Note: This is a gay themed novel about kings and magic, love and war. Although I will often allude to sexual encounters, there are no actual scenes of sexual acts for this is, by and large, a love story. This author claims exclusive copyright to all characters, plots, and settings.
Dark Wishes
M.C. Gordon
Part Three: Fanna
Chapter Four
Trelaine rode his war-horse into the melee around him. The blade of his sword sang through the air as he raised and lowered it. It clanged against shields and brought a sickening sound to his ears as it hewed the body of yet another man. He hated war. That he was exceptionally good at taking lives in battle did nothing to ease his hatred.
He had fought the warlords and petty chieftains in the rugged lands on his southern border throughout his reign in Elanen. They would accept defeat, sign a treaty of peace, and slip away into their mountainous strongholds for a decade or two, only to threaten his kingdom again and again.
The battle slowly drew to an end with a few living enemy warriors retreating back across the river boundary. Trelaine guided his steed to the river's edge and called out, "Will you discuss terms of surrender?" as he had done after each battle for the past three days. He received no answer.
He wheeled the huge horse about and galloped back to his encampment. "Brush him down," he growled, tossing the reins to a waiting warrior. "See that he does not take a chill!"
In his tent his aide took his blood soaked woolen cloak and assisted in removing the blood-spattered armor, tunic, and breeches. The aid, Carip by name, left for his own tent to tend the King's clothing as Dilby, the body servant arrived.
Dilby chattered aimlessly about the bad turn to the weather as he assisted the King into a warm bath and scrubbed away the sweat and grime of the battle. "There be some w'at says this be a bad one, M'Lord," he prattled. "Be sayin' this is a hundred year winter, an' a bad storm movin' in. I feels it in me bones, I do. The bunion on the sixth toe of me right foot be hurtin' fierce, it be." He knew from his years of service that his voice would help soothe the sour mood of his king.
"Me blest mother, rest `er soul, could always tell by me sixth toe if a storm be'd comin'. T' village folk always took stock of w'at she said. The to be'd swolled afore I put my boot on. Care to see?"
The minor deformity that he bore was one of the few things in his life that set him truly apart from others and he used it as a badge of pride.
"Trelaine could not help but chuckle at his servant. Dilby had been a good and faithful servant for many years and the king could relax in his company. He had seen the short stub that could be considered a toe many times and knew the pain it caused. He did not want Dilby to have to remove and then replace the boot, a difficult process that often brought tears to the man's eyes, and shook his head.
"I believe you and your toe, Dilby. No need to expose it to the cold. If the toe says a storm approaches, then I shall not question."
Trelaine had not been able to rid himself of a certain feline since the night two years earlier when she had slipped into his room. He had given her to Cook' she reappeared on his bed. He sent her to one of the dairy farms where she would have bowls of milk to drink and fat mice to catch; she returned to him. He had sent her to the farthest reaches of his kingdom; she always found her way back. "She be magical," Dilby had told him.
"It had taken Trelaine several months to realize that the letters he received from King Artilan kept him abreast of Fanna's progress while he felt the full impact of the lad's emotions when the cat was around. She was, apparently, something he had summoned when he had made a simple wish.
"Yes, Trelaine finally said." "A storm is coming and I am tired of this endless war. I am sick in my soul for the innocent men who die. I have lost many good men and do not desire to lose more. The petty, greedy fools across the river care not for their men or their animals to wage war against Elanen in winter.
Fetch me warm clothing," he said rising from his bath. "It is time to put an end to this once and for all."
The storm was moving in rapidly from the west. Snow fell so thickly that it was becoming hard to see.
Freezing rain fell like daggers in the snow. Thunder roared in the distance. The breath of man and beast appeared in short quick puffs, so painful was it becoming to breathe.
The warriors in his encampment huddled around their fires and watched as Trelaine strode through them and down to the river's edge. It was already frozen. The High King threw his heavy cloak back and stood with his feet braced firmly apart. Placing his hands on hips he called out, "I give y ou one last chance! Surrender or die!"
There was no response.
Trelaine took in a deep breath of the cold air. He held it for a few seconds before blowing outward across the river, releasing but a portion of the magic that was himself and the fury that was Miralen.
His men, most of whom had never seen their liege lord work his magic, stared in wonder. Across the river, everything began to freeze. Warriors and animals alike were slowly encased in ice. The trees became so heavily laden with ice and snow that they snapped and fell crashing to the earth.
