Col and Andri: The Vanna Stallions

A Meeting with Eleni

Andri stood by his horse in the inner courtyard at Redstone Holding, preparing to leave with the others in his small party. He noticed Asirin, Strategos Arcturus’ erômenos, or lover, approaching. Asirin’s arm was thrown around the shoulders of the young red-haired apprentice and page, Arton. Andri had to admit the pair would make an attractive couple when Arton matured and could be sexually initiated into the Brotherhood of Deieros.

“Andri, I wish you weren’t leaving so soon,” said Arton breathlessly. “I would have liked you to watch me practice my skills on horseback. Asirin is training me. I will be a horse warrior like him and like your erastai Col!”

Andri and Asirin’s eyes met in understanding, and the young bard smiled as he replied, “The Earth Mother willing, we will stop here on our return, and you can show me, Arton.”

Asirin, a handsome young man with long, dark braided hair, said, “We would welcome you, Arcturus and I, and our young trainee Arton, here.”

The look he gave Andri held a warmth more than a simple welcome, which stirred his body unexpectedly. There was a promise there if Andri should accept it. The young bard recalled that when he’d been a captive of the Deieros a few turns past, Asirin had been the voice of reason to Arcturus’ more abrupt judgements. In a sense, he owed him a debt.

But now Asirin scanned Andri’s old red cloak that he wore for rough travel. “That was one of ours, was it not? The double-cat pin my erastai gave you yesterday looks fine on it.”

“Yes,”  admitted Andri. “It was Kyros’ gift after I gave him my body since I had no cloak of my own.”

Asirin’s expression was complicit as he embraced Andri. “Farewell for now. I hope when you return, you will call me ‘friend,’”

“And me, too!” Arton said, clasping Andri’s waist in an impulsive hug.

Andri laughed, “Of course you, too! You rescued Brynnan and me!”

“Come, Arton,” said Asirin. Let us say farewell to Geraint and Col and their friends.”

Andri watched them go, then mounted his horse, black Kalo, and joined Geraint and Col.

“I trust your ass isn’t too sore after last night’s fun?” grinned Geraint. “You slept well, too!”

Andri felt chagrined. “I know I fell asleep while sucking your cock last night, but I made it up to you this morning, didn’t I?”

“You certainly did!” Now Geraint laughed out loud, causing warriors nearby to turn their heads.

Col, however, was all business. “Asirin and his men will accompany us across the ford, up to the turnoff on the main trail. Then we’re on our own. Geraint’s colt, Brishind, as he’s now calling him, will follow us without being led. He’s accustomed to being with his dam, Shade. We’ll keep an eye on him. Are you ready, ves’tacha? Then let’s go.”

The party moved out of the gate with the Deieros warriors in the lead. Andri looked back to see some of the stable boys waving to him, and he waved in return.

Crossing the ford at the Ironstrike River brought back memories of a desperate flight to Andri. He wondered how Geraint felt as they followed their guides through the churning water. The old Warrior had fought the vengeful Lady of the Keep, killing her but being wounded in the process. However, it had all led to Andri’s meeting Col . . .

Then the river was behind them, and the company climbed the slope on the other side. They rode along the main trail, with Col in the lead beside Asirin, until they came to a track leading through the forest. There they dismounted for a brief rest. After sharing bread and a stirrup cup of mead, the Deieros said farewell for the second time. The warriors turned back, leaving Col’s party on its own.

Andri sighed in satisfaction as he rode beside Col. “Now it’s just us five again,” he said. “I’m glad Gethen and Aled can accompany us now that your Grandmother Eleni has given permission. I’ve got used to them, and it’s good for Keven. He and Gethen seem to be in love.”

“Or lust!” laughed Col.

“No, you saw them together last night: there was lots of lust when they fucked each other, but I could see that love was there!”

“Ah, you’re a hopeless romantic, ves’tacha.”

“Me? I suppose I can be, but you are one to talk after leaving your people just to be with me at the College in ArMor-ys.”

Col leaned from his horse and kissed his lover. “Me tut kamav,” was all he said.

*    *    *

Their travel was without incident for the rest of that day. In the evening, they emerged into more open woodland: the heavy coniferous forest giving way to mixed species: birches, oaks and mountain maples with fresh, bright green leaves on reddened stems. The increased sunlight reaching the ground brought wildflowers and abundant ferns. They camped by a stream, with Gethen taking the first watch. Keven cooked them a meal from the welcome gift of supplies they had been given, including wrinkled but still sweet winter apples. Geraint shared a tent with Col and Andri, who both enjoyed cuddling up to his bear-like hairy body. Meanwhile, Keven slept in Aled and Gethen’s tent.

They reached the high open country with fewer woodlands in three more days. Rivers flowed, born in the mountains behind them and sourced from seeps and springs in the hills. Everywhere was green, prompting Keven to hobble and tether their horses lest they graze too much on the rich spring grass and risk colic.

