Date: Wed, 17 May 2017 08:42:47 -0400
From: Orson Cadell <orson.cadell@gmail.com>
Subject: The Heathens 18

Please see original story
(www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/historical/the-heathens/) for warnings and
copyright. Highlights: All fiction. All rights reserved. Includes sex
between young-adult and adult men. Go away if any of that is against your
local rules. Practice safer sex than my characters. Write if you like, but
flamers end up in the nasty bits of future stories. Donate to Nifty
**TODAY** at donate.nifty.org/donate.html to keep the cum coming.

*****

I allowed him to take my offering three more times that night, and I
dragged two more loads from him as well. I knew it was critical to cement
this holy bond and drive home the essential truth of the Brotherhood of
Christ while the tea was strong in him. God had made the herbs I brewed,
and He had given me the knowledge of them through my mothers. He had also
left me with the magnificent Harcos those years to hone and improve my
skills at brotherly love. I realised as Inkar grunted and squealed his way
through this night of ecstasy: This was why He had done so. This sad and
blasphemous little flock had need of what I had been given, and God in his
Mercy had given me, his servant, the tools to save them from themselves.

*****

The Heathens 18: Words, My Weapons

By Bear Pup

*****

The flower pestle in the first tea of the previous night has a fascinating
story. Its tea has an important use in defeating specific demons that can
attack the sacred tract of womankind. Over many years, and especially in
the dry steppes to the north and west, a strange side-effect was found. For
men, it has really only one major effect, that side effect just mentioned
found in women needing its cure. It makes the ear scream when certain very
high tones are used. Tones like the clicking of the steppe-locust, or like
the little bent piece of metal in my sleeve.

I awoke to howls of rage and indignant curses. Father burst into the
sleeping chamber to find their fanatical son, the one they named Denial and
secretly-named as the foundation of their twisted fate, curled in my crotch
with his stubble and chest flaky with my dried cum. The primordial screech
of rage brought Inkar awake and holding his ears, as Father clutched his
own when what he'd screamed hit them like a spike. I hobbled upright and
retrieved my crutch, not bothering to do more than throw my shirt on. It
barely covered my rather happy and satisfied prick and certainly did not
hide its rampant state.

I also grabbed my herb-roll, quickly. I pushed past Father to find a demon
incarnate. Mother's black hair exploded from her head and her eyes were
sunken and wild. Her hands clenched into talon-like claws and she screeched
in a way that silenced her with pain, then, when pain faded the least bit,
redoubled in volume over and over again. Ismet sat blinking and mumbling,
apparently praying to stop the horrible noise.

Father and Inkar stumbled out behind me and Father made as if to grab me. I
held out my arms -- well, one arm; the other was keeping my upright -- like
a half-Moses at a partial Red Sea. "SILENCE!" Beneath that bellowed word, I
started to pop the little clicker back and forth, hiding it in my
sleeve. When all four were clutching their ears and silence had fallen, I
relented.

In my deepest, most-impressive voice, I decreed, "INKAR! Explain the Doom I
have suspended!" Inkar began to babble. Mother screamed in outrage and I
bellowed "SILENCE!" again and clicked away. In fits and starts, Inkar
decried his heresy and defied his parents. He even added stuff I hadn't
told him, beautifully-wrought to fit the narrative of true Christian love
and brotherhood. The essential nature of touch, of kiss, of the sacrament
of the sacred seed. I liberally used the clicker whenever the parents took
umbrage, declaiming things like, "THIS IS GOD'S WILL!" and similar to cover
the subtle agonising noise.

What became clear was that Inkar and Ayib had been true and insightful, as
confirmed by the woman's own ravings the night before. Mother was frankly
insane from her demonic possession and Father was her reluctant but
powerless puppet. That made some things easier, like the restructuring of
the family along Christian lines, both others -- like what to do with this
murderous, twisted, sacrilegious creature -- far more complex. I sent Ismet
outside, then Inkar and lastly Father and backed out as he left.

