 ‘He shall stand before those from Beyond the Stars. The burden of his people will be laid on him, and he shall suffer greatly for them. Death stands beside him, and he shall be welcomed into that kingdom through the persecution of the Strangers. But through Death, he shall triumph.’”

Silence greeted this pronouncement. Then Captain Belisarius looked at Brynnan with something akin to fear and said, “And you believe this prophecy refers to Brynnan Marec Mavrenn. Well, something certainly destroyed our forces that we have been unable to fathom. And, according to Ruh-çağıran Natan, the soul he captured re-animated a body that somehow remained uncorrupted through an unexplained energy field.”

Prince Jehanadir stated, “And thanks to these forces, Brynnan has redeemed his people. He and I journeyed together, and I truly believe this. It is my hope that you will now leave well-enough alone. The bond that I have with my land, for instance, is not something to be ever grasped by your invading forces.”

“You have made your point,” sighed Captain Nereus, who had been mostly silent, but he seemed concerned.

But Brynnan said, “If your people hold spiritual beliefs of their own, there is room for them in our world. You would be surprised.”

*    *    *

After a long day’s meeting, Jehanadir invited Brynnan to his chambers, accompanied by the Warlord Samir, Geraint, Kyros of the Deieros, the Ruithin Priest Cadwyr and Bertholf of the northern Tribe of the Boar. They were there for a specific reason, and it was not to discuss the settlers.

“My friends,” began Jehanadir, “I invited you—just us men, not the boys, here simply to relax. We all share a connection with each other. Those of us with young lovers, I suggest that we engage with them tomorrow. After the killing of some of my people and the kidnapping of my youthful lover, Shahin, by the Invaders, I have come to realize that life is indeed precious, and we never know the time we’ll have left. Before, I have shared my body with Lord Samir’s heart’s love, Brynnan. He gifted Shahin and me with his understanding and healed us both from an event I won’t go into. But I’m very grateful to you, in particular, Lord Samir, for giving me the chance to engage with Brynnan again. I hope the rest of you here will feel free to set aside your reservations and share in a celebration of joy with me.”

The men shared food and wine and conversed for time. Then they each stripped and used the large bathing chamber to wash and prepare themselves. Under the running water of the waterfall shower, Geraint and Bertholf stood close together. Gereint reached over and kissed the wolf-warrior. They shared a comment, and the usually serious Runemaster laughed. Geraint’s powerful, hairy body bore a tattoo on his breast, done to him previously by Bertholf: the strength rune, with a bear paw on his shoulder and claw marks. It had healed well, and Brynnan paused in his own bathing to admire it.

Back in the chamber, on one of the couches, Kyros was getting to know Cadwyr, the Ruithin priest. They seemed an unlikely couple, but Kyros’ dark eyes flashed animatedly as they spoke. He did not object when Cadwyr laid a hand in his thigh and stroked the strong muscles. Kyros leaned forward and kissed the priest.

Lord Samir mentally gave his permission to Brynnan to give his body to Jehanadir. The three of them came wet from the waterfall shower. Jehanadir sucked Brynnan’s cock as Samir caressed his body, his own huge cock pushing against it. Brynnan crouched on hands and knees, and Jehanadir mounted him, shoving his cock into the Bard’s ass while Brynnan sucked his Lord.

So it was that the men fucked each other. Pairings became more fluid as the evening progressed. At one point, Nijal and Dronnadh arrived together and willingly joined in. At first, they fucked each other, but then Nijal moved to Jehanadir while Dronnadh engaged with Geraint.

“We never did get to know each other, but I heard of your reputation,” Dronnadh told the old Warrior. “I want to know what all the fuss is about.”

“Let me at you, and you’ll find out,” said Geraint, grinning. “Then my wolf-partner should try you. Here, let’s go shower again first. Bertholf and I have been spilling cum all over each other.”

Finally, Brynnan was fucked by his Lord and experienced that utter surrender to his heart’s love again. As the huge cock entered him, Brynnan opened his mind, and they melded in spirit again. When he had his orgasm, he also spilled out a backwash of love and desire felt by all in the room. He received a sensual acknowledgement back from the minds of Nijal, Dronnadh, Cedwyr and Geraint.

So renewal and reaffirmation became the order of the night. As the activity ended and the men prepared to seek their chambers, a youth came in; Shahin, Jehanadir’s golden boy.

“Forgive me, my Lord. I know I should have waited for you in our room, but I . . .” his voice trailed off, with an uncertain tone.

“It’s alright, Shahin, no one has kidnapped me, and you are safe,” Jehanadir reassured him. “Let me but see my guests depart, and we’ll go to my chambers where I can give you my love.”

Brynnan, looking on, remembered when he had rescued Shahin from the Invaders who had kidnapped him and the forbidden ride they had taken afterwards through the Shadow-ways. He understood the boy still had some anxieties. He spoke to Shahin, “I think tomorrow I shall introduce you to two of my young friends, Andri and Col. Andri has been kidnapped before, but we were able to recover him.”

Jehanadir added, “Tomorrow, after our talks, I give my permission for you to make some new friends your own age and get to know each other.”

Shahin took the Prince’s hand and kissed it. His long, wheat-blond hair fell loose over his shoulders, hiding his smile. “Thank you, my Lord. I shall look forward to it.

*    *    *