Chapter 7
Three to Battle, Bind
Men clashed across the valley. Ulrich and the Aedui were clearly not expecting to meet the combined forces led by Alaric, Iccios and Riga. They fought valiantly as Sara and Ennis watched. Tarin and Arn battled briefly before crossing swords, exchanging words. Arn nodded his agreement. Both dropped their swords, bowing to each other in respect. Ulrich, enraged, turned his attention away from his fight with Alaric, advancing on his Master at Arms.
“How dare you!” Ulrich bellowed. “Fight, you coward!”
Tarin dropped to one knee respectfully. “M’Lord, we are clearly outnumbered. I do not deserve to die today.”
Seeing their Master yield, many of the other Aedui followed suit, leaving Ulrich sputtering, rendering him defenseless.
“Seems your men have surrendered, Ulrich,” Alaric observed dryly. “Yield now and live to fight another day.”
Ulrich glowered at Alaric, his face rapidly turning puce.
“I want him dead!” roared Riga, his face mottled red in rage.
“NOT your decision!” Alaric shouted, dismissing Riga with an outthrust hand. “Ulrich of the Aedui, where is my wife?” He returned his angry attention to the defeated chieftain.
“She fled in the night,” he hissed. “With the boy.”
“Damnation upon you!” Alaric cursed, drawing his sword as if to strike.
“My Lord,” Iccios interrupted.
“Yes?” Alaric growled.
“My sister is not defenseless. I am certain that she is quite safe.” Iccios implored Alaric to believe him.
“Hardly defenseless,” Ulrich added with a snort at his memories of the witch, her knife drawn, ready to fight. “I acquiesce.”
“I accept your surrender,” Alaric acknowledged, lowering his sword. “See to the wounded now,” he ordered to Arn and Tarin.
High on the ridge, Sarah nimbly mounted and Cara sped down the hill, seeing the battle drawing to a close, Ennis at her side, his sword drawn, eyes searching for threats.
Alaric, Iccios and Riga made their way to the side of the battlefield to discuss what to do next.
“I believe she would have ridden for home,” Iccios explained. “Her horse could continue to carry her, and the boy, even if she needed to rest.”
“I hope you are right,” Riga added worriedly.
As they spoke, Arn and Tarin were checking on the wounded. Alaric turned slightly, catching sight of Arn across the battlefield. Arn crumpled to the ground as he took a blow to the chest, thrust up from one of the wounded men he was checking on.
Enraged, Alaric raced across the slippery field to swing at the injured enemy, beheading him with a mighty blow. Distraught, Alaric dropped to his knees at Arn’s side.
From her horse, Sarah spied them just as Alaric wrenched the gold-chained talisman from his neck. He shouted, “RESARCIO!” just as Sarah’s voiced carried over the battlefield.
“Alaric! NO!” Sarah screamed in fear and rage as Alaric placed the ruby over Arn’s bloodied chest. The ruby emitted a red glow as Arn’s blood was absorbed into the gem. Dismounting before Cara even stopped, Sarah closed the short distance towards her betrothed at a dead run. Ennis followed suit, his arm out to shield her.
“No!” she wailed, anguished. “Do you realize what you’ve done?” she moaned as she fell to her knees next to the fallen Arn. Cara snorted, shying backwards, forcing Ennis’ mount to back away as well. Ennis paled significantly as awareness overcame him. He turned to catch the horses’ reins and lead them away from the scene.
“What is wrong?” Alaric demanded then had the air knocked out of him by the force of the magic flowing from the talisman. Sarah leaned into the rush, resting her forehead on Arn’s barely moving chest.
“Heart’s blood, Alaric! Heart’s blood!” she whimpered. “You have given the talisman his heart’s blood! I could have healed him!” she cried through gritted teeth.
“I don’t understand, Sarah.” Alaric struggled back to Arn’s side. “Heart’s blood? Gods above!” He panicked. “What do you mean could have healed him? Will the Fuíl not heal him?”Alaric seized Sarah’s hands, shaking her to force her to look at him.