"Mother is possessed. Deeply and powerful. The demon perverts the faith--"
She had come to the opening and I clicked several times in a way that made
the sound more potent in the doorway than behind me where the others sat;
she fell backwards into the hovel's gloom, "--in ways that disgust and
offend the One True God. Inkar! Father! Go into--" click-click-click; she
retreated, "--to the village. Take these coins--" Harcos had known better
than to leave a single, whole golden Caracalla Aureus in this
backwater. Instead, he left me silver and lesser-gold far in excess of the
amount he promised and tried to hide it in the maths. "--and hire a
house-builder. We may yet save Mother--" bullshit; she was crazier than
Dionysian with blue-balls, click-click-click, "--but not the house. None of
us may sleep there again."

They flat ran toward the village. Ismet was cross-eyed in pain and
confusion. "Ismet! Care for the young. Taken them to release the animals to
graze then into the forest to gather. Go quickly! This demon--"
click-click-click, "--is powerful and tests even my Sacred Mysteries." She
and those children peeking around the walls vanished as quickly as Father
and Inkar.

I set about assembling a powder, intricate and dangerous, to use in the
exorcism that was required here. The demon in that woman was, perhaps, the
strongest I had ever met, perhaps the strongest I have ever heard
discussed. The vessel holding the demon was even more delicate; years of
demonic tyranny had left her fragile and perhaps impossible to save. The
powder I ground in my fingers (my mortar and pestle still trapped in my
pack in the hovel) would certainly incapacitate both vessel and
invader. Whether there would be anything left of the Christian soul when
the demon was driven away, though, was a matter for God alone in his
wisdom.

When Father and Inkar returned, and Ismet with the children, I faced the
opening of the hovel as they spread in an arc well behind me. Again, I
turned to the vile Latin of Rome to ensure the power of the sounds, for the
prayer would work as well in any tongue. "Princeps gloriosissime caelestis
exercitus!" I planned to quote Matthew, Timothy and the Revelation of John,
but started with the Epistle to the Laodiceans, egregiously stolen by the
Pauline heretics as the Epistle to the Ephesians. "Sancte Michael
Archangele, da nobis 'aciem adversus principes Potestates--"

The creature began to scream and writhe, in part because I waited for her
to rush the doorway and blew the powder into her path. "--principes autem
adversus mundi rectores tenebrarum harum," She howled and dropped, "contra
spiritualia nequitiæ, in excelsis!" The deon, rocked to the core by the
words of God and by the power of His holy herbs, began to quake then twitch
and finally exploded into a seizure delivered by the Most High God.

There was more to the prayer, and most of the powder to blow upon the
demon-infested body, but the rest is easy to find in scripture. If you have
had the sad duty to expel a High Demon, you know it already. It took
perhaps half an hour to finally dispel the demon who took this woman so
many years before, screaming in agony from the exorcism. As the last
phrases rang forth, "Quaesumus, per Jesum Christum Dominum nostrum!", The
High Demon screamed defiance as it fled the fleshy shell of the woman these
poor people had known as Mother, leaving her limp and near-lifeless.

They carried her from the house to a tent already erected by the builder
who arrived during the horrible, terrifying ordeal. They were Heathens to a
man, and simply shook their heads, but knew true Evil when it left that
woman and warded themselves against it. She died before sunset, her soul
and life eaten away by the horrible and unshakable possession she carried
(and, I knew in my heart, had encouraged and perhaps even conjured in her
lust for power).

Exhausted but far from done with my duty to my new family, I spoke to the
builders. They were reluctant until I showed them coin, but agreed to build
to my request. It would be a Christian home, with space to expand our
family with several wives for me and Inkar and perhaps even Gunah. Ismet
would find a husband of her own and with my help bring him to The
Light. The twins, Pakliq and Safliq, though, would be the new Mothers of
this family and my senior wives. Inkar (and if he grows in faith and truth,
Gunah) could never share them for it is proscribed by the prophets, but
other wives shall join us in holy union as we grow.

