Elf Boy and Friends
Part 8 of 10
by George Gauthier
Chapter 33. Balan and the Twins
"Whew. You should have warned us, Balan, how hot it would be this far north." Karel complained. The blond archer added that he was feeling lightheaded and needed a break. Their party of four had been walking for three hours that morning. The sun was high in the sky, beating down, rendering even tawnier the bare skins of the three nude youths among them. Only the giant wore clothing, this time lightweight silks atop leather trews. All four travelers wore straw hats with a broad brim to provide shade, though they made the nude youths look ridiculous with so much hat atop so nude and slender a body.
Nevertheless the hats made a lot of sense. The treeless plains offered little shade except what you carried with you. Acknowledging the blond boy's needs, Karel's companions stayed their forward progress as the youth let the quarterstaff and unstrung bow he carried over his left shoulder slip to the grass. The pack and scabbard hung from the end of the staff went with it. Grateful for a chance to rest, Karel sank to the grass, crawling under the totally inadequate shade of a small bush, trying to stir the air with his hat.
The travelers would not be be stopping long enough to make it worthwhile for the youth to rig the sarong in his pack as a canopy or sunshade. That versatile rectangle of fabric actually had many uses besides serving as a garment. It could also be a groundsheet, a rain canopy or sunshade, a signal flag, a towel, a privacy curtain, an improvised back pack or stretcher, and even as a weapon -- when flung at an opponent's head as a distraction. The twins only rarely wrapped their sarongs around their hips preferring nudity, a practice picked up from the elvish clan they had been adopted into as elf-friends. Young elves typically spent their first century "skin clad".
"I mean, I usually handle heat well enough, slender as I am and running around stark naked as I nearly always do. But this climate is something else again. Tell me 'professor' Balan why it is so damn hot in this region." the youth, recently turned twenty, asked his giant ally.
"Son, if anyone has a right to complain about the heat it would be myself, even if it was my idea to come here. Try shedding heat when you stand seven-and-a-half feet and are powerfully built. I must outweigh you and your equally svelte twin brother put together twice over."
"Whereas you two, why just look at yourselves. The way you and Jemsen are built, medium height, very slender, with that wiry musculature you are so fond of putting on public display, and the high level of fitness you boys maintain from all that running and swimming you do, and your nudity as well, they all let you shed body heat easily enough. As long as you keep hydrated, you sweat freely so evaporation carries off most of your excess body heat. But your fitness also lets you throw heat off directly into the air, through dilated blood vessels under the skin, heat carried from your core by the circulation of the blood. Not to mention that the shade of your straw hat shelters much more of your slender bodies than mine does for mine."
"You always seem to know everything, Balan. You are a natural philosopher at heart, trapped in the body of a giant warrior, bristling with weaponry enough for any three men. Maybe that is why Jemsen and I so frequently go along on your adventures, to continue our education."
"Harrumph!"
Their good friend the giant knew that for the twins, continuing education meant endless questions from those incessant chatterboxes, both of them insatiably inquisitiveness. Actually, he found their minds one of their most attractive characteristics. There was a lot more to the twins than pretty faces and sexy bodies.
Not that the giant was indifferent to their physical charms. Like many males of the sentient species dwelling on Planet Haven, he had an eye for a pretty youth, and these two were among the very prettiest, with healthy boyish bodies, their heads crowned with cornsilk blond hair, cute fine boned faces. The total effect was very sexy.
Hunters, archers, and skilled map makers, the twins had been decorated for their service as scouts in the Commonwealth army during the Second War for the Plains. Both of them had been awarded the coveted Military Cross for Valor, which entitled them to append "MC" to their names. Their innate magical gift was that of unerring direction. They could sense the azimuth and elevation to any place they had ever been to or could see from afar, a great advantage for military scouts or the hunters they had originally been. More recently the twins had invented contour lines to depict elevations on topographic maps, for which the government of the Commonwealth had knighted them while the Guild of Cartographers had inducted them as Master Cartographers.
The small tattoos on their left shoulders showed they had been designated as both elf-friends and dwarf-friends for bravery and selfless service rendered to those peoples. Either folk would extend them hospitality and protection. Blest with good looks, brains, stones, and sex appeal, what was there not to like?
"As to why it is so hot hereabouts, the answer is simple enough. In these lands beyond the northern borders of the Commonwealth, we are pretty close to the Equator."
"And maybe I do 'bristle with weaponry', as you put it, but each has a purpose: quarterstaff, greatsword, main-gauche, throwing knives, war axe, dagger, boot knife, even a simple cudgel. In combat you select the right one for the job. It's not like the weight of them slows me down, strong as I am. I don't like word about this to get around, so you two chatterboxes had better mind your tongues, but one of my magical gifts is enhanced strength. Sure any foe can see that I must be strong, but they are not prepared for my immense strength, more than twice what they might expect from my size. I am actually as strong as a Frost Giant."
"Which for a Dread Hand of the Commonwealth, comes in handy, all the fighting I do in my line of work. Ah, so many bad people, so many heads to lop off!" he added with a facetious sigh.
Balandur's line of work was as a Dread Hand of the Commonwealth of the Long River, the benignly hegemonic state in the heart of the continent and its chief defender of civilization. The Hands were the trouble-shooters for the Commonwealth. As plenipotentiary agents of the state, their authority could override that of any civil official or military officer. They would identify themselves by holding up their right hand and triggering a small magic to display a glowing outline of a hand on their palm.
"I see you shaking your head and smiling, elf-boy. So what's so funny, Ran. Care to share with the rest of us?" the giant growled in mock umbrage to the last of the four companions.
This was Ran. An impertinent and irrepressible scamp, he had first served as a runner in the scouts for with the twins, as their Boy Friday and jack of all trades. The lovely elf-boy Randell (accent on second syllable), was barely five foot tall, lithe and svelte, his dark blond hair and blue eyes evidence of his one-quarter human heritage.
As an elf himself, Ran did not need the excuse of being an elf-friend, like the twins, to live as elves did, close to nature, entirely naked or "skin clad". After their first century of lives, older elves might take to wearing a skimpy loincloth, but Ran was only seventeen and had shed the loincloth he had sometimes had to wear while with the scouts. Oh he still carried it with him, as the twins did their silk riding trews. The only garment they found really useful were their silk camouflage cloaks, though theirs could not magically shift color and pattern like that worn by their friend, the young journeyman druid, Dahlderon.
Ran too was marked as a dwarf-friend, for his service with the twins at the battle for Stone Mountain. More catholic in his tastes than most, he fancied both pretty boys, like the twins, and pretty lasses as well, human lasses, which had raised eyebrows, to put it mildly, on his home turf. Alas, after cutting a swath through the young ladies of his homeland, Ran had been forced to flee a joint posse of vigilantes, both elf and human, and charged never to darken their doors again.
Never at a loss for words, the voluble elf-boy looked over at the giant and said.
