Date: Thu, 15 Nov 2001 17:59:44
From: Ganymede
Subject: Ring Around the Rose Chapter 13

The Ring Around the Rose, by Ganymede


WARNING:


This story contains graphic descriptions of sexual acts
between men and MINOR boys. It is not true! The story is not
intended to promote illegal acts against minors. I do not
condone child abuse, however the love of boys is a different
matter. Despite the prevalent attitudes of western society,
men have loved boys throughout recorded history. It is my goal
to help readers appreciate that love can exist between men
and boys. If the subject of man/boy love offends you, if
this material is illegal in your place of residence, or if you
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Any similarity to individuals, living or dead, is entirely
accidental. The sexual acts described in the story are the
result of my imagination. I have not performed these acts, and
I do not encourage others to perform them with minors.

The story is copyrighted under the pseudonym, Ganymede. Copies
have been placed in two archives for your enjoyment.
The story cannot be used to derive monetary gain. The story
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THE COPYRIGHT OF OTHERS:

Throughout the story there are poems and songs by others. I do
not claim this work as my own. These poems and songs are included
within single quotation marks. In some cases, I have modified the
original to suit my purposes. Citations and sources have not been
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FINAL WARNING:

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The Ring Around the Rose, by Ganymede

Chapter 13. We Leave the Mount.



When we arrived at the armory, Sandor and Kadri had already
made a selection of weapons for themselves and were busy attiring
themselves in polished-silver armor. It was only to be expected
that they were excited by the adventure that was in the offing,
yet they grinned at Michel with friendly equanimity as soon as he
stepped into the room.

"You're always naked," Sandor laughed. "I don't think I've
ever seen you with clothes on except when you are eating."

He regarded Michel teasingly while he tried a sword for size
by wielding it in his hand. He thrust at an invisible enemy,
whose position only he knew, then leaped back against the wall
and raised his arm to strike again. For boys, the armory was one
of the most interesting places on the Mount. It held a variety of
weapons collected from distant lands as well a full range of arms
for all the men and boys. We walls were of ashlar stone and had
been pegged with small iron spikes to support equipment that was
seldom used, maces, shields, crossbows, even axes.

"Too heavy," he noted. He replaced the sword upon the table.
"Don't tell me he poked your hole while the Master was decorating
your behind, Michel," he added with a grin.

After Michel had indicated his denial with a curt shake of
his head, Kadri giggled and tried to look behind his friend.

"So turn and around and show us, Miel."

His giggle quickly faded when Michel turned, and placing his
hands upon his hips, bent over. Both boys stared in open-mouthed
surprise.

"It's huge," Kadri said in awe.

"You're right, but what did you expect, Kadri? A little rose
like yours?" Sandor joked.

Kadri blushed, which only encouraged sandor to tease him
more.

"You've had Master Aidan in your bum once more than I have,
so you should know exactly what Michel's been through nine times,
or even more," he taunted without restraint. "For Michel, the
result is beautiful, either by the pattern on the flesh or by the
deed itself."

I chuckled. "I must say that I agree. But to be honest, it's
been no more than nine, I fear for I've haven't mounted him again
since we awoke. I don't want to wear him out."

My ribald comment immediately produced another laugh, even
from Michel who had taken a position by the table to examine what
was there.



"You'll never Michel wear out. Not with a rose like that,"
Sandor chortled as he pointed. "He could take stallion in his bum
and still come back for more."

"While I'm sure that you boys have much to share, and
Michel's rear condition is an issue of amusement, we really have
to hurry," I said to get them moving once again.

My comment also served to remind Michel of the need for
haste. To avoid the brunt of Sandor's crude remarks he had
stepped closer to the shelves to examine some of the shorterMy
blades that were often used by men and boys. He nodded absently
as he studied the array. A broad, curved scimitar had advantages
of momentum in combat, while a rapier could be employed to rapid
shifts of an opponent.

"Which one should I choose, Master Aidan?" he asked
uncertainly.

I smiled. His training to that point had been insufficient
for him to make an educated selection that would be appropriate
for a boy of his stature. Instead, of chosing blindly, Michel
wanted my opinion. I felt honored.

"For myself, I like a sword that is not ornate. Its purpose
is for killing, not for strutting in the street. You should look
for sturdiness, a sharp blade, a metal guard and pommel that will
protect your wrist, and, of course a grip that will not slip.
Some warriors prefer wire wrapped, others leather-bound, but
avoid the ones with gems. My preference is for one like that," I
added. I pointed to the sword he held. "A rat-tail tang
construction."

Michel nodded and thoughtfully considered the sword. "How do
I know the size is right."

"The one that fits best within your hand," I answered
simply. "Test the balance by weighing it. "

"How do I do that?"

