Date: Wed, 25 Oct 2023 16:13:57 +0100
From: Devon Guy <devonguy12345@gmail.com>
Subject: The Woods Boy - chapter 3 - gay male - fantasy and sf - adult and youth

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The Woods Boy 3

"I think that it's possible that rather than hunting you." He turned to
Brook. "This creature has been guarding you."

Whatever I had expected the man to say, that was not it. I stood up
quickly, nearly knocking my chair to the floor. I don't know what I felt,
anger, confusion, fear, they were all boiling in me at what Asprey had
suggested.

"How could you say that?" I said more loudly than I should. "You weren't
there!" Asprey stood too, though with a step away from me.

"That is exactly why I can be objective." He tried to placate me. "You
see.." But he didn't finish his sentence as our attention was pulled to
Brook.

He had remained in his chair, sitting stiff and straight backed in it,
his hands gripping the table so hard his fingers were turning white. He
was breathing hard, too. Real hard like he was running scared from
something. I was beside him in a snap and reached my hand to comfort him,
and as my skin touched his I fell.

I fell through an echoing dark. Ahead or beneath I saw a pale body, fetal
on the ground. It was Brook, and as I met him I saw through his eyes. We
weren't in the wood, but a cavernous, circular stone chamber. The only
source of light was a large and ancient brazier set in the middle of the
floor, leaving the room's steep walls and high ceiling in shadow. In
front of the brazier were the outlines of two men, one tall and broad,
the other small and stooped. They appeared to be arguing, the taller man
looming over the other, their words echoing around the chamber so that I
could not make them out. I didn't need to hear the words to know that
they fought over me, over Brook, their thoughts and feelings swimming
free about the space, passing through me like angry ghosts.

The tall man raged in frustration, and I felt it like a storm wave
crashing around me, pressing me to the floor. He advanced on the other
figure, who cowered but did not yield, standing now between him and where
I, where Brook lay. The air hummed with tension, bowstring tight as the
larger shadow dwarfed the smaller, seeming to absorb it. When the strike
came it was sudden and violent, a bolt of mind splitting pain that, while
directed at the stooped figure, sent a rip of agony through me and I
cried out. The smaller figure now lay prone and unmoving on the floor.
The tall man turned at my cry. I could not see his smile but I felt his
pleasure, his rush of victory at finally having his prize before him.

The man approached, slowly, leisurely, like a cat about a cornered prey.
He had no need to rush, it was all his. His body seemed to glow with a
cold light of its own, and as he stepped nearer I saw that his chest and
arms were covered in lines of the same flowing script as Brook's tattoo,
filaments of silver sketched over every part of his bare torso and
shining with power. I tried to crawl away from him but a terrible
strength invaded my mind and fixed me in place like a hand at my throat,
choking me.

"There is nowhere left to run to, your Highness." His deep voice was
mocking as he leered down at me, his dark eyes fixed on mine, forcing me
to look. "Your allies are gone." My eyes flicked to the now prone figure,
lying still on the stone floor. Then, beyond that lifeless form, in the
darkness near a far wall I saw something move. A shadow upon shadow,
invisible but for two glimmers of red, bright eyes burning. Before I
could hide my thoughts from the man he saw it too, and turned to where
the shadow had moved, but quick though he was the shadow was quicker, and
it leapt.

The man was sent flying, skidding to halt on his back near the brazier.
The shadow was already on me and lifting me before leaping again, this
time towards an arched doorway on the far side of the chamber. I could
feel tendrils reach after me as I was carried away, snaking around my
consciousness and seeking a grip, and I shrank inside my mind, cowering
like a rat in a hole as a cold blooded predator eased inside. I almost
fell to it, feeling my will being sapped away, but then I felt for my
saviour's strength and held on tight to it as those seething vines
struggled and fell away, and then I let go as well, exhausted by the
effort of holding on, and dropped again into darkness.

When I came back to myself I was kneeling next to Brook, my hand still
gripping his. His eyes were closed and his head was rolled back in a
faint. I looked to Asprey.

"What happened?"

"I...I don't know. You took his hand and a moment later you fell from the
chair to your knees." His features were a wash of confusion and concern.
"Then you cried out. Both of you did, at the same time. It was most odd."
He regarded us for a moment. "Was that...?"