“Did you not feel it, Alaric? The Fuíl has already begun to heal him!” she shouted. “It has taken the blood offering; the heart’s blood offering, m’Lord. THINK!” Sarah demanded, tugging her hands free as Alaric sank onto his haunches, shocked realization finally dawning on him.
“The new moon has not yet risen …” his voice trailed off, muffled by the shouts of victory and moans of the dying all around them.
“No, my love. The new moon rises three days hence.”
“Dear gods, Sarah!” he exclaimed. “I …”
Sarah cut him off, exasperated and dismayed. “… loved him so much to act instead of think. If only I inspired such emotion from my promised bond-mate,” Sarah whispered, tears streaming from her emerald eyes.
“I do love you, Sarah. Doubt not that fact!” Alaric pleaded with her as his dark skin flushed red. His eyes clouded as he saw the anguish in her eyes. “I,” he started. “I simply love Arn as well.”
Underneath them, Arn whimpered and stirred, struggling to open his eyes. Sarah dropped to her knees to check on the fallen Master, gently worming her arm underneath his head to help raise him to sitting. The Fuíl slipped to the ground. Alaric picked it up and tucked it away in his pocket.
“How do you feel?” Sarah asked him gently. Alaric moved in closer to lend his strength as well.
“Dizzy,” Arn answered weakly.
“But alive!” Alaric rejoiced. “Alive, Arn!”
“Well, of course, I’m alive, you daft man,” Arn grouched. Suddenly, the gravity of the situation dawned on him. “That was a mortal blow,” he stated dully, the ramifications of the wound smashing into his consciousness.
“Yes,” Alaric confirmed solemnly. “You should not be alive.”
“You both are ridiculous. Am I not a healer?” Sarah groused. “As if I would have let you perish,” she chided him. “You are much too precious to Alaric.”
Arn locked gazes with the woman, his watery blue eyes fixed on her all-knowing green.
“His heart would break, love. Remember that mine is bound to his, eternally. What is best for him is also best for me,” Sarah whispered gently to Arn, brushing his forehead with her cool fingertips.
Alaric stared at her, wonder and amazement written all over his dark features.
“The same is true for me, Lady Sarah,” Alaric offered gently. “I know you must not harbor a great, undying love for me. How could you?” He bowed his head.
“Alaric! Ours may be an arranged union, but the bond requires that I love you, so I do. It is what it should be,” Sarah explained softly, exasperated as well as exhausted.
Arn stared first at one, then the other, completely confused.
“Ours is a union. The bond requires that I love you. So I do.” Sarah tried once more to make Alaric understand.
Arn fell back on to his elbows as Sarah used both hands to cup Alaric’s beardless face, tilting his chin back up to look into her eyes as they leaned over the supine man beneath them.
“You are amazing,” Alaric exclaimed.
“As are you!” Sarah returned the compliment.
“I feel very strange,” Arn interjected.
“Rightfully so, Master Arn,” Sarah began. “Alaric used the Fuíl to heal you.”
“Of all the things you could have done! Is this what your magic feels like? I think I do not like it,” Arn offered weakly.
“No, dear Master. You are feeling the bond demanding its completion,” Sarah clarified gently.
“Pardon?” interjected Arn.
“Your heart’s blood was offered to the Fuíl when Alaric placed it over your wound,” Sarah clarified.
“M’Lord!” gasped Arn. “Your bond had not settled!”
“I realize that now, thank you very much,” Alaric answered testily.
“You are now pledged to each of us as well, Master Arn,” Sarah broke in. “We shall permanently be a trio from this day forward.” She gently kissed Alaric’s forehead. “We must seal the bond quickly, before the magic forces the issue.”
“Sarah! He nearly died!” Alaric blurt out. “Dear gods and all the goddesses …” he paused. “How do we seal the bond with three?”
Sarah began to giggle. Then, the stress of the past days overtook her. She laughed hysterically, holding her sides with one arm while holding herself up with the other.