"Just as Sandor has done. Hold your arm straight out and
think of the blade as an extension of your hand. Now, move the
blade as if to thrust and parry. How does it feel?"

"Heavy," Michel puffed.

His biceps tensed with the physical effort of holding a
sword that was much too long for him. It would be several years
before he could wield it with any confidence, and even then the
weapon was intended for a man. A month of rigorous exercise had
strengthened his body two-fold from when he first entered the
Mount. He chose another, a much shorter weapon, but one that had
strange indented markings upon the shaft. Nonetheless, it was as
dangerous a weapon as he had ever held. The blade was polished to
a brilliant shine with an edge that could slice a limb without
effort. Unlike the other swords of bronze or iron, this sword had
a golden sheen.

"This is much better," Michel acknowledged as he hefted the
sword and made a cautious swipe.

Strangely, the sword that Michel held out would also have
been ideal for Sandor and Kadri for they were of nearly the same
size and probably no stronger. I was surprised that neither boy
had taken it for himself since it was clearly very special.

Standing naked in the posture of a warrior, his slender legs
astance, I could not help but feel a surge, a thrill of lust for
Michel that was unlike any other. How many poets had acclaimed
the raw sexual power of a dangerous boy warrior? My Favonius
lover had been transformed before my eyes.

I selected a suit of armor that appeared as if it might fit
without too much adjustment. Once we left the Mount, there would
be little opportunity to task a blacksmith to achieve a better
match with me. I hurriedly removed my robe as Michel came over to
assist. It was interesting to observe how rapidly he adjusted to
the role of minion, serving his master's every whim, both in bed
and in a battle. He picked up the breast plate and held it out to
me, then dashed around behind me to tighten the leather straps
securely. It was followed by shoulder armor which he buckled by
standing on a chair. I very nearly kissed him when his lips came
close to mine. The last piece to be attached was the groin
protector, a curved metal shield that cupped over the sexual
organs and was strapped both at the waist and around and under
the legs. I had not worn armor for more than a month so I moved
uncomfortably. The straps chaffed my skin, the metal was cold and
hard, but the fit was as good as any armor I had ever worn, if
not yet battle damaged.

"Now you, Michel," I said as I picked up the much smaller
set of armor that had been lying next to mine.

Like the stubby sword he had selected, this armor was also
of a strange color. However, even as I lifted the golden
breastplate up to see if it would fit, I realized that it had
been made exactly right. Michel's tiny nipples matched precisely
into the tiny points that had been hammered into the shield.
Similarly, the curves across the lower section were shaped to
meet his stomach, a dimple identifying the exact location of his
whorled navel as if he had nothing on at all. I fastened the
straps with shaking hands and wondered whether the Master had
arranged for the armor to be made to fit Michel. However, even as
the thought passed through my head, I noted the condition of the
leather. Like mine, it was well-oiled, but Michel's straps were
supple and soft with age and frequent handling. It was only then
that I realized that the armor he would be wearing for the quest,
was very, very old.

Had Sandor and Kadri sensed the mystery of it all, as if
everything we did was predestined in some way? I glanced at them,
yet I saw no recognition in their eyes. They were so clearly
lovers that I had to smile. They gazed at each other often in
silent, deep affection. I felt immediate admiration for them. I
could think of no other pair of boys who so deserved to be
together. Again, I wondered whether they had taken vows. It was a
chilling but exciting thought for the sacrifice would cost one or
both of the boys dearly.

The shoulder piece slid neatly past his head. It was also
perfectly shaped and buckled into place without any adjustment.
Barely a hair could be placed between the metal and Michel's
skin. Next, I picked up the groin armor. I knew Michel's body so
intimately, that the contoured shape in the center of the shield
could only be his. A small penis-bulge that tapered gracefully to
a pointed end, a rounded swelling underneath that would hold his
scrotum securely, but not so tight that it would un-man him.
However, unlike the delicate skin that I loved so much, the metal
was cold and hard and without the ability to change its shape
upon a moment's notice.

"E-eee-ch," Michel' screeched when the shield was fitted
into place.

"It hurts?"

"No, it's colder than ice," Michel gasped. "It feels like my
cock is frozen stiff."

"Well, you're certainly used to being stiff," Sandor
laughed. "It shouldn't bother you, although Master Aidan will
have to be careful that he doesn't snap it off."

"I'm not!" Michel retorted. "Besides, yours gets hard as
often as mine," he added with a shameless smirk.

"Enough talking boys," I countered with a growl. "We must be
on our way. Michel, that armor comes with spurs. I doubt that you
have ever used them in practice. The weapon is quite unusual and
of  ancient origin, but we will take them with us anyway. That
leaves your other choice of weapon to the sword you carry."