"Yes. It was the connection. Though only once before was it like that,
like I was there in his memory...." My mind was racing with what I had
seen. The chamber, the tall man and the stooped, and then the shadow that
had carried us away. Before I could stop to consider any of it, though, I
would attend to Brook. I lifted him from his seat and Asprey guided me to
a couch by the hearth in the workshop. I lay Brook on it before placing
my coat over him, then sat in a chair at his side and gently stroked his
brow. Asprey joined me and I told him what I had seen in Brook's vision.
He listened quietly, gazing into the fire.

"It would seem..." Asprey lifted a poker and idly pushed at the embers.
"To confirm my hypothesis, at least. Regarding the creature." He was
right, but the thought gave me little comfort. The power I had felt from
it that day in the woods was nothing compared to what the tall stranger
had seemed to posses, and I did not doubt that our escape was due to his
arrogance, not his weakness. I nodded grimly at Asprey's words and we
were both silent a while, letting the reassuring crackle of the fire fill
the space.

"We should both get some sleep." I finally decided. "I have a feeling
tomorrow will be a busy day." Asprey agreed and, after bringing some
spare blankets for us, he left me in my place at Brook's side and went to
his bed. As I sat there I was reminded of that first night with Brook,
that felt so long ago already, when I had waited with him, watching over
him as he slept. Now, though, my mind was full of doubt. The more I
learned of this strange boy, the more twisted his tale became, and for a
second time I questioned my choice and my vow, deeming myself incapable
of fulfilling them. With these dark thoughts to trouble me sleep came
late, but it came, and my dreams were my own that night.

I dreamt of my Pa, as he had been when I was a boy. He was sat in his
familiar place by the fire in our small kitchen, and I was on the floor
in front of him, playing with the runt he had brought for me to rear. The
dog was a little grey thing with a sleek, smooth coat, and I had named
him Pebble. "It's a sacred act, to give a name." Pa had told me. "It's
like making an oath. I learnt that when I named you." I had considered
the words strange at the time, but they were a seed that grew in me as I
grew, revealing their wisdom when the seasons came. They returned to me
in my dream, as if Pa was speaking to me still, as if he still took his
own oath as sacred.

I woke to the smell of bacon and the sound of chatter. Brook and Asprey
had both risen before me, and were busying about breakfast, and a large
iron pan was now resting over the fire, fat rashers sizzling. My stomach,
knowing its own mind very well, instantly pulled me full awake.

"Morning, sleepy." Brook said on noticing me stir. He stepped over and
planted a chaste kiss on my cheek. I was surprised to see him so bouyant
after the night, but then he was resilient. His mood and his greeting
helped to sweep some my own fears aside for the moment, and I responded
by pulling him into a real kiss, feeling that it had been too damn long
since I had held him close to me, and for a moment we forgot that we
weren't alone. Asprey cleared his throat good naturedly before things got
impolite, and I reluctantly released Brook.

After we ate, Asprey and Brook sat in the light from one of the windows
and Asprey carefully copied Brook's tattoo onto a fresh sheet of paper.
As he worked we discussed the vision I had witnessed with Brook.

"It was so strange." Brook said of the two figures. "It was like I knew
them, but didn't. I felt they were familiar, but I did not know their
faces nor could I tell you their names or anything about them. All I know
is what you saw, Jack."

"The tall one." I said. "The one who....he called you 'Highness'."

Brook was silent at that, thinking on it.

"I wish I knew what that meant." He said, finally. "Beyond the
obvious...". He smiled a little at that. "Don't worry, I won't make you
call me that." I smiled too, reaching out and taking his chin in my hand,
angling his face to the light.

"I think a crown would suit you." I told him. "Very regal nose." He
laughed.

"And what does that make you, my loyal bodyguard?"

"There are worse things to guard." I said, my hands now following the
line of his shoulder.

"Please," interrupted Asprey. "I promise we will be done shortly, and
then you can act out your play at your leisure."

I took the point and reluctantly left them be, taking the time to check
on Bess, who was in front of the house investigating the strange
graveyard of half finished machines. I found a piece of driftwood and,
with little prompting, tempted the old girl into a game of fetch. A while
later Brook emerged from the house and came to stand with me.

"Asprey says he will get to work on a translation straight away, but it
may be a few days before he has any answers." He looped his arm in mine.
Bess ran over with the stick and dropped it in front of Brook.

