Tristan's Nightmare

Tristan, still prostrated on the bed, was plagued with images of the Eversio he had seen in the town. The man taunted him with a bright shining smile of sinister flames. His eyes flashed with fires of destruction, bright but black as the conflagrations, which tore at the town Tristan escaped. There was an imposing figure, vast and suffocating, behind the Eversio. Past the embers of his fiery hair, stood a dark and consuming shadow, whose clouds hovered around the Eversio. The Eversio lifted his arms to the sky and the shadow surrounded the man. The fiery haired Eversio screamed in agony, his face was twisted in anger and fear, in greed and desperation. The fire of his hair was drowned in midnight flesh. Fluid black eyes broke the cloud and Tristan could see Necis laughing over the world.

Fear and agony coursed through Tristan’s body. He fought to gain consciousness. Aware, but unable to break free, he clenched his hands and pointed his toes. He struggled to move, and his body shook as if it were chained to the bed. He growled but his throat wouldn’t move. Frantic fires raged through Tristan as he fought to gain control. Gasping, Tristan was able to open his eyes. Blurry and spinning, the world was a splash of colors to Tristan, nauseated and depressed. He groaned and turned on his side. Stomach lurching, he fought the urge to vomit.

Necis walked toward Tristan. He brushed his fingers along the side Tristan’s body and chuckled. Necis approached the feature shifting creature, “Spero, follow me.” He walked past the young man with red eyes, “Caecus, come with me.” Coming to the boy, Necis kneeled and rested a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“Giles you should run and be free for you have little time to be so . . . pity that you won’t.” Necis erupted in a malicious laugh before standing and letting his body be surrounded by a black cloud. When the clouds subsided he wore a black cloak. Arms held loosely outward he walked from the room. The remnants of the cloud drifted over Spero and Caecus, who followed Necis closely. Clothes of red silk and gold lining materialized from the mist around Spero’s body, now feminine. Caecus wore a black tunic. He was adorned with sliver chains holding red jewels and he had piercings in various places. Several silver loops around his ears, a single ring in his lip, as well as two silver ear rings, which were effigies of the Crying God. In a triangle they left the room and walked down the hall. Past them ran a slither of white light.

A slender boy the color of snow slipped into the room. He stared in shock at the body of Viregna, relief spread over his face like ripples in a lake. He wore only a tunic, white as his flesh. On his tired feet were old worn out leather slippers. He was perhaps thirteen, short and small for his age. He was thin and every muscle was defined because of his lack of fat. He had short blond hair, which hung about his head loosely. His eyes were a light green. He approached Tristan. Placing a hand on Tristan’s shoulder he said, “Tristan . . . wake up.”

The stir of familiarity forced Tristan to groan, “that was you . . . you tried to stop my fall . . . I felt your hand brush me as I descended into this world . . . I heard you call my name. What’s your name?”

“Wyn . . . Tristan, it’s time to leave, we are both free now of Viregna’s clutches.”

Tristan rolled way, “I don’t care, leave me alone.”

“Tristan,” Wyn grabbed Tristan’s shoulder gently. “Listen to me, everything will be alright . . . please Tristan we have to go.”

Tristan didn’t move, he was receding into his mind. Wyn left the bed. He returned with clothes. He threw them on Tristan. “Get dressed.” Wyn then crouched next to Giles. In a sweet voice Wyn spoke to Giles, “Let me help you.” Wyn slipped tan pants onto the boy and helped Giles into a white cotton shirt. Tristan glanced over at Wyn and grudgingly dressed in a elegant silk blue robe, decorated with white images of birds. Around his waist, Tristan tightened a black sash. Wyn walked over to Tristan and pulled his arm, “Come on now.” Tristan stood unwillingly. Hopelessness darkened his eyes.

“What’s the use, it doesn’t matter where I go, I’ll always be rapped,” Tristan spat.

“Damn it Tristan I can help you, its not hopeless!”

Tristan grunted and began walking out of the room. Wyn grabbed Giles hand and rushed out of the room. Wyn guided him through Viregna’s palace, vast, beautiful, and empty. Grand columns supported an ornate white roof. Numerous statues of beasts, warriors, spirits, and the Crying God, filled the palace with soulless entities. Wyn whispered, “this palace is attended by violent spirits, walk silently and we will not be molested. They will be concerned about the death of their empress, if we do not interfere they will pass us by.”

