Col and Andri: The Vanna Stallions

Harp Song

Andri felt anxious as he watched their friend Brynnan carry his harp to the circle of musicians and listeners, for Brynnan was the Lord of Death’s son. Would the people detect it? Brynnan, clad in a black cloak covering his body from neck to ankle, settled on a bench and placed Mavrenn beside him, hand caressing the instrument’s pillar. The harp was a thing of great power and beauty. It was said that she possessed a soul. She was made of purpleheart wood, with a figurehead of carved bone in the likeness of a woman’s head, shoulders, and breast adorning the pillar. The eyes, inset with rubies, flared redly in the firelight.

Andri and Col sat up front in a place of honour for the second day of their handfasting celebration. The dancing was over, and Col’s breathing wasn’t quite back to normal as he had participated in each one. He was flushed and happy and eagerly awaited Brynnan’s music. Andri was less relaxed; he worried that, somehow, people would be able to tell that their harpist friend and lover wasn’t quite human anymore.

But that supernatural quality that sometimes expressed itself seemed well under control. Before his transformation, Brynnan was a Ruithin priest and Master Bard, subject to the laws of nature, and practiced in both music and diplomacy. He expressed that now as he smiled easily at the people.

“Bună seara. Romale tai shavale akarel tume o Brynnan. Pachiv tumenge Wanderers. This song was offered to the worthy men of your people. Phuri dai Eleni asks that I offer it to you now.”

Brynnan’s fingers moved over the harp strings as he spoke, evoking a lyrical melody. He finished his introduction, and the tune became more complex, bringing to mind flowing rivers and the drumming of horses' hooves. His listeners fell silent, already engaged before he gave his rich and nuanced voice to the song.

“Me sim shavo, terno shavo, Me sim, Dévla, kolkorro—"

Col translated the words to Andri. “I am a youth, a young fellow; I am, God, alone . . .”

Andri listened intently to Brynnan’s captivating voice and playing and to Col’s words. His gift of memory allowed him to retain what he heard, an essential skill for a young Ruithin bard.

The crowd settled into a receptive frame of mind, occasionally calling out encouragement or affirmation to the music’s sentiments. Brynnan paused after several songs and addressed Andri directly. “Come up here, Andri. Join your voice to mine. We shall give them a travelling song in our own tongue.”

Andri hesitated only a moment and arose, assisted by an encouraging push from Col. He was trained to comply when anyone asked for a song. Luckily, Brynnan offered him one that he knew. As the harp strings flashed and sounded, Andri lifted up his deep, mature-sounding voice with Brynnan’s . . .

At the end of it, there were tears in many people’s eyes.

Time passed, and other musicians joined in. One man offered Brynnan his lute, and the Bard took it, playing it with fluent ease. Another lute player joined in, creating an intricate duet. But at last, the evening drew to a close.

*    *    *

“One more day of celebrating before we must settle down to business and Brynnan leaves,” sighed Col as he and Andri undressed in the tent. “I will judge the horses my dad, Rafe and Kashi have selected for me, and you have lessons with Eleni and the other elders on how to be a proper Wanderer.

“I must admit our handfasting has opened up doors for me to learn your culture and music. I’m still in a dream,” remarked Andri, reaching over to kiss his lover.

A thought from outside entered Col’s mind, ‘Would you two like some company?”

“It’s Brynnan, and Geraint is with him!” Col exclaimed.

“What are you waiting for?” called Andri. “Come on in!”

The tent flap opened, and the two visitors slipped inside.

“Got room for an old bear and his friend?” Geraint asked.

“We have missed you at night, Geraint,” said Andri. “You and Brynnan are most welcome! Will you sleep with us?”

“It’s a bit crowded, but that’s what we had in mind. We’ll just have to lie close to each other. I promise I won’t molest you, lads.”

“That won’t work because we are inviting you to make love with us,” grinned Col. He turned to Brynnan. “I forgot how beautiful your playing was. And your and Andri’s voices weave a powerful spell. Were you shadow-singing?”

“Just a little. You couldn’t tell? Good, because you’re not supposed to,” replied Brynnan. “I just invoked peace and a feeling of togetherness.”

“It was wonderful. And hearing Andri sing with you made me realize how special his voice really is,” said Col.

Andri grinned. “So you’ve been taking me for granted?”

“Never, ves’tacha!” Col took Andri’s hand and placed it on his bare breast, holding it there.

Brynnan, now naked, slipped down beside Col. Col turned to kiss his mouth while still gripping Andri’s hand.

