Date: Wed, 4 Jun 2003 23:18:15 -0700 (PDT)
From: Corrinne S <mdaigle@prodigy.net>
Subject: Dark Wishes Installment 16: Part 3 Chapters 10-12

Note: This is a gay themed novel about kings and
magic, love and war.  Although I will often allude to
sexual encounters there are no actual 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 Three

Chapter Ten

     The journey across Endril to Etamere's kingdom of
Tilben lasted two days for Chamel was near that
border.  Another week passed as the Kings and their
warriors traversed Tilben to the border threatened by
the barbarians.

     Missing his Consort, Trelaine was almost tempted
to wish himself into Fanna's arms each night.  He was
delighted when Dilby reached into his travel pouch and
produced the calico cat accidentally conjured years
earlier.  Magic, Trelaine named her.  Through her and
her twin who was Fanna's constant companion, Trelaine
could link his mind with Fanna's as they slept.
Sensing loneliness and fear in his love, he sent back
what comforting thoughts he could.

     As they neared the border, Etamere sent riders
ahead to let his army know that the Kings were
approaching.  One of them, Actar, returned shortly
riding his horse at full gallop.  Reigning in as he
neared his King he hurriedly said, "The enemy has
engaged and they are at battle, Majesties!  Our men
are outnumbered and pulling back!"

     The travelers were clad only in light armor and
would be at a disadvantage if they rushed to the
battlefield.  Not wishing to lose any of the warriors,
Trelaine cast his magic forward and called down a
thunderstorm so strong that the very air around them
was charged with the crackle of lightning.  Fearing
death should thunderbolts hit the metal weapons and
armor, the warriors cast down their weapons and fled
the battlefield.


     "I fear it is too late for negotiation," Etamere
said to Trelaine and Artilan.  "The barbarians will be
content with nothing less than war."

     "Then we will give them war," Artilan responded.
"They will have to face my army and that of Elanen as
well as your own, Etamere.  Their leaders might begin
to have second thoughts when they realize that a Qell
Lord stands with you."

     "They are not from any land bordering the ten
kingdoms," Etamere replied.  "They have never heard of
the Qell or the High King.  They are ignorant of magic
and believe only in their right to conquer, rape, and
pillage."

     "Then they must learn," Trelaine replied, his
voice as cold as ice.  "Honest battle for land I
understand.  Such is how it was with your ancestors,
Etamere.  The future of your people depended on it and
Galvan was a reasonable man.  But to rape and pillage
for nothing more than sport is something that I will
not allow!"

     Before the sun finished lowering on the western
horizon, the Kings and their armies had set up their
encampment.  They agreed to light as many campfires
and torches as possible hoping that the show of
strength would give the barbarians pause to reconsider
their actions.  To prevent scouts from approaching to
report back on their numbers, Trelaine cast his magic
around the area so that none could come near.  As
there was no high ground from which the enemy could
look down into the camp, the armies were both visible
and invisible.

     While the allied warriors were still crossing
Tilben, Fanna continued his routine.  He rose each
morning and sorted through the newest correspondence
from Elanen, answering such as he deemed needed a
response.  That duty discharged, he rode either
Filadon or Tilla each day for they needed the exercise
as much as he needed the cool morning wind in his
face.  The rest of his time was spent in the castle
archives with Buford searching out any scrolls he
could find that made reference to the Qell Lords.

     The fifth morning after Trelaine's departure,
Fanna read a message from Egbert.  "Majesty," Egbert
had written.  "I hesitate to bring this matter to you
but it requires your earnest attention.  Lord Willen's
youngest son, Adelin, was accused of molesting the
second daughter of Lord Brigante, Emiline.  Both young
people denied that it was Adelin who molested her
although she was most surely attacked by someone.  I
believe their denial for it is well known that the two
detest each other.  Lord Brigante's oldest son,
Rangel, swore that he had seen the deed done and took
it upon himself to slay Adelin.  It is my personal
belief that Rangel had no small part in the entire
situation as he has always hated Adelin for some
reason.  Now Lord Willen has sworn that there is a
blood feud between the two houses and there is talk of
sending their men against each other.  Only your
intervention can stop this and find the truth of the
matter.  It is my most earnest hope that you can bring
about a hasty solution to the problems besetting King
Etamere and return to Elanen before the land is torn
by these two ambitious lords."

     "Evander!" Fanna shouted.  "I need clothing to
travel and provisions for a week for myself and two
horses.  Have Tilla and Filadon saddled.  I can ride
them switch a back for I must get to our King with all
due haste!"

     Evander was very unsettled.  "You cannot ride
alone, M'Lord," he said.  " `Tis not safe and His
Majesty would be most displeased if you went without
your personal guard."