“Surely you cannot mean that I must explain the mechanics of a threesome to you?” she panted out between guffaws. “I am witness to your abilities with a woman. Surely, your imagination is not so limited?”
Alaric blankly stared at her.
“Or is it?” She gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. “I thought you were lovers? I would have sworn it! I saw it!” She looked to Arn, who though weak, seemed more aware.
“We have long been lovers, Lady Sarah,” Arn confirmed for her ever so gently. “I really cannot fathom what baffles him so.”
“The sheer mechanics,” Alaric uttered dully.
“Dear Alaric,” Sarah instructed gently. “You and I have sealed our bond. You must seal your bond with Arn. I must seal our bond with Arn. We must all join together to seal the bond.” She studied his face, waiting for understanding to show in his features. “We probably should insure that bond in as many ways as possible. I would dearly hate to weaken our powers by neglecting someone.”
Alaric blushed red. Arn’s laughter rang out over the moans of the wounded and the calls of the victors. “This embarrasses you?” Arn shook his head in disbelief then simply lay back down on the ground.
Alaric stuttered a bit, then spat out, “I never expected someone as ladylike and demure as Sarah to be so knowledgeable in these ways.”
Shocked, Sarah stared at him with her brows knit together. “By all that is sacred! Men! You are the most bizarre creatures! I am the High Priestess! I have overseen, blessed, consecrated and participated in nearly every ritual known to wizard-kind. How could I not know of these things?” She spat out the words, exhaustion and exasperation clear in her demeanor.
Both men gaped at her as their awareness caught up with them, cataloguing all of the various rituals they knew, had witnessed or participated in.
“I believe you underestimated your betrothed,” Arn soothingly offered.
“I believe I have misled myself greatly,” Alaric affirmed.
“Our ponies are not fresh, love,” Sarah admonished Alaric gently.
Arn interrupted, his breath coming in rapid pants, “Do you not feel this heat?” Sweat dampened his brow though the night air was cool.
“Yes, dear Arn, we feel the heat. The Fuíl desires our union. The magic wishes to complete the binding,” Sarah murmured, soothingly brushing his damp hair out of his eyes, valiantly trying to quash her own feelings.
“We ride as quickly as our noble mounts will permit,” stated Alaric.
Alaric rose to his feet, whistling to summon his and Arn’s horses. They charged from the cover of the trees as Sarah’s sweat-streaked stallion picked its way around the fallen men to rub his itchy head on Sarah’s shoulder. Sarah scratched at Cara’s sweaty bridle path, waiting for the men’s mounts.
Suddenly, Alaric remembered the entire reason for the flight and battles of the last few days. “Sarah! Where is the boy?” he yelled, using anger to mask his fear.
“Calm down, my Lord!” exhorted Sarah. “He is safe. Bren rode ahead with one of my most trusted guards. They should be nearing my keep as we speak,” she soothed him.
Iccios, with an unarmed Tarin behind him, sprinted across the clearing to reach Sarah, startling Cara. Sarah patted his neck as she gave her brother her full attention. “My Lady!” he gasped, short of breath, “Will you attend the wounded?”
“The wounded,” Sarah nearly wailed, dropping her head to rest on the Cara’s sticky neck. “How could I forget the poor suffering wounded?” she ground out, stifling a small sob. She drew in a deep breath to steel herself. “How many, dear Iccios?” she asked with trepidation.
“At least twenty,” he replied.
“Gods above!” exclaimed Alaric, dismayed. “This will take all night!”
Arn groaned in agreement.
“Make camp. Prepare the wounded, most grievous to minor injuries.” Sarah calmly issued her orders. “We will stay here for the night.”
“Truly?” Arn ground out with his jaw clenched tight, clamping down on what he really wanted to say.
Pink-faced, Sarah reminded him, “I have other duties and obligations. You two prepare a tent for us. I will join you when I have finished caring for our injured brothers.”
