SQUIRE OF CARLOVAIN
Chapter 7
"The Spring of Vedron"
Sustained and absorbed by his outraged sense of honor and filled with dismay of the loss of so many allies-cum-friends that had died this day, Andrew had no calculation of the distance they traveled, even though they spent hours riding, until their horses were spent and plodded rather than galloped. He was surprised, therefore, when they topped a rise and were confronted by a sizeable campsite along the road in the valley below, many fires blazing in an elongated pool of light. "Who are they?" he asked.
"They are Lord Dentremon's troops, who set out this morning bound for Castle Tiresval as are we, I presume." Trevish said. His voice was snide as he said this, then dropped. "My apologies, Andrew, I am tired, as I am sure you are."
Andrew lifted a hand from its perch on the reins and was surprised to find the arm stiff and unresponsive. Of a sudden, his body proclaimed all its pains and aches to him. "I am indeed." he said.
"Shall we ride on to join these men?" Trevish asked.
"In these days, how can we be sure of the right course for anything?" Adomeh said. "We three carry a secret we dare not reveal any more than we have, as we have learned to our sorrow. Perhaps we should hide ourselves until we know the King to be safe away."
Andrew ventured, "I know only that Lord Dentremon declared these to be his loyal troops, and that his son Marcus was playing a double-role, acting as co-conspirator with his brother, Jean" he nearly spit out that name "and then informing his father who could or could not be trusted. These are the soldiers whom Lord Dentremon felt to be loyal to the King."
"Yet if Marcus is in fact a traitor to the King," Adomeh speculated. "we could well walk into another trap as the one we just escaped at such horrible cost. It makes me slow to trust anyone for now."
"I have no answers and am not in a condition to offer any if I had." Trevish said.
"We shall camp here, then, and rest." Adomeh said. "In the morning, when our heads are clearer, we can reconsider."
"I hear the sound of running water." Trevish cocked his head. "Up the hill in that direction." Andrew listened, it was a bubbling sort of roaring sound, and definitely the sound of water; it came from their right, a direction which was only trees and bushes, for the road skirted around the hill's very top portion.
"If it be a spring or a stream, then our campsite has announced itself." Adomeh agreed. They turned their weary horses, who snorted, smelled the water and moved with an alacrity they had not shown for many miles, darting eagerly into the night-blackened bushes.
Andrew was buffeted by branches he could not even see coming through the darkness of the woods into which they had moved. He held on as best he could--his horse no longer was paying much heed to his reins--and fortunately the distance was not overly far, perhaps a hundred feet from the roadside, they came upon the water.
The horses lost all semblance of obedience as they plunged over and dunked their heads into the stream. Andrew himself was entranced by the sight of the waterfall in the darkness, beautiful even in the poor light of first-quarter moon now low in the western sky.
The hill had broken at this point, forming a cliff some twenty feet high. From a slit within this broken rock, perhaps twelve feet up its face, a rather thin sheet of water some eight feet wide poured out with some force, forming a natural fountain. It splashed into a sizeable basin it had carved out over the years it had existed, which funneled off downhill in a narrow but vigorous brook, towards the campsite of Lord Dentremon's troops below. It was surrounded by large rocks which made a sizeable clearing free of trees and bushes; only a lush grass grew there.
Andrew dismounted and joined the horses in lapping at the water with his tongue. He ached, he was weary, and this was easier than trying to scoop water up to his lips. He had discovered much earlier that his horse carried no food or water, just the saddles had been placed onto their steeds. He was not truly hungry yet, after his rather-lavish afternoon picnic with Lord Dentremon, but he was very, very sleepy.
He rose, found his comrades still surfeiting their own thirsts (what must they have gone through on this ride, he realized sleepily, not having water all the entire, long day!) and looked about in the dim moonlight for bedding. He found it in the form of a grassy space and, tethering their horses to one of the rocks, using their reins to improvise a running tether, so they could crop the grass if they would, returned to find Trevish and Adomeh lying in the only really suitable space for a man's bed. He was beyond caring, there was space enough between them, which he snuggled into and promptly fell asleep.
He found himself awake, standing in the lush grass before the fountain. The trees about him were red, autumn's colors though the air about him had none of autumn's coolness. He saw now that some rocks near the fountain formed a crude, low stone altar upon which a small fire burned. The light around him was neither that of sun or moon, it was red and that Andrew now saw was what made the trees seem red-colored.
Moving to the altar and kneeling at it, he found his hands contained four oak leaves, green and freshly plucked from their trees. Not knowing how he knew, he knew his purpose here; he put these leaves into the fire, one by one, intoning as he did so, "Edwar. Derevan. Cedril. Lord Dentremon."
