Note: This is a gay themed fantasy novel about kings and magic, love and war. Although I will often allude to sexual encounters, there are no scenes of sexual acts for this is, by and large, a love story. This author claims exclusive copyright to the characters, settings, and plot.
Dark Wishes
M.C. Gordon
Part Four: Devlin
Chapter 13
Two more years passed quickly, for Devlin and his friends grew ever more immersed in their studies. The master archivist despaired that Devlin would ever choose a final field of study. To hasten a decision, he set Devlin to work with Dulva or Kuyo, and sometimes both, hoping to spark his imagination.
Devlin had other friends, with some of whom he spent time exploring awakened sexual awareness. After a lengthy lecture from both the master healer and Frit he agreed to use the bothersome fish bladders at each encounter. And in time, he became accustomed to the use until it no longer bothered him.
At the end of his third year of study he received a message from his father:
`I was taken last winter with a chill in my lungs which left me weak for some while. It was not serious enough to inform you at the time. I write now to let you know that I have regained my health and do well. Your last missive arrived late, the mountain passages being closed due to snow. All here send their wishes and regards as I am sure you will hear from Mut who delivers both this message to you and the pony to King Trelaine.'
Unaware of life in Aolane, Brunel could not know that the message would go from Mut to a page who would deliver it to Devlin. As would the pony go from Mut to the horsemaster who would inform the King of a new arrival. Devlin carefully rolled the miniscule scroll and laid it on his pallet. As swiftly as his feet could carry him he was down the stairs, out of the castle proper, and running to the paddocks.
"Mut!" he cried out when he saw his uncle, "how are you? How is my father?"
Brunel's youngest brother was hard pressed to remain on his feet when Devlin's body impacted his. He gave his nephew a hug in return. "Brunel is well as ever," he said. "Takes more'n lung chills to bring him to his knees. Healer from Blanau Ffestein said he was recovered and stronger than ever he was before."
"What did Da mean when he said you brought a pony?" Devlin asked.
"Aye, and a fine pony he is. Brunel thought the time right to show His Majesty one of the Appizzi. Thought the King might know of a market for the breed, if Horsemaster decides it be a new breed, that is."
Mut told Devlin all he could of happenings in Caern Arvis as they walked to the stall where the horse master and king were both examining the Appy very closely.
"Is this the breed you spoke of?" Trelaine asked when he realized Devlin had joined them.
"Yes, Sire," Devlin replied. "The Lippizi Lord Fanna gave as a bride gift lacked ability to get about in high mountain ranges. The Appalo were more rugged and had the thick coats required for survival in harsh winters. Rangel decided to cross the two."
"An excellent decision," the horse master said. "This is a beautiful breed. Are they all spotted?"
"All save one. Each generation has one black stallion," Mut answered. "This one's sire is Bindle, a stallion Devlin raised himself."
Devlin's delight was written on his face and he took a keener interest in the colt.
. . .
Summer approached and the archives were closing until fields could be tended and the harvest brought in for many of the students were from farming communities. Likewise, those whose families tended herds were expected at home until all of the newborns could be located in the vast open ranges and hills that comprised most of Elanen.
Devlin was accustomed to spending the long summers with Sondred and Belen. He hoped to spend this year another way and had convinced the master archivist to provide him a reason. When he was convinced that all was in order, he requested an audience with Trelaine.
"You wanted to see me?" the High King asked when Devlin was escorted to his private apartment in the castle.
"Yes, Sire," Devlin answered. "I have a request to make of you."
Trelaine would have granted anything to the young man who had captured his fancy. From awkward teenager to sturdy and self assured twenty-year old, Devlin was maturing nicely. The king was aware that Devlin had also matured sexually and knew of his activities with his friends. Indeed, in wanting the sometimes shy lad to find his first taste of physical pleasure a special experience, he had suggested Gelemar encourage Devlin to take an interest in Frit. Resigned to the fact that the boy would never show an interest in himself, Trelaine decided to show his love in other ways ... such as granting almost anything he desired.
"What is your request?" the king asked.
"I would like to spend the summer in Caern Arvis," Devlin said. "I wish to see my family. And Master Gueron has assigned Pistach the task of sketching things he has never seen before to challenge his abilities."
"Devlin," Trelaine answered, "you need not seek my permission to leave or stay. You are of age now and no longer have a guardian. Take as many of your friends as you wish; but not so many that it will overwhelm your father's household."
"Thank you, Majesty," Devlin replied and kissed his king's hand to show his gratitude.
A great, unbidden shudder ran through Trelaine and he shoved his desire to the back of his mind.
. . .
A merry band set off for Caern Arvis three weeks later. King Trelaine had decided to join Devlin and Pistach on their journey, claiming that he wished to see more of the unique horses bred by Devlin's family.
