Date: Sun, 6 Feb 2000 02:49:55 -0500
From: d <dirge@operamail.com>
Subject: Castle In the Fog    story1   M/b

warning not for young readers: all disclaimers apply
Story Code M/b

Castle In The Fog
Story I

by dirge

dirge@operamail.com



Close your eyes. Imagine. In the distance between
squinted lashes and sun and trees and rain. Beyond the
hills and waters. And beyond that line on the horizon
that is just a spit of silver in the evening and morning.
There it is, at first a shadow in the hazy dawn, the fog
creeping around, causing the firmament to shift and move
out of phase, out of understanding.

It becomes more distinct now, the gray pillars rising
silent like smoke, but something more sturdy, a tree, no
a rock, stone. It is a mammoth structure. I'm telling you
this now because I have walked its halls and perused its
rooms and libraries. At first I did not understand to
what extent the castle reached, but as I spend more time
charting and mapping the endless maze of corridors,
antechambers, courtyards, theaters, bathrooms and
ballrooms I think a pattern may be emerging. Not yet, not
today. Perhaps tomorrow, or a year or ten years.
Hopeless, maybe, I remain confidant that I will find that
doorway to the outside.

...

Let me remember what I was before I came into the fog.
Its hard to think back, I've read countless books and at
times it seems that my life blends with those of the
characters. Before this place, I was stockbroker in
Chicago, there on Windy Avenue on the eighth floor. I
thought for a time I was a sailor, a great Viking
warrior, it turns out I was only a stockbroker. I had a
family, I don't remember my wife or the gender of my
children, I had four I think. I lived in a big house in
the suburbs and carpooled to work everyday. I had
friends, they were shallow and drank too much. My wife,
her name started with an A, drank with them. She was
lovers with my friends and I didn't fuck her much. I had
a dog, "My real pal." I would joke. His name was Butch
and he was a great hound who accompanied me on hunts into
the wood. Or am I fading again?

When I walked into the mist I was lost, I was on the
phone selling ten thousand shares of Xerox. Then it was
quiet and I was standing on a shore, the ocean lapping
around my ankles. The fog was thick, I could touch it,
feel its wetness on my palms and cheeks. I remember
holding out my hand trying to grip the inconsistency of
this elusive matter. "Walk inward." I heard a voice say,
It came from my head, a silent thought. I hadn't heard a
silent thought since I was a boy.

I walked forward for a ways- losing the sea to its
creatures, the waves softened and composed like music
behind me, and I knew I was traveling at the speed of
light. I was standing in a field of green, the fog still
dense so it was more like standing on a round patch of
grass with no bearing in either direction. I walked more,
hours or days I could not tell. The sun, I assumed, was
to my left, because it was a brighter splotch in the
haze. But I did not walk toward the light, that was not
the way I wanted to go.

When I came to the wall I stopped and looked up, it
vanished like a vertical plane into the cloud. I sat and
rested, then walked along the base, then rested, and
walked again. About the time one starts singing to
themselves because they are walking too much I heard the
trample, clop, rhythmic patter of horses on soft ground.
I tried to blend into my solid barrier hoping they would
pass me by, they did not. They slowed staying far enough
back so that they were dancing figures in whiteness. The
horses breath rose in the air, but it was not cold. I
heard talking among the shadow riders, a language that
was not familiar to me in any fashion.

"Who walks by the wall?" I heard a voice project toward me.

"What, who-."

"Who are you, what do you want?" The rider shouted.

"I don't know, I was lost in the fog, I was by the sea."

"No man is ever lost when he is in the fog. The fog
always leads to the wall." I was puzzled, but replied,

"How do I get over?"

My question was followed by a fit of
laughter and they rode upon me striking me with unseen
weapons, and looking into my eyes and I theirs- before I
passed out.

Maybe this is why I thought I was a Viking warrior.
After a great battle, bruised and cut. Feeling the pain
with every breath. Was it a battle at sea or on land,
were we victorious. My men, how many of my men were lost?
More darkness.

