Elf-Boy's Friends 2
Frost Giants Part II
by George Gauthier
[The further adventures of characters from the novel 'Elf-Boy and Friends']
Chapter 5. The Long March
The Hot Lands were a vast grassy basin lying near the equator much lower in altitude than the stretch of country abandoned by the giants. What little rain fell there mostly sank into the sandy soil or drained along ephemeral streams till it reached sinkholes or evaporation ponds. The twins' maps marked the few perennial watercourses. Waterholes dug years earlier for the centaurs were lifesavers. Surface water sources could never had provided for six hundred Frost Giants.
To cope with the oppressive heat the column traveled from dawn to mid morning then from late afternoon into the evening. The straw hats perched atop the twins Jemsen and Karel might have looked silly, but they did the job. Soon the lady giants were at work plaiting the native grasses into reasonable facsimiles of the twins' headgear.
Just behind the vanguard marched the command group: Artor Klarendes, journeyman Hand of the Commonwealth, Oddr Bjarnson, civic leader of the Frost Giants, and Harald Sigurdsen, their war chief. They did not anticipate danger, but if a threat emerged, Artor would stand on the raised shields of his two guards to survey the situation and direct streams or balls of fire at the enemy.
During the midday layovers, crews stretched white tarps between the supply carts. Spears stuck into the earth propped up the sunshade high enough for the giants to stand. That afforded welcome protection from the sun while open sides let breezes in. During their halts Artor invoked his powers as a firecaster to chill the water in the butts the giants drank from, dispersing the extracted heat to the atmosphere. Cool water gave everyone on the march a psychological lift. The water carried in their personal gourds was wet but warm.
From long experience in their travels across the continent the giants were aware of the dangers of dehydration and elevated body temperature. They paired off in a buddy system to watch each other for signs of heat stress.
Even the twins wilted, though they were much better able to shed heat thanks to their slender bodies and their superb conditioning. Marching skin-clad or in the nude as they did let the winds reach every part of their sweaty skin promoting cooling from both evaporation and vasodilation.
Near the midpoint of the crossing they came across a well with a wind powered pump that drew sweet water from an aquifer far below. The giants refilled their water butts, bathed, washed clothes and rested for two days, glad for the break and reluctant to push on past this veritable oasis.
"Our trek this time is easier than our last in these parts," Jemsen observed to his identical twin. "Back then the only shade we had was our sombreros or a sarong rigged as sunshade during a halt."
"By the way, how are you doing, there Finn. You looked a little green about the gills there before the halt."
"Yes, the heat really got to me this morning. When will we leave this green hell?"
"I think I can say with complete confidence that we are more than halfway across the Hot Lands. And since we are on a course southwestward, moving away from the Equator every day, temperatures should start to fall. Help is on the way. Hang in there Finn."
The young giant sighed. "You really know the heat is getting to you when it just too damn hot at night to make love to boys as sexy as yourselves."
Just then Oddr, the leader of the Frost Giants, upended his water gourd over Finn's head remarking:
"Anyone who would turn down boys as exquisite as Jemsen and Karel must be going soft in the head."
"Thank you, sir. I really needed that. I had already drunk my own gourd empty but was reluctant to step into the sun to go over to one of the water butts."
"Now that your head is clear, why don't you refill both our gourds?"
As Finn bestirred himself to do just that, Oddr hunkered down to confer with his guides. Their assessment of the progress of the march was heartening. It really looked like they would get through virtually unscathed thanks to their preparations, their equipment, their march discipline and camp organization, and the maps and guidance from the twins. Credit was due to Finn too since he backed the twins up on their scouts, the trio sometimes getting out of sight of the main body due to terrain.
"We are obliged to Lords Zalor and Klarendes too. Old campaigners both, they gave us good advice on organizing the march, setting up camp, field sanitation, and distribution of supplies among the carts. We look like a proper little army on campaign."
"You can also thank Finn for tinkering with that water pump to reengage it with the windmill." Jemsen pointed out. "The centaurs undid the linkage deliberately when they left so as not to waste water pumping away to no purpose. They may have expected others of their species to follow in a second wave."
Oddr nodded.
"Anyway, with so much water available we had a chance to clean up and to get the stink out of our clothes. As you know we Frost Giants are fastidious about hygiene. Comes from living in closed up houses during the winters in our homeland. Going about naked as you do means no sweaty clothes to launder, not even those sarongs, but I noticed that even sweating freely as you do, you never smell of it. I have to wonder why."
"I can answer that sir," Finn remarked returning with the refilled water gourds. "I noticed that myself, living as close to them as I do. It seems that when their friend the druid Dahlderon used healing magic to extend their lifespans and their youth, he turned the sebaceous glands in their bodies into ordinary sweat glands, which produce only water and salt and none of the oils that can turn bad and smell sour. So, like the elves, the twins always smell sweet."
"Remarkable."
"Having so little body odor also makes us hard to track by smell." Karel noted. "That is handy for guys like us who have faced the Dark Prophet's Trackers twice now. They never give up once they catch a scent."
"Trackers?" Finn asked.
Oddr spoke up. "I have heard of those foul creatures, Finn. Trackers are dire wolves turned into demon-spawn by dark magic. Reputedly very hard to kill."
"To deal with trackers we coated our arrowheads with a silver lacquer which burns their ensorcelled flesh. I once killed a Tracker outright by putting an arrow through his heart, but that was partly a lucky shot."
"Partly?" Finn asked.
"What I mean is that even with all his dodging and jinking I was sure to hit the creature but just where the arrow lodged was a matter of luck. Now if he held still, well I would have sent my arrow through his eye into his brain. And that was before druidic magic strengthened our unerring sense of direction. So we don't miss though we do have to practice like anyone else. Also the magic doubled our strength so we can pull a more powerful bow with greater range and punch."
Eventually the column reached the norther tip of the Western Mountains and made camp near a spring of cool water, runoff from the mountains. Artor ignited the watch fires with a gesture after making sure they had been laid within wide circles of scraped earth to prevent wildfires. True, he could always snuff out a runaway fire if it came to it. But there was no sense though in tolerating sloppy field craft. He might not always be at hand.
Besides, Artor liked to circulate, to get to know some of the huge folk he was escorting to their new land. He wanted them to get to know him too. Artor had a gift for putting people at their ease just by being himself, without the false camaraderie of those who only played at being leaders. Yes, he was in overall command of the march but he hoped people would do what he told them because they themselves wanted to do it. Just by being himself he won their trust. Like his father Taitos, Artor Klarendes was a natural.
After a stay of three days at the spring, they set off again. The twins decided to dispense with the sombreros which went into a baggage cart. That actually helped those at the head of the column to keep the scouts in sight. Nothing stands out against a landscape like the cornsilk yellow of a blond boy's hair. Just as well; their tawny hides, so much like that of the tawny panther that dwelt in those regions blended in with the grassy terrain.
The going got easier as temperatures fell from next to impossible to merely oppressive. The ground underfoot was firm enough for the baggage carts but not baked hard by the sun. Unlike the Frost Giants who wore sandals, the twins went unshod as well as bare-ass naked, but the calluses on their soles protected their feet nearly as well as moccasins.
