Brynnan: An Evil in Siginak

A Deadly Mercy

The Shadow-ways, pathways between worlds, allowed the Bard and the ghost-dog Ysbryd to travel as swift as thought from his Father’s kingdom of Annwn. At last, Brynnan was back in Siginak, the Sojourners’ Settlement, in the room he shared with Nijal. He had bathed and changed into breeches, boots and a black silk shirt. The dog of Annwn lay on the floor at his feet while Brynnan drew his harp against his shoulder and softly plucked the strings. It had been too long since he had played.

And so Nijal found him, absorbed in his music, playing an ancient tune from his homeland. The Guardian stood quietly, waiting for the Bard to finish the phrase.

“Nijal!” Brynnan rested a hand across the strings, stood and wrapped the Guardian in a tight clasp.

“Easy now, thrice-born one!” Nijal laughed. “I see we have our own canine Guardian back. But, look at you!” Nijal held him at arm’s length, regarding him with a warmth that touched the Bard’s heart.

“I can’t describe how it feels to be here again, seeing you . . .” Brynnan confessed.

“Was it bad?” Nijal asked.

“I’m alright, Nijal; I really am. I’ll let you read my mind later if you can stomach it.” Then, with some difficulty, Brynnan turned to business. “What of Soren? Did Captain Belisarius condemn him?”

Nijal sobered. “He is condemned—and unrepentant. We still don’t know all his allies. It looks as if I may have to drug him again.”

“Don’t bother. I have a couple of surprises for our Strategist. Let us go see him now.”

“Do you need to rest first? Death and resurrection must be tiring.”

“It is. But I rested enough in Annwn.”

“I keep forgetting about how time works there.”

Brynnan slipped Mavrenn onto his shoulder by her strap and left the room with Nijal and Ysbryd.

*    *    *

Captain Belisarius was surprised when Nijal returned with Brynnan and an enormous dog. “Welcome, Brynnan Marec Mavrenn; we missed you,” the Chief Administrator said, genuine warmth in his voice this time.

“My absence was unavoidable, Captain. One day I may explain more fully, but my news is that the Necromancer is dead.” Brynnan carefully watched the others in the room for an unexpected reaction and saw one man who turned pale, a junior Administrator. He made a mental note of him.

“And this animal of yours seems familiar somehow, and it looks fearsome!”

“Ysbryd is harmless to my friends but dangerous for intruders to encounter. But what of Administrator Soren?

Belisarius suddenly looked careworn as he shook his head. “There is no redemption for him. He will not change his mind. There is no question of sending him back to our Mothership for mind adjustment or putting him in cryogenic sleep. We cannot risk sympathetic elements wanting to free him as they did with the Necromancer. But I need to be sure we know who still plots against us. Will you and Nijal Silverhand question him again?”

“I will speak with him,” said Brynnan. “Let us head there now.”

The three men walked down the corridor to where Soren was held, talking as they did so.

“But what of Kuruntu?” the Bard asked. “I believe he was unaware of the full import of his involvement. Soren seduced and manipulated him, although he is not innocent.”

“I ask that you speak with him also. I am inclined to give him another chance, but I’m unsure what to do with him. Nijal thinks to give him over to Trading Master Tajinder’s care.”

“You could give him a term of probation. Tajinder thought he was a competent assistant,” said Nijal.

“I think I’m honestly out of options. I will send for Master Trader Tajinder in the morning.”

Then he looked at the harp case Brynnan had slung over his shoulder.

“Even though I once advocated that Ruh-çağiran Natan use your skills so that he could play your harp—and I am profoundly sorry that I did—I would love to hear you play it again.”

Brynnan raised an eyebrow. “Even though you are aware that she can influence minds?”

“I braved your harp’s voice before,” said Belisarius. “Ah! We are here.”

There were two guards outside the door of the holding compartment. One of the guards looked through the viewport in the door and called for the occupant to stand back. When the door opened, a guard made to accompany them, but Belisarius waved him away. Nijal volunteered to stay outside with them.