The babes would have their sanctuary to the far end, the women in their
time a niche of sumptuous comfort, the children their play- and sleep-room,
but the rest of my family would revel in a glorious nest of Sacred Sharing
and Christian Love. It would cost, perhaps, a twelfth what Harcos left me,
but it was the foundation upon which a Christian family, a Christian
understanding and perhaps a Christian faith might thrive. It was the gift
of the divine if unclean Harcos, the holiest man I had ever known.

*****

KUCUK

*****

Stelio directed Volot and I as we salted and tied slab after slap securely
to two poles, lost in confusion and terror at the threat we'd been told was
around us. More immediately, how in seven hells could cooking venison keep
an enemy at bay? And what difference would it make since the dry, wooden
poles would burn in minutes?

The brilliance of this arrangement became clear as Pyrkagia arranged the
first set of poles. The meat hung *below* the poles. The meat itself
protected the dry wood. Before long, the entire carcass, in small and
manageable slabs, was roasting succulently over the coals. The fumes were
intoxicating as Pyrkagia threw handfuls of leafy herbs to blast pungent
smoke upwards and flavour the meat.

We ate insanely-well that night as dusk fell. At the insistence of our
masters, Volot and I ate our fill of the deer, relishing every bite. We
packed away the bulk of the succulent flesh in tight, salted-cloth for the
journey ahead. Volot and I found ourselves strangely alone at one point
after full dark until the men retuned pretending drunkenness. The game was
beyond us to understand. Some itch, some divine nudge, made me go to
Prykagia. I taught him a simple phrase in the trade language of our
area. He looked bemused but humoured me, repeating it back beneath his
voice in that incredibly-deep register.

Harcos would not even consider play that night, and I was miffed at his
attitude. I had to sleep with Agyar AND the staff. He basically locked me
in his arms and twined his legs around me, trapping me in a position that
eventually led to my slumber. It was hours later, the depth of the night,
when a thousand bells chimed at once.

Harcos was up and out, the tent-wall gone, before the first tinkle
bounced. I had no time to plan, to pray, to even think. I rolled upright
and the jagged end of my staff found a face running toward my master's
back. He screamed and without thought my Agyar finished him. He would not
again threaten my Harcos.

It was like fighting rats then. They boiled from the darkness like a tide,
unstoppable and inescapable. But they fell to my pike, my Agyar, the sword
or shield or punch of Harcos. By screams and howls I could tell that equal
numbers fell before the other four. They fell, but would not do so forever.

I screamed in trade language, "NO! Mighty Roman demon do not consume these
ignorant creatures! I beg thee! Do not take that child to be your vessel
again!" in Latin I yelled, "Now, Pyrkagia, NOW!"

Our youngest/oldest friend stood and intoned, deep and terrible, at the top
of his lungs and the depth of his register, "FEED ME! BRING ME THEIR LIVERS
TO EAT!" This stygian, chthonic voice from what seemed a child's body
stunned the attackers, but his words shivered them. The fact that the words
were broken and indistinct simply fuelled their fear.

I screamed at the top of my lungs, "NO! Oh, by the Gods, Demon! You have
devoured so many. Take not all these souls to your hell! Have mercy,
Creature!"

"BRING ME... LIVERS!"

It was a tide reversed. The mass of bodies now boiled in vocal desperation
to escape. Harcos killed two who failed to flee, and suddenly there were no
more attackers. The three warriors dispatched the wounded combatants, and I
saw disgust and grief on the face of my master. The perimeter was rebuilt
and we gathered around the fire.

Pameten spoke, low and sad, "Twas the venison."

Stelio nodded, "They were starved, desperate."

Harcos rose and grunted, no words in his voice, and stormed to our tent. I
followed and replaced the covering of the opening as best I could before
joining him.

He was scowling with an expression I had never seen. A blazing fire that
defied the gods themselves. He literally growled at me as I settled before
him. I rolled to where my belly was to him, the type of submission-posture
normally seen in dogs and wolves, and invitation to be eviscerated.

In my smallest voice, I whispered, "How have I failed you, my Aldus?"

