Date: Fri, 11 Feb 2011 14:34:35 -0500
From: M Patroclus <thephallocrat@gmail.com>
Subject: "The Exile" - Chapter 16

THE EXILE
A Gay Fantasy Experiment

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER 16

I remember clearly a particular summer day some months before my exile,
when the air was thick with heat and the sun seemed to beat down cruelly
even through the protective canopy of our forest. I had been a Priest for
almost four years, but still I trembled as I rose to speak before my
people. It was always thus - so great was the pressure of the office, so
high the expectations placed upon me, that I could never act in an official
capacity without hesitation or fear. It was only a small mid-week service
with a handful of attendees, all of whom revered me as the future leader of
our tribe, and yet I felt naked before them. I had gone over the words of
sermon countless times in the previous days, had committed every word to
memory again and again, and yet for the smallest fraction of a moment, I
could not recall how to begin. It was then I spotted Jacek amongst the
congregation, his face a mask of expectation. Beside him sat his sister,
Shara, radiant in the summer light and looking at me with silent
admiration. I resolved not to falter in front of them, not to shame myself
before my bride to be, or, most of all, before my friend. His opinion
mattered to me above all others, save only perhaps that of my father.

"Faithfulness," I spoke aloud, "Commitment to duty. Obedience." The temple
was at my back, looming over me. I could feel its presence, its weight
lending gravity to my words. "When our fathers were given the laws of
Alander and tasked to wait for the day of the Sha-Eluid, they were told
that this task could not be handled lightly. They swore an oath, and oath
that still lives on in our blood. A hundred generations might pass away
before the Son of Power appears, Alander warned. In all that time, our
people could not waver. They could tolerate no deviation or allow
themselves to become complacent to the tiniest degree. When the time comes,
those who wait must be ready."

"Those who wait must be ready," the scattered members of my audience
murmured in reply.

"Each of us has a duty: fathers, mothers, sons and daughters. Priests and
warriors. Farmers, hunters, and craftsmen. Commitment to the task each of
us has been given is a commitment to the greater duty that our fathers took
on long ago. To accept one's duty is the highest honor." I took a deep
breath, and felt a lump in my throat. "To reject it is the highest
dishonor. Such a one is not worthy to be called one of us, and must be cast
out into the lone and dreary world – lost to us forever." My stomach
clenched. I supposed at the time that it was only due to nerves, but
perhaps there was some presentiment of my future, some as yet unrealized
dread just beginning to form.

"Obedience is our calling," I continued. I could see Jacek nodding to
himself at my words. "Obedience is our heritage. The submission of
ourselves to something greater is the highest expression of love." I meant
every word. The people were inspired. They revered me as a paragon of
faithfulness.

At the time of which I now write, when my companions and I were blazing
southwards towards my ancestral home, this memory oppressed me
bitterly. When news of my exile was whispered in shocked tones amongst my
people, did those who heard me speak that day remember my words? Did they
call me hypocrite, traitor? And could I blame them? And what would they
think of me when I now returned, in defiance of the holiest of injunctions?
I would become worse than an exile. I would be a traitor. An enemy.

Make no mistake. I would have preferred to face a hundred Archbishops and a
thousand Queen Valessas rather than the task that now lay before me. When I
had set forth on my exile into the lone and dreary world, I had known
nothing about the life that lay ahead of me. Nothing, that is, except for
one sure and certain fact – a fact so obvious I had not imagined that it
could be otherwise: I could never go back.  The laws of my people and the
will of the Elders were not to be broken. As a child, I had followed every
rule, lived every principle, obeyed every command. My refusal to accept the
will of my people in the marriage ceremony was a surprise to myself as much
as to everyone else. By failing to accept my betrothed and to mate with
her, I had refused to continue the lineage of the tribe and, most gravely,
the bloodline of the High Priesthood. The Elders had spoken, the ritual of
excommunication had been performed, my hair had been removed and sword had
been taken. One simply could not return after enduring such shame. It had
never been done. It was a blasphemy as grave as any I could imagine, as
sacrilegious as defiling the very temple itself.

But now my hair had returned in a stubble of black on my scalp, growing
longer each day. Now I possessed a new sword, greater than that which had
been taken away. I had changed. I had accepted the title of Heir of
Alander, and I was no longer quite the same man who had been
exiled. Destiny was calling me home. Though my shame remained, burning deep
within, my duty was to those who called me leader and to all the suffering
people I had seen in my travels who cried out for deliverance. The
submission of the self to something greater, I reminded myself often, is
the highest expression of love. It helped soothe my anxiety, but only in
part. I knew my return would cause only pain and division. But it could not
be helped – I had resolved to become the man who faces his destiny and
not the man who runs from it.

I was to be a blasphemer, then. So be it, I thought. The faith of my
fathers may be lost to me, but I have glimpsed something greater.

