Col and Andri: The Vanna Stallions

Rest and Reflection

“Do you understand what we have done? We travelled the Shadow-ways, the  tracks between worlds.” Geraint looked at each of his friends.

Aled said, “I have never experienced the otherworld before, but surely, we are still in our world. If we follow the river to the east, we should shortly come to the Wanderer’s encampment. We just seem to have skipped all the distance between them and the Hold near Hesperon, leaving the pursuit behind. I, for one, am not questioning this gift.”

They were resting beside the river below the hill they had descended. The four men were all battered, bruised and exhausted after their ordeal at the hands of Lord Garth Mellea. Aled and Col had been physically beaten; Jorge had fought and slain many men and sustained a sword cut on his arm, and Geraint still had a sore head from being knocked unconscious, not to mention the slash on his cheek.

Col stripped down and immersed his aching body in the river’s cool waters, with the others following his example. After swimming, he waded thigh-deep in the slowly swirling current and listened to the conversation of Geraint and Jorge, the assassin-turned-hunter. Col wanted to join in, but he hesitated, feeling responsible for having his lover call on the Lord of Death.

Finally, Col spoke. “Geraint, you know there will be a price to pay.”

“What was that roaring sound we heard at the last?” Said Jorge, frowning.

“I believe it was a realm we nearly fell into,” said Geraint. “I don’t think we would have liked it. And to Col’s point about a price: the Grey King, Arawn, has strong values and a sense of justice. I know him: he is implacable but fair. He helped us, and I suspect I know his price because it already happened to me when I travelled the Shadow-ways once before. But I will not say it. I’ll leave it up to Brynnan’s father to enlighten us. He’ll visit us when we least expect it.”

“I am just grateful,” said Aled, rubbing his undershirt over his wet body. “Col’s quick thinking saved us, as did Jorge’s.”

“Do you still feel Andri’s presence in your mind?” Geraint said. “You might want to tell him where we are and that we survived.”

Coll nodded his assent.

Geraint continued, “Let’s set our troubles aside for a time while we rest. You, Col and Aled, have been hurt, and my young Wanderer friend—excellent fighter that he has proved to be—has also killed for the first time. That’s burden enough for a new warrior.”

Coll mumbled something, and Geraint said, “I didn’t hear you, Col.”

“I said I was hoping to put off thinking about that just now. It’s overwhelming.”

“Now is the best time to address it, or it will eat at you,” said the old Warrior. “As I say on these occasions, “Face it and embrace it.” ”

Col sighed and dropped his naked body onto the grass, resting his head in his arms, grateful for the sun’s warmth. “You have a saying for everything, old Warrior. Andri told me how he and Brynnan were haunted by events in their captivity at Redstone. Then Brynnan decided to face his monsters and taught my lover how to do the same. I guess it’s my turn now. Mostly, I followed my training, telling myself to breathe. Then I was too busy surviving. But I keep seeing the look in one man’s eyes when I drove my sword into his chest. They were servants of an evil Lord but did not necessarily deserve their fate.”

“Maybe not, but when someone tries to kill me, my main thought is stopping them. Now, I think it’s time for some Battlefield Medicine,” said Geraint.

Jorge smiled grimly. “I’d forgotten about that. Comes of going without a lover for a long time.” He approached Aled and took his hand. “I think we should fuck; here and now.”

Aled’s cock leapt at Jorge’s suggestion. “Battlefield Medicine. Yes, I’ll go with that. Jorge, I have missed you. I’m—“

But he did not get the chance to finish, for Jorge kissed him, occupying Aled’s mouth with his tongue. Aled’s cock leapt again and rapidly stiffened. Jorge reached down and grasped it.

Geraint raised an eyebrow and gave the young Wanderer a suggestive look as Jorge and Aled fondled each other. “You and me, Col. How about it?”

“You think I’ll fall for that old line?” Col said, then gave in when Geraint lay beside him, stroking his hand down the curve of Col’s muscular back and squeezing the firm, rounded buttocks.

“I’ll be extra careful of your bruises, my lad,” said Geraint. He kissed Col’s body between his shoulder blades, lingering with a feather-light touch over the blackening bruises on the kidney area before working his way down to his friend’s tight ass.

