The Brothers of the Beasts

The Brothers of the Beasts Chapter 3

The Brothers of the Beasts

By Araddion

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Note – Sorry this took so long to get out. I promise to have the next chapter out by the end of the month.

Chapter 3

Big Balls, Sweet Mangoes, and Black Iron from the Night

She is newly returned to the Erthe. Let us strike while she is weak! Let us send my son and his companion into the lands of the mortals. If we are lucky, then a great war need not wrack the world.

-- Amilâ, The Secret Book of the Years, vol. XXVII, chapter 2

The Lord Aradd woke in a muggy, misty dawn. He was in a super mood. How could he not be? He was a young white stallion, and last night's tally was five damn good nuts, each blasted into a virgin butt. Pretty good for this part of the world.

The Lord Aradd rolled upright and stood. His nostrils searched the gentle south breeze. Yes, those fragrant hints had been true. There was a meadow nearby, full of succulent grass. He was famished, but first, he had to tell his Elf he was going out for breakfast. Gingerly, the big stallion stepped over and through sleeping cavalrymen. He nuzzled Sâlanu.

"Wake up, sleepyhead."

The snoring Elf murmured and rolled onto his belly.

"Yo! Buttmunch! Wake up! I got something to tell you!"

The Elf dreamed on. The Lord Aradd rolled his eyes.

"Useless fucking Elf!"

The stallion's gaze shifted to the cavalrymen. The Lord Aradd selected a young, blond man, sleeping on his back under a thin sheet, resting his head on a bent arm. Thwock. The stallion kicked the sinewy shoulder. Pale blue eyes popped open.

"Hello!" The white stallion was genial. "My name is the Lord Aradd. Would you be so kind as to tell my Elf, when he awakens, that I'm going outside to eat grass?"

Sleepy blue eyes widened into startled blue eyes. The Lord Aradd sighed. Sometimes, you had to make the obvious plain as fucking day to these dumb young apes.

"Hey, dude. Do me a favor. Tell my sleepy fucktard I'm going out to get some munchies. Mmm-kay?"

The startled youth stared at the stallion's moving lips. At the looming threat of big white teeth. On his elbows, he began squirming away. The Lord Aradd rumbled irritably.

"Yo! Douchebag! I'm talking to you!"

The young man froze but didn't reply.

"Ohhhhh-kay. Fine. I'm dealing with an airhead. Well then, I'll talk real slow like. Will you. Fucking tell. My damn Elf. I'm going outside. To. Eat. Some. Mother. Fucking. Grass!" The stallion shoved his face against the young man's. "Grunt if I'm making myself clear! Grunt, monkey boy, grunt! Surely you can fucking grunt?"

The young man began whimpering.

"Idiot! Moron! Inbred! Next time you see your parents, slap `em and tell `em incest is a recreational sport, not a procreational one! Sheesh!"

The stallion whirled on his hind legs and bounded off. Tail high, he trotted through the north gate, daring with his burning eyes the guards to block his way with crossed voulges. Wisely, they declined.

Fifty feet along the road, the Lord Aradd turned and plunged through a bank of tall, green ferns. The forest was dim and gloomy under the high canopy. Chattering monkeys scampered through the branches. Heavy vines and thick creepers draped the trunks of rubber and nut trees. Orchids quivered in islands of sunbeams. The ground under his hooves was soft and loamy.

Suddenly, the stallion halted.

"Who's there?"

All young stallions, the most beautiful and sexual creatures ever, instinctively sense when someone is ogling their lean, sculpted bodies. Since the Lord Aradd's prime focus was to seek out and fuck strange new things, his version of this sense was acute. Oddly, it seemed no one was looking at him. A sweet scent so faint he couldn't be sure if it was real or his imagination tantalized his nostrils, though.

"Aradd, you're losing it. Mangoes? Nah. Can't be."

Mane streaming, tail high, the stallion trotted on. A big meadow opened. Tall, succulent grass waved in the gentle breeze. Lustily, the Lord Aradd set to ripping up mouthfuls of forage. As he chewed, he kept his guard up. His ears swiveled. Good. That overgrown corral those fucking stupid humans had locked themselves into was in earshot. If the stallion somehow got into trouble, his trumpeting would summon his big dumb oaf of an Elf.

Thunk.

"What the fuck?"

An egg-shaped object waddled across the grass. The small end was yellow as fine wine. The fat end was as cerise as a female's well-fucked cunt. The stallion sniffed at it, then blinked with astonishment.

"I'll be damned." He blinked again. "That's a motherfucking mango!"

His big white teeth bit into the fruit. It wasn't the easiest thing in the world separating that sweet, sweet pulp from the hard nut, but the Lord Aradd was clever and determined. He spat out the nut, lifted his head, and savored the honey dribbling down his throat. This juice was sublime as the colt Lashka's taut butt. He swallowed the pulp and smacked his lips. Damn, if he didn't feel good. Maybe even a little buzzed. He resumed munching grass.

Thunk!