I picked up the lethal-looking spurs, a pair of golden
clawed arcs that were attached to leather gauntlets. There were
also a pair of legs spurs that were far more dangerous when they
were strapped just above the ankle. With a single kick, a
fighting boy could slit a throat or remove a foot.

I glanced at Kadri. He hefted his weapons boldly, ready for
adventure. Besides a sword he had chosen to carry graceful
stiletto-bow and a quiver of feather-tipped arrows. It was a good
choice for a Favonius boy. By contrast, Sandor had selected a
whip that was cruelly ended in a metal star. I shuddered,
thinking of the damage he could do with that. What bothered me
more than anything else was that only Michel had weapons suited
to hand-to-hand combat. I made the only choice possible, a spear
with an oaken shaft and a broad blade that could be used to
inflict scathing injury

With a sudden sense of impeding doom, I led the way from the
armory, running swiftly with the boys so close behind me that I
could feel their breath upon my back. Once inside the Tower, I
abandoned all restrain and leaped from one haphazard landing to
the one below.

On the stairs were closer to the Master,and  his thoughts
immediately consumed my mind. I listened to his urgent advice as
carefully as I could. If all went well, and according to the
Master's mind, there would be transport and supplies for us once
we had crossed the mud flats and reached a rocky promontory to
the east. It was for that reason that we could not use the
causeway to reach land. The important thing was to hurry. There
was no point in trying to descend the slippery stairs with care.
Our success depended entirely on fulfilling the requirements of
the Oracle. Above us, Ronan was expending the last of his energy
to keep the Order from changing to Sagittarius. Only seconds
remained before he let go of the heavy wooden block.

'Good luck, Master Aidan. Remember to keep Michel close to
you wherever you must go. Beware of the claw on the beast's
tail,' was the last I heard before the roar of silence filled my
ears.

We dashed downwards as if pursued by an invincible foe, an
impossible escape without the faintest trace of light. The
slightest loss of footing would send one or more of us of
plummeting head first to crash against the hewn walls. Several
times I slipped and I was barely able to regain my balance.
Another time, Michel came hurtling past me. I recognized his
high-pitched scream of terror just as I managed to catch his arm
and yank him back. It would have been a painful death for we had
reached the place where the tunnel became much larger and the
distance to the floor below was considerably further.

Michel shuddered violently, his fear taking his reason until
I managed to calm him with a kiss. Moments passed before we began
to run again. I felt my energy sagging, less through exhaustion
than from the danger we were in. Suddenly, my foot struck sand.
We had reached the bottom. I shouted a warning to the boys behind
me, and grabbing Michel's sweating hand, I ran towards the
postern door. I counted off the paces, from one to thirty before
I stopped and cautiously felt into the darkness before me.
Another pace and my fingers brushed across the aged wood. It was
unlocked, but it did not move when I turned the handle. We
pushed. We shoved, we pushed again, but it would not budge until
Kadri and Sandor slammed against us.

"Again," I shouted, for I had felt the resistance ease just
enough to admit the narrowest shaft of light. "All together. On
the count of three."

We needed an elephant instead of a man and three young boys.
We bruised our shoulders with each attack upon the door. However,
each time we struck it opened just a little further. The gap
widened to the thickness of a hand.

"I can see the sea," Michel shouted. "Push harder. Just a
little further and I will be able to slip through."

Two more bruising shoves were needed before Michel was able
to slide through. His body was lean with a narrow chest and hips.
By turning side on, he managed what the other boys could not. He
vanished from sight.

"It's a huge rock, Master Aidan," he called out. "It must
have fallen from the cliff above."

"Michel! Get someone from the village to help you," I urged.
"Don't try to move it by yourself. Hurry, please hurry."

Some might call my startling vision of the tottering block
of wood, intuition. Others might say that it was magic, or due to
a higher power, a divine sight. For myself, I did not think, but
acted as I should. Again, I slammed my shoulder up against the
door, hoping that the armor there would protect my bones from
breaking. Kadri and Sandor joined recklessly with, but like
mosquitoes in a storm we seemed not to achieve a greater opening.
Without warning, as we backed away for another desperate lunge,
the door swung open, so wide that the vista of the sands and the
gray sky above filled my eyes. Michel grinned as we joined him on
the beach. As far as the eye could see, the mud flats were
exposed. We were off the Mount and not a moment too soon.

"Listen," Sandor said.

In the distance we could hear the bells ringing in the
Tower. The Order had changed. Another part of the Oracle had been
fulfilled. I breathed out in relief, then out of curiosity I
placed my hand upon my little lover's shoulder.

"How did you move it?" I asked.

The rock was more than huge. It was an enormous slab that
would have weighed a dozen men, yet Michel and moved it on his
own. He regarded me nervously.

