Elf-Boy and Friends

Elf Boy and Friends

Part 6 of 10

by George Gauthier

Chapter 25. Journeymen Druids

"Ah, there you are. I was wondering where you had gotten to." Owain remarked as he approached Dahl and Xebrek who were sitting in a gazebo, its airy structure overgrown with vines bearing the blue and pink blossoms of the morning glory. Not intended for outdoor dining, the gazebo was a place for conversation and relaxation out of the sun and in the breeze. The chair occupied by the stocky dwarf had its legs cut down to accommodate his proportions. Though much the same height as the dwarf, the elf-boy managed with a regular chair, thanks to proportionally longer legs.

"Why didn't you ask your bird friends to look for us?" Xebrek asked.

"As a matter of fact, that is just what I did. What is the point of druidic powers if not to make things easier for oneself?"

As a senior druid Owain was the mentor of the two journeymen druids. A diminutive strawberry blond human with sky blue eyes, he looked like a cute teenager though he was nearly two centuries old. He was dressed in the green tunic of his order.

Owain noted that the dwarf Xebrek still wore leather trews though without the usual matching vest. The elf-boy, as was his wont, was entirely naked. Indeed, as a juvenile elf he had never worn clothing, not even the briefest of loincloths, though that was about to change, very likely much to his annoyance. Level headed though he was generally, Dahl was vain about showing off the trim taut body he had so recently grown into. Nor was he bashful about displaying the manly parts from which he derived such exquisite pleasure. An exhibitionist then, if the truth were known, but then he had a lot to exhibit, though his petite physique was more about quality than about quantity.

Though they were about the same height, the dwarf carried three time the mass of the slender elf-boy on his massive big-boned frame. Strong-featured was the kindest way one could describe the squat dwarf, though a keen intelligence shone from under that beetled brow. He had a wry sense of humor, and when he smiled, his whole face lit up, belying the gruff exterior.

As for the elf-boy, lithe, preternaturally beautiful, gracile, and comely were words that hardly did justice to the raven-haired elven beauty. With his delicate features, chiseled jawline, and killer cheekbones shielding lovely green eyes, his was the sort of youthful male beauty that would take your breath away, or would make even the most committed celibate cenobite reconsider his commitment to his vocation.

Or inspire jealousy among the pleasure boys on the staff of the most exclusive boy brothel in the richest city in the world. Indeed Dahl had financed his long journey across the continent partly by selling his charms. But he had nothing of the hardened rent boy about him. Blessed with the youthful longevity of the elves, he was as sweet and innocent as the fawn he so very much resembled.

"Dahlderon, Xebrek. As newly promoted journeymen druids, you will be expected to uphold the dignity of the Druidic Order. For you Dahl, I am afraid that means wearing clothing on formal occasions. I realize that juvenile elves remain nude for their first century, at which point they may take to wearing a loincloth, though many chose not to. At your young age, you're only eighteen, the touch of clothing might feel bizarre. Up to this time, perpetual nudity has not been a problem. You could prance around in the nude anywhere -- even in large cities -- without raising an eyebrow. Public nudity is common for boys your age Nevertheless, sometimes we druids need clothing to maintain the dignity and decorum of the order."

"I am sure you understand. It might help to think of it this way. Your elevation to journeyman status marks the the end of your period of training and maturation not only as an apprentice, but also as an elf, as a transition from boy to adult. Officially you are a man from this day forward, though you still look like a lad no more than sixteen, if that much. Being nude as well would give others the wrong first impression. No one listens to someone they perceive as a bare-assed half-grown kid. Believe me I know this from experience."

"Now you have some choice as to what to wear. I strongly recommend that you wear a sarong, or take one along on your journeys. You will find it to be the garment that flatters you best, clinging to your slender physique. In the back it outlines that pert rump of yours, in front, down there, it is loose enough to allow for the swing of your manly parts while preserving some modicum of modesty.

Moreover, a sarong is light weight, flexible, folds into a tiny packet, feels smooth next to the skin, comes in a variety of colors, and has a dozen other uses besides."

"Other uses? Like what?"

"A sarong can serve as a wrap for the body, a groundsheet, a canopy, a signal flag, a towel, a privacy curtain, an improvised back pack or stretcher, and even as a weapon."

"A weapon? How?"

"In a fight, use it to create a distraction. Whip it off your hips and throw it over your opponent's head. Then move in for the kill while he is disentangling himself. Or run away, if that is the better move.

"One more thing. Silk is a surprisingly good defense against arrows. Arrowheads will not penetrate silk, which just wraps around as the arrow pushes into the flesh, making it easier to draw out even if barbed. So if you must take an arrow, take it in your rump, not in your chest. Also a freely hanging sheet of silk is an effective shield against arrows. The arrow loses its momentum as soon as it hits the silk then slips and slides along as it pushes the fabric out of its way. Hard to believe but true."

"I'll do that, sir. Choose the sarong, that is."

"Fine. Plus for tactical use you should also take along the camouflage cloak you yourself charmed as a final test for your promotion to journeyman."

"Now you Xebrek, I suppose you would look best in a druidic version of your traditional trews and vest -- only green instead of that dun color you are wearing. Your maul will be your emblem of office. Our tailors can provide you with a finely-tooled black leather belt with a silver buckle and a holster for your maul to keep it handy. For you Dahl, your quarterstaff will be your emblem of your office, your credentials so to speak. If anyone doubts that a mere slip of a lad like you is really a druid, plant the end of your staff in the ground and make it sprout greenery in his face."

"How do I use my maul for that same purpose?" Xebrek asked, brow furrowed. The senior druid smiled and replied.

"You dwarves are well-known for taking the direct approach. Anyone gives you a hard time, just thump his skull with your maul. That will establish your bona fides."

They all chuckled. Later on, talking with his dwarf friend, Dahl sighed:

"Finally we are journeymen. Quite an accomplishment since neither of us is really a man, strictly speaking."

"Aye, an elf-boy and a forty-one year old Stone Mountain dwarf. We make quite a pair, don't we, Dahl?"

"What say ye we adjourn to the tavern for some celebratory refreshment."

<That includes you, Merry. We'll take an outdoor table.>

<Equines do not imbibe alcohol, as you know very well, my young friend.>

<True, but I can ask the stable hands to bring over a half-bucket of that sugar beet mash you like so much.>

"Merry has a sweet tooth," the elf-boy explained needlessly.

"Sounds like a plan." Xebrek agreed.

So off they went to carry it out. After his second tankard of ale, Xebrek leaned back in his chair and belched contentedly.

"The thing I love about this place is that they never charge me for anything. Everything is on the house." he added expansively.

"Actually you do pay for it. The cost of whatever we consume is notationally deducted from our bank accounts."

"We have bank accounts?"

"Indeed, clerks credit our accounts with our monthly stipends or deduct for purchases. Didn't you read about all this in the recruit's handbook?"

"I skimmed it, that's all. Lot of boring stuff about organization and rules and official policies. I must have missed that part. So you're saying that they deposit money into notional bank accounts and then take the money out again. And we never see so much as a copper."

Dahl sighed. "All transactions are merely annotations on paper."

"A great system. I love it." the dwarf said sarcastically. "Er, Dahl. I don't want to come across as the mercenary of our little group, but what if we really do need some walking around money, the kind you clink together, like when we travel?"

Dahl rolled his eyes.

"I am sure they will let you withdraw gold or silver coin as needed anywhere we travel, armed with a letter of credit."

That answer seemed to satisfy the dwarf.

A formal ceremony and celebration for all recruits who had progressed to journeymen level followed a few days later. It also marked the end of their first year as druids. As yet four recruits were still at the apprentice level, though giving every indication of imminent advancement to the next level.

Afterwards the newly minted journeymen would be assigned an important task, a mission that the senior druids simply had not been able to turn their attention to for lack of numbers. Successful completion of three such missions would advance the journeymen to the status of senior druid.

The Druidic Council always sent their journeymen out in pairs for their first test. Each team would travel with a unicorn or a wizard seconded from the Commonwealth along in support. For the mission Dahl and Xebrek were going on, the magical equine was not to take the lead or even volunteer much information, though he would answer questions. The boys might make mistakes, but they would be their own mistakes, from which they would learn. Merry would step in only if absolutely necessary. So when the three friends met at the tavern, their conversation naturally centered on speculation about their first mission.

"We are sending you to Stone Mountain." Owain revealed the next day. "Trouble is brewing, a race war. The last thing we need is a racial war breaking out, but that is what the Dark Prophet is stirring up. Your job is to maintain the peace between the races. Now across the continent, the races usually get on well. If there is a flash point it will be at Stone Mountain where dwarves and the misguided humans jealous of them dwell in close proximity.

Xebrek, you will be in charge of dealings with your own people but, Dahl is in charge of the mission to demonstrate even-handedness. There are also small communities of elves and a few giants thereabouts, but those you can ignore."