The fire blazed up with a smoky black blaze, looking through the column of smoke at the sheet of water which poured out of the rock.
And the black smoke parted the smoke-and-water, and through this portal stepped a man, large, black-haired, hairy, dressed only in a pair of leather trousers and a red cloak which billowed around him, large enough to envelop him entirely, and he wore stashed in his belt a naked, large, silver sword which shone with its own light. His face and body were handsome, to a degree and in a manner Andrew could not define, it transcended any hint that it would ever change, ever become old or ugly. It was male beauty eternal.
The man saw him, smiled. "Are we well-met, kinsman?" he asked in the age-old, traditional formula.
"We are well-met, kinsman." Andrew said.
The man frowned. "Is that all the greeting?"
It was not, though the full greeting survived merely as the giggling gossip of children, which was embarrassingly confirmed by adults. So Andrew knew what to do, though he had never heard of anyone actually calling for the rest of it. He complied, though, kneeling at the man's feet and pulling out the flap of cloth which served as the traditional Neresterii fly, and the large cock inside sprang out at him, less like it had been trapped in the cloth and set free, but that it turned from flaccid to erect instantly. Andrew took the thick, powerful prong into his lips and sucked on it, tasting a sweet nectar with no hint of saltiness pouring out of it in response.
A few movements only were all that was required, Andrew performed them and returned the cock to its fly, re-closed it. He then stood and was given the same treatment by the man. Andrew's waist-tie flew apart at the man's touch, and Andrew's cock, though soft when the man took it in his hand to guide it to his lips, grew prodigiously as the adept lips and tongue glided over his manhood, milking his sap from him in like guise as he had done to the man. When the pearly bead landed on the man's tongue, he licked it off and then performed the same ending service to Andrew, tucking his cock back into his trousers and retied it with a single touch of his hand.
"Welcome, Andrew, son of Falin of the Clan Moresta of the Neresterii." the man said expansively.
"You have me at a disadvantage, sir." Andrew said. "For I know not your name."
The man smiled. "You know me, if you will but consult your spirit. It called out to me and I have come to aid you."
"Vedron?" Andrew named the ancient Neresterii god of battle.
"You need not make it such a question." the man smiled, chuckled, a deep laugh from within his throat. Andrew felt that when he roared with laughter, it would be the same rich sound. "Just because the impertinent Christians have seized this land and forced their god upon you does not mean that we have forgotten you in turn. Rather, it was decided to let this interloper come, and then to let our own people show him the error of ever leaving his desert lands, for this is not his land and never shall be. Your lips may pray to him, but your spirits call out for us, and we hear you, not he."
"Carlovain is in danger of losing its freedom." Andrew said. "Our King is in flight, the rebel French lords have declared alliance, nay, subjugation to the Grand Duchy of Burgundy. And my friends lie dead as a result."
"They died in honor." Vedron said to him.
"Where was the honor for them?" Andrew asked. "Two died from an overdose of sleeping draught, one from an arrow meant for us, and the final forced in his dotage into an early grave by activity he would not have needed to take but for this cursed rebellion."
"And you want revenge?" Vedron eyed him speculatively.
"I want revenge." Andrew agreed. "Lord Jean Dentremon and Lord Guy Montaigne."
"You want your sword to plunge into their hearts and feast there." Vedron agreed.
"I want that." Andrew said fiercely.
"And if you cannot win this revenge without a high cost?" Vedron asked.
"I would give my life gladly."
"It would cost you more than that. It would cost you Carlovain's freedom."
"What? How?" Andrew said. "I could just...."
"These four died in honor." Vedron repeated. "They had their loyalties, they served it and died in its service. Where is your loyalty, Andrew?"
"To my King and to my country." Andrew said.
"You say that without thinking." Vedron said. "Admirable in a soldier, but you are called to more than that."
"How?"
"You shall be the means whereby we free Carlovain and return its King to her throne."
Andrew smiled.
"But it must cost you your revenge. Choose, Andrew, son of Falin. Your revenge, or Carlovain."
"Carlovain." Andrew said.
"It will cost you much, as it cost your friends." Vedron said.
"Just show me the way to do it." Andrew said. "My sword will cut them down."
Vedron suddenly drew his sword and pointed it at Andrew's throat. "You can start by fighting with me."
Andrew was appalled; he was unarmed in this dream. "I have no sword! I cannot fight!" He protested.