"Much as I enjoy your lively banter, I do have a serious question to pose to you, Balan. Now, I don't want to come across as the mercenary of our little group, but with all the trouble you have put us through, I have to ask: are the three of us still getting paid? I mean, when we were with the scouts, we were on the Army payroll. Next is was the turn of the druids to pay us during our mission to Stone Mountain. I know that you Balan draw a salary from the Commonwealth and are paid very well indeed. What about us?"
"Hmmm. I have to wonder where you heard about my level of compensation. Might be a leak there to plug. It is true enough that I am well compensated for my efforts, and why not? Given our responsibilities, would you want us Hands to be vulnerable to bribery? Then there are the many risks involved. So I feel that I earn every copper they pay me."
"Coppers? I happen to know that they pay you in golds, Balan, a hundred golds each and every month." the elf-boy replied, eyes twinkling mischievously. That provoked a guffaw from the giant.
"Ha! You have me there, you little imp! In my own defense, let me point out that I don't do what I do for the golds the Commonwealth pays me. My monthly stipend is actually modest compared to the comfortable income I draw from my estates. In my own country, we do not have a true aristocracy, thank the gods, but we do have hands-on gentry. I happen to be one of the landowners in the district. My brother manages my estates for me, as well as his own, in my absence. Which is why I turn my salary over to an institute in the Commonwealth capital that provides facilities and stipends for natural philosophers. Indeed I hope to get an appointment there myself one day, when I retire as a Hand."
"When will that be? I thought you giants lived a thousand years or more."
"We do and I am nearly there now. Despite my longevity I might get invalided out someday, with all the dangers we Hands face. It has happened before, especially if the disability were caused by magic. As for your own sorry self Ran, don't worry. You are still carried on the rolls of the druids though the exchequer of the Commonwealth compensates theirs for the use of your services on our missions together.
"By the way, Ran. How did you know about my level of compensation?"
With a sly smile the elf-boy replied:
"Naturally I cannot betray confidences, so let's just say that I have long ears and a wide circle of acquaintance."
"Circle of acquaintance, eh? I suppose that's one way of putting it." the giant conceded equitably. Ran was well known for being generous with his charms.
That evening, Balan took Karel to his bed while Ran paired off with Jemsen. Long familiar with each other's bodies, the couples settled easily into the routines of love-making. Jemsen and Ran enjoyed an hour of enthusiastic and sweaty sex, with lots of giggling, rolling around, grappling, and thrusting of hips to drive rampant cocks into welcoming orifices. Both twins loved to make it with Ran. Cute, sexy, funny, versatile, energetic and acrobatic, what were there not to like about sex with the uninhibited elven poplet?
As always Balan was careful with his great size and weight with his partner lest he smother or crush the slender youth. Very often Balan lay supine and let a twin straddle his hips and sink as far as they could onto his shaft, leaving them in control of the extent of the penetration. He could never go all the way with the lads. He was just too big.
Ran and the twins also liked Balan to fuck them on all fours, their rumps presented temptingly to the giant. In that position too, since he controlled the degree of penetration, there was little chance of accident. Of all his boy lovers, only the shapeshifter cum minstrel Aodh and and the young druid Dahl, could actually take all of the giant's virile member despite being only about Ran's size. Their inherent magics worked in different ways to make that possible.
As the foursome resumed the march, the irrepressible Ran asked no one in particular:
"Remind me again, why we are on foot, instead of on horseback."
Karel supplied the answer.
"For one thing, if you are sitting on a horse you cannot use your pace count to measure distance which we combine with our sense of our azimuth of march in a simple technique called dead reckoning. Sounds primitive, but it is surprisingly effective in getting a good first approximation of distance traveled and your new position. From those we construct our sketch maps as we go."
"So speaks the mapmaker." Ran observed.
"Harder for anyone to track a party on foot or spot it from afar." noted Jemsen.
"So speaks the hunter." Ran added.
"And as rear guard," Balan said, "I get to ogle those taut bodies of yours, with their slender frames and sculpted musculatures, especially your delightfully tight buns clenching and twitching and dimpling.
"So speaks the seeker and boy lover." Ran finished.
Just then Balan glanced up at the skies.
"Too bad we don't have eyes aloft. It would make our scouting a whole lot easier. Alas, where is Dahl when you really need him?."
Druids like Dahl could send part of their consciousness into the mind of a hawk or an eagle and take control, affording them a bird's eye view of the surroundings. For that matter, so could their Adversary or his Dark Prophet, though they preferred ravens or rooks as their aerial agents of surveillance. But Dahl had returned to the Great Southern Forest for advanced training in druidical magic. There he would learn to levitate and to control the elements and other techniques.
Around the campfire in the evening, each of the companions turned their attention to his own tasks. Ran was their Boy Friday and general factotum. He had the knack for cooking up tasty meals whether in the kitchen or over an open fire. Balan attended to their weapons, checking for rust, honing blades, and also practicing his knife throwing. He and the twins often sparred with their quarter staffs, the weapon they had in common. Alternatively Ran trained the twins in martial arts, which had been the equalizer the elf-boy turned to early on to compensate for his lack of size and reach.
Ran also practiced with his sling while on the march during the day. Every so often he let loose at a likely stump or rock and sometimes even brought down a hare or a partridge for their supper. But he also took a turn giving the twins lessons in close-in knife fighting at which he was a master, quick and nimble as he was thanks to his petite physique. Ran was ambidextrous and liked to switch hands to disconcert his opponents.
The elf-boy had always preferred the kukri. The weapon cum tool was just about the largest blade he could wield effectively. Its bent blade lent power to a thrust, but it could also slash and chop. Frankly Ran was too small and lacked reach to wield a sword and take his place in a shield wall to stand shoulder to shoulder against a foe. Shield and armor would only slow him down, so no sword or war axe for little Ran.
Karel and Jemsen jotted notes and observations in their journey books and maintained sketch maps of the country they had already traversed. Once they returned to civilization, they would produce finished maps. That was the purpose of their scout, to improve and update the Commonwealth's maps of a sparsely populated region long ignored and thought to be militarily, politically, and economically insignificant. Only it just might not be so in the future.
Dahl had once asked the twins if they could determine true distance as well as azimuth and elevation. Jemsen told him:
"Not with our gift alone, no, but we can do so in conjunction with our maps and mathematics. For distance, all that we sense with magic is a vague magnitude: close by, not too near, a good ways off, or far far away. Not very precise, I'll admit. Now our azimuth is a true heading. Sail a ship along an azimuth, a rhumb line, we give you and you will get there. It is not the shortest surface route, which lies along a great circle of the globe, but simply an unvarying course to the destination. We also detect the absolutely shortest direction, straight through the planet and out the other side."
"So which distance do you calculate, great circle or rhumb line?"
"Both of those plus the true least distance, as if you could tunnel straight through the planet. From our angle of elevation and the circumference of the globe, we figure where a line straight through would come back out to the surface. Once we have the least distance, we calculate the other two."
He went on to explain that their technique was related to that of surveyors who translated their observations in the field into calculated positions on a cadastral map. Both techniques required intricate and painstaking mathematics, using tables of values developed by the Commonwealth's natural philosophers that let one use simple addition and subtraction instead of error-prone multiplication and division to manipulate the tiny fractional values. [i.e. logarithms and trigonometric functions]
Professional surveyors also measured elevation or altitude above sea level, something their own techniques, applied to much greater distances, could not do. For that they relied on a recent invention, the box barometer, a device that actually measured air pressure.