My council of advisors, such as they were, had splintered at my
request. Gavril, the bulk of his Tharonites, and a delegation of Veruvians
had returned to Carmathen. Burgess and a handful of his Broxbournean
soldiers had accompanied him, with the intention of eventually heading
north towards their home. Cedrik had broken off from our main camp later
on, making for Fermanagh. By breaking into groups, we made it more
difficult for the Archbishop to find us, but more importantly I had charged
each man to try to build support for our cause in each of their
homelands. When my business in the southern forests among my people was
complete, we would march north towards Broxbourne, picking up new allies in
each of the cities along the way. That is, if my journey home proved
successful. If it did not, their preparations would likely prove fruitless.

This left a relatively small honor guard to accompany me on my difficult
journey home: a few Tharonites, hand-picked by Gavril himself, a small
circle of smirking Veruvian men, and a few of the most fanatic
Broxbourneans. Brave men all, but not enough to protect me from real danger
should the situation become violent in my homeland. I hoped it would not
come to that, was certain conflict could be avoided - but if the worst
should come, I knew each man would die for me. I felt the weight of their
lives on my shoulders. At least we had the giants. Golmeir and his kin were
silent and distant, and they nearly outnumbered us smaller folk, but their
presence was more comforting than disconcerting. Their strength and size
would prove invaluable if it came to blood.

I could not bear the thought of war against my own people. And yet I saw it
in mind again and again, images of chaos that I could not push away. Such a
war would drive me to madness, perhaps, for it would be a war against my
very self.

Last among my retinue, closest to my heart, were my loyal friends and
companions. Alek was never far away, though his heart was now
another's. Jelena would stand by his side, unafraid to meet my gaze with
eyes that suggested... remorse, guilt? Pity, perhaps, is more
likely. Stepan with all his books and scrolls always had a word or two of
wisdom to offer, but his son Pasha looked at me with embarrassing longing
and said nothing. And of course there was always Golmeir, who had become my
second shadow. Damon, on the other hand, was seldom seen, though I often
felt him near. For one thing, I was rarely alone, and his secrecy was his
weapon and his shield. I had sworn silently to myself not to feed him if at
all possible, for I feared his growing power and rebellious attitude. Each
feeding seemed to draw more and more energy from me. Sometimes it would be
days before I would feel myself restored back to my full strength. The cost
of his aid was becoming much too dear, the power he offered too easy to
misuse. I tried to stay strong.

Only once during our journey south had I given into temptation and
pleasured myself, welcoming the release amongst the stress of the task
ahead of me. But then Damon had appeared, lapping up my seed off the ground
without shame, staring right at me the whole time with his dark and
impenetrable eyes. I had been so filled with disgust and fear at the sight
of him that I had not touched myself again for the rest of the journey.

It seemed our journey would never end, and yet of course it did. Despite my
dread at what was ahead, I could not but feel a thrill of excitement when
we sighted the mighty trees of the forest I had always known as my home. As
we journeyed, I felt a strange peace at the knowledge that the tombs of
Anatheria lay hidden beneath us, and that the sword at my side made
Anatheria my domain. I felt less like an intruder, then.

After a day's journey into the forest, I dispatched messengers to run
ahead, knowing that they would be intercepted by our guardians long before
they reached the village proper. I had instructed them very carefully in
what they were to say, and how. The proper forms of respect, the invitation
to parley, the signs and symbols of peace. That would get their attention,
I knew. My father would not come himself, of course, but whoever he sent
would be someone I knew, one of the commanders or even a priest. Hopefully
it would be someone who could be reasoned with, someone who would consent
to bring a message directly to my father. But only heaven could help me if
it turned out to be one of the Elders who had sentenced me. My stomach
clenched at the thought.

And yet when word came to me that a small band of my people had arrived at
our encampment, I felt strangely calm. I had brooded over and feared this
moment for so long that now it was a relief to face it at last and have it
done with. Whatever happened, at least the dreaded moment would soon be
passed. My men had done their best to set up the tent in which I was to
receive my former brethren as a kind of make-shift audience chamber, with a
rough, hand-made chair hewn from the forest itself as my meager throne. As
I had commanded, I was nearly alone. My guards remained outside the tent,
leaving only Golmeir and Alek standing quietly to the side. My face was
hidden behind a deep cowl, and after a silent nod to Alek that I was
prepared, the representatives of my people were led into my presence. I
nearly laughed when I saw who they had sent. I should have guessed – the
Omnipotent is not without a sense of ironic humor.

