Date: Thu, 31 May 2018 02:08:06 +0000 From: Nicholas Nicholby Subject: Boys Guild Chapter 7, Gay, SciFi/Fantasy, Adult Youth, Prolific Authors This story is a work of fiction. It never happened, it never will. The characters and locations are all make believe and any resemblance to any place or person, living or dead, is simply in the mind of the reader and totally unintentional. Situations and sexual activities of the characters are fantasy, don't try dragon riding at home. The story is also the first in a series of stories about Kind Draviad's Realm. Please let me know if you enjoy by email to nicholas6996 (at) hot mail dot com Copyright 2018 by Nicholas Nicholby, all rights reserved. Not to be distributed or duplicated without express written permission of the author. The author hereby grants the Nifty Archive a non-exclusive, worldwide, royalty-free, perpetual, and non-cancellable license to use, modify or alter and edit copy for clarity or style, reproduce, display, make compilations of and distribute the work. The Boys Guild The Miller was addressing a missive to the Archivist, and was perturbed that it seemed his ink was perpetually mixed with flour. He hastily scribbled Nifty Archive Alliance PMB 159 333 Mamaroneck Ave White Plains, NY 10605 On the outer part of the parchment and began folding the sheet and the enclosed King's Draft for 20 silver. He might have hated the act of writing, but he thoroughly enjoyed the creation of a letter. In particular the arcane folding he was carefully completing to make this a European Trap Letter which totally encapsulated and protected the enclosure. He had first seen this type of letter in an engraving shared with him by the Wizard. The image by Albrecht Dürer entitled Portrait of Desiderius Erasmus of Rotterdam writing a letter showed a small example on the table. It was when the Wizard produced a copy of a painting by Bartolomeo Passarotti which is titled Domenico Giuliani and His Servant that the Miller's attention was completely taken. The painting shows three sheets of paper in various forms of being folded with a comely servant boy holding a folded piece of paper, presumably representing a completed letter. That the author was writing on pre-folded paper and that another finished letter was shown folded but not sealed was as intriguing enough for the Miller to turn from the beauty of the servant boy and observe the beauty in the creation of the letter. The Wizard had laughed that perhaps the Miller was getting old in that paper would replace comely youth as a matter of interest. The Miller had grinned back that he had need to send a small donation to the Nifty Archive and that time and the youth would wait, but the Post would not. The Wizard agreed that the works of the Archivist were essential and that it would be good that all should send a small donation of support. Chapter 7 - A Tower Shower The boys clung to the shadows since Mig had given the tunic back to Cobar and was pronouncedly more green, at least when in the flickering lamp lights. Their first destination was the docks, they needed Mig to identify the ship that had brought him from his own lands. As they wound through the alleys and other back courtyards Tomas thought it was a small miracle that Mig had somehow found his way to the Boys' Guild in the first place. The scuttling and scurrying of all manner of animals as the boys invaded their domain of night kept Zekial on a continual alert. He did not want to miss the scraping of a man's feet among the other sounds and be suddenly caught up by any of the evil that made its way by dark. Coming down the last of the storm gutter passageways between the disreputable pubs and notorious Red Door Housess of Profane Orechasm the boys peaked cautiously across the quay at the ships riding moored to the bollards. There was some activity as cargo was still loaded and unloaded at all hours of the watch. Rough voices shouted orders and curses as windlasses slipped and ropes frayed as easily as tempers. Mig could see among the riggings, the dead trees and vines as he called them, and spied the broken mizzenmast of the ship on which he had been confined. He told Tomas and Zekial that the top part of the tree had parted when a lightening bolt had struck it directly during their passage through a storm. Zekial cast a small spell and Tomas watched fascinated as a muddy puddle became a looking glass of sorts and they could see the bow of the ship and its figurehead of a rampant whale and the name: Rorqual. It flew no flags and there was no activity around it or on its deck. Satisfied with the ship information the boys left the quay and headed up the prominence by way of the storm gutters and tiny spaces between grand buildings. Zekial took them directly past the grand official Guild Halls of the Central Square and then through the area of the Gem Houses where the streets were lit like day although the back alleys were still darker than the night. Tomas knew his own area of the town and routes to the postern gate and the butchers courtyard but he knew nothing of the space above and beyond the Guild Halls where moneyed merchants and noble families lived up close to the castle curtain wall to afford them quick refuge within the bailey or the keep. Zekial had to keep close herd on both boys as even in the dark of the moon their heads seemed on permanent swivel because of the amazing buildings, gardens and fountains. Suddenly they found themselves up against a rampart wall of the castle. Zekial pulled them into a dark recess at the castle's barbican gate, "Quickly, take off your shirt Tomas." He was taking his own off and rolling the waist band of his pants up so they appeared tighter. "Mig, you hold these shirts. Tomas you and I will try to