The Initiate - Prologue

"The Initiate"

Prologue

It was a brisk afternoon in late October, and the sunlight had already begun to fade across the Alberta wilderness. The Autumn air was growing colder, the days shorter. The fowl had started their yearly process of heading south, and the bears prepared for their coming hibernation. The rivers and streams that snaked across the mountain slowed and grew quiet. A stone house stood alone in the forest, in a hidden clearing at the end of an unpaved road. Smoke arose from the two chimneys. As it climbed to the sky, the thick white puffs met the first light, airy snowflakes of the season. The crystals danced as they descended from the heavens, being blown away by the wind before reaching the ground. Watching the snow fall from his window, Silas found himself envious of the forest beings who had the ability to depart for warmer climates, or bear the cold with ease. Every winter, it seemed, the outdoors grew more harsh and unforgiving to him. Best to stay inside, he thought, kept warm by the fire and other sources of heat. As if on cue, a low whistle started to sound behind him.

Turning from the window, he went to the wood-burning stove. The water he had placed there had begun to boil, and he removed the kettle from where it sat. Silas glanced at his reflection in the window as he prepared his libation. A man of 65, he was tall, broad-shouldered and bald. Shaving his head smooth was part of his daily ritual. The lack of hair was offset by bushy eyebrows and a full, thick beard. All as white as the driven snow. Piercing blue eyes were neatly framed by spectacles, made of the same metal as the Pentagram necklace he wore. 

He looked down upon the counter and poured his tea, enjoying the aroma as it filled his nostrils. Heading into the den, took a seat by the fire, passing the room's other occupant in the process. The second man, similar in appearance but twenty years younger, his beard still dark with a hint of gray, was deep in thought as he read his book. Holding his robe as he walked past, avoiding the licking flames from the hearth, Silas couldn't help but chuckle. Placing his cup upon the wooden end table, he lowered himself into the chair and studied his companion quietly. I remember when we first met, he thought. The townsfolk and tourists used to question if we were father and son. Now, we are more often confused for brothers. 

Silas closed his eyes, then opened them. Taking the tea in his hands, he prepared himself for the conversation that had been long in the making. Drawing a breath, his voice rose clearly and strongly above the sounds of the crackling fire.

"I believe the time is coming, Arthur," Silas quietly said as he sipped his tea. 

Looking up from his book, Arthur replied, "Time for what, my Sage?" 

Smiling at Arthur and peering over his glasses, Silas answered. "You know for what, my lad. The time has come for us to look for a new initiate. It was twenty winters ago that you came to this land, and twenty winters prior that I had begun my own training." Placing his cup upon the table, he clasped his hands and said. "Seeing these woods grow still and cold has allowed me to accept a truth. We must face the reality that I am in the Winter of my life as well. My time in these woods may be coming to an end soon. But, as always, there will be a Spring. A rebirth and renewal where last year's offspring come of age."

Arthur's eyes widened in fear, then narrowed in annoyance. "Silas, come... Do not speak of such things. Your place is here, your time is now. You have the strength and stamina of a man half your age. You are the Steward of this land and sacred space." Shifting in his chair, Arthur closed his book and set it down beside him. Continuing, his voice betrayed his true emotions, trepidation and longing. "You are the Father, I am your Youth..." 

A gentle laugh escaped Silas's lips, and he walked towards Arthur where he sat. Placing his hands on Arthur's shoulders, the younger man raised his gaze higher, and they stared into each others eyes. Arthur felt his body relax at the touch, and shut his eyes as he was soothed. 

Silas kissed him on his forehead and said, "My dear Arthur. You know you will always be a lad to me, but you are no Youth. Neither am I. We are both getting older, and your training has been complete for some time. You are an Elder in our tradition, and the Father of these woods now. I am the Sage. Together, we will find and train a new initiate, a Youth, to be a servant to this land, and to us as well. Surely you remember two decades ago, the training Sage Thaddeus and I gave you, my lad. I remember then. You were still reluctant to accept your place in life, and that you belonged here." At this, he tightened his grip on Arthur's shoulders. 

Feeling the pressure intensifying, Arthur's eyes opened, and he looked up at Silas. Smiling, he leaned towards the older man. 

Silas moved his hands from Arthur's shoulders to his chest. Rubbing his hands over the shirt, he found Arthur's nipples starting to poke through. Deftly, as he had a thousand times before, he took his thumb and forefinger to each of the younger man's tits and gripped on. Slowly, but steadily, the pressure built. Arthur did not look away, but could feel the pain spreading as Silas tightened his hold on his chest. No, he thought, don't cry out. He is your Sage, but make him work for it. Smiling, then grimacing, then groaning through gritted teeth, Arthur could not hold it in any more. Opening his mouth to release some of the pain he was enduring, a deep guttural roar filled the room. But only for a moment.

Silas leaned in and stuck his tongue down Arthur's throat as he continued the nipple torture. Arthur's resistance melted away. Silas's tongue was so soft, so strong, so aggressive, as it always was. Giving in to the urge, he returned the kiss and embraced his Sage. Silas, knowing that he had once again conquered Arthur, released his tits immediately. That sent a rush of sensations back to the younger bear in full force. Reaching his arms behind his lover, Silas held Arthur firmly by the back of the neck and around the waist. They embraced, kissed, and held each other close. After a long while, Silas broke the kiss and spoke.

"Prepare the dungeon, my lad... And prepare yourself. You are being called upon to serve, and to train and teach as well. YOUR time as an Elder has begun." 

The younger man smiled, memories of his own sessions in the stone basement of their home coming back to him. Silas smiled, remembering his protégés first, intense steps on the Ordeal Path as well. The idea of putting a younger man through the same tasks they themselves had endured long ago was starting to sound appealing, and excited both men. Looking at his lover and high priest, Arthur replied, "As you wish, Sage Silas. But where and how will we find a new Youth to take in? Even then, how would we get him to accept the Ordeal Path?" 

Satisfied that Arthur had accepted the duty that lay before them, Silas took his hands and clasped his own around them. "I will begin the work of summoning our apprentice using the methods of our forbearers. Let us ready this space and light the beacon. The flame will draw him here, as it did with all of us many years ago." Silas kissed Arthur, and they both turned back to the window, watching the sunset beyond the trees as it turned the falling snow a soft shade of gold.