Date: Thu, 3 Jul 2003 20:29:40 -0700 (PDT)
From: Corrinne S <quasito_cat@yahoo.com>
Subject: Dark Wishes Installment 24: Part 4 Chapters 13-15

Note: This is a gay themed fantasy novel about kings
and magic, love and war.  Although I will often allude
to sexual encounters, there are no scenes of sexual
acts for this is, by and large, a love story.  This
author claims exclusive copyright to the characters,
settings, and plot.

Dark Wishes

M.C. Gordon

Part Four: Devlin

Chapter 13

     Two more years passed quickly, for Devlin and his
friends grew ever more immersed in their studies.  The
master archivist despaired that Devlin would ever
choose a final field of study.  To hasten a decision,
he set Devlin to work with Dulva or Kuyo, and
sometimes both, hoping to spark his imagination.

     Devlin had other friends, with some of whom he
spent time exploring awakened sexual awareness.  After
a lengthy lecture from both the master healer and Frit
he agreed to use the bothersome fish bladders at each
encounter.  And in time, he became accustomed to the
use until it no longer bothered him.

     At the end of his third year of study he received
a message from his father:

     `I was taken last winter with a chill in my lungs
which left me weak for some while.  It was not serious
enough to inform you at the time.  I write now to let
you know that I have regained my health and do well.
Your last missive arrived late, the mountain passages
being closed due to snow.  All here send their wishes
and regards as I am sure you will hear from Mut who
delivers both this message to you and the pony to King
Trelaine.'

     Unaware of life in Aolane, Brunel could not know
that the message would go from Mut to a page who would
deliver it to Devlin.  As would the pony go from Mut
to the horsemaster who would inform the King of a new
arrival.  Devlin carefully rolled the miniscule scroll
and laid it on his pallet.  As swiftly as his feet
could carry him he was down the stairs, out of the
castle proper, and running to the paddocks.

     "Mut!" he cried out when he saw his uncle, "how
are you?  How is my father?"

     Brunel's youngest brother was hard pressed to
remain on his feet when Devlin's body impacted his.
He gave his nephew a hug in return.  "Brunel is well
as ever," he said.  "Takes more'n lung chills to bring
him to his knees.  Healer from Blanau Ffestein said he
was recovered and stronger than ever he was before."

     "What did Da mean when he said you brought a
pony?" Devlin asked.

     "Aye, and a fine pony he is.  Brunel thought the
time right to show His Majesty one of the Appizzi.
Thought the King might know of a market for the breed,
if Horsemaster decides it be a new breed, that is."

     Mut told Devlin all he could of happenings in
Caern Arvis as they walked to the stall where the
horse master and king were both examining the Appy
very closely.

     "Is this the breed you spoke of?" Trelaine asked
when he realized Devlin had joined them.

     "Yes, Sire," Devlin replied.  "The Lippizi Lord
Fanna gave as a bride gift lacked ability to get about
in high mountain ranges.  The Appalo were more rugged
and had the thick coats required for survival in harsh
winters.  Rangel decided to cross the two."

     "An excellent decision," the horse master said.
"This is a beautiful breed.  Are they all spotted?"

     "All save one.  Each generation has one black
stallion," Mut answered.   "This one's sire is Bindle,
a stallion Devlin raised himself."

     Devlin's delight was written on his face and he
took a keener interest in the colt.

 . . .

     Summer approached and the archives were closing
until fields could be tended and the harvest brought
in for many of the students were from farming
communities.  Likewise, those whose families tended
herds were expected at home until all of the newborns
could be located in the vast open ranges and hills
that comprised most of Elanen.

     Devlin was accustomed to spending the long
summers with Sondred and Belen.  He hoped to spend
this year another way and had convinced the master
archivist to provide him a reason.  When he was
convinced that all was in order, he requested an
audience with Trelaine.

     "You wanted to see me?" the High King asked when
Devlin was escorted to his private apartment in the
castle.

     "Yes, Sire," Devlin answered.  "I have a request
to make of you."

