Swan Prince

The Swan Prince

By: Delilah deSora

Chapter 8



**



Atol did not always keep his promise.



This Odel knew but Atol had begun taken great care in making sure Kent’s disappearances were not noticed and Kent himself did not seem to suffer from Atol’s summons so Odel did not press the issue. To be truthful he rather hoped it would serve to rebuild the ties between them that had been severed. He suspected it was a foolish hope but it was one he clung to all the same.



The place Kent had told him about fascinated him and he longed to see it. He felt it was essential to understanding more about his prince’s other half but there was another, deeper urgency within him to find the path. He could not explain it but ever since his brother’s departure there was darkness that plagued him, that urged him to hurry, whispering that his time was growing short. He knew better than to ignore it, even if he didn’t understand it.



Unfortunately he was at a loss as to how to go about finding his way to it. Kent, he knew, would never take him and Atol had made his wish that their couplings be wordless well known. Despite their differences both could be quite stubborn, Odel mused, staring at the rain drenched trees.



Storm after storm had washed over the land, painting the sky grey and the earth below it brown. The gaily-colored leaves had all been blown away and the trees were now barren, their skeletal branches reaching up towards the sky in defiance of the coming winter. Soon the snows would begin to fall and the castle’s residents would settle in for the long wait. Roads would be closed and the forest impregnable.



Even to a young prince who knew his way.



Atol, Odel knew, would wish one last visit before Kent would be free of his callings for the rest of year. That did not mean he would be free of Atol’s influence but Kent, at least, would be allowed to stay warm within the castle’s stone walls. Atol had said nothing of a final visit but Odel had read the knowledge in his prince’s eyes. He’d seen the stiff way Kent had held himself when they’d gone to bid the swans a good journey as they prepared to fly south. He’d seen how grey eyes had constantly slid towards the shadows of the forest, the fear of an impending summons plain for anyone to see.



Atol would summon and Kent would go.



It would be dangerous to follow. There were puddles hidden among the leaf-strewn paths. Puddles that would freeze as the sun sank below the horizon. A man could become lame with a simple misstep.



And yet something told him he must. It told him that this would be his last chance.



Atol chose his night well. Both Boreal and Ryhan had gone south, leaving the castle guards understaffed and no one with the authority to keep an eye on the Prince’s comings and goings. Atol came to him shortly after the servants had taken away the evening’s meal. There was an urgency to their coupling that alerted him to the sorcerer’s wish to speed things along. When they were finished he lay quietly, feigning sleep as a shadow slipped from the rooms.



It took him precious minutes to dress and he had to run to catch up to the fleeting form that slipped between the trees. The setting sun was his only guide as he struggled to avoid branches and straying off the small path they followed. The ground was soggy under his feet and he was glad for it silenced his footsteps.



He nearly fell when he reached the crest of a small rise and the ground dropped away beneath him. The racing of his heart was soon forgotten as he stared out over the land that was laid bare before him.



The final rays of the sun set the lake aflame so that it seemed to glow from within, like one of the jewels his father had given to his mother upon Vilay’s birthday. Here the trees were still in full foliage, some even bearing flowers and fruit as though the coming winter had no sway over this place.



As he carefully made his way down the steep slope he began to understand what Kent had told him of feeling the earth’s heartbeat. The scents of the forest ovok hok him and he smiled, his heart warming at the feeling of belonging he felt here. He felt as though he were truly connected to the wheel of life, as though he to was recognized and accepted by the world around him.



Night birds sang in the trees and he walked along the lake’s beach, watching small silver fish dart this way and that, their scales sparkling in the moonlight. The water turned silver as the colors of the sunset faded away and the moon took her place as ruler of the night sky. The air was warmer here and it was heavy with the scents of eternal summer.



He found Atol by the water’s edge, kneeling in the soft grass as he buried his fingers in the long fur of a fox. The creature lay on its side, breathing heavily as Atol’s hand came away stained with blood, the firelight of the nearby torch glittering brightly across the red smear. Odel hurried forward, fearing the worst but the fox came to its feet and, with a flick of its pair of tails, ran off into the forest. It was only as he came closer that Odel saw the sliver of metal resting in the sorcerer’s palm.



“Iron.” Atol sneered, dissipating it with a wave of his hand. “Your kind taints even what it claims does not exist.”



He sat back and for the first time Odel noticed the small menagerie of creatures waiting for Atol’s ministrations. “I am sorry.” He whispered, though if it was to Atol or the dark eyed creatures that stared at him with angry eyes he did not know.



Atol held out his hand, suddenly clean again, to a small being with brightly colored wings. It hesitated but, after a moment, came to the beckoning. “You should not be here.”



Odel lowered his eyes. “I wanted to see.”



“So you can bring others of your kind here?” came the accusation.



He shook his head. “Who would I tell? Who would believe me but the one person who already knows of this place?”



