Date: Thu, 17 Apr 2003 21:31:40 -0700 (PDT)
From: Corrinne S <quasito_cat@yahoo.com>
Subject: Dark Wishes 1: Part One, Chapters 1-3

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.  The
first part includes some characters approximately sixteen years of age who
would, I have been assured, be of the legal age of consent in some places.

Dark Wishes

M.C. Gordon

Part One: Xoachin

Chapter One

     Any joy the servants may have known from the bright, late spring day
was gone.  The pleasant sounds of birds and crickets were overwhelmed by
muffled cries behind the heavy oak doors to the Duke's apartment in the
castle.  One by one the maids made the sign against evil and covered their
ears.

     "Where were you!?" Lord Bellard screamed again as he brought the
slender willow branch down against his son's back.

     "I was in the garden, Father," the boy said.  "I told you.  I was
there with my friends."

     "Do not lie to me, Xoachin!" the older man roared.  "Admit that you
were whoring with one of the servants!"

     "Father," the boy gasped out, the pain from the beating bringing tears
to his eyes, "I swear to you by the name of the High King.  I have not been
with any of the serving women."

     Exhausted, both by his anger and the beating he had been administering
to his only son, Bellard cast the stick of willow across the room and
grabbed Xoachin by the hair.  "I will find out.  And when I do, she will
die.  I will not have you casting bastards who will try to claim title to
this land."

Throwing Xoachin against a wall, Bellard turned and stormed from the room.

     When Bellard's echoing footsteps told that he had descended the stairs
to the first floor of the castle, the captain of the household guard,
Huton, slipped quietly into the room.

     "Do you wish me to call a healer?" he asked the boy as he helped him
from the floor to a chair.

     "No," Xoachin replied.  "My father would learn of it and punish both
the healer and yourself."

     "Young lord," Huton said, "word could be sent to the High King at
Aolane.  A beast in battle he may be, but he looks unkindly on ill
treatment of any of his subjects.  I have met him many times and know that
he would not countenance the way your father beats you."

     Xoachin's breath caught in his throat.  Of all the people in the ten
kingdoms ruled by the Qell Lords, the High King was the one who should most
assuredly never know.  Kind and gentle by nature, loving and tender in
stolen embraces, Miralen was fierce when angered.

     "No, Captain Huton," Xoachin replied.  "This is a matter between my
lord father and myself.  I have survived his ill use of me for many years.
Leave me now and summon my servants.  They will tend to me as they have in
the past."
     Huton watched the slender lad as he made his way slowly to his own
sleeping area.  He had to grant that the boy had courage.  Ugly red welts
were rising on the golden-hued back, still he stood straight and tall.
There were no tears now in the violet eyes set below soft, silvery brows.

     Xoachin moved his chair aside from the table he had been using,
replacing it with a stool.  He sat, took up his quill, dipped it in the
inkwell, and went back to the study assigned him by his tutor.

     The captain waited while Xoachin's personal servants tended to the
lad's raw and bleeding back.  He marveled at the courage shown by a boy
barely past his sixteenth year, for the lad never cried out in pain as his
back was cleansed and bound with soft linen wraps.  He had been asked not
to tell the High King, but Xoachin had said nothing about the King's
brother lords.


     Huton made a decision and quickly descended the massive castle
stairway.  His objective was the stables and he crossed the distance in
record time.  He caught the attention of Perilan, a junior member of the
household guard, and nodded his head to one side to summon him.

     "Quickly!" he said as the two entered the stables, "saddle the fastest
beast here and take a message to Aolane for me."

     "A message, Captain?" the young man asked.

     "Yes," Huton replied.  "You must speak directly to King Ilafrain and
no one else.  Do you understand?  Not to his servants, nor any of the
household guard, most especially not to King Miralen.  Only Ilafrain's ears
must hear hear what I send you to say."  While they talked, the captain
sent a servant boy to the castle kitchen with orders for field rations.

     "Yes, Captain," Perilan replied.  "I understand.  What is the
message?"

     "Tell him that the future duke of Lippize might not live long enough
to assume that rank.  Let him know that the willow trees are tired of
tasting innocent blood.  He knows Lord Bellard; he will understand."

     Perilan quickly saddled and mounted a three-year old stallion, the
swiftest in the stable.  The horse pulled against his bit at the tension
that filled the air.


     "The journey will take several days.  What if our lord should wonder
at my absence?"


     "When you have left I will go to your wife.  I believe her mother is
ill and the two of you are needed to care for the good woman for a time.
Your wife will leave before sundown.  Hurry boy!" he shouted to the lad
running across the open courtyard.  The servant was laden with rations and
a blanket.