So much had happened since my exile that I felt as though many years had
passed since I last had seen anyone from my village. I expected, in the
back of my mind, that they would appear shockingly old and alien to
me. What surprised me when I saw my oldest friend Jacek and even more so
when I recognized his sister Shara, my one-time bride, at his side, was how
little they seemed to have changed. He was still radiant, so like to Damon
that it made me squirm with memories of sensual embraces, while Shara was
still the proudest, devastatingly beautiful woman I had ever met. They
seemed not to have aged at all. I realized suddenly that it had only been a
few months that I had been away; hardly any time at all. In their minds, I
thought, my exile had been only moments ago. To me it had been an eternity.

"We have come," Jacek said warily, his eyes narrowing as he peered through
the darkness of the cowl, trying to see my face. "Speak."

But I found I could not. My voice choked with emotion to see the faces of
those I loved and had thought never to see again. Jacek's whole body
tightened at my silence.

"What do you want?" Jacek spoke again. "Why do you bring your people here?
There is nothing here of interest to outsiders. We have little tolerance
for such as you."

It was as though I had risen to speak a sermon before my people once
again. I could not remember the words, could not recall how to begin. My
tongue, the one men called holy, the new one Damon had given me, was dry
and would not obey my commands.

Jacek's face had darkened further. "We will not be mocked," he growled
softly. "If you will not speak to us, we will depart."

I saw Alek shuffling uncomfortably in the corner of my eye; a subtle
motion, but enough to remind me of his presence. It stirred me to life and
brought back my voice, as once the sight of Jacek had done when I spoke my
sermon before our temple.

"Only two have come," I said at last. "To whom do I speak? Who are you that
your people should send you to me?" I knew perfectly well who they were. My
deception burned in my throat, but I knew what must be done. They must not
suspect – not yet. Before I spoke, I had been worried they would know me
by my voice, but they gave no sign of recognition.

"Two are all that is needed. I am Jacek, Priest of the Taluid," my oldest
friend said, as suspicious as before. "I speak here for Stefanos, our chief
and High Priest. This is Shara, a commander of our warriors."

I flinched in surprise, grateful that my cowl hid my reaction from
them. Shara, a commander? It was not so strange for a woman to join our
order of warriors, but Shara had been raised to be my bride and a mother to
my children. Widows joined the warriors, those who had sworn never to marry
again. I had hoped she would find another match, a man who could make her
happy as I could never have done.

"The Taluid," I said, pronouncing the word expertly, "'Those who wait'. But
for what do your people wait, priest?"

Jacek looked taken aback, but to his credit kept his cool. Shara's breath
quickened, and I began to suspect she had detected something familiar in my
voice that her brother had not. They said nothing. I could not stop now.

"Now it is you who will not speak," I said, "because I am an outsider, and
these matters are no concern of mine. So I will answer for you. You await
the Sha'Eluid, the son of power, who will bring the time of change and lead
you from isolation. You wait and you wait and you wait. You wait while the
world crumbles to chaos outside your forest. You wait until all you know is
waiting and in your heart you would prefer to keep waiting rather than for
the Sha'Eluid to finally come. And all along you look for the son of power
in every place except the one in which he might actually be found."

"What is this?" Jacek demanded, fists clenched. "Who are you?"

I rose from my seat, but kept my cowl over my face. Not yet, not yet. "My
followers call me the Heir of Alander, and see salvation when they look at
me. But what other men see does not matter – only what I myself see when
I look into a glass. There I see myself and my followers both. Do you
understand?"

Jacek did not deign to answer my question. "You are deluded, stranger. You
are not the heir of Alander, whatever your people tell you. Alander belongs
to us, and his only heir lies sick abed in our village, dying. When he
passes to the next world, Alander will have no more heirs, only madmen such
as you who claim his name without right."

My father is dying? Almost these words were on my lips, but I stilled
them. "Your High Priest is dying?" I asked instead, "Had he no sons, no
heirs?"

"None," Jacek responded levelly, without a trace of emotion.

"The Creator hears all lies," I reminded him gently.

"It was the truth I spoke," he said, disgust creeping into his voice. "I
know you now, stranger. It is no surprise that you should cover your face
in shame, only a surprise that you have not yet ended your own life rather
than look us in the face again."

Shara's suspicions were confirmed then, and she gasped so loud it startled
even herself, the mask of the warrior commander completely lost. She
covered her mouth with her hands. She looked as though she might speak, but
Jacek clutched her arm protectively.

"Come, sister." There was a note of warning in his voice. "There is nothing
for us here. We have been the object of a cruel joke." He turned to leave.

"For the memories you have of the man you once loved as your brother, hear
me but a few moments more," I pleaded.

Jacek whirled to face me. "For the memories of the man I once loved as my
brother, I ought to kill you where you stand!" Golmeir and Alek would have
intervened at this threat, but I stopped them with a gesture. Jacek
continued, "That man is dead. You are nothing. You do not exist. Your sole
remaining honor was to uphold the will of the Elders and never to return to
us, and even this is now lost to you. You are not a man. Your sword of
manhood was broken. Your cowl covers nothing but your bare head, the symbol
of your everlasting shame."

