Col and Andri: The Summer Queen

Chapter 1: Beginning The Journey

It began with a Sending. Col, lying in his lover Andri’s arms, was pleasantly worn out from lovemaking. So his mind was relaxed and open when a voice there began to call his name. He recognized its source: Eleni the Seer, an old woman of the Wanderers; a prophetess and mind-traveller.

‘Col, listen to me,’ came the call.

Col responded, formulating images and thoughts. ‘Grandmother. I hear you. What is your message?’

‘You are going on a journey.’

‘Yes, we start in the morning. Summer comes. Andri and I have been invited to go to Yrys, King Cyndyllan’s city,’ Col replied. Then he added, ‘I expect you have a warning for me. You usually do.’

‘Precocious whelp!’ There was laughter in the Sending. ‘Yes. There is a warning.’

‘Tell me.’

‘It involves one chosen by Andri. Beware their power. Your lover Andri will trigger this ability. He will be at risk.’

The young Horsemaster felt a sudden chill. Where his lover was concerned, he would do anything for him. ‘How can I help him, Grandmother?’

‘You must stand before him. Be the lead stallion that puts himself  between danger and the mare he protects.’

Col experienced the familiar frustration he often felt when dealing with Eleni’s Sendings. There were seldom any specific instructions, but he knew that discerning a future was challenging to describe, so he schooled himself to patience.

‘I shall keep watch over him,’ he promised.

But his Grandmother was not yet done. ‘For you, I see both a challenge that will cost you but also a gift that will change the course of your life if you let it come to pass.’

Col sighed. He knew he could not escape Eleni’s prophetic visions without a cryptic warning. If only she were more specific! But he had learned to accept her portents with an open mind, so he had to forego questioning her.

‘I love you, Grandmother. Give my love to Father and Rafe and to his new wife. Tell my brother to stay out of trouble.’

‘I keep you in my heart, dear grandson.’

Abruptly, the presence in his mind was gone. The exchange had been short, but Col knew the toll such mind-work exacted on his Grandmother was steep. He pondered whether to wake his lover and tell him but decided to wait until morning. They would be beginning their journey from the Ruithin College of ArMor-ys, down the mountain trail to Yrys. Andri would need his rest.

*    *    *

When Col awoke early in the morning, he tried to get up quietly to dress before dawn, but a hand stopped him.

“Is it that time already?” Andri said sleepily.

“Yes, you know I have to get to the stables and ready the horses. Master Gabrien would speak with me also.”

“The grooms can ready the horses. Delay just a little and come here. I want to suck you,” murmured the young singer.

“I suppose I must listen to you,” replied Col, but there was laughter in his voice. He returned to the bed and lay beside Andri.

Andri moved down until he could reach Col’s handsome cock. He bent his head and licked it slowly, cupping Col’s testicles in his left hand and kneading them. The young Horsemaster groaned.

“Suck my karbaro—my big cock. Don’t let me stop you, now.”

“I won’t.’ Andri felt his lover’s hands twine in his blond-streaked hair, holding his head down. He took the hard, dusky cock in his mouth and sucked the head, playing with his tongue in the piss-slit and then swirling it around the sensitive frenum. He moved his hand to grasp the base of the cock, feeding it into his mouth.

“You’re so good when you are bad,” moaned Col.

“Mmmf . . .”

Andri then took the entire cock, deep-throating it, moving his head up and down, so his mouth caressed the whole length. Then he increased the tempo.

“Aah! You’re driving me mad. I am going to cum soon.”

Andri sucked harder and faster.

“You animal!” laughed Col. “I can feel it coming. Take it, swallow my cum!” He bucked his hips, thrusting into Andri’s throat as the spasms occurred, shooting jets of hot cum into his lover’s mouth.

Andri gratefully swallowed every drop. He gently licked the sensitive head as Col twitched and rested on his lover’s loins.

“Mmm . . . I really want to do you, my lover, but duty calls. I can’t delay more, but thanks, that was wonderful.”

“Maybe we will get enough privacy when we stop at the hostel tonight. It’s three days journey to Yrys,” mused Andri.