"Is that another mango? Fuck me dead, it is!"

This mango had caught against a tall tuft of grass about halfway to a big, liana-draped mahogany tree. The Lord Aradd trotted over. It was scrumptious. After spitting the nut and swallowing the pulp, he felt terrific! He was beyond buzzed; he was frisky. Better get some grass in his belly. Gotta have fuel to fuck.

Thunk.

"Now this is what I call a lucky day!"

The third dose of mango magic set the Lord Aradd's blood to boiling. Six inches of horsecock dangled from his sheath, putting on a show for whomever – or whatever – wanted him. Who wouldn't want him? The Lord Aradd was beyond fine – he was superior to all the rest. His eyes swept the fringes of the forest.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are!"

Someone giggled. Ah! In the soft shadows cloaking the mahogany's roots, an alluring silhouette stood, one hand clutching the mossy trunk. A female! A nice change of pace after last night's parade of colts. The Lord Aradd's hoof raked the grass. Hot breath puffed from his nostrils.

"Looking for a good time, babe?"

"Are you the Lord Aradd?" Her voice was small and tremulous.

"Who else? But let me prove it." The stallion shook his silky mane, lifted his proud head, spread his powerful hind legs, elevated his beautiful tail, and jutted his powerful chest. "Wanna fuck?"

"You're kind of ... overwhelming."

"I know. I get that a lot. Don't worry. We'll start slowly. Like this." The stallion waggled his tongue lasciviously. "See? I'm a cunning linguist ... if you know what I mean."

The wasp-waisted silhouette did the most peculiar thing. Her hand moved as if plucking fruit from an invisible tree. She revealed a mango, more precious than bullion.

"Awww, babe! Wanna get married?" crooned the Lord Aradd. "There's this hick town back over there. They're a bunch of hicks, so they won't ask questions – Hey! What the fuck?"

She leaped over the mahogany's roots. The mango receded with her into the gloomy forest. The Lord Aradd erupted with gusty laughter.

"Oh, I love me a chase!"

The Lord Aradd thundered after her. Her silhouette flashed through a slanting pillar of a distant sunbeam. She was fleet, but the Lord Aradd wasn't going to lose her. Her sopping cunt and that luscious mango betrayed her every move, laying down a scent any stallion could follow. He weaved around trees, leaped logs, crashed through bushes.

"Yo! Babe! I got a three-foot cock and I'm ready to rock!"

Poor lass! The Lord Aradd understood her skittishness. His massive endowment often terrified the objects of his lust. The chase went on, however. In the end, everyone surrendered to horsecock.

"Whoa!"

The mango girl awaited him, hands on her knees and panting, near a large thicket. Wanton eyes glinted like emeralds spilled from a treasure chest. Her long hair was evergreen, and her skin was flushed with a tart apple coloration. Inked on her breasts was a pattern of vines and leaves. There was a fallen trunk behind her. Good; she could support herself on it when he mounted.

"You're so -- so sensual," she panted. "With each shot, your mighty balls must be able to sire a billion colts!"

"Not just colts," said the Lord Aradd. "If you know what I mean."

He felt the spunk sloshing in his balls. He had oceans to jet. This slut's womb was going to brim with it. His eyes fluttered as his massive cock began slithering free of his sheath. It felt so good to get a hardon!

"Now don't be nervous, babe." The Lord Aradd high-stepped towards her. "I know how to do you right. Bend over that log and I'll give you something you'll never forget."

Silently, she turned, planted her palms on the log, spread her thighs, and gazed at him over her shoulder. His swinging shaft stiffened into a throbbing horsecock of doom. His eyes were focused on the light green down of her muff and his mind was absorbed with images of her tiny slit. Hence, he failed to notice the sly light flickering in her eyes.

"Now, boys!" she cried.

The leaves of the bushes exploded into frenzied shivering. Short, dark shapes charged from beneath it. The Lord Aradd glimpsed bright eyes, drooling lips, and horns. Paws reached for his legs. Stomping, the Lord Aradd shrieked like a schoolgirl.

"Eek! Eeeeeeeeeeek! Kill `em! Kill `em with fire!"

The green girl seated herself on the fallen tree, a wicked glow in her eyes.

Lashka awoke with a yelp when Gerynt's boot connected with his buttock. He shot upright and banged his head against the underside of the wagon.

"Ow!"

"Get up, layabout."

"Stop kicking me!" Lashka yelled, glaring at Gerynt.

"If you'd wake up when I call, I wouldn't have to kick you!" Bleary-eyed and grizzle faced, Gerynt was nursing one hell of a hangover. "Dig Gorma out of the back. Then get the rest of the caravan up. We roll in an hour." He rubbed his eyes. "Maybe hour and a half."

"Yeah yeah yeah, whatever."

Lashka crawled from beneath the wagon, stood, yawned, and stretched until Gerynt ambled off. Then he flipped off the caravan master's fat ass. Lashka trotted to the wagon's rear, hooked his arm over the back gate, and swung up to straddle it. Gorma had made a nest for herself amidst the crates and hogsheads. Already awake, she grinned at him mischievously.