"Traiter." I growled, and she wagged her tail.

"What are we going to do now?" Brook asked. I put my arm around him and
thought for a moment, looking out across the lake to the horizon.

"We should head back to the inn. Get some use from the room we haven't
paid for." His arm snaked around my waist.

"What kind of use?" He asked with that sly smile of his and I knew like
me he was picturing that big old bed.

"How about we find out?" I said, then leaned in to kiss him, and felt the
life in him invigorate me, shoving my worries aside. A gull cawed in the
distance and the lake lapped at the stoney beach.

After saying our farewells to Asprey, promising to visit again in a few
days' time, Brook and I walked the five or so miles back to the village.
The day was clear and fresh with a cool breeze coming in over the lake,
and Brook and I walked slowly, talking more about what we had seen the
night before.

"Why do you think it left me, the creature?" Brook asked. This had been
on my mind too.

"Could be it was laying a false trail." I mused, recalling how Pa would
lay false scent trails when training a hound. "If whoever is after you is
following that thing, it's a smart move to hide you and then lead them
away." Brook thought about this.

"Do you think it left me with you on purpose?" I remembered how the
creature had looked into me, had examined me. At the time it had seemed
like an attack, but what if it wasn't?

"I don't know, Brook. It could be I was just the nearest soul around."
Brook took my hand and I looked at him.

"I don't think so." His eyes were earnest. "I think you were meant to
find me, Jack."

I had never thought much about fate or destiny or any of those things
folk sometimes called the gods, but looking into Brook's eyes, so serious
now, I couldn't help but feel that we were more than just an accident.

"That's how it feels to me too."

We arrived at the inn that afternoon to find it more crowded than the day
before. Glancing around I saw faces I did not recognise, more travellers
from the north, or so I guessed from their finely patterned cloaks and
dark hair. George was in his usual spot, looking genial but for an edge
of nerves only someone who knew him would notice. Brook and I came and
sat at the bar and asked for two jars, and passed some time talking with
the old innkeep.

"Did you find the old crack-pot?" He asked, meaning Asprey.

"We did. Our apologies for skipping your hospitality last night, but it
became too late to return." George smiled and shook his head.

"Not to worry. Room's yours as long as you want it. Truth is, it's a
comfort having you here." He glanced around the room at the strangers.
"You'll have heard of the troubles." I nodded grimly.

"We have. Seen some of it too." I told him of how things had been at the
outpost, of the pitiable souls passing through there, hoping for refuge
in the King's Lands, and I told him of Knock Wood and the derelict
farmsteads we had passed. Wanting to change to subject to less grim
matters I asked George if Vera had fixed anything for dinner.

"The lake provides." It wasn't almost a motto for the village. "The boys
brought in some fresh bass earlier, so Vera is baking it with some roots,
even gathered some greens if you fancy."

Fancy we did, and dived on our plates when, a long hour later, Vera
brought them smiling from her kitchen.

"Here you go, boys." She said, and we both told her our deepest thanks
and meant it. A second trip and she returned with a bowl of leftovers for
Bess, who was equally grateful.

Ten minutes later we were burping over empty plates, a fresh jar in front
of us. The bar had become crowded now, with the local folk coming in
after the day's work, so Brook and I said our respects to George and took
our cups to our room. When I closed the door behind us it was like I was
closing the door on our worries. Suddenly all that mattered was each
other and being there together.

Brook placed his cup on the table and with a sigh of satisfaction he fell
onto the bed, his body sinking into the soft mattress. I kicked off my
boots and joined him, my weight causing him to roll towards me. We lay
face to face in the honey coloured light of the of the early evening, his
breath sweet in my nose, his lips a tempting inch away. I brushed them
gently with my own, dropping kisses soft as summer rain onto his skin. I
could hear the dull murmer of voices from the bar below, but they seemed
to come from another world, one we shut behind the door.

I peeled away his clothes, slowly unwrapping him, kissing his belly, his
chest, his arms as each was bared. Brook had closed his eyes and his head
was tilted back and he shivered as he always did under my touch.

