Brynnan: The Alsar Imperative : Chapter 3

A Lesson in Acceptance

The Warlord found Kyros, leader of the Torrent Mountain chapter of the Deieros warriors, in the bathhouse complex next to the practice arena. The large stone structure featured pools, shower rooms, a steam room and a massage area, all powered by the mountain’s hot and cold mineral springs.

Kyros swam in a large pool fed by an inflow of fresh, cool water gushing from a port in the stone wall. The water jet foamed and sent ripples through the pool, massaging the swimmers’ limbs. It was considered to therapeutically benefit those warriors bruised and tired from the arena exercises.

Kyros’ young eromenos, Orion, greeted Geraint enthusiastically, even as he bowed formally to Samir and Brynnan.

“Will you join us in the water?” Orion asked them.

“As you see, lad, we are stripped and showered. M’Lord Samir thinks this is an ideal place to talk for some strange reason,” said Geraint, placing a hairy arm around Orion’s bare shoulders.

Brynnan did not hesitate to dive into the deep pool. With powerful, swift strokes, he swam out to Kyros, who had not seen the three men arrive and was startled to meet Brynnan face to face. His surprise turned to pleasure, however. Over the passing seasons, their guarded friendship had grown into a more relaxed camaraderie as Brynnan would sometimes participate in the Dance of Cuts with Kyros and his men. So he was not surprised when Kyros embraced him in the water and kissed him. Their bodies pressed together under the pool’s surface, and the Bard felt Kyros’ partial erection rub against him in the cool water.

“Samir is here with Geraint,” said the Bard. “They speak with Orion even now. Let’s go to the shallows away from this turbulence, although I could happily stay.”

The Strategos agreed, and they raced each other to the far side where their friends had gathered. Brynnan proved the faster swimmer with his gymnastic agility and core strength. He revelled in feeling his naked body awake and alive as he touched the tiled wall moments before Kyros.

Samir’s grey eyes glinted with amusement as he watched his lover and the Deieros leader. He dove under the water and came up beside them.

“My Lord Samir,” Kyros greeted him. “My Lord Samir,” Kyros greeted him. “Is there a reason we are meeting here, or should we go to one of the rooms?”

“We won’t be overheard here. It’s noisy, and we can see who approaches,” the Warlord replied.

“I had no idea the topic was so sensitive. I understand you are leaving Torrent Mountain for a time and that I am to coordinate with General Mirza, the troop captains and the head of the city guard while you are away. Are you expecting trouble?”

“Not here, I think. But I want you to post watches and be on the lookout for any Alsar who come into the citadel,” Samir instructed.

“How will I know them? They don’t always disclose themselves.”

“In this case, they will, I believe. Brynnan is in communication with Nijal Silverhand. Those whom you encounter will also be pressing on to Narib. Let them know we have taken the Scarfell Route,” Samir replied.

Kyros visibly shivered. “I hope you’ll avoid the high trail to Brynnan’s tomb. It is an area that holds troubling memories of when I stood watch there with Geraint.”

“We will not go there, but for me, it’s just a place with no terrors. The important thing is that Brynnan is with me now.”

“In that, I rejoice, as the Gods are my witness,” said Kyros. He looked at Brynnan. “From an unfortunate beginning, I am proud to call you my friend, not just my sparring partner in the Dance.”

“If we had time, I would celebrate that with you and Orion. But perhaps my Lord will permit me on our return.”

“And I, too, wish we had time,” said Geraint, standing chest-deep in the water. “As it is, your eromenos is taking liberties with my cock, if you must know.”

Leaning against Geraint’s furry breast, Orion blushed and lowered his gaze, his hand faltering on the man’s erect penis.

“I’m fully aware of my boy’s attentions to you, old Warrior. He will answer to me afterwards.” But Kyros was smiling: he and Geraint were close.

They concluded their meeting with a visit to the massage room, where attendants rubbed their flesh with perfumed oils. However, Orion attended to his erastes, making up for his play with the old Warrior by stroking Kyros’ cock to ejaculation.