Soren stood near the back wall of the small room. He appeared unharmed, but his expression blended defiance and suppressed anger.

“Going to rape my mind again, Marec Mavrenn?” he challenged, folding his arms across his chest.

“Possibly,” Brynnan answered mildly. “I will do whatever it takes. I told the Necromancer I was out of mercy and patience before he died.”

Soren looked shaken. “I knew when he failed to be in contact with me that he was probably dead. You killed him.”

“No.” Brynnan turned to Belisarius. “Captain, do you mind leaving us for a short time? I think it would be more productive.”

Belisarius frowned. “If you think it absolutely necessary.”

“I do.”

“Will you be safe without a guard?”

Brynnan looked at Soren. “Will I?”

“I think it more likely that the risk is to me,” he replied, glancing at the dog who stood quietly beside Brynnan, striving unsuccessfully to look harmless.

When the Captain had left, Soren said, “Please, sit. And tell me how Natan died.”

Brynnan sat on the bed and rested his harp on the floor beside him.

“Ruh-çağiran Natan died when he tried to kill Kuruntu. He used a weapon that arced back to strike his own body. It was lethal. I witnessed the entire event. So did Nijal.” Then Brynnan fixed Soren with a direct look. “Who are those that conspired with you and the Necromancer to destroy Siginak?”

“You expect me to tell you?”

“No. I know you will refuse, but you will nevertheless give me the names I need.”

Brynnan opened his harp case and took out the instrument. The rich, purple-heart wood gleamed, and the carved bone figurehead on the pillar seemed to stare at Soren with its ruby eyes.

The Strategist flinched backwards, then he took a step towards the Bard. Immediately, the dog Ysbryd faced him, hackles raised. He did not transform to his otherworldly aspect, nor did his eyes glow, but the threat was apparent enough, and Soren subsided.

Brynnan began to play very softly as if he had not noticed Soren’s aggressive move.

“So, you seek to steal my soul?” the Strategist asked.

“Hardly. That was more your Necromancer’s field of operations: he even gave that poor lad Kuruntu the power to channel a soul through himself, not telling him it would mean his own death if he succeeded. And you did not tell him either, did you?”

“No, I did not. I needed his obedience. Kuruntu thought it would only subject your will to Natan’s, not kill you.” Soren suddenly looked surprised, as if he had not known he would speak the raw truth.

Brynnan continued to play softly, but now the rhythm grew more complex. “And from the ship, you tricked your fellow Strategist, Adhiguna, into helping you, did you not? To smuggle the Necromancer onto our world.”

“Yes, but how did you know?”

“I remember Adhiguna well. You were friends, but he supported the Settlement at the conference in Narib. But Adhiguna wasn’t aware of your real purpose, was he?”

The harp melody changed into a minor cadence.

“He would not have supported me if he had known. He thought Ruh-çağiran Natan would find healing down here.” Soren paused to listen to Mavrenn’s voice. The harp’s notes tugged at his emotions, making him feel things long suppressed. “You are affecting my mind with your playing,” he told Brynnan. “Making me tell you things!”

“Hardly,” Brynnan replied. “We are just having a simple conversation. Everything is easy. There are no difficult questions.”

Brynnan’s voice was soft and non-threatening: pitched to blend with the tones of his harp. “But it’s easy to tell me things, isn’t it? You don’t have to keep it all inside any longer. I know you aren’t going to change your mind, and Captain Belisarius has made his decision. So you might as well speak your heart.”

“Yes . . .” The Strategist nodded in agreement.

“I will call Belisarius, and you can tell him how you feel. It would be a relief, would it not?”

“Actually, I would feel relieved now that you mention it.”

Brynnan sent a mind-call to Nijal, bidding him allow the Captain to enter.