"I don't know," he answered simply. "It simple rose up into
the air when I looked at it. It floated out of the way."

Kadri smirked knowingly at Sandor. He did not comment. No
one spoke, not implying that Michel had lied, but not able to
offer an explanation of our own. I stared at Michel. The silence
of awe hung over us, like the gloomy clouds above, yet unlike
that listless, miserable day, there was light. That light was
Michel's smile.

"It's true," he proclaimed. "I know you don't believe me,
but it is true. I didn't move it. It moved itself."

"It's magic," Sandor mused.

"Magic?" Kadri queried.

"What else could it be?" Sandor answered.

"Levitation," I answered quietly. "I've heard tales of
mystics in the East who can move things simply by thinking of
them. It's possible that Michel,..." I stopped there and held my
tongue. Some things were better left unsaid.

Michel shrugged. "It's cold," he stated.

It was cold, bone-chilling cold, and our metal-skinned
attire was dangerously insufficient to keep the wind away. The
wind swept across the mud flats and struck our exposed skin. It
howled above us, making an eerie sound across the battlements.

"Let's go boys," I said. "We have a long way to travel
before the tide comes in."

I will not describe all of the long ordeal as we plodded
onwards to a distant, barely visible horizon. Suffice it to say
that we very nearly died, consumed by flood and cold. We walked
with our faces lowered, our hands covering our mouths and noses
to deflect the wind. My fingers whitened. Crystals of ice formed
beneath my nostrils. My fingers stuck together. My eyes watered,
and for a terrifying moment I could not see for my eyelids would
not open. My respect grew immeasurably for the three boys who
followed me. There were no complaints other than a few grumbles
when the wind swirled around us and chilled places that needed
warmth to function. But not Michel. For one reason or another, he
marched alongside me without a word.

"Are you alright, Miel?" I asked after we had gone about
halfway according to my estimation.

"I think so," Michel answered hoarsely.

"Does the rose hurt badly?"

He shrugged and kept walking valiantly. Other boys were
usually kept in bed for a day or two following the Making of the
Rose. I wanted to carry him, or at least lighten his load by
carrying his weapons. However, in some matters he was obstinate,
like me. When next we spoke, I changed the topic.

"Are you hungry?"

"Thank you for reminding me," Michel joked feebly. "I
haven't eaten since yesterday."

It was as close as he would come to giving vent to what he
must be feeling. In every way, I loved him. What man would not? I
remembered my description of the ideal boy I had given when I had
met the Master for the first time:

'A boy who is full of wisdom,

sublime in spirit, and perfect in beauty,

A boy who sings with the nightingale,

who has the speed of a cheetah,

the reflexes of a cobra,

and the grace of an antelope.

Alas, I wax on, but such is a boy

of rare grandeur and singular felicity.'



That boy was Michel. There were many reasons why I loved him
as I did. I smiled and tenderly placed my hand upon his slender
shoulder. He looked up at me, and smiled back.

"What's going through your mind?" I asked boldly.

"I want you inside me, even now," Michel giggled. "I'm sure
it's all I will ever want from now on."

"Perhaps we should lie down and do it on the sand?" I
suggested.

He laughed. "You would get grit inside my bum. Besides the
only lubricant you've got it spit and it would freeze before you
got it out. I would anything to have your cock within me."

"I think my blood is so cold that my stiffness will have the
quality of ice."

We both laughed.

"Did you see the Master's face when he came to wake us up?"
Michel asked gleefully despite the chill.

"You mean when he realized what we were doing?"

Michel nodded eagerly. "He went bright red. He was jealous
too, wasn't he?"

I nodded. "He would fuck you in an instant, Miel."

"Not just me, but Sandor and Kadri as well," Michel added.
"I would have liked to have seen that, wouldn't you?"

"The Master fucking your best friends? I didn't realize you
were a voyeur," I teased.

"I'm not," Michel snorted. "At least not any more than you
are, Master Aidan. The other boys all talk about how you watch
them in the night."

I scowled in pretended irritation and he grinned back up at
me. It was not uncommon for any of us upon the Mount, man as well
as boy, to be curious as to what was happening in adjacent
chambers. Boys quickly lost their inhibitions and did not stop
when they were watched. Often had I heard the patter of small
feet as the boys tiptoed around at night. A burst of giggles
usually meant that there was suddenly another boy lying in the
bed.

"It seems strange to call you Aidan," Michel said after a
while.

I nodded. "By taking vows you have acquired the right, so
you should do it, my darling boy."

"In some ways we are equals, but in other ways I'm still a
boy," Michel said thoughtfully. "I think I much prefer to be your
boy."

"You are, and always will be my boy," I replied. "That is
why I love you."