The twin also stated that making a comprehensive map of a territory was a job best left for after field work, in comfortable circumstances back at base. Still, if they had to, the twins could calculate true distances even in the field using worksheets and the logarithmic and trigonometric tables published on sturdy onionskin paper in a leather bound book which Jemsen carried in his pack.
Chapter 34. Advanced Class
"No, Dahl, you are trying too hard. Don't scrunch your face up in concentration. That will only give you a headache. Relax, breathe evenly, find your center, let the magic flow into you, don't try to grab it with a mental net."
Dahl sighed and unwound his legs to change from a seated position to lying supine on the grass. He could do with a break. Time to lie back, close his eyes, and let the warm rays of the morning sun kiss his bare body as he relaxed next to his teacher who, like his student, was naked. Druids are like elves in living close to nature, and had as little use for clothing as their habitually nude friends with the pointed ears. Their proximity gave Owain a chance to admire his pupil's lovely body, looking even lovelier in repose.
Even stretched out like that, Dahl was only one inch over five feet from top to toe. His was one of those physiques that was more about quality than about quantity. The elf-boy was justifiably proud of the trim and taut body he had so recently grown into.
Dahl really had a beautiful body, slender yet muscular, tanned, taut and toned with good shoulders, a ripped torso with corrugated abdominals, a flat belly and narrow hips. He had one of those impossibly small waists you could almost put your hands around and a pert rump, with small but firm and shapely buns. No hair interrupted the flow of his faultless lines. Elves never grow body hair, even at the fork of the legs, and go beardless all their lives.
The druid could see that the boy was a treasure. From his tiny red nipples to a deeply indented navel, to narrow hips framing a surprisingly ample manhood for one so slight in build, he was real beauty. He carried so little body fat that his flat belly showed a tracery of downward pointing veins just under the skin. The beat of his heart was visible on the left side of his chest.
From the rear, unfortunately out of view at that moment, the boy was all curves: the calves, the thighs, the globes of the buttocks, the swale of the lower back, the slope up to the shoulder blades which formed winglets on his upper back. His legs were strong though slender; he had a fine coltish build on him. All elves were good runners. It was a much as part of them as of any antelope or equine for that matter. It was one of the things that had always bonded unicorns to elf-boys, which was why several of the white-coated allies of the druids had been sent to fetch them in the first place.
As for Owain, the senior druid was a diminutive human youth with strawberry blond hair and very much like Dahl in build though a bit shorter. His youthful features gave no indication of his 184 years. The boyish blue-eyed blond beauty gazed entranced at the exquisite body of his young lover. He could never get enough of the elf-boy, as his own involuntary but not unwelcome physical reaction to the boy's naked beauty and proximity showed unmistakably. But then druids are seldom embarrassed by their own erections in public. Weren't they just a physical expression of sincerity and invitation? And completely distinguishable from mere flattery or cajolery.
As one wiseacre among the druids once put it: Nothing says hello and glad to see you quite so sincerely as a soldier standing at attention."
Persuading himself that what Dahl really needed at the moment was a distraction, a break from training in magic, Owain leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on the pouty lips of his young lover. Dahl's green eyes flew open in surprise and delight. Owain rubbed their noses together then shifted his attentions to the elf-boy's ear, nuzzling and blowing and chewing lightly on earlobe.
"Mmm. I rather like that Owain."
"Let's see what else you might like Dahl."
One thing led to another and soon their two strong young bodies were engaged in sexual congress, exploring all the ways that young males can pleasure each other's bodies, from foreplay and petting to oral and anal copulation leading to orgasm. The youths often engaged in mutual oral stimulation, their bodies aligned head to tail, the boy on top on his knees and elbows, the boy underneath laid out on his back though with head raised to reach the other boy's organs of generation, dangling so temptingly above his face.
As young druids whose bodies were supremely healthy and fit. Even without using their powers they could orgasm again and again and in overflowing quantities. Throughout their long lives druids would never have to endure that particular weakness of the flesh called erectile disfunction. At the finale, Owain let the younger boy's gusher erupt into the air and splash onto his belly, where the gism became the medium for an ephemeral finger painting of a unicorn's head and neck.
"There, now wasn't that better Dahl? As for your powers, don't worry. Trust me, your breakthrough will come very soon. I can tell."
For Dahl the surprise tryst had come at just the right time to relieve his frustration. After all his progress, he was stuck on a plateau, groping for a way to advance his control of magic to the highest levels. Luckily his mentor and now lover, the senior druid Owain, was a patient teacher. He was actually quite pleased with his pupil's progress. He had told the younger druid as much. Owain considered Dahl to already be a full druid, or very close to it, even before he faced his third and final challenge as a journeyman. That was a mere formality in Owain's opinion.
As his first challenge Dahl had helped to stop a race war between humans and the dwarves at Stone Mountain, though that was a joint effort with another journeyman druid, a native of the region, the Stone Mountain dwarf named Xebrek, the great hero of the climactic battle, alas fallen in mortal combat with the enemy wizard, whom he had finally slain. In the great battle he was also helped by the unicorn Merry and the human twins Jemsen and Karel.
While present at Stone Mountain, Count Klarendes had not fought in the battle. Instead the nobleman had carried out an ingenious plan devised by Dahl to use his white fire to blast a flood control tunnel a thousand paces long through solid rock, which, for complicated reasons, essentially brought the war to a quick close, with both sides really victors. Owain had been on hand to see the conclusion of the conflict, having brought both Klarendes and his young lover, the wir panther Aodh, to Stone Mountain in a swift courier boat borrowed from the Commonwealth, propelled by steady winds the senior druid had called by his magic.
So his protege had relied not only on magic but on his wits to envisage a way to end the conflict between the two warring peoples. He had enlisted the twins with their directional gift to calculate the precise starting position, azimuth, and declination for the tunnel, then brought in the only fire caster available to do the actual work. The war wizards of the Commonwealth liked to think they alone could wield white fire, but Klarendes had broken their monopoly, leaving the wizards quite miffed though not actually hostile. Klarendes was a nobleman of the Commonwealth and on their side, after all.
Dahl had set forth alone on his second challenge which showed him at his very best. Here again he had not relied solely on magic. Instead he had resolved two difficult problems, the first an ecological disaster caused by an invasive species in an archipelago in the southern reaches of the Great Inland Fresh Water Sea. For this he had called on his training in the biological sciences: ecology, zoology, agriculture, horticulture, and forestry.
His other achievement, and one undertaken at his own initiative, was to over-turn the unnatural, cruel, and alchemically maintained social and political order in the Land of the Amazons. He had set a blight on the herbs the Amazons used during pregnancy to ensure that females were born much larger than their diminutive male counterparts whom they kept in a state of political, social, and sexual subjugation, virtually enslaved, though they could not be sold as chattels, and kept perpetually naked, their very genitalia ringed to prevent unauthorized erections.