I awoke in a bed that was not my own. Deep soft down
that I sank into like rocks in water. It was warm and I
felt drugged. There was a fire burning heating the air in
a vicinity, but the room itself was chilly. My eyes
creaked open and light flashed from a frosted window of
colored glass. The ceiling was covered in tapestries,
they were old, depicting a woman, naked, lying on a field
of grass running her hands over the back of a strong man,
also naked. He was at her feet, and at his feet
was his hound.

"Oh, you be woken."

The face of plump old woman suddenly
appeared.

"Yes," I whispered. My voice was parched.

"Don't move, you took a bad one to the head."

I moved and suddenly regretted disobeying her order.
I felt my body naked under the covers.

"Also ya be as naked a babe."

My hands roamed over what felt like
well defined muscles, though I had never been a muscular man I
was obviously shaped.

"I'll send a servant into bathe you, and I suppose I can
find something to make you modest. What was your name
sir?"

My mind was reeling with all the new surroundings I
was taking in. I uttered "I don't know."
At this she laughed hysterically.

"Yes you are a male alright, not even knowing his own name."

I rolled over so I did not have to look at her. She rang
a bell and said there would be a servant up in a moment,
then left.

Is there a point in existence where one life or
dimension molds with another? How can someone open his
eyes and realize that the world he knew is not the world
that is. I was lost, flowing with the current of events.

There was a knock at the door and I turned to see a lad
enter carrying a bucket of steaming water and a bundle of
garments.

"I've come to bathe and dress you Sir." I looked at him
blankly as if his words were spoken in a foreign tongue.

"Sir."  He pulled the covers away from my body and the
cool air shocked me. "Don't worry Sir, the water is hot."

He was an elegant child, not more than twelve,
beautiful really. I could not keep my eyes from his face.
More beautiful than any woman I had ever seen. His hair
was dark brown bordering on black but the light hit it
and I could detect the chestnut highlights. His skin was
light and his full lips a deep pink as were his cheeks.
His eyes like his hair were dark almost no whites. He had
soft features. The molded features of a child, like blown
glass, subtle.

He bent down and dipped a sponge in the steaming water,
at this point I fully realized my nakedness and moved to
cover my self with my hand. He smiled showing white even
teeth and a tad of pink tongue, moving my hand back he
began washing my legs. I relaxed and watched his
movements as he caressed my lower body with the warm
scented water. He was wearing a light tunic and knitted
leggings, perhaps doe skin. No I thought, fawn skin. So
soft. He smiled at me, reading my mind--I will never
know. He dipped to refresh his sponge and started on my
chest. I smiled. I felt my penis beginning to thicken
from his pure beauty and ministrations. With out thought,
or concern my hand reached up and touched the boys chest,
flat hand covering his front upon his breast. I felt his
heat, his heart, his life force beat like a drum through
my arm and into my temples. My eyes closed and my hand
fell. I was weak. He stopped leaned forward I felt his
face close to mine. He breathed onto my mouth and I could
taste him. His scent, sweet like honeyed wine, warm and
wet. I opened my eyes and he was gone. The room was
empty, I was dressed. The fire was dying. Light from the
window was dimmer and I heard music from somewhere.

...

I opened the door made of strong oak, it was solid and
heavy and swung on brass hinges that squeaked as I peered
into the stone hall. I had been dressed in a short robe
and light leggings of that same fawn skin the boy had
worn, they were soft and fine, they moved across my limbs
like silk.

The music persisted, as I ventured down the corridor
toward a light. It seemed like the plucking of strings
with the shallow tune of a flute, I could here slight
laughter and chatting as I proceeded, the kind of whisper
and private conversation one hears at a dinner party. The
great rock walls began to merge with marble, deep and
green, cracked with gold and ruby. Tapestries and
paintings were etched into the surface, I could make out
a hunt, the hounds were drawn like birds flocking around
the legs of the horses, as their riders pointed to a game
animal in the distance.

About this time a couple passed me, They were drunk I
think, and the woman was naked. A man groped her on every
part as they went by, not even noticing I was stunned by
their intimacy. She was lovely, her hair long and gold,
she wore a chain about her waist that tauntingly
disappeared between her legs. More people emerged from up
ahead, a man, short and old with a white beard and
glossy. He was portly and looked of some class. Smiling
as he passed, said, "The wine is chilled tonight and
plenty of it."