Geraint, enjoying the physical attentions of a young attendant, sighed and said, “You Deieros here are spoiled. The facilities are not so extensive at the practice arena in the Redoubt.”

“We share it with the Garrison soldiers,” Kyros replied. “We consider our service to Torrent Mountain well-rewarded, although we could wish for more action. Since our march to Hesperon, things have been quiet.”

But Samir said thoughtfully, “I am trained for war but have long ago sated my lust for killing spuriously. I’m thankful for our current peace, although I will not countenance any threats to our city-state.”

“Then may our peace continue and your mission to Narib prosper,” replied Kyros.

* * *

Samir left the following day with Brynnan and Geraint and was attended by thirty of his personal guardsmen. Their intention was to travel lightly and swiftly. It took them three days to reach Scarfell Pass, and they camped by the mountain lake on the way to the summit. Brynnan felt a certain apprehension as memories of the past flooded his mind, but their stay was without incident. When they continued their journey and passed the turnoff to the high trail, Geraint pulled his horse, Shade, protectively alongside the Warlord’s horse, Malpaisan, who reacted and fretted at the place. Apparently, the stallion remembered the disturbing events that had caused him to actually bolt from his master’s side.

They eventually reached the approach to Redstone Holding, the current seat of the main body of the Deireos Brotherhood that had taken service with the Warlord. As they navigated the river crossing that separated them from the fortress, warriors rode down to meet them, led by the Strategos, Arcturus, himself. As always, his eromenos, Asirin, was at his right hand.

“Did you encounter any brigands along the way?” the Strategos asked Samir. “There has been an increase in them. We have caught quite a few, and they hail from a holding in Hesperon, whose Lord was killed.”

“General Mirza’s troops and your brothers, commanded by Kyros, have recently returned from clearing out the malcontents there. It was held by Lord Mellea, who Geraint personally slew. We’ll discuss it this evening, and you can give me the tallies. These renegades strayed far, it seems,” said the Warlord.

“This region apparently attracts them. There were many unguarded farms and villages in the valleys until we arrived,” said Asirin, speaking beside his lover.

“I’m sure the inhabitants are grateful. You are an asset to us,” replied Samir courteously.

Conversation at supper in the Great Hall concentrated on the activities of the Brotherhood until Arcturus asked, “But what of your own mission, Samir? From your messenger, I know that you are travelling to Narib to deal with some business there. Are the Sojourners from the starship causing trouble?”

“Not to my knowledge, although our current concern involves Nijal Silverhand, who heads their medical training program. But it is a matter for the Guardians and has a bearing on my Bard, Brynnan. We are unsure of the exact nature of the problem, but Nijal has called us to Narib, and I trust him implicitly.”

“It seems like a strange business. However, I am sending a troop of my men to accompany you and your guard. Asirin will lead it. It is time he had a chance to further develop his skills.”

Asirin placed his hand on his lover’s arm. “And I am grateful, my Lord and love. I will do my best, although I admit I’ll count the passing days.”

“You will soon be mentoring young Arton in more advanced aspects,” replied Arcturus. “It’s important that you show leadership independently of me, although you have been my right hand these many years. Never fear; we will continue our bond with each other.”

After noticing the warm exchange between the two partners, Samir glanced at Brynnan and received a dark-eyed look of affirmation from his lover.

“But come,” said Arcturus. “Your Bard must play for us. It has been a long time since I heard his harp and voice. And later, I invite you, Brynnan and Geraint to attend Asirin and me in our quarters—if you will consider sharing our bodies. It is high time I extended my peace to your Bard, whom I once misused in my ignorance.”

“It will be a lesson in acceptance for my lover,” said Samir, a knowing glint in his eye.

“I am at your command, my Lords,” Brynnan said non-committally, taking his harp and walking to a nearby bench.