He nodded and did not pursue the issue further. He was not
morose, just serious, as he pondered his new position. I waited
for his next question. His feet were dragging in the sand, yet I
would not insult him by offering more than holding of my hand.

"Aidan,... If Sandor and Kadri are lovers,... and they
exchange vows like us,... what will happen to them when we
return?"

Suddenly, I realized what occupied his mind. The Master had
planted the seed and the cold and bitter wind had helped it grow.
However, instead of addressing the situation of imminent concern,
he had placed his friends in his position instead.

"As you know, they are both dry, like you are, Miel," I
began carefully, "so the rule will be followed for any union of
man and immature boy that desires perpetuity. To make a single
one, there is only one pair of eggs between the two."

"Is that why nothing happened to Etienne when you took his
as your mate?" Michel asked thoughtfully. "Because his eggs bore
seed?"

"Yes. Etienne was ripe," I acknowledged. It pained me to
think of him. How often had I taken his sweet fluid in my mouth?
I sighed sadly. "The rule of pairs applies only to immature boys,
like you."

"But why?"

"For several reasons." I drew my arms closer to my chest,
preferring to take the gust of wind like that. "With your
brother, our union was called a mating. For a boy like you, it's
referred to by a different word."

"Because I'm not a man?"

"Yes," I answered. "When our vows are witnessed, what we
will share is called a marriage."

"Like my father is married to my mother?" he queried
uncertainly.

I nodded and used my hand to brush crystal slivers of ice
from my head. Michel tramped on beside me, resolutely putting one
foot before the other. How he maintained each pace in the
bristling angry wind, I do not know. It seemed that a boy as
slender as Michel should be blown back further than he went
ahead. As bad as the wind was, what was worse were the low clouds
that swirled across the sands and without warning, enveloped us
in mist. Often, I could not see further than a hundred paces
ahead. Silently, I prayed that my sense of direction was up to
the task of finding the rocky promontory that the Master had said
was there.

"Because she is a woman, your mother and father share a pair
of eggs," I continued. "So it must be the same for us as well.
There is another reason for the rule. Because the passage of the
Orders is essential to the Mount, some rules have been created to
ensure that things happen as they should. The gelding of even a
single egg is seen as so great a penalty that few boys would
willing sacrifice that part of their anatomy unless the love was
real."

"But better to loose my eggs than my dick, I think," Michel
giggled. "I like it when you play with it."

"You say that now my boy, because there is so little to be
lost. An older boy, knowing what lies ahead, understands the full
nature of the sacrifice. As I explained last night, the exchange
of vows between man and boy is as serious a thing as we can ever
do. The price is very high."

"That is why I wanted to do it, to prove my love to you
boldly. So what happens?" Michel asked without hesitation. "How
is it done?"

"The gelding?"

"It's called 'gelding' just like my father's horses who
cannot be with mares?"

"Yes, among other things. Emasculation, unmanning,
castration, all mean the same thing. For man or boy, the end
result when both eggs are taken is known as a eunuch."

"How is it done, the gelding?" Michel asked pointedly.

"I've never seen it, Honey," I answered obliquely.

"Oh!"

"That doesn't mean that I have not heard stories, Miel," I
continued. "From what I've heard it's not that difficult to do.
There are some places where slave boys are gelded as a matter of
good taste and to keep them looking young. Because the flow of
seed is stopped, the slave cannot breed by intention or mistake."

"So tell me what you know," Michel persisted.

"For Kadri and Sandor, it is likely that each of them will
lose an egg, one taken from the right side and one from the left
side to make a complete pair. It's done upon the Altar while they
copulate. Someone, the Master I expect, will use a sickle to cut
through the skin."

"It must hurt terribly."

"Quite likely. At least I've heard that is the case. I've
only known it to happen to a man on the battlefield, and then
it's very bad."

He considered that while we continued plodding onward. "What
happens if a boy has one egg left?"

"With one egg, a boy's body functions almost normally," I
added. There will be some changes, but the boy will still become
a man. Without any eggs, it is a very different story."

"Tell me!" he demanded without hesitation.

"Some say that a eunuch has perpetual boyhood. Others say
that he is neither man or boy, and not a woman either, but a
cruel abberation that should not exist. For a boy like you, the
passage to manhood is interrupted. You would grow taller, but
your form would always stay slender like a branch."

Michel stumbled and would have fallen had I not managed to
grab his hand and keep him on his feet. He was close to
exhaustion and his teeth chattered uncontrollably. I tried to
warm his frigid body. I quickly glanced behind me and saw that
Kadri and Sandor were lagging and in no better condition. Unless
we reached the promontory shortly, we would never reach it at
all. Unnecessarily, I urged Michel to keep on walking.

"Kadri and Sandor don't have any other choice?" he asked
fearfully after another dozen paces.