“Count on it. Tut kamav,” replied Col, using the Wanderer’s phrase for ‘I love you.’  He leaned down and kissed Andri sensuously on the mouth, probing with his tongue. Then he dressed in travelling gear and put on his cloak. “Don’t forget to bring our packs,’ he reminded his lover as he left the room.

*    *    *

After stopping at the mess hall for some breakfast, Col arrived at the stable complex of the College. Grooms had already brought out several horses. Their travelling party would consist of himself and Andri, two Ruithin priests, a bard of a high order, and two guards. Their journey would take them down the winding mountain trail, through pine forests and past the Crag of Angels, a high rugged peak where once the Invaders from the stars had attempted to destroy part of the crag to block the passage.

Col reflected on that event. The attempt had been thwarted by Master Bard and son of the Underworld King, Brynnan Marec Mavrenn. After his endeavours, Brynnan had visited Col and Andri, and the three of them had engaged in sexual acts that restored Brynnan’s energy and powers. Brynnan was Andri’s former Bardic Master and had trained him on the long journey to the ArMor-ys College, all the way from Torrent Mountain.

“Col! Are you still sleeping? Master Gabrien is calling you,” one of the grooms hailed him as he entered the stable compound.

Col abruptly brought himself back to the present. “It’s true, Keven; I was dreaming a bit.” He hurried over to where Master Gabrien stood, looking impatient.

“I expected you earlier, Col,” he admonished.

“Sorry, Master. Andri had an important task to perform for me.”

The Horsemaster raised his eyes heavenwards. “I can only guess what that important task was. But now you have important tasks here. As my apprentice and main assistant, I need you to pay attention at all times. I have assigned the horses. I want one of the guards to take Aristan, that troublesome grey gelding. That horse needs the discipline of travelling with other horses. I want you to keep an eye on them.”

Col looked at his Master, seeing a tall, muscular man with iron-grey hair cut short and a trimmed beard. He looked both severe and capable and was an expert horseman and fighter. They worked well together, but lately, Col had noticed a sexual tension developing in their relationship.

“Can one of the grooms mount him now?” Col asked his Master. “I want to see his temperament this morning.”

“Keven!” Gabrien called the groom who had spoken to Col. “Bring over Aristan and get up on him. Take him a turn around the courtyard.

Keven complied. He led the recalcitrant horse over. It held its head high, looking around wildly, and Its ears were back. The gelding tried to move out the way as Keven went to mount, but the groom was quick and leapt up. The horse reared.

“Bring him down! Don’t accept that behaviour!” barked Gabrien.

“I’m trying! He’s got the bit between his teeth. He’s not listening!” Keven replied, ineffectually pulling down on the reins as the horse reared up again.

“’ Tuj ušteha!’” Col cried out in a sharp, loud voice.

The horse stopped rearing and stood still.

Gabrien looked at Col. Keven looked at Col.

“That’s a Wanderer’s trick, right?” said Keven.

Col shrugged. Then he said, “Are you sure we should take him, Master? We should change that horse’s name from ‘Aristan” to ‘Prikaza’—‘Bad Omen’ in my tongue.” He turned to the rider. “Now, Keven, walk him forward. If you feel him tensing up, circle him tightly until he is on the bit again and listening to you.”

Master Gabrien looked at his assistant with approval, and something more . . . “Very good. The journey will only improve that horse if you make sure his rider brooks no nonsense. When you return, we will discuss his training—and other things . . . Now let’s prepare the rest. Our travellers will be here shortly.”

Their party finally arrived. Andri was there with two of his fellow students carrying his and Col’s packs. Their friend, the third-level Bardic apprentice, Celyn, was one of the two. Col had taken Celyn’s ass in a sexual adventure not long before, and it had been Celyn’s first time.

It took only a short time to arrange the disposition of everyone; the riders and pack ponies. Finally, as the sun rose, they set off to the well-wishes of friends. It was nearly the beginning of summer, and the forest was alive with the calls of birds. Patches of purple bell flowers and wild roses bloomed in the clearings by the side of the trail. A stream ran alongside them, providing water for the horses. Sunlight shone in beams through the trees, and dew sparkled like jewels on the grass.