     Trelaine would have granted anything to the young
man who had captured his fancy.  From awkward teenager
to sturdy and self assured twenty-year old, Devlin was
maturing nicely.  The king was aware that Devlin had
also matured sexually and knew of his activities with
his friends.  Indeed, in wanting the sometimes shy lad
to find his first taste of physical pleasure a special
experience, he had suggested Gelemar encourage Devlin
to take an interest in Frit.  Resigned to the fact
that the boy would never show an interest in himself,
Trelaine decided to show his love in other ways ... such
as granting almost anything he desired.

     "What is your request?" the king asked.

     "I would like to spend the summer in Caern
Arvis," Devlin said.  "I wish to see my family.  And
Master Gueron has assigned Pistach the task of
sketching things he has never seen before to challenge
his abilities."

     "Devlin," Trelaine answered, "you need not seek
my permission to leave or stay.  You are of age now
and no longer have a guardian.  Take as many of your
friends as you wish; but not so many that it will
overwhelm your father's household."

     "Thank you, Majesty," Devlin replied and kissed
his king's hand to show his gratitude.

     A great, unbidden shudder ran through Trelaine
and he shoved his desire to the back of his mind.

     . . .

     A merry band set off for Caern Arvis three weeks
later.  King Trelaine had decided to join Devlin and
Pistach on their journey, claiming that he wished to
see more of the unique horses bred by Devlin's family.
 Sondred, Devlin's first and closest friend, was
joining them as a member of the royal guard.  Gelemar
would also be traveling with them, Frit more deeply
involved in his study than ever as he was to stand
before the Masters for his official recognition as a
complete Healer.

     A new addition had been made to the royal guard
mere months earlier.  Shanklen, once a royal page, had
proven extremely adept at his training to become a
warrior and earned his newest position through
competition.  He was the youngest to ever join the
royal guard at five and twenty years of age.  Middle
son of a master weaver, there was neither property nor
fortune for him to inherit.  His two eldest brothers
had been apprenticed as weavers, his two youngest to
the horse master.  His father had great hopes for his
future and had sent him to the castle for
apprenticeship and occupation.  Tall and well featured
with sandy blonde hair, which was constantly falling
in his face, and brilliant blue eyes, Shanklen had
already left a trail of broken hearts across Elanen.
Trelaine had given him a firm lecture prior to the
beginning of their journey, fearful that Shanklen
would set his predatory gaze on Devlin as an object of
conquest.

Chapter 14

     Dermont shook his head in dismay as he watched
the moonlight play across Trelaine's face the second
evening of their journey.  His king was downhearted
and Dermont knew the reason.  As Captain of the Royal
Guard he had assigned Shanklen enough duties on the
trail to grant him little free time.  Dermont assumed
that the young guard would drop each night, too
exhausted to dally with anyone.  Yet he still managed
to spend every minute of his free time with Devlin and
Pistach.  And Trelaine was very aware of Shanklen's
actions.

     Dermont called the young guard to him and
demanded an explanation after threatening to have him
mustered out in disgrace.  Shanklen, caught completely
by surprise, stuttered an explanation which left
Dermont's jaw agape.  Finally, after hours of
agonizing over his decision, Dermont asked Sondred and
Gelemar to join him in a private conversation.

     "Our king is besotted by this youth, Devlin," he
told them.  "I have advised him against losing his
heart to this lad but he will not pay heed.  It falls
to us to intervene. This is my suggested plan ..."

     Sondred and Gelemar were both amazed at the
depths of Dermont's deceptiveness.  They glanced at
each other and began to laugh.

     "I believe this plan of yours will work, but only
if we are very careful," Gelemar said.  "Our King can
detect untruths so we much guard our minds closely."

     "He has no reason to suspect us of anything
untoward," Sondred replied.  The three friends set
about their separate tasks.

 . . .

     Dermont eased the duties he had set for Shanklen
allowing the young man to spend more time with Devlin
and Pistach, an action not unnoticed by Trelaine.

     "He will break the boy's heart," the King told
his Captain.

     "He is determined, Sire," Dermont replied.  "So
strong is Shanklen's desire that even threatening to
discharge him from your service will not deter him.
Perhaps if he had a competitor he would reconsider,
but none stand in his way."

     Trelaine could not find fault with Dermont or
Shanklen for the captain spoke the truth.

     "Was it difficult for you to win Frit?" he asked
Gelemar that evening as they shared their meal around
the campfire with Dermont and Sondred.