As evening approached, Keven beckoned Col and Andri over.

“What is it, Kev?” asked Col. “Looks like something’s on your mind.”

“Yes,” he admitted. “It’s Aled. I’m concerned for him.”

“Oh? What’s wrong?” said Andri.

“Since we left Jorge’s steading, he’s been more taciturn than usual. I think that the hunter preys on his mind. He and Jorge were becoming close. Aled is worried about him, and I think he misses Jorge a lot, although he’d never say it. But I sleep in his tent with Gethen. I hear their conversations and can pick up emotions pretty well.”

Col replied thoughtfully, “Well, you are certainly sensitive to horses’ moods. It was one of the reasons Master Gabrien and I chose you to come, as well as you being my friend. I trust your judgement, Kev. What can we do, though?”

“Can you reassure Aled that Jorge is alright?”

“To my knowledge, Jorge does not have the mind-gift, although I can’t be sure. But in my last premonition of the situation, I knew Jorge had narrowly escaped some danger. Certainly, I can try to search the time-that-is, then speak with Aled.”

“I have another suggestion—“ Andri said, then hesitated.

“Let’s hear it, ves’tacha,” urged Col.

“I think Geraint could talk to him. He and Aled are closer in age; they are both old campaigners, and Geraint has seen and experienced almost everything.”

“Not a bad idea if he can approach the subject naturally,” mused Col.

Keven shrugged. “But isn’t he—“

“What?” said Andri. “Tactless? Blunt? Trust me, much of it is an act. He’s a wily old bear. Geraint was my sexual master and teacher for nearly a year. I know him as well as anyone except Brynnan and the Warlord Samir. Geraint is his right-hand man, and Lord Samir would never accept someone tactless, unintelligent or not astute to advise him.”

“But will he do it?” asked Keven skeptically.

“Oh, I think I can persuade him,” Andri said, smiling mysteriously.

*    *    *

After the evening meal, Aled, Col, Geraint and Andri sat at their small fire, talking. Keven saw to the pack horses, and Gethen patrolled their perimeter. Col and Geraint spoke of the final step in their journey. Aled did not join in except to answer practical, direct questions.

Finally, Andri turned to Geraint. “My dear friend and Master, I owe you thanks.”

“Oh? And for what?”

“For last night. Come into the tent, and I’ll tell you.”

Geraint swiftly glanced from Andri to Col and back with his shrewd eyes.

“Very well. I’m always ready to be thanked,” the old Warrior said lightly, covering his awareness that something was up between the two young men. He arose and followed Andri.

Inside, he said, “You’ve got to be a bit more subtle than that, lad, when you need to speak to me.”

Andri flushed. “Subterfuge isn’t my style. We bards are taught to be honest.”

“Really? If you want a lesson in bardic subterfuge, talk to Brynnan about that. His cunning used to frustrate the Dark Spirits themselves, as well as me, who was trying in vain to protect him.”

“I want to talk to you about Aled, then I really do want to “thank” you, as Brynnan used to.”

“Alright. But first, tell me.”

So Andri did, relating the older guard and Jorge’s sexual relationship and how it affected Aled.

“I’m also concerned it may disrupt his concentration when he’s on guard. So, will you speak to him?”

“Oh, I think Aled can be all business when it comes to keeping watch. He’s too seasoned to let things slide. Very well. I’ll do it, but it can’t be rushed.”

“But we don’t have a lot of time.”

“Oh, impatient boy,” sighed Geraint. “In times like this, Brynnan used to recite a piece of ancient wisdom from before the Long Dark.”

“What was that?”

“He’d say: “Ara bach a bob yn dipyn mae sdicio bys i dîn gwybedyn.”

Andri was becoming fluent in the ArMorican tongues, but he struggled with the phrase. “’ Get a finger . . .’ Just tell me,” he said finally.

“You have to go very slowly and bit by bit to get a finger up a fly’s backside,” said Geraint, with a deadpan expression.

“Brynnan said that? I don’t believe you.”

Geraint’s eyes flashed. “Others have accused me of lying, to their cost. Besides, it just means you need patience to achieve a delicate goal.”

“I’m sorry, Geraint. It’s just that I have a hard time imagining Brynnan would say something like that.”

“There’s a lot you can’t imagine Brynnan doing or saying, I expect. Nevertheless, he does them, and he says things. Next time you see him, ask him!”

Andri sighed deeply. “Will there be a ‘next time,’ I wonder?”

“Rest easy, lad. He’ll show up when he’s ready again—and when you least expect it.”

“That comforts me,” said Andri.

“Good, because it’s time you comforted me. I expect you to keep your word, now!” Geraint admonished.

“Yes, Master,” replied Andri, feeling his mood lightening.