Trelaine slowly raised his arms and the clouds in the sky began to take shape and form. They turned from blue, to white, to red. And the shape they took was that of dragons of myth. Two of the huge, writhing beasts formed and slowly made their way from the heights of heaven to the land across the river. They twisted and hissed, their forked tongues flicking outward, tasting the air and the ice. They suddenly let loose their fiery breath and the warlords and petty chieftains were no more.
It ended as quickly as it had begun. The skies cleared and Trelaine's men stared in shock. The trees were no longer broken. Horses, birds, and woodland creatures moved about. Men checked themselves and their comrades, surprised that they were living. All that remained of the storm and the magic were puddles of molten ice.
Exhausted, spent almost beyond belief, Trelaine managed to sign a peace treaty with those chosen by the survivors to be their new leaders. He had struck such terror into their hearts and minds that he had no fear of further trouble from them for many years to come.
Dilby helped the worn king to his small cot, checked to be sure there were sufficient candles burning in the tent, and went to his own pallet.
Trelaine had enough strength remaining to cast his magic out across his encampment and that across the river, to give protection and peaceful rest to the warriors.
He woke with a start, a familiar touch on his mind that spread through his body. He felt warm lips touch, gentle hands caress, bodies and souls give and receive. The cat lay curled against him, purring softly.
Chapter Five
Winter set its heavy hand across the ten kingdoms with cold so bitter that the rivers froze. Days of endless snow and blowing winds saw the roads and passages through the mountains closed. Herdsmen brought their animals from the fields into shelters where fires could be carefully tended. Woodland creatures sought refuge in caves or burrows. Men, unable to go about their work, were shuttered in their homes with fretting children and harried wives.
And an illness settled across the land. It manifested itself in burning fevers followed by freezing chills. Muscles ached; stomachs revolted against food. Breathing became an exercise in agony. The master healers busied themselves in caring for the sick while archivists searched ancient scrolls for any mention of a previous outbreak of the illness.
Then the deaths began.
Trelaine fumed through his castle sending all in his path scurrying away. Anger came seldom to him and while his people loved him and had no fear of him, they were cautious in his presence. They knew that his anger was because he could do nothing to stop the illness or the deaths. There are some things that even magic cannot accomplish and Trelaine felt helpless in the face of this unseen enemy.
Weeks passed and still the snows continued. Snowdrifts formed against houses and barns. Trelaine lent his master healer one of the massive war-horses for his visits to the ill. Then the snow became so deep that it reached the chest of the massive steed and travel became impossible. Correspondence between Elanen and Endril stopped.
Trelaine was drowsing by the fireplace in his drafty apartment one evening when a feeling hit him - one of strong, intense emotion. Puzzled because he felt only Fanna's joy or passion, he let this odd feeling pass through him. There was no joy this time.
This was sickening fear and heartbreak. Trelaine sensed images of illness; could hear the chest-rattling cough he now recognized as preceding death.
"Dilby!" he shouted as he rose from his chair, "I need you!"
Dilby was instantly at his King's side. "Yes, M'lord?"
"Fetch my warmest cloak. I must go to Endril. The illness is within the castle walls."
"Ye'll never get there," Dilby responded. "The passes all be closed by snow an' ice."
"I intend to wish myself there," the King said.
"M'lord! Ye never wishes!"
"This time I must, old friend. There is death in Endril and I must be with the boy. I cannot stop death but I will try to ease its pain."
The guards were surprised when the High King appeared outside the door to Grislen's apartments but admitted him without question. The scene inside was one now familiar to Trelaine. A small cot sat near the fireplace, an ailing lad lying uneasily upon it. The smell of medicinal herbs simmering in pots filled the air.
Trelaine crossed to the fireplace and stood looking down at the dying boy. Another lad sat on the edge of the cot, wiping his lover's brow. Noticing Trelaine standing there he looked up and said, "Your Majesty. I had hoped that you would come. Can you help him?" The bottom lip quivered and unshed tears caused his eyes to glisten in the firelight.
"I can help him, Fanna, but not as you would desire. I cannot prevent his death. I can only ease his breathing and take away his pain." Trelaine reached down and took the hand Fanna was not holding and placed a gentle kiss on the fevered brow.