Andri felt both joy and excitement. He had only left the College once since his Master, Brynnan, had placed him there, and that was to attend a conference in distant Narib, home of the Red Prince, Jehanadir. Since that time, Andri had been hard at work studying the Bardic profession, learning the discipline of martial arts and developing his skilled baritone voice. Then, a moon ago, the Graduation Ceremony had seen Andri become a second-level apprentice. He knew that there were years left of study to go, so this adventure, at the behest of King Cyndyllan, was very welcome. He had an important assignment to perform at Yrys: he was to choose someone who would become the Summer Deity, usually a girl on the cusp of maturity. It was an ancient nature ritual celebrated for countless years.

They reached the Crag of Angels at noon, where they stopped for a meal. The crag towered above them, blocking the light on the trail, despite the sun’s height. Andri looked up instinctively.

They did not stay long. “Mount up!” Col cried, and the party took to their horses. As the Horsemaster’s representative, Col led the party as they travelled. Although their group was small, it was still an important responsibility for the young Wanderer and a sign of Gabrien’s trust in him. There were still brigands—wolf’s heads—about, although few, as patrols had kept them in check. Col had become a skilled fighter on horseback, and the two guards were also expert archers.

Late in the day, they reached the foot of the mountain trail and found their escorts from Yrys awaiting them. Six grim-faced warriors and four members of Cyndyllan’s court were assigned to them. One of the escorts was exceedingly familiar to Andri and Col.

“Cadwyr!” Andri exclaimed and rode forward to greet him while Col was discussing their journey with his counterpart in the escort.

“Well met, young friend,” the Ruithin priest and advisor to the King replied. They clasped hands as Andri leaned forward from black Kalo’s back. His horse nickered a greeting to Cadwyr’s white mare, Caila.

“I trust all is well with you. The King is pleased that you are answering his summons. He looks forward to seeing you again, as have I.”

“Yes,” replied the young singer. “I am mystified about my duties, but I’m sure all will be explained.”

“Indeed. We can talk more tonight at the hostel. It is not far now.”

“If I recall, the alcoves there are quite private, being heavily curtained,” Andri said.

“And you mention this because . . .” replied Cadwyr, but he was smiling, with a suggestive glint in his eye.

“Well . . . it will be useful for our—conversation. Col and I are looking forward to being together after the long day. I am starting to get stiff. I am not used to riding so far.”

Cadwyr laughed. “I could say something about getting stiff, but I won’t,” he replied. “Here comes Col. Let me greet him before we continue on.”

As Col rode up to them, Cadwyr said. “Young Andri was just telling me how ‘stiff’ he was getting. Our shelter for tonight will be a welcome break.”

Andri tried to look innocent. “Yes. I invited Cadwyr to join us so we can talk together.”

“Sounds like a plan. Cadwyr, it is so good to see you. I remember our last meeting, at Andri’s graduation, with fondness.”

“As do I,” replied the priest.

After the feast at the Graduation Ceremony, Andri and Col had met privately with Brynnan and Cadwyr in Cadwyr’s quarters. The four of them had celebrated by sharing their love. Brynnan had fucked Andri’s ass, and Cadwyr took Col. The memory stirred Col’s loins.

*    *    *

They came to the way-station at dusk. It was a large stone construction housing a great hall. Outside, a stable for the horses and other outbuildings spread around the main building. The monks of ArMor-ys ran it with efficient hospitality. Andri and Col’s party dismounted and, led by a monk who greeted them, went inside, leaving Col to see to the disposition of the horses, both theirs and their escorts’. Fortunately, stable-lads were available to help out.

Inside, there was a row of sleeping alcoves on one side of the long main hall, which would accommodate all their party with double occupancy. A fire trench ran down the hall’s centre, and tables were arranged on the opposite side of the alcoves. Andri had already chosen an alcove at the end of the aisle with the wall on one side, giving them more privacy.