   "Yes, Cap'n," the lad managed between heavy breaths as he reached the
two men.  "Cook says she's sorry there is not more food.  And she says to
tell you that food will not be enough so she sent the blanket.  And, she
says to say that she hopes Perilan returns quickly with King Ilafrain."

   The supplies were quickly lashed into place and Perilan dug his heels
into his mount.  As they disappeared beyond the town walls Michalen turned
to Huton and asked, "do you really think the King will come?"

     "Indeed I do," the aging shoulder replied, one hand resting on the

child's shoulder.

Chapter Two:

     Since before the time when man had recollection of himself, three Qell
Lords had ruled ten kingdoms of mortal men.  They were tall and fair, their
skin as white as alabaster.  Intense silver eyes beheld their kingdoms and
raven black hair cascaded over their shoulders, reaching their waists.

They were the only three of their kind in the world.  King, they were
called by their subjects.

     They took no wives and begat no heirs for they chose the companionship
and love of men.  Few looked askance at their choice for the lords ruled
wisely and well, caring deeply for their subjects.

     They were mighty lords of magic.  Not wizards or conjurers who sought
to use magic, but pure magic itself.  It flowed from them as water does
from a spring.  They controlled it as best they could for men, while
accepting their uniqueness, had little understanding of it.


     The inhabitants of the province of Lippize were the oldest known race
of mortal men.  Favorites of the Qell Lords, it was said that they had been
raised by magic.  They were a race of stunning beauty and had married
between their small hamlets and villages for generations to keep their
bloodlines pure.  They were the color of gold in the distant mountains that
shone in the late afternoon sun.  Their hair was thick and luxurious, worn
long and falling across their shoulders in bright silver glory.
 Their cheekbones, set high in round faces, were but stepping stones to the
magnificent violet of their oval eyes.  They were a proud race of men --
loyal to their families, their kings, and the hidden spirits who shared
their world.

     Such as these was Xoachin -- son of Bellard, the son of Caldoan, who
was the son of Jusef.  Their line stretched back in time to when the first
of their kind had stood before Miralen and heard, "You and your people are
mine for I find you worthy.  I will protect all that is yours or ever shall
be until we are no more".


     That distant ancestor, whose name had long since been forgotten, knelt
before the young Qell Lord and proclaimed, "King, I and my people will
serve you always.  This will be our covenant with you -- all our lives are
forfeit should this vow be broken."

     The years passed and the people prospered under the protection of
Miralen, whom they called High King to distinguish him from his brother
lords Ilafrain and Resnaron.  They sent their sons and daughters to the
Qell capitol of Aolane in the kingdom of Elanen to study with Ilafrain.
When Miralen called for their young men to aid him in protecting the
kingdoms, they responded willingly.  In gratitude for their loyalty,
Miralen traveled to the edge of the world and returned with four great
horses, two male and two female, which he presented as a gift.  Resnaron
taught the people to care for them and, in time, their numbers increased
until the gentle creatures dotted the landscape as they fed upon the sweet
grasses of Lippize.

     There came a day when one of the Lippiz dukes, Caldoan, decided to
seek a wife outside the province.  "I grow tired of silver hair," he
explained to his family.  "I want a bride who will stand out among our
people and be easily recognized."

     His mother disapproved but he was headstrong and, with his father
dead, she could not stop him.  He brought home a high-spirited girl from
the neighboring kingdom of Endril, Acantha.  Her merry laughter and
boisterous spirit were soon accepted and the people loved her.

     She fell ill one spring with a mysterious fever that left her weak and
near to death.  King Ilafrain was summoned and he arrived quickly, laden
down with all the healing knowledge he had been able to amass through the
years.  Side by side at massive oak tables, healers and king delved into
the scrolls in search of a cure for the failing lady.  When none could be
found Caldoan cried out for King Miralen.

     "What would you have of me? Miralen asked when the entered the castle
of Lippize.

     "You promised us your protection, Majesty," Caldoan said on bended
knee.  "Can you save Acantha by your magic?"

     "My protection was promised to your people," Miralen replied.  "She is
of Endril.  I will not save her for you."

     "But the child she bears is mine and therefore yours," Caldoan
entreated.


     "Then I will save the child," Miralen answered.

     He crossed the room and sat on the side of the bed where Acantha lay
and touched one hand to her fevered brow, another to her swollen belly.  "I
will not help you live," he whispered to her, "but I can ease your
passing."