As he sounded the first notes on the harp’s strings, Brynnan reflected that it was the second time he had played in these halls; the first time he had been when striving to beguile and mesmerize a cruel Lord and his court. He had used all his art in the Shadow-singing technique to lull them into a trance state. Now, he employed no skills other than his playing, without any esoteric methods. As always, the joy of Mavrenn’s voice filled him, and he felt the harp’s spirit melding with his own. Together they captured the hearts of all the listeners present. He gave them mostly warrior’s ballads but finished with some songs that celebrated love and loyalty to a partner, tapping into that special bond which characterized the warriors of the Deieros Brotherhood. At the finish, they let him go with reluctance.

* * *

Samir stood naked under the fall of water in the bathing chamber. “I find it hard to believe that any should take issue with your harp, my lover,” he said to Brynnan, who was scrubbing his Lord’s muscular back.

“Nijal did not say that the Alsar sought to destroy or harm her in any way, just that there’s a problem. The images he sent to my mind were unclear. For him not to explain fully must mean that the issue is extremely sensitive or complicated.”

“Best not speculate,” Geraint said. “We will find out when we arrive. With the addition of an equal number of Deieros to our guard, we should encounter no trouble and be able to move swiftly. I wish we could all be like you, Brynnan, able to shift our bodies through the Shadow-ways and arrive almost instantaneously. For Nijal to wait for us slow land-travellers must be significant.”

“Don’t forget that the Alsar can only travel overland physically, although their minds may work in concert from anywhere,” added the Bard.

Geraint changed the subject. “So we prepare ourselves for our tryst with Asirin and Arcturus. Aren’t you nervous, Brynnan?”

“You know I bow to inevitabilities, and it seems this is one,” the Bard replied with a sigh. “Arcturus fucked me once without my consent as part of a group rape, but I no longer hold that against him. It seems the least of my worries.”

“You will engage them with compassionate enthusiasm, my lover,” Samir directed. “I want no long-suffering expressions from you.”

“I hear you, dear heart. I will strive to find my compassion.”

After bathing, they dressed and relaxed with a cup of wine until the appointed time. But when they entered Arcturus’ chambers, Brynnan found himself oddly unstressed, so he warmly greeted the Strategos and his eromenos, Asirin.

Arton, the young, red-haired page served them and withdrew with apparent reluctance. Asirin ruffled the lad’s hair and said, “Your turn will arrive soon, boy.”

The room had two large reclining couches, large enough to accommodate three persons each, and a divan. Samir stripped and lay on his side with Brynnan in front of him. Geraint and Asirin took the other couch by unspoken agreement as Arcturus joined Samir and Brynnan. The Strategos bent over and kissed them both on the mouth first, then ran his hands down Brynnan’s body to his cock. Using an oil, he worked it into his hands and stroked the Bard’s rising erection. Samir wrapped his arms around Brynnan, pinning him against his body, as Arcturus seated himself on the couch, then bent down to suck his nipples before licking his cock. Brynnan gave a slight moan when Arcturus took it in his mouth, and, being restrained by Samir, the Bard could not prevent him. The slow, sensuous sucking seemed to arouse the Warlord, whose own stallion’s cock sprung erect, thrusting through the Bard’s open thighs. Arcturus switched to suck that cock’s broad head, lapping the precum that dripped from its tip before moving back to Brynnan’s.

“Take him,” offered Samir, rolling the bard so that he was spread chest-to-chest over Samir’s body, legs open to make his rectal portal available to the Deieros Lord.

Arcturus knelt between Brynnan and Samir’s legs, pressing against the Warlord’s intruding cock. He maneuvered to push his own stiff shaft against Brynnan’s opening. Pouring more oil on it, he thrust his cock inside, overcoming an initial resistance. Arcturus sighed and braced himself with his arms.

Now Samir’s huge cock was rubbing against Brynnan’s, and as Arcturus thrust in further, Samir moved his hips in a fucking motion against his lover’s penis.