With cooler weather, the mid-day breaks became a time for fun as well as rest and shelter from the burning sun as the twins and Finn flipped their toy, the so-called Zinger around. The game or sport might have been invented to display the delectable body of the youthful human male at its kinetic best, as the boys ran around, jumped, dodged, stretched, reached, and tumbled across the grass, their sweaty nude bodies glistening in the sunlight, the energetic activity accompanied by smiles, laughter, and general grab-ass silliness. To their audience under sunshades the effect was totally erotic.
"Anyone else but the twins carrying on like that," Oddr observed, I'd call them a pair of cock teases, but not those two. Your cock tease has a mean streak in him, and those two definitely do not. They're nice kids. Good kids. Terrific kids. Impossible to dislike."
Heads nodded. Harald added. "It's almost like they have a second magical gift -- irresistible charm."
"Even if it not magical it is indeed a gift."
"I'll say. Those two twinks can charm the trews off me any day!" a voice called out. "Walking wet dreams, the both of them."
"Don't be daft, Arn. You're much too big. Given their narrow hips you would rip their quims to shreds."
"There are other ways to swive a boy than penetrating his holes. Poking between the thighs for instance and some forms of oral service. Nothing keeps you from petting and feeling and caressing a boy either or pleasuring him in other ways and vice-versa."
After the game the trio joined their audience in the relative cool of the shade. Finn plunged his whole body into the lower pool to cool off. (The camp drew its water from the upper pool.) The twins simply poured water from gourds over their heads, letting it run down from the crowns of their heads, down their backs and bellies, to sluice through rear cleavages or divide around the prows of their proud cocks. Looking around twins only then realized that they and their game had been the center of the crowd's rapt attention.
"What did I tell you." Oddr said. "They were playing with that toy out in the sun purely for the fun of it, not to titillate an audience. Sexy, funny, brave, and beautiful. What is there not to like about these kids?"
Quick on the uptake and taking Oddr's remark for his cue, Karel swept his hands down along his body and quipped: "All this and brains too!"
"Ha! Just look at those open and honest faces -- so utterly without of guile."
"Well I wouldn't go that far." Artor said. "Look, I know what you mean, and the twins and I are very good friends, practically family. In fact the twins have a standing invitation to Elysion. We are always hanging out together -- we and bunch of other great guys like Dahl and Aodh. Jemsen and Karel are good people, the very best I know. Person to person, what you see is what you get: friendly, cheerful, loquacious, inquisitive, not to mention sexy, if that is to your taste. But don't take the twins for a pair of innocents."
"They are no strangers to cunning and guile when hunting big game or fighting enemies. Just two instances: the twins ambushed the Dark Riders, killing the mounts of the riders in front causing a pile up of crushed and broken bodies both human and equine which the twins pin-cushioned with their war arrows. Another time, they picked off the officers in the army that the city of Brax had sent against the Stone Mountain dwarves."
"Your point is well-taken."
One day the main column briefly lost sight of their scouts. As twins and Finn circled a knob hill, Karel stopped short having come face to face with a tawny panther. No wir, this was a pure predator. With his bow unstrung all Karel had was his kukri. Finn took charge.
"Boys, fix your gaze on the cat. Stare it down. Now sidle over towards me till our bodies nearly touch. Draw your kukris and hold them at the ready. Try to look as large and imposing as you can. Let's see if we can bluff our way out of this. When I start, join me in roaring and waving your arms and stomping your feet, but don't get any closer to the cat."
Their bluff worked. Startled, intimidated, and chagrined, the cat snarled, turned, and ran off. The theatrical roars of the trio turned into genuine laughter. Oh the three of them would surely have killed the panther with their blades, if it had come to that, but at the cost of nasty wounds from claws or fangs. The Giants had two Healers among them, but their magic was weak. Frost Giants are the least magically gifted of the sentient races on Haven. Just as well then that the creature ran off. Besides, panthers were as beautiful as they were deadly, and it so happened that the twins were best friends with one.
As the column headed southwest across the plains they encountered the nomads. Now by heliograph and riders the Commonwealth had sent word ahead that the Frost Giants had no intention of settling the Plains and would pay a reasonable toll for crossing their lands, trampling their pastures, drawing their water, and, despite good march discipline, generally making a big mess at their camps. Six hundred Frost Giants will do that.
As the column reached each new tribe, Artor stepped forward, looking official in his silks and leathers and weapons, and triggered the small magic that identified him as a Hand of the Commonwealth. News of their march traveled ahead of the column so none of the tribes was surprised and all were gratified by the generosity of the giants. Maybe Frost Giants weren't fully house-broken, but they weren't stingy either.
One day, as the column lagged behind, the trio of scouts approached a water hole at the base of a steep hill. Unfortunately they were not the only visitors. A pair of slash bears, young males from the same litter and nearly full grown, had got their first, drunk their fill and settled in the tall grass. Now slash bears are fierce, ill-tempered, territorial, and they just don't share well. So the bears got to their feet and roared at these two-legged interlopers.
Alas bruins do not bluff at all; they would take a bluff as a challenge. (If all else fails you might try to play dead. Bears do not eat carrion.) That was not an option in this case. The trio, with Finn in the lead, had nearly stepped on the pair of bruins. True to their name, the closer bear slashed Finn's right leg out from under him. He fell heavily losing his grip on his spear. The bear reared on its hind legs, looking fierce but unthinkingly exposing its vulnerable vitals. The twins strung their bows and drove arrows into its heart dropping it. The second bear stayed on all fours and charged. Knowing their arrows would just bounce off its skull or get lodged in its shoulder muscles, Jemsen grabbed Finn's spear.
"Karel, brace the butt of the spear on that boulder. We'll let the beast run onto it."
Now facing the charge of a slash bear with only a pointed stick in your hands is usually not recommended. It worked for the twins only because their unerring aim did as well with a spearhead as with an arrow. The boys stood their ground as the beast surged forward, roaring its hate at the humans who had killed its litter mate. Thanks to his speed and quick reaction time, Jemsen was able to keep the spearhead centered of the bear's chest. The impetus of the beast's charge drove half the shaft into his body, stopping only when the spearhead lodged in one of its vertebrae, ending its forward motion. The slash bear sank to the ground dead.
"Whoa! That was too close, Jemsen."
"Tell me about it, Karel. I was up front, you know," quickly adding. "But I couldn't have done it without you, brother. It took the both of us. "
"Uh, fellas, I don't want to interrupt your mutual admiration society, but I am bleeding rather badly over here. Can I get a little help?"
"Oops, sorry Finn. I'll use your belt as a tourniquet while Karel runs back for a Healer."
It wasn't long before help arrived. The Healer could not restore full function to the badly torn limb but her magic did well enough that, in time, the leg would heal as good as new. Meanwhile, Finn would ride a cart.
The giants made camp around the water hole, dragging the bears away to be skinned. Bear meat is actually quite tasty when roasted and with two carcasses, most of the giants got at least a bite. The skins would be turned into rugs. Artor was proud of how his friends had saved the day.
"You two are quite the heroes, you know."
"Affecting a blase attitude, Karel said.
"Sure, sure. Been there; done that. Heroics is what we twins do for a living."
"Get serious, Karel. The giants mean to make you their Friend."