"We are not diplomats." Dahl pointed out. "What can we say that will convince them to keep the peace?"

"That is precisely what we are sending you two to find out. If we already knew, we would tell you and them. Find some way to harmonize their interests. Show them that they would be better off working together to build a peaceful future than by taking up arms against one another."

"A mighty tall order. I am not sure how tractable my own people will be." Xebrek said.

"Then knock a few heads together till they are!" the druid replied testily.

Shaking his head, Owain apologized. "Sorry for my outburst just now. If you only knew the strain we are all under, building the barrier. Oops, forget I said that. Anyway, the seven full druids on this continent face so many challenges. When we aren't training you, we are running hither and yon putting out fires. Which is part of the Dark Prophet's strategy, I suppose, to exhaust us, maybe even catch one of us out. Alone, even a powerful druid might be overwhelmed."

For a moment, the optimistic mask the pretty blond magic wielder usually presented to the world slipped, and the duo saw how weary he was in body and in spirit. Owain struggled visibly to regain his equanimity.

"We won't let you down, sir."

"I know you will do your utmost. I have trained you the best I know how. And you two are the most level-headed duo we could have sent, regardless of Xebrek's race. We are counting on you to succeed and on you Merry to bring you back alive."

<Will do, Owain.>

Dahl spent that last night with Owain, making sweet gentle love and easing his worries. Who knew when or if they would next see each other? The older druid had challenges of his own to face, ones he could only hope he was up to. Or he might leave his sexy little body rotting on some forsaken field. What a loss that would be for their threatened planet and to Dahl personally.

That night was not their usual boisterous coupling, but it was the most emotionally satisfying tryst ever during their entire relationship. There was more stroking and petting and kissing and less acrobatics and acoustics. They slept spooned together and woke up the next day refreshed and wholly committed to the struggle against the darkness.

Chapter 26. Journey to Stone Mountain

The first stage of their long journey to the far side of the continent wasn't difficult. The young druids had both trained to ride and had become reasonably good at it. The druids made good time atop a pair of tractable bay mares on the same road Dahl had traveled more than a year earlier. Merry kept up easily. This time, they stopped at the inns which had reopened since raiding had ended after the defeat of the barbarians at the Battle of the Great Entrapment.

As they approached the town of Dalnot, the chief army base on the plains, Dahl reviewed their prospects. At the very least, he hoped to recruit the human twins Jemsen and Karel, with whom he had shared many adventures. Maybe this new kid, Ran as well, an elf-boy who could handle himself, he had been told. As the home base for the army's civilian scouts, Dalnot was the place to look for them.

Also on the agenda was a detour to Elysion though really just to visit friends. There wasn't much chance that Aodh would abandon Klarendes and go haring off to parts unknown. And Klarendes' responsibilities would keep him at home, or at least close by Elysion. No hope for Balan either. No one but Merry could reach him with mind speech, and either Balan wasn't telling or Merry wasn't saying. Maybe both. Besides, stout-hearted Balandur was too much the take-charge type to follow the elf-boy's lead. The two journeymen druids had to meet this challenge themselves.

After taking rooms in Dalnot, Dahl left Xebrek with Merry and his equipment and went over to the barracks where the scouts stayed when in town. There he came upon a pretty little elf-boy at work sharpening three kukris, working with two small blades rather than whetstone and strop to hone them sharp enough to shave with. Unselfconsciously nude like all young elves, he was like no elf-boy Dahl had ever seen, with his dark blond hair and sky blue eyes.

"You must be Ran." Dahl ventured.

The youth so addressed stopped what he was doing and smiled.

"Oh. What makes you think so?"

"Well for one thing, there are not many blond elf-boys on the whole planet. And these are the barracks assigned to Jemsen and Karel. I just put two and two together. Let me introduce myself. I'm... "

"Wait! Don't tell me. It so happens that I am pretty good at putting two and two together myself. Hmm, I see before me a raven haired elf-boy, impossibly pretty, a veritable vision of youthful male pulchritude, nearly a match for myself in comeliness, if that were possible, who is just my height, knows my name, and has come to these very barracks. That would make you the twins' good friend Dahlderon, the apprentice druid."

"Right the first time, though I am now a journeyman druid. Listen Ran, are the twins around?" hurriedly adding:

"They are not away on some mission, are they? I mean, if they are, maybe I could talk with, er... " pulling out a scrap of paper, he glanced at it and continued, "Sergeant Borden or Chief of Scouts, Wroclaw, is it?" pronouncing the name phonetically, provoking a wince from the blond elf-boy.

"Actually it's pronounced Vrot-swaf."

"Eh?"

"Oh, he's not here either, the young minstrel, I mean." Ran quipped, playing on the pronunciation of the wir boy's name which was pronounced just that way.

"Right again!" Dahl chuckled, taking an instant liking to his interlocutor and his verbal games.

"Anyway, you can relax. The twins are around. They went for a run and a swim while I was working on our gear. Have to keep these blades sharp. You never know when we might be called out. Actually Jemsen and Karel should be back anytime now. Hey look, here they come now."

And indeed, seeing Dahl the twins hurried their pace, their naked bodies glistening in the sunlight, sun bronzed skins still moist from their swim. They were of medium height, lithe and boyishly handsome. With their slight builds, slender physiques, and delicate fine-boned features, the twins might have been taken for elves themselves. They certainly had the cheekbones for it if not the pointed ears. At nineteen they were less than a year older than Dahl and were very blond. While Ran's shade was dark blond, the twins had hair so light it was nearly white. Some called the color cornsilk.

The twins' greeting was as warm as Dahl hoped it would be. Time and distance had not loosened the bond of affection forged in adversity and based on mutual respect, shared experience, and the strong romantic feelings they all had for one another.

"But Dahl, you wrote that you were now a journeyman druid. Yet here you are, still in the rude nude, just like us nobodies. Shouldn't you be wearing a full-length robe with a pointy hat and brandishing an ebony staff topped with a ruby the size of goose egg so you can call lightnings down from the sky?"

"Very funny. That is the stereotype for war wizards, but from what Balan has told Merry who told me, war wizards really dress inconspicuously in plain soldier's garb and without insignia. They don't want to make themselves a target for arrows or enemy wizards. And they use no staff or magic wand or any instrument other than their hands. Anyway their gestures are just for dramatic effect. Now what you have called the rude nude, we of the, ahem, Exalted Order of the Druids of Haven, call Druidic Undress Uniform... pun intended."

Ran chuckled then said. "He's a druid all right. It's in his voice. You can actually hear him pronounce those capital letters."

Dahl explained the mission he was on. Before he could even ask, Jemsen forestalled him saying.

"Did you really think we were likely to say no? Of course we are in. Sounds like fun. Frankly things have been pretty tame around here lately. Oh, the scouts are a great bunch of guys, but continual arms practice, drills, patrols, and maneuvers gets old fast. The kite flying is a hell of a lot of fun, no doubt about it. I will miss it. But we are ready for a change. No one is going to attack, not here, not now, not any time soon. The plains are safe for the next few years, at least. And our Adversary's next blow will fall somewhere else."

"Count me in too." Ran piped up. "That is, if you'll have me?" the second part delivered in an anxious tone.

"An impertinent little scamp, our Ran is, but he grows on you. Handy too in a fight with hands and feet or knife or sling. He tutored us in the finer points of the blade."

"One thing though, and this might be a deal breaker," Karel added, eyes twinkling mischievously. "He likes pretty boys alright, but he has a secret vice. He fancies girls. Human girls."

"No!" Dahl exclaimed in mock horror.

That lead to explanations and much merriment, which broke the ice between them. In the end, Dahl simply said:

"Welcome aboard, Ran."

Dahl and his party spent a couple of days in Dalnot, resting up and giving the twins a chance to wind up their affairs and say their goodbyes, especially to Sergeant Borden and Chief Wroclaw. They resigned from the scouts, got a letter of credit for the savings kept for them at the quartermaster bank, and equipped themselves with a goodly supply of arrows and other gear. After quitting the scouts Ran went shopping for such gear as a burning glass, portable solar stove, and a short handled shovel for entrenching or digging holes in the ground for sanitary purposes, items he usually borrowed from the regimental supply train.

"As of today," Dahl explained, "all three of you are on the Druids' payroll. Now the disbursement officer won't chase you down every month to put silvers into your hands. Instead, your stipend is credited to your account and is held there for you."

"Minus deductions, of course." Xebrek grumbled. "No interest either."

"Oh?" Jemsen asked.

"It's all there in the handbook." the dwarf assured him, with an airy wave of his hand, which drew a snort from Dahl.