At the end of the corridor a sight beheld me that to
this day takes away my breath with its sheer immensity.
Before me was a giant hall, huge in its construction,
pillars of marble about each entrance supported a domed
ceiling like a gothic church. Upon this sky of masonry
was painted in the likes of Michelangelo a red sunset
with crows flying from a dead and black tree as if scared
by a rustling in the bush. This for some unknown reason
chilled me to the bone. But there was too much for me to
contemplate.

The chamber was filled with people of all colors ages
and gender, sitting on cushions and couches and by
tables. Some where dancing, some where smoking what
looked like pipes, others slept passed out from partaking
too generously of the contents of huge wooden vats, in
which wine was being poured by servants. If you can
imagine the flowing of fabric of all colors and the sight
of skin and the smell of rich smoke and grapes, mixed
exotically with the music. That is what I saw.

I walked slowly around the outer ledge by the great
pillars gawking at everything. I didn't even notice when
I bumped into a chubby woman.

"My lord," she exclaimed "You're awake at last." she was
the camber maid who had attended me in my room. "Welcome
to the wing of Duke Astar."

"Who?" I mumbled.

"Ah, ya still be confused. My good lad, tonight is the
Festival of Nights."

"What? I'm confused." I said, "I need to get back home,
I have a family. I might be lost." She took a gulp of
wine from a goblet.

"My lord you are not lost, you are in the care of the
good duke."

"How did I get here?"

"You came through the wall."

"There was a sea, and a pasture and riders." I was
confused and scared.

"Yes." she exclaimed. "There is always that. Riders? You
were lucky. Sometimes the riders will take them and then
there is no hope. The riders get them by the sea and they
just can't run fast enough."

"No, the riders were by the wall." I said, " I tried to
hide against the it." The old woman's rosy cheeks turned
pale.

"You don't know what you say." she spat. "The
riders cannot come this close to the wall."

"I swear to you madam, they were by the wall, I could
not run, the wall was in my way!"

She dropped her goblet, the red contents spilling on the
smooth floor. "This is grave, you must speak with the
duke and tell him everything!"

I was lost in her mumbling as she led me into the midst
of the gathering. Where was I? The past was slipping into
the fog that lay on the outer most walls of this
structure. We passed the most erotic sights of merry
making. Men and women were writhing on the floor in
drunken and breathless passion. I saw a group of strong
young men enjoying the pleasures of their bodies. They
would kiss and suck and probe on every orifice
imaginable. I saw women doing like wise, old men with
young ladies and old ladies with men in their prime.
Amazing to my eyes I was becoming slightly aroused.

One man, huge, with the muscles of an ox and a slim
waste was naked. Upon his lap and impaled by his member
was a blond boy no older then fourteen years of age, His
face was contorted in pleasure, I would have said pain
but it was pleasure. The warrior occupied him with gentle
thrusts. This was awesome as we hurried by. The sight of
a young, slight in every aspect, sensual in every move,
joining with the hardened chiseled muscles of a man this
size was spellbinding. I wanted to stay and see this
through to their climax. Would the great man spill his
seed deep into his young lover? Would he lift the boy
like a sip of wine to his mouth and drink deep of his
body? Would they leave this hall together and find a room
for the night. Or were they just mutual companions for
this short period of drunken inhibition? Would the
youngster wonder off and find another partner, perhaps a
young female, or go play swords in the great passageways
with friends, or go home to sleep off his intoxication?
This I would never know because I was pulled by the woman
into the sea of people and song.

The chamber maid new her way, there was a pattern to the
chaos in that a maze of walkways was left open so that
travel from one social area to another was possible, at
least to those who were familiar with the workings of
this celebration. Inside the festival there seemed to be
different levels of noise. As we traveled for a good
fifteen minutes the gay atmosphere softened. We came out
of the fabulous colors of clothing and naked flesh into a
space of benches occupied by men in robes of deep green
and many folds, they leaned close to one another and
spoke to the ear. My guide slowed as we arrived to them,
almost showing a sign of respect by bowing her head as we
passed.