look the very image of red orechasm. I will spell Mig so he is difficult to see and with our nakedness the guards will have really only one place they want to look anyway. Let me do the talking, just keep Mig between us Tomas," Zekial outlined his plan as he pulled Tomas' tattered breeches together in the back and tied a knot which made them appear minuscule and tight across the front. Leading the boys forward they passed through the barbican and the guardhouse and had only the lustful eyes of sleepy gate guards to fool. As they stepped through the guardhouse passage and into the outer bailey Tomas thought they had passed the guards, but Zekial knew better. Turning toward the Western Tower he stopped before a dark recess and said, "My Master calls us to come see him." "Aye, he calls you to do more than be seen methinks," a gruff voice came from the depths. A tall guard with braid upon his epaulets stepped forward. Tomas shivered as the guard's eyes almost molested him as they looked upon his body. "Mayhaps I should have a small taste of this one to be sure your Master is getting the finest available?" the guard looked at Tomas and caressed his own stiff lance visible under his braies where his tunic hung open at his waist. "Mayhaps and then we would be late to my Master and he would cast to know the reason and the images in this one's mind would tell. The Master is not known to enjoy another man's second helpings. I think he would not blame the boy either," Zekial said enough to imply the threat. "Aye, well go then, I'll not turn down another's seconds when your Master finishes and sends him scampering back out," the guard ran a finger down Tomas' chest and stomach and stopped to fiddle with the living stones barely hidden under the tight trousers folds. Tomas shuddered at the touch and the guard took that as a sign of anticipation and laughed and flicked his thumb hard against the stone he had been fiddling. The sharp pain raced to Tomas' brain and he gasped and Zekial quickly pushed him on toward the tower where a deep set doorway soon swallowed them from the night. "Quiet now, put your shirt back on. Mig you are visible once again. We step inside and wait. The Wizard will see us or no, his choice will be made clear. If no, we must find a way around that guard or Tomas will be more than sore come morning," Zekial placed his hands against the door in some strange pattern and suddenly it popped open and they slipped inside. The door banged shut behind them with a hollow thud that told it was secured. They stood in utter darkness and Zekial kept a hand on them to prevent them moving. Slowly a glow began from the right hand side and they could see stairs winding down in that direction. The first step seemed to be making the glow. In the soft light Tomas could see raising stairs in the other direction, but the glowing step indicated which way they were to go. As Zekial quietly guided them to the steps the glow began to descend from step to step. They followed its lead. Coming to another opening in the inner wall the glow moved off the steps and into a large room. Soon the glow turned into true light and it seemed the room was softly illuminated from the stones of its ceiling. On the left there was a fire place, a large chair, several large puffy pillows and a thick bear rug spread out on the floor. Tomas gasped again seeing it was a White Bear rug, something talked of, but he had never seen a White Bear although they were said to have once frequented the far side river bank during the White Bear Moon. >From the chair came a soft voice, "Well Zekial, you astound me once again! I don't believe an Elt has visited this castle in many thousand hundreddays. Take your friends and show them how the showers work. Leave their clothes out, we will launder or mayhaps burn them. Come back to the fire when you all smell more of your own nature and less of the town's grime and a ship's filth." "Yes Master," Zekial made a small bow and pulled the boys across to the right. Stripping off his own clothes he indicated they should pile theirs with his and he pulled them naked into the middle of the floor. Reaching up he grasped a handle hanging in the air and a drizzle of soft warm water began to fall upon them. Tomas giggled and Mig turned his face up into the water and laughed. It was like a summer rain inside the forest but right here inside the tower. Zekial pulled a little harder and the drizzle became a true rain shower and the three boys began to dance and frolic under the warmth. Zekial found the soap and began with Tomas and sudsed him from tip to toe. He turned to Mig and the boy melted into his hands as the soap washed away untold days of blistering sun and salty sea and wind blown dirt. Zekial wasn't quite sure what to do about Mig's slit, in fact it shocked him so he actually pulled away at first sight and gasped, "You said you were a boy! You have a slit! What game are you playing against us now?" "I am a boy. It is not a slit! It is my lance's sheath, watch and I will wash myself!" Mig bristled. "Wait," Tomas stepped toward Mig. "He is a boy. I will help him wash. Remember how often you have shown me that what appears is not always what is real." Tomas sudsed up his hands and first rubbed Mig's chest and stomach and then from his toes up to his thighs. The Elt was purring into his chest, Tomas could hear the soft rumble. Using gentle stokes Tomas sudsed around Mig's hips, across his bum cheeks and down between his crack. Coming to the front he softly rubbed across the sheath and around it and then dropped the soap and rinsed his hands. With one finger of each hand he tried to remember how Mig had held them and placed his hands and pressed. Nothing happened. Mig giggled and took Tomas' hands