“Move over between us, so I can get at you, too,” Andri requested.

Brynnan complied, and both young men wrapped their arms around him. Andri put his hand on Brynnan’s back and immediately felt the old keloid marks of the bullwhip. It distressed him enough to ask, “Brynnan, surely, with your new powers, you could banish the scars from your back, wrists and throat? And as for the three brands on your chest—“

“I have no wish to look perfect. These scars are part of my journey, and they remind me that I am still subject to human consequences, and the brands are a gift from my Father and part of my power. Now, hush. Don’t speak of it.”

Brynnan touched their bodies, running a hand down one lover, then the other, until it reached Col’s stiffening penis. Brynnan began to stroke it.

Geraint finished undressing. He had remained silent when Andri had questioned Brynnan about his scars, but he had cared for Brynnan after that terrible whipping and understood the Bard’s reluctance.

Geraint lay lower down on the bedding until he could reach Andri’s cock with his mouth and proceeded to suck it before moving to Col’s. Geraint suggested they lay side by side when both young men were rock hard. He squeezed between them, causing a shuffling of bodies to make room.

“Brynnan and I want to fuck you two. I will take you, Andri, and Brynnan will fuck Col,” said Geraint as he passed the bottle of lubricant to the Bard after slicking some on his thick, heavy phallus.

When Brynnan knelt between Col’s legs, the young Horsemaster reached to grasp the Bard’s cock. “I want to feel it before you put it in me,” he said.

Col pulled the foreskin back from the shapely head, exposing the glans, already oozing pre-cum. Then he slid the skin shallowly back and forth, rubbing it over the rim of the head. Brynnan strained forward to make it easier for Col to jerk him off. He closed his eyes and sighed.

Geraint lay over Andri’s body, pressing his cock against the young man’s penis, and moved back and forth, so the friction rubbed their cocks together. He plunged his tongue into Andri’s mouth, forcing his compliance and making him moan.

Brynnan pushed his stiff shaft into Col’s ass and rested, letting him adjust. He felt the rectal passage spasm, but when it relaxed, he thrust his cock deeper. Soon he was driving it in long, sensual strokes. As he fucked the young Wanderer, he admired Col’s chiselled muscles, now glistening with pungent sweat. The scent excited him, and he bent to lick Col’s body.

“Fuck me harder,” Col groaned.”You’re driving me wild!”

Meanwhile, Geraint had positioned Andri so that his legs were around the old Warrior’s waist. Then, scooping his arms around his partner’s back, Geraint hauled him upright until Andri faced him directly. When he sunk his hefty cock into Andri’s ass, Andri embraced Geraint’s furry torso tightly, feeling the strength of his muscled arms gripping him. The old Warrior kissed Andri again as he rocked him back and forth, the young man pinned on his thick member.

Then there was silence, except for heavy breathing and gasps of lust. Col slid his hand rapidly back and forth over his cock, masturbating as Brynnan thoroughly fucked him until he could feel himself about to come.

“I can’t wait any longer,” Col moaned. “Cum with me, Brynnan! I’m cumming now—aah!”

Brynnan, seeking to give the young Wanderer maximum pleasure, allowed himself to ejaculate. His scrotum tightened, and his cock leapt inside Col, shooting hot cum. He took Col’s mouth in a deep kiss. When the orgasmic aftershocks had died down, Brynnan lay beside Col, who threw an arm around the Bard’s shoulders, holding him close and together, they watched Geraint and Andri fucking.

Neither of them looked like finishing soon, involved as they were in each other. Geraint edged Andri and had previously trained him how to make it last. Eventually, Geraint tipped Andri onto his back and crouched over him to fuck him hard and fast. The impact of the old Warrior’s thrusts shook Andri’s body, and Geraint’s balls slapped against him. Andri surrendered the fight, shooting a spray of semen on both their chests and stomachs. Geraint persisted a little longer, wringing every drop of pleasure he could out of the act. Finally, the four of them rested in a tangle of limbs.

After a while, Brynnan asked, “Anyone for a moonlight swim?”

*    *    *

Andri sat on the grass with a cheerful group of onlookers and watched the wrestlers. Barefoot, stripped to the waist, three sets of opponents engaged each other. It was less formal than the wrestling bouts at the College; more freestyle, but some of the moves were very clever, and Andri understood where Col got his fearsome reputation from.

Col grappled with a partner even now. The two young men would approach each other and make feints before closing. Col ducked low, seizing his opponent’s thighs and using his momentum to bring him down. The other tried to roll on top, but Col gripped the man’s waist with his thighs, then extended his legs using a scissor move to roll his victim onto his stomach. When he held the man’s shoulders down, his opponent could not rise, and Col won the bout.