“Spread your legs and relax. I’ll take care of you.” Geraint took hold of Col’s ass cheeks, parting them. Then he bent his head and inserted his tongue into the fresh anus. He probed and licked, making the young man moan and raise his hips.

Jorge and Aled were similarly engaged; only the hunter turned Aled over and took his cock in his mouth, and the guardsman gasped when Jorge started sucking intently. Presently, Jorge knelt upright, and Aled shifted his ass over the hunter’s knees.

Jorge stroked himself briskly until pre-cum leaked from the head of his cock. He used it as a lubricant as, gripping Aled’s hip, he very gently introduced his cock into his lover’s rectal opening with his other hand. “I want to pound my cock into you after all this time, but I know how sore you are after those dogs beat you.”

“Don’t worry: they didn’t get around to raping me. A certain assassin interrupted things.” Then Aled noticed Jorge’s shoulder. “Arrow wound? That’s new!”

“It’s just about all healed now. Two of our visitors at the steading returned to finish me off. I shot one of them, but my attention lapsed, and the other got me. My nephew helped remove the arrow. Now, stop talking while I fuck you.”

Aled surrendered, and soon Jorge was fucking him with a smooth and steady pace, avoiding rough actions. They maintained constant eye contact, their gazes saying more than words could express.

*     *     *

Col lay on the side that was least sore, with Geraint gingerly embracing him from behind as he worked his thick cock into the young Wanderer’s anal ring. He did not need to rely on pre-cum or spit; he had found lubricant in one of his saddle bags and applied plenty of it to slick on his cock and Col’s ass.

Col was grateful for it when Geraint’s thick and hefty cock plunged past the restriction. He felt a deep ache at first, then a strange yet pleasant lethargy, his profound exhaustion making his body relaxed and accommodating. His position, with his ass spooned against the old Warrior’s hairy loins, was one of least stress and meant that no weight crushed his body. He revelled in the feel of Geraint’s cock filling him, rubbing against his prostate, while the old Warrior’s hand stroked his side and squeezed his buttocks. He felt the furry stomach and thighs pressed tightly against him, then an arm snaked around his loins, and Geraint gripped Col’s cock, jerking him off as he thrust rapidly.

Col felt his excitement climbing. “Geraint . . . I’m cumming, and I don’t have the energy to hold off . . .”

“Then cum, dear lad. I am with you, now . . .”  The old Warrior pushed hard against Col’s ass while his cum pumped out and filled his young lover.

Col’s orgasm swept over him simultaneously with Geraint’s, but to his shock, he wept silently as his pent-up emotions were set free.

“It’s all right, lad,” said Geraint softly. “Let it out: you’ll feel better for it.”

“I want to be strong, Geraint. Andri needs me, and I want to protect him, but some men are no longer alive today because of me.”

“You are strong, Col. The ability to weep is not weakness; it’s acceptance. I’ve shed plenty of tears in my time—any soldier who hasn’t probably had a frozen heart, which is no way to live. Embrace the fact that you’re human and do your job as best you can.”

“But in the heat of battle—”

“In the heat of battle, you focus. That’s what you’re supposed to do. Now rest for a while before we continue on. We didn’t sleep last night. Maybe you’ll see Andri before the day’s end.”

Col settled against Geraint and closed his eyes.

*     *     *

Col dimly became aware of thick, wet, hairy lips nibbling his face. There was a wave of horsey breath; he recoiled, then opened his eyes.

Geraint’s young horse, Brishind, stood directly above him, exploring his face and neck.

A voice behind him growled, “Off with you, you rascal; there are no treats here!”

The colt tossed his head and backed up.

“Are you awake now, dear lad?” said Geraint. He climbed to his feet and helped Col stand.

The young Wanderer stretched carefully. “I feel better for having slept. What’s that I smell cooking? Fish? I must be dreaming!”

He looked and saw a fire. Jorge knelt beside it, tending to two large fish spread open with skewers and placed near the flames. Col realized that he was ravenous. “Did you catch them with your hands?” he asked Jorge.