"If you think that, then you are no warrior." Vedron returned the sword to his sheath. "A warrior must have the knowledge of the sword indeed, but he must also wield the other weapons he owns. You were to fight me, and had no sword. What was your plan of attack?"
"I had none."
"Not true." Vedron said. "You could have run from me."
"Run?"
"Run to find weapons and return with them to carry the fight later." Vedron said. "There are rocks aplenty here, you could have hefted one at me from a safe distance, out of range of my sword. You could have snatched pebbles from the shore to toss at me and distract me at a vital moment. You could have hidden among the trees and sprung upon me unseen and seized my sword and used it against me. These are warrior's weapons as well. Your father taught you the sword, and he taught you well. Now you must learn how to not use it alone, for you have many other fine weapons. Your comrades knew that, and so did your King. When his own soldiers turned against him and him unarmed in his chambers, what did he do? He showed himself to be a true Neresterii warrior, he fled, leaving his fortunes and his lands behind, snatching only a cloak from his bedside, mounted his horse, and ran in an unexpected direction while his enemies sought him in other quarters. He is even now at Gullsport with your father and mother, and they will board a boat for England tomorrow. Thus he has won this battle against his foes by denying them his death, and will return to Carlovain to battle anew at better odds. Even we gods know this, for we chose not despoil our land to fight the Christian god, instead we have given way, and wait and work from within. The interloper King found he only cared for a Neresterii bride, and so have his sons ever since and now our King is Neresterii once more for we have washed the outsider blood away from him entirely. These, Andrew, are your true weapons, and the only ones to carry the day against Burgundy."
"Subterfuge." Andrew said.
"And deceit and trickery." Vedron agreed.
"But where is the honor?" Andrew cried out. "You tell me to use the tools of evil!"
"Evil?" Vedron's sword was again pointed at him. "Where is the good or evil in a sword's blade? Depending upon the hand that bears it, it slays the foes of Carlovain, or slaughters widows and children without mercy! It is the wielder which is good or evil, not the weapon!" He lowered the sword again. "Used properly, the sword is a force for good. And used properly, the cleverness to outsmart your enemy can carry honor fully as great as that the sword bestows. If you can learn to use your mind as well as your body, playing each of them in their proper measure and time, then you shall be the tool we gods forged you to be, and you shall be the one we use to restore Carlovain to its rightful place among the nations of Europe. I have spoken." Vedron declared in finality.
"I see." Andrew said, humbled. "And I am grateful." Andrew knelt before his ancestral god. This was a dream, he knew, and expected it to end, and to wake up.
Instead, a hand lifted up his chin and he looked up into Vedron's eyes. "You do not think I have been summoned to you by mere oak-leaves, do you?" he said. "Time for my offering from you."
Andrew gnawed at Vedron's crotch in response, and the big man-god chuckled again, such a full-throated, luxurious chuckle, then sighed and embraced him from his standing position, bending over him to kiss the top of his head and stroke his back.
Suddenly Andrew's clothing and that of Vedron's was gone entirely. Nothing stopped Andrew from cramming the huge schlong into his mouth and sucking on it lustily, and he did. After all, this was only a dream, he knew and he enjoyed it with the total abandon such realization permits. The cock was thick, and slid into his mouth and throat like honey, carrying with it an ineffable sweet taste. There was none of the raunchy, male, musky smell that usually accompanied such acts, and properly sucking this huge pud carried none of the difficulties taking such a large prong into his mouth would usually entail. This was the perfect love-making realized only in dreams.
Vedron groaned as Andrew plied his skills, and without the fumbling, interrupting movements of reality, now Andrew and Vedron were lying side by side on the ground, and Andrew was pumping the massive pud, and Vedron groaned once more, this the roar of a warrior's pleasure, and Andrew was filled with the sweet taste of jism, the ambrosia of the raunchy gods of ancient Carlovain.
And Vedron poured his seed into Andrew, and with it came a sense of peace and joy he had never known before, it was like he could do this forever, and Vedron could have poured his sperm into Andrew's mouth forever. So long did the orgasm of Vedron last that he had time to massage Andrew's head in gratitude, to stroke Andrew's shoulders, to turn about and, as the last of the seed gushed into Andrew with the same force as the first spurt, Vedron's lips locked onto Andrew's cock to repay the favor in full.
He was thoroughly taken, his cock surrounded by warm, moist, clutching lips, lapped by a wide, warm tongue, his cock thrilled to each stroke and movement of the agile head that dipped and wove onto him not in the pedestrian straight back-and-forth, it was the circular weaving motions that touched every part of his cockhead, glans, and shaft, and drove him to wild gasping grunts of pleasure, sounding much as a pig does at feeding time, the snuffling snorts of unfettered and unmeasured pleasure.