Walking through the halls countless shadows flitted across the walls. Low moans, murmurs at first, filled the palace with a cry of painful grieving. A long faded spirit appeared before the group. Wyn froze immediately. Tristan, much taller than Wyn, moved closely behind the boy and put a hand on his shoulder. Giles held Trsitan’s hand tightly and whimpered softly. The spirit was a floating shade of translucent blacks and blues. Its face was emaciated and vague. There were black vacant holes in place of eyes and mouth. Rage was a distant echo in its features. It moved threateningly forward. Giles wrapped himself around Tristan’s leg. Tristan gazed coldly forward, frightened deep inside. Wyn shook but remained defiant. “Spirit, we mean you no harm,” Wyn spoke.

The spirit released a sharp painful scream and rushed forward. Tristan pulled Wyn toward him and covered both Wyn and Giles. The spirit passed through them, its cold frosty being bit at the boys’ flesh. Wyn was the first to move, all three shivering out of fright and chill. “Let us continue,” Wyn urged.

“We’re almost free,” Wyn pushed open looming black doors. Tristan stepped out onto black marble steps. He gazed down at the valley below. A gentle wind rustled his hair. Tirstan stood silently looking from the doors of Viregna’s palace. Giles quietly walked over to Tristan and grabbed his hand. Tristan gripped Giles hand in return. Wyn followed close behind. Wyn spoke once more in his soft but authoritative voice, “the valley of Viregna, Necia, named after the demigod Nex, who is said to frequent these lands, is the home of hungry spirits and they are the followers of Viregna. They will be vexed because of the death of Viregna, and will be unusually irritable. Regardless they feed on the souls of the living. We must tread carefully.”

Tristan’s features remained cold, but his eyes betrayed his outward apathy. He held Giles hand tighter and said, “Stay close Giles.” Together they ran down the steps and into the valley bellow. Wary of the immense danger hidden in the black rivers and the shadows of gigantic rocks, jutting tumultuously from dry decrepit earth, the three walked slowly from rock to rock. Their feet shuffled silently, muffled by their caution.

Giles screamed and locked onto Tristan. Wyn and Tristan turned quickly to see a looming ghost, black as night, hovering over them with an open gaping mouth. Tristan bolted forward. Wyn followed close behind. They didn’t stop running. Ghosts lurched from behind rocks and from motionless waters. They ran relentlessly, Tristan pulling Giles into his arms. Wyn, though small, was lightening fast. Tristan, with the extra weight in his arms, was beginning to lag.

“They’ll catch us Tristian!” Wyn cried.

Tristan growled and pressed forward. He could see ahead the end of the valley, tall trees on a steep slope, but it was far, too far. He growled again and his powerful muscles strained. Wyn was far ahead now. He kept looking back and yelling at Tristan to hurry. Tristan released a desperate yell full of anger and fire. Head lowered, he powered foreword. Wyn was scrambling up the mountainside. Tristan, with long strides, advanced the slope quick enough to surpass Wyn. Tristan released Giles. Wyn was directly behind them. Quickly they rushed to the edge of the trees.

The three of them slipped into a forest and made their way far from the dark valley. The spirits would not follow them. The forest was thick and ancient, full of magic, which kept the ghosts at bay. The royal trees towered over the three as they walked into the majestic forest kingdom. They could sense the life, flooding them with a fiery excitement, flowing through the trees and the curious creatures of the forest. Tristan smiled and ran ahead.

“I feel like I’m home . . .”

“Tristan . . . you have been since you laid in your bed . . .”

Giles meandered slowly behind the group. He was ever cautious of the outside world, ever terrified by the pulsing life emanating from the forest in waves of light, and he was ever frightened by the massive trees and the overwhelming green. He walked with his head down. Somber shadows framed his features with cold outlines. His lips were pressed tightly together, arms close to his sides. Silent as a cold barren land within winter’s grip, Giles followed Tristan and Wyn.

“Why then, Wyn, did you try to stop my fall?” Tristan swirled around to greet Wyn with a devilish smile.