Atol had apparently finished with the fairy-like creature, though Odel had not seen him do anything but stare at the tiny creature, for it leapt away from his hand and in its place a small bird flitted away.



Atol was silent and Odel crept closer, waiting for the indication that he had overstepped his bounds. The sorcerer remained silent, appearing for all the world to ignore him as a woman with the body of a snake slithered into his lap so that he could pull another shard of iron from her stomach. She writhed, causing his hands to lose their grip and she nearly toppled from his lap.



Quickly Odel caught her, holding her small arms and whispering soothing words as he’d done with his brothers and sisters as Atol gently worked the bit of metal from her soft underbelly. As soon as the metal was gone the wound healed and she was gone, the flick of a scaled tail as it disappeared into the underbrush the only indication she had been there at all.



There were more creatures after her, some so strange looking Odel had to keep from staring and others appearing as any other creature of the forest. Some he could see nothing wrong with while others also suffered from a bit of iron that kept a wound from closing or some other bit of human contraption that caused mischief they could not be free of. There was a fish with hooks that needed removing and an otter that had gotten so hopelessly entangled in a net it could barely swim.



Finally there were no other creatures left and it was only then that Atol stood, brushing the dirt from his pants. Odel followed him quietly as he walked, his thoughts turned inward.



“You see?” Atol suddenly said, his voice making Odel aware of the suddenly quiet night, “You see what your kind does? They hate and they destroy. Why should I not hate and destroy them in return?”



Odel thought for a long moment before replying. “It is wrong,” he said evenltudytudying the lake, “It is wrong for a creature to hurt another. Yet . . . that is the way of the world. We must hurt things to live. A hawk must strike down that which is smaller than it. Why should you not hate the hawk as well?”



“Because the hawk kills for a reason.” Atol replied quickly.



“Yes, that is true. But you must think of the human. Many fear the fae-folk for our childhood are filled with stories of mischief they cause us. We hurt them because we fear them. We fear them because of the stories. Will you tell me that the stories are false? That humans have never been hurt because of them?”



Atol was silent as they came upon the house Kent had spoken of.



“We are all dangerous,” Odel continued, “there is no side that is right or wrong. Both of our kinds fight to stay alive.”



“This is our forest,” Atol hissed, his hand clenching, “It has been ours since the dawn of timumanumans have no right to be here!”



“Don’t we?” Odel countered, earning a surprised glance, “Are we not all creatures of this world?”



Atol’s lips thinned but he kept his words to himself. After a moment he turned away. “Your priests do not think so. Nor does that King of yours. He turns his back on the old ways, shuns them. They are . . . embarrassing to him. He thinks he is above them. He thinks he can rule this land. He has even tried to come here, to destroy this place.”



Odel shrugged. “He is a fool. Even now he seeks to subdue those of his own kind who do not wish it. Not all humans are like him. My father . . . I do not know if he believes in such creatures as I have seen this night but he respects that they might exist anyway. Our forests are old and untouched except in times of extreme duress. Even then we are careful to take only a little and replace what we have been forced to destroy. Do not seek to punish all just based on the actions of a few.”



Atol snorted. “Lest I become like your kind?” He sneered.



Odel was silent, watching as the sorcerer pondered his words. After a moment he shrugged, waving the matter off with a lazy gesture.



“I suppose you came here looking for your little lost Prince.” Atol said, his voice returned to its bored arrogance.



Odel shook his head. “I do not need to see him to know he is here.”



A smile darkened Atol’s face and Odel stiffened unconsciously as Atol suddenly moved behind him, an arm slipping about his waist. “You are a fool to come here, swanling,” he hissed, making Odel shiver, “He is helpless in this place. The voices whisper to him, make him yearn for things he denies himself. They confuse him and he is lost in the darkness. It is only you and I here and the lake has ever been a silent witness to what takes place on its shores.”



The dark smile lightened somewhat but, before Odel could count it as a victory, grey eyes narrowed and focus more intently upon him. “This place is considered a neutral ground for those that would come here,” Atol continued, “yet I doubt most of the inhabitants of this place would have qualms about spilling human blood upon this ground.”



Odel shivered but refused to give into fear. He met the sorcerer’s eyes evenly. “I mean no harm coming here.” He said quietly.



Atol shrugged, a gesture that reminded Odel that, by birth, the sorcerer himself was of his kind. As though reading his mind Atol’s attention returned to him. “They accept me because of my mother’s wishes. Through her I carry some of their legacy. You, however, carry none. You are outside the rules that they chose to govern them. But . . .”



Atol fell silent as he circled him and, despite his resolve, Odel had to turn his eyes away from the feral look. He suddenly felt hunted but, though his strength wavered, he refused to flee.



