Col and Andri: The Vanna Stallions

The Stallion’s Revenge

As Col and his party reached Redstone Holding, Deieros horsemen rode out to escort them, led by Asirin, Strategos Arcturus’ erômenos. But that was not all, for a surprise visitor accompanied them.

“Kyros!” Geraint exclaimed in surprise to Andri. “He should be in Torrent Mountain, not here. I hope all is well.”

Andri saw the handsome leader of the Torrent Mountain Deieros band riding beside Asirin. He felt a flood of mixed emotions: he had once been nearly claimed by the Deieros—by Kyros specifically, but Andri had also offered Kyros the comfort of his body. It had been almost four years since he had last laid eyes on him.

The two parties merged and exchanged greetings. Geraint introduced Col, Aled, Gethen, Keven and Jorge to Kyros. “Andri, you already know,” he added noncommittally.

Kyros’ glance at Andri held warmth and promise, then he asked, “And is Jorge also a warrior?”

“No, young lord, I’m just a hunter,” Jorge replied, holding Kyros’ gaze as they weighed each other up.

The Strategos’ brow creased, and he would have questioned him, but Col interrupted, “Jorge saved our lives. He is a very good hunter.”

“Let us get to the Holding, and we can discuss your journey with Arcturus,” said Asirin.

But Geraint’s curiosity would not be denied. “What is Kyros doing here, Asirin? Did your erastes invite him?”

Kyros answered directly. “The Warlord Samir sent me personally, along with picked members of our band, to escort you home, my friend. Naturally, he wants you safe.”

“Naturally. I look forward to it. Now I will have some good company to help shorten the road. Did you bring Orion?”

“My erômenos waits for us at the hold.”

Asirin said, “I see horses, including two outstanding new stallions. So your mission is a success, Col?”

“Ye-es, with some small missteps along the way that have been corrected. I’m sure Strategos Arcturus will want a full recounting, or as full as we can give.”

As they were welcomed into the Holding, Andri had a displaced feeling as if the interim weeks at the Wanderers’ Spring Gathering, and Col’s unfortunate adventure with Lord Mellea, had been a dream.

They were settled in with fine courtesy and shared a meal in the hall with the Deieros warriors. Arcturus, the Redstone Strategos, presided with his partner and lover, Asirin, next to him. Kyros and his erômenos, Orion, were seated at his left hand. Arcturus listened carefully to Col, Geraint and Aled’s account of their journey to Hesperon and the subsequent events that had taken place. Col spoke very little of his family and their time at the Gathering: such knowledge was not to be shared too freely outside his people. He announced his and Andri’s handfasting but did not mention their son, Kham. The others of his party also refrained from speaking of such matters, following Col’s lead.

Geraint said to Arcturus, “When I return to Torrent Mountain, the Council of Seven will have to discuss the involvement of Lord Mellea. Perhaps there will be a need for a new meeting with Hesperon’s leadership, and m’Lord Samir may call up the Deieros. I trust things here have been quiet in our absence?”

Arcturus replied, “I would say too quiet except for a peculiar incident: yesterday night, a disturbance among the horses turned out to pasture occurred. Brothers on duty heard a horse cry out in distress but could see nothing until the morning. Then a horse was discovered lame. Not unusual in itself, but there was a deep scratch across the lower hind leg, over the tendon area. It was fortunate that the cut went no deeper, or the horse would have been permanently lamed. The horse guards said it looked like a knife wound because the cut was so clean. It’s a mystery, but they are keeping a lookout.”

Listening, Col felt an icy feeling in his gut and tendrils of premonition teased his mind. He tried not to show any alarm, but Andri caught his change in mood.

‘What is the matter, my husband?’

‘Something malicious is at work,’ Col sent back.

‘Some evil spirit of bad luck?’

‘It is certainly prikaza—bad luck—but not, I think, a spirit.’

“May we ride out later? I would examine this horse,” Col said aloud to Arcturus.

“I would appreciate your expertise Horsemaster Col. See what you can make of it,” Arcturus replied. Then he called out, “Arton! More wine for our guests!”

The young page boy came forward bearing a glass amphora and began to pour. He was grinning under his fall of bright, red hair.

Col smiled at him and then asked, “Arcturus, may I bring your page boy with me? Before we left here last time, I promised him a riding lesson.”

As Arcturus thought about it, Asirin laid a hand on his lover’s arm. “He has been diligent in his lessons on how to serve an erastes. Can we reward him?”

Arcturus’ serious demeanour eased, and he nodded his assent.