He was about to take a break when another came forward and shouted a challenge.

“Are you man enough to take me on, or has your gadžo “wife” already crushed your balls?”

It was Soli. Several of his friends clustered behind him, posing aggressively, but Col wasn’t the least intimidated. But others objected to the words spoken: it was not an honourable way to challenge someone to a bout.

Andri was angered on Col’s behalf and sought to rise, intending to challenge Soli himself, but Kashi pulled him back down.

“Let Col handle it. Soli tends to let his horse run away with his wagon.”

Meaning, Col supposed, that Soli was indiscreet. He sat back reluctantly on the grass and glanced at Brynnan. The Bard, covered by his black cloak, looked on with interest but said nothing. However, he did place a reassuring hand on Andri’s shoulder.

Col turned slowly and faced Soli and his friends. His muscles gleamed in the sunlight, and he looked more than capable of taking the man out.

“That is how a dog makes a challenge, not a man,” Col told him. “If you want a bout with me, ask politely or go away.”

Soli glowered, and his face flushed when onlookers laughed. Col had put him on the spot. Privately, Andri thought that Col had just made the first move in the match, a move that Soli would find difficult to counter without losing face.

“Then I simply propose a bout with you if you think you can take me on,” was the best Soli could manage.

“Why, certainly.” Col stood ready for him.

Soli stripped off his vest, shirt and boots, handing them to one of his companions. He stretched, moving his limbs and loosening up. Col did not rush him to finish. Two other wrestlers stopped to watch what would happen, for Soli had a reputation as a competent and aggressive fighter. The formalities were dispensed with, and Soli closed with Col, surging into him.

Andri watched with bated breath as the two opponents fought for dominance. Soli managed to take Col down at one point, and Andri reached for Brynnan’s hand.

Gripping it, Brynnan said, “I sense a deep enmity from Soli. For him, your and Col’s union is a personal affront. I feel he has a deeper motivation yet to express, so I don’t think he will break the rules just for a wrestling match.”

Meanwhile, Soli’s planned move had failed. Instead of bearing Col fully to the ground, the young Horsemaster wrapped his arms around the aggressor’s hips and rolled him head over heels. Col continued the move in a follow-through that repeated the roll twice before pinning the disoriented man. The bout was over that fast. Sol’s friends called out in protest but were quickly overruled.

When Col finally walked over to Andri for a break, rubbing his arms with a towel, Andri said, “That last move was brilliant, but I don’t think it has defused the situation.”

“Unfortunately, you speak the truth,” Col replied with a sigh. Then he winked at Andri. “But I had to defend your honour, my gadžo wife.”

“Hey! I’m your husband!”

“Peace, children!” Brynnan said and laughed.

*    *    *

Rafe, carrying Miryam, his little daughter, upon his shoulders, joined Col, Andri and Brynnan in the afternoon. They visited their horses and found Geraint with Keven and Gethen, watching his mare’s foal, Brishind. The beautiful blue-roan half-Vanna colt pranced around, drawing admiring glances from various onlookers. His silver-black mane and tail were already exceptionally long, and his lower legs were heavily feathered. Geraint showed him off like a proud parent.

Keven looked in his element. “Col, your Vanna horses are unique. I have never seen anything quite like them. Your father says they are bred for strength and endurance and are intelligent, brave, steady and extremely sociable. I can’t wait to see what we produce from the stallions you choose tomorrow.”

“We breed them to be part of our families. Did you not see Miryam sitting up on Buino’s back this morning as he was grazing?” replied Col.

“Yes. I had no fear that she’d fall off. She’s a very confident child.”

Brishind trotted up to Brynnan and seemed quite curious, breathing heavily over the Bard and nibbling his cloak. Brynnan reached up and scratched between the colt’s ears.

“He’s certainly not afraid of you,” remarked Andri.

“No reason why he should be,” Brynnan replied.

Something within the Bard seemed to relax, and he looked happy at the young horse’s attention. Geraint and Andri shared a knowing look.

Col asked, “Must you return tonight, Brynnan? These three days with you have been so short. I would have liked you to see the stallions with me tomorrow.”

“Yes, Col: I must leave. My heart’s love and master, Samir, has given me this gift of being with you, just as I offer him my obedience. He has kept me close since Nijal and I returned from Siginak, and it has given me time to adjust to my transformation.”

“But don’t leave before we have a chance to share our bodies one more time.”