"Wanna?" he prompted, swiveling his lean hips for emphasis. "Your Dad's gone for a bit."

Brazenly, she pulled down her sheet. She was naked, her pussy a sodden mess of bubbling Elf spunk. The cocktail of Gorma's and Sâlanu's aromas punched Lashka between the eyes. He was about to dive in face first when Gorma laid a finger over her lips.

"Watch."

Gorma dug out her book of Elf porn and laid it on a barrel. She opened her palm about two feet from it. Her eyes closed. Her lips uttered strange syllables. The book quivered. Her hand inched closer. The book hopped once, twice -- then flew into her hand.

"Wow!" said Lashka. "That's the heaviest thing yet!"

"Yep," Gorma said. She laid back. "Big cocks are magic, huh?"

"Yeah!" Lashka was swinging his leg over the gate to join her when he heard Gerynt shouting. "Fuck! I hate your Dad!" He dropped to the ground.

Gorma's head popped above the gate. "Tell Sâlanu I dreamed about him. All. Night. Long!"

Lashka blazed through the somnolent caravan like a wildfire, shaking awake those drivers who still slept, shouting hurry up, layabout! at everyone else. The cavalry escort was already saddling up their mounts and sharpening their swords. Not Sâlanu. The muscular Elven warrior looked puzzled. Breathless, Lashka bounded up to him.

"Gorma says she dreamed about you."

"Huh?" said Sâlanu, shaken out of thought. "Oh. Not surprising. I get that a lot." He stroked Lashka's tousled hair. "I dreamed about you, little guy. Did you see the Lord Aradd up there somewhere?"

"Nope. He's missing?"

"Maybe. He usually tells me when he goes off." Lips tight, Sâlanu slipped into the harness holding his scabbard and sword. "Probably back at the damn barn, pounding a fresh colt."

"Um, sir?"

A young blond man, wearing an embarrassed expression, waited behind them.

"Yes?" prompted Sâlanu.

"I, uh, think your horse got into some loco weed."

"That sounds like the Lord Aradd. Go on."

The young man scratched behind his ear. "Funniest thing. About an hour ago, he kicked me awake. He was neighing and whinnying and carrying on like you wouldn't believe. I think that locoweed made him think he could talk."

"Did he tell you anything important? Like where he went?"

"Uhhhhhh." The young man blinked. "Um. Dunno. I don't speak horse. He headed out the north gate, though."

"An hour ago?" His expression grim, Sâlanu buckled his sword harness. He strode off towards the north gate.

"You guys," Lashka yelled over his shoulder, "better be ready to roll when Gerynt calls it!"

He caught up with Sâlanu just in time to hear the guards confirm that a big white stallion had left Helmingford.

"Lashka," said Sâlanu, "Tell your master I'll rejoin the caravan as soon as I find my horse."

Lashka folded his arms defiantly and planted his feet wide. "Can't."

"Why not?"

"Gerynt thinks you're a pretty-boy sluggard, so he put me in charge of you. I gotta supervise. Wherever you go."

A smile lit up Sâlanu's face. "Then you'd better keep up with me, little guy."

The Lord Aradd's hoofprints led Lashka and Sâlanu to a bank of bent and crushed ferns. Even in the dim forest, it was easy to follow the trail. Sâlanu jogged along, but the young lad had to sprint to keep up with the long-legged Elf. They burst out of the foliage into a broad meadow bright with the dawn. The Elf knelt by a large swath of ripped-up turf.

"Breakfast began here," Sâlanu observed. He stood and moved along a path of broken grass. His keen eyes saw something off the trail. He veered over to it and knelt again, picking up and sniffing a hard, round nut. "Mango." Frowning, he turned it over in his fingers. "And something else. A charm."

"Uh-oh," said Lashka.

The stallion's trail led back into the forest. They paused at the point where his hoofprints became widely-space.

"Galloping," said Sâlanu. He pointed at a hoofprint half-overlaying a human footprint. "Who was he chasing?"

"There's some scary stuff in this forest," Lashka said.

Sâlanu ran fast as the wind, plunging through banks of orchids and vaulting fallen logs. Legs and arms pumping, Lashka struggled to keep up. Sweat streamed down his body, his lungs burned, and his side began to ache. He grew afraid of getting separated. Then, far ahead, he saw a hand waving at him to be quiet. Lashka padded his way over, joining Sâlanu between the roots of a huge walking palm. Sâlanu put his lips against Lashka's ear.

"Listen."

Barely audible over Lashka's panting was a rhythmic, gooey, gurgling noise, accompanied by an undertone of soft whinnying. Lashka recalled those spooky yarns Gerynt use to spin over the campfire: tales of man-eating plants that haunted the darkest heart of this jungle, and the gruesome deaths of unwary wayfarers. He shivered.

"Come with me," Sâlanu whispered. "But keep down.