“Only pain will come of this. There are other ways Tristan . . .” Wyn spoke softly. He gazed pleadingly into Tristan’s eyes with his own bright green eyes.

“I don’t know what you are talking about Wyn . . .” Tristan smirked. “Look where we are! Its paradise . . .”

“That’s what scares me . . .” Wyn mumbled.

“Come with me . . .” Tristan grabbed Wyn’s hand and rushed into the forest.

“But!”

Giles looked up and watched in horror as they ran off into the forest. Frantically he raced after them, but he ran in vain. His legs were too small and too weak to keep up. Certain a lonely death would strike him down any moment, he ran deeper into the forest. Tears held painfully at bay, Giles could feel his heart flailing against his chest and he wanted to spasm on the dusty earth, but he ran on as he grasped on to the desperate hope that he would find them.

Through the labyrinth of trees, Giles sped down the isles and turns. Tears spilled down his small cheeks. His frail body pushed on in stubbornness. Ahead of him grew a bright light. He stopped before a serene opening in the woods. Relief spread through Giles like a cool mist. Tristan and Wyn stood at the other end. Giles watched as Tristan, giggling with excitement, reached out and pulled Wyn toward him. Wyn was hesitant and afraid, but always cooperative. Tristan embraced Wyn tightly. Slowly, passionately, Tristan placed his lips on Wyn’s neck. Giles frowned and walked away. Slowly he descended into a shadowed lonely meditation. He ambled through the forest, reaching out to the little boy, beaconing him to the heart of Kingdome of trees. Giles reach out to feel the leaves of a ground bush. The leaves brushed his fingers lovingly. Still he frowned, thinking of how he must have been hated, knowing that he was hated because he was nothing. He was nothing, and there was nothing in the world that would love him. He was alone, forever alone. The forest tried to comfort him, but young Giles ignored its efforts.

Wyn was a hot sparking ember. He arched his body against Tristan, who ran his lips, glistening and luscious, down Wyn’s sweating pale flesh. Trstian stripped Wyn of his tunic. Wyn stood naked and trembling. Tristan let his robe fall to the ground, fluttering and shifting like snow through the air. Long black hair shifting over his smooth slender back, Tristan held the smaller boy firmly against his body. Wyn closed his eyes and moaned. He could feel Tristan’s hardness pressed firmly on his stomach. Slowly and with heated deliberation, Tristan leaned down and kissed Wyn deeply. Wyn let his weight fall against Tristan. He closed his eyes and the older boy held Wyn firmly in his arms.

Pulling away, Tristan stepped toward a mossy rock. His hand was tight around Wyn’s and their arms, outstretched, look like two touching branches. Tristan reached for Wyn, his hands sliding over Wyn’s skin. Lifting the pale boy, Tristan placed him on the rock. Wyn’s face was level with Tristan. Stepping forward, Trsitan ran his fingers up Wyn’s thighs, eliciting throaty sighs from Wyn. Tristan reached up, took Wyn’s neck into his hand and pulled Wyn forward. He nipped Wyn’s lips, parted as he panted. The other hand gripped Wyn’s member. The younger boy moaned and leaned his head against Tristan’s forehead.

Frozen, they were golden in the sunlight, which streamed through the loose branches of the trees overhead. Tristan ran his thumb in circular motions over the head of Wyn’s member. The slow soft motions, elicited throaty moans, full of hissing steam, from Wyn, whose eyes were closed and whose body was tense with passion. A surge of energy flooded Wyn. He threw his head back and moaned powerfully. Seed exploded and shot through the air, spraying all over Tristan, who chuckled joyfully. Tristan claimed onto the rock. Wyn was on his back panting, his body was still flooded with waves of euphoria.