*    *    *

The ride to the pastures was only a short distance from the Hold. The pageboy, Arton, rode a tall chestnut mare of high temperament, but he handled it well. Along the way, Col showed him how to keep the horse “on the bit” while still maintaining a lighter touch on the reins. They reviewed some basic and then more advanced gaits, and Arton felt proud when he put the horse into a canter so collected that its speed was as slow as a walk. The horse flicked her ears and swished her tail but listened to the boy.

“You will soon learn to ride her like that without reins, controlling her with your body alone. A warhorse allows you to wield your sword or handle a bow while you ride,” Col told Arton.

When they reached the pasture, Col turned his attention to the incident of the injured horse. He removed the bandage on the cut and examined the leg. He made himself remain seemingly detached, but inside, his unease grew.

“It is indeed a knife wound. I wonder why the horse wasn’t permanently crippled,” Col told the Deieros Horsemaster, Altus.

They discussed the deed without coming to a conclusion, but Col decided then and there to keep their own horses stabled at the Hold and have them guarded.

“If we catch the culprit, he will get no mercy from us. We cannot risk the herd,” said Altus.

Returning to the Hold, Col downplayed the incident and showed Arton how to cling to a horse’s side, so the rider was not visible. He cantered up to Andri in this position until he was beside his lover, then leapt upright on the horse’s back with a wild whoop, startling Andri and delighting the young page.

*    *    *

In the evening, Geraint came to Andri and Col’s chamber, bringing Kyros and his erômenos, Orion, a handsome fair-skinned youth with curling brown hair and green eyes. The boy’s looks contrasted with Kyros’, dark-haired and olive-skinned, sporting a trimmed black beard. The Deieros leader kept his hair long, styled in a fall of multiple thin braids pulled back and fastened with a gold cord. He was in the prime of his manhood, still young and vigorous.

Andri gazed at him, remembering when Kyros had fucked him: the feel of the warrior’s strong thigh muscles pushing against his ass. The young bard unexpectedly felt his cock stir. As they shared wine and conversation, Andri gradually relaxed. Then Geraint placed his cup on the table before him, gathering their attention.

“Kyros, Orion and I came to know each other well socially and sexually. When the Invaders felled Brynnan in Scarfell Pass, I could not leave but kept a vigil at his tomb. At first, I was alone, but then Kyros arrived with the lad here and said he’d stay with me. It was a haunted place: the tomb glowed at night, guarded by ravens not of this world. We three watched together and shared our bodies in the ensuing days.”

Andri shivered at the tale and reached for Col’s hand, gripping it tightly. He imagined both the loneliness, and the fear of the following supernatural events. He did not doubt Geraint. Once committed to a course of action, the old Warrior never wavered. However, he realized the courage Kyros and Orion showed in supporting him.

“Anyway,” Geraint continued, “Tonight we are going to play with each other’s bodies. Would you two care to join us?”

Col and Andri looked at each other. Col touched Andri’s mind with a thought. ‘We will part ways with Geraint shortly, and I’d like to be with him as much as possible.’

“I’m game if you are, ves’tacha,” Col said aloud.

Kyros’ eyes were on Andri’s, and the young bard was struck by the hope in them. He remembered the previous occasion when he had given his body to this man: at the time, Kyros had been deeply saddened by the loss of his erômenos. Now he was a proud and capable warrior-leader who had discovered love once more. But still . . .

Andri made up his mind. “Yes, I think I would like that. Give us a short time to prepare ourselves.”

“We can meet in my room,” Kyros offered. “The bed in there could sleep half a phalanx of foot soldiers.”

*    *    *

“Ves’tacha, are you sure about this?” Col said as he and Andri approached the door to Kyros’ chamber.

Andri thought briefly, then replied, “We are only staying a couple more days. I don’t want to miss any time with Geraint. But are you comfortable with Kyros and me being together? It seems he hasn’t forgotten the time we made love. Did you see his expression? Almost . . .vulnerable.”

“I think it must have meant a lot to him then,” said Col. “Just don’t let him get too fond of you!”

“Funny. That’s what Geraint said at the time,” Andri responded.

A guard stationed outside the door held a javelin. Seeing the two young men, he formally saluted and stepped aside. “Strategos Kyros is expecting you,” he said.

Geraint was already present inside the chamber. Kyros and Orion, stripped down to short pleated kilts, greeted them. “Be welcome,” said Kyros, “and may the spirits of fortune attend you both.”