"Giants have Friends?" Karel blurted out.
"I heard that," Finn growled with mock severity.
"No, no, I meant the institution."
Smiling reassuringly Finn added:
"I know you did, Karel, and yes, we do have the institution of Friendship, as you call it. I think you and Jemsen are going to be the first humans ever to bear tattoos as elf-friends, dwarf-friends, and giant-friends, all three. You'll go down in history!"
"I think we already have." Karel quipped.
"Ha! Now you are just joshing. Seriously, this is a distinct honor."
"Indeed it is." Oddr added. "And quite a rare one."
"Probably because we Frost Giants seldom need anyone else's help." Harald Sigurdsen observed blandly, which drew a genial chuckle from all within earshot.
After that came a simple ceremony with speeches mostly in the common language for the sake of the twins. Oddr explained that the honor was being conferred not only for their bravery in saving Finn's life but also for their key role in the Long March. As guides and scouts the twins were always out in front constantly exposed to danger.
"Constantly exposed is right!" Harald quipped. The war-chief had a knack for one-liners.
The giants had a unique approach to tattooing. With their big hands they could not do it the usual way one prick at a time. Instead they used a kind of cylindrical stamp armed with many pins at the end and dipped in ink. Pressed against the flesh, all it took was a single thump with a mallet to incise the design into the left shoulder of the heroes.
"Yikes!" the twins both yelled, but the Healer soon put things right, a task well within her power.
The giants crowded around the twins to congratulate them. Frost Giants are very touchy feely, so their hands were all over the delectable nude bodies of the young heroes, petting, stroking, rubbing chests and bellies, squeezing buns, delving into rear cleavages, that sort of thing. The stimulation was enough for both twins to get all tingly down there, though not enough to bring on an erection, which would have been a faux-pas in the circumstances.
Chapter 6. Rendezvous
Finn thanked his lucky stars that he had become good friends with the twins. Jemsen and Karel had put themselves in deadly peril to save his life. They might have left him and run away leaving Finn to distract the second slash bear. Two slender nude youths challenging a monster while armed with nothing more than a pointy stick was distinctly bad odds. Finn had seen fear in the twins' eyes but their faces had been set in the calm of veteran fighters, warriors who had learned to clamp down on their emotions during combat to focus on what had to be done and how they were going to do it. Yes, these twins might be impossibly cute and boyish, but they had grit.
That night, as usual, the twins snuggled up to Finn. Maybe Finn could not put his weight on his injured leg but everything else was in working order. Yet their lovemaking that night was tender and gentle, more about love than lust, more about touching and physical contact than orgasms, and more about contentment than excitement. Finn loved to stroke, pet and hug the hard bodies of young males in preference to the soft voluptuous physiques of females. He particularly loved waking up in the morning to find the twins asleep in his bed, their bare limbs entwined with his, their angelic faces relaxed in sleep.
Finn realized that what had started as infatuation had turned into something more serious. The two humans had become close friends, people he wanted to spend time with and not just to make love. The twins were good people.
On another such night Karel laid his head on Finn's chest, listening to the beat of the strong heart of the young giant.He suddenly sat up with an uncertain look on his face:
"Er... Finn, something is wrong. Either your pulse is irregular or I am feeling two heartbeats."
"We Frost Giants actually have three hearts. For starters we have the same four-chambered heart as humans lodged in the middle of the chest. We also have a pair of auxiliary two-chambered hearts much lower down in our pelvic region which help pump the blood from the legs up to the main heart. That way we prevent dangerously high blood pressure."
The trek grew easier as the giants were now in a gentler land, one still fairly hot but nothing like the Hot Lands.
"How far now to the rendezvous, Karel?" Oddr asked one day.
"It should be just over the horizon, sir."
"Look there. Such an odd bird! Finn remarked pointing a bit west of south.
"Oh, that is not a bird. It is a box kite. Army scouts ride kites to get a better view of the terrain from on high."
"What kind of reckless fool would soar into the sky on a kite?"
"Fools like Jemsen and me. We did that as army scouts. And for your information, once you get over your fear it is a hell of lot of fun. There you are two hundred feet up, riding the winds like a hawk, soaring above earthbound mortals, master of all you survey."
"That's fun? I am sorry sir. Did I say reckless? I meant crazy." Finn pronounced.
"Well, we were very young in those days. Artor, why don't you signal that we have seen them. I know they will have seen us."
"Good idea." Suiting action to his words, the young firecaster hurled a decent sized fireball into the air."
Oddr gave the order to halt while they waited for riders from the army camp. The twins wrapped sarongs around their hips, formal wear for them. Within the hour a small escort lead by an underofficer rode up. He saluted Artor as a Hand of the Commonwealth. Then said:
"Lord Zaldor sends his compliments, sir and to those two two young colts as well, though I cannot tell which one is Sir Jemsen and which is Sir Karel.
"Thank you," Artor said. "Jemsen is the one in the green sarong and Karel in the blue. Let me introduce you to the leader of the Frost Giants, Oddr Bjarnson and their war-chief, Harald Sigurdsen."
That brought another sharp salute. The officer added:
"Gentlemen, I don't want to spoil the surprise, but I am sure you will be pleased with what you find ahead."
True to his orders, he could not be drawn out but turned his mount to lead the column, a procession really toward the encampment which lay in a wide fold in the terrain. To the left was the army camp, laid out with military precision. Every camp of the army on the march was laid out the same way to prevent confusion whether setting up or defending against attack. Next to it was another camp, quite neatly laid out too though not to the fussy standards of the military. These tents were much larger than army tents.
"By the gods," Oddr Bjarnson muttered. There must be many hundreds of Frost Giants in that camp. How did they all get here?"
"I expect, sir, that Lord Zaldor will explain things."
Lord Zaldor did explain things. The Commonwealth had used the increasingly popular news sheets with their burgeoning circulations as a channel to put the word out about the plan to settle the land of the centaurs as a second homeland for Frost Giants. The story went out over postal heliograph to the main towns. Small town papers reprinted what the city papers published.
The story caught the imagination of the public. All races wished the giants well. They had been good neighbors. The government was candid about the risks, but had no trouble finding volunteers who would travel under army escort. The army insisted that volunteers be properly equipped and have the right skills to start life in what was essentially a wilderness. There were no towns or cities, no farms or industries in the land of the centaurs who lived exclusively by the hunt. The Dark Prophet had induced them to migrate to the Eastern Plains promising them the herds that ranged those lands. As for the ranchers and farmers already there, they would continue to work at animal husbandry but as slaves or better yet, domesticated animals, of the centaur race.
The volunteers in the camp were only a first contingent, the bravest, most adventuresome, or most reckless, take your pick, but they had come, some fourteen hundred of them, more than a few of them young lady giants hoping to find a husband and start a new life in a new land, their own land. They arrived in the as yet unnamed town about a week before the Frost Giants from the North.
"I can see that the Commonwealth has done right by my people." Oddr said. Our joint conquest of these new lands will cement our friendship."
"Well said. This is an exciting new chapter in the history of the Commonwealth. I am glad to be a part of it. But what is this? Do I see fresh tattoos on the shoulders of the twins? By the powers, are they now giant-friends too? Unbelievable!"