     A bright glow enveloped them and the lady looked into Miralen's eyes.
She could not speak, but gave the King a look of understanding as she drew
her final breath.  When her spirit was gone, Miralen gave one mighty shove
on her abdomen and a tiny babe made its way into the world.

     The healers quickly tended to the newborn.  Ilafrain drew himself to
his full height and, with a heavy heart, crossed to stand near Caldoan.
"The child should not be allowed to live," he said, the most difficult
thing he had ever had to say in all his years.

     "What?" Caldoan asked.  "Why?"

     "Miralen saved the child with great reluctance, and only because of
the covenant.  Its soul is tainted with a magic such as you have never seen
before.  Its mind will be ... affected."

     "I'll kill him for that," Caldoan replied.  "He had no cause to harm
the babe."

     "Quiet, man!" Ilafrain said.  "You are about to break the covenant!
Do you wish to see all of your people cease to exist?"

     Caldoan quickly stopped his thoughts.  "Thank you, my King," he said
as he crossed to where Miralen stood near the foot of the bed, "for the
life of my child."


     "The child is yours alone," Miralen replied.  "He has neither my
protection nor my love until he earns it.  The Lippiz alone were found
worthy.  You have changed the bloodline by marrying this Endril girl."

     "The lords of Endril are steadfast and loyal," Ilafrain said as the
two kings departed.


     "I know," Miralen replied.  "I hold nothing against them.  But the
Lippiz were my chosen and that was changed by Caldoan's marriage and the
birth of this child."

     Caldoan took his cleansed and swaddled son in his arms.  "I shall name
you Bellard," he whispered to the child.

Chapter Three:

     Several days later, a weary and bedraggled Perilan was led into the
private chamber of Ilafrain.  The King was sitting in a chair near the
fireplace in the large room, a dark-haired companion on his lap, and a
scroll held carelessly in one hand.  Perilan waited near the entrance to
the chamber as one of the guards crossed the room and informed Ilafrain
that he had a visitor who seemed in great haste.

     "Fetch us ale," Ilafrain said, dislodging his intimate guest.

     "Yes, M'Lord," the lad, who appeared no older than Xoachin, said as he
made his way toward the door.

     The lad darted quickly past Perilan and went in search of someone who
could direct him to the ale cellar, smiling coyly at Perilan as he passed
him.

     Ilafrain dismissed his guard and motioned for Perilan to join him near
the fireplace.  "Arvad informs me that you are here on a matter of great
urgency," he said as Perilan sat in a massive oak chair.

     "Yes, Majesty," he said.  "I come on behalf of the Duke of Lippize."

     "Do you now?" Ilafrain asked.  "I sense some untruth in your words."

     "In part, a small untruth," Perilan replied.  "I am sent by Captain
Huton of the Duke's household guard with a message for your ears only
regarding Lord Bellard's son."

     "Go on," Ilafrain said, suddenly very interested.

     "I am to tell you that the willows are tired of tasting young
Xoachin's blood.  My captain said that you would understand."

     Ilafrain retrieved a heavy iron poker from its stand on the limestone
hearth and stirred the dying embers of the fire.  He was deep in thought
and seemed to have forgotten the young Lippiz guard who sat silently
waiting.

     Finally he turned to Perilan and said, "I understand only too well.
Come, your journey has been long and you should rest.  He led the young man
to a small room.  "Rest here," he said.  "It would bode ill if Miralen
should see one of the Lippiz guard at Aolane since we have no students from
Lippize in residence now."

     Perilan surveyed the small room and glanced back to see the smile on
Ilafrain's face.  "I have a wife," he said.

     "I know," Ilafrain replied.  "And that, young man, is a pity."

     The king cast magic around his chambers so that none could enter save
Nels, his current dalliance, and went to the castle archives.  Using the
same magic, he sealed the archives against any entrance and cast himself
toward Lippize and Xoachin.

     A soft light shone in one corner of Xoachin's small room and Ilafrain
stepped from it.  He crossed the room and gazed at the sleeping form on the
small cot.


     Xoachin stirred, shifted in his bed and Ilafrain leaned over and
whispered, "Sleep".  He lowered the rough covers and drew up the nightshirt
the young man wore.  The ragged cuts left by the unwilling willow branch
had begun to heal.

     "It is fortunate," the king whispered, "that the Lippiz heal without
scarring."

     Xoachin stirred again and stretched.  Ilafrain watched the ripple of
muscle beneath the golden skin.  He would have greatly desired Xoachin did
the boy not already possess Miralen's heart.