Col looked around, frankly taking in the large chamber. It was sparse but comfortable, and, as Kyros had promised, the bed was huge. The companions conversed for a while, with Geraint sitting next to young Orion, who stroked the old Warrior’s thigh.

“Andri and I would partner with you, Kyros,” Col said.

“I will enjoy that.” Kyros’ eyes brightened as he approached.

The young Wanderer stood, took Andri’s hand and pulled him to his feet. He stripped off his shirt and breeches, then helped Andri remove his clothes. Kyros dropped the kilt he wore, revealing a handsome cock, already semi-erect. Col made the first move, reaching out to stroke Kyros’ penis while leaning in to kiss him. Then Andri embraced them both, running one hand down his lover’s muscular back and stroking Kyros’ chest and nipples with his other hand. In his previous sexual encounter with Kyros, he had played the submissive, but now he was older and much more comfortable with his sexuality.

Geraint and Orion were already on the enormous bed, and Orion sucked Geraint’s giant, thick cock. They moved over to make room for the others as Col climbed on, holding a bottle of lubricant in his hand. He grinned at Kyros. “Allow me,” he said.

He poured the liquid into his hand and stroked Kyros’ member, which quickly became fully hard, before applying it to Andri and himself. Kyros reached out and grasped both Andri and Col’s cocks, his grip firm as he pulled upwards, sliding the slick skin over their love muscles. His gaze, however, pierced the young bard’s eyes, holding him with the promise of a fucking to come.

Andri found himself readily responding. He appreciated Col stepping into the action with him, rescuing him, so he felt free to express himself. He lay back on the linen cover as Kyros stretched his body over Andri, their cocks rubbing together, with Kyros undulating his hips and thrusting against him. Now Col knelt at his lover’s head so that both Andri and Kyros could reach his cock. His lover grasped it and fed it into Kyros’ eager lips as the older man took it into his mouth, swallowing it to the hilt. Occasionally he would break off to kiss Andri, thrusting his tongue inside and claiming his mouth before swallowing Col’s dusky penis again.

Beside them, Geraint had rolled Orion to his back and thrust himself into the erômenos’ ass. “Watch what your erastes is doing to my friends,” he ordered the boy. “He’s sucking Col, and I think you will see him cum very soon.”

Underneath Kyros’s body, Andri’s arousal had inspired him to the point where he spontaneously opened his thighs and tilted his hips. Kyros’s next move brought his penis in contact with Andri’s anal ring and the Deieros warrior pushed against it. Soaked with lubricant and copious pre-cum, his rigid staff thrust into the rectal passage, making Andri moan in lust.

Col pushed his cock into Andri’s mouth so that his lover could suck him off as Kyros pumped into the rectal passage. Then Kyros again took over from Andri, swallowing the young Horsemaster’s cock. Kyros was now thrusting in earnest and fucking Andri with abandon, riding his ass. Col held Kyros’s black braids, forcing the man’s head onto his crotch and fucking his mouth.

Geraint fucked Orion harder. “Watch closely now; Col is about to cum. I want you to time your ejaculation with his.”

“Yes, Geraint,” Orion gasped, nearly lost in the sensations brought about by Geraint’s masterful strokes.

Col’s body suddenly went rigid. “I’m cumming now,” he groaned. As the cum jetted into Kyros’ throat, Andri seized his lover’s testicles, squeezing and manipulating them, urging them to empty their seed. Mentally sharing his husband’s orgasm prompted Andri to ejaculate, too, and his cum flooded over his body, covering Kyros’ stomach.

Under Geraint’s pounding, Orion could no longer hold back, and his cum sprayed over his chest in a pearly fountain. Geraint bent down and licked it off the boy’s nipples. But he himself did not ejaculate—not yet: he had other ideas. He rolled off his young partner and moved on top of Kyros. Taking lubricant, he poured it over his cock, and the Deieros warrior’s ass. Then he thrust inside.

Kyros still fucked Andri, but he allowed Geraint’s thrusts to set the pace. He could not hold off, however: being fucked, and soaked in Andri’s ejaculate, triggered him, making him cry out aloud as he came. Geraint, a master at such things, allowed his own orgasm to finally take place and shot his load simultaneously. He knew Kyros could feel the erupting cock inside him, even as the Strategos’ own cock still pumped cum into Andri.

They collapsed over each other in exhausted release, allowing the tide of satiation to claim their bodies. Andri slid out from under Kyros just enough to enable Col to stretch out beside him and hold him in his arms.

‘Thank you, my husband,’ he sent. ‘I did not want to be with Kyros by myself.’