"If they wish to join together and with no one else, until
they leave the Mount, it is the only choice."

"Oh!"

I patted his shoulder lovingly. "Don't fear, Miel. I will be
beside you when next you lie upon the Altar."



Fortunately, at the very moment that I began to think that
none of us would make it, the clouds lifted and I saw the faint
outline of a distant feature, of rocks and scraggly trees. I
grasped Michel's freezing hand and, reaching behind me took
Kadri's free hand, and dragged them forward, hurrying to get out
of the cold.

Disaster awaited us as we scrambled across the rocks and
among the trees. The transportation and lode of supplies promised
by the Master had been attacked by some wild animal, at first
glance by what appeared to be a bear. Strangely, there were no
paw prints. There was, or rather there had been a small
encampment, for it had been upended and torn apart. Of the four
horses and mule, only the mule was still alive. It remained still
attached to a cart, with huge wood-spoked wheels. The contents of
the cart had been methodically tossed aside, for there was order
to the chaos. Packages of food had been opened and their contents
spread across the muddy ground. Flagons had been uncorked and
placed so that the contents could drain completely out. Anything
of useful value had been broken or destroyed. Even the blankets
had been soaked by placing them in pools of water. The things
that were untouched were of an entirely different sort. Knives
and forks and cooking pots were neatly arranged upon a wooden
table as if laid to serve a dinner.

"What happened here?" Kadri asked sorrowfully.

"A bear, most likely," Sandor answered. "Nothing else could
tear a horse's neck like that."

"Or a dragon," Michel whispered. "You can smell its foul
odor on the breeze."

I inhaled and caught the slightest scent. However, once one
is aware of the smell, there is no mistaking the stench of
dragon. Michel shivered fearfully. He looked around guardedly.

"Not even a dragon can inflict damage like this," I
murmured. "I fear the hand of man has helped again."

While no boy asked what happened next, I set about an
inventory of what was useful and what was not. At the same time,
I examined the situation to determine what had transpired. All of
us would have liked nothing more than to wrap ourselves in
blankets and find solace with the flesh. However, survival was
more pressing than merely getting warm. Already the sky was
growing dark and I wanted to be gone a distance before we stopped
for the night.

Hurriedly, we sorted through the damaged goods. Most of the
food was spoiled. We salvaged a handful of oatmeal biscuits, some
thin slices of salt-dried pork, a pewter tin of lard. The latter
could be put to good use for several days, but after what they
had been through since leaving the Mount, the rest would not feed
the boys enough to take the edge from their hunger. The dozen
blankets were wrung in twisted coils to squeeze out as much water
as possible. There seemed little point in taking the bloddied
saddles, for without horses they had no useful purpose except to
trade for food when we reached a farm.

"Master Aidan? Come see this," Kadri called.

I went over to where he was standing beside the decrepid
wagon. He pointed to a piece of vivid purple cloth that extended
beyond the straw. I held my finger to my lips to indicate the
need for silence. He gestured that he understood, then silently
he eased his short sword out of the scabbard that hung down his
bare smooth thigh. I nodded.

Under other circumstances, I would have taken the initiative
myself. However, the sooner the boys were blooded to the harsh
reality of battle, the safer they would be. Cautiously, Kadri
prodded the blade into the straw. I noticed that he was very
careful not to stab too hard, yet his hand was clenched tightly
on the hand-grip so that if he needed, he could drive the blade
in deeper in an instant. After a few probes, the straw was
suddenly disturbed and a small, bedraggled creature scrambled
out. A gypsy dwarf.

His hair was orange, long and shaggy and the wispy strands
hung well below his shoulders. His clothes, while flecked with
pieces of straw, were quite unusual. His purple-velvet trousers
were widely flared, his jacket was of chamois with ermine trim
around the neck, a shirt of saffron, his boots of a type from
southern climates with laced straps from ankle to knee.

"You stabbed me!" he shrieked loudly.

"I didn't mean to," Kadri replied apologetically.

"Who are you?" I demanded.

"I might ask the same of you!" he growled.

Kadri tensed and lifted his blade so that it pointed at the
thick short chest. "Master Aidan asked you a question."

"What if I don't answer," the dwarf rebuked angrily.

He folded his squat arms and glared at Kadri before he
laughed hysterically. The boy did not flinch. I was pleased to
see that Michel and Sandor had approached the dwarf from behind
and had taken up positions out of sight behind the cart.

"You're a virgin from the Mount?"

"I'm not," Kadri replied defensively. "My rose was ringed a
month ago."

"A month of training? Ha! That's all you've got? They send a
master and a pretty Favonius with an unfaded flower?"

Sandor suddenly stepped from his concealment, his sword
uplifted and ready to attack.