I see could ahead now as these goers were seated and
calm, they were sober and watched as we went. In the
center of the hall was a raised area in the floor, steps
covered in fabric and furs. Candles burned in this
portion of the hall, not the flaming torches. Their wax
was scented, there flame deep orange that cast a light
upon the faces and deep shadows where luminance could not
reach. Upon the top of the steps among blankets and
pillows was a man, by his side were women in fine
dresses.

"The duke." Whispered the woman. She let go my hand and
bowed at the base. "Lord," He did not seem to notice her
when she spoke. One of his girls walked down to her, they
exchanged short words. She came back to where I was
standing. "I have requested his attention. Sit we will
wait until he speaks to us." It looked as if the duke was
not concerned when he would get to us. We sat and the
drone about us continued.

"What is the Festival of Night?" I asked, wanting to
know more about the strange world I had entered. This
seemed like a good time to gather some information.

"It is a wonderful event." The woman said. "You do not
know where you are, I know this. None of the outsiders
know where they are. This will pass in time.

"Pass in time?" I hissed. She hushed me with a finger to
my lips. Some of the green robes looked our way. "Pass in
time?" I repeated.

"Yes, listen to me now, I am doing you this favor
because you have information about the riders." She
leaned closer. "You have forgotten your last life, all
that is left is a vague feeling of something important. I
urge you strongly to forget it all. It is over."

"How can I forget, I need to go back?"

"No, many come and waste away trying to find an exit,
There is none. Important is this, this is your life now,
you will have a new name and in time you will find a new
purpose. Most must learn this lesson on their own."

I was quite for a bit, my name. I tried to think, to
sift through the muddled numbness that was my memory.
What was my name? I could not recall.

"Your name is no longer there so don't look." she
stated. "That's what you were doing, was it not? Trying
to find your name?"

"Yes." I said. "I don't remember." She chuckled.

"Give your self a name, do it now."

"How do I do that?" I asked.

"Some go to a Namer. I don't recommend it. They will
charge you for looking in a book and picking one. Think
for a second and a name will come to you, say it to me as
soon as it does."

I asked, "Is it that easy?"

"Many things in life are easy, most just do not do
them." She placed her hand on my shoulder.  I closed my
eyes and looked into my mind. I felt her fingers squeeze.

"Sebastian." I said.

"Good name young man, Is that it? She questioned.

I shut my eyes tighter and delved deeper into an empty
spot that was at one time filled with my past. One image
came to my head, one of the coast and a grand ship in
sparkling water. From somewhere I heard the voice of my
youth, the voice that had told me throughout my life to
go forward, yet I did not. It was the same voice that
told me to walk into the fog.

There was a story I once heard, about the Vikings.

'And when they die, it is a sad and happy time. Sad that
they are gone from the group, their days of making love
and singing and drinking mead are over, their skills will
no longer save lives or fashion weapons or ships. It is
sad that the spirit is gone. But it is happy because the
Viking is an honorable warrior and he will return to the
sea which gave all the earth life. He will sail at sunset
upon his pyre of fire and horse and maid, into the
bleeding sky. Valhalla awaits him in the morning. This is
his new life and he lets go of the past as his ashes
become the surf.'

"Sebastian of the Sea." I looked at her, she smiled.

"That is fine young man. Sebastian of the Sea."  She
tried it on her lips.

"How old am I?" I asked. I felt old, I thought I was an
older man when I came through the fog.

"I cannot be sure." she rubbed her hands over my back
and neck. "You cannot be older than your Seventeenth
year."

"That's impossible."

"Nothing is impossible, physically you are a youth, but
passing through the wall has many affects. I'm sure you
are much older in your head. Don't let it bother you,
time passes in odd ways here, I do not understand how it
all works."

"The wall affects those who pass through, why?" I was
still without answers.

"Don't question what nobody knows. I'll tell you this.
Before the Festival of Night of the last quarter a girl
had passed through. I did not see her with my own eyes,
for she was in another wing. But a close friend of mine
whom I trust with my life said that upon her back were
the wings of a raven. That is how the wall changes some."

I leaned against a pillow after that and did not look at
her anymore. I let the all consuming atmosphere surround
me. I was not dreaming, or perhaps I was dreaming before
and had just awaken. For good or worse reality was
sinking in, I was realizing that this was where I was and
nothing was going to change. My eyes were heavy; the
smoke and the chatter hypnotized me.