Col’s mental joy flooded his mind, ‘You cannot escape me that easily, ves’tacha! Now rest, and we can take on Geraint next.’

They spent the rest of the night in loving action, interspersed with short bouts of sleep. Eventually, Col and Andri took their leave after using the luxurious bathing facilities attached to Kyros’s chamber.

They slept more in their own room until Col awoke from a disturbing dream. He sat bolt upright, awakening Andri with his movement.

“What is wrong, beloved?” Andri asked him.

“The horses—I’ve got to check the horses!”

As Col leapt out of bed, Andri groaned. “Not again!”

*    *    *

There was distress and pain inside the stable building where Col’s stallions were. Col’s awareness was flooded with both. A Vanna stallion was greatly perturbed, but the pain did not emanate from him.

“Where is the cursed guard? Hurry, Andri, rouse them and the stable boys while I reach Geraint!” Col shouted as he rushed to the stall.

Andri was unwilling to leave Col’s side until he assured himself that Col would be in no imminent danger. The horses were calling each other, their voices upset and shrill amidst the general disturbance and stamping of hooves. Col thought something was definitely wrong, as his mind reached out to the black Vanna stallion, who protested the loudest. He thought of the injured horse in the pasture and prayed, ‘Bari Devlaika–Great Goddess, let the stallion be unharmed!’

He arrived at the stall and looked inside. There was blood all over the straw. ‘No. Let it not be!’

As he made his way inside, he noticed something else on the straw: the body of a man. He approached slowly, projecting calm towards the agitated horse, speaking to its mind.

‘Easy there, my lad. Be calm. I am here  . . .’

Andri stood at the stall door, not wanting to crowd the horse, as Col knelt beside the body.

‘It—it’s Zoltan. I think he is dead.’ Col’s mind-voice portrayed his shock.

Andri approached and knelt by the still form. He spoke aloud.

“It’s him, alright. His chest appears to be caved in . . .wait! He’s bleeding—he must be still alive.”

Col was reluctant to touch a corpse, but a living man was different. He knelt down and bent close. “Zoltan, do you hear me? It is Col who is with you.”

“Col . . .” It was the barest whisper. “Hurts to breathe . . .dying.”

“You came to bring us harm. But I will not let your mulo walk. I forgive you. Go with God.”

“No! I will haunt . . .”

“I forgive you,” Col repeated, his tone implacable, almost at odds with the words.

But Zoltan was beyond answering.

Col felt Andri’s hand on his shoulder, and his lover’s voice spoke to his mind.

‘Forgive him? I find it hard to. If he had not been exiled, he might have gone after your family, even after our son, Kham!”

“You must forgive him; otherwise, his ghost might walk. He needs to be put to rest,” Col said.

“But look!” said Andri, pointing to an object in the straw: a short sharp knife.

Col stared at it, but he did not pick it up. But at that moment, Geraint arrived, along with Arcturus himself, his eromenos Asirin and several warriors. Two young grooms accompanied them.

Geraint swiftly evaluated the situation, and he quickly took charge. “Col, move over to the horse. He needs to be calmed, then taken out of this stall.” He turned to the grooms. “Open up another stall, as far from this one as you can. When we have moved the body, you can clean out this one. Put the bloody straw in a burn pile.”

The boys hastened to obey.

Geraint himself came and examined the body before picking up the knife. “Arcturus, it seems your mystery is solved. Here is your offender who attacked the horse up in the pasture. He was after Col and Andri.”

“Ask of me whatever you need. What do you want to be done with the body? Is he dead for certain?”

“Oh yes,” Geraint said. “The stallion defended himself.”

Col said, “It was Devleski kris—a judgement from the God. This man brought it upon himself. We bury our dead, but I would ask that you burn this body. He would not let go of his evil in life.”

“It shall be done,” Arcturus said with a grim expression.

But Andri said, “Zoltan tracked us—in fact, he must have reached Redstone Holding before us. How did we not know?

“He was a Wanderer. It’s a skill many of us have,” Col replied simply.

*    *    *

“Do you need me with you?” Andri asked Col. They walked outside.

“No, ves’tacha. If you are asking if Zoltan’s death will haunt me, the answer is no. He made his choices, as we all must do. I refuse to let him affect my life further, and I hope you will do the same. Just as I will not let myself be haunted by the men I was forced to kill. I accept responsibility, but we have a greater one now to become loving parents to our son: a family Kham can rely on. Geraint and I talked. He is the father of many battles. He is a Warrior and knows how to deal with his actions.”