Lashka followed Sâlanu across a wide space between two thick palm groves. They shimmied on their bellies under a bush and came up behind a toppled trunk. Sâlanu peeped over it. Lashka imitated him.

Just to the left of a long thicket lay a trio of creatures. With those saturnine faces, tangled locks, stubby horns, goatish legs, cloven hooves, and throbbing hardons, they could only be satyrs. They were a head shorter than Lashka. Three hardons jutted from their groins, and three fists blurred on each. Lakes and rivers of semen spattered their smooth torsos. Like pallid vines, more ropes of spunk swung from nearby undergrowth. Suddenly, one of the wankers thrashed in a frenzy.

"Yes yes yes!"

The satyr's hardon blasted two-foot-long gouts of sperm over his supine body. They splattered against a tree twenty feet behind him. He came so hard he banged his head against the ground, but he chortled gleefully through it.

"By the gods, it feels awesome to cum again!"

Sâlanu stood. Three horned heads turned. Three faces leered at the buckskin-clad warrior.

"An Elf!" cried the trio. "Do you bottom?"

"Not now," said Sâlanu. "Stand up, Lashka."

"Wow! A boy!" cried the trio. "Surely he bottoms!"

Nervous and intimidated by those hardons, Lashka slipped his hand into Sâlanu's.

"Not yet," Sâlanu said, grinning like a cat.

"Shit!" barked the disappointed trio.

"I am looking for a horse --"

"Kinky!"

"His name is the Lord Aradd. Have you –"

A satyr jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "In there." He plopped down onto his butt and resumed jerking off.

Behind the thicket, the big white stallion was getting blown. He seemed quite happy about it. His eyes were closed, his ears flattened, and he swished his tail as his haunches pumped. A fourth satyr knelt underneath his belly. His jaw was distended outrageously, maybe even dislocated, by the horse's plunging shaft. Ropes of mucous and gobs of spit dribbled over his chin and chest. The satyr's shriveled cock hung over a deflated nutsack like a dead snake.

"Valeria!" Lashka exclaimed.

A tad abashed, the dryad's eyelids fluttered shyly. On her lap she cradled another satyr, stroking and petting his flaccid dong. Valeria's green nipple lay only inches from his lips, yet he frowned at it like a kid threatened by a spoonful of castor oil.

"Hello, Lashka! You're not the person I expected would walk in on my little scheme."

"Scheme?" asked Sâlanu.

Valeria's smiled demurely. "As an Elf, surely you can guess what I'm up to."

Trumpeting like doomsday, the Lord Aradd blasted his load. The big stallion's massive balls pulsated as the crouching satyr gagged helplessly. With that fat, flared horsecock plugging his throat, there was no spitting anything out. The satyr's belly swelled with each spurt of horse semen. The stallion shuddered, stomped, then backed away. His rubbery cock popped free of the satyr's lips, dribbling huge white pearls. The satyr toppled onto his back, burbling like a mud volcano, and began rubbing his belly.

"My Lord Aradd," said Sâlanu. "You've given us quite a chase."

The stallion's whinnying sounded a bit defensive. The huge dome of the satyr's belly deflated as if all that horse spunk were being absorbed into his tissues. As it subsided, the satyr's cock lengthened, thickened, stiffened, and rose to a full, throbbing hardon. The beast leaped to his feet.

"Holy fucking shit, I'm alive again!!"

Pumping his fist defiantly skyward, he raced off to cavort with his three brothers.

The Lord Aradd shut Sâlanu up with a derisive snort. The stallion stomped. Valeria set down the last satyr. His eyes dull and lifeless, he knelt before the horse. Moving over him, the Lord Aradd pranced jauntily. The satyr seized the flailing horsecock, crammed the head against his lips, and a fiery light kindled in his eyes.

"Curing impotence," said Sâlanu. He studied Valeria keenly. "When did it begin?"

"Last year. When the burning star fell from the heavens. It was the ruination of our fun! All the cocks in the forest went limp! First the wood-trolls, which none of us cared about since they're so ugly. But then it was the panthers and the ocelots ... then the deer. Not even the mighty satyrs were immune! How would you like to be cut off from your favorite toy without a moment's notice? The spring was so sad. No little ones were born."

Sâlanu spoke with great intensity. "Where did the star fall?"

Valeria shuddered. "Not too near, not far enough."

"Take me there."

"Um," Lashka said, "Gerynt's probably rolling out of Helmingford right now. He's not the type who waits."

"We'll catch up, little guy. This is important."

Leaving the happily whinnying stallion to be blown by the satyr, the lad, the girl, and the Elf set off deeper into the dim forest. The land trended downhill, and the forest grew very wild. Every time Lashka pushed through a thicket, he dreaded a confrontation with a carnivorous banana tree. But the only out-of-the-ordinary thing was catching sight, far off in the gloom, of a curtain of golden sunbeams. The forest canopy had come, quite unexpectedly, to an end.