While they waited, Brynnan, continuing to play, said, “Have you ever wondered how the stars would sound if they could sing with a harp’s voice? I have heard the voice of our world, our planet, in real-time, and it humbled me. No wonder your people want so much just to live here undisturbed. But a star cluster, for instance, might sing like this:”

Mavrenn’s voice changed, and a series of ethereal phrases filled the space. At Brynnan’s feet, the dog Ysbryd rested his chin on his paws and sighed.

“Look, Soren. Even my dog is relaxed. He seems to like my playing to him.”

“Your playing is literally captivating, Brynnan, and I know it’s affecting my thoughts, but somehow, that doesn’t matter anymore.”

The door opened, and Captain Belisarius entered. Brynnan kept playing, seemingly ignoring the intrusion, but then he spoke.

“Soren, can you explain to me just who else is involved in Natan’s plan? The Captain and I would really like to know. It will be a catharsis before your death.”

Captain Belisarius looked shocked, but then, listening to Brynnan’s music, he seemed to relax.

“Yes, Soren. I would really like to know, too,” said Belisarius. “Our physical resources are limited. How did you pay for the mercenaries you hired?”

“One of the traders accompanying the caravan of goods every three moons is from the city-state of Hesperon. There is a wealthy Lord there named Garth Mellea who does not want our people on this planet. We enlisted his aid. Kuruntu brought messages, although he did not know their content.”

Belisarius’s jaw tightened, but Brynnan caught his eye, warning him to tread lightly. Then he said, “I will just play my harp a little longer while you unburden yourself to the Captain.”

So Soren did as he was bid. Maybe he recognized that his responses were now, and had been, compelled by the Bard’s playing, but he seemed to answer willingly enough, disclosing what he knew. Eventually, there seemed to be nothing left to say. Brynnan brought his harp music to a final phrase, then let the echoes reverberate into silence.

But there was one last thing from Soren. “Brynnan Marec Mavrenn, I was right to fear your talents, and I’m aware you and your harp beguiled me. But I thank you for your playing. A fitting eulogy.” He turned to the Captain. “I am ready now. I will not change my mind, so there’s no point in reconsidering. Do it now, Belisarius, and let’s not prolong it.”

The Captain said, “Very well. Brynnan, you may leave us now—and send in the guards.”

“No, Belisarius. I realize this is your responsibility, but we are on my world, and I also have a task to perform. If this act burdens your mind overmuch, you may ask Nijal—or myself.”

“It is the method that troubles me most. On our Mothership, we had many options, but here . . .things are primitive. We have no more energy-field weapons. One of my guards has learned methods to halt blood flow to the brain . . .” He looked at Soren. “Forgive me, Soren, discussing it like this in front of you—“

“Just get on with it, man,” responded the Strategist.

Brynnan made up his mind. ‘Justice tempered with mercy . . .’ he thought. The concept was part of his practices as a Ruithin priest—and his understanding of death had grown with his own recent experience.

He approached Soren. “Will you trust me in this?” he asked in a low voice.

“Oddly enough, yes, I will. You have your own code of honour.”

Holding Soren’s gaze, Brynnan unfastened his shirt, exposing his breast.

“Place your palms over the brands,” he instructed.

Belisarius exclaimed, “Brynnan! What are you—“

“I am saying farewell to Soren. It’s an ancient practice. Give me space.”

This was no submissive sex partner speaking, but a man with clear authority. Still bewildered, Belisarius gestured for him to continue.

“I will be with you, Soren,” Brynnan whispered. “You can rest in me, and I will bring you peace. Don’t be afraid. Now, put your hands on my chest.” And Soren did so, touching each branded sigil.

“Eternity, Wind, and Night,” said the Bard in a voice only Soren could hear. “Your soul journeys into the Deep.”

Soren was already sinking to the floor in Brynnan’s arms. He laid him down gently, kneeling at the body’s side. The Captain started forward with a cry, but the Bard waved him back. Then time stood still, and Brynnan’s spirit-form entered the Shadow-ways.