Even now a slow moving but inevitable revolution was in progress there, which in time, though perhaps as much as three generations, would re-make that country over, letting all its inhabitants, both male and female, live their lives without the unnatural sexual dimorphism that had led to so much coercion and inequality.
All this accomplished with minimal loss of life. The victims included only Dahl's young protege Paval and the crew of a timber barge on which he had embarked plus the villainous Amazons who had murdered them. Dahl had faced down the elite of the Amazon army, four hundred strong. First he entangled them in vines to fix them in place then lead the charge of a herd of brontotheres to trample their joint enemy into the earth they had defiled.
Dahl had long been fascinated by the giant beasts, which stood over eight feet high at the shoulder and weighed in at nearly ten tons. They truly were the juggernauts of the jungle. No one messed with brontotheres. Or with their new friend, the young druid who had treated them so civilly, asking for rather than compelling their cooperation. Besides, it had been fun for the herd to reassert its primacy on its home turf. Can't have bloodthirsty humans running around brandishing weapons. Next thing you knew, they would be moving in, and there goes the neighborhood.
Dahl's second challenge had also been a test of his moral courage, as he braced himself, for the sake of his mission, to endure physical, psychological, and sexual torments in an Amazon dungeon, when he might have escaped, though at the cost of total failure at resolving both problems.
It soothed his conscience that in recompense for his disrupting their society, Dahl had introduced the Amazons to a much better way to protect their crops from hungry brontotheres without bringing harm to the magnificent beasts or depriving the land of the protection the beasts offered against large carnivores.
Now Dal was back with Owain, learning the more advanced techniques of druidic magic including levitation and control of the winds.
For all their hard work, they had plenty of time for fun and frolic. The two lovers sometimes did not wait to get to their sleeping chamber but made love out on the lawn or in the bathing pool, their small bodies slick with soap and soaking wet, both of them shouting and laughing and splashing like kids.
Sometimes Owain hopped his butt up on the edge of the pool offering his cock to Dahl who stayed in the water. Owain would lean back, his upper body braced on his arms, legs spread wide to give Dahl unimpeded access to his chest and belly and groin. The elf-boy took full advantage of his access, stimulating his lover's cock with tongue and fingers, tweaking his nipples, and stroking the corrugations of his belly. Owain's body would signal an impending ejaculation by a faster respiration rate and a tightening of the belly muscles just before he blew.
Next the duo reversed positions. Then Owain would be the one looking up adoringly at the face of his lover as he kissed and sucked and tongued the senior druid's shaft. The two were quite shameless and vocal in their lovemaking. The servants were well-practiced at being discreet and never walking in on them.
Dahl and Owain always shared a bed. Even if they were tired a particular night and just wanted to sleep. They both liked to have each other's youthful body next to theirs. The body warmth and aroma of clean boy were pleasing, soothing when one was tired or exciting when one was randy. They had learned to recognize each other's moods, whether the other wanted to be simply held fondly or to make love. When they settled into slumber it was usually with them spooned together.
That night, as the lovers lingered in the afterglow of coitus, Dahl asked Owain about things he had been wondering about for some time.
"I've been thinking about same sex relationships. Why are they so common among the sentient races? Why is it mostly males who engage in sex with others of their own gender and seldom females with each other? Why is the attraction between elves and humans so strong but non-existent between say dwarves and elves. Now with dwarves and giants, the reason for their lack of interest in each other is obvious."
"Why do you think things are that way, Dahl. What have you figured out so far?"
"Well, understand Owain, these are just unconnected observations. First, longevity seems to require low fecundity lest a population proliferates beyond the capacity of the land to support it. That is why among us elves, our females so seldom come into season. Yet males must be ready for them, at all times, so they can perform during their fleeting window of opportunity, or the race would eventually disappear. Meanwhile, of necessity, the sexual energies of the males are turned toward one another. That much is clear. The origins are not. Can they be wholly natural. Or is there some power other than nature at work? Perhaps magic or even a highly advanced sort of natural philosophy?"
"Very good, Dahl. You are on the right track. The wizards who opened the star gate to this planet were as much steeped in natural philosophy as in what we know as magic. Unfortunately they had to abandon most of their advanced technology which was based on natural philosophy. They did preserve their magical arts."
Dahl continued:
"Now humans and elves are very much alike. Physically elves are slender humans with pointed ears. That is an oversimplification, but essentially true. The two races differ in longevity hence also in fecundity. Human females are in season most of the time and their males all the time. Sexual receptiveness among the human females strengthens the marital bond, keeping males at home to support both mate and offspring. Otherwise their sex drive might lead males to seek other partners."
"Sometimes just from the way they look at me, it seems that sex is all guys think about. Even those who are genuinely happily married eye me hungrily. Easy enough to do when I am always stark naked. Easy enough to gauge their reactions, since some many of them often go naked themselves. Their interest isn't hidden much by swollen loincloths or tented out kilts either. Even the intense looks and the flaring of the nostrils gives that away."
"Yet I have encountered hostility as well. Human males who look down on us elf-boys as overly promiscuous. They use demeaning phrases, describing us as prancing around in the altogether, shaking our booties, rent boys trolling for custom. Aren't they themselves our customers? Don't they want to connect with a willing elf-boy. It's no secret that we give the best sex of all of the races. As the scores of males who have had me over these last three years could attest."
"And it is not just laughter or even contempt toward us. Sometimes I see real hatred. Does that make sense? I don't think I am just being vain when I say that I am extraordinarily beautiful, so why not admiration instead?"
"Yet I have had men rutting away at me, men who paid me in silver coin to bend over for them, men who tell me they hate themselves for wanting me, hate me for tempting them, and that they would like nothing more than to take their fists to a face they say is far too pretty for a boy, to pound that face, break its bones, and make it hideous. Then they would break my sexy little body as well. Why?
"Why do they blame me. It is nothing I have done except tempt by simply being myself. I grant you they are not in active control of their hormones, of their feelings, but neither I do control my instincts. Why do they think I somehow control mine and maybe theirs as well?"
"And yet, these men are not habitually mean and cruel. Often they are decent enough family men, good workers and providers, generally honest in their dealings with others. Somehow, someone as seemingly inoffensive as a pretty elf-boy brings out the worst in them. To their credit, some of that sort deplore their own bad feelings, and most have enough self-control not to act on them. A few don't"
"Well, that is about it, so far, Owain."
"Good. We should talk about this soon. I want you to have the chance to sleep on it and then mull it over for a few days, now that you have stated the problem clearly, or as clearly as you now see it. What you are about to learn about our origins on this planet, or really off it, may shake the foundations of your world view, but it is an essential part of being a druid. In your own way, you are groping toward answering the existential questions like: What is life for? and Why is life the way it is? ? Why two sexes and why do many prefer their own to the opposite gender?"
"Oh, one other thing, Owain. I cannot help wondering about shape shifters like Aodh. Where do they fit in?"
"You are still in love with him, then."