     Fanna knew that his servant was correct.  "Very
well then," he replied.  "Have my guard make their
preparations to join me.  I ride within the hour."

     Fanna pushed himself and his guard as hard as he
dared, allowing for the health of their mounts.  They
slept only long enough to rest the horses before Fanna
pushed them on again.  A small party of horsemen can
travel faster than an army and they arrived at the
battle camp in five days time.

     The camp was a flurry of organized chaos as the
warriors were being dressed in battle armor.  "It
seems we arrived in time for a good fight," one of
Fanna's guards remarked.

     A guard Fanna recognized as one of Trelaine's men
stopped them at the perimeter.  "I must see the High
King on an urgent matter," Fanna said.  The guard
admitted them to the camp and gave directions to the
tent where the Kings were giving out their final
battle plans to their captains.  Fanna urged Filadon
forward with his knees and the mighty beat of the
horse's hooves could be heard through the camp as
Fanna sped forward.

     Not all of the perimeter guards were as diligent
as the one Fanna and his men encountered.  On the
other side of the encampment a distracted guard fell
as a knife slid across his throat.  Three men crept
their way into the camp intent on discharging the duty
placed upon them by their leader, to kill King Etamere
and any others who were near at hand.  That they would
die as a result of their actions was of no consequence
to the men for they feared their leader more than they
feared death.

     Trelaine felt Fanna's presence and stepped out of
the command tent to greet his Consort, both pleased
and concerned at the young man's sudden appearance.
He was about to speak when a volley of arrows struck.
Trelaine stared in shock as Filadon went down, an
arrow deeply lodged in his heart.  Fanna lay trapped
beneath him on the ground, blood oozing from points
where two arrows had penetrated his light armor.

     Caught between an overwhelming desire to destroy
those responsible and the need to rush to Fanna's
side, Trelain flung his head back and shouted, "NO!"
in so loud a voice that a hush descended across the
area.  His already pale skin now seemed devoid of all
blood and his eyes began to glow.  His limbs started
to tremble and he was suddenly engulfed in a white
flame that sprang from his body and instantly consumed
the three assassins.

Chapter Eleven

     In the stunned silence that followed Artilan and
Etamere quickly took control.  By the time Trelaine
returned to his mortal being, orders had gone forth to
tighten the perimeter and the camp was being combed
thoroughly for more of the enemy.

     It required the effort of several men to lift
Feladon in order for the healers to see to Fanna.  His
body was quickly placed on a litter and carried to the
healer's tent.  The arrow that had lodged in his left
shoulder was easily removed.  The one in his left
thigh concerned them more.  The shaft had broken and
the arrow shoved deeply into muscle when Feladon had
fallen on him.

     The healers worked quickly to remove both arrows
before Fanna could regain consciousness.  When the
wounds had been dressed with healing mugwart poultices
a runner was sent to the Kings.

     Detmar ran to the Kings tent as quickly as he
could, his path hindered by warriors who were now clad
in full battle armor.  Giant war-horses milled around,
their keen scent catching the smell of a coming
battle.

     Short of breath when he burst into the tent
unannounced, Detmar dropped to his knees and blurted
out in ragged gasps, "Majesties.  He lives!  Lord
Fanna lives!"

     "Do you speak the truth?" Artilan demanded.

     "Yes, My Lord," Detmar responded.  Master Delan
sent me to tell you that his wounds have been tended
to."

     A shadow rose from one corner of the tent.
Detmar froze as he gazed upon the countenance of the
High King.  Trelaine had gone from pale to gray, his
skin matching the color of his eyes.  Taller than most
men, he towered over Detmar.  His normally well
groomed hair seemed to move around him with a life of
its own.

     "Alive?" he whispered.

    "Yes," Detmar repeated.

     "Go to him," Artilan said, but Trelaine was gone
before the words had been spoken.

     Trelaine rushed through the camp, man and horse
scurrying quickly from his path.  Reaching the
healer's tent he paused at the open flap.  A course
blanket covered the body of his love.  Breathing
deeply, Trelaine crossed to the cot where Fanna lay.
He dropped to his knees and grasped the limp right
hand.

     Fanna smiled at him weakly.  "What happened?" he
asked.  "I was ... and then.  Filadon!  What of
Filadon?"

     "Slowly, my love," Tris said.  "You were wounded
by enemy assassins."  He brushed the auburn locks back
from Fanna's face.  "I thought I had lost you."

     "He is a strong lad," a voice said and Trelaine
looked up to see Artilan's healer.  "He will recover
with time, rest, and good care.  No bones were broken.
 He must stay off of his leg until the muscle begins
to mend."