"Yes, yes..." He groaned as my lips moved above his waistband, kissing
across his taut muscles, teasing lower with each pass. I could feel his
hardness through his half open fly, inches from mouth. I pulled his pants
fully away and continued my journey, kissing his sides, his hips, his
inner thighs as his breath got deep and his gasps came more often. I
could feel his arousal grow as my beard raked his flesh, making him
wriggle like a fresh caught fish, twisting here and there as if to escape
me but both knowing better. When my tongue lapped at his tight balls I
thought he might be done there and then the way he cried out, and when
his hands reached for his dick I pulled away and took his wrists, giving
him a look.

"I can't trust you to touch yourself just yet." Frustration ran across
his face but was chased off by his need, and he nodded. I let go of his
wrists and he put his hands at his sides, grabbing at the blankets as I
went at him again, taking him right to that edge and looking over it with
him, feeling the dizzying thrill of being on the brink of falling. I
danced with him on that ledge, my hands and mouth on his body, knowing
every move and touch to make as if by instinct, and the more we danced
the closer we got.

"Please..." Brook whispered, and the look of lust and longing he gave me
made my heart thump. I knew I held him then, as surely and as lightly as
I had first held him. He lay in my palm like a pebble, in my pocket like
a pup, and I cherished him. I grabbed his cock as I looked into his eyes,
my hand wrapping him in my warmth and strength, and as gentle as the lake
breeze I stroked him. His dark eyes rolled white and his head fell back,
mouth agape, and his hips began to follow my pace as I slowly led him
back to that edge.

"I'm gonna make you come now, Brook." I told him. He was so close all it
would take was a breath, his hands were holding tight to the blanket,
heels digging at the bed as if he was slipping, and when I put my lips on
the head of his dick he leapt and I caught him. His senses were still
dazzled by the force of it so that he was surprised when I kissed his
lips, sharing his bliss.

"You taste good, don't you?" I said between kisses and he replied by
sending his tongue seeking for more. We lay like that a long time,
exploring this magical intimacy we were fated with, no longer questioning
its reason, only living the fact of it. It felt like our fortress, a
place that only we two could go, and I longed to spend forever there with
him.

I don't know when we fell asleep. It was becoming harder to tell dreams
and memories from what was real when I was close to him. My eyes blinked
open to the creased and kindly face of a stooped, old man, his boney
fingers gently shaking me awake.

"It's time, your highness. He is here." His voice was old paper. Dread
filled me, but duty filled me too. This was something that must be done.
I rose. The old man beckoned me on and I followed, through a dark passage
to another chamber, much larger than the first. In the center was a
large, stone brazier, and just inside the arched doorway stood the dark
sentinel with its ember eyes. The chamber hummed with power, with
expectation, as if it too had a mind and a motive, and seemed to watch me
approach the fire as the old man led me on.

"Now kneel, highness." And I did. His fingers clasped my temples and I
felt him step into my thoughts. "Quickly now, just a little further." I
followed him deeper into my mind, and we raced past fragments of memory,
too fast make out. Down we went until we came to room that felt familiar,
I knew the pattern of the rug and the scenes in the wall hangings as I
knew my own hands, and I felt safe there.

"Stay here and wait for me." The old man told me, worry showing through
his consoling look. He took my hand in his, his skin was like the softest
leather. "Trust me, highness."

He turned away, as if hearing something far off, and he seemed to shrink
for a moment.

"I must go now." He told me, turning back to me once with sad eyes as he
closed the door. I sat in silence. Then I heard a noise. A knock on the
door.

My eyes blinked open to the dark of the room above the bar. I heard a
noise. A knock on the door. Shaking my head I sat up, and another knock
confirmed that I had not dreamt the other. I chambered out of bed and saw
that Brook was still asleep. A third knock.

"I'm coming, I'm coming." I whispered, but loud. I found the handle and
opened the door a crack, revealing George, his face dark with concern.

"Let me in, Jack. There's trouble." My heckles rose. George was not the
sort to quail easily, so I quickly opened the door and beckoned him in.
He had brought a lamp which saved me lighting one and set it on the
table.

"What is it, George?" I asked him. I saw that Brook had woke and was sat
up looking on, confusion and shock on his face.

"Men are here. Armed men. Strangers." George looked over at Brook as he
said this last. "They been asking after someone. A lad, your age and
looks from what they tell."

Fear stabbed at me and my senses took on a keenness. I grabbed George by
the shoulder. "How many?"