"Yes, and I always will be. Our promiscuous rent boy days are behind us, me and Aodh, but we will always have a special bond the two of us. As we ourselves do, Owain. I hope I don't embarrass you by including you in that category. I mean, you never told me that you were off-bounds or that students should not fall in love with their teachers. As I have with you, Owain."
"And as you are with Aodh, and the twins, Ran maybe."
"Well, Ran is awfully cute, but we have not bonded in the same way, not the way with those with whom I shared so many adventures."
"And Merry?"
"Merry is in a whole different category, though I sometimes feel that inside that white hide of his lives a cute elf-boy struggling to emerge. Merry tells me that I merely sense echos of his past life, but to me it feels more like a newborn in the womb struggling to be born. He did admit once that the one thing he regrets about his current form is a lack of hands. As for myself, I sometime wonder what an elf-boy version of Merry would be like. Does that make any sense?"
Owain merely nodded, unable to trust himself to speak. Dahl had hit uncomfortably close to the truth. Or what might become the truth with the help of the gods, if there really were any gods up there. He finally did tell Dahl that being bred by Merry now contributed nothing to the growth of his magic, a process which had become self-sustaining.
"OK but that won't change anything between me and Merry. Merry is a friend. You don't pick your friends and lovers because they are useful or necessary. I like Merry, I respect him. I love him, and he loves me. Sometimes though I do wonder what he would look like as the elf-boy he once was."
To which the elder druid added cryptically:
"Someday you might just get your wish, Dahl, but let us not speak of such things now."
With that, the senior druid laid a hand to Dahl's forehead, brushing back a stray lock of raven hair from the face of this boy he had grown to love, a boy who had become a man to respect, a man who would always look like a teenage male and one far too pretty for his gender. But that was just fine with him. Owain looked that way himself and liked things that way. Unending youth and physical beauty was not a bad way to spend your days in the sun, no, not bad at all.
Tonight his converse with Dahl had made his heart soar. Owain had long hoped they would become life partners. The gods know he had needed someone to fill the void left after his first true lover, a human, had simply died of old age. Owain had loved Will so very much, but his as yet undeveloped druidic powers could do so little for Will, merely keeping him healthy and slowing the ravages of time. He had still been a fine looking man when he died at sixty from a fall.
Looks like after all, that he would be sharing his boy with several others. He had no problem with that. Besides, he rather liked all those Dahl had mentioned as being in the special category and would not mind giving that Randell kid, impertinent imp that he was, a tryout either. The important fact for Owain is that he himself was included. Laud the gods!
Chapter 35. Centaurs
As things turned out, the timing of the the twins' expedition with Balan and Ran was fortuitous. The Commonwealth soon found their maps to be of strategic importance. It looked liked yet a third War for the Plains was shaping up, this time on the Eastern Plains and bringing a new foe into the conflict: the centaurs whose normal range was way on the other side of the Commonwealth in the southern reaches of the Western Plains,in the cooler climes far south of the Equatorial belt. Now they were migrating, doing an end run north of the Commonwealth to reach the Eastern Plains.
The centaurs on Haven were not at all like the mythological pairing of a human torso with the body of a horse. These creatures were not even mammalian. To many they looked reptilian though they were not reptiles. Others thought they were akin to insects but that was mostly because they had chitinous armor and six limbs, the only large species on the planet to do so. In an event, these centaurs had internal cartilaginous skeletons, unlike insects who wore their skeletons of chitin on the outside of their bodies.
Actually the centaurs were a race unto themselves, arrived from who knew where by means unknown, though an off-world origin was the consensus among the natural philosophers who had studied the centaurs and survived the experience long enough to write about them. The two best monographs on the centaurs had to be published posthumously from salvaged notes.
Now the creatures had their eye on the Eastern Plains, that is those lying to the east of the Commonwealth proper, the theater of two recent wars.
The geography was clear enough. The spine of the Commonwealth was a mighty river called simply the Long River. If flowed due south in a great rift valley hundreds of leagues long and eighty wide. Ages ago tectonic forces had thrust blocks of crust up to create parallel mountain ranges, forcing the land between them to sink downward into a rift or graben. The flatlands of the graben were considered the Commonwealth proper. Its rich alluvial soil supported a population in the tens of millions.
The mountains facing the river were quite rugged but their outward flanks were much less steep. Few passes crossed these mountains. As the Commonwealth expanded, first by conquest and then by more or less voluntary annexation or accession of its neighbors during the Formation Wars, it occupied the mountains, not only for the sake of clear and secure borders but to obtain the resources of those lands from mines and timberlands, and such. They made good sheep country too. Wise stewards of the land, the rulers of the Commonwealth conserved the forests which protected their watersheds, guaranteeing a steady flow of water for water mills, river boats, canals, and irrigation.
Outward from the mountains were wide areas of plains. Those to the east had previously been uninhabited, a no man's land. Beyond them lay a huge area of rugged terrain, a series of plateaux and mountain ranges and inland basins occupied by millions of barbarians. To create an outer defensive zone, the Army of the Commonwealth occupied the Eastern Plains and brought in settlers. With a few decades the plains were a prosperous province of the Commonwealth, dotted with ranches and farms and the towns that served them. Plus the army camps and forts that protected them and the agricultural heartland west of the mountains.
The Western Plains were another story entirely. Long inhabited by nomads the country wasn't all grassy plains by any means. Scraggly trees lined the swales; brush and thorn bushes formed thickets. Patches of scrub forest sprung up at the base of rocky outcrops.
The nomads were no longer a danger themselves. In ages past they had raided widely, but that was before the towns to the northwest, along the Great Trade Road, built wooden palisades and drilled their militias to defend them, making raids unprofitable. Whereas once the horse riders had roamed freely over the plains, they had been forced into fixed territories after the armies of the Long River Commonwealth made it clear that they would no longer tolerate raids and inter-tribal warfare which always spilled over into civilized lands.
The centaurs ranged over the cooler lands to the south, farther from the Equator. Their large bodies did not tolerate heat as well as humans or even horses, especially since they lacked the sweat glands of mammals.
All this was so well known that everyone was surprised when the centaurs picked up and headed north right across the hottest zone, the very lands the twins had mapped only months earlier. What were they doing in that land of sweltering heat, so hot that even svelte human youths like the twins had found it nigh unto intolerable?
"What do you make of it, Taitos?" Balan asked of his host at the manor in Elysion. Actually he had already studied the analysis the nobleman and former soldier had sent to the high command. Written at his own initiative, it might easily have been ignored by the army brass and mostly was. Somehow it reached the attention of the Hands of Commonwealth who sent the giant to see his good friend Taitos Klarendes, Count of the Eastern March.
"Getting forgetful are we in our old age, friend Balandur? You ask as if you hadn't read the analysis I forwarded to those clods in the capital."
"Of course I read it, studied it in fact, unofficially, which is why I have to ask now. As you know, the relationship of the Hands with the Army is rather strained right now."
"Not surprising, given the reports I read in the news sheets that one of the Hands recently killed two regimental commanders west of the river. Due to their corruption, a badly constructed barracks collapsed without warning, killing, what was it, twenty-two sleeping soldiers?"