The soul was there, a pale, glowing copy of its human self. Brynnan took its hand. “Soul of Soren, let me lead you to the Gate,” he said. “My Father’s hounds will not hunt you on your journey. You will find your own path across the Desert to the realm that awaits you.”

Back in the Material World, Belisarius looked at the Bard crouched over the Strategist’s body. Soren had simply collapsed, dying in the Bard’s arms, while Brynnan appeared to have done nothing except speak inaudible words. But surely . . .

Then Brynnan lifted his head, relinquishing Soren’s hand. “His body is in your care now, Belisarius,” he said. “If you will excuse me, I will go and rest. But I think it important for you to meet with Nijal and me in the morning and summon Trade Master Tajinder and Kuruntu. We will finish the last strands of this unfortunate weave.”

As he put Mavrenn in her case, Ysbryd came over and licked his face, and Brynnan stroked the dog’s broad head. Then he opened the door where Nijal awaited, and together they left.

*    *    *

Nijal waited until they had reached their own chamber before he took Brynnan in a close embrace, kissing him, probing his mouth with his tongue. “You’re cold! I can sense it not only on your skin, but your core temperature is lowered.”

“I know. It took energy to resist following Soren into the Deep. I have learned a new body memory: how to die.”

Nijal began to undress his friend. “You only did what the occasion demanded and took on the other’s burden of pain, as you often do, showing mercy at the last. But I know what you need. Let me stand in for your Father’s healing and give you my hot cum. A plain, honest fuck will do the trick: we will avoid any arcane realms.”

“You are speaking as my surgeon and healer?”

“Definitely,” Nijal replied as he pulled his own clothing from his body.

Lying together on the bed, Brynnan, in Nijal’s arms, found that his partner’s skin radiated heat. Nijal’s body covered his as the Guardian’s kisses moved down the Bard’s neck, lingering on the scar that marked his throat above the golden torc collar. Then his nipples were sucked for a time.

“I want to suck your cock, as you suck mine, so I may continue to warm you,” Nijal murmured, shifting his golden-toned body around.

Brynnan embraced his friend, nuzzling his ball sack and stiffening cock, even as he felt Nijal’s hot mouth close over his penis. The Guardian’s wheat-blond mane felt silky against his loins. Brynnan’s breathing and heart rate increased with his body’s rising excitement.

Then Nijal sucked and licked his testicles, and the Bard groaned, feeling his cock grow rock hard in response. He took Nijal’s proud member all the way down his throat, working the muscles and pulling on the cock. His shivering had stopped, and he was beginning to sweat.

“Turn over on your stomach and raise your ass, lover,” whispered Nijal. “I am going to fuck you now.”

“Yes . . .”

As Nijal covered him, lying over his back, Brynnan felt the Guardian’s rigid phallus probing his rectum. He tilted his hips more and opened his legs to allow Nijal better access. Then the cock found its target, spreading the Bard’s rectal opening to penetrate it deeply. This time, Brynnan cried out as a surge of pure pleasure washed over him.

Nijal pounded against him hard. Partway through the act, they switched positions so that the Bard lay on his back while his friend fucked him, and he surrendered to the Guardian’s deep kisses. Then Nijal gripped Brynnan’s wrists, pinning him down and emphasizing his helplessness in the face of Nijal’s loving assault, forcing the Bard’s surrender.

The pumping of Nijal’s cock reached a crescendo as he shot his load into Brynnan’s ass with a final hard thrust. The Bard felt it as a heated, roiling tide that filled him, driving away any vestiges of cold.

But Brynnan wasn’t yet satiated. “Nijal, let me—“

“Yes.”