Tristan positioned himself between Wyn, who looked up at Tristan with slight apprehension. Tristan smiled and he ran his hands up Wyn’s thighs. The younger boy smiled back, relaxing in Tristan’s hands. Tristan slid over Wyn’s snow white body, hot as white blinding lava. Tristan hovered over the smaller boy. Lightly Tristan kissed Wyn’s lips, soft and succulent. Wyn reached up and kissed Tristan deeper. Their kiss parted reluctantly. Tristan gazed into Wyn’s eyes. A moment of joy passed between them. Both were excited and anticipating the moment at hand. Tristan repositioned himself, He hovered momentarily over Wyn. Tristan pushed forward carefully. The smaller boy winced. Tristan paused, but Wyn nodded and Tristan pushed further in. Halfway in Wyn bit his lip and tears formed at the edges of his eyes. Tristan stopped and began kissing Wyn’s neck. Determined, Wyn pulled Tristan forward and took the rest of Tristan in. Wyn cried out, more tears flooded his eyes. Tristan held him close kissing him, whispering to him gentle loving words.

Legs and arms wrapped tightly around Tristan, Wyn was trembling in pain. The pain was grand, but the warmth of Tristan against him and within him permeated through his body. Breathing heavily, his heart pounding loudly, he was relaxing. Still panting he whispered in Tristan’s ear. “Make love to me . . .”

Tristan steadily thrust in and out. Small bites of pain nipped at Wyn, but the pain was being replaced by a power unstoppable wave of pleasure. Undulating through out Wyn’s body, the wave was building quickly into a tsunami of passion. Wyn arched, crying out in pleasure. Tristan sped up his thrusts. Pressure was building within him. The hot molten waves of fire from Wyn surrounded Tristan, leaving Tristan swarmed in overpowering ecstasy.

Tristan’s body slid over the younger boy. Wyn’s member was pressed hard against Tristan’s stomach. His pale body shaking, Wyn gasped, his body lurched forward as spasms raced through him. Seed spilled between Wyn and Tristan. Wyn’s inner walls clenched tightly around Tristan’s member. Tristan cried out in pleasured surprise. He wrenched away, his body in a perfect arch, his hips thrust deep into Wyn. With vehement fires Tristan released his seed into Wyn. The convulsions of pleasure passed and Tristan lay his tired body on Wyn, who held him loosely. Exhausted they fell asleep, naked on the rock.

Giles played alone in the forest. He crouched on the ground and watched as small insects went about their busy lives. He watched them scurry across the earth, scattered with dead leaves and branches. Undergrowth pressed its way through the dead layer of earth. Giles was fascinated in the unseen activity occurring beneath his feet. The movement of the insects seemed to be connected with the forest on a level Giles couldn’t comprehend, but he could vaguely grasp the sense of the interconnectedness between the marco and the micro.

He smiled to himself. He had forgotten about his loneliness, about Wyn and Tristan, who abandoned him for their own play. He was content for a moment feeling apart of the forest, apart of something much greater than himself. Giles picked up a stick and began intervening with the insects’ lives. The small creatures attempted to go on with their lives, despite the intrusion. Giles was enticed by their reactions, how they adapted to new situations, how they found their way back after being displaced. He wondered how they seemed to do so without trouble. He wanted to know why life was so painful for him, though he did not think those thoughts directly. He reflected on all the hard times he experienced, and he remembered how others seemed not to be affected as he had been. Life didn’t make sense to him, he didn’t seem to fit in with the grand picture.

He heard giggling from far off. Curious he went to investigate. Small spirit folk, forever young, played around a tree, golden and massive. Sun light sparkled on the silver leaves, sprouting form thick branches. The forest spirits danced and laughed. They chased each other around the tree and climbed the branches. Giles wanted to join them, but he was afraid. He became conscious of himself, of his awkwardness around others. Tears formed in his eyes. He didn’t know how to approach them and the thought of introducing himself caused bouts of fear to ripple through his body.

Turning away, he ran. Tears streaming down his face. He stumbled over a root and fell into a pile of leaves. Sobbing horribly, Giles felt like the entire world was jeering at him. Emotions of hate and sadness swept through him violently as vehement hot winds. Self-defeating, Giles cried alone, haunted by his own inadequacies, conquerable only by himself.

A dark shadow shrouded the forest. A broken cry, fraught with fear and pain, echoed through the forest. Giles sat up. A figure stood before him smiling. Giles turn to run, but a firm cold hand snagged his arm. He screamed for his life and flailed desperately to free himself.

Wyn and Tristan were jolted from there sleep. Tristan looked around. The forest felt frightened. Quickly he began to dress.

“Something is wrong . . . Where is Giles?”