He beckoned the twins over. "So just what have you two young whippersnappers been up to?"
Jemsen smiled and told him of their adventures and more generally about the long grueling trek.
Zaldor had long taken an avuncular interest in the proteges of his old friend Balandur. Watching their animated faces and ready smiles as they spoke about the Long March, Zaldor was confident that Balandur would have been proud of the two young men his boys had become.
"Boys, I believe you know General Urqaart. He is in charge of the military campaign. My job is to handle the politics and to forge an alliance with the threatened states in the flatlands beyond."
"I don't envy you your job, Lord Zaldor" Urqaart remarked. "It will be like herding cats."
That brought a chuckle, but Artor, who had caught the remark, disagreed.
"People always say that but it is really quite easy to herd cats. You cut up tasty fish filets and put them in a bowl. Hold the bowl high and call out: 'Here kitty, kitty.' They will flock to you then follow wherever you lead them. Of course you have to toss them a bit of fish now and again to hold their interest."
"That is actually an apt description of my diplomatic strategy." Zaldor said ruefully.
Finn made another point.
"This looks to be more than a temporary army camp. I saw builders laying out permanent building lots. Folks look to be settling in for the long haul."
"Very observant of you, young Finn." Zaldor said. "Yes the Commonwealth has leased these lands to build a town. All races will be welcome to live here, though I expect it will be largely a human settlement. It will serve as a way station for road builders and for the travelers and merchants who will one day use this road. A line of heliograph stations is being set up along the route as well."
"You are leasing the land for the town from the nomads?"
"Not only the town site but also the right of way for two roads across their lands. The Western Plains lie within Commonwealth's political boundaries but outside the realm of the commercial code. That protects the nomads from the land grabbers, predatory lenders, and unscrupulous businessmen of the settled lands. The nomads are allowed to follow their roving ways without formal administration by us. They hold their lands in common and trade their beef and mounts for our manufactures and luxuries. Hot heads who hanker for adventure can no longer go on raids, but they can and do join the Commonwealth cavalry which thereby serves as a productive outlet for their rambunctious impulses."
"We Frost Giants have always encouraged our restless young ones to leave our crowded homeland and to seek their fortune in the wider world." Oddr observed.
Letters arrived for the twins from their business agent, a dwarf named Lennart whom Klarendes had recommended for his shrewd business sense. With the trades-mark in hand, Lennart had gone ahead with production and distribution of "The Gemini Zinger". He had modified the design to add a decal in the middle of the bowl depicting a pair of nude archers in green silhouette with the words "Gemini Zinger" arcing above.
The new version of the pie tin toy was a sensational success, helped by advertising in the new sheets which ascribed the Gemini brand name to the Zinger's inventors, the famous twins Jemsen and Karel. The ad copy boasted of the Zinger's better grip and "superior aerodynamic lift". Lennart had kicked off a marketing campaign that included distribution of free samples to youth lodges in several major cities and contests at country fairs pitting the Zinger against ordinary pie tins. Sales were phenomenal with profits pouring into their coffers.
As the host of the dinner to mark the success of the Long March of the Frost Giants, as the episode became known in history, Lord Zaldor sat at the head of the table with his counterpart Oddr in the place of honor at this right hand. General Urqaqrt sat at the foot of the table with Harald Sigurdsen at his right. Also seated at the table were Artor flanked by the twins, and several military officers, a lady of human stock, and a giantess.
Finally, across the table from Artor sat a really cute young fellow in a sleeveless tunic of white silk that displayed and flattered the trim and taut body he had obviously just recently grown into. He had spiky auburn hair and narrow sideburns reaching below the ear lobe plus straight eyebrows with almost no curve to them. They framed a cute face with a high forehead, chiseled jawline, and a perky nose slightly turned up at the end. He introduced himself as Drew Altair, a journalist dispatched by his news sheet to cover the impending war.
"This is my first assignment as a war correspondent. As a journalist, I am just getting started in my career."
"How then did you land such a desirable assignment? Surely more senior journalists angled for the job?" Artor asked.
"They did, but none of the others were their publisher's second son!" he answered candidly, an embarrassed grin on his pretty features.
"So why not his first-born?"
"Oh he's the editor, and our uncle owns the print shop that runs off the copies."
"Which news sheet do you write for anyway?"
"That would be the Capital Intelligencer."
"Ouch! We take a local paper out of Dalnot, but when my father is in the capital he always reads the Intelligencer even though he grumbles that its very name suggests a breach of security. But then he had been grumbling about news sheets and war correspondents since the last Plains War."
"Tell me about it. Before I came out here with the army I interviewed your father at Elysion about his participation in the peace talks with the Frost Giants. Oh, he was very gracious, but he did use those very words with me."
"Luckily I had brought along a copy of my recent article on the brontotheres recently installed on the plains. Such magnificent creatures, looking like armored one-horns or rhinos, only as high at the shoulder as giant. Unlike the rhinos, their two horns point forward and are composed of bone and are set side to side. Bizarre in the extreme. The charge of a herd of brontotheres is unstoppable."
"They have become a minor tourist attraction. Folks pay for admission to their range and also the privilege of feeding sugar beets and cabbages to the beasts. It helps defray the costs of the state-owned farm which provides the produce."
"The brontotheres sometimes take people for a ride sitting astride their necks, though they are not biddable, simply going wherever they please, so sometimes riders have a long hike back. Still they haven't lost a tourist yet. Though there was this one fellow who came close while I was there. Once he got astride the neck of the biggest one, the matriarch of the herd, he dug in his spurs. Big mistake. Their skin is so thick it like armor. The spurs just annoyed the matriarch not from any pain but from the indignity of it all. She lowered her head then whipped it up again real fast tossing the miscreant into a swamp. Oh he wasn't hurt; the reeds, the water, and the mud cushioned his fall, but he was a frightful mess. I laughed so hard it hurt my ribs."
"As you know your father's spouse, Sir Aodh, grew up with brontotheres in the far-off land of the wirs. He said the matriarch was an old friend named Manda. Our shared enthusiasm for brontotheres recommended me to them both. Gosh but Aodh is so darn cute and sexy. I think he liked me too, but since I was there on business and not making a social call, I kept things between us strictly professional. Ah, the things we correspondents do for our art!"
"You know, Karel and I have a standing invitation to Elysion. How about tagging along with us on a visit?"
"I'll look forward to it. Funny isn't it the way Aodh spells his name when it is pronounced like the vowels in vein."
"Don't my brother started," Jemsen said with a cautionary glare at Karel who countered with an air of offended innocence.
"I am sure I don't know what you are talking about, Jemsen."
"Yeah, right!"
"You know, Drew, you remind me a lot of an old friend of ours. Oh he was three-quarters elf and dark blond, but like you he was a little guy, call it five foot zero (152 cm) and one hundred pounds even (45 kg). You have the same a wiry physique with a well-defined musculature and a strong upper storey."
"Actually your father told me about him too. Ran or Randell was his name. You father described him as an irrepressible scamp who was impossible to dislike. I understand he died a hero, saving forty schoolchildren from a marauding centaur."
Drew saw the pain in their eyes as they recalled brave little Ran's sacrifice.