Nijal rolled to his side, lifting his leg to allow the Bard to take him from behind. Brynnan’s animal urge was strong, and he sunk his rigid cock into his friend’s ass, clasping him tightly. Thrusting his cock in and out, lubricated only by his own copious pre-cum, Brynnan bit the back of Nijal’s shoulder below the neck. Then he reached around and found his friend’s still-hard cock. Between jerking him off and fucking him, it wasn’t long before Brynnan was overwhelmed by sensation.

“I’m cumming in you!”

“Give it to me, dear lover . . .”

As the Guardian’s cum fountained over his grasping fist, Brynnan’s ejaculate shot into Nijal’s rectum. The Bard felt a flaring star of ecstasy exploding deep inside himself, its shock wave rushing outwards in all directions to encompass his entire being: a surge of pure life instead of death filled and renewed his body and soul.

Utterly spent, he grasped Nijal’s body tightly, and they rested together in that position until Brynnan became aware of himself once more.

“Did you have a good sleep?” asked Nijal, turning over until he was on his back and drawing Brynnan’s head into the crook of his shoulder.

“I guess I did. Thank you—you do take good care of me!”

“Someone has to, in Samir’s absence.”

“So there is just one more loose end to tie up—Kuruntu. Then we can leave things in Belisarius’ hands and depart Siginak.”

As Brynnan lay beside Nijal, he felt Ysbryd’s cold, wet nose poking into his thigh.

“What is it, my Ci Annwn?”

“He probably wants to feed. There are no more souls for him to hunt,” said Nijal, reaching over Brynnan’s body to pet the great dog.

“Thee has been a good lad. Thou shalt have cheese,” said the Bard, and Ysbryd’s head lifted up sharply.

Nijal laughed, and somehow that sound eased the final shreds of the terrible tension that had gripped Brynnan since Soren’s death.

*    *    *

Nijal and Brynnan were asked to meet Captain Belisarius in his quarters. The Chief Administrator had also summoned Trading Master Tajinder and Kuruntu to settle matters concerning the young man’s fate.

Brynnan and Nijal looked on as Kuruntu faced his erstwhile Master.

“My head feels clear for the first time in several moons,” said Kuruntu. “I am so sorry for what I have done. I especially feel like I betrayed your trust, Master Tajinder. And Brynnan? that I didn’t know my borrowed power was intended to cause your death—and mine—doesn’t excuse me.

The Trading Master sternly regarded the young man as the latter spoke. “Trust is the hardest thing to regain,” he said.

Kuruntu bowed his head. “I know.”

“And how do you feel about our Settlement here in Siginak? Will you still work against it?” Belisarius looked at him, his gaze hard.

“No. I may disagree with some things, but I realize now that the choices are not mine to make. When Soren would talk to me, he sounded so convincing.”

“He used you,” said Nijal.

“I was totally taken in by him declaring that he cared about me,” said Kuruntu. “I feel like such a fool.”

“We are often fools for love,” Brynnan sighed, only thanking the Fates that his Lord, Samir, was an honourable man.

“So,” said the Captain. “Before I pass my judgment, how can you earn our trust again?”

Nijal said, “We can deep-read him as we did to you and Soren.” He turned to Kuruntu. “Are you willing to subject your body to us in the sexual act and have us hear your mind when you climax?”

“Yes. I’ll do whatever you tell me to.”

“But what if he attempts to harm Brynnan still?” Belisarius protested.

“It would no longer work. My understanding has grown about these matters.” The Bard did not elaborate.

“Gentes, let us prepare ourselves and meet here again in one bell’s time,” said the Captain. “And Master Tajinder, I would request that you join us.”

The noon bell rang as the five men met once more in the Captain’s quarters. Nijal assumed the role of Master of Ceremonies. “I suggest we pair off to raise the energy of our gathering. The more aroused Kuruntu becomes, the more successful we are likely to be.”

“I hope you’re right, Nijal,” said Kuruntu. “I confess I’m feeling nervous, and I don’t know how else I can get it up.”