Andrew had always awakened at times like this, the dream ending or prolonging itself at this time, never to reach the climax. Such a total use of his body and mind was too much to ask of a mere dream. But his joy clambered to new heights, the familiar tension in his body coalesced like a serpent gathering into coils in order to strike, and to his astonishment, he felt the entire, bright, multi-colored, multi-leveled rapture envelop his body, and he gushed his life into the waiting lips that still worked at him masterfully, and Andrew groaned, and rutted outwards into the clutching mouth.
And even afterwards, the dream persisted, through to the last gentle sprays of his jism into the god's mouth, the sweat that beaded his body, and let him fall, drained, into total darkness.
That, not the dream was what was suddenly shattered.
"Andrew? Andrew?" Trevish said. "Andrew, wake up, you're having a nightmare. Lie still or you'll kick us both black-and-blue." Trevish complained.
Andrew opened his eyes, and found daylight greeting him. Adomeh and Trevish were still beside him though, and Andrew found to his embarrassment that he was rutting in his sleep, grinding his hips against Adomeh's wonderfully padded but taut buttocks; he had snuggled up to Adomeh spoon-fashion and Trevish was lying with his own body against Andrew though not so intimately, and his arm was pressing Andrew's shoulder.
Andrew realized that while he had not shot his wad in his sleep, he was covered in fact with sticky pre-jism in a flood even nocturnal emission did not normally reach.
"Are you all right?" Trevish said. "You were groaning like you were being tortured."
"It was not torture." Andrew admitted sheepishly.
Trevish realized immediately and chuckled. "Well, at least you chose Adomeh to grind against. You were wriggling like you were humping some horny stud."
"Close." Andrew admitted.
"How's that monster holding up?" Trevish asked, reaching down to feel Andrew's crotch. "Yeesh, you're a mess. That got onto my fingers." Trevish wiped his slimy fingertips on Andrew's trouser.
"You don't smell so well yourselves." Andrew said. His fatigue had kept him from noticing before, but now he smelled how badly his two comrades needed a bath. "I suggest that this spring be put to good use before we ride on."
"Just what I was thinking." Trevish said and sat up, stretched and yawned. "You ever made love in water, Andrew?"
"No." Andrew admitted.
"You want to?" Trevish asked. "I think you haven't been taking proper care of your needs, from the feel of that slimy mess you've made from your lust-dreams."
"I had a rather vivid dream." Andrew said.
"Indeed, and I envy you that." Trevish said. "But let us leave our Sleeping Prince here to resound that horn at his leisure, and dip ourselves and our clothes into this spring. I hadn't noticed last night, but it is perfect for a dalliance such as I offer to you."
Andrew didn't argue the more, but took off his clothes and joined with Trevish in the water. The water was wonderfully warm, surprisingly so for underground water, and indeed a light steam arose from the waterfall that poured out from the cliff-face.
"This place reminds me of the bathing rooms at the Palace." Trevish said. "A basin is filled on the roof and by pulling a lever, you can cause the water to pour down onto you. It aids you in washing yourself thoroughly. I only got a chance to try it out a few times, but it is a wonderful way to wash your body."
His body glistening from the water, so that every muscle proclaimed its size and location on his sun-browned body, Trevish waded through the spring, the water, which had been only to just below his ample groin, now rose up to nearly his armpits at the waterfall's edge. He stepped into it. "Ahh, this is marvelous!" he said as Andrew watched him, seeing the fair skin with its black hair turned into long straight lines on his body. Trevish lifted his face into the stream and let it pour onto him, and the water made a clear sheet; Andrew could see his face even when it was totally submerged in the stream.
"Come on!" Trevish called and Andrew found his body suddenly eager. His cock pointed the way happily as he moved toward his darker lover.
Trevish took Andrew in his arms as they moved together and Andrew felt his cock collide with that of Trevish's, both of them being wafted about with more than gentle waves of motion by the churning water that poured onto them in a ceaseless stream from above. Andrew kissed the neck and felt his own shoulder being nibbled in return, his hands plied over Trevish's strong back and Trevish's hands found his buttocks and clutched them tightly, ground himself against Andrew's potent pud.
The clear and detailed erotic dream had done nothing to drain him, Andrew realized, he felt more powerful and excited than he ever had, and dipping down slightly, he shoved his prong between Trevish's muscular thighs and mock-fucked him in that way.