     "Not at all, Majesty," Gelemar replied.  "I asked
him to join me for a walk on the evening of his
eighteenth birthday and he agreed."  A wistful smile
crossed his face as he remembered the blossoming of
their love.  A chuckle followed.  "Frit had set his
cap for me when he was but sixteen.  I was assigned to
the horse master at the time and Frit was a
journeyman.  Although we spent much time together, he
managed to hide his intentions.  At least I never
sensed anything.  He later explained to me that every
word he said and movement he made was designed to
capture my attention and desire."

     "It helped that everyone else knew he would have
you alone," Sondred remarked.  "You had no competition
to face.  Any who might have shown an interest in him
could sense his focused determination."

     Gelemar stared at his brother in shock.
"Everyone knew but I?" he asked.

     "You were blinded by your own love for him,"
Sondred said.  "I knew because he confided in me."

     "In you?" Gelemar asked, stunned.

     "Of course," Sondred replied.  "Who better to
know the intimate details of your likes and dislikes
than your younger brother.  Remember, Frit and I were
housed together at the archive."

     "In fact," Trelaine added, enjoying his friend's
sudden loss of composure, "it was Sondred who
suggested I assign you to Master Tasken when Frit was
learning to tend the horses."

     "So it was a conspiracy," Gelemar finally said.

     "Indeed," Trelaine remarked, touching Gelemar's
shoulder.  "And a successful one, for the two of you
have been together now for thirteen years."

 . . .

     "Brilliant," Dermont laughed as he and Sondred
walked back to the rest of the guard.  "Throwing
Gelemar into a state of confusion reminded our
sovereign that he was once part of a conspiracy of
love himself."

     "His Majesty opened the way when he questioned
Gelemar about the courtship," Sondred replied.  "Frit
had been my friend from the day he was brought to
Aolane with the rest of his village.  I wanted him to
find true love and felt assured that he was perfect
for my brother."

     "I am beginning to believe that you formed a
conspiracy of one," Dermont said to the man who would,
in all probability, replace him one day as Trelaine's
captain."

Chapter Fifteen

     Their journey the following day was to be
half-day only.  The band of travelers had camped near
a small lake of which Trelaine was extremely fond.
Nearly circular in shape, the edges of the lake were
lined with thick foliage which attracted small
butterflies.  Unlike their larger cousins which had so
fascinated Devlin three years earlier, these were
barely the size of the end knuckle of a small boy's
finger and of more subdued colors.

     The lake was also home to several different
species of fishes and Trelaine bade all rise early to
acquire enough fish to provide their noon meal.  As
they broke into groups to seek the best places to find
fish, Shanklen called Devlin to one side.

     "Tell Pistach that you wish to fish with me by
yourself," he said.

     Devlin's right eyebrow raised itself.  "Why?" he
asked.

     "Because I wish to spend time alone with you,"
Shanklen replied.

     Devlin looked at the young guard.  Although he
was handsome, quick of wit, and very desirable Devlin
had no interest in him beyond friendship.

     "Please," Shanklen entreated.

     "I do not think that wise," Devlin finally
responded.  "I know your reputation and have no
intention of becoming another trophy for you."

     Shanklen passed his right hand through his shaggy
hair, attempting to pull it back from his forehead.
"You are not in danger," he replied.  "It is not you
who interests me."

     Devlin was momentarily taken aback.  "They why do
you wish to be alone with me?" he asked cautiously.

     "Because I wish to attract Pistach's attention,"
Shanklen answered.

     Devlin stared.  "Pistach?" he asked.  "You are
questing after Pistach?"  He backed up a few feet and
looked Shanklen directly in the eyes.  "And do you
think I will stand idly by whilst you seduce and then
shatter one of my closest friends?"

     "That is one of the reasons I wish to spend time
alone with you," Shanklen answered.  "I am not nearly
so bad as my reputation and need things to be clear
between us.  I know that you will not countenance
anyone harming one of your friends.  Please?"

     "Very well," Devlin finally relented.  "But I
will not tell Pistach that I wish to fish only with
you.  I will enlist Gelemar's aid."

     Devlin left Shanklen standing near one of the
pack horses and set off to find his one-time guardian.