"Thirty-two. And the collapse injured many more, all trained soldiers. Such a cruel waste of young lives. A couple were within days of their discharge dates and looking forward to starting families. Actually we were glad the culprits resisted arrest, and this time that is not just a convenient fiction. They really did fight. Fools, thinking their military skills would let them overcome a Hand. Who is promoting such men to regimental rank these days? Bigger fools, no doubt."
"Actually it was just as well, Taitos. Their assault let my colleague um, dispense with the formalities, as we say in the trade."
"I can imagine." the count chuckled. He then launched into his analysis of what was afoot.
"In this I see the hand of the Adversary or of his Dark Prophet."
"You always do, Taitos" the giant said with a grin.
"And so far events have borne me out." he gave back eyebrows raised.
The giant nodded to concede the point.
"Our foes are doing an end-run around the entire Commonwealth! Gods the audacity of it. A great strategic stroke really. They enlisted the centaurs, who were not a threat to us where they were, so far south and west. The centaurs marched north into the Hot Lands, not to dwell there but only as a path to the Eastern Plains, their true objective. The Eastern Plains lie at a considerably higher elevation than the Western Plains, so they would be cool enough for the centaurs as a homeland."
"Once again our great enemy seeks to deprive us of our best cavalry country here in the east and turn it to his own use. Their plan must be, that once they seize the plain, there would be an extended lull in the fighting, lasting a decade or two, while the centaurs spread out and take possession of this land and increase their population, no longer constrained by the low productivity of their old country to the west. In favorable conditions their eggs hatch quickly and the creatures breed young. Given a decade or two, we could be facing five or six times the number that arrives here on the plains. Meanwhile, the steep western slopes of the mountains would serve as a wall to protect them from any counter-attacks till they are ready."
"Make no mistake. This is a well-though out and long-term plan. Someone on the other side is using his head for once. Unfortunately for us."
"Eventually the enemy will attack our heartland from their new eastern dominions, with both centaur cavalry and those great masses of ill-trained infantry he always throws at his foes. Still you would think he would train a proper army after loosing three hundred thousand in that stupid attack on the Great Southern Forest.
"It would not have worked with three million. Or at least, I think it would not. He does have three million and a whole lot more. It is our good fortune that he does not have the logistics to provide for such a force. Any army that large would be a like a horde of locusts quickly stripping the country of all resources. Nor could they move fast enough on foot to outpace the hunger their own bellies generated."
"Yes," Balan agreed. "Only the Commonwealth fields so large a force, counting the militia."
"What is our order of battle, in rough terms Balan?" Aodh asked, the first time he had spoken up. "Maybe Taitos already knows but, I don't have a clue."
"Our regular army is six hundred thousand, one-quarter cavalry. Plus fifty thousand border troops and constabulary. I don't count the city watch forces who are police rather than military. Ready reserves of recently discharged soldiers, two hundred thousand. Militia, well, if everyone musters on the same day, over ten million, virtually all infantry. The militia fight in formation armed with spears and short swords interspersed with other formations armed with crossbows. As to sending an expeditionary force beyond our borders, the biggest I could imagine is about a two hundred fifty thousand. Remember a lot of the Army is support troops, training establishments, arsenals, and frontier garrisons. And the militia fights at home. Which is why we could never take the offensive and invade their lands."
The pretty face of the young wir frowned in concentration as he offered an observation.
"I know I am no soldier, but I think the enemy could still rely on his overwhelming numbers to wear us down, couldn't he? Maybe he doesn't have the logistics to support a force of three million all at once. Suppose he sends armies of one or two hundred thousand at us, again and again and again in a war of attrition?"
A pained look crossed the count's face.
"That is an appalling thought, Aodh. The gods forbid it comes to that. Even if every battle ends in a tactical victory for us, the cumulative slaughter of our own people would be tremendous. Unless the druids help. Which I expect they would."
"I agree. The druids tip the balance in our favor. Which is why we are always happy to do them a favor, like escorting a recruit to the Forest, or putting one of our swift courier boats at their disposition."
Which is what Balan had done for Dahl and Owain had done for the dwarves at Stone Mountain.
"That is why I suspect some attack will soon be launched at the druids who are so few in number anyway. How many are they? No more than a score and most of them still journeymen druids. Tremendously powerful yes, and clever, but they have to sleep and eat. If it were me, I would try poison. Catch them out at some festival. Their kitchens back home might be secure but what about all the taverns and inns in the town or the grills and food stands on the festival grounds. Security for them would not be tight. "
"You have a devious mind, my friend."
"Comes with the territory."
"Also, and keep this quiet, Taitos, and you too my pretty little wir, our Watchers tell us the centaurs will soon be joined by a force of Frost Giants."
"Wow!" the boy said breathlessly. "I wouldn't care to go against one of those monsters."
"Sound thinking. I know you are brave and nearly three times as strong as you look, little one, but you would not stand a chance."
"Oh, I don't know, my dear Balan," the young wir countered in a supercilious tone. "I can see myself lying in wait in panther form, belly pressed to a branch of a tree the giant must pass under. I drop down and take his eyes, maybe tear out his jugular. Then scramble down and fade into the woods."
"Get trampled is more likely. Actually it just might work, once. Don't try it if you don't have to. Run away and live to fight and to love another day, eh Taitos."
"I agree wholeheartedly, especially that part about loving another day. Come here Aodh."
Smiling the young wir slid his nude body next to the count displacing the ginger cat Esmeralda from his lap. She stalked off as if it were her own idea to leave in the first place. Balan watched enviously. Would he ever get another chance with the boy? Aodh was one of the two sweetest lovers he had ever had, him and Dahl. Not just for their incomparable beauty but because they were the only young males who could take his immense cock all the way. With this boy, he could let himself go. For all his centuries of experience, to his own surprise had given his heart away to this strange boy. Klarendes was not the only one in love with the young wir.
The giant soon left the pair to their own devices and went to a tavern in search of company. He wound up in bed with a local youth he had met before, a certain brawny young carpenter named Arik. Ran had taught him well.
Chapter 36. Land of the Wirs
The three friends took up their conversation the next morning.
"If only we could take the initiative. The enemy prepares stroke after stroke against us. We defend, push back, then wait for the next attack, the next war. Balan, is there any chance of striking at their heart? Take our their leaders?"
"Realistically, no. We know so little about the lands to the east. The Commonwealth has never had any real commerce with those regions, so we cannot infiltrate spies as merchants. Nor as priests. The Dark Prophet has suppressed all competing cults. And don't bother to ask, Aodh, they wouldn't let a minstrel circulate freely, nor anyone else. You need papers to leave your native district. That much we do know.
We don't even have decent maps of those vast lands. A strike force would be going in blind with no idea where to strike. Mission impossible."