“Yes. There’s a big submerged rock upstream, and I caught them in the eddies behind it. They’re about done.”

Col dressed, catching his breath with pain when he bent over. Geraint placed a hand on his arm and led him to the fire. Jorge broke the fish into pieces and served the chunks on broad green leaves for plates. Conversation ceased while the four men devoured their simple meal.

When every bit had been consumed, Geraint said, “We’ll go now, I think. But I sense people coming. Col, do you feel it?”

“Yes. Before we slept, I sent Andri and my Grandmother a message. I hope it’s them who are coming, and I hope they bring food. I’m still starving!”

Geraint laughed. “That’s a healthy sign—it means you are dealing with things.”

The party set out, following the river. The day was fading into the evening, and they rode with the late golden light at their backs.

 “Those approaching us are close,” Col announced. “Let’s wait for them.”

The stallion Col was leading stared downriver and neighed loudly.

“Silence, you dinlo grast. You’ll give us away. Fine battle charger you are.” But Col was smiling.

“Who is it?” said Aled.

“Friends, I believe,” replied Geraint. “You’ll see.”

Presently, riders became visible. There were four that Col could make out, and Andri’s presence was strong amongst them. “I see my brother Rafe, dad, Kashi and Andri, my own ves’tacha.”

Jorge spoke at Col’s shoulder. “Your people probably won’t accept assassins. I doubt they’ll welcome me. Perhaps I should leave.”

“Jorge, you saved our lives. Stay,” said Col firmly.

As the visitors came close, Andri urged his horse ahead. Seeing him, Col’s heart was close to bursting with joy. Then Geraint rode beside Col and wordlessly took the other Vanna stallion’s lead rope from the young Wanderer’s hand.

Col dismounted stiffly, even as Andri leaped lightly from his horse. “Careful!” Col said and laughed as Andri enclosed his body in an embrace. “I’m pretty sore.”

“How I have missed you and feared for you. I want to hug you tightly, but I’ll be gentle.”

“Just be careful of the kidney area. Did you bring any food?”

Andri grinned. “I know you, remember? We brought pan bread and cheese—enough for all of you.”

Col clumsily kissed Andri’s cheek. “You’re wonderful!”

“I know.”

They walked together back towards the others. Andri approached Jorge and laid his hand on the hunter’s thigh. “I owe you thanks. I don’t fully know what happened. Just snatches of thought, but I know you fought to save my friend’s lives, and especially my husband’s,”

Jorge raised an eyebrow. “So. You two are now handfasted.”

“We are.”

“Then I’m doubly glad we came through in one piece. There’s no place for loss in a young couple’s relationship,” the hunter replied.

Andri squeezed Jorge’s hand and then turned to Aled. “I was afraid you had been killed, Aled. Col cried out into my mind.”

“I was in Jorge’s hands. And we all were in the hands of the Mother.”

“Don’t forget the Shadow King. Arawn will want his due . . .” put in Geraint.

“His hands, too, then,” said Aled. “Other Gods forbid. I never thought I’d rely on that Lord to save me.”

By this time, the other riders had arrived. Col’s older brother, Rafe, had to be warned about Col’s tender ribs and back. “Don’t worry, little phral. Someone’s tried to make you beautiful: a shiny, purple eye and your mouth all cut and swollen on one side. I can’t say it’s an improvement, though. Wait until Puridaia Eleni gets her hands on you: you will have poultices all over your body and be drinking nasty potions.”

Col sighed. “What I really need is love. It cures everything . . .”

“There speaks a hopeless romantic,” Rafe said and ruffled Col’s hair.

Another voice interrupted the reunion. “Col, my son.”

Kyan did not need to elaborate. Love and affirmation were demonstrated by the tenderest of embraces, and Kyan kissed Col on either cheek, being gentle near his swollen mouth.

“Dad! You came to meet us!” Col’s eyes unexpectedly teared up.

“You doubted I would? I heard from Andri that you had a very close call.”

“I brought the stallion back, and Geraint found Brishind.”