Sigil's breathing became more even and his body relaxed as the pain subsided. He briefly opened his eyes and, with the little strength he had, tried to squeeze Fanna's hand. And he was gone.
Fanna's cry echoed through the castle. He flung himself across the emaciated body of his love, clinging to the lifeless hand, and cried.
Hours later they sat in the King's apartment: Trelaine, Artilan, Grislen, and Fanna. The boy's grief was so great, and his vigil with his dying lover had lasted so long, that he succumbed to exhaustion. That Trelaine had aided by willing him to sleep, Fanna was unaware. The master healer had given Grislen's wife and daughters a potion to help them sleep. The three men had no such surcease.
"What plans have you for Fanna?" Grislen asked Trelaine. "He has become dear to all of us."
"His future is his to decide," Trelaine replied. "I will ask him to return to Aolane. I would not have asked it of him while Sigil was alive, but the memories here will be painful for him. I know for I am haunted still by the memories of your kinsman. If he wishes to remain here, then I will hand his allegiance to you, Artilan, and he will become your countryman instead of mine.
For now, I will remain here until Sigil is laid to rest. Beyond that, it depends on Fanna's decision.
Should he decide to stay they I will immediately return to Aolane. If he will go with me, we must remain here until the mountain passes are safe. I cannot wish him there as I can myself. Whether I am here or in Aolane, I can act as a conduit for the healers. They cannot meet to pool their knowledge of this illness so I will touch their minds and serve as a courier between them. Too many are sick and dying."
"I will have the servants prepare a room for you," Artilan said. "You need to rest."
"A blanket by this fireplace will suit me," Trelaine replied. "And I will keep Fanna near me. I know his suffering for I have felt it tenfold. I will see that he sleeps through the night so that he might have the strength he will need for what he must face."
"You love him," Artilan said.
"Since the day I decided to send him to you," was Trelaine's whispered response.
Chapter Six
Fanna had been devastated at the loss of Sigil and Trelaine understood how the boy felt. He had brought him home to Aolane and set him to work with the master archivist, seeking out any reference in the ancient scrolls to the illness that was decimating the population of several kingdoms. Fanna had taken to the work with eagerness. It filled his mind for many hours of the day, and he was good enough at heart to want to save others from the fate of his lover.
The illness began to ease as fewer succumbed each day. The master healers and archivists failed in their quest and it merely ran its course. But they learned one frightening fact. The ancient scrolls were in sad disrepair, in some places even lost, having been nibbled at by mice through the centuries.
Fanna was so distressed over their condition that he had gone to the High King with a suggestion. Within a month, all of the scrolls over fifty years of age in Elanen were in Aolane and Fanna was in charge of a legion of apprentices. One by one, over time, the scrolls were meticulously copied and sealed in protective coverings.
One bright spring day the master archivist missed his footing on a staircase and broke his neck in the fall. Trelaine summoned Fanna to him.
"How long have you been back in Aolane?" he queried.
"Two years."
"Do you like working in the archives?" the King asked.
"Yes, My Lord," Fanna replied.
"I need a new master for the archives. I want you to accept the position."
"Me? Sire, I do not think I have the age or experience."
"You have the desire and the inspiration, boy, but the decision is yours to make."
Fanna thought for a few moments then raised his eyes to his King. "I will do as you ask of me, Lord," he said.
Trelaine was saddened by the resignation and loss of the saucy attitude the lad had shown only four years earlier. "Are you sorry that you returned here, Fanna?"
"Oh, no, My Lord," Fanna was quick to reply. "I do not think that I would have lived had I stayed in Endril. I would have seen Sigil everywhere."
"I understand the loss of a beloved," Trelaine said. "Go now. Sleep. Tomorrow will see the beginning of your new duties."
Fanna bowed slightly, turned, and left the room.
Fanna had his own small apartment on the same floor as the King's massive quarters in the castle. Trelaine had ordered that he have privacy when he brought the boy back from Endril. Still resisting his love for the young man, he saw that Fanna's personal staff consisted of men who would not be averse to offering him comfort and pleasure. But in the two years that passed, Fanna had not taken any as a lover.
Accustomed to a nightly round of the castle, Trelaine set out with Dilby at his side. The sun was just beginning its journey to the western skies. Trelaine lingered for a few moments in the garden.
"What must I do, beloved?" he asked as he stood by the grave of one he had loved so well. And he heard the answer.