Sondred, Devlin's first and closest friend, was joining them as a member of the royal guard. Gelemar would also be traveling with them, Frit more deeply involved in his study than ever as he was to stand before the Masters for his official recognition as a complete Healer.
A new addition had been made to the royal guard mere months earlier. Shanklen, once a royal page, had proven extremely adept at his training to become a warrior and earned his newest position through competition. He was the youngest to ever join the royal guard at five and twenty years of age. Middle son of a master weaver, there was neither property nor fortune for him to inherit. His two eldest brothers had been apprenticed as weavers, his two youngest to the horse master. His father had great hopes for his future and had sent him to the castle for apprenticeship and occupation. Tall and well featured with sandy blonde hair, which was constantly falling in his face, and brilliant blue eyes, Shanklen had already left a trail of broken hearts across Elanen. Trelaine had given him a firm lecture prior to the beginning of their journey, fearful that Shanklen would set his predatory gaze on Devlin as an object of conquest.
Chapter 14
Dermont shook his head in dismay as he watched the moonlight play across Trelaine's face the second evening of their journey. His king was downhearted and Dermont knew the reason. As Captain of the Royal Guard he had assigned Shanklen enough duties on the trail to grant him little free time. Dermont assumed that the young guard would drop each night, too exhausted to dally with anyone. Yet he still managed to spend every minute of his free time with Devlin and Pistach. And Trelaine was very aware of Shanklen's actions.
Dermont called the young guard to him and demanded an explanation after threatening to have him mustered out in disgrace. Shanklen, caught completely by surprise, stuttered an explanation which left Dermont's jaw agape. Finally, after hours of agonizing over his decision, Dermont asked Sondred and Gelemar to join him in a private conversation.
"Our king is besotted by this youth, Devlin," he told them. "I have advised him against losing his heart to this lad but he will not pay heed. It falls to us to intervene. This is my suggested plan ..."
Sondred and Gelemar were both amazed at the depths of Dermont's deceptiveness. They glanced at each other and began to laugh.
"I believe this plan of yours will work, but only if we are very careful," Gelemar said. "Our King can detect untruths so we much guard our minds closely."
"He has no reason to suspect us of anything untoward," Sondred replied. The three friends set about their separate tasks.
. . .
Dermont eased the duties he had set for Shanklen allowing the young man to spend more time with Devlin and Pistach, an action not unnoticed by Trelaine.
"He will break the boy's heart," the King told his Captain.
"He is determined, Sire," Dermont replied. "So strong is Shanklen's desire that even threatening to discharge him from your service will not deter him. Perhaps if he had a competitor he would reconsider, but none stand in his way."
Trelaine could not find fault with Dermont or Shanklen for the captain spoke the truth.
"Was it difficult for you to win Frit?" he asked Gelemar that evening as they shared their meal around the campfire with Dermont and Sondred.
"Not at all, Majesty," Gelemar replied. "I asked him to join me for a walk on the evening of his eighteenth birthday and he agreed." A wistful smile crossed his face as he remembered the blossoming of their love. A chuckle followed. "Frit had set his cap for me when he was but sixteen. I was assigned to the horse master at the time and Frit was a journeyman. Although we spent much time together, he managed to hide his intentions. At least I never sensed anything. He later explained to me that every word he said and movement he made was designed to capture my attention and desire."
"It helped that everyone else knew he would have you alone," Sondred remarked. "You had no competition to face. Any who might have shown an interest in him could sense his focused determination."
Gelemar stared at his brother in shock. "Everyone knew but I?" he asked.
"You were blinded by your own love for him," Sondred said. "I knew because he confided in me."
"In you?" Gelemar asked, stunned.
"Of course," Sondred replied. "Who better to know the intimate details of your likes and dislikes than your younger brother. Remember, Frit and I were housed together at the archive."
"In fact," Trelaine added, enjoying his friend's sudden loss of composure, "it was Sondred who suggested I assign you to Master Tasken when Frit was learning to tend the horses."
"So it was a conspiracy," Gelemar finally said.
"Indeed," Trelaine remarked, touching Gelemar's shoulder. "And a successful one, for the two of you have been together now for thirteen years."
. . .
"Brilliant," Dermont laughed as he and Sondred walked back to the rest of the guard. "Throwing Gelemar into a state of confusion reminded our sovereign that he was once part of a conspiracy of love himself."
"His Majesty opened the way when he questioned Gelemar about the courtship," Sondred replied. "Frit had been my friend from the day he was brought to Aolane with the rest of his village. I wanted him to find true love and felt assured that he was perfect for my brother."
"I am beginning to believe that you formed a conspiracy of one," Dermont said to the man who would, in all probability, replace him one day as Trelaine's captain."