I woke to the sound of steel against stone and the old
woman shakings. All about the pedestal of the duke were
soldiers in arms.

"What's happening?" I asked.

"The war counsel. They have returned, tonight we will
find out how the talks go in the halls of Cor Asleff."

"The talks?" I questioned.

"Shhh, and listen." She put a hand over my mouth, I pushed
it down.

The green robes were all standing as a soldier in fine
sliver metal climbed the steps about half way toward the duke. He
stopped and turned, looking out over the audience. Upon
his chest was that same dead tree with a crow flying off,
similar to the mosaic ceiling. This I surmised must be
the crest of the duke.

The soldier was old, not weak, but ageing. Beneath his
helm could be seen locks of gray hair and upon is face
were the gray hairs of a few days beard.

"That is Captain Luc of the Ravens Harp, He is commander
of the duke's forces."

The captain spoke in a deep voice when he addressed the
duke, I could tell that he was also speaking to the green
robes. "My lord duke, I have returned from the halls of
Cor Asleff. I will not beg my efforts lord, the talks
adjourned four days ago and no compromise was reached in
the trade economics with that particular piece of rock. I
lack to articulate the foreboding I feel, and to inform
that within a fortnight we will be at war in Cor Asleff."
He was quite after this, all eyes on the duke.

"Damn them Luc, I will give them war." Shouted the duke.

"Lord I pray to you, no more fighting."

The duke shot the soldier a cold glance. Said. "War."
He pointed at the green robes. "You know what to do."
I heard a bustling as the greens exited leaving a gaping entry.
"Luc, arm your men and march. I want representation in the Halls
of Peace."

"Yes lord." And the soldier was gone his guard behind
him. The duke paced back and forth upon his perch. At
that time I wanted to leave, get back to that feather
filled bed.

"What is it woman." He shouted

"Lord," bowed the service woman. "I have brought a
newcomer, he claims he was assaulted by the riders upon
our very gate."

"What say you?" asked the duke. He was looking at me, my
mouth was dry.

"Yes, lo-lord." I got the word stuck on my tongue. "The
riders beat me, I was at the wall and could find no way
in." The duke was silent for a time, he paced among his
women.

"Have him see a wizard, I have no time for these
matters." With that the duke sat and I heard him shout
for some music.

"That is all?" I asked the maid.

"Yes, I will arrange for a wizard to stop by your room."

She turned to leave, "Find your way back, until then
enjoy the festival." She was gone in a rush of passersby.
I was alone again in a strange place.

I sat at the foot of the duke, thinking about the
emptiness in my head, the singers were grand and I
watched three girls in silk sing in a tumbling language,
when they were done I thought I might try to find my way
back, I was beginning to leave when I heard the flute.
The most beautiful dance of sound I'd ever heard, I could
not see who was playing so I stayed on, and like the
woman said time was passing with the flow of the music, I
felt drunk. I looked through the crowd of those leaving
glimpsed the minstrel. He was my bath boy. Sitting in the
same fawn tunic, legs crossed on a bench he played, his
full lips dancing over the wooden instrument like soft
kisses. His hair was highlighted in the flames of
torches, his skin golden and orange like the fire. Then
he stopped, I wanted him to continue. And he sang.

try not to look at the sunrise
and the creatures that are no longer free
because they all came from the ocean
and they've lost their way to the sea

I asked the sailor for his stories
and he lifted my up to his knee
son you don't want to know about the sailors
you can take it from me

Some say they've talked to the mermaids
well their lien' to you this day
because I've talked to the sea folk
and they ain't got nothing to say

Then he began to play his flute again, and I slept the
sleep of the drunk, when my eyes rolled open the great
hall was quiet and dark, everyone was gone.

"Its ok, I stayed until you woke." It was the boy, he
was sitting the same way on the bench as I had last seen
him.

"You put me to sleep."

"I'm sorry,"

"How long?"

"I don't know, awhile."

"Where is everyone?" I asked.

"Left, to their rooms. Do you know where your room is?"

"No.." I rubbed my head. He was by my side helping me up.

"I'll take you it." He whispered.