“Very well. With your permission, Captain Belisarius, I’ll partner with you and make my ass available,” said Nijal. “You may as well get in more practice. Tajinder, you seemed to get on well with Brynnan, and I think the two of you will be very compatible. And Kuruntu, you watch for this ‘first round,’ as it were. It might help if you can stroke yourself.”

Tajinder regarded Brynnan with a lopsided smile on his handsome, black-bearded face. As Brynnan stripped, Tajinder’s green eyes, startling against his dark skin and hair, widened in appreciation. He leaned forward and kissed the Bard, probing his mouth forcefully with his tongue.

“We meet again. I have wanted to repeat our previous joining, but I am only sorry it is in such dire circumstances. Let’s hope Kuruntu will be able to pass his test,” the Master Trader said in his deep voice.

Brynnan felt himself responding to Tajinder’s strong male dominance. He stroked Tajinder’s chest, pausing at his nipples.

“Suck them,” commanded Tajinder, and Brynnan did so. He teased them with his lips, pulling at them before lapping them with his tongue and sucking them. The Master then directed Brynnan to the couch to suck his substantial cock in its nest of black curls.

Brynnan found relief in his actions as he knelt and took the stiffening cock in his mouth, tasting the salty pre-cum. The distraction steered his thoughts away from the terrible events of the previous day when he had led Soren’s soul to the final gate.

Meanwhile, Nijal was already being fucked by Belisarius. He crouched, half-kneeling, on the bed while the Captain took his ass, gripping the Guardian’s hips. For only his second time penetrating another man, Belisarius seemed to be doing fine.

Tajinder called Kuruntu over to the couch. “Sit, observe Brynnan and me, and I want you to masturbate while you do,” he said.

Kuruntu obeyed, although he could not meet the Master’s eyes. He stroked his cock until it became erect, pulling at it and kneading the head. Then he began to jack himself off.

“Now, Brynnan, I am going to fuck you. Kneel on the couch,” directed the Trading Master.

Then Tajinder moved up behind the Bard and used the lubricant Nijal had brought. He fingered Brynnan’s rectal opening, fucking him with three fingers while Brynnan waited for the cock to follow. When Tajinder pushed it in, he moaned, “That’s so good, Master. I ask that you fuck me hard.”

Tajinder laughed. “I like to see you wanting it so much, Brynnan. Do you want it enough to beg for it?”

Brynnan obliged, needing partly to see how Kuruntu reacted to Tajinder’s dominance and the other part of him genuinely responding to the man’s commanding presence.

“Master Tajinder, I plead. I need to feel your cock inside me, to be taken by you.”

The words excited the Master Trader. He seized Brynnan’s hair with one hand and gripped his hip with the other; then, without delay, pushed his cock into the Bard’s anal opening. It was only at the end of his deep thrust that he paused, then began to pump his cock in and out.

He turned to Kuruntu and warned him, “Keep masturbating yourself, but don’t you cum until Brynnan has had a chance to fuck you!" 

The Master Trader tightened his grip on Brynnan's hair, pulling his head back to control him. "As for you, Brynnan, I want to put my cock in deeper.” So saying, Tajinder increased his thrusts. Perhaps the sight of Belisarius and Nijal cumming together spurred him on because all too soon, he cried out, gave several final thrusts and shot his sperm inside the Bard. Then he leaned forward and kissed Brynnan’s neck before he withdrew.

“Kuruntu, take Brynnan’s place. He will fuck you now, and it’s time to show your goodwill.”

As Kuruntu knelt on the couch, Belisarius offered, “Don’t be afraid of the mind-melding. I have undergone it myself. There is no cause for alarm unless you have been less than honest with us.”

Brynnan, getting into position, placed his hand on Kuruntu’s shoulder and squeezed it to reassure the young man. ‘Now,’ he thought. ‘I’ll find out!’