"Yes, our Ran was beautiful, courageous, and well-loved."
After that, the conversation turned to other topics. All four young men had taken an instant liking to each other. Without anything specific being said, they knew that they would seek out each other's company often in the months to come.
Chapter 7. Bonding
The four youths attended the council of war the next day. Drew had permission to take notes on the understanding that he would run the text of his articles by the press officer. A formality really. Their enemies, the centaurs did not take the Capital Intelligencer. As far as anyone knew, they were totally illiterate.
Before the meeting got called to order, the four of them chatted over in a corner. For the occasion, Drew came in the outfit he would wear on campaign: short trews which reached to mid-thigh and a sleeveless shirt slashed all the way at the sides, both made of dark green silk plus a pair of the same hobnailed sandals that the infantry wore. He explained:
"These are for when I march with you guys and the giants. For when I ride with the cavalry I have a pair of short boots with thick heels that fit more securely in the stirrups than a flat sole. Gives a more secure seat."
"All well and good." Artor said, "Now don't take this the wrong way, Drew, but how can you protect yourself, a little fellow like you, no offense. I mean, I can throw fire and the twins are deadly with their bows and kukris, and Finn has a sword and that twelve foot spear of his."
"With these." Drew replied, holding out a pair of steel balls about the size of a peach. "My magical gift is Fetching."
"Just like with Arik!"
"That's right, Jemsen. I have been practicing a technique I developed. Now Arik's poisoned arrowheads work well against most foes but maybe not centaurs. Their constitutions are so alien, who knows what poisons affect those creatures? Besides my spheres, I carry darts coated with a non-lethal drug to knock out my target: one for a man or several darts for larger targets. The steel balls are for when something needs killing or I want to smash down doors, break locks, or get through shields, that sort of thing."
"So you just Throw the steel balls at your target."
"No, I don't just Throw and let them go. I keep control of the movement of the steel ball at all times, keeping it under power as it were, moving it back and forth, left and right, up and down, as the ball smashes its way through the target. With my level of power I can lift a boulder off the ground without strain. That amount of force applied to a small steel ball makes it travel incredibly fast generating devastating momentum. By the time I finished, the carcasses of the dead cattle I had practiced on were so badly torn up their meat was unusable."
"I can only imagine."
"By the way," Finn added, "Nice outfit, very practical on campaign."
"Oh, I don't know," Karel ventured. "Jemsen and I were kinda hoped he would fight bare-ass naked the way we do. For purely tactical reasons, of course" he added, tongue in cheek, explaining that sweaty nude bodies were slippery and hard to hold on to while clothing, belts, and straps afforded grab holds to adversaries.
"Ha, ha. Don't worry guys, you'll get plenty of chances to see me in the nude, close up and personal, if you take my meaning."
"That's much better."
"Another one then!" Artor said, rolling his eyes. "It's a wonder that the sentient races on this planet of ours don't die out from failure to reproduce! Not that I am being critical of you personally. I know that sexual orientation is not a conscious choice; it is a discovery we make about ourselves at puberty and sometimes later. Well, except for elves whose same gender orientation is their hereditary destiny. Still, have you even tried girls, Drew?"
"As a matter of fact I have, but it felt all wrong. I realized then that I was one of those who was made for boys, and boys were made for me."
"Good answer," the twins enthused in unison.
"So did you choose your campaign outfit for practical reasons or are you body shy."
"Body shy? Hardly! At home when I am not on assignment I prance around the capital with nary a stitch, not even one of those genital pouches that I am now old enough to wear. I am seventeen going on eighteen, though I look a year or two younger because of my small stature."
"On assignment I always dress up in a tunic or something of that sort. Not from modesty of course. When I am working on a story, I don't want my physical beauty to distract my interlocutors. More importantly clothing helps me get taken more seriously by those I talk to. Adults would not grant me an interview if they thought I was just another underage bare-assed kid butting into the business of grown ups."
"I mean, with one glance at my slight build and impossibly pretty features macho males mark me down as the worst sort of bum boy. Not just someone who submits from force of circumstance, but a natural submissive who prefers the role of catamite or boy toy. I can hardly deny that I look like one. If that makes me seem less than manly, then so be it. I like my look just fine and am not the least bit interested in "manning up". All in all I enjoy being a sexy boy-toy, but it does have that down side."
The twins nodded. "We ourselves normally run around 'skin-clad' like our friends the elves, but we wrap a sarong around our hips for formal occasions like this dinner, wear silk trews when up on a horse to prevent chafing, or throw a hooded camouflage cloak over our shoulders while working as army scouts. Otherwise we go around unshod and unclothed. We made the whole Long March in the rude nude."
"I envy you. I have never been publicly naked for months at a stretch like you guys. If only..."
"A bit of an exhibitionist are you then, Drew?"
"Guilty as charged. Gosh, does that make me a bad person?" he asked rhetorically, tapping his breast with his fist in mock self reproach.
"Anyway, when I do put on clothing, it is not just about my slight physique. When I run around in the nude folks can see that I am uniformly bronzed from habitual nudity, the mark of a boy still too young for clothing. With my wiry physique and delicate features, my appearance is androgynous rather than masculine. I fall far short of normal male standards in height, muscular development, and manly characteristics like beard and body hair. As short as I am, as fine-boned, and impossibly comely, they won't take me seriously as a male. Many take me for a rent boy."
"Been there; done that." the twins chorused with a grin.
"Really?"
Jemsen explained how the two of them and Dahl and Aodh had sold their charms to finance their first journey across the continent. Some years later he asked Balandur why the giant hadn't just paid for everything out of his purse. Not only was he rich, he was well compensated as a Dread Hand of the Commonwealth, to give him his full title. He said that he wanted his proteges to bond, the younglings, being all in the same boat, as it were, without coin or a stitch to wear for that matter. When life gets down to basics, well it shows what sort of person you were. Merry was in on it too."
"All of you? Heroes famous across the continent: the druid Dahlderon, Sir Aodh of LLangollen, and Sirs Jemsen and Karel, Holders of the Military Cross for Valor, elf-friends, dwarf-friends, and now giant-friends too. Rent boys. Wow!"
"By the way guys, I will need to interview all three of you about the Long March of the Frost Giants. Finn too. You see, not only will I be posting stories about the campaign from this point on, but I will pen features about what lead up to today: Finn's mission, the peace talks, the Long March, the call for volunteers, the new town, etc. We owe it to posterity. Journalism is the first draft of history, as the saying goes."
Over the next week, the giants resupplied, regrouped and reordered their forces, enlisting enough fighters from among the emigrants to double their little army to nearly twelve hundred. Some of the younger ones went courting among the emigrants, able to look presentable to potential mates thanks to a supply of eleven depilatories.
The remaining giants, including most of the women and the few youngsters would sojourn at the townsite till they could safely enter the land of the centaurs. The plan was to sweep the entire country, kill the great majority of the centaurs, then find a promising site for an army fort and a civilian town though both would be protected by palisades.
In the meanwhile, the twins and Drew got better acquainted. Very well acquainted indeed. The twins took things one step at a time. Enticing Drew into a threesome would not be on the agenda for some time to come. The twins might look nearly his age but they were in their mid-twenties with so much more life experience than any seventeen year old kid could possibly have. Karel won the toss of the coin. Between them the brothers made a bet how long it would take for Drew to tell them apart by their lovemaking technique or by just their appearance.