     "I will ask young Pistach to fish with myself and
Sondred," Gelemar agreed when Devlin told him that he
would be fishing with Shanklen.  "Do you really want
to be alone with Shanklen?  Have you fallen prey to
his charms?"

     "He would do better to try charming a snake than
myself," Devlin responded.  "He is a good warrior,
loyal to the King, and I count him among my friends.
But I am not about to drop my breeches at his bidding.
 He wishes to speak with me of Pistach who,
apparently, has caught his interest.  He believes that
if we two are alone together Pistach will become
jealous and desire him.  He also wishes to clear the
matter of his reputation."

     Gelemar looked solemnly at the lad.  "And you
believe he will not cause your young friend to
suffer?"

     "For some reason," Devlin replied, "I think he
believes me able to make his life one of misery should
he bring harm to Pistach's gentle heart."

     Gelemar could not argue that point for he well
knew that if Shanklen caused Pistach any heartache the
King, of his love for Devlin, would parcel out fit
retribution.

     So it was that Trelaine found Pistach joining the
older men.  "Good morn', Pistach," he said, sending
the lad into blushes at having been recognized by his
king.

     Pistach had been a student at the archives from
the time he was eight years of age but considered
himself insignificant and unknown to all save a small
circle of friends and fellow students.  That the High
King knew his name came as a shock to him.

     "Thank you, Your Majesty," he replied, "for
allowing us this opportunity."

     Trelaine reached out and ruffled the chestnut
brown hair with his right hand.  "I thought you would
be with Devlin and Shanklen," he said.

     "I would be, but Sondred and Gelemar requested I
join them instead," the boy replied.

     "Indeed," Trelaine remarked, one dark eyebrow
arched as he looked at the two brothers.

     "I have a request for Pistach which I have not
yet had the opportunity to make," Sondred quickly
replied, for he knew the lad would eventually wonder
why he had been asked to join them.  Turning to face
Pistach he asked, "Would you consider a commission to
sketch a portrait of my wife and children?"  It was a
reasonable idea and Sondred saw his brother nod his
head in approval.

     "I do not believe the Master Archivist will allow
me to accept a commission," Pistach responded, "for I
have not yet been licensed by the craft, but I would
be pleased to give you a portrait as a gift."

     Trelaine congratulated Pistach and went to see
how the rest of the guard were doing, all the while
knowing that two of his friends had seen to it that
the one he loved was alone with a rival.

     One conspiracy wrapped itself around another,
entangled like the vines that grew along the trunks of
the great oak trees until they crossed from canopy to
canopy.

     Devlin and Shanklen managed to provide their
share of fish for the noon meal but they had not
concentrated on fishing.  They had a long and
thoughtful conversation about things in general, and
Pistach in particular.

     "I do not know if I love him," Shanklen had
frankly remarked in answer to a question from Devlin.
"I know that I want to be with him all the time,
protect him, provide for him.  I wish to keep him safe
from the harshness of life, surrounded by nothing but
beauty and peace."

     "And others?" Devlin prodded, "would you continue
to pursue others?"

     "Perhaps," came the honest answer.  "Gelemar
loves Frit with all his being but still turns to one
of his friends on occasion for physical pleasure.  I
will not lie and tell you that I would never look upon
another man with desire.  I can only tell you that I
would defend to my last breath against any man who
threatened Pistach, whether he is with myself or
another.  Surely you can understand that since King
Trelaine feels the same toward you."

     Devlin dropped his fishing line.  "Surely you
jest," he said.  "The King cannot possibly favor me.
He never seeks me out for companionship or
conversation.  Not once has he indicated that he cares
for me more than any other citizen of Elanen."

     "He clings relentlessly to that part of himself
which was Miralen, vowing to never use his title or
magic to entice one to love him.  The problem is that
there were no rivals for his love for Karandal or
Fanna.  He did not consider Sigil a rival for Fanna's
love since he had sent Fanna away himself, denying the
love he felt for him.  He now lives in misery because
you have not fallen desperately in love with him and
sought to gain his attention."

     "I would not, and will not, pursue him," Devlin
replied.  "I have not even been able to decide on my
mastery at the archives; how can I turn my thoughts to
love, especially with the High King?"