As Kuruntu was already aroused, Brynnan took very little time on foreplay—only the lubricant—before he pushed his cock inside Kuruntu’s ass. So far, so good. He began to thrust cautiously at first, then with increasing abandon. The fucking seemed to sweep the blond-haired youth into a zone of surrender, and Brynnan could tell that their mutual ejaculation was imminent as he intensified his thrusts. He could feel it building. . .building, and then he arrived at his climax, shooting his cum into Kuruntu and feeling simultaneously the young man’s cum flooding over his hand.

Kuruntu’s mind opened to Brynnan, who garnered the youth’s thoughts: ‘Gods, this feels so good! . . .I hope they believe me . . . I don’t want to die . . . I should have told them about Lord Mellea of Hesperon in the first place . . .Soren used me—I will never let myself care for anyone again . . .but what of Master Tajinder? Would he ever forgive me? Would he ever care about me? . . . I have no right to interfere in the fate of others . . .’

Brynnan, using just passive intervention, listened a little longer to Kuruntu’s confused mental ramblings until he was convinced there was nothing more significant to learn.

He slowly pulled out and told Kuruntu, “Stand up and turn around.”

As the young man stood looking at him in puzzlement, Brynnan knelt and sucked the cum off the still-hard cock. He read Kuruntu’s intentions, and finding them innocent, he lingered for a little, then stood.

He sent a thought to Nijal, ‘I find him clear, except that he forgot to mention the Hesperon Lord. He’s worried about that.’

‘Good. Give him the chance to speak, then we will defer matters to Belisarius.’

And indeed, when Belisarius asked if there was anything the young man wished to say, Kuruntu was eager to explain. “Administrator Belisarius, I neglected to tell you about messages I passed, and received from, a Lord in Hesperon who supported Soren and the Necromancer’s efforts . . .”

He continued and described details to them that the Bard already knew. He listened critically, and when the young man finished, Brynnan judged that Kuruntu had left nothing out.

Belisarius ruled: “Kuruntu, I am inclined to give you another chance. If Master Tajinder agrees, I will turn you over to his supervision to serve again as his assistant. Furthermore, whenever your rounds take you to Torrent Mountain, if Brynnan or Nijal is there, I ask they subject you to deep-reading. Do the parties agree?

They agreed, although Brynnan thought he would use Mavrenn to elicit truth next time instead of his own body.

Then Kuruntu looked at Tajinder, and it didn’t need deep-reading to tell that the young man hoped the Trading Master would accept him. Tajinder considered him in return, then, after a long pause, he held out a beckoning arm to the young man. Kuruntu went to him, and Tajinder wrapped his arm around his assistant’s shoulder and pulled him against his side.

“Come. You have been away from your duties too long. I will expect much hard work from you to catch up.” He looked at Belisarius, who nodded, and Tajinder steered Kuruntu to the door.

When they had left, the Captain said, “I don’t know how to thank both of you. Now that the Necromancer and Strategist Soren are not here, perhaps Siginak can continue to make progress.”

“There will be others who disagree,” said Nijal.

“Yes, but not many. Our mission statement throughout the Long Dark, unchanged through all our generations, was to find a home. We found one, and after our initial misguided contact, the people have expressed to me how much they desire success. We will continue to work with you and honour our agreement with the Alliance.”

“Notwithstanding dissidents on our side, like this Lord Mellea,” said Brynnan.

“Together, our City councils will deal with them. I especially rely on Warlord Samir, architect of the Pact, to put his resources on this.”

“He will,” replied Brynnan. “I will be sure to remind him.”

As they left the Captain’s quarters, Belisarius thanked Nijal for sharing his body with him, and the Guardian merely seized the surprised man and kissed him erotically.

*    *    *

They began their journey home the following day. Now that their task was finished, Brynnan could hardly wait to be in the Warlord’s arms again.

Perhaps Nijal divined that, for he said, “You know, if you ask Samir, he will probably allow you to go on ahead and take the Shadow-ways. Your horse can manage them, as Llwydrew, your Father’s stallion, is her sire. You would also have Ysbryd with you.”