For his part Drew was so glad to have the twins take him to their bed. He had tried females and found that it was so much better making love to a boy. Girls are soft and round and jiggly. Boys have hard bodies, all muscle and bone and sinew. Nothing is better than to wrestle a boy in bed, grappling with his strong body, so much like your own, to join with him in a passionate embrace (which is artsy talk for a hard fuck).
Also a boy gives head so much better than a girl. He knows cock better than any female ever could. Drew looked so damn cute when he knelt in front of a twin, all submissive like, hands along his flanks, using just his tongue and his lips on the cock of the male he was worshiping. Or vice-versa; the twins were versatile and did not mind switching roles.
Drew never had to work to arouse either of the twins down there. With him their cocks sprang into action, hard even as the young auburn-haired beauty sank to his knees. Drew always started with a kiss on the head of the cock he was servicing, a light peck at first, then a smooch. Then his tongue went to work, twirling around the glans, poking the tip into the piss slit, tapping the knob with little flicks with the tip of his own tongue, often targeting the sweet spot. Karel liked him to open his mouth and take just the head in and let it rest there for a minute, to let it get used to the sensations of moisture and warmth, to let the shaft feel his pouty lips close around it possessively, proprietarily. Jemsen liked to slip further back sooner than his twin, but he never forced the pace.
Then Finn joined the fun. The young giant was huge compared to the twins and even more so compared to the diminutive journalist. The young giant liked to make love standing on his feet. With Drew's legs bent upward, Finn lifted the boy high enough for Drew to throw his ankles over Finn's shoulders while the back of his thighs were pressed to Finn's chest. The giant supported most of Drew's slight weight on his arms -- at least till he got the boy settled on his cock. Slipping it inside was awkward since Drew couldn't easily reach back there. They took it slowly and carefully.
For such a big guy Finn was a gentle though energetic lover. He did not batter his way inside but let Drew set the pace and the degree of penetration as well as do much of the work himself, lifting his body, letting it fall back onto the cock inside him, basically fucking himself, though Finn helped with his big hands raising and lowering Drew bodily.
When he had Drew down on all fours and covered the boy like a stallion does a filly, Finn's hand played with Drew's own cock, stroking and pumping and sliding the foreskin back and forth, thumbing its sweet spot, making the smaller male shudder with desire until he came explosively, which set Finn to coming in a chain reaction as the muscles of his quim contracted spasmodically, squeezing the cock that was inside him and sending its owner into orgasm as well.
At a barbecue the afternoon before the kickoff of the military campaign, harking back to what the had talked about the day they all met Finn asked about Artor's own love life.
"Eventually I expect to marry and start a family. So like you, Artor I am interested in the perpetuation of the sentient species on this planet, as you so aptly put it. So I wondered what you yourself have done toward that end? Aren't you, as the heir, supposed to engender an heir and a spare of your own" he asked pointedly.
"OK. You got me. The reason I am not looking for a bride right now is that my father gave me a pass on doing so in my late teens, as he had done in his youth. My parents' was an arranged marriage designed to perpetuate both their considerable degree of elven blood for my generation and to pass on the gift of firecasting. My mother, though not a firecaster herself except in a very minor way, enough to light candles or a kitchen fire, could pass on to her offspring the propensity to manifest that gift."
"As it turned out, their marriage was doubly successful. First they had kids very quickly. Humans and elves often find it difficult to conceive, and that applies to hybrids like my folks. As it happened, my mother conceived far quicker than anyone expected and she did it twice. The second success was that their arranged marriage turned into a real love match. They made each other very happy. Until her accident of course."
"So now I am free to live the unconstrained life of a bachelor and play the field. My brother will likely marry before I do though he too is in no hurry. We both have centuries before us. Why act hastily and perhaps find ourselves partnered with a lady who is jealous of other attachments? What is it with women anyway that they cannot understand that males not only crave but need variety. Once you are married, once they get their hooks into you, they label a spouse who lies with another a cheat. Cheating? Really? Marriage is not a game of cards. What nonsense."
"Yours is the cry of aggrieved males down the ages. Artor, let me tell you the story of my great-uncle Sven and his encounter with a harridan of just that persuasion. Not his wife, I hasten to add, a fine lady who was secure in his affections despite the roving eye for which he was well-known. One feast day, it was only early evening but the mead had flowed freely, pitchers of it passed from trestle table to trestle table, this lady, let's call her Lady Aster, got on Sven's case. She harangued him for quite some while till Sven, exasperated that she was spoiling his holiday, told her to keep her wrong-headed notions to herself. A man who spread his favors widely, he maintained was just being generous, doubly so with someone like himself who did not discriminate between the genders.
"Is that what you call chronic philandering -- generosity!"
"I do. I am also of the opinion that women who insist on fidelity and exclusivity are just being selfish."
"By that point Lady Aster was so angry she was nearly apoplectic, much to the amusement of Sven and his loyal wife too. Drawing herself up to her haughtiest, Lady Aster gave Sven a withering look and declared:
"Sven Aldrson. Were I your wife, I should put poison in your kaffay."
"Without missing a beat Sven gave back: 'Madame, were I your husband, I would drink it!'"
That broke everyone up, both those present on the fateful day and those listening years later to Finn's recital of the tale of his great-uncle's triumph.
[Philanderer is actually a strange term for a chronic womanizer. The word derives from Greek roots and means 'lover of men']
Chapter 8. Campaign
Given the nature of the enemy, ordinary scouting would never work. Centaurs relied on scent as well as their sharp vision to detect enemies and they literally had eyes in the back of their head for three hundred sixty degree vision. With a full battalion left behind at the new town temporarily being called Plainsville, General Urqaart's army commenced a wide sweep of the rolling lands in the south of the country occupied by the centaurs. His cavalry squadrons quartered the landscape. Meanwhile the Frost Giants secured the site selected for the fort and new town on the banks of a major river. Under their protection, army engineers and the giants' own builders erected palisades enclosing the sites of town and fort which were separated by a distance of no more than two bow shots.
At first the centaurs refused battle. Their population lived by the hunt and was too scattered to muster quickly. In time though a great host gathered with the intent of slaying the interlopers and feeding on their carcasses. Both forces were made up entirely of cavalry as they squared off on either side of a small creek running through a wide meadow, some three thousand humans mounted on horses against perhaps twice as many of the six-limbed centaurs. Unfortunately the centaur's speed of maneuver had made it impossible for the allied infantry, that is the Frost Giants, to join the cavalry on the battlefield.
Looking very different from mythological centaurs, these creatures were insect-like monsters who nevertheless walked on their four hind limbs while in front their bodies angled up to a torso with long arms and a head, whence their name. Their four hind limbs ended in hoof-like structures formed from fuzed digits, but their arms had large hands with three fingers and a semi-opposable thumb. They had internal cartilaginous skeletons, unlike insects who wore their skeletons of chitin on the outside of their bodies.
