This is a work of fiction, of magic and kings, love and war. It's the sequel to Dark Wishes', previously copyrighted under Nifty and the unopened copy of that manuscript in my desk drawer now recognized by the U.S. Postal Service and International Common Law. Dark Wishes' took three years to write and edit. Bear with me now as this story hasn't been edited at all and I'm posting it as it's written.
Unspoken Wishes
M.C. Gordon
Part One: Markel
Chapter Three
Tynan and Markel traveled by foot for three weeks past ruined fields and forests, stopping for shelter from the weather in caves or the rubble of what had once been a castle or other building made of stone. The Qell longed for a meal of cooked meat and vegetables, tiring of the constant grain porridge Markel prepared each evening. But they had seen few animals and Tynan dared not risk reducing the wildlife population until a proper accounting could be made of any of the once domestic beasts of man.
"Is it the approach of winter which causes the fields to be barren?" he asked his companion one evening after another bowl of damnable mush.
"The grandmothers believe that the people finally had to eat the seed corn," Markel answered. "The crops have been smaller each year and starvation is a constant worry."
"Then I must ascertain where any seed may still exist for planting next spring. The people of Elanen must have food."
Day after dreary day they traveled, running across barren land, the Qell Lord's long black hair flying loose around him. They saw few people and the lord of magic felt despair deep within his heart. All that those before him had accomplished had come to naught.
Near the end of the fourth week Tynan suddenly stopped and held out his hand to signal Markel to do the same. He faced into the wind and sensed something important beyond the next rise. Dropping close to the ground, he crept silently to the top of the rise. In the valley below was a wild herd of magnificent horses.
Markel gasped when he saw the animals, unable to believe their beauty and majesty. Breath streamed from their nostrils in the cold air. Shaggy winter coats covered their bodies. Massive hooves pawed the ground, kicking up tufts of earth. These were the descendents of the war-horses of old. The wind shifted and the stallion, blacker than ever any night could ever be, raised his head and sniffed the air, for giant cats had made their way into the kingdoms and the great black knew their danger to his harem.
Tynan suddenly stood and made his presence known.
The giant stallion's eyes were blazing red, his ears pulled back as he studied the sudden appearance. Tynan placed two fingers in his mouth and whistled.
The stallion rose on his back legs, pawing the air around him. He called to the mares, his message known only to them, and ran like the wind toward a path he knew that would carry him to the top of the rise and the beckoning figure. A chestnut mare with white markings followed him.
Markel stood, not sure if he should be in shock or fear, as the two huge animals docilely approached. He had heard legends of the beasts but had never seen one; actually doubted that they had ever existed. Yet here, before him, were two while there were others in the valley below.
Tynan approached the giant stallion, his shoulders not reaching the top of the withers, and the Qell was taller than any man. He spoke softly for several moments before he turned to Markel and said, "They have agreed to aid us in our journey. This is Perinel and his mate is Shonnera. Miralen and Trelaine knew their distant ancestors."
Markel looked at the mare who turned her head to gaze at him with gentle brown eyes. He reached out and tentatively patted her shoulder, standing on the tip of his toes to do so for she was of great height next to him. "How will I mount her?" he asked, assured by her look that she would not object to the weight of his body on her back.
Tynan looped his fingers together and indicated that Markel should place his left foot in his hands. "Grasp her mane carefully as I lift you," he said.
Markel was momentarily disoriented when he found himself sitting high above the ground on Shonnera's back. Her muscles twitched beneath his legs and, finding himself sitting on a legendary beast, he was awed.
His awe was increased as he saw Tynan run toward Perinel's rear, jump and fling himself onto the giant animal's back.
"Use your knees to grasp," Tynan shouted to him, "and cling to her mane."
The mare surprised Markel in accepting him and the two sped off behind the Qell Lord and the giant black he rode.
. . .
"May I ask a question of you?" Markel asked Tynan several days later as they rode in easy gait toward the western-most reaches of Elanen.
"You may ask of me what you will," the Qell replied.
"In all the weeks we have traveled, never have you touched me. Am I not to your liking?"
Tynan had not expected the question and thought carefully before he answered. "You are very desirable," he finally replied. "But I sense that you have never known the love of a man before."
"This is true," Markel responded. "There are no others in our village such as I. Each man is expected to mate and produce children. I do not think there are any others left in the world who prefer men as their lovers."
"I cannot be your lover," Tynan finally said after a brief silence. "The fault is mine, not yours.
It is not within me to physically bond with one I do not love. I have deep affection for you, but I do not love you."
Markel was unsure what to think at that pronouncement. He had come with the Qell because it was his duty to the old grandmothers, but also because he had hoped that his dream of a man's embrace and the feel of masculine lips upon his own would be fulfilled.
He rode silently after that thinking to himself, `I am not man enough to attract the love of a man. I have no weight upon my bones and can prepare no meal but burnt greens and moldy grain.' A deep heaviness settled across his heart and he brushed away his silent tears.
. . .
Downhearted, for the task before him was unbearable, Tynan turned them toward Aolane ... that ruined place that had been the center of Qell glory in ancient times. Perhaps he could draw upon the old legends of his kind and rally mankind toward the hopes and dreams of a return to all that had been before.
They entered what had once been the courtyard of the old castle fortress in a snowstorm so intense that Tynan called upon Perinel to pick his way through the rubble. To his surprise a small fire burned ahead and he silently removed his sword from its sheath.
"It took you long enough to return," a deep voice said, and Tynan's face lit in joy as he leapt from Perinel and strode toward the unexpected.
"What are you doing here?" he asked.
"I sensed that the task of rebuilding what was lost would require at least two of us, since the dawn of mankind needed three."
Markel slowly slipped from Shonnera, stunned and confused as he saw yet another of the Qell.
The tall body was leaning against what remained of a wall, his right leg bent and foot pressed against the wall. His elbows were resting easily on the snow encrusted stones. Snowflakes covered his long black tresses.
"What have we here?" the new Qell asked as he spied Markel. "Is this your lover?"
"He is not," Tynan replied, "nor should he be yours for I know your fickle heart and will not have him hurt."
"I have no intention of hurting such a rare beauty. And it is rude of you to not introduce us, Brother."
The deep glow of fearsome Qell eyes left Tynan with two choices: start a feud with one who would be of help or hope that his brother had enough compassion to be gentle and fair.
"This is Markel," he finally said, "grandson of the ancient forest grandmothers who have strived through eons to keep our memory alive. Markel, this is Iashain, another manifestation of the Qell. Trust him, but do not love him."
Iashain pushed himself away from the wall and embraced Tynan. "I heard your thoughts and sensed the magnitude of the task before you," he said. "The magic that binds us required that I join you. Come, I have found a place where the walls have not completely fallen. We will eat and rest. On the morrow we will decide what must next be done."
To Markel he extended his hand. "Come, lad, I am not an ogre. My brother believes in love whereas I believe in pleasure. If you are willing, I will grant you that which you have always longed to know."