"DO NOT CALL ME THAT!" The bellow could be heard across mountains.

I wriggled closer, almost into his lap. "Please my, my, my Harcos, what
have I done?"

"NOTHING! You have done NOTHING! LEAVE ME!"

That was not within me to do. He could kill me, rip my limbs apart, but I
could never leave him like this.

"I-I-I-I-I r-respectfully refuse, my master. I will n-n-never leave
you. You are my Aldus, my Harcos, my salvation, my everything. You hurt and
thus I hurt. Please, I beg you, tell me why!"

He stayed silent for an eternity. He sighed so deeply it was like a wind
blew the walls of the tent. "This was not battle! This was slaughter! They
were starving, desperate, dying. And. Still. They. Came!"

God gave me a glimmer of a thought, and my mind-Strasta fleshed it
out. "You are right, my master, you should have let them slay me and take
me for meat along with the venison. That, of course, would have been just."

The roar was impressive, even considering my elevated standard for
barbarian warriors. He grabbed me like a hare and brought me to his
face. "YOU MOCK ME!"

"No, my saviour, I mock your folly! Kill me if you like, but you are worth
a thousand of those creatures. They set to kill you, to kill me and Pam and
all the rest. Aldus, my Aldus, you saved us all and you mourn the fact that
they *made you do so*. They killed in need and callous disregard of all of
our lives; YOU, my Aldus, you killed because you had no CHOICE."

I found myself wrapped in a cocoon of weeping man-flesh. "But I KILLED!"

I dragged him into me as fiercely as he cradled me. "Yes, my Aldus, but
because you had no choice."

He rocked me for a time I could not calculate then sat back, suddenly
startling me. "What did you do, that thing with Pyrkagia?"

I chuckled into his chest, "These men, the Heathens of the plains, all
think their souls reside in the liver. I taught Pyrkagia a phrase, 'Bring
me their livers to eat!' I begged the evil Roman demon to spare them, then
Pyrkagia, the tiny boy, bellowed in the deep voice of a demon and they
fled!"

He pulled back and turned my head to his. "Dasqas, you are a treasure
beyond price."

"No, my Aldus, I just try to think what you, my master, salvation, saviour
may need and try to lay it in wait."

"I am no one's MASTER, you impudent imp and impertinent child!" He bridled
and fumed.

"I am NO child, you ignorant, smelly, barbarian prick. I am a MAN defending
the MAN that I care for. The man that I CHOOSE to call master. Complain to
the wind, to the rain, to the SUN! I don't care. I will see you as master
and LOVE YOU FOR IT whether you consent or not. Sleep a lonely night in
cold pelts, you fucking, insensitive bastard! I'll sleep by some other fire
where I am not dismissed as a nuisance!"

I rose and had reached the tent-closure before his giant hand grabbed
me. He pulled me, scratching and biting into his arms, curling my spitting
and raging form into his chest.

"Bite me with those sharp teeth, Kucuk my puppy. Scratch me with the edges
of your jewel, my Dasqas. Rage and cry and wriggle and writhe, my perfect
and precious little one. I deserve every nip and every cut. But you will
not escape me, my wondrous little Kucuk. I will never be your master. You
will never be my slave. But perhaps, just perhaps, we will be those things
of each other."

<eof>

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Active storelines, all at www.nifty.org/nifty/gay...
Canvas Hell: 25 chapters .../camping/canvas-hell/
Beaux Thibodaux: 16 chapters .../adult-youth/beaux-thibodaux/
The Heathens: 18 chapters .../historical/the-heathens/
Off the Magic Carpet: 11 chapters .../military/off-the-magic-carpet/
Lake Desolation: 10 chapters .../rural/lake-desolation/
Dear John Letter: 3 chapter .../military/dear-john-letter/
Brother Bear: 2 chapter .../incest/brother-bear/
Shark Reef: 3 chapters .../adult-youth/shark-reef/

Special collaboration with Brad Borris: In God's Love .../incest/in-gods-love/