They emerged into a blasted clearing two or three miles in diameter. In it, every tree had been felled; all trunks radiated outward. Some, dead roots clutching discs of raw earth, had been wrenched out of the ground. Others, especially the ironwoods, had been snapped off their stumps, littering the clearing with foot-long splinters. Valeria ticked off the list of the names of the felled trees, lamenting the fate of her sister's dwellings.

In the center, a tall bank of heaped earth and rocks confronted them. It was twice Sâlanu's height.

"This is it," said Valeria.

Wordlessly, Sâlanu drew his sword. Though it rang like steel, the slightly curved blade was glossy black, like obsidian. Gold and crimson opalescence shimmered in the blade's depths as if exotic fish or sly serpents lurked in nighted waters. Sâlanu began to climb. Lashka scrambled after him. At the top, he gasped.

The earthen bank rimmed a huge, scorched wound that had been scooped – or blasted – into the ground. Three hundred feet wide and maybe fifty deep, not one thing grew in it, not even fungus. No birds flew over it. No insects buzz in the crater's depths. A pool of stagnant rainwater had begun to collect at the bottom.

"Creepy," said Lashka.

Studying the crater wearing an unreadable expression, Sâlanu laid a steadying hand on Lashka's shoulder. Lashka looked up at the Elf.

"You know exactly what this is, huh?"

"Exactly," said Sâlanu. "Let's get an up-close look."

The first part of their descent was steep but not difficult, for the soil was loose and clayey, making it easy to gouge hand- and footholds into the sides. Deeper in the crater, the slope shallowed, allowing them to walk. Lashka did not like being down here. He felt penned in. Trapped.

"What are we looking for?"

"A dodecahedron," answered the Elf.

Lashka blinked. "A dodeca-what-uh-what?"

"A solid with twelve sides, each side a pentagon. It will look like wrought iron. I don't know how big it is. Given the size of this crater, I'll bet it's fairly large. You search that side. I'll take this. If you see it – don't touch it. Call for me. For any reason. Understand me, little guy?"

Lashka nodded and set off, circling the pool. There was no wind down here, and the air was stagnant and stifling. Dripping sweat, he crisscrossed his part of the crater, finding only tumbled, blackened soil and sharp-edged smashed boulders of bedrock. Sâlanu, who even explored the stagnant pool, also came up empty-handed and looked angry about it.

"She's not here," he said to himself.

"Who?"

But Sâlanu was already striding towards the crater slope. Lashka, his anxiety swelling, scurried after him. Valeria waited for them at the top. Sâlanu angrily rammed his sword into the sheath. He stared down into the crater.

"Is she buried down there? If not ... where could she have gone? Where?"

"Who?" Lashka demanded angrily.

"Uklo," answered the Elf.

"Huh? Who is an Uklo?"

Sâlanu was grim.

"She was born, in those days when there was only one moon, a human. Charming, supremely intelligent, and ruthless, Uklo accumulated the majority of the Erthe's wealth. She accomplished this while young. Yet death stalked her. She set the wizards of her day building a machine into which she could move her mind. Having given up her body, she slowly came to hold in contempt those who retained theirs. For a while, she was able to restrain and hide this.

"When word came from her explorers that innumerable worlds existed amidst the forest of the stars, Uklo took the bloody path to empire. How many worlds beyond Erthe she crushed beneath her heel is unknown. With no one able to resist her, she surrendered to her hatred of the Incarnate. Many if not most of these other worlds were peopled with thinking species like humanity. These she treated with vicious cruelty. But not her kin, humanity. Humans were so charmed and mesmerized by Uklo they didn't understand how deeply enslaved to her they'd become. They plunged sacrificial knives into non-human bodies, spilling on her altar oceans of alien blood, and never questioned their overlord's dictates."

"What did the Elves do?" cried Lashka.

"In that age, there were no Elves."

"Huh. So what happened? Why is she back?"

"The stars revolted. Her empire tottered and fell. Erthe's sky was filled with battle. For a year and a day, it is said, the siege was so fierce Erthe had no night. In desperation, Uklo had the dodecahedron that held her essence placed on her greatest ship. She launched into the void. The ship was destroyed, the battle lost. Humanity, as creators and willing slaves of the greatest devil known to the cosmos, was wiped out."

Head reeling from all this, Lashka stammered. "Um. Um. Why did they wipe out humanity? And not Uklo?"

"Humanity was at hand and complicit in the crimes of their absent master. As for Uklo, she was thought destroyed with her ship. But she, as the Elves have been told, survived the explosion and was thrown far from the Erthe, circling the Sun on the fringe where his grasp is weak. When the stars came right again, her path intersected the Erthe's, and she fell. Here."

"And who told the Elves?" Lashka demanded.

"Why, the Lord Aradd, of course," answered the Elf. "You see, in his sexual frenzies, he is prone to visions."

"Um," asked Lashka, "if humans were destroyed ... why am I here?"

"That's a big mystery." The Elf shrugged. "In this age of the world, we're embedded in a process of continuous creation. Why is a failed experiment being redone? Not even the Seers of the Elves know, little guy."