     "Thank you," Trelaine told the healer.  "I am in
your debt."

     "No," Delan replied.  "My brethren and I have
dedicated our lives to healing.  Saving this young
lord's life is but a small payment of the debt we
healers owe the two of you for your efforts to save
the ancient scrolls of our craft."

     "May I stay with him?" Trelaine asked.

     "More than that, Majesty," Delan responded.  "He
may be taken to your tent.  I fear we may need the
room here, and more, for there is still a battle to be
fought."

     "Not today," Trelaine said.  "There will be no
battle today or any other day.  These barbarians must
know that treachery will not continue."

     He gave Fanna a kiss and rose.  "See that he is
carried to my tent.  I have business to tend to."

     The Qell Lord, for that was what he must be,
withdrew and sought a place of solitude.  Finding a
small copse of trees just outside the perimeter of the
camp, he knelt down and drew his cloak across his
head.  He forced himself to concentrate on the enemy,
seeking out each evil soul.

     He passed, unseen in the form he had taken,
through the enemy camp.  The youngest of the warriors
he discounted because of their youth.  They would be
spared.  The barbarians traveled with their women and
children.  Trelaine paid little heed to him.  He
touched on souls weary of fighting; there was hope for
them.

     One by one the rest of the barbarians fell where
they stood or sat.  It was done quietly, deliberately,
individually, until there was no army.  The Qell Lord
returned once again to his mortal body, rose, and
returned to his own encampment.  "See to the women and
children," he said to Artilan and Etamere.  "The enemy
is no more."

     Fanna was sleeping when Trelaine entered his
tent.  He called his aid Carip to remove his armor and
slid carefully onto the pallet where his Consort lay.
Fanna felt his presence and moved closer, moaning
slightly from the painful wounds.

     Trelaine gathered his love to him and finally
found peace when Fanna's head sought its familiar
place on his shoulder.  A small moan when his love's
arm reached across his chest was quieted when the King
placed his hand on the wound and wished the pain to
ease.  Fanna tried to slide his knee across the King's
legs but the wound in his leg was too painful.
Trelaine reached down and gently grasped the leg,
drawing it across himself and touching that wound
also, wishing the pain to subside.

     Their journey home was, of necessity, slow.
Trelaine carried Fanna before him on his great mount,
Phaedra.  It would have been easier going with Sethen
for he was more sure of foot, but had not the strength
to carry both of them on the long trek.  Trelain let
his magic flow out from himself to his love in a
comforting embrace, easing the pain of the wounds.

     Trelaine called his warriors to an early camp
each evening and the apprentice healer, Detmar,
changed Fanna's dressing, placing fresh mugwart
poultices on the wounds.  And each evening Trelaine
gazed at them with great concern.

     "They heal," Detmar told him one such evening.
"The angry red is easing.  There is bruising still,
but there are no signs of poison from the body turning
the wounds black.  I see no festering.  Lord Fanna is
young and possessed of great strength.  He will
recover, Majesty."

     "I am here, you know," Fanna said.  "You might
ask me how I feel.  You speak around me as if I am a
simpleton."

     "Therein, Majesty," Detmar said, "lies the proof
that he improves."  Turning to look at Fanna he added,
"You have reached the point, young lord, where your
temper is worse than your wounds.  It will be
interesting to see which becomes easier to bear first,
your wounds for yourself or you temper from those
around you who must suffer from it."

     The passing days did show Fanna's moods change
hourly.  One moment he would express frustration at
the slowness of their journey, the next would express
anger at the men who had taken the life of his beloved
Filadon.

     Spring had settled into the valleys and lowlands
but the mountain passes remained cold.  Utmost care
was taken by all who attended the King and Consort to
prepare a comfortable pallet for Fanna each night.
And Trelaine held Fanna in his arms, willing away the
pain and healing itch.

     One such night, as Fanna lay with his head on
Trelaine's shoulder, the King could feel the hot sting
of his Consort's tears as they dropped on to his skin.
 "Are you in pain, my love?" he asked tenderly.

     "No," Fanna replied.  "I am disturbed by
heartache and guilt.  I am the reason Filadon is
dead."

     "It was not you who shot the arrow into his
heart," Trelaine replied.

     "No, but it was I who rode him into a war camp,
into danger."

     "No one knew that there were assassins in the
camp, Fanna," Trelaine said, concerned that his young
consort felt himself responsible for the death of his
steed.  "You were earnestly attempting to bring a
message to your sovereign lord, as well you should
have been.  The men who took Filadon from you, and
almost took you from me, have paid for their deed with
their lives and their souls, for I took those from
them before they died."