Brynnan surrendered to the sensations. His Lord had commanded him to take Arcturus’s shaft inside his ass, so the Bard allowed himself to feel an animal pleasure in being fucked. His cock throbbed with arousal as he felt Samir’s cock rub against his. He moaned louder as Arcturus increased his strokes, pumping steadily into his ass.

Samir kissed Brynnan’s mouth, raping it with his tongue. He signalled Arcturus to pull out, then the Warlord took Brynnan’s ass from below, reaming him unmercifully. Brynnan was lost in the sensations, giving himself to his lover until the Bard felt another cock pushing at him. When Arcturus’ cock joined Samir’s, Brynnan wondered if he could take them both, but he was acclimated to the Warlord’s outsized shaft. Arcturus fucked him along with Samir until the Strategos, with a loud cry, pulled out and masturbated furiously. His cum spilled all over Brynnan’s ass, and at that moment, Samir came, too, inside him. Brynnan could feel the hot eruption, which triggered his orgasm, causing his seed to spread between his belly and Samir’s.

Meanwhile, Geraint and Asirin had not been quiet. The old Warrior had laid Asirin on his back and sucked his cock and ball sack, pulling at it with his lips and taking each testicle in his mouth. His ministrations were so exquisite that Asirin was almost weeping with pleasure. Finally, Geraint sucked Asirin to ejaculation after a long, teasing time, edging him mercilessly. Asirin had to take time to recover, held in Geraint’s furry arms, before he could return the favour, sucking the old Warrior’s girthy cock and licking his pendulous balls.

“Roll over, lad, let me fuck you,” Geraint said, and the young man complied. The old Warrior thrust into him hard, not playing around this time, until he shot his load in Asirin’s ass.

After a rest and some wine, a second round was enacted, with Samir fucking Arcturus and Brynnan taking Asirin until the participants were replete. Geraint, again with Asirin, boasted that he could continue all night, which was undoubtedly true: for an older man, his sexual stamina seemed unparalleled.

They washed each other in the bathing room, rested, and talked until Samir announced he would sleep. Geraint stayed to play a game of dice in Asirin’s quarters with some of the young man’s friends.

* * *

In their own chamber, Brynnan lay quietly in the Warlord’s arms pondering the evening’s play. Arcturus was not his natural choice of a partner: there seemed to be an unspoken challenge between the two men as if the leader sought to best him, but his lover had directed his actions. Samir’s stated “lesson in acceptance” was received.

Brynnan awoke in the night to Nijal’s mind call. He kept still, first checking for listeners. Finding none, he mentally responded. ‘Nijal, you call me, and I answer. Is there trouble?’

‘An Alsar tells me he is on his way to meet you: a Guardian named Azander.’

‘Should I be concerned? Why tell me in the middle of the night?’

‘Because I do not know him. He was not part of our group that challenged the Invaders. He says he was far beyond the Toothed Mountains at the time, at our listening post that tracked the starship. But he knows about you—not your heritage, of course, but about you as the Marec Mavrenn. If you meet him, just be circumspect,’ Nijal sent.

‘As I always am,’ Brynnan replied. ‘But I appreciate your warning.’

Nijal sent, ‘This is the self-image I get from his mind . . .’

A picture formed of a tall, young-seeming man with dark russet hair and blue/gold eyes. He had that ageless quality that the Alsar shared. Brynnan was intrigued.

‘Is he affiliated with those that have expressed their concerns to you?’ he asked Nijal.

‘Not in the way you mean. But he inserts himself into the matter in an unusual way, so I say to you, tell him nothing and guard your mind until we meet in person.’

‘Now you begin to worry me . . .’ the Bard replied.

‘My friend, we cannot afford to take things for granted in this situation. Hurry and come.’

‘We leave Redstone tomorrow with an additional Deieros guard,’ Brynnan sent to his friend.

There was a pause, and Brynnan felt a gentle touch at his mind, almost a caress.