Chapter Fifteen
Their journey the following day was to be half-day only. The band of travelers had camped near a small lake of which Trelaine was extremely fond. Nearly circular in shape, the edges of the lake were lined with thick foliage which attracted small butterflies. Unlike their larger cousins which had so fascinated Devlin three years earlier, these were barely the size of the end knuckle of a small boy's finger and of more subdued colors.
The lake was also home to several different species of fishes and Trelaine bade all rise early to acquire enough fish to provide their noon meal. As they broke into groups to seek the best places to find fish, Shanklen called Devlin to one side.
"Tell Pistach that you wish to fish with me by yourself," he said.
Devlin's right eyebrow raised itself. "Why?" he asked.
"Because I wish to spend time alone with you," Shanklen replied.
Devlin looked at the young guard. Although he was handsome, quick of wit, and very desirable Devlin had no interest in him beyond friendship.
"Please," Shanklen entreated.
"I do not think that wise," Devlin finally responded. "I know your reputation and have no intention of becoming another trophy for you."
Shanklen passed his right hand through his shaggy hair, attempting to pull it back from his forehead. "You are not in danger," he replied. "It is not you who interests me."
Devlin was momentarily taken aback. "They why do you wish to be alone with me?" he asked cautiously.
"Because I wish to attract Pistach's attention," Shanklen answered.
Devlin stared. "Pistach?" he asked. "You are questing after Pistach?" He backed up a few feet and looked Shanklen directly in the eyes. "And do you think I will stand idly by whilst you seduce and then shatter one of my closest friends?"
"That is one of the reasons I wish to spend time alone with you," Shanklen answered. "I am not nearly so bad as my reputation and need things to be clear between us. I know that you will not countenance anyone harming one of your friends. Please?"
"Very well," Devlin finally relented. "But I will not tell Pistach that I wish to fish only with you. I will enlist Gelemar's aid."
Devlin left Shanklen standing near one of the pack horses and set off to find his one-time guardian.
"I will ask young Pistach to fish with myself and Sondred," Gelemar agreed when Devlin told him that he would be fishing with Shanklen. "Do you really want to be alone with Shanklen? Have you fallen prey to his charms?"
"He would do better to try charming a snake than myself," Devlin responded. "He is a good warrior, loyal to the King, and I count him among my friends. But I am not about to drop my breeches at his bidding.
He wishes to speak with me of Pistach who, apparently, has caught his interest. He believes that if we two are alone together Pistach will become jealous and desire him. He also wishes to clear the matter of his reputation."
Gelemar looked solemnly at the lad. "And you believe he will not cause your young friend to suffer?"
"For some reason," Devlin replied, "I think he believes me able to make his life one of misery should he bring harm to Pistach's gentle heart."
Gelemar could not argue that point for he well knew that if Shanklen caused Pistach any heartache the King, of his love for Devlin, would parcel out fit retribution.
So it was that Trelaine found Pistach joining the older men. "Good morn', Pistach," he said, sending the lad into blushes at having been recognized by his king.
Pistach had been a student at the archives from the time he was eight years of age but considered himself insignificant and unknown to all save a small circle of friends and fellow students. That the High King knew his name came as a shock to him.
"Thank you, Your Majesty," he replied, "for allowing us this opportunity."
Trelaine reached out and ruffled the chestnut brown hair with his right hand. "I thought you would be with Devlin and Shanklen," he said.
"I would be, but Sondred and Gelemar requested I join them instead," the boy replied.
"Indeed," Trelaine remarked, one dark eyebrow arched as he looked at the two brothers.
"I have a request for Pistach which I have not yet had the opportunity to make," Sondred quickly replied, for he knew the lad would eventually wonder why he had been asked to join them. Turning to face Pistach he asked, "Would you consider a commission to sketch a portrait of my wife and children?" It was a reasonable idea and Sondred saw his brother nod his head in approval.
"I do not believe the Master Archivist will allow me to accept a commission," Pistach responded, "for I have not yet been licensed by the craft, but I would be pleased to give you a portrait as a gift."
Trelaine congratulated Pistach and went to see how the rest of the guard were doing, all the while knowing that two of his friends had seen to it that the one he loved was alone with a rival.
One conspiracy wrapped itself around another, entangled like the vines that grew along the trunks of the great oak trees until they crossed from canopy to canopy.
Devlin and Shanklen managed to provide their share of fish for the noon meal but they had not concentrated on fishing. They had a long and thoughtful conversation about things in general, and Pistach in particular.
"I do not know if I love him," Shanklen had frankly remarked in answer to a question from Devlin. "I know that I want to be with him all the time, protect him, provide for him. I wish to keep him safe from the harshness of life, surrounded by nothing but beauty and peace."
"And others?" Devlin prodded, "would you continue to pursue others?"