“Sarah, hurry. Please?” Iccios beseeched her.
“Yes, yes, lead the way.” She motioned for Iccios to move on. She locked eyes with Alaric. “I expect a soft bed, warm fire and a hearty meal, gentlemen,” she instructed the two of them. “Fear not. I will hasten to join you.” She gazed at them with fire in her eyes. Alaric smiled, remembering that look well.
Alaric and Arn watched as she strode away, her heavy velvet cloak flowing behind her.
“M’Lord, I burn,” confessed Arn.
“As do I,” Alaric freely admitted. “Let us prepare a tent, and wait for the Lady’s return,” he suggested as he lustfully eyed his new bond-mate. Arn returned his gaze with equal fervor.
Alaric and Arn combined strategies, setting some small logs in the pattern of a tent supports. As Alaric bent forward, the Fuíl spilled out of his pocket onto the ground.
“For the love of the goddesses, put that back around your neck!” Arn grumbled as he spread his cloak over the soon-to-be tent poles.
Alaric snorted but scooped up the talisman and returned it to its rightful place around his neck. Straightening, he withdrew his wand, pointed at the makeshift tent, and commanded, “Cuthú!”
Instantly, the wood and cloak began to create themselves into a spacious tent, stretching, changing shape and form. As the tent settled, Alaric flashed a smug grin at Arn, pleased with his own spell work.
“Yes, yes, m’Lord, it is a fantastic piece of magic. Now, I believe the Lady demanded a few other things,” he reminded Alaric.
“I will require the provisions we packed for traveling, my Master at Arms. Are you capable of fetching them, without assistance?” queried the mage with a studied, longing glance at Arn’s bulging crotch.
“Under ordinary circumstances, I would require no assistance but in this case, I believe it is you who requires the aid,” Arn sniped back, pointing directly at Alaric’s own obvious erection.
“Maybe, if we assist each other, the spell will quiet for a few moments, allowing us time to ready the tent properly,” Alaric mused, brushing his hair behind his ear.
“Shall we experiment with your idea?” Arn offered, holding the tent flap open.
“I think that is an excellent idea!” Alaric stooped and entered inside the tent. Out of the wind, the interior seemed warmer even without a fire. Without eyes to watch them, Alaric pulled Arn close, claiming his mouth with authority. Arn’s hands grasped Alaric’s shoulders to balance against the onslaught. He canted his head, slacking his jaw, to allow Alaric to have free rein. Alaric pushed him to the ground, pressing into his body. Alaric thrust against Arn even as his hands strove to disrobe his long-time lover.
“I must have you, now,” Arn pleaded, the magic searing through his body, flushing his skin dark red. He mewled and arched into Alaric.
“Strip for me,” Alaric requested huskily as he shucked out of his own clothes. Arn rushed to comply, his lust-darkened eyes locked on Alaric’s throbbing cock.
“Damn!” Alaric cursed, mid-undressing. “We need the oils.”
“Gods have mercy,” Arn whined. “I do not have any.”
“Nor do I,” Alaric snarled, falling onto the ground next to Arn. “Why would we bring oils to a battle?” he asked the ceiling of the tent.
“Dress and retrieve the provisions we do have?” Arn asked with a malcontented sigh, struggling to his feet once more.
“Yes, I suppose,” Alaric consented. “Lady Sarah did request a hot meal,” he muttered, frustrated as he retied the laces of his breeches. Arn ranted incoherently under his breath as he redressed.
“What are you mumbling about?” Alaric demanded to know.
“Finally, we can be free with our – affections and we lack the proper – tools,” he whined, glaring at Alaric.
“Perhaps there is something in the packs?” Alaric offered, moving towards the tent flap.
“We can hope,” Arn added snidely. As they ducked back into the fading sunlight, they noticed some of their men leading their horses towards the tent.
“Ah! Someone remembered us!” Alaric noted with satisfaction.
“Lord Alaric!” the first warrior called out. “Lord Iccios ordered that we make camp for the night to rest and assess the wounded.”