At night Dahl paired off with the twins, one at a time and had a lot of fun getting reacquainted with their boisterous style of lovemaking. Sexually ambidextrous, the twins could top as well as bottom especially when paired with a boy as bottomless as Dahl. As males, the twins liked to sink their turgid cocks into a firm round butt, to feel their members grasped and milked and massaged by the moist velvet glove of their partner's innards, to follow the instinctive drive of the male to penetrate, to thrust, and to ejaculate. And Dahl was the best ride they had ever mounted or were likely to.

The two elf-boys Dahl and Ran also joined forces, as it were, with equally joyous results. Dahl liked sex with pretty boys like himself just as much as with strong masterly types like Balan or Merry. Both types of lovers excited him, though in different ways. Sex with another boy was a delight. He felt energized as they jumped into bed and wrestled around in a contest of equals. He loved to hold on to the sweaty squirming tight little body of a youth much like himself. If he himself had the advantage and came out on top, all well and good. If the tables were turned and he found himself on the bottom, playing the submissive partner, why that was fun too.

Besides, sex with another elf-boy had a special attraction. There was never any body odor, meaning that sour smell of sweat gone rancid. Elves simply lacked the kind of sweat glands that exuded the sebaceous oils that could, in time, ripen into a less than pleasant odor. The sweat glands of elves produced only salty water, to help cool their bodies. Put simply, elf-boys smelled and tasted ever so sweet. Their skin might be salty from sweat but never with that off scent. What you got was just the smell of clean healthy boy.

By contrast, sex with a masterly sort like Balan was a craving, a need to be dominated and mastered. Dahl got all weak-kneed and submissive, ready to drop to his knees and worship, to take the largest cocks that would fit into his tiny elf-boy body and let them drive in and out, hitting his joy spot, till he climaxed explosively.

To Ran's intense disappointment, Merry turned him down flat. One elf-boy at a time was quite enough for him to handle, thank you. Ran had been hoping to try something new. And a unicorn was certainly that.

Then it was on to Elysion and a warm reunion with Aodh and Klarendes. After greetings in the main hall Count Klarendes led his guests to the best room in the manor, the west parlor. Merry stationed himself outside by a window giving on that room. Since it was only mid-afternoon the count called for ale and light refreshments to tide the travelers over till the evening meal.

Looking around him, he shook his head in wonder at all the lovely youth gathered on that one spot. Setting Xebrek aside, a dwarf no one would ever call comely and looking all of his forty-one years, the other five youths were as lovely as a day in spring. Each was the epitome of his type.

Taking the non-humans first, Dahl, the elf-boy cum journeyman druid was the raven maned filly of the bunch and preternaturally lovely. Standing barely an inch over five feet, he was blessed with a beautiful body. Slender yet muscular, he had strong shoulders, a ripped torso, flat belly and narrow hips. He had one of those impossibly small waists you could almost put your hands around and a pert rump, with small but firm and shapely buns. Tanned, taut and toned, thanks to druidic magic, his strength was nearly triple what his size might indicate.

Next was Aodh, Klarendes' own lover and the second miracle of his life, after his late wife, Belinda. Impossibly cute, a sloe-eyed beauty with delicate features and blessed with the sleek and smooth physique of a dancer, the minstrel cum wir-panther was the playful kitten of the bunch and the only left hander. Aodh looked very young, like a barely legal street urchin, maybe fifteen or sixteen, an epicene gamin, short and skinny, standing about an inch below Dahl's height, so five foot even and weighed 102 pounds (45 kg). His petite physique was a visual delight and exciting to wrestle with. Taut skin covered a hard body though the boy's musculature was smooth rather than defined like Dahl's. His physique featured narrow shoulders, a slender torso, and sharp bladed hip bones.

The runner for the scouts, the elf/human hybrid Ran, was as diminutive as the other two. He was another little guy, smoothly muscled, with an epicene look about him. Ran stood no taller than Aodh and though short and slight of build like his fellow elf had a stronger upper storey. He resembled Dahl with the same pointed ears and glabrous skin, though Ran was darkly blond and had blue eyes. Visibly excited, fidgeting, and finding it hard to sit still, Ran was the eager puppy of the lot.

Finally there were the rangy scouts. Identical twins of middle height and with a well-defined musculature, they were hunters, archers, and trackers. Lithe and boyishly handsome and very blond, utterly alluring with their slight builds and slender physiques and youthful features, the twins might be taken for elves themselves. Incessant chatterboxes with an insatiable curiosity, they were a pair of palomino colts, boisterous and rambunctious, exuding good health and sex appeal.

None of them had any body hair, something Klarendes had always found rather off-putting in a boy. Their bodies look so much better that way: clean and smooth and wholly glabrous, without a single feather anywhere. On them their delightful cocks sprang directly from their bodies rather than from an unkempt tangle at the fork of the legs. The tactile sensation of petting their glabrous boyish bodies was so much better without coarse fibers sprouting here and there. Klarendes would concede that a light dusting of very fine hair on a the lower limbs of a youth could be attractive too. If the boy were blond and his skin turned tawny by the sun, the fine hairs were like spun gold set against bronze.

What a shame the twins' heritage was fully human. That meant a prospective lifespan of perhaps 80 or 90 years. Even shorter would be the bloom of their youth. Oh the twins might look young or at least youthful into their thirties. Right now that seemed like ages to boys on the verge of becoming men. But the years would pass quickly enough, and they would age like other humans. In five or six decades, if they were lucky, Karel and Jemsen would turn into gray-haired feeble old men. What a shame, the loss of such beauty and vitality.

All his other guests were long lived. Dahl and Ran were elves, who never aged so you could see it beyond their teens and might live five or six hundred years. His lover Aodh was a shapeshifter whose animal form was a black panther. Every time Aodh used his innate magic to transform, he not only cured any wounds or injuries, he returned his body to its youth, fixing his mind on a mental template that specified his physical state and health. That made his lifespan indefinite, though he could be slain. In other words, Aodh might be immortal but he was not invulnerable. With any luck, the young wir would spend untold centuries looking exactly as he did now, an epicene gamin in his mid-teens.

Klarendes had considerable elf-blood himself, enough to arrest his aging, though at a later point in life. Though he was in his mid-thirties, he looked like he was in his mid-twenties, and would stay that way for four hundred years at least.

The worst is that his longer lived friends did not appreciate how their longevity would inevitably separate them from the friends of their youth. Right now they not only looked young they genuinely were young, teenagers enjoying their true youth. The boys did not have the perspective of centuries of life. As their friends like the twins grew older and eventually succumbed to mortality, the elves and shapeshifter would and left them behind, still youthful, hale, and hearty. Would they dare make new friends among normal humans, unable to bear the prospect of loss time and time again?

In his military career the count had seen that combat veterans, after being blooded in battle, would almost never befriend new recruits assigned to their units as replacements. It just hurt too much to get to know someone, to like him, to respect him, and then to suddenly lose him, to see him trampled or cut down and turned into a smashed and bloody corpse.

Dahl took the floor and explained his mission, assuring the count and the elf-boy that he had not come to recruit them. Dahl was on a qualifying journey for the druids which was as much a test of himself and Xebrek as it was an actual mission. Too much extra help would invalidate the results.

Meanwhile the nobleman and his boyfriend spoke of their busy lives in the valley. The invasion alert had been relaxed, and the militia gone back to a normal level of preparedness, resuming their old training schedule. The only sour note was the continuing infiltration of dangerous critters like dire wolves and slash bears, which were huge beasts so named for their tactic of attacking with their claws. Perhaps they were clever enough to realize that trying to bite a foe made eyes vulnerable to their prey.

No one knew the reason for the sudden influx of predators, but the count suspected the machinations of the adversary. Klarendes was breeding mastiffs to meet the challenge, hoping to double his pack to ten before the year was out. Just as important was the time to train them to be loyal and gentle with humans but fierce with their prey. The count was planning a sweep of the border range with the Commonwealth's constabulary, though it couldn't get properly started till both sides had augmented their canine auxiliaries.

"Even after we put them down, I have a feeling others will replace them in an endless cycle. It is as if some force were pushing these beasts out of the wilderness, where they really do little harm, to wreak havoc on the settled lands."

The evening meal was something more than the simple supper country folk usually set out. Hot soup and a salad supplemented the usual cold meats and cheese and bread. It was the next midday meal that served as their welcoming feast, which gave the cooks time to do things right. Since this was something of a formal occasion, the twins were in their silks, Aodh and Dahl in green sarongs, and Xebrek in his green leathers.

After the meal, while sipping a digestif on the veranda, the count explained his latest project: a cadastral survey of all the property in the settlement. Surveyed property lines would replace the older system of metes and bounds. A professional survey team was already at work with their tapes and chains, levels and theodolites, and such.