Geraint lay back on the bedding and waited, leaving Andri to do everything.

The young bard first unlaced Geraint’s breeches and loosened his clothing, opening his shirt to reveal a muscular, furry chest. He leaned in to suck his nipples, greedily running his hands over his chest and stomach. But Geraint suddenly took Andri’s face in his large hands and kissed him passionately.

“Beautiful boy,” he murmured before kissing him more. He took control of Andri’s mouth, pushing his tongue in fully and tasting him. The young bard returned Geraint’s passion, feeling his own building. Shivers of lust ran down his body, seeming to concentrate in his genital region. He felt his cock stiffening and hurriedly pulled his own clothes off.

A low laugh rumbled in Geraint’s throat. “This is about to get complicated, I think. Here, turn around, and we’ll suck each other.”

Andri was quick to comply, climbing over the old Warrior’s body. As he licked the broad cock head, he felt Geraint take his own cock in his mouth—all the way. Andri moaned as a surge of lust took him, allowing Geraint to shove his cock deep in his throat. He gagged at first—it was so large, but then muscle memory took over, and Andri’s throat relaxed to accommodate Geraint’s meat.

The old warrior had no such hesitation in sucking off Andri’s stiff member in his mouth, pulling it in deep, sliding back . . .teasing the head with lips and tongue. Andri could feel the swallowing movement milking his cock. Andri tasted pre-cum leaking copiously from Geraint’s cock and revelled in it. He was aware that his ejaculation was very near. The old Warrior must have sensed it because his deep sucking now assumed a repetitive rhythm, presenting an inevitability, like a runaway horse heading towards a cliff. Andri tried to hold himself back, but it was impossible. The first waves of ecstasy became a full flood as his cum surged along his cock, exploding in jetting pulses into Geraint’s throat. The old Warrior swallowed it all.

Before Andri could collapse over Geraint’s body, he kept sucking and quickly felt his friend and mentor responding. As the old Warrior ejaculated in his mouth, a surprise surge of lust again claimed Andri, and he found himself cumming again. Then he really was spent.

He lay still, head resting on Geraint’s heavy testicles and softening cock. He didn’t resist when Geraint rolled him to his side.

“Come up here, lad, and give this old bear a hug. You deserve it—that was well done.”

“If I can move . . .” Andri groaned, but he made himself turn around and crawled into Geraint’s strong embrace.

“Col—,” he started to say, but the old Warrior interrupted him.

“Don’t fret. He’ll get his when we retire tonight.”

*    *    *

At the fire, Col told Aled, “When you are on watch, you may find we are under surveillance by my people. If you see someone, don’t shoot them, it could be a Wanderer, not an assassin.”

“Assassins in the mix certainly complicate things, but don’t you think that the two or even three of them have continued on? Hesperon: Jorge mentioned that as their destination.”

“It quite possible,” Col replied,  “though I think there were only two assassins when I found their horses’ tracks at the high pass. There were three horses—two bearing riders, from the depth of the hoof imprints, and one unburdened. I assume the dead man’s horse, although we found no sign of burial. Ah! Here’s Geraint and my own beloved.” He turned to them. “That was a lengthy discussion you two had.”

Geraint replied, “Certain subjects had to be covered, and we both wanted to express ourselves.”

“I am sure you did,” Col grinned, but Andri groaned and rolled his eyes. “Why do I have to be subject to bad puns?

“We can’t all be silver-tongued poets like you, lad.” Geraint shrugged and looked innocent.

“Really?” said Col. “I expect you managed very well.

*    *    *

The late sun cast its light over the hill, but in the East, rain clouds painted the sky, showing pink on top where the sun illuminated them. The group at the fire observed an unusual rainbow that quickly winked into existence. Instead of the usual bow, the colours shone in a monolithic tower. Then it faded. For some reason, Col shivered, feeling tendrils of premonition as if something was coming. He kept silent, however, not wanting to alarm his friends.

Soon, Gethen came into the camp’s centre from his perimeter patrol. He greeted them before singling out Aled. It was their habit to report to each other at a watch change.

Then Gethen turned to Col. “All is calm. The beasts show no disturbance. It might rain later: the wind has turned.” Then he looked around. Keven left a little while ago from where I met him by the horses. He’s not back yet?”

“I’m here!” Keven called out as he left the tent he shared. “Come have supper, Gethen, and let Aled take over.”

Aled threw his cloak around his shoulders. “I’m on my way. Geraint is coming with me for a short time.”

*    *    *

Col and Andri lay together in their tent when Geraint returned, waking Col, a light sleeper.

“Did you speak with Aled? How did it go?” said Col, rubbing his eyes with his hand.

“Yes, we spoke, and I believe his mind is eased, especially after I told him about your premonitions about Jorge.”

“Did you and Aled—?”

“Never you mind. That’s between him and me.”