Joined directly to their bodies without a true neck, their heads could not swivel. To compensate, the beasts not only had two large eyes in front for binocular vision, they also had two small eyes in the back of the head. These small eyes could not swerve, but they extended the centaurs' peripheral vision to 360 degrees.
The centaurs could make and use tools and weapons. In battle they slashed at their foes with a curved saber in each hand. As the human army shook itself out into a line of battle the centaurs formed a wedge. Their intent was clear: to crash through the human lines then wheel both left and right and roll up their flanks.
"Sorry, sir, but I don't think I can stop their charge," Artor admitted. "There are a thousand centaurs in that wedge, while I can form and throw only so many fireballs in the time it would take for them to close the distance."
"If only we had our Frost Giants with us to sling those glass globes of yours, Artor for you to ignite as they fall among them. The globes are a real force multiplier for your firecasting, enough to break up that wedge formation, I am sure."
Years earlier young Aodh had come up with the idea of filling small glass globes with a inflammable liquid which slinger boys could hurl at an enemy over the defenders' shield wall. Since then, the technique had been refined. Each globe held one of two kinds of liquid, dark or light. The dark fluid had been thickened by an additive devised by alchemists to make it cling to a target, much like a firecaster's fireballs. The light colored liquid was less viscous, splashing around easily over a wide area.
"Maybe we can create a force multiplier without the Frost Giants." Drew Altair remarked to the army's commanders. He went on to explain that working together, how he and Artor could disrupt the wedge long before it reached Urqaart's lines. Their supply carts held a supply of globes. Using his Fetching power Drew could precisely target the centaurs at the point of the wedge, smashing globes of clingy liquid in their faces for Artor to ignite. Drew could keep several globes in motion at any one time. He was confident that the centaurs could never get through that gauntlet of fire.
And so it proved to be. The wedge surged forward with the main body of centaurs following behind in support, ready to exploit the breakthrough once it was achieved. Alas those on point ran into a fiery holocaust. With the globes under control during their flight, Drew simply could not miss. Dozens then hundreds of globes flew at the centaurs then exploded into flame at just the right instant. The charge of the centaurs dissolved in a shambles.
Then it was the turn of the cavalry. Trumpets sounded the charge. With lances lowered and feet braced in their stirrups, the cavalry of the Commonwealth rode the centaurs down. Powered by the momentum of horse and rider concentrated on the tip of their lance heads, the riders skewered the centaurs. When lances broke on impact or remained lodged in the centaurs, the cavalrymen drew their swords and supported those who still had lances. Together they inflicted an unbelievable slaughter. The cavalry's own losses were relatively light -- only three hundred -- but those men died hard. The centaurs beheaded or sliced the bellies of man and horse alike whenever the cavalry charge faltered and lost its momentum.
Flanking columns of riders cut off attempts by groups of centaurs to flee. It was a battle of annihilation. General Urqaart expressed his satisfaction and his gratitude to the two young men who had been so critical to their success.
"Things looked dicey there at first, but thanks to Artor and young Altair, we blunted their attack then pressed our own against them. They won't try that again anytime soon, unfortunately."
"Unfortunately?" the young journalist asked, perplexed.
"These creatures are cunning. After such a defeat, they will change their methods and come at us another way, maybe adopt guerrilla tactics."
"Then you would have to flush them out of forest and hills and ravines that they know well and we don't."
"Maybe not, sir." Jemsen said tentatively. "These centaurs live by the hunt right? What if the game they fed on disappeared?"
"What do you mean, Sir Jemsen?"
"I think I know what my brother is getting at, sir." Karel interjected. "A game drive. A line of skirmishers spreads out across the countryside, making a lot of noise. That will drive the game before them. Oh the centaurs themselves will go to ground, hide, and wait for the drive to pass, but soon they will have to come out of concealment in search of food. That is your chance to wipe them out."
"Excellent! I suppose it would take a hunter rather than a military man to come up with that idea."
"We should lure them to ground of our own choosing, though just where I don't know." Karel finished.
"Maybe I do."
"What do you mean, Drew?"
"Last week I was with riders on a reconnaissance mission. We chanced upon a valley enclosed by steep hills on all sides, with only one way in. Drive a substantial number of game animals into the valley as bait for the centaurs."
General Urqaart shook his head.
"I read the report of that patrol. That valley is bad country for cavalry."
"But not for infantry. We'll station the Frost Giants at the inner end of the ravine leading into the valley. When the centaurs poke their noses into the ravine, you bottle them up with cavalry on the rolling plains that lead to the valley. That is prime cavalry country. The centaurs will be trapped. They can either die on your lances or face the blades and spears of the Frost Giants."
"Afterwards, you should have only stragglers to deal with. With the conquest basically finished, you could ride on with the bulk of your army in the strategic push to the endangered lands beyond."
"I like the way that boy thinks. All these younglings in fact, the twins and the Hand too."
It took some doing but events went as planned. The centaurs took the bait, marched into the ravine, got trapped by the cavalry to their rear, and died, mostly trying to breach the shield wall of the giants. Artor rode with the cavalry and roasted dozens of centaurs. He then hurled a few fireballs into the sky to panic the great mass of the centaurs in the ravine. The twins and the young journalist stood with the Frost Giants.
Jemsen and Karel took a position just behind the extreme right of the giant's lines, up the slope a ways. That let them fire down at centaurs locked in close combat with the giants or to reach out farther, beyond the fighters at the shield wall. Supplied by the army quartermaster with a dozen bundles of arrows each, the twins kept up a steady fire. Ten arrows stuck headfirst into the ground were handy for volley fire, should a profitable target present itself.
The twins sent their shafts into the heads and necks of the monsters. Body shots could penetrate the chitinous armor of the centaurs and inflict ultimately fatal wounds from internal bleeding, but arrows to the body could not deliver the shock or stopping power of a lance backed by the momentum of horse and rider. The archers preferred to target unit commanders, easily identifiable by their body paint. With the decimation of its leaders, the centaur attack lost much of its cohesion.
Drew was in his element, whirling his steel globes back and forth, right and left, up and down, sending them smashing through the centaurs. The movements of the balls mimicked the emphatic gestures he made with his arms and his fists. This 'shadow boxing' helped him concentrate. The steel balls targeted the heads of the creatures, splattering their brains all around, creating a truly gruesome spectacle.
For all the help they got from the three humans, most of the fighting fell to the thousand plus giants. They grimly held the line, slashing away with their swords or stabbing with their spears, implacable and immovable. Their slingers flung fire globes over the shield wall which fell onto the great mass of centaur army beyond the line of contact. Hot coals flung at the their enemies set off a conflagration.
In the shield wall, the giants fought in close order and in pairs with the shield of the one on the left fending off sabers from that direction, the shield of the one on the right doing likewise on the other quarter. For each fighter his universe shrank to the small plot of ground he stood on and those immediately to front and flanks occupied by friend and foe. The heat, the sweat, the dust, the smoke and ash, the clang of steel on steel, and the anguished cries of the wounded and the dying made it seem like the battlefield was a particularly noisy corner of the infernal regions.