Aodh was helping with the back end of the job, translating the surveyors' observations into calculated positions on a property map. This required intricate and painstaking mathematics, using tables of values developed by the Commonwealth's natural philosophers that let one use simple addition and subtraction instead of error-prone multiplication and division to manipulate the tiny fractional values. [i.e. logarithms applied to trigonometric functions]

Aodh had simplified the surveyors' worksheets and set his pupils to working them. Two boys worked each problem then compared results. It was a tedious process, but doing it on the scene sped things up. Xebrek took an interest in the work, explaining that fine survey instruments were often of dwarfic manufacture, though not by his own folk at Stone Mountain.

The count lifted his glass and asked everyone to join him in a toast:

"To success, love, friendship, and long life. And may all of you return safely from your quest."

That night, Klarendes graciously stepped aside, announcing that he would retire early and would see them all in the morning, including Aodh. Taking his cue, the young wir joined the twins in their chamber for a happy reunion. The next few days were a round robin tournament of bed hopping with Dahl and the twins sharing the attentions of the young minstrel. All parties were happy with the arrangement, including Esmeralda who was gratified to have her half of the feather bed back all to herself, if only for a short while. Not that she didn't miss her shapeshifter friend, twice slipping into the twins' room to wake Aodh up with a nip on the nose to attend her at breakfast.

Ran and his old boyfriend Arik had some catching up to do as well. No girls this trip for Ran. He had had plenty of those back at the garrison town. During their short stay in the valley, Arik kept him fully occupied. They made a fine couple, the diminutive blond elf-boy and the brawny sandy-haired local youth. By long standing preference both of them went around in the nude as did most young males in the valley. Arik himself had advanced from apprentice carpenter to journeyman, staying under the roof of the master carpenter he served, Master Justin.

That good man gave his protege time off for the duration, so the lusty youth stayed with Ran in his room at the manor. Good thing for its thick walls. When those two lovebirds joined in sexual congress, they were anything but quiet. Nor did they confine their amatory activities to within those walls. Ran insisted on dragging Arik back to the bushes by the training ground, to the very spot where they had originally consummated their physical relationship. They ignored the attentive audience of boys and youths who gathered to watch, take notes, and maybe learn something about male love.

Arik was very much a top and Ran very much a bottom, with males, of course. The prurient viewers got a good look at Ran's bottom and his heels as well when Arik put the youth on his back and draped the elf-boy's slender legs over his shoulders. He pinned Ran's wrists to the ground, establishing total control over the sexy body squirming under him.

Ran had time for only a single outburst of his trademark impertinence when he asked if Arik would still respect him in the morning. That was when Arik mashed their lips together in a hungry kiss. The poor elf-boy was helpless, as the brawny carpenter thrust into him suddenly, sliding smoothly all the way in for a total impalement. Soon Ran's small body was trembling with lust, his head whipping left and right, eyes rolled up, calling on his lover to fuck him, to conquer him, to make Ran his boy.

Arik obliged most willingly.

Came the day of departure, they set out on horseback, now a party of six, to outward appearances two young scouts, two juvenile elves, a dwarf, and a unicorn. Looking at them, the count mused, you would not think that they were all doughty fighters. Still it did not pay to look helpless on the road. The dwarf carried a maul on his leather belt with a shield hung from his saddle. No armor for the elf-boys, indeed they rode nude, one with a quarterstaff strapped to his saddle, the other with a kukri in a saddle scabbard. The twins had their bows and could handle quarterstaff and their blades as well.

The journeymen kept their status as druids hidden. Time enough to declare themselves when they got where they were going. No point getting dragged into everyone's problems along the way, just because the locals thought a druid ought to take a hand in resolving their troubles.

For this next leg, the travelers retraced their old route through the Commonwealth, west to the Long River where the took a large riverboat south to lands they had never seen, to where the river flowed into the Great Inland Fresh Water Sea. The twins and the elves went back to the casual practices of their last river voyages, happy to spend an extended period of time with neither clothing nor chores. With only males aboard the twins had no worries about persistent personages of the predatory female persuasion either. As passengers they had little to do though they did shoot at a target towed from the stern of the ship, losing very few arrows in the water, they were just that good.

At one stopover, the twins had procured maps of the area they were headed for, intending to update and correct them against what they found on the ground. By now Jemsen and Karel were proficient makers of maps. Naval charts though remained a mystery. What did they know of prevailing winds, currents, sandbars, soundings, and shoals? They were satisfied with an outline map of the Inland Sea showing its coasts and the adjoining lands.

The Great Inland Fresh Water Sea was an immense sweet water lake that finally drained to the Southern Ocean via an impassible gorge. Its outfall was a cataract whose roar could be heard on ships well out to sea. The lake was irregular in shape with vast embayments. It lobes formed a coastline for many lands, not all of them civilized. Still, with the pirates fleets cleared out, it was a highway for commerce and communication. Oh occasionally a ship down on its luck turned to piracy, but the journeymen druids had nothing to fear from pirates whose ships were made of wood. With a single command, a journeyman druid could spring the planks in a ship's bow, opening a hole for water to rush in, fill its hull, and send it straight to the bottom.

Though storms could arise suddenly and toss ships around, the Inland Sea was usually a pacific body of water, far easier to navigate than the limitless outer ocean with its mountainous swells not to mention occasional rogue waves higher than a ship's mast. By preference, even lands with alternative access to salt water preferred to ship via the Inland Sea even if that meant a roundabout route. Some navigators were starting to call it the Pacific Sea, if only to save syllables.

Their journey across took a month, counting stops to drop off and pick up cargo. As passengers, they were all at loose ends. Ran caught the eye of the first mate, a handsome windblown sort in his mid-twenties. They often paired off to spend quality time in that officer's tiny cabin. Its single unglazed porthole let sounds of their lusty sexual congress carry to everyone on deck. Dahl and the twins slept together. Poor Merry was confined to a stuffy stall in the hold, an indignity which he bore stoically.

From time to time Dahl practiced his mind speech, seeing how far he could reach with it. It was easy with those around him. He could talk to anybody now, a skill that had been necessary to advance to journeyman level. Balan was still incommunicado, and he could just sense Owain but not communicate any meaningful message.

All manner of creatures lived in the lake's waters, from tiny fish and crustaceans to leviathans longer than their boat. A school or pod of the monsters would rise to the surface, flukes working to propel them faster than the ship could sail. These herd animals fed on the tiny plants and animals that floated on the surface, straining their food from the sea through bony ridges in their huge maws. Other leviathans were clearly carnivores with long underslung jaws and huge teeth. These we reputed to prey on the krakens of the deep.

Fortunately the big fierce monster fish of travelers' tales were rare, as any apex predator must be from the simple logic of its situation. Anyway, they all had better things to do than gnaw on wooden ships. Which was fortunate for the humans aboard since the leviathans mostly took little heed of druids and their powers. The journeymen could sense their minds and their emotions, but could not really communicate with them much less control them.

In a confrontation, a druid would have to rely on his considerable physical powers wielding one of the wicked looking pikes and lances ranged along the starboard bulwark, normally used to repel boarders or to dispatch large fish the seamen had landed. In his hands, with his magically enhanced strength, speed, reflexes, and stamina, Dahl could take on a lake monster with some prospect of success. He just hoped Xebrek followed his lead and did not try to brain the monster with that short-handled maul of his. That got him thinking.

"Hey, Xebrek. I was thinking about how I would cope with one of those slash bears we heard about at Elysion. To be sure I might strangle a bear with vines and such, but there is another way, simpler and less tiring. Bears are omnivores, right?. They eat fruits and pine cones and other seeds. To kill one, all I need to do is to make those seeds sprout in its gut and grow wildly, tearing its innards apart. The beast would bleed out, or rather inwardly, in no time."

"You, my young friend, have a fiendish imagination. Still it is a good idea with one important limitation. Your tactic won't work against pure flesh eaters. Even on land, once they get into a killing mood, they can be hard to turn away, at least for druids at our power level."

"I work mostly with animals, though I am sure I could manage that trick myself. I can work with plants too, but it takes more effort for me than for you to get the same results. Which is why I prefer animals."

"True, though I expect a senior druid like Owain who can handle both plants and animals equally well and even control a herd of brontotheres would have little trouble with land carnivores or lake monsters as well. By the way, do brontotheres live in your part of the country?"

"Nay. We have little contact with wildlife in our caverns, just blind fish, bats, and such. The only animals we keep are cave cats, which are nearly twice the size of the count's Esmeralda, but with a less benign disposition. We are quite fond of them actually, though I am not really sure why."

"I sometimes think that felines have their own psychic powers. Look how Esmeralda charms everyone to do her bidding or the way she blithely clambers onto Balan's shoulders for a perch to survey her domain."

They smiled. Both had fond memories of the personable ginger cat.