"Perhaps," came the honest answer. "Gelemar loves Frit with all his being but still turns to one of his friends on occasion for physical pleasure. I will not lie and tell you that I would never look upon another man with desire. I can only tell you that I would defend to my last breath against any man who threatened Pistach, whether he is with myself or another. Surely you can understand that since King Trelaine feels the same toward you."
Devlin dropped his fishing line. "Surely you jest," he said. "The King cannot possibly favor me. He never seeks me out for companionship or conversation. Not once has he indicated that he cares for me more than any other citizen of Elanen."
"He clings relentlessly to that part of himself which was Miralen, vowing to never use his title or magic to entice one to love him. The problem is that there were no rivals for his love for Karandal or Fanna. He did not consider Sigil a rival for Fanna's love since he had sent Fanna away himself, denying the love he felt for him. He now lives in misery because you have not fallen desperately in love with him and sought to gain his attention."
"I would not, and will not, pursue him," Devlin replied. "I have not even been able to decide on my mastery at the archives; how can I turn my thoughts to love, especially with the High King?"
"Would you object if he pursued you?" Shanklen asked.
"I do not know," Devlin replied and finally said, "I do not think I would object, but only because it will never happen."
Shanklen threw his head back and laughed. "Then we will set ourselves two goals: one to make Pistach amenable to my courtship, the other to make our Lord realize that to have you he will have to do something about it himself."
. . .
The King was in no great hurry for the summer months were just beginning and the kingdom was at peace. The one week journey to Caern Arvis seemed likely to last at least two.
Devlin spent a great deal of time with Pistach over the ensuing days for Shanklen had his duties to tend to. Dermont had given the young guard the honor of carrying the Guard's guidon, a simple forked flag of yellow. Senior members of the guard took turns with the great Phoenix rising pennant of the Qell Lord.
As they rode each day on the young Lippizi provided by their king, Devlin recounted Shanklen's many great qualities and worthiness as a mate. Each evening he requested Pistach join him as he sat and talked with Shanklen, partly because it was necessary for his and Shanklen's plan to work and partly because he truly enjoyed his friend's company.
Two evenings from Caerin Arvis at their present rate of travel, Pistach joined Sondred and Gelemar to ask about the portrait Sondred had requested of him. He had never seen Lady Belen or the twins, Hyptia and Mahon, and was curious about them. When Sondred had waxed poetic about his wife and children, the center of his life, and Pistach thought he could visualize them, he headed back toward that section of the night camp he shared with Devlin.
He stopped at the sound of whispered words and the sight of Devlin going into Shanklen's arms to receive a kiss. The kiss was brief and he heard a resounding `smack' as they drew apart. It was enough.
He had been enamored of Shanklen for years and harbored a hope that he might one day see that love returned. Turning, he stumbled off blindly into the darkness.
"Did you hear something?" Devlin asked, pulling away from the embrace. Their plan seemed to be working for both Pistach and Trelaine were showing definite signs of increased interest. The embrace and kiss had been one of friendship and joy that one or the other should soon be locked in the arms of a lover.
A muffled sob and the sound of twigs breaking caught Shanklen's ear. "Pistach," he whispered to Devlin. "It has gone too far. I must find him."
. . .
Dashing madly through the dark, blinded by his tears, Pistach ran until he felt himself collide against something strong and fast. He thought he had hit a tree until two hands steadied him by the shoulders, lest he fall, and he found himself looking up into the face of the High King.
"What troubles you so?" Trelaine asked, kneeling down for he towered over the small lad.
"I am so skinny and ugly," Pistach managed to say between sobs. "He will never love me, no one will." The tears poured down his face and Trelaine took the boy in his arms and held him.
"You are not ugly at all," he said. "You have beautiful green eyes and a firm jaw. There is nothing about you that is not pleasing." He was at a loss to comfort the lad, whose heart had apparently just been ripped asunder.
"My nose is too large and I look like twigs thrown together," Pistach replied.
"You look like all that is best and good in this world or any other," a voice said.
Shanklen emerged from the shadows of the trees into the opening where the moonlight shown down on Pistach and Trelaine. Barely glancing at his liege lord, he took the lad from the king's arms into his own. Cupping Pistach's face in his hands and wiping the tears away with his thumbs he said, "I love you. I know I will need to prove that and when I have then I will bow before the High King and beg him acknowledge that we are life-mates."
"But I saw you kiss Devlin," Pistach managed between tears.
"We are friends and were sharing a moment of joy.
Devlin has never been my intention, nor I his. There is only one whom I desire, and that is you."
The kiss Pistach received was not hurried as was the one with Devlin. It was long and slow, sensuous and loving. It gave far more than it received, for it was a promise of giving. Forgotten and ignored, Trelaine walked away and turned at the edge of the clearing to see Shanklen's hands caressing Pistach's slight frame, running across his shoulders and down his arms, drawing the lad closer to his own body.
Trelaine withdrew and left the new lovers alone.
To be continued.
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