     Fanna levered himself onto his good arm and gazed
into Trelaine's silver eyes.  "What did you do with
their souls?" he asked in a hushed whisper.

     "I sent them to join others of their kind, in a
place from which there is neither redress nor escape.
That place is bound by magic, created by Miralen when
one he loved was taken from us."

     "Such a place, created by one of the three Qell
Lords, must be truly terrifying," Fanna said.

     Trelaine's eyes turned nearly black, a sign of
deeply hidden anger.  "It was intended to be," he
said, his voice suddenly turned cold.

     Sensing Fanna begin to withdraw from at the depth
of his emotion he turned their conversation.  "We will
breed you another war-horse, Fanna," he said.  "You
can care for Dradera until the foal is born."

     "I would like that," Fanna replied.  "But I will
never again ride another horse into a war camp."  He
eased his head once again to his lover's shoulder and
closed his eyes.  Pretending to fall asleep, he opened
his eyes on occasion and noted with sadness the look
of loss on the High King's face.

apter Twelve

     Aolane was set astir as couriers brought news of
the High King's return.  Down filled mattresses left
to air in the fortress windows were quickly put back
into place.  The castle pennants and banners were set
on the ramparts and in cottage windows, waving and
snapping in the sharp spring breezes.

     Trelaine dismounted and walked to the top of the
steps that led into the castle, taking Fanna by the
hand as he did.

     "My people," he said in so loud a voice that all
could hear, "you may have heard, but I wanted to tell
you myself that I have asked, and Lord Fanna has
agreed to be my Consort."

     Those present raised their voices in a cheerful
noise, true in the affection they had for their King
and his lover.  Fanna could hear mutterings of
preparation for a great celebration.

     "Remember this day," he heard an old woman tell
the grandchild she held in her arms.  "This is a great
day for Aolane and all of Elanen."

     "Glory be," Egbert whispered to Cook, "not even
Lord Karandal was ever made Consort."

     "I know," she replied as she wiped a tear from
one eye with the corner of her apron.  "I remember
when Fanna was a filthy little rascal who stole bread
from the kitchen."

     "Don't forget the pies," Egbert teased.

     "Pies!  I need to send the young ones out to
search for early spring berries for pies!  And the
fishers must be told to provide salmon for tonight's
feast.  And, oh dear, I wonder if we have enough of
the last summer harvest of vegetables.  And I don't
know if there are enough herbs!"  She set off toward
the kitchen in great haste, her mind concerned with
setting in place a banquet sufficient for the return
of their King and his great announcement.

     None of the Lords of the realm were in attendance
at the celebration that followed for they had not
expected the King's return and were busy with affairs
in their own provinces.  The banquet was shared with
the household staff and those who made their homes in
and around the great fortress.

     To ease the burden on the King's kitchen, each
household brought a portion of what was available in
their own homes.  There was an assortment of breads
and cheeses.  Sausages were taken from smokehouses and
added to the potatoes and carrots retrieved from root
cellars.

     Trelaine and Fanna were touched to the depths of
their hearts by the genuine joy and happiness the
people showed for them.  Fanna knew that the King had
been right; the knowledge of their union would best be
celebrated in each village and hamlet in Elanen.

     Aided by the tasty treats Cook provided for him
and the constant care of Detmar, Fanna began to
improve at a rapid pace.  Detmar had been charged by
King Artilan to stay until Fanna was completely healed
before returning to Endril.  Able to move about more
easily, Fanna showed Detmar the archives of Aolane.

     While Fanna and Detmar delved into the healer
scrolls, Trelaine tended to such business of his
kingdom as he dared.  The time was not yet right for
him to confront his recalcitrant lords, Willen and
Brigante.  Egbert had started an investigation into
the situation during his absence and Trelaine wanted
to read through all that Egbert had found before he
summoned the Lords to hold a High Court.

     As the weather improved, Trelaine sat more and
more in the garden, as if seeking guidance and counsel
from one who was so near, and yet so far away.  He
read through Egbert's report, fed his beloved doves,
and sent pages scurrying to summon this witness or
that.

     It was not lost on Fanna that Trelaine seemed
distant since their return to Elanen.  He knew that he
was still greatly loved but the King seemed to have
withdrawn from him some subtle way.  Their loving was
remained a mixture of the same tenderness and passion
as before, but Trelaine seemed to be filled with a
great sadness.  Or fear, Fanna was not sure which.

     One warm morning in the late spring Detmar
proclaimed Fanna fully recovered.  "You are as fit as
ever you were," he said.

     "And you must return to Endril," Fanna responded.
 He would miss the apprentice healer for they had
formed a deep friendship.