     "Would you object if he pursued you?" Shanklen
asked.

     "I do not know," Devlin replied and finally said,
"I do not think I would object, but only because it
will never happen."

     Shanklen threw his head back and laughed.  "Then
we will set ourselves two goals: one to make Pistach
amenable to my courtship, the other to make our Lord
realize that to have you he will have to do something
about it himself."

 . . .

     The King was in no great hurry for the summer
months were just beginning and the kingdom was at
peace.  The one week journey to Caern Arvis seemed
likely to last at least two.

     Devlin spent a great deal of time with Pistach
over the ensuing days for Shanklen had his duties to
tend to.  Dermont had given the young guard the honor
of carrying the Guard's guidon, a simple forked flag
of yellow.  Senior members of the guard took turns
with the great Phoenix rising pennant of the Qell
Lord.

     As they rode each day on the young Lippizi
provided by their king, Devlin recounted Shanklen's
many great qualities and worthiness as a mate.  Each
evening he requested Pistach join him as he sat and
talked with Shanklen, partly because it was necessary
for his and Shanklen's plan to work and partly because
he truly enjoyed his friend's company.

     Two evenings from Caerin Arvis at their present
rate of travel, Pistach joined Sondred and Gelemar to
ask about the portrait Sondred had requested of him.
He had never seen Lady Belen or the twins, Hyptia and
Mahon, and was curious about them.  When Sondred had
waxed poetic about his wife and children, the center
of his life, and Pistach thought he could visualize
them, he headed back toward that section of the night
camp he shared with Devlin.

     He stopped at the sound of whispered words and
the sight of Devlin going into Shanklen's arms to
receive a kiss.  The kiss was brief and he heard a
resounding `smack' as they drew apart.  It was enough.
 He had been enamored of Shanklen for years and
harbored a hope that he might one day see that love
returned.  Turning, he stumbled off blindly into the
darkness.

     "Did you hear something?" Devlin asked, pulling
away from the embrace.  Their plan seemed to be
working for both Pistach and Trelaine were showing
definite signs of increased interest.  The embrace and
kiss had been one of friendship and joy that one or
the other should soon be locked in the arms of a
lover.

     A muffled sob and the sound of twigs breaking
caught Shanklen's ear.  "Pistach," he whispered to
Devlin.  "It has gone too far.  I must find him."

 . . .

     Dashing madly through the dark, blinded by his
tears, Pistach ran until he felt himself collide
against something strong and fast.  He thought he had
hit a tree until two hands steadied him by the
shoulders, lest he fall, and he found himself looking
up into the face of the High King.

     "What troubles you so?" Trelaine asked, kneeling
down for he towered over the small lad.

     "I am so skinny and ugly," Pistach managed to say
between sobs.  "He will never love me, no one will."
The tears poured down his face and Trelaine took the
boy in his arms and held him.

     "You are not ugly at all," he said.  "You have
beautiful green eyes and a firm jaw. There is nothing
about you that is not pleasing."  He was at a loss to
comfort the lad, whose heart had apparently just been
ripped asunder.

     "My nose is too large and I look like twigs
thrown together," Pistach replied.

     "You look like all that is best and good in this
world or any other," a voice said.

     Shanklen emerged from the shadows of the trees
into the opening where the moonlight shown down on
Pistach and Trelaine.  Barely glancing at his liege
lord, he took the lad from the king's arms into his
own.  Cupping Pistach's face in his hands and wiping
the tears away with his thumbs he said, "I love you.
I know I will need to prove that and when I have then
I will bow before the High King and beg him
acknowledge that we are life-mates."

     "But I saw you kiss Devlin," Pistach managed
between tears.

     "We are friends and were sharing a moment of joy.
 Devlin has never been my intention, nor I his.  There
is only one whom I desire, and that is you."

     The kiss Pistach received was not hurried as was
the one with Devlin.  It was long and slow, sensuous
and loving.  It gave far more than it received, for it
was a promise of giving.  Forgotten and ignored,
Trelaine walked away and turned at the edge of the
clearing to see Shanklen's hands caressing Pistach's
slight frame, running across his shoulders and down
his arms, drawing the lad closer to his own body.

     Trelaine withdrew and left the new lovers alone.


To be continued.

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