Chapter 27. Stone Mountain Country

After a long and pleasant voyage their ship put in at Brax, the port that served as the maritime outlet for exports from the Stone Mountain country, though the port, the city of Brax, and its prosperous hinterland were in the hands of humans. The country seem pleasant enough though the same could not be said for its inhabitants. Cool and inhospitable at best, the folk thereabouts were abrupt and even rude. Certainly no one made them feel welcome, not even the staff at their inn. The clientele was worse, most treated them coldly or with hostility. Dahl couldn't understand it. Surely things had not gotten so bad. Was it just that a dwarf was one of their party?

That was exactly the problem. The group had no sooner sat down at a table in the common room of their inn and ordered ale when a surly local with a scraggly beard called over to them, sneering:

"Hey dwarf-lovers! Lose your pants or something?"

Dahl looked around and noticed that only the four of them, the two elves and the twins were entirely naked. The humans were all in loincloths or trews or tunics. Only the wine boys ran around in the rude nude, as an inducement for randy customers to call them over for a refill while they stroked the lissome boy's rump or belly. The surly fellow pressed on:

"So why did you take your clothes off in the first place, pretty one. Are you a rent boy trolling for custom?"

That brought nasty laughs from a half-dozen thugs seated around his table in back.

"You are confused, sir," Dahl replied. "What comes in the first place is nudity, for that is how we are born. Logically it follows that putting on clothes comes second, so taking them off is a distant third. Which, in this oppressive tropical heat, only makes sense."

"Oh, a smart ass, is it?" The lout got up from his table and stepped forward, fists clenched, spoiling for a fight.

Ran rose from his chair motioning for the others to stay put. He turned toward the big bruiser who was giving them a hard time.

"As you can see, I am the smallest one of us all and looking even more a bum boy than my friend here. Truth to tell, in our day, all of us pretty boys have bent over for coin. But we can fight too, when we have to, as I am prepared to prove to you. Here is the deal. If I can take you, just me, a tiny nude rent boy, will you and the rest of your friends leave us alone?"

"And what is your forfeit if you lose?"

"You and your friends get to mount me as you will."

"Har! You are on, bum boy. Beating a bitty thing like you will be no trouble at all."

The fight, if you could really call it that, was over almost before it began. The man threw a punch then found himself inexplicably laid out, head throbbing from where it had clunked into the floor, arm twisted behind in a painful joint lock. The little bum boy who had defeated him was not even breathing hard. With a final wrench of the man's wrist to discourage any thoughts of a re-match, Ran released him and walked back to his friends. Unreconciled to his friend's disgrace, one of the thugs at the table bellowed:

"No fair using martial arts tricks. Come on fellas, let's teach these kids a lesson. We'll beat them up then fuck the shit out of all of them. I get first dibs on the feisty little blond elf."

Same bold challenge. Same ignominious results.

Just then patrolmen of the city watch walked through the doors, their leader shooting the tavern keeper an interrogatory look. To his credit, the man pointed his thumb to the locals and said that they had started the fight, which matched the sergeant's own appraisal of the situation. Pointing to the thugs, their sergeant warned:

"Come peaceably and we will release you in the morning, after you have sobered up. Resist arrest, and you will face a serious charge. And you're paying for the damages too. As for you, strangers, you can go on your way, and I advise you to do so. Don't think I care much for dwarf-lovers, but my job is to keep the peace. Better if you do not linger here in town."

"We won't and thanks." His prejudices aside, Dahl did respect the way the sergeant had defused the situation, making the ruffians a fair offer they could hardly refuse. It spoke well of the administration of justice in those parts.

It took four days at a steady pace to reach Stone Mountain, really a triangle of mountains set around a central vale. From the surface the only way in was through a gate guarded by dwarves. There were other entrances, but those were underground, connecting with the natural caverns where the dwarves lived. By long-standing treaty, here the dwarves ruled the land on the surface as well as their stony lairs.

The dwarves welcomed the team the druids had sent them housing them in one of the upper galleries along the mountain wall where windows had been cut to admit light and air. Horsehair mattresses made for comfortable sleeping and thanks to the thick stone walls the sounds of their enthusiastic lovemaking could not disturb the natives. In the cool and even chill air of the caverns the visitors donned tunics provided by the dwarves but shucked those whenever they went up to the surface, such as to swim in the central lake or lope around the track that circled it.

Their frequent nudity got them looks. Sure everyone knew intellectually that young elves never wore clothing but it was different seeing an pretty young elf run around nude on their home ground, rump and manly parts totally on display. Even more with two human youths in the same state of undress. As Karel put it:

"It's the first time in years when I wasn't just naked but conspicuously undressed. Yet strangely, for the first time in years the people around me aren't looking at me with lust in their hearts. There is simply no sexual spark between dwarves and humans.

"Your Stone Mountain country is beautiful, Xebrek. "A miniature green paradise within a circle of grey mountains rearing up dramatically to the sky. Look, in the center is a lake that collects the runoff from the mountains. Its outlet is a rocky river which plunges beneath the suffice and runs underground for a ways."

"That's right Dahl." Jemsen remarked. "The underground river resurfaces at a lower elevation and flows on like any other river."

"So what is the problem?"

Xebrek took it from there.

"During the rainy season, the flow is much greater, sometimes threatening to submerge our homes below. We have a solution, but it puts us in conflict with the humans."

It seemed that timber was one of the main exports out of Brax. Many of its citizens worked as seasonal lumberjacks, in the sawmills, or on the ships that carried lumber to markets across the sea. Their timber industry relied on the annual flood to float huge rafts of logs down from their timberlands, rafts with too much draft to pass over the rapids at low water without snagging. Coincidentally, a clan of dwarves also relied on the flood to float their barges laden with stone from their quarry down the river to the seaport at Brax.

The dwarves wanted to build an overflow channel to divert the floodwaters. They planned to chisel and hammer a tunnel under the mountain at the only point where it was practicable, directing the waters to a new river bed on the surface that would rejoin the main stream above the quarries but below the river port for the timber interests. The tunnel and stream would leave the human operation high and dry come next rainy season.

This conflict of rational interests had been blown all out of proportion by troublemakers, outside agitators mostly, working for their adversary. The bully boys in their hire were constantly stirring up trouble, picking fights, blaming the dwarves for everything that went wrong. A landslide here or a sink hole there was put down to the dwarves undermining the ground above, even when no dwarves operated anywhere near there. A rise in the price of grain was also laid to their door, though it was really caused by market conditions across the Inland Sea. Ease of transport on its waters and on its many tributaries had created a grain market covering half the continent. And those weren't the only grievances deliberately blamed on the dwarves.

Both sides were arming, though only reluctantly on the part of the dwarves. They were a stubborn folk but not belligerent and traditionally reluctant to go to war. Besides, they were outnumbered by the prolific humans, and they knew it.

"You would think that with the entire surface world in their hands, humans would not begrudge us our little corner of the globe." Xebrek complained, heedless of his mixed metaphor and bad geometry. "I give it three months before civil war breaks out."

<Not just a civil war, my friend, a race war. The very worst kind.> Merry put in.

One morning, Dahl asked the twins to show him their maps of the region around Stone Mountain that they had been updating all the while.

"Hmmm. These maps show the elevations only by shading; there is no numerical data on actual altitude."

"That's right Dahl. This mapping technique is called hachures. The shading, that is these close-drawn short lines, shows the orientation of the slopes. By their thickness and density they give a sense of steepness. It's actually a step forward from the old fashioned hill profiles on oblique maps, though those are simpler for a layman to understand. You understand, actual elevations, even spot elevations, would require a survey."

"Too bad. If only we had better maps and better ways of showing elevation.

Which set Jemsen and Karel to thinking. A year or so later they devised contour lines as a better way to indicate elevation on maps. In recognition of their signal accomplishment, they would have knighthood conferred on them. The Honorable Guild of Cartographers would induct them as Master Cartographers. Meanwhile the job of measuring spot elevations would keep the Commonwealth's surveyors gainfully employed for a generation.

Dahl thought it over for a couple of days, talking things out with Merry and the twins. Neither could offer a solution, but they were a good sounding board for the elf-boy, helping him to clarify his own understanding of the problem.

That night, as Merry was thrusting deep into him, the unicorn made some offhand reference to his tunnel of love. Perhaps inspired by his words, Dahl suddenly yelled out loud.

"I got it!"

<You sure do!> Merry assured him, by now very much aroused.