Sighing deeply, he turned and entered the castle with Dilby following quietly. As he passed by the door to Fanna's apartment he stopped and reached out with his mind, just a little. And he felt and heard heartache. He knocked on the door and allowed time for the youth to gain composure before he opened the door.
"Fanna," he said to the lad who was wiping tears from his eyes, "I know your suffering. But there will come a day when the pain will ease. You will always love Sigil, but you must allow yourself to love again.
"You did not, Majesty," the boy replied.
"But I did, and I do," Trelaine said as he crossed the room and took Fanna into his arms and kissed him.
. . .
Fanna knew that as long as he lived he would never forget the memory of the night that the King confessed love for him. The kiss had been long and sweet before Trelaine picked him up in his arms and carried him to the royal apartments.
Trelaine had not pushed or demanded love from Fanna. He had held him close and said, "You still miss him."
"Yes," Fanna replied, tears glistening in his eyes. "I sometimes wish I could forget Sigil for it causes me great pain."
Trelaine touched one finger to Fanna's lips. "Never make such a wish. Keep the memory of that love within your heart. I can remember two loves: Karandal, of whom you have heard, and Xoachin who was part of another life, in the time before your grandfather's great-grandfather was born. I hold their love close to me. You may love again one day and Sigil would grant you freedom for that love.
The fault is mine that you now suffer so. I thought it best to let you work through your sorrow, but I see that I was wrong. I should have offered you more comfort and understanding."
He led Fanna to the bed and sat him down. "Sleep beside me tonight. Let me ease the burden of your sorrow."
Trelaine lay on the bed and Fanna eased close to him. The High King opened his arms and Fanna went willingly into them. Wrapping his arms about the neck of his lord, Fanna let loose his tears and poured out his heartache.
Trelaine held him through the night and, toward the early morning hours, Fanna finally slept. When Dilby entered to light fresh candles, Trelaine signaled to him and they removed Fanna's tunic and breeches. Trelaine eased a coverlet over the lad and sat silent vigil over him until the early morning sun sent tendrils of light through the windows.
With business to conduct, Trelaine sent for Fanna's body servant, Evander, and set him the task of watching over the sleeping lad. "Send word to me if he wakens he said. "Tell my guards and they will send a page to summon me."
There was no summons as Trelaine held court and heard minor grievances throughout the day. The problems were easy to settle, usually caused by petty jealousies. Trelaine never rendered a decision to such petitions. It had become his custom to simply allow himself to begin to glow with his white fire and the petitioners would agree to discuss their differences and find an agreeable solution. He never showed anger, only that who should receive the black lamb and who the white was something that could be decided without his intervention.
Serious accusations, such as murder or rape, were heard before his entire council with no others present but the accused, the accuser, and witnesses. Few such crimes were committed within the kingdom for, once proven guilty, Trelaine was swift and terrible in his justice. With a kind yet stern hand to lead them, the people of Elanen were reluctant to commit a heinous crime. It was said that just before death, the King would look into a criminal's eyes and fill the soul with the misery that had been caused.
Fanna was sleeping when Trelaine returned to his apartment at the end of the day. The King looked at Evander and asked, "Anything?"
"No, Majesty," Evander replied. "He slept peacefully."
"Very well," the King said. "Go and fetch clean clothing for when he wakens. Stay close at hand for he will need to bathe and eat."
Fanna slept the rest of the day and through the night. When he woke he was momentarily unsure of his surroundings. Slowly his mind registered that he was in the King's apartment, the King's bed, and that the King was lying next to him. Moving carefully so as to not waken Trelaine, Fanna eased out of the bed and went to the water closet to relieve himself. Trelain was awake and waiting for him when he returned.
"You may continue to sleep here unless it displeases you," the King said. "I will offer you but my own sorrow to comfort yours, the warmth of my nearness should you be chilled, and my arms to hold you if it will help ease your heartache. I will not ask you to share my bed in any other way, Fanna, for I have never asked it of anyone."
Fanna looked across the room at his King. "I have been remiss in my duties, My Lord. I beg pardon for my weakness and will return to the archives which you have left under my hand."
"As you choose," Trelaine responded. "Evander should be waiting to bring your bath and food. Clean clothing is near the fireplace. I will go and fetch myself a bite to eat in the kitchen. I have a mare near her birthing time and promised that I would tend her." To be continued.
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