Hmmm," Aodh began musingly. "What about sending in wirs to gather intelligence, before you send a strike force against their rulers. Here is how I see this happening:"
"We infiltrate in our animal forms, living entirely off the land. Memorize landmarks, routes, and the location of their nerve centers. As predators, we are pretty good at recon. As for intel on their society and government and such, first we sneak around and listen in on conversations and tavern chatter. In our human forms, we could seduce informants and subtly question them during pillow talk. Alternatively we snatch informants, people who won't be missed for a while, not till we clear the area. We force whatever information we can them. Again as predators, we wirs can be very intimidating and persuasive."
As was his wont, Aodh used the 'v' sound instead of the 'w' sound at the beginning of 'wir'.
"What would you do with these coerced informants afterwards, Aodh?" the count asked his young lover. The boy blinked then replied:
"Kill them. What else? We could not afford to let them talk. The hard part is hiding the bodies, which is something we predators are not very good at."
"That is cold, my young friend, very very cold."
Balan chuckled.
"Hard to believe isn't it, Taitos. There he sits, your pretty little boy toy, all of five foot zero, small, skinny, smooth muscled, and glabrous, with the face of an angel. And yet, he is a stone cold killer."
"As are we all, Balan, as are we all," the count reminded him.
The giant could see that his friend was troubled by the implications of the wir's proposal. It meant that Aodh would go off, leaving the count behind, not only bereft but unable to protect the boy he loved. Klarendes had far too many responsibilities to go traipsing off into the unknown for months on end.
"Also, I have been away from home far too long. I need to get back."
The boy had not meant to do so, but his ill-chosen words wounded Klarendes keenly. The nobleman had tears in his eyes as he asked in an anguished voice:
"I thought this was your home now, Aodh. Do you mean to say that you intend to leave me?"
"No! No! Damn me for speaking without thinking, Taitos. No, my home is here in Elysion with you. That will never change, not by my choice anyway. No, what lies back there is not my home, not any longer. But it is still my home-land, the land of my birth. All that I am, I owe to those people."
"I have to go there, first to make a full report of the situation and to get debriefed on what we all have done to thwart our adversary. The second reason is this mission I proposed. I am the only one who could put it into operation. My final reason for going back now, is to say good-bye, to tell family and friends how happy I am in my new home in the west, a home I share with a very special person. That's you Taitos. It will always be you."
The two lovers fell into each others arms in a chaste embrace, tears of joy running down their cheeks. Balan too had to keep blinking his eyes and dabbing at them with a cloth. That boy had so much love in him, and in so tiny a body. For once Balan didn't mind being thought a sentimentalist. There is a time and a place for everything, and for these two fine people, this was their time. This was their place.
"More power to you." he whispered under his breath.
When all had recovered their equanimity, they resumed making plans.
"Would you bring the twins in on this, to make the maps?" Balan asked the wir.
"Yes, but I do not want them to infiltrate enemy territory. Our operatives will pass their observations back to the twins who in turn will pass them on to, well, to whomever. That is your department."
"If you were planning on using them, why then did you leave the twins and Ran back in Dalnot, Balan?"
"They are waiting there to go over final proofs of their printed maps, which are coming by secure courier from the nearest town with a print shop good enough for that kind of detailed work, especially those contour lines the twins invented to show elevation above sea level."
"Based on readings from those small metal boxes called barometers. Did you know that the devices measure altitude above sea level based on differences in air pressure? It seems air actually has weight. The artificers and natural philosophers are turning out all sorts of mechanical marvels these days."
"Whom do we send on this mission. Which wirs besides yourself?"
"My own people. We haven't done much yet in this great struggle for the fate of the world. Our leaders sent me west to scout, to learn about this threat our shamans sensed. Find out what it might be. And to see what they might do to help. Well, supporting this mission is the best contribution they could possibly make. I intend to make them see that."
"Oh, and I will need a druid and a unicorn too. Dahl and Merry."
"Why a druid and why Dahl, you might ask? Sticking our necks out so far, we need a druid for magical backup. Who better to work with me than Dahl? The unicorn can relay intel from his station with the twins. On his last mission, Dahl himself got out of range. We cannot let that happen again."
"It is a hell of a concept." Balan said, sounding enthused. "I will put it to both of them. This will count as Dahl's third challenge. Hell, his fourth and fifth as well, really."
"Just one more thing. Do brontotheres live in your far off land?" Klarendes asked shrewdly.
"Too many to count. We get along with them famously. Their very presence drives large carnivores away, protecting our livestock and children."
The count nodded to the giant. "Brontotheres. That will bring Dahl in for sure."
And so it did.
After an arduous journey around the eastern end of the lands held by the barbarians, two weary travelers arrived at Aodh's homeland, a place that went by the utterly prosaic name of Wirland, pronounced Virland by the locals.
Aodh's country was just as he had described it when they had first met: a geographical gem, a hidden valley far to the east, beyond nearly impassable mountains and jungles. Nearly impassible but they had done it and coming up from the southwest, the hard way, against the grain of the land. They entered the hidden valley through its single point of entry a hidden path leading off a logging road and then across the mountain barrier.
It was much larger than Klarendes' secluded valley. Thirty times that size. A small country in fact. Much of it was uncultivated, deliberately left wild. As you might expect, the chief recreations of the inhabitants of Wirland were hunting, trapping, and fishing. That was true even of the majority who were not shape shifters themselves. They too liked to hunt with bow and arrow or boar spear. Most extended families had at least one and often two members who were wirs.
The inhabitants farmed like any other rural folk, supporting themselves with agriculture horticulture and especially animal husbandry. These people liked their meat. Aodh's people raised goats, pigs, rabbits, and ducks by preference, disdaining the flesh of the chicken as too dry. No one bothered raising cattle when deer and antelope were for the taking in the woods.
The travelers sought out the authorities who quickly agreed to Aodh's plan and sent out a call for volunteers.
With that settled for the time being, Aodh and Dahl had time to socialize. First there was a family reunion where the young wir renewed ties with those he had left behind. For security reasons, he had not communicated with anyone at home the whole time except for a couple of official reports. Aodh even got to meet the girls who had borne his children and the youths who had married them later. Aodh neither expected nor sought any role in the bringing up his natural children, which would not have been allowed anyway as potentially too confusing for the kids. They had their moms and dads and that was that.
After that came a grand tour of the valley, where they were greeted warmly everywhere they went. All who met them assumed, without the need for an announcement, that they were lovers. How could it be otherwise? Here they were, two impossibly pretty youths with trim little bodies which were totally on display since the boys went about nude, often hand in hand, speaking volubly, sometimes hugging and kissing. And such a nice looking couple too, everyone agreed.
More than any people except the elves, the males of Wirland approved of same gender relationships and sought them out unapologetically. No doubt many of the locals yearned for a tryst with this exotic stranger. Comely young elves were rare in those parts. Alas, he looked to be out of reach.
And yes there were brontotheres in that land. Several hundred in fact, as many as the restricted range could comfortably support. The wirs had long since come up with the way to keep the beasts out of their farmlands. They dug ditches too wide for even these giants to step across and too deep for them to climb in an out off. The outer walls of these ditches were gentle slopes, lest the animals be trapped or break their legs falling. The ditches provided the beasts with water to drink and to bathe in. The inner walls of the ditches were just that, a vertical face that kept the brontotheres from going farther. For all their strength even they could not push over walls buttressed by the entire weight of the country behind them. The happy result was that humans and beasts lived in peaceful coexistence and usually stayed out of each other's way.