‘The evening’s activities were not entirely to your liking,’ Nijal’s mind voice was sympathetic.

‘I can’t hide anything from you, old friend. No, but I was obedient to my Lord.’

Nijal’s non-response was eloquent.

* * *

Bad weather pursued them in the ensuing days. Rain squalls swept the hills they had descended into as they sought a direct route to Hesperon, but it did not slow them down significantly, although their camps were not the most comfortable. Here and there, they encountered ruins; chiselled blocks of man-high granite rock streaked with glittering mica crystals. The troop sheltered in the lee of a wall section at one place.

Brynnan examined the stones closely. Some had markings carved into them, almost reminiscent of the sigils that branded his chest. Curious, he laid his hand upon them. A flood of images pervaded his mind, noises of battle and destruction. Energy beams that blasted the walls and the cries of the inhabitants as they died. He pulled away as if burned.

Nijal’s familiar touch stroked his mind, and more images came with his voice. ‘It is another of our ruins. The Alsar here were almost all destroyed by your human ancestors.’

‘And yet you help us,’ Brynnan sent back.

‘You and I, and many of your people in Armorica, believe in the directive of the Mother-of-All. Meet our minds tonight, and we will listen to Her song.’

‘It has been long since I was in Her presence,’ Brynnan replied.

He was interrupted by the Captain of the Warlord’s guard. “Brynnan, our watchmen are reporting a rider sighted, heading this way. Naturally, I have informed Lord Samir and the Deieros leader, Asirin; but I thought you should know.”

“Thank you, Alanus. Let me see . . .” Brynnan closed his eyes and concentrated. Alanus knew Brynnan had powers he did not understand but accepted. He waited beside the Bard.

There was no time to send out his spirit form, but the Bard let his mind range, touching on the sparks of consciousness of the men of their band, then ranging further. An odd “flavour” occurred—a metallic taint like the taste of copper on the tongue; that was the only way Brynnan could think of it. Then a sharp probe attempted to pierce his mind.

Brynnan easily shielded and instead sent to the probe’s originator, ‘That’s no way to greet an ally if it’s our friendship you seek. Be polite.’

Amusement met his awareness. ‘You are correct to chastise me. Forgive me . . .Brynnan Marec Mavrenn, if I guess rightly?’

Brynnan sampled the mind and replied, ‘Correct. And you are an Alsar, possibly named Azander?’

A burst of surprise answered him. ‘You are perceptive. And here are your guards arriving. I present no threat.’

‘Let them escort you, Azander. They will bring you to our Warlord.’

He broke contact with the visitor and, accompanied by Alanus, walked to the fire that had been kindled, where the young guardsman Danan brewed a hot tea for the troops’ leaders. Samir was seated against the wall with Asirin and his second in command, the Lochagos Cadmus and Geraint.

Samir gestured to Brynnan. “Sit: I am in no hurry to greet this approaching stranger.”

Brynnan crouched down. “My Lord, he is an Alsar Guardian named Azander. I spoke with him after he attempted to probe my mind,” said the Bard.

The Warlord frowned. “Is that so? You will let me know if he attempts any influence on me.”

“I will, my Lord, but I have warned him to behave.”

Samir uttered a low laugh. “He apparently doesn’t know who he deals with!”

“He knew my name. But as for other aspects . . .” Brynnan left the implication unsaid.

“Is he to be trusted? Alsar or no, attempting to probe your mind sends warning signals to me.”

“I thought the Alsar were trustworthy,” said Asirin.

“They can be trusted to serve the Mother-of-All and are dedicated to preserving our world. They usually act in concert, but even so, they do not have a hive mind, like bees, and can act independently. I do not know this individual who comes, and Nijal has not personally met him either,” Brynnan told them.

Asirin and Geraint frowned, but the Warlord seemed unruffled. “We’ll keep an open mind and see.”

But Brynnan knew that his Lord and lover would be on the alert, despite his calm demeanour, and he was glad.

* * *

To be continued . . .

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