Centaurs did not fight in dressed lines. Their attack was more like a melee or perhaps a series of duels with the enemy each found immediately to his front. Centaurs needed a lot of room to effectively swing the sabers held in each hand. The result of all these factors was that even with superior numbers on the battlefield, at the forward edge of the battle, where it really counted, each centaur faced two or even three Frost Giants. One of them might thrust his spear right into his chest while another cleaved his head from crown to jawbone with his sword.
At one point it looked like the centaurs might break through the giants' shield wall despite everything when a couple of giants tripped over the carcass of a centaur. The centaurs surged into the opening, slashing and kicking, heedless of their own losses, overwhelming the two front ranks.
Stationed just behind the breach in the line were Arn and Finn -- 'Old Arn and Young Finn in the Breach' as they would go down in legend. Looking over at his companion, Arn cried:
"Follow me!"
Arn laid about with his spear using the blade, the point, and the iron cap on the butt . Arn was one of the biggest of the giants standing nearly nine foot tall. With his twelve foot spear and long arms, he had a tremendous reach. Centaurs who came within that reach died. Though Finn was much smaller he was quicker and more nimble. That helped him to survive and to protect Arn's flank. He covered his own sector valiantly, stabbing and slashing for all he was worth.
Seeing the danger, Drew lent a hand. With Arn and Finn locked in close combat with their foes, Drew was careful to keep his spheres moving vertically beyond the line held by Arn and Finn and the other giants who rallied to them. Pounding his fists in a pile driver motion, he plunged them into the backs and hindquarters of the centaurs and into the earth beneath. A quick uppercut brought the weapon up again, poised for another smash.
When Drew had cleared the centaurs pressing most closely on the pair of giants, he went back to his shadow boxing technique and attacked the main mass of the enemy.
"By Auden's beard!", Arn cried. "It's like there is an invisible steel giant out here with us, pummeling the enemy with left hooks and roundhouse rights. And the centaurs can't do a thing about it."
The gallant stand made by Arn and Finn turned the tide as their comrades rallied to their side. The Frost Giants paid for their victory with blood. Arn and Finn both took nasty cuts from the scimitars of the enemy. They were treated with natural medicine: disinfectant and stitches. Even with a contingent of Healers from the Commonwealth magical healing was reserved for those who could not be saved otherwise. No one could say that they had not earned their title to this land which they decided to call New Varangia, after Finn and Arn's home district.
For his victory against the centaur wedge, for standing with their shield wall, and for suggesting the tactics that won them that new homeland, Drew Altair was made a giant-friend, tattoo and all. Artor reluctantly turned down the honor explaining it was against policy. The Dread Hands of the Commonwealth could acknowledge only one loyalty. Lord Zaldor's report to the Commonwealth government urged that Artor be promoted from journeyman to become a Dread Hand in full.
Zaldor and Urqaart moved out soon thereafter, heading west, leaving behind a battalion to secure their line of communications. The Frost Giants who had stayed behind on the plains made the journey to New Varangia and set to work building their new country.
Artor stayed on for two months to represent the Commonwealth during the transition from a military zone of conflict to a civil society of Frost Giants operating under their own laws. The twins stayed on too, working with a small force of giants to root out the remaining centaurs. What looked to be the very last of the creatures proved exasperatingly difficult to track down. The creature was wise to their tactics and had the advantage of an intimate knowledge of the lay of the land.
Then Jemsen and Karel got creative. They offered themselves as bait. With Finn and several other giants providing security the twins found a good spot at the edge of the forest to trap the centaur. To disguise their own mild body scent they coated their nude bodies with juices from crushed mint leaves which grew in the shady understory. Then they got to work, using pulleys and ropes borrowed from the army engineers to raise one end of a deadfall high off the ground, positioned above a trail. Finn offered to help, but they told him this was one job they had to do by themselves. In the open country just beyond the edge of the forest, they constructed a hunting blind, then staked out a goat a little ways off.
"Er guys, I know I am just a city boy and certainly no hunter," Drew ventured, "but won't the centaur get suspicious of a goat staked out in the open like that. It is rather obvious that creature is bait for a trap."
Jemsen shook his head.
"The goat and the hunting blind are just props. We ourselves are the bait. Of course the centaur will realize the goat is bait for a trap. And it will realize that this clump of brush growing on the slope is artificial, so it must be a hunter's hide."
"Really? It looks pretty natural to me."
"Yes, but it is constructed of plants which grow in the shady understory of the forest, plants which would never grow out here in bright sunlight. So the creature will stalk its hunters, creeping down the trail so as to approach silently, thinking to turn the tables on us."
"Now that is really crafty."
Just before dawn, the centaur tripped the trap. The deadfall fell and broke its back, the weight pinning the creature in place. It howled horridly. The twins waited till full light then led Drew, Artor, and Finn and his giants to the site of the trap. Still very much alive, the centaur tried to slash at its tormentors. Jemsen open a small sack he was carrying and threw several of the glass globes at it, covering it with both kinds of inflammable liquids. He gestured to Karel to finish the job. His brother lifted a cup of burning coals and tossed them at the centaur which went up in flames. As the flames burned merrily he flung a final globe at their victim.
The twins watched the conflagration, their faces mirroring the fierce glee in their hearts. When the fire died down, the twins turned away. In a low voice, Jemsen told Artor and Finn:
"That was for Ran."
The next day the twins were their normal cheerful selves, having finally exorcised their inner demons over the loss of their friend and lover Randell by the extinction of the cruel species that had slain him and so many other sentients. They intended to stay on in New Varangia to finish the initial mapping of the Commonwealth's new dominions, returning with Artor after his mission ended. Finn would stay on with his people but would always be their friend and very likely a companion in future adventures.
Drew stayed on for a bit too, in order to get the story of how the giants were taking possession of their newly conquered land of New Varangia and what they were doing with it. After two months, all four youths returned to the Commonwealth capital. Drew's first order of business was to write a connected account of all that had happened. It would be serialized in the Intelligencer and bound in book form with woodcuts made from Drew's own sketches.
Upon their arrival at the capital of the Commonwealth the young journalist found that the dispatches he had sent via postal rider and heliograph had established his reputation as a journalist. And though he was too modest to play up his own role in thwarting the charge of the centaur wedge or his 'shadow boxing' at the battle in the ravine, official bulletins from Lord Zaldor and General Urqaart lauded him and Artor and the twins for their vital contributions to the success of the campaign. To the public Drew was a genuine hero.
"So now I am a hero too. I have to say, Jemsen, that if what I did makes me a hero, I am in good company: you and Karel, Artor, Oddr and Harald not to mention Old Arn and Young Finn in the Breach. This calls for a celebration. Any suggestions?"
"Hmm. Karel, what do you think would be the ideal way to celebrate our friend's new-found status as a war hero?"
"The best way would be a three way."
"Huh?" Drew exclaimed, then gulped as he realized what he had let himself in for.
The twins snatched up their diminutive friend and carried the auburn-haired beauty off to their rooms.
Enough said.
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 story is one of an occasional series about the further adventures of the characters introduced in the fantasy novel 'Elf-Boy and Friend's and published by Nifty Archive. The chief protagonist of the novel, Dahlderon, elf-boy and druid, will appear in these stories in a supporting rather than starring role. Each story stands on its own, with the focus on one or just a few of the original characters plus a few new ones. This story 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 recent 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.
Comments and feedback welcome.