“Your mother always said you were horse-mad. If I had known the danger your quest would bring you . . .” said Kyan

“You still would not have tried to stop me,” said Col. Then, because it had to be said, Col declared, “Dad, I have become mahrime. I fought against enemies, and I killed them. We should not even have embraced.”

Kyan replied, “My son, you know we have not practiced the old taboos for ages. You have become a warrior, and warriors fight, and they kill. I am sure Geraint and your friends have also fought. This mahrime, this uncleanness, is not serious if the fighting was in defence of your lives, which I suspect it was, and we’ll take care of it.”

“With a ritual bath and a blessing? I do not have to stay outside the camp for days?”

Kyan laughed. “No, my son. I know you are anxious to be with Andri. A ritual bath will also help with your bruises. Eleni has some good herbs for just that event. Now come, Kashi is patiently waiting to get a word in.”

Col flushed, “I’m so sorry, Kashi. I’m a little overwhelmed.”

Kashi smiled and put his arm gently around Col’s shoulders. “You have fought, and it looks like you lost at least one fight. Got beat up, did you? Well, for starters, I will take over leading that stallion.”

Gereint was glad to surrender the black and white painted beast as it restlessly pawed the ground. The old Warrior addressed Col’s father. “Kyan, no shame is attached to your son’s conduct. We surrendered to our enemies to save Aled’s life—and Aled, not to mention myself, could do with a healing bath, too. But Col fought his way to freedom with us bravely. Now, allow me to introduce our main saviour to you. Jorge is a hunter and a retired, aah, warrior of a special kind. I think you say, “Beshel lesko kam,” his sun is setting, but Jorge used his stealth and fighting skills to free us.”

Jorge nodded his head. “Kyan,” he acknowledged, “You have a brave son. As for myself, I think you guess what “special kind” of warrior I was. I will stay outside your camp if it makes you more comfortable.”

“I believe I know. You are no longer practicing your work to gain wealth?” asked Kyan, a shrewd expression on his face.

“For many years now. I’ve changed my outlook on life.”

“I would ask that you talk to my mother, Eleni the Seer. She is the Phuri Dai, Elder Mother in our kumpania and speaks with authority. But I am sure she will welcome you. She can discern hearts.”

“Then I’ll put myself in her hands.”

*     *     *

There was a joyful homecoming when the company arrived at Kyan’s family campsite. After more greetings and introductions, Sara, helped by Rafe and Kashi, put on a cauldron of water to boil. Rafe untied the tin bathtub from the roof of his vardo and set it up near the fire.

“It’s not very private, but it will be warm,” Rafe commented.

“Warmth is what I mostly care about,” Col replied.

Sara retreated to her wagon to give the men their space, but Eleni declared she had bathed enough boys and cared for both Rafe and Col, and Kyan, too, when he was a child. She tossed cedar foliage into the bubbling water, releasing fragrant steam. Rafe and Kashi poured this into the tub and mixed it with buckets of cold water.

Col was the first in, and he relaxed into the soothing heat. Eleni murmured the ritual blessing that would banish any impurity, then anointed Col’s wet hair with a scented oil of wild bergamot. After the ritual cleansing, he sat on a blanket, his hips wrapped in a shawl, while Kyan applied Eleni’s salve to his various bruises.

More water was boiled, and Geraint, Aled and Jorge took turns bathing.

“Eleni, you are not only a Seer but a Healer,” Geraint complimented her as she worked with a fine needle and a boiled strand of horse hair from Buino’s tail to stitch the cut on his cheek.

Eleni smiled. “It will scar, but it will balance the one above your eye and make you more irresistible,” she teased.

Geraint found himself actually blushing. “You are flirting with me again, Rani Eleni. But please see to Jorge’s arm next, and don’t make me jealous!”

Afterwards, the men ranged around the campfire. Keven and Gethen sat close beside Aled, lending him their silent support after his ordeal. Rafe brewed Chao and added apple spirits to the cups he passed around. Speaking in his authority as head of the family, Kyan announced that he would not hear of Col and Andri returning to ArMor-ys until Col and Aled were fully healed.

Eleni announced she would retire for the night but requested that Jorge see her in the wagon. As the hunter stood to follow her, Col murmured, “Te oves baxtalo, be lucky!”