     Silently, Ilafrain passed through the castle walls and found Bellard.
The man had drunk himself into a stupor and sat asleep in a chair near the
cold fireplace, his right hand holding a tankard of ale that had spilled
onto the floor, his lower jaw hanging slack against his chest.

   "I should have wrenched you from your father's arms and smothered you,
he thought.

     Returning to Xoachin's small room, the Qell cast magic to seal the
room for the night and sat a silent vigil over the sleeping lad.

     The household staff was amazed the next morning when they awoke to see
one of the Qell Lords in the enormous castle kitchen eating a hearty meal.
Captain Huton was summoned to advise Duke Bellard of the unexpected guest.

     As he escorted the king to the duke's chambers Huton whispered, "Thank
you.  You arrived more quickly than I expected.  The journey between
borders is long."


     "Long by your terms, Captain.  Not by mine."

     "Majesty!" Bellard exclaimed as Ilafrain pushed open the great doors
and entered the private sitting room of the Duke of Lippize.  "Welcome.  We
were not expecting a visit from you."  His dislike did not go unnoticed.

     "I have come to check on the progress of your son.  His tutor writes
that he does well, but it has been too long since I observed his work
myself.  Summon him to me, and bid that he bring his lessons."

     "He most likely still sleeps," Bellard replied, unwilling for the Qell
Lord to see his son.  He was not sure that all of the wounds had healed.

     "Then wake him!" Ilafrain commanded.  He turned to Huton.  "Go,
Captain, and bring the boy before me."

     Huton cast an uncertain glance toward Bellard but left straight away
on his errand.  He hurried toward Xoachin's room and roused the sleeping
lad.

     "Quickly!" he said.  "King Ilafrain is here and seeks your attendance.
Gather your scrolls together."
     Xoachin's tutor, Carvel, sat in stunned silence under the
tongue-lashing Ilafrain rendered.  "Do you call this progress!?  Is this
the work expected of a future Duke?"  Ilafrain's face was red with anger.
"This - this I expect from the son of a common shepherd!"  He cast
Xoachin's scrolls into the now raging fire in the fireplace.  "This is
completely unacceptable!" he bellowed.

     "You are fit to teach only women!" he yelled as he pointed a finger in
Carvel's face.  He disliked what he was forced to do for Carvel was a
former lover and did not deserve what he was doing.  He hoped that his eyes
conveyed his sorrow for his actions.


     "As for you, young lordling," he said as he turned to Xoachin, "you
need a disciplined hand.  No more of this mollycoddling that you receive
under your father's roof!"

     He turned and said to Huton, "Captain, send word to saddle two strong
horses, with another two as reserve mounts.  I am taking this dullard lad
with me to Aolane.  He requires more intense tutelage than this excuse for
a tutor can provide.  He shot another quick look at Carvel, once so
beloved.

`Forgive me,' the look said.  "I shall have him reassigned to a backward
province, perhaps Caern Arvis."

     Bellard sat in silent shock as the Qell King took command of his
household, his son, his children's tutor.  Finally he managed to open his
mouth and speak.  "You would take my only son away?"  he asked.  He still
feared what the king might find should be curious about the boy's body.

     "Bellard," Ilafrain replied, "when have you ever cared about your
children?  They are but property to you.  And rest assured that I have no
interest in this son of yours.  I prefer quick wit and intelligence.  Your
son lacks both.  But he is your heir, and as such must have reason beaten
into him.  I care not for you, as you well know, but I do care for the
future of your kind."

     Bellard could not question the reasoning and had himself questioned
his son's ability to lead Lippize after him.  "Very well," he said.  "Take
the boy.  I have not been able to beat reason into him.  Perhaps you can."

     Xoachin was in tears as he mounted the gelding provided for him.  He
had studied so hard, and Carvel had never found fault with his work.  He
tried to search his mind for where he had failed.  It was difficult for him
to believe that the king's scathing words came so close to the beating his
father had delivered for a thing he had not done and would never do.

     The journey to Aolane began silently.  Xoachin rode near Carvel, each
lost in his own thoughts until Ilafrain motioned Xoachin to his side.

     "I am sorry," the King said, "for the words I had to say to your
father.  It was imperative that I remove you from his presence.
 You are not a dullard, lad.  You are very bright and will be a great
leader of your people."

     Xoachin barely grasped what he heard, so deep in sorrow he was.  "Yes,
Majesty," he meekly replied.

     Ilafrain looked at the lad and suddenly started to laugh.  "Do you not
see?" he asked.  I am taking you to Aolane ... to Miralen!  You shall
indeed be my student, but you will also be near the one you love."

To be continued ...

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