"This is ... spooky."

"It is." Sâlanu began working his way down the crater rim. "Nothing more can be done here. Let's get back to the Lord Aradd."

Lashka walked numbly behind the big warrior. Absorbed by the practical necessities of being Gerynt's factotum, he had never thought about things like metaphysics, history, and evil. It seemed that, if he was going to be a Wolf Brother, that must change.

The five satyrs were involved in complex buttsex while the Lord Aradd, hard and dripping, ogled them. A pair disengaged and began humping Valeria's leg. As the stallion listened to a murmuring Sâlanu, his heavy dong retreated into its sheath, which made Lashka mourn a little. Although the immense thing had frightened him last night ... it would be terrible living in a world without hardons. Lashka felt his first twinge of hatred for this ... this Uklo. Anyone who made dongs go limp was vile.

"Little man! Let's catch up with the caravan."

Sâlanu sprang onto the white stallion's back and extended his hand. Taking it, Lashka was drawn up and set behind the Elven warrior. It was a thrilling moment. His cheek rested between Sâlanu's shoulder blades. He felt the throbbing of the Lord Aradd's heart under his thighs. Sâlanu grinned at him over his shoulder.

"What's that poking my back, little guy?"

"Hey!" Lashka giggled. `I'm growing up!" He laced his fingers low across the Elf's hard belly. The lad felt buckskin against his hands, and the firm, fleshy, and massive cock under it.

"Bye, Valeria!" Lashka cried. "See you when we come through again!"

The dryad, crouching doggy style, was absorbing a satyr's rapid strokes from behind. Though she threw Lashka a bright look, her reply was choked off as the other satyr's cock filled her throat. Spitted like a pig, the dryad humped contentedly.

Sâlanu's heels tapped the Lord Aradd's flanks. They were off, heading a little east of due south. Lashka, swaddled in the whiskey-soaked oak smell of Sâlanu's armpits, floated along in a testosterone dream. The Elf's abdominal muscles, responding to the Lord Aradd's cantering, flowed and surged in the circle of the lad's arms. Memories of what had happened in the barn last night swarmed Lashka's mind. Still clutching the waist with one arm, Lashka explored Sâlanu's thigh. He stroked the outer part, striated with muscle, smooth as satin and rock hard. The Elf shifted a bit when Lashka cupped his chiseled buttock; the lad didn't understand he was being invited to explore further. But no lad could resist the temptation of a warrior's powerful inner thighs. Lashka was toying with the ragged edge of the buckskin flap when Sâlanu's voice woke him.

"Little man?"

Lashka merely hugged his dream tighter.

"Little man, you keep groping me, and something's going to happen you'll never forget."

"Yeah? What? You gonna do those nice things to me?"

"You bet," Sâlanu growled. "But we can't. Not now. The Lord Aradd says he won't carry us all across the river."

"Huh? What river?"

Tail swishing, the Lord Aradd stood on the banks of a small, swift-flowing river. Verdant trees leaned over grassy banks, and water lilies grew thick in the shallows. Lashka slid off the stallion, followed by Sâlanu. The Lord Aradd neighed, Sâlanu neighed back, and the horse waded into the river.

"I wish I understood what the Lord Aradd was saying," said Lashka, watching the horse swim towards the far bank.

"Oh, that's easy," said Sâlanu. "All you have to do is let the Lord Aradd kiss you."

"Huh?" Lashka, astonished, blinked rapidly. "A horse? Kissing a boy?"

"It happens a lot more than you'd think. And, just like me, Lord Aradd wants to do much more than a kiss."

"Huh?"

Eyes blazing, Sâlanu's fingertips descended the curves of the lad's spine. The warrior's hand caressed Lashka's butt, cupping the right cheek as if asserting ownership. Gently, his fingertips wormed under Lashka's sagging waist wrap, stroking the intimate space where smooth boy thigh transitioned into smooth boy butt.

"So," crooned Sâlanu. "Do you want the Lord Aradd to kiss you?"

The big white stallion floundered up the far bank. The horse began shaking off excess water. Suddenly, a loathsome creature crashed through a thicket. The Lord Aradd darted away from the panting monstrosity, which paused and flexed fists hanging from disproportionately long arms.

"Tho! The Lord Aradd! Valeria thaid you were around, but the little thlut was tho vague!"

The wood-troll was hideous. His skin was translucent white, suggesting melted candle wax. Eighteen-inch deflated troll boobs, from which dry skin flaked like lichen, hung over his belly. His face was hideously asymmetrical; he owned two beady little eyes on the right, a large angry one blazed in the left socket. His shoulders were bulkier and stronger even than Sâlanu's, though his penis swung below his heavy paunch like a shriveled vine.

"Jutht a thuck!" lisped the wood-troll. "Jutht one thuck. That'th all I want from you!" He waggled a dry, raspy tongue. "Thee? I'm an ekthpert!"