*    *    *

“Be seated, hunter of men,” Eleni invited him.

Jorge sat. “I have heard you are a powerful Seer, Phuri dai Eleni. Would you look into my mind? Somehow you don’t strike me as faint of heart, but I warn you, my past is not pleasant.”

“I have lived a long time with the burden and blessing of my Gift. When we speak to one another, we only know the thinnest surface on which to base our understanding. People only present what they want others to see. I am fated to delve below the surface in all its ugliness and beauty. There are very few events of our human condition I have not viewed. Please allow me to take your hand. I am not here to condemn but to listen.”

“It could take longer than this night to relate all I have done,” replied Jorge.

Eleni smiled faintly. “When I touch your mind, it’s as if we stand before a high waterfall. Your memories of experiences will pour into me with great speed. You will feel my touch in your mind, and if you have barred any doors, I will not open them, but I advise you that it is best to open yourself completely.”

“I have never trusted anyone enough to fully reveal my soul to them," Jorge said.

“You took the ritual bath to purify your body. If you choose to trust me, this is a chance to cleanse your mind of confusion and ill memories.”

“Will you erase them?”

“That is not my intent. I will be only a mirror that reflects your true self to you. You do not undergo my test; you undergo yours. You are a man of great courage—this I can already see. The choice is yours.”

Jorge bent his head in contemplation. The slaughter that he had committed in the attempt to save Geraint, Aled and Col weighed on his mind, though he had tried to shut it away. The hunter had found himself revelling in parts of the fighting, gaining a deep satisfaction from stopping the threat the guards posed. He thought he was beyond that. He sighed.

“Very well, Phuri Dai. You shall be my mirror. I hope you are strong.”

“We shall see. Place your hands in mine. Relax your muscles; lose the tension in your body. Think of something repetitive that has no consequence attached.”

Jorge did as he was told. He breathed deeply, as he would before loosing an arrow, and thought simply of picking berries in the forest. He imagined the bushes laden with the sweet but tart fruit filling his basket. Afterwards, his nephew Eirik would make preserves . . .

A soft warmth filled him as if he was immersed once more in the bath, then suddenly, it was as Eleni had said: a torrent of memories washed over him. He saw key scenes and images from his past, critical points of decision when he had chosen for good or evil. Targets were stalked and slain, wealth put into his hands even as his heart hardened. Then came memories of his longtime lover, Garron Trey. They rolled together on a bed, and Jorge fucked Garron, who lay on his back, facing him. “I’ll always care for you,” he heard himself say. Then the memory abruptly switched, and Jorge was embracing Garron after loving him, a small sharp blade concealed in his hand. He plunged it into Garron’s chest, over his heart. It barely left a mark.

“No, no, not you, my lover. How could I have done this?”

But he persevered and received payment at Pentayn Tyreth’s hands, opening the way for Tyreth’s ascent to power. But remorse had taken hold of him in the following days, strangling him. He vowed never to kill for payment again. He foreswore the Swigen Thonar, that tight group of assassins he belonged to. He was hunted. Then, he rejected human company and retreated to the mountains. But somehow, people came and began to ask him for help . . .

Filled with determination, Jorge pushed past that terrible time. The memories continued on. His nephew arrived at the steading and ended up staying with him, taking over the farm duties while Jorge hunted. Then came the arrival of Col and his friends and the events that transpired at the steading. At last, he faced Lord Mellea’s fortress again, and in stalking him and the assassins that had tried to kill him, he found out that Col and his companions were imprisoned. He had acted.

And now, a warm haze surrounded his mind again, and he felt detached, distanced, as though the memories had happened to someone else. He opened his eyes and raised his head.

Eleni looked steadily at him. He expected to find strain and condemnation in her expression, but instead, there was only peace. Surprised, he felt that peace in himself. The memories no longer tortured him.

Eleni said, “Jorge, you are a good man. Never doubt it. Long ago, you faced the Beast within yourself and vanquished it. Your drom, your road has not been perfect—you have stumbled at times, but you persevere. Be welcome here and carry my blessing with you when you go.”