In response, Brynnan frowned, saying, “Wouldn’t dream of it. We began this adventure together, Nijal, and we will finish it together. Besides, I like spending time in your company, my dear friend. And also, Samir would flog me hard if I returned ahead of you.”

They entered a cut in the roadway, surrounded by rocks. Riding close to each other, Nijal saw Brynnan’s head jerk upright.

Brynnan could hear the speeding arrows. He slipped outside of time and into the Shadow-ways. The shafts had nearly reached him and would have pierced his back, but now they hovered in the air. He reached out and simply took hold of them, forcing one arrow to face the other direction and then clasping the two together. Their combined momentum cancelled their forward motion, and the arrows lay easily in his hand. He switched back into the stream of time.

To Nijal, it looked as if Brynnan’s presence vibrated, and his position shifted slightly to reveal the two arrows gripped in his fist.

“Where—?”

Brynnan pointed even as they both moved quickly to the shelter of trees.

“Ysbryd!” Brynnan called the dog. “Track, don’t kill!”

The dog moved off instantly, using the Shadow-ways himself. Some way down the road, Brynnan and Nijal heard screams.

They found Ysbryd pinning two men against a rock. He was not in his supernatural aspect but looked fearsome enough with his hair standing on end and savagely bared teeth.

One man was dressed as an archer, with arrows, quiver and arm-guard, while the other grasped the hilt of a sheathed dagger, afraid to draw it. Brynnan recognized him as the Administrator from the previous day’s meeting who had turned pale when he heard of the Necromancer’s death.

“Are there more of you?” asked the Bard.

The men remained stubbornly silent.

Brynnan sighed. “Ysbryd, show them!”

And Ysbryd transformed into a living nightmare. The Administrator blurted out, “No, we are the last. Have mercy!”

Brynnan read the truth in his fear-induced statement. He gestured at Ysbryd and turned away as the dog’s aspect grew exponentially more frightening. Both men collapsed to the ground, dead from terror, and the dog took their souls, disappearing with them.

In no time at all, Ysbryd returned, minus souls. He appeared dog-like again, although his hair stood out at his neck.

Brynnan looked at Nijal. “You were saying something about me going on ahead?”

“Never mind. You and Ysbryd present a convincing argument.”

*    *    *

After days of travel, they arrived at the junction of the main road south and the road to Siginak. A party of horsemen waited ahead at the staging area. Brynnan and Nijal already knew who they were, having mind-sent a message beforehand.

One figure detached from the group and cantered towards them.

“My Lord!” Brynnan exclaimed with a surge of joy as he leapt from Rhiannon’s saddle. He flung himself into Samir’s arms. The others arrived, including Geraint and Alanus with his guards, but Brynnan did not care who saw them as Samir framed his face and kissed him deeply.

“My heart’s love  . . .” Samir said. “You are finally back in my arms. Tonight, don’t count on sleeping.”

“Anything, my lover . . .” Brynnan replied, feeling tears slide down his cheeks.

“Anything? Ah, there is a problem in Narib, and Prince Jehanadir requests aid—”

“My Lord Samir, I have never yet refused a direct order from you . . .“ He looked Samir in the eyes—and saw the laughter in them.

“You are teasing me!” Brynnan said incredulously.

“Yes. We are staying home for the foreseeable future. If someone is in need, I will let Geraint go. He has been fretting for action,” Samir chuckled.

Geraint promptly interrupted, “With respect, m’Lord. I am still keeping an eye on you after you rode off without your guard.”

Samir looked fondly at his old friend. “Then I will just have to invite you and Nijal to join with Brynnan and me, and I’ll show you action—but not tonight. Tonight the Bard is all mine.”

“Tonight and every night, Lord. And when we take our final journey to Annwn, I will still be yours,” said Brynnan.

Samir smiled, “My Bard, I think you are a fool for love!”

*    *    *

End