The stallion neighed defiantly. Head down, the wood-troll charged him. The Lord Aradd pivoted and kicked. Amazingly, the wood-troll caught both hooves, heaved, twisted -- and threw the Lord Aradd onto his back. The stallion flailed and screamed as the wood-troll wrenched apart his hind legs. Troll spit, green as swamp slime, stained the Lord Aradd's magnificent sack.

"Thuch big ballth!" the wood-troll hissed. "Maybe a thuck for the cure and a thuck for the road!"

"Stay here, little guy!"

Splash! Sâlanu's dive carried him halfway across the river. A few strokes and he was charging up the bank. His sword rang as he drew it. The warrior Elf dropped into a fighting crouch.

"Let go the horse!" Sâlanu roared. "Release him, and I'll let you go free!"

The wood-troll glared but let go. The Lord Aradd began struggling to stand.

"His thpunk doethn't belong to you, Elf!"

Leading with talons like amber knives, the wood-troll lunged for Sâlanu. Sâlanu remained rooted in place until the last instant, then leaped aside like a mongoose dodging a cobra. His eldritch blade swung as the wood-troll rumbled past, leaving behind a trail of blood on his shoulder. Panting, Sâlanu whirled, his blade upraised over his right shoulder.

"Give up!" he called. "It's now or never! I don't want to kill you!"

"Thkrew you, you panthy Elf!" roared the wood-troll. "I – oomph!"

Having recovered, the Lord Aradd's trademark pirouette-and-kick move sent the stunned wood-troll cartwheeling into the river.

"Thyit!" The wood-troll spat blood and stumbled to his feet. "Fucking thneeky horth!"

Sâlanu, every muscle in his boss body quivering with tension, advanced, leading with the point of his obsidian-and-opalescent blade.

"Back off! Go away! And all is forgiven!"

"Thtop actng tho noble! You jutht want hith jithm all for yourthelf!"

Roaring, the wood-troll charged. Sâlanu misgauged his enemy's speed and ferocity and swung too late. One massive hand seized his neck, the other his sword arm, and Sâlanu crashed onto his back. The wood-troll crouched atop him, all eyes blazing as he throttled the Elf's throat. Sâlanu `s eyes bulged, and a blueish tinge mottled his handsome face.

It was now or never. Lashka leaped into the river. His fingers scrabbled through the muck and entangling water lily roots. He dug out a big round stone, stood, and hurled it by instinct. Thwock. It bounced off the wood-troll's head. A trident of malevolent eyes skewered Lashka.

"Thay! Thuch a hot chicken! After I thuck the thtallion'th thiffie – your tight little ath ith mine – ow! Fuck!!"

Sâlanu rammed his knee into the wood-troll's crotch. Howling with fury and pain, the beast rolled off the Elf. He charged for Lashka. Terrified, Lashka's feet churned, but they slipped on the muddy bottom, and he went under. The whole world thundered with the wood-troll's pounding feet. Lashka broke the surface. Guts cold, he faced the troll, knowing he'd royally fucked up.

Sâlanu's fierce face loomed over the wood-troll's shoulder. His blade swung. The upper half of the wood-troll's skull spun away like a discus. The twitching body crashed face-first down the bank, brains like curds of ground sausage spilling everywhere. Sâlanu stood astride the convulsing corpse, sword lifted to strike.

"I gave you every chance!" he bellowed at the corpse. "Why didn't you surrender?" He sighed grimly, then shot a fierce look at Lashka. "Thanks, little man."

The Lord Aradd, wild terror still haunting his eyes, nuzzled the black-haired Elf. Sâlanu spoke soothingly, caressing him and scratching his chest. Realizing how upsetting the attack had been for the stallion, Lashka swam to the other bank. Gently, he laid a palm on the trembling horse. The Lord Aradd licked at it. Lashka giggled softly.

"Don't like every kind of sex, huh, Lord Aradd?"

There was a softness in the Lord Aradd's eyes Lashka hadn't thought the powerful stallion owned. The lad's mind raced. Was this something he wanted to do? Gently, he cupped the horse's chin.

"Um ... would you kiss me, Lord Aradd."

The stallion, both ears focused on Lashka, looked thunderstruck. The horse's head lifted. His eyes flicked to Sâlanu, who stared at Lashka. Then he trotted away, tail swishing.

"Why won't he kiss me?" Lashka asked.

"Shhh," said Sâlanu.

The big white stallion circled back. He strutted towards the lad, bouncing a little on his forehooves as if he'd recovered a bit of his accustomed arrogance. The stallion's big face moved in slowly.

"Well," said Lashka. "This is it."

He clasped his hands protectively over his buttocks and shut his eyes. Moist, hot snuffling began in Lashka's armpits. The stallion let out a rumbling whicker. The snuffling crossed his chest, lingered on his neck, then circled his lips. The Lord Aradd's big tongue swiped Lashka's jaw.

"Open your mouth, little man. It's that kind of kiss."

"Oh – ungh!"