“Lord Iccios is a wise man,” Alaric answered, pleased. “Yes, set up the tents. Start a cooking fire. Secure the horses.”
“M’Lord?” Arn redirected his attention, nodding across the field to a large tent already up.
“Is Lady Sarah in the Healer’s tent?” Alaric asked to assure him.
“Yes, Lord Alaric,” he replied. “There are five very seriously wounded. The remainder of the injuries are simple battle wounds which will heal, according to her report.”
“This is good,” Alaric noted solemnly. “Ulrich yielding the ground limited injuries.”
“Yes, sir,” the warrior agreed.
“This is good because Sarah will not be detained long,” Arn hissed at him.
Alaric turned and smirked at Arn, whispering, “Agreed.”
Arn moved to collect their personal belongings. He thanked the young man who handed them over. He grimaced at Alaric and headed back into the tent to set up.
Alaric spent a few more minutes discussing the prisoners, the wounded and his plans while Arn unrolled blankets and searched through the packs for something to take the place of the neglected oils. His ears perked up when he heard Alaric from outside the tent.
“I will need to spend some time alone with Arn. I inadvertently set unexpected consequences in motion when I invoked the power of the Fuíl to heal him. I do expect the utmost discretion under these circumstances.”
“Certainly, Lord Alaric,” the warrior agreed readily, blushing as he began to process what the unexpected consequences could possibly be.
“Lady Sarah is to be escorted directly to our tent as soon as she completes her duties.”
“As you command,” he answered respectfully with a bow. Alaric turned and left him to oversee the camp preparations. When he entered the tent, he found Arn spreading out blankets, completely naked.
“Goddesses praised for eternity!” exhorted Alaric, nearly staggering at the sight. “I am sorely tempted to do without oils and take you, raw.” He breathed heavily through his nose, fighting for control of his desires.
“At the moment, if it would ease this infernal burning, I yield,” Arn readily agreed. He waved towards the blankets. “If you would?”
Alaric slipped his wand into his hand and waved it in a figure-eight pattern, causing a large bed to form and rise from the floor, underneath the blankets. He eyed Arn hungrily, licking his lips.
“I should bring in a brazier if you plan on spending the rest of the night – undressed,” Alaric stated lightly.
“I am not cold, definitely not cold,” Arn complained, throwing his hands wide completely exposing his flushed body to Alaric.
“No, not now. I am trying to think ahead,” Alaric teased as he pulled Arn into his body, once more claiming his mouth in a bruising kiss. Arn writhed against him, rubbing his needy cock against Alaric’s leg.
“I somehow envisioned this with both of you naked,” Sarah observed from the entrance. Both men started and cocked their heads to stare at her. “What have you been doing all this time? No fire. No meal,” she reprimanded them in a light tone. She peered closely at Arn, noting his distress. “Especially as you have obviously not taken care of the bonding, Alaric. Really, the poor man is suffering!” she shouted at him, indignant.
Alaric sputtered and released Arn who collapsed on the bed, handling his own cock in frustration, trying to ignore the other two. “We also had duties to fulfill!” he protested.
“Cover him up, please? I will have someone fetch a brazier and a meal,” Sarah explained, exasperated.
She shook her head as she ducked back outside of the tent. Her quiet voice, commanding yet not harsh, asked politely for a brazier, meal and wine. Ennis’ baritone agreed readily.
Alaric glanced from Arn who was struggling to hide under the blankets to the tent flap where his wife had just disappeared.
“M’Lord,” Arn called from the bed.
“Yes?” Alaric answered without looking.
“Will she make me wait for long?” Arn queried, desperation rising his voice.
“Not if she feels as I do right now,” Alaric answered as he walked to the flap to hold it open for Sarah and Ennis who was hot on her heels with a brazier. Ennis blushed at seeing Arn in the bed but quickly went to work setting a fire to protect them from the rising chill of the night. Sarah studied the tent as she shrugged out of her traveling cloak, tossing it towards Alaric who caught it, looking around from somewhere to hang it.