The young druid could not pass up another opportunity for a ride on a brontothere. It was such a heady experience, to sit astride the neck of an animal eight feet high at the shoulder and weighing nine tons and to guide it where he wanted to go. Being the courteous lad that he was, Dahl preferred to ask politely rather than to compel. Brontotheres were not sentient exactly, but they were more intelligent and more self-aware than a canine or even a cat. Just don't tell that to Esmeralda.
Dahl was surprised to see Aodh swing up onto another of the beasts. With an insufferably smug look on his pretty face, the wir boy explained that he and Manda, as he called his beast, were old friends. It seems Aodh had been riding brontotheres since he was a kid.
"They are friendly and allow us to ride them. I think they find it as much fun as we do. It is part of our growing up. Here in Wirland, we love our brontotheres. Having said that I have to admit that we are along for the ride but strictly as passengers. We cannot get them to go where we would. You are something else, a true rider of brontotheres.
The ponderous beasts usually took things at a slow walk, grazing and browsing, but when they wanted to they could really move. Their best pace was the charge, a fast shuffle that could nearly match the speed of a galloping horse. However, the brontotheres themselves were too heavy to gallop, a gait where all four feet left the ground at the same time, if only briefly.
"This is amazing," Dahl marveled after he had had a few days to explore this new land. "Your farmlands are like an island surrounded by an octagonal ring of ditches which not only protect them but supply water and carry boats around the town. And the only permanent crossings are foot bridges which would break under the weight of a brontothere."
"Yes," Aodh nodded smiling, proud of the ingenuity of his people. "we carry heavy traffic on bridges which we swing across at need. The giant beasts have long since realized that they can never get over to our lush croplands, but our ditches and canals allow easy them access for drinking and bathing. I think they realize that we build our the ditches the way they do to spare them injury. Hence the beasts are careful not to soil the waters with their dung."
"In any event there are authentic accounts of brontotheres coming to the protection of children against wolves and tigers. Usually they have only to issue a challenge to the predator. If that is ignored they gore or trample the miscreant and wait patiently for a human to come take charge of the child. They are almost sentient in that respect."
"Then there is the story of how my people once freed a mother brontothere and her calf from a bog. We dragged the calf out of the muck with ropes. The mother was too big for our unaided efforts. Fortunately the brontotheres were cooperative enough to let us hitch them by their horns to drag the mother to safety."
"And you never hunt them, of course." It was a question.
"Gods forbid we should. Not only are they benign, they are our totemic beasts."
"Not cats?" Dahl asked, puzzled.
"How could it be cats?" Aodh smirked. "We ourselves are cats. Our totem must therefore be something else. Something powerful."
"Hmmm. Could they be my totem as well?" he asked growing excited.
"I don't see why not?"
That brought a huge smile to Dahl's face. He actually got giddy thinking about it. Aodh chuckled as he repeated to the druid an oft told tale among his people.
One time, a youth who had just crossed a footbridge saw an old bull gazing longingly at the succulent fruits and vegetables growing just out of reach. With the mischief upon him the boy teased the animal with comical gestures. Maybe brontotheres do not understand language, but they know when they were being tweaked by a young whippersnapper of a human. The clever animal scooped the youth up on his horns, careful not to hurt him, walked to the middle of the ditch and dropped the boy in with a splash. Then the beast and several others gave out the rumbling sound the wirs have always considered their form of laughter. Even the boy saw the humor of it and burst out laughing.
The next day, nice boy that he was, he brought a sack of cabbages for the old bull who let the boy feed him by hand, nine tons of brontothere standing companionably next to a slender youth.
"My people were mightily impressed with your tale of how you lead the charge of a herd of brontotheres against an army of Amazons. They are calling you the 'Master of the Brontotheres'."
Dahl just shook his head in wonderment and amusement. He was really glad now they had made the long journey. And they already had seven volunteers, enough for their intel operation. None of Aodh cohort of agents was interested, the five who had made it back home. From the summit of all of his nearly nineteen years and playing the grizzled veteran to the hilt, Aodh had dismissed the youthful volunteers as "all balls and no brains."
"I am sure they all volunteered just so they could get laid. Otherwise boys their age would have to wait for access to females. But our law prescribes that we preserve their blood lines, so they will be allowed to mate with three girls and get them with child before they leave."
"And just how old were you, Aodh, when you were picked for your mission." Dahl asked shrewdly.
"Ouch! OK, I was fifteen, but remember, my people mature sooner than most."
"As have our ballsy brainless wonders, I don't doubt."
"By the way, Dahl, speaking of preserving blood lines... "
The young druid cut him off.
"I know where this is going. So let me tell you in no uncertain terms: No! In fact, don't even think about setting me up like your volunteers. I will neither accept the honor nor perform the service. I could not perform it really. I mean, if I wilted when I was taken to bed by a fabulously beautiful Amazon queen, what hope could your girls have?"
"You have a point, Dahl."
That evening, at the appointed hour, Dahl reached forth with his mind speech, confirming that the twins, Ran, and the unicorn had set themselves up in the safe house they would occupy for the entirety of the operation. In a far off land beyond the territories of the barbarians, agents of the druids had bought an old farm with extensive orchards, quite off the beaten track for privacy. Lush pastures and purchased grain would provide for Merry. The twins and Ran would draw their supplies from a nearby town whose shops could easily meet their needs, unlike a village which did not have sufficient surplus to provide for an extended stay of three always hungry youths plus their visitors.
The boys had set up a work area in the main room. They would share a bedroom and a single bed that Ran knocked together from old bed frames he found in the house. No feather mattresses this trip, just large sacks stuffed with straw and laid crosswise across the ropes.
Their cover story was admittedly thin. The twins were supposedly journeyman horticulturalists trying their luck at reviving the local orchards by grafting exotic stock to the rather ordinary trees growing on the farm. When he finally got to the farm himself, Dahl would have no trouble making these grafted cuttings flourish, producing superior fruit and nuts. The success of their new agriculture venture satisfied the curious and their promise to share cuttings with the locals satisfied the envious.
A gratuity for the local shire reeve ensured that the representative of the law in those parts would discourage unwelcome attention and shoo away unwanted visitors.
All was set therefore for the launch of the first offensive operation against the Adversary and his Dark Prophet.
[Continued in Part 9]
Author's Note
If you have enjoyed this story and others like it, consider making a donation to the Nifty Archive. It is so easy. They take credit cards.
This is my first pure fantasy tale for the Nifty Archive. It is entirely fictional, with no resemblance intended to any person living or dead.
Readers who like these stories might want to try my two series 'Daphne Boy' and 'Naked Prey' in the Gay/Historical section of the Archive. My 'Jungle Boy' series of Hollywood tales is posted in the Gay/Authoritarian section. The new series 'Andrew Jackson High relates the trials and tribulations of five of its gay students. For links to these and other stories, look on the list of Prolific Authors on the Archive.
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