The stallion's tongue filled Lashka's mouth. It was warm, so much warmer than his own body, and slimy, and wiggly. Lashka's little tongue, obeying an instinct the lad hadn't known he possessed, attempted to duel with the equine invader. Its strength and authority crushed his attempt. How tiny and frail Lashka was in the shadow of the stallion. And yet – how lucky he was to be here.

"Look at him, little man."

The Lord Aradd's eyes smoldered across the length of his muzzle. Gauzy tenderness had vanished. Those were dangerous orbs of hot iron; who could guess how searing they could get? Steam from his nostrils caressed Lashka's face.

"Take all he gives you, Lashka."

The tip of the stallion's tongue toyed with that thing hanging at the back of the lad's throat, then he jammed his tongue deep. It felt like a fat worm squirming its way inside, but the lad, intoxicated by the lovely crimson madness blazing in those eyes, welcomed the feeling of suffocation. Of drowning in another's soul. His heart raced. He didn't gag when something began toying with his vocal cords. Beating hearts thundered in his mind. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

The heat of the horse vanished. Cool air flowed into his lungs. Lashka smelled the forest, the river, Sâlanu, and the stallion. He smiled bashfully.

"Hello, Lord Aradd."

"Howdy, Lashka," said the horse. "Let me tell you something. Ever since I laid eyes on you, I dream about your tight little butt more than I dream about mangos!"

Lashka grinned. "Yeah? Really?"

The stallion kissed Lashka's nose. "I want to get to know you in the worst way, boy. The worst way."

Smiling sunnily, Sâlanu stroked the stallion's neck. "Enough, my lord. I called dibs, remember?"

"Ignore him, Lashka," said the Lord Aradd. "He's an idiot. Let me be your first. I know how to do a young lad right. I'm more of a fucker than a fighter. Tell him, Sâlanu!"

Sâlanu laughed. "Enough! Let's ride; we've been delayed enough already." He grabbed Lashka by the shoulders. "I'm proud of you, little brother."

The ride through the forest was pleasant. The Lord Aradd filled Lashka in on many details about that horrible star that had fallen burning from the sky.

"The more I hear," said Lashka, "the more I hate her! She's against sex?"

"Yup," said the Lord Aradd.

"Uklo lacks a body she can use for sex," said Sâlanu, "but lust is a part of the mind, and she took that with her into the prison of her dodecahedron."

"What an idiot!" said Lashka.

"Don't worry, kiddo," said the Lord Aradd. "You've fallen in with the right crowd! I'm her enemy."

"That's kind of weird," said Lashka. "A horse against a do-do-decahedron? Sheesh!"

"Think about it, kiddo. Who better to oppose a dried-up, life-hating maniac from a dead age than a fine young stud with a three-foot cock and balls to match?"

They encountered a road winding south through the forest. The Lord Aradd studied the fresh ruts and informed them the caravan had already passed. The Lord Aradd rode like a storm, showing off for the delighted, laughing boy and the delighted, laughing Elf. Sâlanu `s long black hair whipping in his face, Lashka clutched that lean waist tightly. He was going to be a part of this song of sweat, steel, sunshine, and spunk forever.

They closed the caravan quickly. Grinning, Sâlanu guided the Lord Aradd through the whooping cavalrymen, along the line of plodding wagons, finally swinging Lashka over to Gerynt's wagon with one arm.

"Where the hell have you been, you skinny layabout?" yelled Gerynt.

"I'm captain of cavalry," said Lashka, plopping his butt on a crate behind Gorma. "I was supervising."

He didn't get a chance to tell Gorma about his adventures until dusk, when the caravan swung into a clearing to camp for the night. The clearing was on high ground. The forest rolled away like a dark green sea, but the distant horizon was tinged by the light green of the Saurian Steppes.

Lashka was a bit bashful about admitting to snogging the Lord Aradd, but he figured that if Gorma had already committed bestiality with Sâlanu, a little kissy-kissy with a horse didn't amount to much. His confession electrified Gorma, and her eyes glowed brightly. Like maybe she wanted to kiss the Lord Aradd herself.

In the pit of the night, a strange noise woke Lashka. Puzzled, he listened. It sounded like the whirring of a windmill in a stiff breeze – no! It sounded more like the whirring of four or five windmills in a stiff breeze. He crawled from beneath the wagon and looked up, for the sound came from the sky.

If it hadn't flown across the face of the Third Moon, he wouldn't have seen the strange thing. But it did, and when it cleared that moon, he was still able to follow the oblong shape as, one by one, it eclipsed stars. Dim silvery light limned it. It reminded him of a fish, a huge, fat fish with a round nose and an elongated body. There were fins on the tail, and streamlined protuberances were fixed to its belly. It didn't swish side-to-side; it held a rigid, fixed course across the sky.

Lashka darted to the silhouettes of warrior and horse. "What is it?"

"A spy, I fear," answered the Lord Aradd.

The depraved world of The Brothers of the Beasts will be further explored in Chapter 4 "Saga of the Outlaw Brethren, Part 1"

© 2019 R. Keith Peck