This is the ongoing sequel to `Dark Wishes', both copyrighted under Nifty and International Common Law. I received the suggestion, and gained permission from the most important gay person in my life, to add a bit of physical as well as emotional love to the series. There will be no descriptions of specific body parts or exchange of semen because I had enough response to the original series to know that some things are best left to the mind of the reader. This is a love story.
How you choose to interpret the way the characters show their physical love for each other is at your discretion.
Unspoken Wishes
M.C. Gordon
Part One: Markel
Chapter Five
Their first days together passed quickly as the two Qell Lords, aided by Markel, gathered more of the fallen stones of Aolane to complete the walls of their small abode. Winter had barely begun and Markel feared it would be harsh for he had one gift from his ancient ancestors of which he was sure, a weather sight. More dried grasses were gathered to feed Iashain's magic fire. Shelter was found for Perinel and Shonnera, and fodder stocked until spring returned and the horses could feed on the wild grasses around Aolane.
Great Perinel, enjoying the cold far more than Markel, ran freely among the ruins, stopping now and again to paw the ground with his giant hooves. Doing thus, he unearthed unsuspected patches of edible tubers. Unharvested and untamed for countless years, the roots produced again each season Markel gratefully removed them from the not yet frozen ground and placed them in a dark place amid the castle ruins, for the danger of starvation was great.
When Markel warned of a coming ice-storm, the Qell brought the horses into their new shelter. "She quickens," Tynan remarked to Iashain when he touched Shonnera. "She will bear a foal before spring."
The storm struck with a ferocity even Markel had not foreseen and the world became treacherous. Branches of trees in the forests broke beneath the weight of ice and fell to the ground. Iashain used his magic to cast protection around the wild life existing at the edges of the ruins.
Unable to venture out in the severe storm, for even lords of magic can slip on ice and injure themselves, Tynan and Iashain decided it was a good time to search for the King's treasure. When Markel fell asleep, his mind and body satiated from Iashain's lovemaking, the two sat in the center of the room. Joining minds as they joined hands, they sought Trelaine's memories.
Slowly, as if venturing through a deep fog, memories from the last High King came to his brothers of magic. They began to see Aolane in all its ancient glory and splendor. Each room, staircase, and passageway was marked indelibly in their minds. They knew where their brothers had lived with their lovers, could see those rooms clearly. Seeking deeper, ever deeper through magic which was their own and that lingering touch left behind by others, they finally found that which they sought ... the dungeons of Aolane.
"Can we move the massive stones that cover the entrance?" Iashain asked when the spell ended.
"Our magic is not yet strong enough," Tynan replied. "We could use Perinel to help bear the heavy weight but we need a harness and rope."
"None of which we will find after so many centuries of neglect," Iashain lamented. "Our resources are limited."
The two sat in silence and dismay for the King's treasure was a great part of their plan to improve the condition of Elanen. "Vines," Iashain finally supplied.
"Vines?" Tynan asked.
"Vines indeed!" Iashain exclaimed as he looked toward the eastern-most wall of their refuge, for against it was the mound of vines he had pulled down when he repaired the wall.
"The forest trees are full of them," he explained. "They have encroached everywhere and I needed to remove these. They might retain enough suppleness to fashion into a rope and harness."
With Markel's willing help the vines were soon stripped of drying leaves and woven into long lengths of rope. From these Tynan fashioned a crude harness for Perinel. The massive steed balked at the unnatural feel until some memory came to Iashain and he reminded the gigantic beast that his kind had once pulled travois bearing wounded warriors from battlefields.
It took several days to remove enough of the huge stones that the entrance to the dungeons could be opened. They could have worked more quickly if they had also utilized Shonnera but the Qell would not risk her or her unborn. Each young, of any kind, that could be brought safely into the world was one of the deepest desires of the magic pair.
Slowly, for Perinal's great strength could not be tasked beyond his endurance, the entrance was revealed. The lords knew the location of that which they sought but were stopped by a wall of solid stone.
"This must go," Tynan said and summoned as much power from his magic as he could. Iashain's fingers wrapped about his brother's and the two of them brought down the wall.
Their thrill at having found the treasure was equaled by an unexpected sight. "Look!" Iashain exclaimed in excitement. "Here are books, protected these long years by a magic that Trelaine must have cast before he left the world of mortal men."
"And here!" responded Tynan, equally excited. "Here are hides in good supply to use as we take tally of populations and foodstuffs in Elanen."
"I would like to aid in what way I can," Markel replied from the opening to the room. "I will try very hard, Lord Iashain, to learn to read and write if you will teach me."
Iashain crossed to the doorway and gently lifted Markel's face with one slender hand. "Am I not more than a lord to you, beloved?" he asked. "The many nights we have known pleasure of each other give you the right not to call me `lord'. I prefer hearing you say my name, without title, as you do when I cause your voice to speak what your mind and body feel when we share our bodies in love."
Tynan rolled his eyes toward the ceiling, knowing what would soon happen. "Find a comfortable spot here," he said to Iashain. "I cannot sleep at night, indeed I doubt the dead can rest in peace, for the sound of you cooing over each other. Perhaps this afternoon I will find a little quiet."
