Chapter Three

ATRIEL WAS A FINE HORSE just as Aelir had claimed.

Several days into the trip, we had covered good ground. We could have been further along if I had been willing to run her harder, but I wasn’t. Galloping at breakneck speed would only tire her out and possibly make her lame, which would only slow us down. Also, she was a mellow lady who preferred a gentle hand and a pleasant trot. Yes, I was anxious, and when we had a good road free of divots and washouts, I would give her some head, but overall, we kept a steady pace. The cityscape had faded at the end of our first day, opening up into farmlands as far as the eye could see. It took many acres to feed a vill the size of Renedith. Most of the wild trees had been cut down hundreds of years ago, but even so, the open fields of beans and orchards filled with crisp apples and green pears were freeing. I felt more myself, a child of the glens as the humans liked to call us.

The farmlands were now giving way to the edges of the vast Verboten woods. Fields of hay butted up against thin woodlands with skinny saplings along the hedgerows filled with heavy rocks plowed up by the elves who worked the land.

Nin kept close vigil. At the end of the second day, after my horse had been tended to, I whistled to him as I made camp along a crystalline brook several hundred paces from the main road north. I pulled out a sheaf of rich vellum from the castle, sat down on my bedroll, and jotted down my location while the bird flittered down to pick at the carcass of a rabbit crushed under what looked to be wagon wheel tracks.

Then I sent the raven off. The night swallowed him quickly. I’d not lit a fire as the evening was temperate, and I wished not to draw any attention. I ate a ration of berries, some dense bread, and a small elven cream tart, slightly smashed and leaking thick cream, that I was sure Aelir had swiped and hidden among my things. Each bite made me smile. I did sorely miss that boy.

The trees nearby were peaceful, the night sky filled with fireflies dancing over the leaf litter that cushioned my thin sleeping roll. I wiped my fingers on my trousers before lying down to stare at the stars peeking at me through the openings of the leaves. Sleep quickly arrived. My dreams unsettled dark things filled with living statuary that shambled after me as I tried to run but could not.

I came awake with a start at dawn, Atriel and Nin staring at me as I kicked at my covers. Once I saw that I was not in the death grip of a fiend with granite skin, I calmed, but my heart thundered madly.

“Dreams,” I told my companions before I freed myself of my bedding, sat back on my heels, and prayed. Brow to the dewy grass, I asked my goddess to guide me to the Black Lake to find this old man. And to have him be in able-enough shape to ride a horse. Or a mule. Or even a burly mountain goat like the dwarves rode down the slopes of the Witherhorn Mountains. If Danubia heard me or not, I could not say.

By lunch, I knew she had. I’d ridden past a small farmstead where a young girl was playing alongside the road with a scraggly puppy. I stopped, slid from the saddle, and kneeled in the dirt to speak with the child while petting the dog. The pup was happy, his emotions those of pure love for the tiny elven girl in the dirty dress. When I asked about a temple or a black lake, she pointed me into the forest and then ran off to her mother’s call. I waved at the pale elven woman. She did not return the gesture.

Knowing that it was time to move on, I climbed back onto Atriel, head high despite the shun. We rode into the forest, the shade cooler, and followed a deer path that wove through tall pines, leggy birch, and stoic red-bark beech. I spied birds, hares, and a shy, tawny fox. The air here was pure. I could feel its effects on me. Soothing and regenerative. The woods spoke to my people as a mother does her children. With love.

We broke from the trees into a glade where a domed stone temple stood, its walls and roof covered with moss and flowering vines. My heart soared at the sight of Danubia, carved from a white oak, standing with her arms open, flowers thick at the base of her carved likeness. It had been so long since I’d seen my goddess other than the small replica I carried that it brought tears to my eyes. I dismounted, letting Atriel graze on the lush grass. Danubia would not mind. Nin flew overhead, cackling down at me, his call one of mild curiosity.

I moved to the statue, dropped to my knees, and rested my forehead on the ground.

“Glorious Danubia,

Judge my actions with your splendor and grace as I serve you,

Hold tight my hand and my heart while I stand guard in your name and your service,

So that I may bask in your approval as the forest sings your praise.”

Her reply was the song of the grouse, the rustle of the leaves, and the metallic scent of water on the wind. I sat for a moment in supplication, drinking in the healing touch of this place. Truly, if I could tend a temple such as this one like the doddering archdruid that I had come here to fetch did, I would spend the rest of my days in happiness. Nin flew down to hop along beside me, his clever eyes watching. I noted the lack of a missive on his leg as I stood and entered the temple. It was a simple one as all of those to Danubia were. We were not the city elves. Our goddess did not require white marble or gold-encrusted chalices. Our goddess asked only that you love and serve her by tending to her children.