We walked across the empty chamber, each step echoing
against the distance walls. It was dark and the boy's arm
was around my waist. I felt my dizzy and my head hurt. I
let my hand drop to his shoulder. We walked through
familiar territory, through the long hall I had already
passed, to the large oak door with its steel brace. A
fire was burning in my room, he shut the door behind us.

"You should sleep." he said.

"I can't." I replied. "Where do you stay?" He was silent
walking around looking at the paintings.

"I have a cot in the servant quarters."

I was very attracted to this youth, I remembered what I'd
seen before, the man in boy mating as lovers.

"Would you stay with me awhile?" I asked. He turned, his
soft features so beautiful in the fire, his eyes were
wild.
"Yes, I'll stay for a time." He sat next to me on
the bed, I put my hand on his neck.

"May I touch you?" His small tongue licked his lips,

"Yes." He sighed.

My penis was hard now and poking up from my tunic, I
didn't care. My hand glided over his cheek, my finger
brushed his lower lip and his nose and his eyes. They
fluttered shut, he laid back in the deep feathers. I
leaned over and inhaled the scent of his abdomen, like
the forest and berries. I pushed inside his tunic and
felt his bare navel, soft and muscular. I pushed open his
shirt revealing a pale white torso. I watched the long
intake of breath and as he parted his lips, his young
chest and small erect nipples. I massaged his skin, both
hands running down his rib cage to his slight hips; there
I stopped, and kissed that place right above his pants.
He made the next move, with small fingers he rubbed his
crotch through the light fabric, he undid the string that
cinched them around his waist. Again My hands roamed over
his shoulders, under his arms across his chest contouring
his frame that morphed to sinewy legs, but I did not
stop. My hands moved lower along with his soft clothing,
across his pubic mound, down to the side of each buttock,
to his knees which I kissed, to his feet which I kissed.
He rolled over on the bed and I saw his perfect ass, firm
from climbing and running and whatever this lad did, pale
like the rest of him, but soft because he was a boy.

I looked at him in the dancing shadow of the fire, the
erotic creature that consumed the philosophers and
artists through the ages. The soft body that is neither
man nor woman, unexplainable, because he his a man but
more erotic than a woman. His lust is that of a man, his
kiss and smell like a woman, his cries like an angle.

I rubbed his back, each muscle I found lined a hollow
bone, like the birds. I kissed him a thousand times and
he whimpered with pleasure.

"uhn...mhhmm...huu..."

Breath in breath out.

I turned him over, he was hard like me, with out hair,
and with another sort of lust, eroticism. He was sizable
I assumed, for a boy his age and the way his prick
throbbed, bobbing with each beat of his heart, I could
tell he was ready for anything I would do to him. I
kissed his forehead, his nose his lips which parted and I
felt his tongue against mine for an instant, then I moved
to his chin and chest and bellybutton, and his cock,
which found its way into my mouth. And I sucked once and
he screamed, he bucked, his hands were in my hair and I
was sucking hard and fast. His legs wrapped around my
shoulders and I lifted him into the air, one hand on his
butt and one on his back. He puffed his chest with air
and let it go in little gasps. Joints and muscles
tightened hard like steel as he shook, as if freezing. He
moaned once, loud and long, and made a noise in the back
of his throat. And then he was soft, and his head fell
back and I was still holding him with my strong arms, and
his childish legs fell down from around my back and I was
still sucking on his dick.  He was still in the air when
his arms went limp and I suckled him like a vampire on an
apple of blood.

What a time an artist would have painting this portrait
of man and boy engaged in this most sacred dance. What
the poet would say with words that rhymed. I laid him
down and brought the covers up over us and he slept. I
watched him and touched him for hours before eventually
giving in to the blackness. In this world with out
limits, or laws where man takes boy and time passes with
music.

...

I'm lost now with my story telling, the world I found my
way into is strange indeed. It is a blur of the next few
weeks, months, years? I don't know. The boy and I made
love on other occasions. I found his name to be Kiel, he
was a servant or a slave, he was a free spirit when not
performing his duties and finding himself in my room. As
much as I would love to describe more of Kiel I must move
on in my narration; there are other things that will come
of the most sexual nature.

To Be Continued...