Iashain glanced about for a suitable spot and burst into merry laughter at Tynan's grumbling as the Qell made his way back to the room they shared. "All night and now the middle of the day," he mumbled. "Do they never grow tired? Do they not need sleep?"
. . .
Six days after the storm began, it ended. The world was lost in ice. Markel chopped some of the ice free and melted it in the pot Tynan had found, adding some of the tubers in an attempt to make a warm meal.
"You might want to add a bit of magic to that pot," Tynan told Iashain. "Markel might be a wonder in your bed but his cooking skills leave much to be desired."
Iashain was about to give back a sharp reply at any remark that was less than gracious about his love when a hard pounding at their door gave him pause. Puzzled, he crossed the room and opened the door. Several people blue with cold stood on the stoop. He quickly ushered them into the semi-warm room.
"I be Usan," the oldest man told them. "T' others be my kin: my sister, brother, brother's son, and my mother's sister's son's son. T' grandmothers told us that we should find you and offer service. Frina c'n cook an' tend hides. She also be a fair weaver an' seamstress. My brother Hanrad be a mason and wishes to help rebuild Aolane. His son Melcron be a herdsman. T' lad there, Efren, shows no gift yet but be willing as a body-servant."
"Come, and quickly," Iashain told them, for the icy cold quickly permeated the room. "How long have you journeyed here?" he asked as he closed the door.
"Long days and nights," Usan replied. "We would have traveled any length to serve t' Qell. We be honored if we can aid the Kings."
"Nonsense," Tynan spoke. "We are honored that you came to us. Perhaps Frina would see what can be done to improve the questionable soup simmering in yon pot."
Iashain bit back another retort as Markel nudged him in the rib with one elbow. Efren, a handsome lad approaching his twentieth year, was shivering near the hearth. His ashen hair was dark and damp from melting ice crystals. His eyes, pale grey with flecks of amber, darted from one Qell to the other and back again. Iashain quickly judged the lad's character and found himself recognizing the yearning on the young face. He was amazed that Tynan did not feel the intense desire that simmered in this one's soul, an unquenchable longing to be held in masculine arms and loved until he was content.
Smiling as a thought came to mind he whispered to Markel, "Go to the dungeons and fetch back several warm coverings," for blankets had also been among the hidden bounty of Aolane's past wealth.
Markel scurried away on his errand, also aware of the strong feelings emanating from the quiet young stranger. He returned moments later with enough blankets for all, including a plentiful supply for bedding.
Efren smiled shyly as Markel offered to help remove his damp cloak and encased him in the comforting warmth of a blanket made from the warm wool of sheep from a province that had ceased to exist even before the end of Trelaine's time. "Have you lived with them long?" Efren finally asked.
"Not long," Markel replied. "But long enough to know their intention to aid all the inhabitants of Elanen."
"Is it true?" Markel asked, "that the Qell Lords will love only men?"
"True, yet not true," Markel said. "They love all life, male and female, plant and animal. They know that for life to continue there must be a mating between men and women, and that it is best if that mating is done with love and consideration of each for the other. If you ask the truth that they will mate only with men ... that is true."
"Are you their mate?" Efren asked, finally growing warm and feeling safe to reveal himself.
"I am Iashain's lover," Markel replied, "if that is what you wish to know. Lord Tynan has not yet found the one he would love enough to share his seed with."
Efren drew in a deep breath and whispered, "There are those who believe it is the mating of men and women that gives life to the crops and herds."
Iashain chuckled as he approached the two. "A fine belief," he said smiling. "Let those who choose women use their seed to fertilize them and the fields.
They have my approval. For myself, I prefer Markel's field for the sowing of my seed. I cannot begin to imagine the reaction to magic Halflings if we Qell were to go about lying with women for the five hundred years allotted to our lives."
"A true and good thought, M'Lord," said Frina, whose presence had been ignored. "A child of two is more'n enough for a mother to fret o'er. "But one wi' magic?" She placed the palm of her right hand against her heart and the back of her left hand to her forehead in a mock swoon.
Efren laughed at the thought of his kinswoman running down a two-year old whose chubby legs ran only half as fast as his mind thought they did, wishing the napkin around his bottom gone, and succeeding with only a thought. So vivid was the image in his mind that he almost told Frina she would have many children who would go beyond the age of two.
Iashain interrupted his thought by asking Frina if the soup was ready for serving. At her affirmative reply he ladled a bowl for Tynan and handed it to Efren.
"Please take this to your king," he said.
Efren hesitated and then did as he had been bid, shyly approaching the tall lord who was talking with Usan about herds and grains. As he handed the bowl to Tynan their fingers brushed. And for the young man the entire world stopped and ceased to exist. The only awareness in his mind was the feel of the magic lord's fingers against his. He froze, as if caught by some unexplained force of nature, unwilling to let the touch end. His entire body began to tingle and he only let go the bowl when his loins reacted and his desire displayed itself against the loose fabric of his breeches. Shocked by his reaction, Efren mumbled something unintelligible and ran out of the sheltered room into the frozen night.
To be continued
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