<No, no, no. I've got the solution. I am sorry Merry, but we gotta stop now. Please pull out and listen up. We gotta keep this just between us. That is why I am on our private channel.>

<This had better be good, Dahl, all things considered. So what is your big idea?>

<It is in two parts. You know how the twins have an unerring sense of direction, which works for elevation as much as azimuth or compass direction. We can use that to find the two ends points for a new water tunnel higher in elevation than the ones the dwarves had planned. The first point would be in the vale of the dwarves, high up, on the surface where a pool feeds the underground stream. The second point is lower down but still above both the quarry and the loggers. The twins can give us an absolute azimuth and elevation to link the two points. That is the blueprint for a gravity fed overflow tunnel.>

<But Dahl, just from what I saw of the map, it would take a tunnel a thousand paces long to connect those points. The dwarves could never dig that far.>

<Who said anything about digging? Count Klarendes could blast a tunnel through the mountain with white fire! That's the second part of my idea.>

<That is a terrific idea, Dahl. I am sure Klarendes is up to the task. He is a powerful firecaster indeed. Still, with tensions so high, promises won't be enough. We need the firecaster here at Stone Mountain to prove to the humans that we will do it. No way to avoid it, but we'll have to bring Owain in on this, not to take over, mind you, but to transport Klarendes here as quickly as possible.>

<How can even a druid get the Count of the Eastern March here in time? On a galloping brontothere, maybe?>

<Ha ha ha. You and your brontotheres, Dahl. You are strangely fascinated by animals you have seen only in drawings. Awesome creatures, to be sure, but they cannot swim the Inland Sea. Strictly speaking they cannot gallop either. The gallop is a gait where all four feet leave the ground at once, if only briefly, and brontotheres are much too heavy for that.>

<All right then, maybe Owain enlists a giant bird to carry the good count through the skies.>

<Sorry, Dahl. Rocs are just a legend. The largest of the condors can lift a newborn lamb, but that is about the limit. Still, there is a way. The Commonwealth keeps a fleet of fast courier boats, sleek twin hulled beauties, much faster than any cargo ship or warship for that matter. A druid aboard her can call steady winds to propel and by taking a direct course can get here three or four times faster than we managed during our slow voyage.>

Merry put in a call to Owain who agreed that he could get away just then and make the trip. One of the unicorns had volunteered to carry him to Elysion to pick up Klarendes and very likely Aodh. He said he would be at Stone Mountain in three weeks. Owain also had important news of his own.

The druids had just turned back an invasion of the Great Forest by a vast army of humans and orcs. The druids had created a living barrier in the lowlands and marshes flanking the forest to its north. There the druids created new forms of life, hordes of stinging and biting insects, loosed on this world for the first time, plus numberless poisonous snakes, toads, and frogs. Next, the inner belt of marshes was camouflaged to look like firm ground, but much of it was quicksand below a thin crust of sand and tufts of greenery. The quicksand swallowed thousands every day as they surged forward. After laboriously building a causeway across the marshes, all the while enduring plagues of insects and poisonous reptiles, the enemy army had to endure millions of mice and biting rodents run amok. Many thousands died from infection compounded by poor hygiene.

By the time they penetrated the forest itself, the enemy was essentially defeated, though they would not recognize it. Then it was the turn of the Great Forest itself. A million square miles of green sentience turned with malevolent intent upon the invaders, setting both plants and forest denizens on the invaders. The Dark Prophet sent his army forward into the trees to its doom. Almost none of it returned.

It cost our enemy three hundred thousand men, with negligible losses for the Green forces. The victory was even more lopsided than the Great Entrapment and with fewer survivors. Those who escaped the trees or turned back at the last minute had to re-run the gantlet of rodents, serpents, and bugs. A cavalry squadron from an allied army swept up the remnants.

<Another lesson in the awesome power of the druids. It is great news, of course, but I don't like the idea of biting and stinging insects, Merry. Not when I always run around stark naked. I mean, just think about it. Oh my poor bum!>

<I would share your feelings except that I am reliably informed that there is nothing to worry about. All the adult forms of the insects were born sterile, unable to reproduce their kind. The new species have died out since.>

Chapter 28. Triumph and Tragedy

Unfortunately that was the last of the good news for a while. For all their efforts including a mad dash across the continent by Owain, Klarendes, and Aodh in the speedy courier boat, time ran out. Human politics being what they were, the hotheads in Brax prevailed over the voices of caution and moderation. Granted temporary control of the city government and extraordinary powers, the extremists mobilized their city-state for war.

If only the humans had held off another few days. But no. They had bulled ahead, rejecting all pleas for peace, which they took for a sign of weakness. Now battle would be joined.

The human army marched out of the city, determined to force the gate to the surface domain of the dwarves, the green vale at the heart of Stone Mountain. That would give them access to the unfortified entrances to the caverns below. The humans chanted slogans like "The surface world is for humans. The underworld is for dwarves." And they did not mean the caverns their enemies lived in.

Their line of march was completely predictable, straight up the river valley, columns marching on both sides of the river which was at low water affording many places for either column to cross the river in support of the other. Likewise no surprises about where they would bivouac at the end of each day's march. Indeed advance parties went to work in the five places where the army would stop on its march to Stone Mountain.

That made the twins' job much easier. Acting as snipers and concealed under their camouflage cloaks, they loosed their arrows from vantage points overlooking the line of march, targeting the officers of the human army, picking them off at extreme long range. Their power of their long bows and the advantage of the boost from gravity by shooting down from a height let their arrows carry much farther than the humans could reply with crossbows. After each ambush, the twins retreated down escape routes they had previously scouted, setting traps for anyone foolish enough to try to run them down, and trusting to their cloaks to fade into the background. Only once did they run into a small patrol and have to cut their way into the clear with their kukris.

Even before the human army set out, the journeymen druids had been at work, first creating defenses at Stone Mountain and then devising fiendish ways to harass the army on the march. Working together the druids devised a trap of sorts for the army, a stretch of innocent looking woodlands. Rerouting small streams, Dahl and Xebrek created prime soggy habitat for tiny insects, non-biting midges which fed on the detritus of the forest floor. The marshy lowlands along the river were perfect places for their eggs to develop and hatch at just the right moment.

As the humans settled into camp late one afternoon, clouds of midges hatched, rose up, and swarmed the area. The tiny buggers got into the eyes and ears and up noses of the humans, distracting them and making their lives miserable and depriving them of sleep. The men made masks to cover nose and mouth but that left their ears open. Midges that wormed their way into the middle ear or into the sinus cavities of some unfortunates and literally drove their victims crazy. These soldiers ducked their heads underwater to try to drown their tormenters but either failed or drowned themselves instead. Though very few actually died from the midge attack, the effect on morale was disproportionately bad.

At various points along the march, Dahl flash grew wide belts of poison ivy and poison oak, interspersed with thorn bushes and shoulder high grass to hide the hazards. The cuts made by thorns in clothing and the bared arms and legs of the invaders increased the effectiveness of the contact poisons exuded by the noxious plants, taking many men out of the fight before it got properly started, which saved their lives.

At Stone Mountain itself, the way up to the mountain gate lay through thick woods on the lower slopes and tangled brush at the higher elevations. Dahl created a defensive line of entangling vines which sent out runners and creepers to slow or trip up front ranks of the human soldiers, making them stationary targets for the dwarves' crossbowmen. No need here to root the enemy in place as Owain had done with his giants.

The vines grew faster than the human soldiers could hack them away. Meanwhile, the follow-on formations had to stand still behind the entangled front line, helpless to assist and really only waiting their own turn to advance into the great hell and arrow storm to their front. Anyway behind that first line was a second barrier -- a wide thorn brake.

That was all Dahl could come up with in his first battle as a druid. His new "belly-ache" technique worked on only one subject at a time, and the thought of using it on misguided humans made him queasy. He would have to pick his targets one by one, look the man in the face, and then condemn him to a horrific death. Dahl just could not bring himself to kill that way.

Xebrek was less squeamish in defense of his homeland and people. He rallied animals all along the route of march of the human army. Every night wolves and bears and panthers snuck into camp and carried off sentinels and sleeping soldiers or left behind grisly corpses. Xebrek also gathered a pack of fearsome dire wolves but held them back as a reserve. Meanwhile he sent serpents to slither through the tents, impossible to detect in the gloom till they struck. At one enemy bivouac Xebrek surpassed himself and raised an army of scorpions from the sands to plague the enemy, quite unusual because bugs generally did not answer a druid's call.

Too bad there wasn't a herd of his brontotheres handy, Xebrek complained to Dahl. They agreed that, sadly, brontotheres were never around when you needed them. Even without the giant beasts the dwarf did more than all right

With their noxious plants and scorpions, both druids tried when they could to render soldiers hors-de-combat without actually killing them. They were motivated both by compassion and by calculation. A dead soldier reduced enemy ranks by one. Several healthy soldiers were required to carry a wounded man to the healers, taking them off the line, at least temporarily. For all his stern resolve in defense of his people, Xebrek never resorted to the cruelest of tactics his wily mind could devise. Xebrek knew that after the fighting, the dwarves would have to make peace and somehow find a way to live alongside their one-time enemy, to trade with the other side. Their economies were interedependent. They needed each other.