A monk and a kitchen boy brought drinks of ale to everyone to quench their thirst from the long ride. After that, Andri was first to seek out the large bathing room, joined to the hall by a short corridor. He stripped with Col and Cadwyr to wash the road’s dust from their bodies. A long ledge ran high on the wall, and water poured over it in a single, long fall. Others joined them, stripping unselfconsciously beforehand. Cadwyr helped wash the two young men, scrubbing their backs as Col and Andri soaped each other. Then they, in turn, washed Cadwyr, rubbing their hands over his lean body. Cadwyr was no longer young: his white hair hung loosely below his shoulders, but his face had a youthful expression: its lines only added character to a life well-lived. For his age, the priest was in excellent shape.

For his part, Cadwyr admired his two young friends; Andri, tall and lithe with fair skin, blond streaked hair and grey-blue eyes. Col was just a little shorter, with light brown skin, black curling hair—currently wet and loose below his shoulders, and dark eyes. His build was muscular, with a broad chest, narrow hips and a well-shaped, firm butt. His horse training work kept him fit and strong.

Afterwards, they dressed in loose, indoor clothing and sat at a table with others where they partook of the way-station’s excellent food and more ale. Chicken broth, roast lamb with winter vegetables and spring greens, and crusty loaves of fresh bread offered a hearty meal that was welcomed by the travellers. The conversation around the table focussed on upcoming activities at the court.

“They have been preparing to celebrate the beginning of summer for weeks,” said Ellis, an older guard from King Cyndyllan’s holding, at their table. “The brew-mistress at Yrys has a special spring ale with herbs of the woodlands flavouring it and a dark malt. I always look forward to that.”

“I know you do,” replied Ryn, his younger companion. “It will show on your belly, too, if you don’t work it off.”

“I will work it off, alright. On First Summer’s Night, the maids roam free in the woods. They are most welcoming to a lusty man. Coupling on that night brings good luck to the season, and the babes born of it are known as Summer’s Children.”

“I roam the woods looking for other young lads like myself,” laughed Ryn.

“I wonder who they will choose to be Summer’s Ruler for the season?” said the bard from the Ruithin halls, Emrys.

“Some high Chieftain’s daughter, no doubt,” opined Ellis.

“It is to be impartial,” replied Emrys. “Anyone may be chosen, from the poorest villager to a princess.”

“Fairness will be ensured. We will have no favouritism here from the bard who chooses. We have made sure of that. The Forest Gods themselves will indicate their candidate to him. They will be ignored at his peril and the people’s bad luck,” said Cadwyr.

“There was that one year . . .” mused the older guard.

“Yes, and we paid for it. The crops were poor, the herds were thin, and the King was rightly furious. The bard who had schemed with the Lord whose daughter was chosen was dismissed from the Ruithin College,” said Cadwyr grimly.

“So who is doing the choosing this year?” asked Ryn. “You, Cadwyr? Or you, Bard Emrys?”

“You will have to wait and see. We want no information to leak to those who would either oppose the choice or wolf’s heads who might want to try blackmail by capturing the chooser.”

Andri was uncomfortably reminded of his journey to the ArMor-ys Redoubt and Ruithin College. He and his friends, Brynnan, the old Warrior, Geraint, and the Guardian, Nijal, had been attacked by masterless men from the woods on this same route. The three older men had fought off and killed the brigands, but Andri himself had been struck with an arrow in his arm. He prayed the remainder of their journey would be peaceful.

Andri sat back and stretched. “I think I am done my meal here and would withdraw. I thank you for your company, friends,”

“Will you not stay to hear Emrys play his harp, young Ruithin?” asked the older guard.

“We will hear it from the alcove. I always enjoy Emrys’ skilled playing—” Andri bowed his head in acknowledgement to the bard, who smiled graciously, “—but Cadwyr and I have news to catch up on.”

Alone in the alcove, Andri drew the heavy curtain and climbed onto the bed. He stripped himself. Shortly afterwards, Col and Cadwyr entered.

“Now we can catch up on ‘news,’” said Col, grinning, as he brought out an orb from his pack and placed it on the wall shelf. The orb, a unique mineral, gave off a warm golden light.