"Three." George said. "Two look like common bandits, hired swords I'll
wager. The third is some kind of priest out of the north, he seems to
lead them." He shook. "There's something uncanny about him, I don't mind
saying."

"Do they know we are here?" My mind was racing now.

"Not from me, and none of the locals will talk to them, but they must
know something else they wouldn't be asking." He replied, and I knew he
must be right. Part of me wanted to storm downstairs with my fists
flying, but I knew the odds would be against me, and I didn't like the
sound of this priest.

"George. Go back and do what you can to keep them in the bar." The
innkeep nodded.

"There's more." He said. "They also asked about the hermit. Seems whoever
tipped them off might have heard you talking about going to see him." My
heart dropped and I brimmed with anger at myself for having put the man
in danger. Luckily few enough even of those who live in the village knew
where the hermit's house was, not precisely anyway. He got few enough
visitors.

"Then that is where we will have to go. Brook," I turned to him. "Ready
yourself to leave. If we slip out now we can be at Asprey's well ahead of
anyone who might try to follow." He immediately began reaching for his
clothes and pulled them on.

"And after that?" Brook asked. He sounded scared as I felt. I couldn't
show him that, though.

"One thing at a time. We have to get away and make sure Asprey is safe.
We can plan from there." Decided, I began gathering our gear together.
Luckily we hadn't even opened our packs since arriving the day before, so
within minutes we were ready.

"Leave through the kitchen." George told me. "I'll keep them busy for as
long as I can. I'm sure those swords won't say no to a jar on the house."
His old eyes twinkled with mischief, and I felt a little of the guilt I
felt at bringing trouble here lift.

"Do what you can." I implored him, and Brook and I quietly followed him
from the room and down the stairs. We parted at the door to the kitchen.

"Good luck, Jack." George said. "And don't tell him, but make sure that
old crack-pot is safe. Wouldn't be the same without him."

"I will, George, if I can." We shook hands as old friends who know they
might not meet again, and George left for the bar room. Brook and I
pushed the door into the kitchen. Vera was there, and had tied a blanket
parcel of supplies for us.

"All I could do on short notice." She said as she handed it to me. "Some
bread dried meat, and a bone for Bess." She gestured affectionately to
the dog, who seemed to be the only one enjoying herself.

"You have our thanks, Vera. Truly." I told her and she gave me a fretful
smile.

With that I unsheathed my knife and headed to the door to the yard behind
the inn, followed by Brook and Bess. It took us a moment for our eyes to
adjust to the gloom. It was a starless night, a thick bank of cloud
having rolled in with the evening. That suited me fine. I knew this area
well enough to find my way in the dark, and counted on whoever had come
to the inn looking for Brook not being so well acquainted. Silent as
foxes we made our way around the building. I decided we would make for
the hermit across country, avoiding the path that led most of the way
there. It would add an hour to the journey, but I still hoped to get
there before dawn. That way we would have the cover of darkness the whole
distance.

After checking the coast was clear, the three of us dashed across the
yard and towards a line of trees on the brow of hill that overlooked the
inn. Once under the eaves I allowed myself a moment to stop and glance
back, and was relieved to see no pursuit, nor any commotion at the inn.
Hoping our luck would hold, we pressed on into the woods.

We hiked all the rest of the night through knotted woods and rolling
hills, keeping to cover as much as we could. We talked little, but I
could not help but ask Brook about the dream we had been sharing before
we had been roused.

"Pieces are coming back to me." He said. "It's as if these memories are
shut inside of me somewhere, and are beginning to leak out." He took my
hand. "I'm not sure I could face them without you, Jack." I squeezed his
hand back.

"Whatever it takes, Brook. We are in this together."

Fear stalked us that night, but there was no other sign of pursuit, and
as the sky was greying we felt the slip of rounded stones under our boots
as we stepped onto the beach and approached the house. The window was
dully lit, so I went to that first. Squinting through the glass I saw
Asprey lying motionless his work bench, a scattering of papers under is
head. I nodded to Brook who pulled the handle for the bell, and I was
relieved to see Asprey stir at the sound. I knocked on the window,
prompting him to look and his sleepiness turned to alert recognition.
Hurrying to the door he let us in, concern on his face.

"My boys, I didn't expect you back quite so soon. Is anything the
matter?" I waited until the door was closed before answering.

"There's trouble."