and moved then very slightly and then thrust his hips forward. The slit opened up, the three living stones dropped out, the long thin lance unfolded and was pointing down at the cake of soap on the wet floor. Tomas picked up the soap and sudsed again and began to wash the lance as he sometimes washed Zekial's. Soft fingers running around and up from the sheath attachment to the lance head. The other hand caressing the living stones and rolling them around gently in their individual purses. Mig's lance reacted in a very boyish manner. It began to rise. In fact it rose quite quickly and soon was pointing at the ceiling. Tomas and Zekial were astounded at how long it was. Easily the longest either of them had ever seen, Mig's lance head was well above his tiny birthbutton. Tomas judged the stiffness to have made it at least three times longer than Mig's foot although it was not bigger around than Mig's thumb. Mig groaned his pleasure at being washed and slowly pumped his hips forward and back reveling in the feelings of Tomas' hand. "Okay you horny beasts, there will be time enough to explore later," the soft voice came from near the fire. "Dry off, there is mulled wine and food here. Then Miglodiandecidua can tell us the reason he is here." The water ceased to fall from the ceiling but a warm breeze swirled round the boys and they found themselves drying without effort or gooseflesh. The boys giggled their way across to the big White Bear rug. It was as soft as it looked and the fire's flickering licked tongues of heat deliciously up their bodies. "How did you know my name Sir?" Mig put his back to the fire and looked over at the Wizard illuminated by the flickering light. "You wear it in your Glimmer, it swirls around and round your head, much like a crown," the Wizard said. "Oh, I did not know, I could see other Elt's Glimmers, but it didn't show the name. Your Glimmer is different too. It is the color of kindness and good, but it is shot through with gold, even more than Tomas'," Mig cocked his head as he looked at the Wizard closely. "So young Elt, why do you invade our town and castle this Dark of the Falling Leaves Moon? Have we not paid proper attention to the seasons and the Mother's herbaceous children?" the Wizard asked. He also waved the boys to the glasses of mulled wine and pastries on a small table. "No Lord, it is nothing so important as that. I was hunting in our woods when suddenly I was the hunted and captured. A ship brought me and others locked as slaves here and when it set vines to the shore I walked the vines and was soon free. Tomas here admitted me to the Guild of Boys and Cobar the Baker's Boy fed me and now Zekial brings me to you. We are all afraid that the slavers will look for me and Tomas does not think I can hide very well. He is right about that here in town, but in a woods they would never ever find me," Mig told his tale. "And yet in your own woods they not only found you, they captured you," the Wizard said. "Well I do not think they found me. They seemed beyond surprised. I think I must have been careless and fell into a trap designed for other beings," Mig admitted. "Slavery is outlawed among all the people and I believe among your kind too?" the Wizard saw Mig acknowledge with a nod. "So, we must deal with that somehow. And as to hiding you, I too think you would stand out. We must think of a way to hide you in plain sight." "What of the Miller?" Tomas had a sudden inspiration. "Mig could stay with the Miller's Boy. He would have good warning of other people coming, it is not easily approached. And he could have the woods nearby to run and play within. The Miller's Boy would not, in fact could not, tell of him if asked and the Miller seemed a very kind sort." "Why would the Miller's Boy not be able to tell?" Zekial asked. "He is mute, or at least functionally mute. The Miller asked me to look at him and I simply have not had time, no - have not made time, to go that way. This might be a chance for me to rectify that error also. I like this idea Tomas. I hear you have quite a number of ideas?" the Wizard said. "Now eat up, the pastries will go bad. Tomorrow we will visit the Miller." "But I have to ready the Print Shop," Tomas protested. "I will send a runner to the Master Printer. I'm sure he can do without you this Earthday and Windday and perhaps for one Queens and Kings Day too," the Wizard seemed to think it was settled. Mig was finishing his third pastry although he was wearing as much of the icing sugar as eating it. Tomas had stopped at two, he thought they were okay, but he preferred the breads that Cobar rescued from the ovens. Zekial had one, he had shared a large lunch with the Wizard earlier that day. Sometimes it made him feel bad that he could not often take food out to the Guild of Boys, but they seemed to do well enough. None of the boys were starving, although the older boys might feel the hunger of growing pains. They all laughed as the pastries were finished and they could see Mig now less green and more the white of sugar frosting. The Wizard thought a moment and seemed to have another idea mulling in his head. Skipping a second shower the Wizard had Mig twirl around and while he was twirling the Wizard waved his hand and when Mig stopped the goo was gone. "That tingled!" Mig giggled. "It would be a handy spell to know. Can you teach it me?" "Mayhaps, do you have other spells?" the Wizard asked. "One or two small ones. I can make a fire and carry water. Our Wizard was deciding if I should learn more. Now my chance is lost and I wonder if the Wizard is lost with it too. The way the men killed all around when they captured, I fear there would be no one else alive to learn from him even if he still lives," Mig answered