     "I shall leave on the morrow," Detmar replied
equally sad at his imminent departure.  "I want to
thank you, Lord Fanna, for allowing me freedom to
spend time in the healer archives.  The copies you
provided of the scrolls I wanted will be greatly
appreciated by Delmar."

     "It has ever been the intent of the High King and
myself that knowledge stored here will be available to
all, Detmar," Fanna replied.  "And now, if you will
excuse me, there is something I must do."  Fanna
turned and left his apprentices to pack the scrolls
Detmar had chosen.

     He sent a page ahead of him to the stables to
request that his light horse, Tilla be saddled.  Of a
sudden he felt the need to ride out of the fortress
and seek a place of solitude for his thoughts.

     He gingerly tested his left thigh as he slipped
his foot into the stirrup and lifted himself to
Tilla's back.  There was a vague twinge of pain but
very little weakness.  He could not ride alone, such
was not to be for the Consort.  A small contingent of
his guard would ride with him.  He did not resent
their presence for he knew he could find the solitude
he desired for the answers he sought.

     They rode for an hour before Fanna found a place
that suited his mood.  He called his guard to a halt
and dismounted.  The twinge was still in his thigh but
nothing to cause great discomfort.  Signaling the
guard to stay with the horses, he walked toward a
meadow.

     Knee length grass drifted back and forth in a
gentle breeze.  Wildflowers showed their colorful
heads in scattered patches.  A brook flowed nearby and
the water could be heard as it fell across a tiny
waterfall.  The world smelt fresh and new.  Hawks
circled lazily as they searched for an unwary
titmouse.  Fanna could hear the buzzing of bees as
they sought the nectar that they would carry to their
hives to nourish the queen.  Other tiny insects filled
the meadow as the breeze pulled at Fanna's shoulder
length hair and fanned it about his face.

     He found an ash tree and sat beneath it; plucked
a piece of fragrant grass and sucked the sweet
moisture from it.  He reveled in this place, this
meadow with its singing brook.  He knew that he could
have died when Filadon fell on him, yet here he was
surrounded by life.

   His thoughts turned to his lover, the High King of
ten kingdoms and King only of Elanen by his own
desire.  Fanna closed his eyes and leaned against the
ash.  In his mind he could see another field, a lonely
and neglected one.  The grasses grew high over ancient
ruins and abandoned courtyards.  He had never been
there but of a sudden he knew the place.  Its name had
long been lost, its memory forgotten.  But not
forgotten by one.  There was one living who had deep
memories of that place: memories of love and
tenderness, of carnage and destruction.  Fanna felt
his tears begin to flow as those memories washed over
him.  He had no idea what had driven him to this place
or why those thoughts were so vivid in his mind, but
he knew what he had to do.

     Fanna gathered himself and returned to the guard.
 Their journey back to Aolane was much swifter, the
twinge in his leg forgotten in his need to be with
Trelaine.

     Trelaine was in their apartment when Fanna
returned, sipping hot tea in front of the fireplace.
"You've returned," he said.  "Egbert told me you had
taken Tilla for a ride."  Confused by the look on
Fanna's face he asked, "Are you well?"

     Dropping to one knee, Fanna reached out and took
Trelaine's right hand.  Planting a kiss on the
knuckles he said, "My Lord King, I come before you
with a petition that I beg you to consider."

     This was not the action of a Consort before his
lover, nor had Fanna ever behaved in such a manner.
Trelaine became greatly concerned.  "Anything," he
said.  "You know that I would grant you anything you
desire, Fanna."

     "Perhaps not, Majesty, when you hear my
petition."

     Trelaine understood that Fanna came to him not as
a lover, but as a subject of his kingdom, perhaps the
entire ten kingdoms.  "Very well, what is your
petition?"

     "There is, near the kingdom of Endril, a place
where one is buried that I would ask you to bring to
Aolane and bury next to Lord Karandal."

     Trelaine was suddenly filled with anger.  "Why?"
he asked.  "Why would have me desecrate that resting
place?"

     "Because," Fanna replied, "Xoachin came to me as
I sat in a meadow this day.  My Lord," he begged,
"please.  Just as you have sent some souls to that
place of perdition, so do you need the souls of those
you love near to you.  Lord Karandal lies close to
you.  Perhaps one day I shall, if you do not banish me
this day.  The spirit of another wishes to lie near
you also."

     Trelaine's anger vanished as he realized that
Fanna spoke from the depths of his heart.  The tears
that fell from his lover's eyes melted his heart and
he knelt and took Fanna in his arms.  "If it is your
wish, then I will grant it," he said.