"Oh, I'm scared," the dwarf said jovially. "There's two of
them. A matched pair. A newly pricked-rose and a Vulturnus brat
who between them couldn't fight a gnat?"

"Careful dwarf," Sandor warned. His hair bristled. "Don't
test my mettle."

"Or what? You'll hit me with a kettle?" he chortled. "At
least they should have sent a brace of older boys. If nothing
else, they'd have something between their legs to prove that they
were male. Do either of you a have a prick that's bigger than my
little finger?"

He held up his hand, closing three fingers to his palm
butwith his thumb and little finger extended rudely. Sandor
blushed as well as Kadri, for neither boy was so well endowed
that the question of size could be avoided without embarrassment
before such a crude and vulgar person.

"Trust me on that issue, dwarf," I intervened. "These boys
have pricks that are big enough to keep this master happy." I
stepped forward a pace or two until I was beside Kadri. "What
happened here?"

The dwarf ignored my question. His gaze fell upon Kadri and
his lips parted in a smirk. He was sizing the boy up, preparing
to attack. I considered alerting Kadri. Before I could do so, the
dwarf jumped back. He spun, darted across the cart and
somersaulted onto the ground. He moved so swiftly that he surely
would have escaped, but he ran into Michel who leaped upon him
with a shriek. While Michel was anything but heavy, his speed was
such that when compounded with surprise, drove the dwarf's head
into the muddy ground. Michel jumped upon the tiny back and wrestled
him down.

"Get him off me," he screamed as he struggled to break free. "The
brat is trying to fuck my arse."

Michel hung on gamely, as I expected that he would. The
dwarf kicked and punched with all his might, aiming blows at
Michel's tender places only to strike the metal shields. His
tactics changed and he rained blows upon Michel's back and head.
Few of his punches reached their target for Michel took
aggressive action to deflect him. While even shorter than Michel,
the dwarf was stocky and full grown. He had the power of a man,
albeit in compact form. I feared the outcome. Suddenly, a single
blow struck Michel, for the boy lunged back and gasped for air.
There was a stiletto hidden beneath the dwarf's vest and he drew
it out before Michel could get up from the ground.

I stepped forward instantly and placed the heel of my foot
upon the dwarf's other hand.

"No so fast, little man," I snarled. "I have not come this
far to see him die."

"Let me go!"

"Answer me! What happened here?" I demanded.

"I did not see it!" he exclaimed.

"You expect me to believe that. Where were you?"

He regarded me with a cold stare. One thing was evident. He
had not hidden in the cart for the dragon and his assistant had
been careful to empty it of anything of value.

"Not here! I just arrived."

"Ha, another lie!"

"Perhaps you brought the dragon here," he countered slyly.

"Perhaps I should slit your throat and leave you for the
rats. I've heard the rats around the shore are as big as mastiff
dogs, and just as mean. What is your name, so that we might carve
it on the stone that marks your grave?"

There were times when a realistic fiction worked as well as
fact. He shuddered and glared at the three boys who blocked his
escape from every side.

"Riall de Petitjoi!"

"Well, Riall, this can be easy or it can be hard. We have a
task to complete, these boys and I."

"There is nothing left for you here. You might as well be on
your way," he said to me without respect.

"There was supposed to be a purse of gold?" I queried,
although at that moment, a trunk of gold had no value.

"Gold? I saw none of that."

"Then some more food perhaps?" I suggested slyly.

The dwarf was taken aback. By nature, he was greedy. "What
food I have is mine. I brought with me. None of it is yours."

I nodded, pretending to understand. Unable to contain his
delight, he grinned. With the mood that I was in, it was all that
was required. Still, I persisted in the game.

"But Riall, I have three hungry boys to feed. They have
already traveled far, and in conditions that have sapped the
strength from their bodies. They need to eat before they sleep."

"Then get if off the ground," he said jauntily. "They're
faggot-boys. They're even worse than dogs."

Sandor, whose temper was usually much shorter than the other
boys, growled and balanced on his toes. He looked as if he was
ready to leap upon the dwarf and relieve his hunger.

"What say we come to some sort of deal, Riall?" I suggested.
"You take the purse of gold in trade for the mule and cart."

"What gold?"

I laughed. "Your miserable cart's not worth even a single
coin, but let's not squabble. You can take it all."

"There is no gold!" he lied without a pause.

I gestured to Sandor, who upon cue, appeared quite
terrifying as he snarled and narrowed his eyes.

"My Vulturnus boy will have the greatest pleasure in tearing
out your tongue. That is after he lops your cock and feeds it to
his friends. Perhaps he'll save your eggs for me," I added with a
lick of my lips.

"I'm not afraid of him. He's like the other. He's just been
pricked as well," Riall retorted before he spit upon the ground.