“I’m glad you won’t let it affect you for the worse,” said Andri. “It’s another lesson, I guess, a powerful lesson in what not to do in our lives. But doesn’t it bother you that it was one of your own people?”

“Of course it does, but the gadje, the non-Wanderers, don’t have a total claim on evil. It lurks in wait for us all.”

“Shall we go back in? We should talk to our friends. You had better explain to Jorge how we did not detect Zoltan tracking us. He will take it personally, I think.”

“You go on ahead, ves’tacha. I will stay here awhile and see if I can contact Puridaia Eleni. My people—our people—must be informed. Go with God.”

Andri did not try to argue Col out of his resolve. He knew when his lover needed space.

“Stay with God, my husband. You will find me with Geraint and our friends.”

*    *    *

A day later, the grassy, open arena held a crowd of warriors, both the Redstone Deieros and Kyros’ Torrent Mountain band. Arcturus had decreed that the Dance of Cuts would be held, wisely giving an outlet for his warriors’ frustrations in not catching the intruder before he attempted more harm.

Andri entered the circle. The last time he had seen the Deieros’ Dance of Cuts, he had been tied to a tree, awaiting the outcome of a dance between Brynnan and a Deieros challenger. Now, it was himself who would try his hand. The Dance was a Warrior’s art form and sword training method that was not limited to only the Deieros: the warriors of ArMorica practised it, and it was taught as a mental discipline to the students at the ArMor-ys College, where Andri continued to study.

Kyros volunteered to compete with Andri and then with Col, who was just beginning to learn the art form. The danger would not be significant, however: this was a training bout, and their blades were guarded.

The drummers started the rhythm slowly as Kyros and Andri put themselves in position. As the experienced partner, Kyros called the first response that would correspond with his move in this permutation of the play. It was not difficult, and Andri reacted correctly, calling the response back to Kyros for the sword move he then made. The actions were designed to be elegant in their purity, shorn of excessive flourishes or ornamentation. Yet they were graceful to watch, the calls and responses blending into a seamless whole.

The drummers’ rhythm increased, and the pace picked up, but Kyros did not push it beyond Andri’s abilities. Still, he challenged the young bard to work at the limits of his skill until, inevitably, Kyros scored the first “cut,” but his stroke merely left a red welt on Andri’s bare torso. However, the watching Warriors’ enthusiastic applause heartened Andri.

“You have done well,” Kyros said, embracing him. “We’ll make a Dancer of you yet!”

Then it was Col’s turn. He had not trained as long as Andri, but his natural quickness and agility still impressed the onlookers. Eventually, he, too, bore a “cut” from Kyros’ sword. He capitulated with good grace, laughing and clapping Kyros on the shoulder.

After their respective bouts, Col and his partner joined the onlookers, and they admired the skill of subsequent dancers. Some of them practiced with guarded blades, but the most experienced Deieros warriors used bare steel and were rewarded with real cuts, but there were no serious injuries. Even Gethen took a turn and acquitted himself well, although Aled joked that he would join the “old folks,” meaning Geraint and Jorge, and sit the dance out. But Col suspected that for all Jorge’s grey hairs, he might have shocked even the Deieros with his skill. He clearly recalled Jorge’s deadly moves when fighting Lord Mellea’s soldiers.

Afterwards, there were feats of horsemanship, and naturally, Col excelled, demonstrating his unique skills. In particular, the young page Arton—Asirin’s future erômenos—reacted with excitement. His enthusiastic applause to Col’s moves bore the marks of hero-worship, making Col laugh and prompting him to give Arton another riding lesson, with Asirin’s permission.

The day ended with a feast in the Great Hall. Afterwards, Col and Andri spent the night in lovemaking with Geraint and each other.

Lying in bed afterwards, Geraint, on his back with his hands behind his head, said, “For all his serious nature, Arcturus did well in arranging these games today. He knows when his warriors need their morale boosting.”

“And ours,” said Col lazily, leaning his head against Geraint’s furry breast.

“Do you think we can escape more trouble on our homeward journeys?” Andri asked.

“We part tomorrow,” replied Geraint. “I have an escort, but I trust you two will be well looked after. You are going by way of Jorge’s steading? Good. Don’t forget that King Arawn also has a stake in your journey.”

“Actually, that worries me a little,” laughed Col.

“My young friends, cast your worries aside for now. The night is just beginning, and this old bear is with you. Let me see if I can think up some new tricks I haven’t yet taught you. Have we done the “six-legged-dog” position?”

“You’re just making that up!”

“Am I? Here, let me show you . . .”

*    *    *

To be continued . . .