“You have not judged me.”

“I told you that was not my intent. But I have. I have judged that you made terrible mistakes but fought powerful inner demons to improve your life. Now, go out and be with your friends, for I sense that is what they truly are. Be with Aled—he needs your comfort.”

Jorge was surprised, not expecting her approval. He reluctantly let go of her hands, finding himself at a loss for words. “Thank you,” was all he could think to say.

When Jorge rejoined the men at the fire, he was still at a loss for words. But he caught Coll’s glance, which showed sympathy and understanding. He crossed to the far side of the circle and sat beside Aled, who took his hand.

Kyan said, “While you were with my puri, you missed our discussion of what happened at Hesperon. I thank you once again for saving my son and his friends.” Then he shook his head, smiling ruefully. “If anyone can find trouble, it’s my Col, and in Geraint, he’s found a partner in mischief. When you journey back, I hope trouble will turn a blind eye on you all.”

“Mischief? I am the most sober and balanced person you will ever meet. I avoid trouble at all costs!” said Geraint.

Col choked with laughter.

*    *    *

That night, Jorge was invited to sleep in Gethen and Aled’s tent, while Geraint went with Andri and Col. Gethen and Keven would have slept outside, but a light rain started to fall.

Before entering the tent, Geraint just had to see his horses one more time. Brishind was tethered near Buino and behaved respectfully around his sire while Shade roamed free. The mare touched noses with the stallion who had previously sired the colt upon her.

“I hope she won’t come into season again and want to mate,” Geraint said. “She is getting too old.”

Col nudged his friend. “You are never too old for Love!” he pronounced.

“Is that a proposition? Because I’ll take it. Sore as you are, Andri can’t wait to get his hands; no, I mean his cock in you, and I intend to help him.”

Inside the tent, by the light of the orb, they arranged blankets and stripped off their clothes. Geraint brought out a bottle of lubricant and a towel. “We will have to forego the bondage, I think,”

“I hope you are joking,” Col said and shuddered.

“Partly,” admitted the old Warrior as he lay back. “But that’s another thing you can face in time.”

“I know. Just not now. Well, what do you suggest we do first?”

“I could always talk to you and make you cum, like I did once with Brynnan,” said Geraint.

“Or, I could suck Andri’s cock. Like this . . .”

Andri was leaning against Geraint’s chest as Col carefully bent over him. He stroked Col’s hair and back, feeling his lover’s light kisses on his chest and stomach, working their way down to Andri’s rising penis. It did not take long before it became erect. “Don’t take it all the way in,” instructed the young bard. “You’ll hurt your mouth. Just work on the head.”

Col took Andri’s suggestion. At first, he licked the shaft before swirling his tongue around the glans. Then he paused. “Beng take me! I think a tooth is loose.”

“It will heal,” said Geraint. “Or if it falls out, we will get you a gold one.”

“Then I’ll have girls chasing me. They like to wear gold.” Col bent his head again and resumed sucking. This time he concentrated until Andri moaned in response.

“Hold off, dear one. I don’t want to cum just yet.” Andri groaned.

Col complied, instead switching to Geraint’s thick, rigid member.

“Don’t even try to suck, lad,” said Geraint. “You’ll split your lip again. Just lick the outside.”

The old Warrior watched, feeling his lust rise, as Col licked the pre-cum off the tip, and Andri slowly stroked his own cock, keeping it erect.

“Take my place against Geraint, lover,” Andri instructed. “I really need to suck you!”

Col moved to lean against Geraint’s furry belly. His back was tender, but Geraint’s body heat soothed him. Geraint’s huge cock reared beside his thigh, and he grasped it in his left hand, rubbing it back and forth as Andri enclosed Col’s penis in his mouth, sucking it in deep.

Col sighed in satisfaction and closed his eyes. “Ves’tacha, my heart, we are together again, we three, where we belong. I think I’ll heal fast with the right amount of love.”

“Every night, my dear husband,” whispered Andri, then took Col’s cock in even deeper.

The rain pattered on the tent’s roof, making a hissing sound, enclosing them in its moist embrace.

*    *    *

To be continued . . .