Much more numerous than the dwarves, the human army marched with dismantled siege engines they would set up to force their way in, and were allied with a war wizard cashiered from the Commonwealth army, or so Darpal claimed to be. A gaunt human, with a touch of orc blood, bald, brooding, and utterly malevolent in appearance, he promised to shake the dwarves defenses apart with earth magic. If need be, his earthquake would split the mountain and let the human army march right to the green vale within. Actually, though he was capable of powerful magics, Darpa1 had exaggerated his abilities, but he was still a very real threat.

Ranged against the evil wizard and the human army stood the dwarves in arms, a unicorn, and three druids, though Owain was there essentially a witness. The druids were easy to pick out, dressed in formal green tunics, their camouflage cloaks, turned a matching shade for the occasion, billowed around them by the wind. Just in front of their position was a short thorn brake to protect them. If need be it could be flash grown to an uncrossable barrier. The druids needed to concentrate on the big picture, not let themselves get distracted by personal self-defense.

The twins stationed themselves just upslope from the dwarves' crossbowmen behind a barrier of planks they had placed to protect their nude unarmored bodies from enemy arrows. There they stood, ready to loft their own shafts over the line of crossbowmen to fall on the aggressors, loosing at a greater range shooting downhill than their allies or enemies could achieve uphill. Their hapless human targets would be forced to make a choice to either hold their shields low against the crossbowmen or to raise them against arrows plunging from the sky.

Ran kept them supplied with arrows. Though he did not mix it up with the invaders, Ran was very much a part of the battle, constantly exposed to enemy fire, with nothing to protect him, no shield, no armor, no helm. Just a small nude elf-boy running himself ragged fetching arrows or carrying messages to the various unit commanders.

The dwarves had no choice but to use messengers. It was their only way to coordinate the efforts of their left, center, and right wings with their reserves. Their army was a militarily unsophisticated militia, lacking the standard operating practices of professional militaries like signaling with bugles, drums, or flags. The human army, while also mostly militia, had a core of professionals supplemented by mercenaries looking for loot. So their formations did respond to signals.

Despite his quickness and nimbleness, Ran twice felt the sting of arrows. The first scraped a rib before deflecting off to the right. The second transfixed his thigh. Ran fell to the ground, crying out in pain. Noticing the elf-boy's plight, Owain broke off the arrowhead and pulled the shaft out of his flesh. Ran was losing blood and might well have bled out. The senior druid called on his healing powers to stop the bleeding, close the wound, and knit the torn flesh together. Ran returned to duty, though walking instead of running and keeping a dwarf shield he picked up between him and the foe.

Despite the restraint of the druids in particular and the dwarves in general, much blood was spilled on both sides. In one incident early on, the humans fell upon a patrol of dwarves and massacred them, mutilating their bodies, and putting them on display at the foot of the mountain. That saddened the dwarves but only strengthened their resolve. They tightened the leather retaining straps around their wrists and gripped the short handles of their war mauls, ready to bash their enemies once they came within reach.

Meanwhile, in the vale, Count Klarendes was at work, lining up his first shot of white fire, guided by the taut cords the twins had rigged to establish the azimuth and angle of pitch of the tunnel. Aodh was there to watch his back. One wir-panther would count for little in a pitched battle. Anyway, the two lovers were inseparable.

At the climax of the battle, the war wizard shook the battlefield with an earthquake, splitting the ground open to swallow a section of the front rank of the dwarves, then closed the earth back over them to bury them alive. A huge groan rose from the embattled dwarves and their line faltered.

Xebrek stepped into the breach. The dwarf gambled that the wizard had overreached himself with that effort and was vulnerable until he could recoup some of his magical strength. Calling on Merry to guard his back, Xebrek charged and engaged the wizard physically. Drawing on the earth to increase his already prodigious strength, he smashed his hammer into the magically strengthened shield the wizard interposed for protection.

The wizard found himself sore pressed by the doughty dwarf's untoward strength and that wicked maul he wielded. The wizard found himself driven back by the dwarf's powerful onslaught. A final blow from Xebrek's maul powered by his druidically augmented strength split the wizard's magic shield in twain, something the magic wielder had thought utterly impossible. He fell back, arm broken, in consternation and afraid for his life. In desperation he reached toward loose stones lying nearby and with an effort flung them at his foe.

Alas several stones got past Xebrek's shield and struck him. One crushed his skull. The dwarf champion fell dying, but even then Xebrek wasn't finished fighting. His death released the wily druid's last reserve, his pack of dire wolves, stationed back with Dahl and previously held in check by Xebrek's will, but now freed to wreak vengeance on the foe who had killed their master. The attack of the big canines caught the wizard by surprise as they swarmed over him, barking, clawing, biting, rending, and tearing. In moments the magic wielder was reduced to chunks of meat strewn about the field. The fearsome predators disdained the tainted flesh. True to the last command of the druid, the giant wolves ran off, leaving those on two legs to fight it out as best they could.

Meanwhile, the exhausted unicorn retreated to his own lines, his horn bright red with the blood of the men he had impaled, his hooves and lower legs spattered with blood and gore and brain matter. His own blood seeped from wounds all over his body inflicted by the weapons of the enemy. Fortunately the largely militia army was mostly equipped with improvised weapons like pitchforks, rakes and flails and such rather than military hardware. Merry's only consolation for his wounds was that his own fight had kept Xebrek alive long enough to dispatch the wizard.

Though the loss of their magical support took the heart out of the human army, they stubbornly rallied for another attack till an officer pointed and yelled:

"Look!"

On the slope below him a hole opened in the earth spewing white fire, though it was clearly not an attack. It was simply that Klarendes had finally broken through all the way. Behind the fire came water, a whole river of it.

While everyone was milling around, uncertain of what to do, Owain stepped forth and levitated above the fray. Creating a golden nimbus to attract all eyes toward him, he amplified his voice to carry everywhere on the field of battle, calling out:

"Behold the outlet for the overflow channel of the dwarves, placed here to serve the interests of both your peoples, humans as well as dwarves. You can see for yourselves that the waters of the annual flood will carry your cargoes down the river, as in the past. If this war ever had a point to it, it doesn't any more."

The humans were stunned. Not that the new river itself was a military obstacle, not at low water it wasn't. But it was obvious that here was the solution to their conflict of interest with the dwarves over the annual river flood. While they themselves had plotted wholesale murder, their foes had been at work on a peaceable resolution to the problem. Suddenly they were ashamed of themselves, realizing their whole war had been a horrible mistake.

The humans sued for peace and agreed to pay reparations. They finally recognized how they had been deliberately mislead and hunted down the hotheads and outside agitators and gave them swift justice in a court of law. The judge dismissed their self-serving pleas.

"Surely you cannot blame us? We are not men of the sword, nor do we have blood on our hands. We are men of words."

"Yes, too many words and those ill-chosen. The sentence is death!"

Owain was gratified that he had not had to take a direct hand in Dahl's and Xebrek's success. To them went the credit for a task well done with two more to go. To Dahl he gave his warmest congratulations.

To the dwarves Owain said that the name of their fallen hero would be inscribed on the roll of honor of those druids who had fallen in the service of the living world. Xebrek would be enrolled as a full druid, promoted at death by his valor and his sacrifice.

The twins and Ran did what they could to console Dahl who most keenly of them all felt the loss of his close friend, Xebrek. A little more than a year was all they had had together, two people from such different worlds, but he would never forget the bluff but hearty dwarf, no matter how many centuries he lived. The trio stood by Dahl as the journeyman druid, weeping unashamedly, lit Xebrek's funeral pyre on the slope of the mountain the stout-hearted dwarf had given his life to defend. Klarendes morphed the flames into a heroic image of the dwarf then accelerated the combustion so the body was utterly consumed, leaving no grisly remains.

"That was a good thing you did for Xebrek, Count Klarendes. Thanks."

"It was little enough, Dahl. All one can do in the face of a tragic death is to remember the man well. I gave the dwarves an indelible memory of their hero. They won't forget him any time soon."

"Nor will they forget you, Count Klarendes. The way you constructed that tunnel so fast, with a dozen blasts of white fire, and brought an end to the war. I understand that we are all going to be named dwarf friends."

"That is an honor which I will accept and not only to avoid giving offense. I respect the dwarves, their courage, their industriousness, even their shrewd business sense which has sometimes gotten the better of me, I don't mind admitting. They fight only when driven to it, never out of calculation. I only wished humans did likewise."

"Or barbarians."

"No chance of that happening. Forgive me for being blunt, but those fiends relish war for the meaning it gives to their otherwise pointless lives. You see, the barbarians don't have souls."

"Oh I don't mean that in any metaphysical sense, which would be silly. The notion of the soul, of the spirit, is only a superstition rooted in what the philosophers call a category mistake. Spirit is merely a reification of the breath of life. Spirit and soul are really the same root notion as respiration or breath, just mis-categorized as an entity instead of as a process. That is the fundamental error of those who believe in immaterial and immortal souls. To say a man's soul has gone out of him merely signifies that he has stopped breathing. Life is not a thing but a process, or rather a concatenation of many intricately woven processes. Death marks the end of the delicate juggling act that keeps us alive. Death is most emphatically not the expulsion of some immaterial entity from a mortal shell."