Shade filled the temple. I stepped inside. In the center of the round room was a spring that burbled out of a stone fountain, the crystal clear water bubbling up around the feet of a large deer with antlers wide and thick. In the beast’s wide chest sat a fat blue gem, pulsing with magical powers. Ah, so this was a temple tended by druids of the Cervus clan who could shift into an elk. Danubia had blessed our people with the knowledge of how to change our bodies into four of her blessed beasts. Elk, bear, panther, and eagle. Cervus, Ursus, Felis, and Aquila.

Each form was available to each druid, but it took hundreds of years of intense study to master. All children of the woods choose the path they wish to learn, or they may choose to become learned in other fields such as healing, earth prowess, or tending to a grove of Danubia exclusively. Most generally, the extremely old druids took care of the temples of their chosen genus as it was easy work.

This temple was clean, filled with offerings at the base of the fountain, and airy. To the sides were benches carved from fallen trees where one could sit and meditate. Small stubby candles sat in low bowls whittled from wood and behind the fountain was a roughhewn bed, a small desk and chair, and a wardrobe crafted from yellow ash that glowed like the sun.

No sight of the elderly archdruid who lived here, though. I left the temple, Nin in the trees now cawing at me with vigor. I followed the bird as he took to wing, walking a worn path through the woods to the edge of an oval lake filled with water as black as Nin’s feathers.

I skidded to a halt when my eyes touched on the back of a man with chestnut hair lounging in the ebony waters. His head craned around. I locked my gaze with eyes as blue as the eggs found in a jay’s nest. He rose out of the water. My eyes flared as he turned to face me, his body slick with water that ran over a barrel chest covered with reddish-brown hair. I’d never seen a man so well made. His legs and arms were thick with muscle, his shoulders as wide as a castle doorway, and his cock, even flaccid as it was now, hung down the inside of his thigh. My mouth went dry as he strode from the lake, a smile now breaking out on his handsome face. A face that, while lived in, was striking. He bore a small scar on his chin, but that only added to his appeal in my eyes.

“Ah, you must be the envoy from the city, Kenton, yes?” His voice was deep as thunder. My eyes darted from his mouth to his ears. Pointed, but just so not full elf. His skin was pale as well, but thickly furred, which most elven kind were not. He was far too tall to carry dwarven blood in that statured body, so my assumption was he was half-elf and half-human. A mixing that took place quite often in the vills where the humans lived close to the elves.

“I am yes,” I managed to squeak out all too aware of how this man was making my cock swell in my trousers. I’d thought the juggler had been a fine-looking man, and he had been, but he was nothing in comparison to this male. I longed to run my fingers through his hair to work out the tangles as he tucked me close to his wide chest. “I seek the archdruid Beirach Dreyath as requested by Umeris Stillcloud.”

His celestial blue eyes dipped to the pin on my shirt collar. “Yes, the raven said you would wear the brooch bearing his family crest.”

He seemed unabashed of his nudity, a trait among shifters. They grew used to being in fur or feather, according to my father, who was an Ursus shifter. Also, they shredded their trousers while transforming, so nudity seemed more prudent. Adding to that, the majority of the children of the woods lived as nature intended most of the time. The confines of stately cloaks, breeches, or even a simple dress was unneeded in the summer season.

Truly, I had been in the city for too long judging by my reaction to seeing a bared man. But by the gentle heart of the goddess, this was no mere naked man. He was the most beautiful man I had ever seen.

“If you could direct me to the archdruid…” I said while shifting from one foot to the other in hopes of hiding the stiffness in my pants.

“You are looking at him,” the man said, water droplets running down his chest to tease his stiff cinnamon nipples. I longed to flick that water from the tight nub with my tongue as he—

My sight flew from his chest to his smiling eyes. Thick red-brown lashes framed his eyes. Eyes that a man could tumble into like a forest pond and lounge in forever.

“You’re…”

“I am,” he teased, flashing me a smile filled with white teeth. “I imagine you were looking for a wizened old crone or some ancient, stooped graybeard?”

“I…yes, forgive me, but you are not at all…” My eyes roamed over him greedily. His thick cock twitched. My face grew hot. I moved back a step as he folded strong arms over his chest, his eyes soft now, gentle as I fumbled to speak. “I am…apologies, Elder Dreyath.”

My eyes fell to the rocky shore of the lake out of respect for his station and to aid me in trying to gather my scattered wits.

“Please, my name is Beirach. I ask you to use that instead of some title I long ago left behind.”

“I…of course. Beirach.” His name felt like warm honey on my tongue. “I have arrived.”