“There is news to be had, but it can wait,” said Cadwyr. “I think you have something else in mind, Andri and Col.”

Col replied, “I promised Andri some oral delights in exchange for his sucking me this morning. I was almost late for my duties with my Master Gabrien, but he forgave me when I made a horse behave.”

“You make me behave, too,” said Andri, laughing. “And now we have our friend Cadwyr, who, I am sure, doesn’t need training.”

“Oh, I don’t know. A priest is always learning. And if not, at least I can bring blessings upon you both.”

“We would welcome your blessings, Cadwyr,” said Andri, only half-joking, for he greatly respected the priest.

“Then I will give them,” Cadwyr replied simply.

“We have a wall on one side. Who is in the next alcove?” questioned Col.

“Emrys chose it, so we will be undisturbed as long as he plays his harp,” said Andri.

“Good. Now join us on the bed, Cadwyr. May I kiss you?”

Cadwyr stripped off his red robe and came over to the two youths. He took Col’s face in his hands and kissed him slowly and deeply. Col felt himself responding almost immediately as he kissed the priest back. Their tongues intertwined, and Col dared to mouth-fuck Cadwyr with his.

“You are a wicked young man, but I forgive you,” said Cadwyr, drawing back to kiss Andri in turn.

Andri melted into the priest’s embrace. He always felt safe with Cadwyr. The priest was an intelligent, capable but sensual man: a discerning priest and a thoughtful lover. Andri had first had sex with Cadwyr at the Narib conference, then again at his Graduation, but they had been friends since Andri had first known him when he arrived at ArMor-ys, and Cadwyr was visiting from the King’s court.

Outside the alcove, the sweet strains of harp music filled the air.

Meanwhile, Col stripped off his clothes and dug in his pack for that most essential item, the bottle of lubricant. He spent a moment admiring his lover entwined with the priest, then rejoined them on the bed. Andri and Cadwyr opened their arms to embrace Col, and the three shared kisses that rapidly became passionate. Col slipped down to take Andri’s cock in his mouth while his two friends enjoyed each other’s tongues. The cock filled Col’s throat as he sucked it. He paused to lick and suck Andri’s balls, and his lover responded by opening his legs wider and thrusting up his hips. Then Col returned to his sucking. Reaching out, he stroked Cadwyr’s substantial cock, moistening his hand and the shaft with copious precum. The slippery feel of the priest’s cock excited Col even more, and he moaned. He sucked harder but had no intention of letting Andri cum just yet.

And so he broke off at Cadwyr’s command and lay on his back as instructed. The priest climbed on top of him, embracing him so that their two cocks were in contact, rubbing against each other. Col’s own precum added to their endeavours. Cadwyr reared up and sucked Col’s nipples while Andri stroked both their bodies. The priest then continued to rub himself against Col, feeling the slippery wetness and heat from his young partner’s cock. Again, they paused before Col could cum, but the interruptions only had an edging effect, bringing all three to new heights of arousal as each anticipated the orgasm they would experience.

Col rolled out from under Cadwyr. “Lie down on your stomach, Andri and position yourselves, both of you, so you can suck Cadwyr’s cock.”

“Yes, young Horsemaster!” laughed Cadwyr, sitting back against the top of the bed so Andri could suck him. As the young singer started to do just that, Col slipped behind Andri. He bent down and tongued his lover’s sweet, firm ass, holding apart the cheeks so he could reach the anus. He probed with his tongue, which had Andri trying to suppress his groans. Then Col took the lubricant and trickled some on the asshole. He inserted his fingers to play with it, but his sexual excitement prevented him from persisting. He mounted his lover, kneeing apart Andri’s legs to expose his ass even further. He rubbed lubricant on his own thick, dusky cock, milking even more precum from it. Then he pushed the head of it into Andri’s ass. The young singer moaned, his voice muffled as he sucked Cadwyr’s cock.

“Ah yes, Col. Do it to Andri,” said Cadwyr in a low voice. “I love to see you two like that. You are so natural together.”