"Whoa, steady fellow!" Trevish said to him teasingly. The water now was beating at Andrew's back, as Trevish had turned them around, and Trevish pushed Andrew back to douse his head with the warm, warm water. "It's my turn to be the stallion here!"
It took Andrew a moment to realize the request, then he smiled and turned. Trevish indeed had spent much of his time playing the passive partner, it was only fair that now Andrew give himself to him. Just as Adomeh now owed him one at their next dalliance!
Trevish used the warm water for his lubrication, and it worked well. Andrew found his body, still very untrained, welcoming the dark invader into his body with only a minimum of discomfort. He trusted Trevish, and that trust was somehow communicated to his body in a physical way. If Trevish wished to push a part of his body into Andrew, Andrew's body permitted this.
Trevish groaned and thrust lustily at him, and Andrew's entire body slid forward on the slick bottom of the pool, this bottom feeling less like mud than a coating of slime over the rocks, and this shifted his body further under and through the thin sheet of the waterfall. He leaned over, and now the waterfall pounded his back and he was within the covering of the waterfall. Trevish's cock was pumping at him and Trevish's hand dutifully plied over Andrew's pud, and Andrew gave himself totally to the pleasure, the feel of Trevish's strong hand on his prick, the feel of Trevish's wonderfully filled and strong cock in his ass, plunging back and forth, the water, so warm it was like a physical embrace in and of itself, covering him and loving his aching body, so that the muscles all gave way to pliable agreement, so much that he felt this must be one of the healing springs he had heard of from time to time. Only this one was unknown to man.
Andrew felt the sensations of his dream returning in great measure here, the same wonderful tingling of every nerve that somehow submerged to pool in his body, seeking to form greater and greater oases of pleasure, and that meeting place drew itself into his groin. He felt Trevish's prod like a hot pole in his ass, stiff as steel and feeling much like that cursed iron bar had, only this was welcome rather than resented by his body. Trevish was grunting and pumping at Andrew now with a single-minded fury, and Andrew felt his body rising to the crest of his climax, grateful that, just before it reached its peak, Trevish grunted and he felt the hot salty sting of Trevish's load flood his body, and so Andrew gave himself to his own ejaculation without stint or ingratitude, just the sheer pleasure of letting his body pleasure him in this way, his face flushed hot and he rose up to let the water of the waterfall cover him while he squirted, only the angle of his face permitting him to breathe the warm, moist air and he raised up his eyes, dilated with his ecstasy and saw with dazed eyes the gates of Vedron once again.
He blinked, as he panted to recover the use of his senses, still dulled and overloaded with his orgasm, and it took a moment, until he could focus and see that he was actually looking at the rock of the wall behind the fountaining waterfall, the rock untouched and unseen for an unknown period, but before then, it had known a sculptor's hands.
"Look at this!" he called out when his breath permitted him to.
Trevish leaned over and saw the engravings, whistled. "Do you know what this is?" he asked.
"Old carvings." Andrew said.
"Yes, they are the markings of the old Neresterii. These symbols are of one of the old gods."
"Vedron." Andrew said.
"Uh, yes, I believe you're right." Trevish said. "Yes, this is meant to be him, this figure bearing the sword. See his red cloak billowing out? I though the triangle was meant to be a shield at first, but it's his cloak. This must be one of the ancient shrines to Vedron, and we've stumbled onto it."
"And desecrated it?" Andrew asked, uncomfortable. Christianity had been in Carlovain for perhaps a thousand years, but the old ways lay very close below the surface even still. "Should we apologize or...or something?"
"I don't know." Trevish said. "Say a prayer and hope to be forgiven for trespassing."
"And for fucking in his sacred spring?" Andrew asked, half-jocularly.
"Hmm... I'm remembering some old lessons, mind you, but as I recall, Vedron wouldn't have complained about two warriors like ourselves having our pleasure. He was the Neresterii god of battleand was known to favor mortal comrades on his adventures, and they shared more than the spoils of battle, don't you know, according to the ancient songs. But he was more than a mere warrior like Mars, he was also a god of strategy and cunning, much like the Roman Mercury."
"Use the weapons you have." Andrew mused. "A weapon is not good or evil, it is its wielder who is good or evil."
"Say, did you read this thing yourself in school?" Trevish said. "You sound just like my old school-master. That's word-for-word one of the teachings of Vedron."
"No." Andrew said uncomfortably. "I...just heard it...somewhere. Let's get back to the banks and waken Adomeh and get moving again. I'm hungry."
He thought he heard Vedron's throaty chuckle when he climbed out of the spring, but when he listened, it became just the waterfall once again.