“So I see,” he replied before bending to pluck a basket filled with berries from a rock to my left that I had not seen. How could I have? My entire being had been centered on the archdruid from the moment he had risen from the lake. “Umeris informed me of the situation in a missive. I’m not sure it is me that he should be seeking out as it has been many years since I was called upon in any capacity other than dusting the temple and scolding the ground squirrels that like to steal my morning bread.” I felt lightheaded when he took the lead back to the temple. His ass was firm, high, and flexed with each step. “Let me dress and gather my satchels, then we may set off. The sooner we reach your bosk, the sooner we may find a way to aid any who may be afflicted.”

I fell in behind him, working at calming the raging lust addling my thoughts.

“So Umeris told you of the sickness,” I said aloud while Nin circled over us.

“He did as did some of his highest alchemists. We are all in agreement that what we are looking at may be something far more nefarious.”

That brought me up short. “You feel this was done on purpose?”

He nodded, his bare feet carrying him into the temple as he scattered the berries to the ground. Small field mice, chipmunks, and gray-speckled sparrows arrived within a heartbeat. My eyes moved from the woodland visitors to Beirach, who was bending over to place the basket under his desk. I spun to stare at the elk fountain. My cock thickened even more.

“It bears the marks of a necromantic spell.”

My blood ran cold. “But why would a dark mage strike out at druids?”

“That is what we will find out.” His tone had lost the playfulness it previously had. I stared at a clump of butterflies, a dozen or so at least, fluttering into the shaded interior to light on the sides of the fountain to drink. Fine mist rose into slim sunbeams. “Perhaps we are overreacting. I do not wish for you to imagine things to be worse than they may be for your people.”

“No, of course not,” I whispered in reply, my throat thick with worry. Necromancy. Magicks of the dead. A form of study that all children of the woods were forbidden to take up for it went against the very nature of things. Creatures died, they fell, they rotted, and became one with the soil. Higher souls, such as elves, joined Danubia and were placed back into vessels of fur, fin, feather, or fauna. Some were picked to venture back into the woodlands as newborn elves. This was the way of Danubia. Those who used magicks to raise the dead or bring about blights that destroyed the goddess’s offspring were considered evil to the extreme.

A hand fell to my shoulder, large, strong, settling. I glanced back to see Beirach behind me, unease on his face.

“I did not mean to worry you overly. I am sorry. I tend to speak my mind when I should practice discretion. That is what comes from living alone for so long.”

I worked up a smile that seemed to lift the distress from his eyes. Eyes that had fine lines of age that appealed to me greatly.

“I am too sensitive,” I answered, his hand giving my shoulder a soft squeeze before disappearing. “I feel things strongly.”

“I sensed that about you. You project great emotions. That is not a thing to feel shame over, Kenton. Empathy connects us to others in ways that mere speech cannot at times.”

I nodded silently, watching as he pulled on armor crafted from dark wood. A chest plate, pauldrons, greaves, and matching bracers over trousers and a woolen shirt. His boots were supple green leather with sturdy soles. He gathered an old staff from the corner, one bound in vines and strands of leather with a thick elk antler resting on its top. The antler pulsed with a latent power that felt much like a heartbeat. The rhythm had a familiar chord to it that tugged at a long-buried memory, but I could not place where or when I had heard that steady pulse. Perhaps the remembrance was staying hidden due to the wash of lust soaking my brain.

He was magnificent. I stood in awe, my eyes moving over him several times while he gathered up two cloth sacks that clinked when he slung them over his shoulder. His hair was damp still as it fell down his back to his backside. He talked amiably as he packed.

“I hope you have some healing skills. Mine are low grade as I spent a goodly amount of my time learning to shape myself into the elk spirit.”

“I have some basic spells, yes, and I can craft potions from items found in the woods. Danubia provides for her children.”

“That she does.” His smile made my heart beat oddly. “Let me gather my ride and we will go,” he said, then tipped his head to the side. “We will arrive in time, Kenton.” I bobbed my head, grateful for his kindness. “Come, let us ride. We have many rough miles to go to find your village.”

We moved outside, around the temple, where a small but sturdy shelter stood back among some weathered spruce. A large brown gelding awaited us, fully saddled.

I stood back as he secured his belongings into saddlebags. The flash of sun off a delicate gold flute caught my eye before it disappeared into the bag.

“I assumed you would travel in your animal form,” I said and got a lovely smile as he ran a hand down the horse’s long neck. His gaze found mine.

“While I can run faster than Methril for short distances, he surpasses me in distance journeys. Someday I shall let you ride me through the woods if you wish to be exhilarated.”