Col thrust until his cock was all the way in. He was skilled at reading Andri’s responses and knew just when to push and when to pause. He built up into a steady rhythm until he thrust vigorously into his lover’s ass, riding him hard. It wasn’t long before he felt himself approaching orgasm.

“I’m going to cum. Make Cadwyr cum with me, Andri.” Col was sweating and panting now, not with exertion but with lust. “Now . . . I’m fucking your ass. Take my cum.” He strained as the orgasm took him, making his whole body shake. He felt shattered.

He was dimly aware that Andri had succeeded in making Cadwyr cum. He heard the priest exclaim his joy, and then Col collapsed over his lover’s body. Reaching under it to grasp Andri’s cock, Col found it already ejaculating. As cum creamed his hand, he rubbed it in the cock, and pushed Andri to turn him over. He gazed lovingly down at Andri’s body, leaning down to clean the cum off him with his tongue.

“Tut kamav, ves’tacha,” he murmured in the young singer’s ear when he was done.

“And I love you, too,” Andri responded.

“I thank both of you, dear friends,” said Cadwyr. “In my line of work, physical love is not common. But we all need that love, especially when backed by spiritual truth.”

“Yes,” agreed Andri. “You are a true friend to us.”

*    *    *

After a time of rest together, they arose and dressed again. Col went out to check on the horses and speak to their own guards. Andri and Cadwyr remained for a time and talked about the upcoming rituals.

“I’m glad you didn’t mention tonight that I was to choose the Ruler of Summer. How do I go about it, and are there risks?”

“There are celebrations leading up to the day, but on the First Day of Summer Night, or Summer’s Night, in the gathering place will be two large fires kindled from the need fire, made with special woods that call the forest spirits. The young people gather to dance in a long chain holding hands and weaving between the two fires. Those who would vie for the position of Summer Queen lead the dance. You are positioned at the side of the fires, with attendants and a priest—that would be me, and your duty is to stand there and watch. The spirits gather and choose the one they want. They will communicate that choice to you. You don’t have to make a selection based on any characteristic. It’s the Forest God’s choice.”

“I understand,” replied Andri. “It’s a good thing it’s not Col doing the choosing. He would want to see their teeth and judge their conformation as he does with the horses.”

Cadwyr laughed. “He probably would. But I know he greatly respects the Devleski, his people’s Earth Mother. We had a discussion about it while we travelled.”

“So I wait for the inspiration of the spirits, who will indicate to me the Chosen One.”

“Yes. Do not act straight away; let the candidates pass the fires again and call her out on the third pass. Command the dance to halt, take the maiden and lead her to the priest and the waiting Mothers who will prepare and instruct her. Not too difficult, is it?”

“Is a young man ever chosen?”

Cadwyr looked surprised. “I can’t recall it happening, but it is not outside of possibility.”

 What about risks?”

“There are human ones—someone may approach you in the days leading up to the event and try to bribe you or even threaten you. If they do, tell me. But sometimes, a rogue spirit may try to influence you or even attack the girl after she is chosen. It is very rare, but I can recall one instance.”

“But, Cadwyr. I am just not a magical or sensitive person like Brynnan or Col, who can communicate mind to mind with certain people and who can discern spirits. I am just a plain singer who works really hard to understand the deeper mysteries being taught to me.”

“Don’t underestimate yourself. You have your own power—you are able to learn the Shadow-singing, don’t forget. It will come when it is needed.”

“But what happens if a wayward spirit tries to possess the girl? How would I tell, and would she be a danger?”

“You are getting ahead of yourself, Andri. There are endless hypotheticals. Anyway, there is almost no chance that could happen. Just relax, enjoy the journey; enjoy the adventure and your young friend’s company.”

“I am sure you are correct, Cadwyr. I am worrying over nothing.”

But deep inside himself, Andri was not so sure. Experience, sometimes bitter, had taught him that the unexpected happens. He resolved to talk to Col about it.

“Anyway, Emrys’ harp playing has stopped. Let us go out and have a last drink with our company. Put your cares away.”

Andri agreed, ignoring his lingering doubts.

*     *     *

To be continued . . .