Col shrugged apologetically. “You know I’m naturally curious.”

Geraint paused to undo his coat, then replied, “I know. It’s one of the things I like about you. You’re quick and smart—sometimes too smart!”

“Can’t help it!” Col said, grinning.

“Just help me undress. We need to sleep. So does your friend, Keven. I passed their tent and heard him and Gethen fucking. Ah! Young love!”

*    *    *

The small party travelled without incident the next day, following the route Col’s grandmother had placed in his mind. As they approached the river, they noticed two riders coming.

“Don’t be alarmed!” said Col, forestalling Aled, who was reaching for his bow. “They are friends come to meet us. We are very close now.”

As they drew nearer, Andri noticed the strong resemblance one of the riders bore to Col. “It’s your brother !” he exclaimed.

“Rafe! Bari Devlaika blesses our meeting!” shouted Col with joyful abandon.

He galloped his horse to meet his brother, flinging himself onto Rafe’s horse in front of the man and embracing him. Startled, Rafe’s horse reared up and danced.

“Easy now, little phal—little brother! Now your horse is running loose.” But he was also laughing as he spoke.

Col called his horse, and it came obediently alongside Rafe’s own. The young Wanderer reached across, seized the saddle and vaulted into it, now seated again on his own beast.

“You remember Kashi, of course.”

Kashi, a darker-complexioned older man with a stubble beard, saluted from his horse, a beautiful black Vanna mare. “I heard you had become all grown up and serious, Col, but I still see that irrepressible boy who loved to play tricks.”

“I am all solemn and grown-up, but the child within escapes occasionally. I never want to be serious all the time.”

“That won’t be a problem, my brother,” said Rafe. “Now let’s go meet Geraint and Andri and your friends.”

Rafe was enthusiastic about renewing his friendship with Andri and Geraint. When Andri and Brynnan had escaped from captivity in Redstone several turns ago, Rafe had been instrumental in foiling the enemy’s pursuit of Andri, fighting alongside Geraint at the ford and leading them all to safety. They had been sheltered by Col’s father, Kyan, and his grandmother, the Seer, Eleni. Indeed, There would be much to talk about.

But now, it was time to move on. As the party travelled towards the Spring Gathering’s location, they were joined by more of the Wanderers. They became cheerful and noisy as they finally arrived at the large encampment. Several kumpanias or groups, comprised of vitsas, or extended families, came together each Spring.

Near the broad river, groups of colourful wagons clustered among the trees. The atmosphere was busy and cheerful, with children running, people gathering around fires, horses grazing, and wandering long-haired goats and other smaller animals roaming free. Fragrant smoke from cooking fires hazed the air, and sunlight sparkled on the nearby river.

Rafe led them to two carved and painted wagons set farther apart from the others. “Grandmother Eleni needs space for her spirit searches,” he explained.

“You have a new wagon!” exclaimed Col.

“Well, you know I am married now. And a father to my own two children,” said Rafe, looking content.

“That’s right! I hear your news from Grandmother. Sara is your wife, and you have a daughter named Miryam. But I did not hear about a second child! Why wasn’t I told?”

Rafe seemed to hesitate, then recovered his cheerful demeanour. “A boy. He has not yet had his naming ceremony. We are waiting for the circumstances to be right. We just call him ‘Kamlo.’”

Seeing Andri’s puzzled glance, Col said, “It just means “loved one,’ like when I tell you ‘Tu miro kamlo.’ I suppose it’s fine while he is small, but it’s hardly a man’s name.”

“We’re waiting to be inspired,” said Rafe inscrutably.

Just then, the door of the older wagon opened, and a beautiful old woman stepped out, dressed in gold bracelets and a dark blue dress tied at the waist with scarves. Her silver hair flowed loose from beneath a silk band. When she looked up, the power of her gaze gripped them all. She focused on Col and Andri.

“T’aves baxtalo—welcome, children of my heart,” she said to them. “Come here, Grandson, and bring your heart-friend.”

Col seized Andri’s wrist and dragged him over. “Grandmother Eleni! Now I behold you in the flesh!”

“Who is this baro grast, this big stallion? Where is the boy who left us to chase love?” she laughed.

Then she took Andri’s hands. “I have waited for you to come here, Andri from Torrent Mountain. I have had a foreseeing—ah, Col! Don’t interrupt. I am not here to pronounce doom, although there will be challenges.” She turned back to Andri. “Tomorrow, there will be a new beginning for you and Col. This I have seen. I ask you to put your trust in me.”

Despite faint misgivings, Andri looked down into her dark, wise eyes. “I give you my trust, Grandmother.” Then, half-jokingly, he asked, “Will it hurt?”

She smiled, and there was a touch of wickedness in her glance. “Tomorrow, all will be revealed.”

*    *    *

To be continued . . .