The time had come. I pulled back my hood and let the light reveal my face
and my full head of hair – still short, but clearly present and growing
proudly. Even my eyebrows had returned. "The heavens have seen fit to grant
me a second chance, it would seem," I said. That silenced Jacek quick
enough. "Believe me, old friend," I continued, "I never thought to return
here and desired nothing less. There was nothing that could constrain me to
defy my sentence save destiny itself – my own, that of our people."

"What nonsense is this?"

"The time foretold has come," I said. How many times on my journey south
had I repeated these words to myself, so that I might be ready for this
moment? Hundreds, thousands. And yet still I felt sure my voice my break,
or stumble over the words like a timid man. "We must become the instrument
of change that Alander in his wisdom prepared us to be. Long have we
waited, until the waiting has become all we know. But we need wait no
longer. The time to act is now, for now is all there is."

"You speak as though you were one of us," Jacek returned coldly, "You would
do well to remember you are not. This is not the promised time, and you are
a fool without honor no matter how many hairs now grow on your head. Why
should you know the time had come, when our the Elders or our High Priest
do not?"

"They never left," I said simply. "They have not seen what I have."

"The time of change will not come until the Sha'Eluid appears, as well you
know if you have not forgotten all the teachings of your youth." Jacek
cocked his head and smiled without mirth. "Unless you claim to be the
destined one? You were anointed as such as a child, as we all know – but
you have proved a disappointment like all before you. Perhaps the greatest
disappointment of them all."

"I never sought to dishonor our people or our traditions—" I began, but
Jacek interrupted me.

"You dare to stand before my sister and say this?" he snarled. He did not
look at her, but his grip tightened protectively on her arm. Shara had
stood mutely through the whole exchange, staring at me in disbelief with
misty eyes, not uttering a word. At her brother's words she dropped her
gaze to the ground uncomfortably. Jacek stared daggers at me. "You are not
the one," he spat.

"Yes," I said. I took a deep breath, "And no. I have come to show you the
true Sha'Eluid. The son of power is already among you, closer than you
think. I will show you the place where we never thought to look."

"You speak in riddles and blasphemies, stranger," Jacek said, emphasizing
the last word, "We're leaving, Shara. There is nobody here we know."

And they were gone before I could speak another word.

"Shall we stop them?" Alek asked suddenly. I had forgotten he was there.

"You could try, and might even succeed. But not before we lost many of our
men," I replied.

Golmeir frowned skeptically, "There are only two of them. And one of them a
woman."

"That woman is more than a match for any man among us," I said. I
remembered watching her train to fight so many years before. Amongst my
people, all were trained for combat: men, women, and children alike. No
other woman of our generation was Shara's equal in fierceness or beauty
– small wonder, then, that she was deemed a perfect match for the future
leader of our people. "The giants could take them, perhaps, but I would not
have either of them harmed, the woman least of all."

"You knew her well, didn't you?" Alek asked. I could tell Shara had charmed
him. A capable, attractive woman always made him weak. I felt a small pang
of jealousy, but it was lost amongst the sea of feelings that Jelena had
already prompted in me.

"Intimately," I said sadly, "She was to have been my wife." Alek, who had
heard the story of my exile a hundred times, winced. He was beginning to
see just how much this homecoming was costing me. "My father is not well,"
I said, "I must go to him. He must hear what I have to say... before it is
too late."

Golmeir scratched his gigantic chin. "Tricky. They will not admit you, yes?
And you said sneaking past their defenses would be difficult."

"Impossible," I said, "It cannot be done. And yet I must try. Somehow." I
knew the solution, then, and I did not like it. "Leave me for now, my
friends. I must think."

Golmeir nodded and took up his post outside of my tent. Alek lingered,
however, looking like he would speak to me, concern clearly etched upon his
face.

"Don't let them get to you, Markis," he said at last. "You know how much we
all admire you, whatever they may think."

I smiled. "Thank you. That means more than you know."

"They'll see sense eventually," he said, taking his leave, "They have to."

Once Alek was gone my smile faded. My stomach twisted into a knot, but I
knew what must be done. Everything depended on gaining the cooperation of
my people, on gaining access to the village. They must be shown how to look
past their traditions, and the only person revered enough to get through to
them lay sick and dying beyond my reach. My father... to see him once more,
before it was too late... to do this, I would give anything, whatever the
cost. I would bargain away whatever I had to give.

My thoughts seemed to summon him, for he appeared without me saying a word,
naked and radiant. He grinned wickedly at me, knowing that I needed him,
knowing that I would now give him what he wanted.

"Damon," I said, or tried to at least. My voice was choked with fear. He
approached me and pulled me towards him, and with that I submitted to his
power.


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