wistfully. "We shall see what happens here. If a Wizard wants you then he might be looking for you too," the Wizard said. "Now Zekial, take these two to the tower bedroom, tomorrow will be long and full of adventure. Don't dally all night!" The Wizard waved the boys back towards the stairs and he sat back and seemed to recede directly into the chair. The glowing treads led the boys up and up beyond the opening where the outer door must be and beyond several other openings that Tomas could feel as they passed. Finally the stairs stopped at a wall and there were two doors. Zekial made a hand pattern on the rightmost door and it popped open and the light moved from the steps to within the ceiling again. Tomas and Mig were astounded. This was a sleeping room? It was massively huge, there was a fireplace, a table and chairs, some of the puffy pillows like from down below and another rug. This one a Red Bear Skin that was thick and looked soft enough to float upon. And the shelf! They had never seen a sleeping shelf so wide and long, so high up in the air. As they stepped into the room it was chilly, they all three had goosebumps rising and the air seemed to tickle them as it moved across the room from the high window slits. "I will make a fire," Mig told the others. He simply turned and faced the fireplace and put out one hand and said something they could not understand and the flames leapt out of the logs and began dancing in the air. "I will close the windows," Zekial raised his hands and pointed and then brought them down. Long tapestries fell from somewhere high above and covered the window slits. Not to be out done but with no magic Tomas giggled, "I will test the bear rug!" and he ran across the room and almost dove onto the rug. It was even softer than it looked. Soon Zekial and Mig were beside him and the three were in a lazy wrestling match as much to spread the fire's warmth as anything else. Mig seemed to come up on top and looking down at both boys beneath him he scooted back to where he was on their thighs with their lances and stones arrayed before him. "Did it hurt when you had the stone removed? There are tales of people with all their stones cut off, I thought that too was a fairy story, or maybe I should say a monster story." "What stone? What are you talking about?" Tomas asked. "Your living stone! You only have two now. And those two are in the same purse, why did they take the others?" Mig reached out and gently touched each boy's soft purse. The living stones inside danced some at his touch. "No, people only have two, all people are born like this," Zekial said. "Girls too? They have living stones?" Mig was almost sick thinking of girls having stones too. "No, not girls! All boys have two. Ours are in their sack just as they were when we escaped the prison of the womb," Zekial advised. "And you have three, each in a sack. Are all Elts, boy Elts at least, like that?" "Well, I haven't seen them all, but the ones I have seen are like I am. Maybe not as long in the lance, but three stones in three pouches is what I know," Mig said. "Come, lay between us. Mayhaps we could feel yours too? It is nice to have you touching mine," Zekial said. "Yes, I want to feel yours too. And touch your lance some more," Tomas added. The three lay together on the Red Bear rug caressing each others stones and lances. The lances were all hard as wooden poles and the stones were softly swimming inside their pouches. They were feeling the slight buzzing of their yellow orechasm. "Do people sometimes taste each other's lance?" Mig asked. "Yes, I love to taste Zekial's and he tastes mine, would you like to taste?" Tomas sighed as both Mig and Zekial's hands rubbed his mind into orange. Mig did not need more of an invitation, he flipped around and soon was directing both boy's lances together and into his open mouth. "You taste delicious, like yellow wildflowers and red berries!" Mig said and then went right back to licking and tasting. Tomas shuddered from orange through red orechasm and then rolled himself away across the rug. Turning he crawled back so that he could now take Mig's lance inside his mouth. Well at least a small part of it: the top part where much of the flavor was captured within the fold of skin which drew back to show the bulbous head. Mig shivered as Tomas' tongue swirled around the sensitive places usually tucked inside the loose skin and hidden inside the sheath. The intensity of the feelings had him almost passing out it had been so long since he had been touched there. Tomas felt him shivering and began licking and lapping with vigor. Suddenly Mig felt himself unfolding like his sheath. His toes curled up, his hair spiked rigid, the points of his ears burned white hot and silver sparkles ran from his stones across and throughout his spasming body. He yowled as silver orechasm devoured his waking consciousness. Tomas expected to be flooded with nectar, yet nothing except pulsating palpitations happened inside his mouth. Inside his head it was far different as the sparkles of Mig's orechasm seemed to jump across and ignite his own silver orechasm. Zekial watched as the two each achieved a form of passionate communion with their inner selves. He smiled to see Tomas take Mig so far into sacred orechasm. He rose from the rug and lifted Mig and strode across the room and placed him on the bed. He quickly returned and took up Tomas and carried him there too. With both boys stretched out among the comforters he made a motion at the ceiling and the lights dimmed. The flickering of the fire was all that illuminated the radiant faces of his friends. Zekial crawled into the bed between them and with one arm surrounding each they all rode the flux of the post orechasmic euphoric swell.