"And the mind?"

"What is the mind but the brain at work? Mind is another process mis-categorized as an entity. I set aside all the airy-fairy speculations of the philosophers who argue endlessly, make bold claims of proof, but can never convince their interlocutors, so the wordy wrangle goes on endlessly. Quite in contrast to the natural philosophers, who, when they prove something, prove it undeniably. Anyway, reading philosophy gives me a headache."

"No, when I say that barbarians have no souls, I am not just expressing simple hatred for them, born of the wars against them. They really are little better than animals, never lifting their heads up to look at the heavens and wonder what worlds might circle other suns. They never look at the ground at their feet to marvel at what mighty processes have been at work for eons, to mold the land to the shape it has today or will have tomorrow. They do not build anything -- no roads, no bridges, no libraries, no schools. Nor do they invent devices and processes. Don't look to barbarians for progress."

"Like animals, the barbarians live entirely in the present, thinking with their bellies and their crotches. They treat their women like brood mares and drudges instead of partners. Illiterate, they never look to the past for instruction or even for entertaining stories. They are heedless of the future and poor stewards of the land. Look how, at the beginning of the War for the Plains, they defiled their own lands, actually girdling the trees in their own orchards. To me that constitutes sacrilege, an attack on the very earth which sustains us. That is why I say they have no souls."

"You sound a lot like a druid."

"An angry one, maybe. That is why Xebrek's sacrifice touched me so, even though I barely knew the man, the dwarf, I mean, from his visit. This needless war was a diversion from the real enemy or at least the pawns the real enemy sends against us, the barbarians. I am glad I did not have to fight in this battle, to kill otherwise decent men, who, if their blood were not up, might turn out to be fine fellows you would share a pipe with. Now, so many have died, leaving behind their widows and their orphans. And then there are the wounded. What does a carpenter do for a living after the loss of his right arm? No, those unfortunates will be paying for this war for the rest of their lives."

"Count Klarendes, I have never fought the barbarians, but I share your regret about this war with the people of Brax. I know it had to be done, but my magic helped kill and wound so many. It fills me with regret."

"As it should. You have a good heart, Dahlderon. And please, you must call me Taitos."

Meanwhile Owain healed Merry's hurts magically, closing up his wounds and knitting the skin perfectly, leaving it unmarred.

"Remarkable. You can heal as well as any green-robed healer." Aodh said surprised.

"We all can, all of us senior druids. For most hurts we just heal ourselves. Also, on another level, our healing power works continuously, without conscious effort, much like the ordinary healing power of the human body but much better, to maintain our health and our youth. It is the basis for our longevity which exceeds even that of the elves. Only shape shifters live longer than druids, barring misadventure."

"We keep our healing abilities quiet for two reasons. First, we are so few we cannot appreciably add to the number of healers at work in the field. And we cannot be afford to be distracted. Second, women are much better healers than men are, and those with great power are much more numerous. They wield more healing power and have greater finesse. If I had a choice I would always pick a female healer over a druid for anything serious. So should you, if it ever comes to that."

Then Dahl spoke up:

"I have to ask. How did you manage to levitate like that?"

"Let's save that trick for your advanced class on druidical powers. I will tell you this much: Levitation is not easy and it won't let you fly like a bird. It is mostly going up and down, and not very far at that. Still it is handy if you need to clear a wall or go up or down a cliff in a hurry. I once went aloft to gauge the approach of a column of army ants five thousand paces long and two thousand wide... ten billion ravenous insects on the march."

"How did you stop them?"

"We turned them aside by tapping into a reservoir of rock oil. The river of oil blocked their line of march, sparing the lush croplands we were protecting. Eventually, as is their way, they dispersed, as suddenly as they had gathered, no longer a threat to anyone. Our tactic worked, but it left behind a sticky mess which took years to clear, but no one starved, so it was worth it."

After the funerals, came the victory celebration, a subdued one to be sure, for no one was forgetting the cost of victory. The dwarves declared Dahl, Klarendes, Ran, and the twins dwarf-friends and inscribed a small tattoo on their left shoulders. The twins now had two such designations as both dwarf-friends and elf-friends.

Ran was cited for his courage. During the battle he had run dispatches to the various unit commanders, essentially unarmed and unprotected by armor which would only have slowed him down. He criss-crossed the battlefield half a dozen times unarmed and unarmored, with arrows falling steadily among the ranks of the dwarves two of which struck him. Owain healed both wounds but at Ran's request left the shallow scar along Ran's fifth rib, assuring the Druid that the girls would swoon over a war hero with a battle scar to prove his valor.

The twins were cited not so much for their archery before and during the battle itself as what they had done before it. The maps they drew for the militia helped their officers plan their deployment. Then their maps and magic helped Klarendes construct the overflow tunnel, the completion of which brought the war to an abrupt end.

During the quiet days that followed Klarendes and Aodh were charmed by the peaceful setting of the vale and the lake at the center of Stone Mountain, so much like their own secluded valley, despite the obvious differences. This vale was enclosed by stone mountain peaks, their own valley by wooded slopes, closed off by a rock wall only at the gateway gorge.

The count and Aodh spent days at the lake at the head of the valley, swimming and sailing a small boat, picnicking on the shore, climbing the lower slopes, and making love out in the open like a couple of teenagers. One afternoon, after making love, they just lay on the mountain slope, basking in the sun, and waiting for it to sink behind the mountain, all the while listening to the wind rustle the grasses they lay upon.

Afterwards, one of the moons rose in the east and bathed their bodies in moonlight, making their forms gleam with a blue effulgence. This was a quiet and romantic tryst, a joining of their bodies and souls for the sheer joy of living.

Klarendes started off by nuzzling the shell of the Aodh's ear. Next came light kisses on the nose, the cheeks, and the chin followed by a lingering lip lock and tongue parry. From there the nobleman turned his attention south, circling the boy's tiny red aureoles with the tip of his tongue and gently biting the nubbins which were already stiff and erect. A series of kisses tracked the boy's mid-line down to his navel, where his attentions lingered as he kissed and laved and tongued the deep hollow.

By that time, the boy's ball sac had pulled tight against the fork of his legs, its globularity in contrast to the cylindrical column of the engorged member itself cantilevered over his flat belly. Taitos blew on the head of Aodh's cock aiming the stream of air right at the slit, making its tiny lips open and close in response to the stimulus.

The smooth cock plumped up straightening and lengthening as the head, the only part of him hidden from view, emerged from the foreskin, to point toward the belly button. As the cock lifted completely off the boy's hairless belly, it cantilevered out from the root, rigid but dipping rhythmically with the throb and beat of his heart, all the while leaking a clear fluid which fed a limpid pool on his belly.

A quick intake of breath and a tightening around the his eyes was the only indication that his climax was at hand. Aodh's proud cock engorged beyond its previous impressive girth and began spurting and spitting his white seed onto his chest and belly. Even after six spurts, the gism continued to leak from the still tumescent shaft but now in a slow flow, like a lazy river, emptying into and collecting as a milky pool in the hollow of the boy's belly. Most of the gism gradually gradually turning clearer though some of it turned to crust

Taitos remembered that the natural philosophers had examined the male ejaculate with their lenses, seeing furious activity below the surface as tiny carriers of life in their millions swam and thrashed and corkscrewed in search of an impossible consummation. Klarendes looked at Aodh's orgasm as a visual paean of praise to life itself, to the male powers of generation, to continuity of the flesh and the great chain of being, and, not so incidentally, to the beauty of the young male.

The youth's energetic climax was a catharsis for them both as they lay back to rest. Klarendes gazed fondly at his lover, at the lines of his face and at the slow rise and fall of his chest, visible evidence of the continuity of the vital processes within that sexy body and a promise of so much more to come. If Xebrek was the exemplar of how to die before your time, if you must, the nobleman and the young minstrel were the exemplars of how to live during the time you were vouchsafed.

Their sojourn at Stone Mountain were a quiet idyll before the return to their busy lives in Elysion.

[Continued in Part 7]

Author's Note

If you have enjoyed this story and others like it, consider making a donation to the Nifty Archive. It is so easy. They take credit cards.

This is my first pure fantasy tale for the Nifty Archive. It is entirely fictional, with no resemblance intended to any person living or dead.

Readers who like these stories might want to try my two series 'Daphne Boy' and 'Naked Prey' in the Gay/Historical section of the Archive. My 'Jungle Boy' series of Hollywood tales is posted in the Gay/Authoritarian section. The newer series 'Andrew Jackson High relates the trials and tribulations of five of its gay students. For links to these and other stories, look on the list of Prolific Authors on the Archive.

Comments and feedback welcome.