“No seating?” she observed with a smirk, arching one eyebrow at the flustered visage of her husband.
“Oh!” Alaric looked around as well as she settled herself primly on the corner of the bed.
“I will return quickly with your meal and wine, Lady Sarah,” Ennis ducked out of the tent, nearly running, eager to leave the strange trio to their own devices.
As soon as he was out of earshot, Sarah pounced on Alaric. “How could you let Arn suffer so? Surely you could have eased the bond by now!” she huffed at him indignantly. “I did not need to be present for you two to join!” She moved to sit at the head of the bed and stroke Arn’s sweaty brow.
“Oh, dear wife, I would have but we are lacking one crucial item to enable two men to copulate!” Alaric bellowed at her in frustration. Ennis blushed crimson as he set the food and wine near the brazier and fled rapidly through the less than soundproof tent flap.
“What could you possibly require that you would not have access to?” she wondered aloud, staring at the mage in disbelief.
Red-faced, Alaric answered quite bashfully, “Oils, Lady Sarah. We had no oils.”
“My dear husband,” Sarah began, her voice hard. “Are you not a wizard?”
“Of course I am!” he protested.
“Then, act like one!” she sniped back. She stood, whipping back the blankets to expose Arn completely. He shivered from the rush of cool air, focused completely on her. She shook her hand so that her wand would slip from her sleeve then commanded, “Raise up and place some pillows beneath you.”
Arn complied eagerly.
“Unguo!” Sarah hissed, creating a stream of viscous oil to coat her fingers. She knelt between Arn’s outspread knees and gently began to work the oil around his opening. He moaned and grasped at the blankets as she circled repeatedly, altering the pressure with each pass, ensuring he was well lubricated before she began to press her slender finger into the rosebud which yielded easily to her pressure. Alaric stripped behind her, dropping all of his clothes in a heap.
“Why did I not think of this?” he ground out as he knelt behind Sarah to watch, transfixed as her fingers prepared his way.
“Perhaps your thoughts were called elsewhere?” Sarah growled as Alaric pressed himself against her, seeking friction.
“Perhaps I was incapable of rational thought, preoccupied with you,” Alaric rumbled in reply, latching onto her neck, worshipping her skin with his lips, tasting her with the tip of his tongue.
“Continue as you are and I will be incapable of any thoughts, much like Arn,” she answered as Arn thrust into her hand, his eyes closed, mouth open, moaning non-stop. “Give me your cock, Alaric,” she ordered. Twisting, she pulled free from Arn who groaned at the loss of contact.
“Please, Lady Sarah, please?” he begged. “Mercy?”
“Yes,” she soothed. “Yes, we will take care of you. It may require some gymnastics but we will seal the bond as quickly as possible,” she added with a smirk at Alaric. She grasped Alaric’s more familiar cock with both oiled hands and began to stroke, covering him with the slippery liquid needed to ease Arn’s suffering. Alaric balanced himself by holding onto Sarah’s shoulders, struggling not to thrust into her hands.
“Take him, Alaric.” She guided him towards Arn as she slid off the bed, pulling her dress over her head as she did.
“YES!” Alaric shouted, rejoicing in being inside Arn at long last. He lifted Arn’s legs over his and seated himself fully.
“More, Alaric, more!” Arn pleaded.
“Yes, grádh, soon,” he murmured soothingly. Sarah nodded her agreement as she climbed onto the bed, straddling Arn and settling herself over his engorged cock.
“There, there,” she whispered, sheathing him fully, trapping him between herself and Arn. “Are you ready, loves?” she asked, bracing her hands on either side of Arn’s head.
“Yes,” they chorused.
“Take him, Alaric! Seal the bond!” she stipulated with a stifled cry of joy as Alaric’s motion forced Arn deeper inside of her.
“YES!” all three cried out as they joined, finally as one, satisfying the magic set in motion so very long ago.