My mouth turned dry as parchment. Did the man know that his words could be taken in a sensual context? Surely not. He was an archdruid. Granted, a young one, but an archdruid of considerable standing. Those in Renedith knew of him, so no, he had simply made an offhanded comment. My mind was still awash in lust, that was all.

“My horse is…” I jerked a shaky thumb over my shoulder, only to jump when Atriel nuzzled my throat. “My horse is here.”

The dapple mare and the brown gelding rubbed noses. “She is a rare beauty.” I nodded as I slid my foot into a stirrup. I was immensely happy to have such a robust and eye-pleasing companion.

Not that my thoughts should be of his fine profile or the way he looked fresh from the lake. Surely that was not fitting a man of his stature, but goddess blessed, he was lovely to view beside me. It would be a long, uncomfortable ride with my cock at half-mast the entire trip. Perhaps a crooked old crone with halitosis would have been better after all.

Over the next few days, I began to learn a great deal about Beirach Dreyath.

Everything I discovered made me admire him more. Not a good situation to be in as we had a dire objective that required our full attention. Whimsical notions of soft kisses, warm embraces, and his large body pressing mine into the leafy ground were rather shameful of me, but I could no easier stop them than I could cease breathing.

Beirach was a pleasant companion, not only in looks but in personality.

He had more stories of past adventures than there were birds in the trees. As we rode, he kept me entertained with tales of bravery, tomfoolery, and danger. He had lived a full life, rife with travels, until for some reason, nearing his last century, he simply stopped. There was no explanation forthcoming during our rides. It struck me as odd that an archdruid of his caliber and vast involvement with teaching young druids and battling the forces of darkness that sought to snuff out nature’s light would suddenly retire.

Obviously, he was hearty and hale. He rode well. He ate with gusto. While neither of us partook of meat, our dinners were always robust, for he made fine stews and soups from the stores in his satchels and what we found in the ever-thickening woods. The man also played Fish the Pond with something akin to glee. I’d only ever played the card game with Aelir, and so had no knowledge of just how vigorous most adults grew over a simple game where one matched different suits of cards.

Every night we played and every night he cleared out my cache of berries and tree nuts. Granted, the berries and nuts were fed back to me the next eve, so while I lost, I still won, for my cooking talents were nonexistent.

Also, the bear of a man slept like the undead and snored loudly. It was a sound that quieted the woods and kept my eyes wide open. Finally, when I nearly fell asleep on horseback, I suggested we take vigils keeping watch. The Verboten had enveloped us, and while I feared little in the forest, outlaws and thieves were known to prowl the trails. Many set up camps in the old-growth woods, for it was so dense that it was nigh impossible for the local town guards to ferret out the bandits. I now slept with the silver daggers under my bedding just in case.

He thought it a wise idea, so we began to take turns tending the low fire as the other slept. My time on guard was spent trying not to stare for hours at the man splayed out beside the fire, his long thick leg resting outside his blanket, his chestnut hair freed from any bonds, and his impressive chest on display as it rose and fell with his thunderous breaths.

One of the things I learned about Beirach was that he slept in the nude. I’d not done so for many years, for city elves wore thin sleep shirts to bed. Also, I had a young friend who suffered sleep terrors and would, unexpectedly, climb into my bed for succor. So nudity was out of the question in Renedith even though I had been raised with it as common course.

It became quite obvious that I was a poor guard when just last night, as Beirach lay snoring, his blanket tangled in his legs, our camp was invaded. My eyes had been lingering on his cock resting comfortably by his heavy balls. A thicket of reddish-brown curls grew around the base of his meaty shaft. With the horses asleep behind me and Nin roosted in a dead yellow pine several yards away, I let my mind wander. My imagination took over and soon I was lost in a heated fantasy rife with questing hands, hot mouths, and long fat pricks. My hand had slid into my trousers, found my rigid shaft, and was massaging it when a snuffling black boar with yellowed tusks as long as my forearm charged through camp. The horses reared and cried out in fright. The boar ran around the firepit, knocking over the leftover leek soup that we would have had for breakfast. I jerked my hand from my shaft, face as red as the coals in the fire. Beirach sat up, motions slowed with sleep, and flung a muzzy look at me.

“I dozed off,” I lied, my prick throbbing with need, my cheeks hot. I crossed my legs to hide the pole in my pants.

“Looks as if we shall have flat bread and dried berry strips to break our fast,” he sleepily said and fell back to his bedroll to begin snoring once more, his body bared to my hungry eyes. I bit back a groan at his nude form as I crawled to my bedroll.

I buried my face in the rolled-up shirt I used as a pillow and tried my best to ignore the wet spot in my underclothes.