Date: Sun, 28 Sep 2003 21:05:48 -0700 (PDT)
From: Corrinne S <quasito_cat@yahoo.com>
Subject: Dark Wishes Instalment 32: Part 5 Chapter 5

This is the ongoing sequel to `Dark Wishes', both
copyrighted under Nifty and International Common Law.
I received the suggestion, and gained permission from
the most important gay person in my life, to add a bit
of physical as well as emotional love to the series.
There will be no descriptions of specific body parts
or exchange of semen because I had enough response to
the original series to know that some things are best
left to the mind of the reader.  This is a love story.
 How you choose to interpret the way the characters
show their physical love for each other is at your
discretion.

Unspoken Wishes

M.C. Gordon

Part One: Markel

Chapter Five

     Their first days together passed quickly as the
two Qell Lords, aided by Markel, gathered more of the
fallen stones of Aolane to complete the walls of their
small abode.  Winter had barely begun and Markel
feared it would be harsh for he had one gift from his
ancient ancestors of which he was sure, a weather
sight.  More dried grasses were gathered to feed
Iashain's magic fire.  Shelter was found for Perinel
and Shonnera, and fodder stocked until spring returned
and the horses could feed on the wild grasses around
Aolane.

     Great Perinel, enjoying the cold far more than
Markel, ran freely among the ruins, stopping now and
again to paw the ground with his giant hooves.  Doing
thus, he unearthed unsuspected patches of edible
tubers.  Unharvested and untamed for countless years,
the roots produced again each season   Markel
gratefully removed them from the not yet frozen ground
and placed them in a dark place amid the castle ruins,
for the danger of starvation was great.

     When Markel warned of a coming ice-storm, the
Qell brought the horses into their new shelter.  "She
quickens," Tynan remarked to Iashain when he touched
Shonnera.  "She will bear a foal before spring."

     The storm struck with a ferocity even Markel had
not foreseen and the world became treacherous.
Branches of trees in the forests broke beneath the
weight of ice and fell to the ground.  Iashain used
his magic to cast protection around the wild life
existing at the edges of the ruins.

     Unable to venture out in the severe storm, for
even lords of magic can slip on ice and injure
themselves, Tynan and Iashain decided it was a good
time to search for the King's treasure.  When Markel
fell asleep, his mind and body satiated from Iashain's
lovemaking, the two sat in the center of the room.
Joining minds as they joined hands, they sought
Trelaine's memories.

     Slowly, as if venturing through a deep fog,
memories from the last High King came to his brothers
of magic.  They began to see Aolane in all its ancient
glory and splendor.  Each room, staircase, and
passageway was marked indelibly in their minds.  They
knew where their brothers had lived with their lovers,
could see those rooms clearly.  Seeking deeper, ever
deeper through magic which was their own and that
lingering touch left behind by others, they finally
found that which they sought ... the dungeons of Aolane.

     "Can we move the massive stones that cover the
entrance?" Iashain asked when the spell ended.

     "Our magic is not yet strong enough," Tynan
replied.  "We could use Perinel to help bear the heavy
weight but we need a harness and rope."

     "None of which we will find after so many
centuries of neglect," Iashain lamented.  "Our
resources are limited."

     The two sat in silence and dismay for the King's
treasure was a great part of their plan to improve the
condition of Elanen.  "Vines," Iashain finally
supplied.

     "Vines?" Tynan asked.

     "Vines indeed!" Iashain exclaimed as he looked
toward the eastern-most wall of their refuge, for
against it was the mound of vines he had pulled down
when he repaired the wall.

     "The forest trees are full of them," he
explained.  "They have encroached everywhere and I
needed to remove these.  They might retain enough
suppleness to fashion into a rope and harness."

     With Markel's willing help the vines were soon
stripped of drying leaves and woven into long lengths
of rope.  From these Tynan fashioned a crude harness
for Perinel.  The massive steed balked at the
unnatural feel until some memory came to Iashain and
he reminded the gigantic beast that his kind had once
pulled travois bearing wounded warriors from
battlefields.

     It took several days to remove enough of the huge
stones that the entrance to the dungeons could be
opened.  They could have worked more quickly if they
had also utilized Shonnera but the Qell would not risk
her or her unborn.  Each young, of any kind, that
could be brought safely into the world was one of the
deepest desires of the magic pair.

     Slowly, for Perinal's great strength could not be
tasked beyond his endurance, the entrance was
revealed.  The lords knew the location of that which
they sought but were stopped by a wall of solid stone.

     "This must go," Tynan said and summoned as much
power from his magic as he could.  Iashain's fingers
wrapped about his brother's and the two of them
brought down the wall.

     Their thrill at having found the treasure was
equaled by an unexpected sight.  "Look!" Iashain
exclaimed in excitement.  "Here are books, protected
these long years by a magic that Trelaine must have
cast before he left the world of mortal men."

     "And here!" responded Tynan, equally excited.
"Here are hides in good supply to use as we take tally
of populations and foodstuffs in Elanen."

     "I would like to aid in what way I can," Markel
replied from the opening to the room.  "I will try
very hard, Lord Iashain, to learn to read and write if
you will teach me."

     Iashain crossed to the doorway and gently lifted
Markel's face with one slender hand.  "Am I not more
than a lord to you, beloved?" he asked.  "The many
nights we have known pleasure of each other give you
the right not to call me `lord'.  I prefer hearing you
say my name, without title, as you do when I cause
your voice to speak what your mind and body feel when
we share our bodies in love."