"I agree he's young, but he's ready to be blooded. All three
are ready despite what you might think," I returned seriously.
"Whether it is your blood or another's is entirely up to you."

"I agree," he submitted quickly. "The cart and mule are
yours."

"That's better. Now, as to the matter of some food. I expect
that all you have will be shared among us four."

"I need to eat as well," Riall complained. "I have a long
way to return from this confounded trip."

"I'm prepared to treat you as an equal," I offered
gratuitiously. "Half for us and half for you."

"You'll have to find it first. It's hidden so well that
you'll be dead from hunger first. What will you give me if I
share?"

"What do you want?" I countered.

"Him!" Riall pointed at Kadri. "I want to suck his boyish
prick."

I laughed. I turned. "Kadri?" I asked. "It's up to you.
Since he's a gypsy, he's probably telling the truth about hiding
the food. Either you do what he wants and let him suck you once,
or we all go hungry until morning. We should reach a farmhouse
before we die."

Kadri giggled. He was nearly two heads higher than the man
before him, and of the three boys, Kadri was the shortest. He
cast his eyes contemptuously over the dwarf, taking in the mane
of orange hair, the brightly colored clothes. From one
perspective, the dwarf appeared like a short fat child with a lot
of hair. From Kadri's expression, he did not relish being
ravished by the dwarf.

"What do you think, Sandor? Should I let the little man suck
my dick?" Kadri asked. Just at that moment, his stomach chose to
rumble.

Sandor smirked at Kadri's discomfiture. All the boys were
starving hungry. What would they do to secure a share of food?

"It's just a suck, Kadri. How bad can it be? Besides, how
many boys on the Mount can claim to have been in such an ugly
mouth? It would be different if he asked to fuck."

Michel giggled. I very nearly laughed. Kadri grimaced and
took a step backwards. Riall's eyes grew brighter with
excitement. I watched him carefully, fascinated by the thought
that had suddenly sprung into my head.

"A single suck on Kadri's dick for half your food," Michel
clarified. "That is the deal."

He was learning very quickly and I smiled with admiration.
Not only had he shown initiative, but he had quickly grasped my
plan.

"A deal," Riall repeated. "I agree! A suck for half my
food."

Uncertainly, Kadri unbuckled the straps that held his groin
shield and exposed his boy parts. He passed the small piece of
metal to Sandor to hold. He spaced his feet apart a shoulder's
width, at rest. If he had to do this to eat, it did not mean that
he had to enjoy it. He would tolerate the dwarf's oral
copulation, giving nothing more than that.

Riall licked his lips hungrily, salivating like a vicious
dog. Drool ran down his chin. He stepped closer, his glistening
eyes fixed on Kadri's middle. Kadri's skin was creamy, but with
the cold and wind it had turned quite white, ethereal in the
fading light.

There was a prominent, man-sized bulge in the dwarf's loose
trousers. It looked oddly out place, like a giant-sized
protrusion on a child. Before Kadri, the dwarf would not need to
kneel, but he lowered his head. His tongue stuck out, dripping
down.

"What's the matter, little flower? Are you afraid I'll give
your tiny prick more pleasure than your master?" he taunted.

Kadri nearly backed away. However, he held his breath and
stood his ground, closing his ears to the jibes and jeers.

"I've heard that the men upon the Mount are only good for
fucking. That the boys up there have to suck each other. That
Favonius boys love having their pricks suckled most of all."

Kadri tensed but did not answer. The reason why boys took
each other in their mouths was to preserve the sensitivity of
their nether portals for even greater pleasure. Kadri closed his
eyes. He shuddered when he felt the slimy tongue slobber on his
lower belly. It swirled around his sex, lapping across his thighs
before settling on the object of Riall's lust.

His lips had barely sealed and his cheeks pulled in to make
a vacuum before I called, "Enough!"

"I've barely started on the brat," Riall complained. "At
least you have to let me get his pricklet stiff?"

"You're finished!" I ordered. "You've sucked him once. That
was the deal. You did not say to orgasm! That pleasure isn't
yours, at least not on this miserable night."

"Damn!" Riall cursed.

Had Kadri been alone, the dwarf would have taken what he
thought was his, and more besides if he had been able to subdue
the boy. However, he was greatly outnumbered. Scowling angrily,
he strode into the bushes to recover the food he had concealed.
He was closely followed by Sandor and Michel. They had their
swords drawn from their scabbards, taking no chances of being led
into a trap. As soon as they were out of hearing, Kadri smirked
at me.

"How was it?" I teased. "Was he better than me?"

Kadri shook his head. "It felt like a cold wet sponge and
his teeth were yellow. He didn't know what to do. He suckled like
a pig."

"Well, I thank you," I said heartily. "I'm sure Sandor and
Michel will thank you in their own way later on tonight."