“Of course not. I will miss you and Andri as it is, and I intend to return to you again.”

*    *    *

In the evening, Col’s family gathered for the last meal of the celebration with their friends and extended family. Keven was there with Gethen, and Aled sat beside Geraint. A circle of young women danced a traditional wedding dance for them that invoked luck for the couple, and acclaimed musicians played. There was a stir when Silvanus, the headman of the Kumpania, arrived with some other elders of the Wanderer council. They greeted Eleni first, then personally congratulated Col and Andri.

“When you return next spring, we will have a gift for you. Our master carpenters and carvers have agreed to build your own vardo, a wagon to be your home when you are with us. Your father, Kyan, will gift you a Vanna horse, and Kashi will drive it in your absence. It is not good that you should only have a tent.”

Col was speechless for once. He turned pale, then flushed before finally finding his voice.

“We are indeed honoured, Headman Silvanus. But surely a young couple build their first wagon only when they have a family to raise?”

“You will help raise your brother’s family; besides, who knows what lies ahead in your future?” Silvanus then looked at Eleni.

“You are too kind to my grandson,” she said. “But you give him a further responsibility. That is good: Andri needs to know he is fully welcome, and I shall continue to instruct him in the lore while he is with us.” Then she turned to Col. “As to your future, I wish to let it unfold as it will, without my interference. I shall invoke my Seeing only if danger threatens you and your spouse.”

After that, Andri hardly heard the music: his mind was a whirlwind of possibilities. He imagined what Master Daraou would say if he and Col brought a wagon to the College. But if they travelled, they would no longer have to suffer inclement weather or pitch a tent in rainstorms. He shared his thoughts with Col.

‘When I do my apprenticeship tour in two years, I hope you can accompany me in our vardo. And I will have room for my instruments and gear.’

‘Slow down, ves’tacha. We have this time now to deal with. I thought you bards immersed themselves in the present!’

‘Bards might, but a boy like me can dream . . .’

Their musings were interrupted by Brynnan speaking aloud to them. “Andri, before we end this evening, it is time for you to perform for your guests. I wish you to play the harp.”

“Very well. I’ll go fetch it,” Andri responded.

“There is no need. I have Mavrenn with me. You may play her.”

Andri reacted in shock. “No one but you can play her! I have heard that she will not even sound for others and to attempt to play her brings dire consequences.”

“Nevertheless, I wish you to try. Mavrenn will not harm you—you have carried her before.”

“Carried, not played! If you insist, though, I will try. But must you have me attempt it in front of all these people?”

“I do insist. And I have faith in you.”

Andri took the harp from Brynnan and walked forward to the centre space. He recalled the Bard’s past advice to accept what was in front of him and just do it, so he did. Andri laid his hand on the strings, feeling a pulsating vibration that buzzed through him, flowing with energy. He felt as if the harp spoke to him, so he summoned all his courage and plucked the strings.

He was rewarded by the sweetest tones and became immediately engulfed in the harp’s spell. Mavrenn sounded for him! Then he put the awe from his mind and concentrated on a song that had an uncomplicated but captivating melody. He began to sing and could swear that the harp was striving to fit his voice into its harmonics. Their sound blended into a whole entity of its own.

Andri, feeling as if he was dreaming, was only dimly aware of the shouts of approval when the song ended. He was grateful when Brynnan approached him and reclaimed his harp, but the Bard courteously declined when others requested that he play.

As Andri seated himself beside Col again, he asked, “What did I just do?”

Col replied pensively, “Something momentous, I am sure: Brynnan does nothing without purpose, and he must have some ideas we will learn of in the fullness of time. Don’t push him for an explanation: let it be for now.”

*    *    *

Later that night, Geraint and Brynnan engaged in a huddled conversation at the family’s camp. Then Aled joined them.

“Something’s up with those three,” remarked Col to Andri. “Uh-oh, here comes Geraint.”

The old Warrior crouched down in front of the two lovers. “What would you say to a walk in the woods after everyone else has gone to bed? The moon is full, and there’s lots of light.”

“Who else is going?” asked Andri.

Me, Brynnan, Aled, Gethen and your friend Keven. I want us to make love together. Brynnan needs lots of fucking to send him on his way.”

“I am going to miss him, Geraint. We will certainly come with you.”

Then prepare yourselves. We will meet shortly after. I have a grove in mind that Aled and I discovered. Bring your cloaks.”

Andri felt his desire building at the thought of the six of them gathering together to make love to Brynnan. He looked into Col’s eyes and smiled.

*    *    *

To be continued . . .