     Tynan rolled his eyes toward the ceiling, knowing
what would soon happen.  "Find a comfortable spot
here," he said to Iashain.  "I cannot sleep at night,
indeed I doubt the dead can rest in peace, for the
sound of you cooing over each other.  Perhaps this
afternoon I will find a little quiet."

     Iashain glanced about for a suitable spot and
burst into merry laughter at Tynan's grumbling as the
Qell made his way back to the room they shared.  "All
night and now the middle of the day," he mumbled.  "Do
they never grow tired?  Do they not need sleep?"

 . . .

     Six days after the storm began, it ended.  The
world was lost in ice.  Markel chopped some of the ice
free and melted it in the pot Tynan had found, adding
some of the tubers in an attempt to make a warm meal.

     "You might want to add a bit of magic to that
pot," Tynan told Iashain.  "Markel might be a wonder
in your bed but his cooking skills leave much to be
desired."

     Iashain was about to give back a sharp reply at
any remark that was less than gracious about his love
when a hard pounding at their door gave him pause.
Puzzled, he crossed the room and opened the door.
Several people blue with cold stood on the stoop.  He
quickly ushered them into the semi-warm room.

     "I be Usan," the oldest man told them.  "T'
others be my kin: my sister, brother, brother's son,
and my mother's sister's son's son.  T' grandmothers
told us that we should find you and offer service.
Frina c'n cook an' tend hides.  She also be a fair
weaver an' seamstress.  My brother Hanrad be a mason
and wishes to help rebuild Aolane.  His son Melcron be
a herdsman.  T' lad there, Efren, shows no gift yet
but be willing as a body-servant."

     "Come, and quickly," Iashain told them, for the
icy cold quickly permeated the room.  "How long have
you journeyed here?" he asked as he closed the door.

     "Long days and nights," Usan replied.  "We would
have traveled any length to serve t' Qell.  We be
honored if we can aid the Kings."

     "Nonsense," Tynan spoke.  "We are honored that
you came to us.  Perhaps Frina would see what can be
done to improve the questionable soup simmering in yon
pot."

     Iashain bit back another retort as Markel nudged
him in the rib with one elbow.  Efren, a handsome lad
approaching his twentieth year, was shivering near the
hearth.  His ashen hair was dark and damp from melting
ice crystals.  His eyes, pale grey with flecks of
amber, darted from one Qell to the other and back
again.  Iashain quickly judged the lad's character and
found himself recognizing the yearning on the young
face.  He was amazed that Tynan did not feel the
intense desire that simmered in this one's soul, an
unquenchable longing to be held in masculine arms and
loved until he was content.

     Smiling as a thought came to mind he whispered to
Markel, "Go to the dungeons and fetch back several
warm coverings," for blankets had also been among the
hidden bounty of Aolane's past wealth.

     Markel scurried away on his errand, also aware of
the strong feelings emanating from the quiet young
stranger.  He returned moments later with enough
blankets for all, including a plentiful supply for
bedding.

     Efren smiled shyly as Markel offered to help
remove his damp cloak and encased him in the
comforting warmth of a blanket made from the warm wool
of sheep from a province that had ceased to exist even
before the end of Trelaine's time.  "Have you lived
with them long?" Efren finally asked.

    "Not long," Markel replied.  "But long enough to
know their intention to aid all the inhabitants of
Elanen."

     "Is it true?" Markel asked, "that the Qell Lords
will love only men?"

     "True, yet not true," Markel said.  "They love
all life, male and female, plant and animal.  They
know that for life to continue there must be a mating
between men and women, and that it is best if that
mating is done with love and consideration of each for
the other.  If you ask the truth that they will mate
only with men ... that is true."

     "Are you their mate?" Efren asked, finally
growing warm and feeling safe to reveal himself.

     "I am Iashain's lover," Markel replied, "if that
is what you wish to know.  Lord Tynan has not yet
found the one he would love enough to share his seed
with."

     Efren drew in a deep breath and whispered, "There
are those who believe it is the mating of men and
women that gives life to the crops and herds."

     Iashain chuckled as he approached the two.  "A
fine belief," he said smiling.  "Let those who choose
women use their seed to fertilize them and the fields.
 They have my approval.  For myself, I prefer Markel's
field for the sowing of my seed.  I cannot begin to
imagine the reaction to magic Halflings if we Qell
were to go about lying with women for the five hundred
years allotted to our lives."

     "A true and good thought, M'Lord," said Frina,
whose presence had been ignored.  "A child of two is
more'n enough for a mother to fret o'er.  "But one wi'
magic?"  She placed the palm of her right hand against
her heart and the back of her left hand to her
forehead in a mock swoon.

     Efren laughed at the thought of his kinswoman
running down a two-year old whose chubby legs ran only
half as fast as his mind thought they did, wishing the
napkin around his bottom gone, and succeeding with
only a thought.  So vivid was the image in his mind
that he almost told Frina she would have many children
who would go beyond the age of two.

     Iashain interrupted his thought by asking Frina
if the soup was ready for serving.  At her affirmative
reply he ladled a bowl for Tynan and handed it to
Efren.

     "Please take this to your king," he said.

     Efren hesitated and then did as he had been bid,
shyly approaching the tall lord who was talking with
Usan about herds and grains.  As he handed the bowl to
Tynan their fingers brushed.  And for the young man
the entire world stopped and ceased to exist.  The
only awareness in his mind was the feel of the magic
lord's fingers against his.  He froze, as if caught by
some unexplained force of nature, unwilling to let the
touch end.  His entire body began to tingle and he
only let go the bowl when his loins reacted and his
desire displayed itself against the loose fabric of
his breeches.  Shocked by his reaction, Efren mumbled
something unintelligible and ran out of the sheltered
room into the frozen night.

To be continued

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