“Do you know the way of the wild?” Atol asked, his voice deep with hidden meaning as his lips brushed across the shell of Odel’s ear. “There are the weak and the strong. The strong claim what they want, be it food or shelter,” an arm slipped about his waist, pulling him back against Atol’s firm stomach, “or even another. They claim it for as long as they can hold it, until another stronger force becomes of a mind to take it from them.”



Odel cried out softly as teeth tugged at the vulnerable flesh of his neck, as lips closed about his abused skin, raising dark marks against the pale skin.



“I will tell you of a thing,” Atol murmured, his voice soft, like a lover’s whisper as he pulled the loose shirt open, baring a pale shoulder to the moonlight, “No one would challenge me here. They wouldn’t dare. They saam tam the last watcher these woods will know. Without me, without my magic this place will fade away and they will lose one of their last true homes. None of them would begrudge me a plaything, even in this place.”



Atol leaned forward, using his greater weight to drag him to the ground. Odel winced as the back of his shirt was grabbed, expensive cloth biting into his skin before tearing under the onslaught. Sharp nails ran over his exposed back, tracing the delicate ridges of his spine before Atol’s hands slid down along his sides. His hands fisted in the soft grass as Atol’s hips melded to his, his desire a firm presence against his vulnerable ass.



His hair drug in the dirt as Atol lifted his hips, fingers clawing at the ties on his pants. It left him half sitting upon the sorcerer’s lap and he groaned as their bodies found the perfect fit. Atol’s hips flexed, grinding their bodies together and his head fell back, coming to rest on a broad shoulder as he panted. Equal parts pleasure and apprehension warred within him as the knots gave way and the cloth covering him came apart.



He cried out in surprise as he was suddenly shoved forward. When he tried to rise and hand gripped the back of his neck, holding him down firmly. A cold trickle of fear made him shiver but he gave in to the silent command, lying still even when the hand was removed. The rest of his clothing was torn away, leaving him naked under the moonlight. Odel felt a flush rise to his cheeks and he turned his head slightly, causing his hair to fall over his face. It was a meager effort but it gave him a small illusion of modesty.



Something cold touched his back and he jerked in surprise. A hand came down on his backside, making him yelp in surprise even as a flush of pleasure rose through him.



“Lie still!” Atol snapped.



Swallowing his fear Odel forced himself to do as the sorcerer bid, his hands clenched and arms tense as the cool object was dragged over his shoulder. Then came the sharp kiss of a blade, though, to Odel’s surprise, it wasn’t that painful at all. He panted for breath as the blade danced over his back, creating strange circular patterns that were, if the sting of the blade’s passing were true, mirrored on either side of his spine.



“You should have left when you had the chance, swanling,ol sol said darkly.



Odel’s voice was breathless but he forced the words out, “You would have only hunted me. I couldn’t have left, even if I desired it.”



There was a soft laugh from behind him. “Indeed. Still, I was a fool not to realize it. You’ve seen this place. You’ve stepped over the boundary between this world and the other. You can never go back, never escape now that the magic has marked you. Not anymore.”



While oand and worked on the pan Atn Atol’s other slid beneath him, teasing his desire. The small pain and the pleasure warred within him and Odel bit his lip, shaking with the effort to lie still. When he thought he could take it no longer the blade was cast aside and he was lifted up onto his knees. With a grateful cry he sank into the desired position his head hanging between his arms as Atol rose behind him like a shadow. The sorcerer spread him wide and, with one sharp movement, impaled him.



Odel’s arms gave out but Atol caught him, pulling him back into him lap. Odel writhed as his body sank down farther on the sorcerer’s staff. Sharp nails flicked at the sensitive nubs on his chest, making them harden as Odel rose up on his knees. Atol let him set the pace, simply holding him as he struggled to move. His back ached and with every movement rubbed against the cloth of the sorcerer’s shirt.



With Atol’s hands teasing his body it did not take long for his mind to go beyond the ache in his back and rush headlong into pleasure. He panted with faint bird-like cries as a hand fondled his shaft, cruelly tugging on the skin to expose the sensitive head. When Atol’s thumb rubbed against the opening Odel thrashed, earning a sharp slap against his ass. The sorcerer continued his ministration and soon Atol’s hands and Odel’s lower stomach was covered in fluid. Groaning in pleasure Odel’s hands clenched on hin thn thighs.



It wasn’t long before he felt Atol’s hips begin to flex, driving the hard cock into him more forcibly. Odel rested his head against his lover’s shoulder, peering up at Atol with lust filled eyes as he brought an arm up to clasp the back of a broad shoulder. Atol’s face was wild with a feral passion. When a hand again slapped his ass Odel gasped, licking lips suddenly gone dry as he rubbed his aching back against Atol’s chest, reveling in the painr />r />


“Harder,” he hissed, his hand clutching at black hair, “Oh please harder!”



Atol growled and practically threw him to the ground. A hand gripped his hip hard enough to leave bruises but Odel did not care. He was lost in a haze as Atol redoubled his efforts. Another sharp slap helped clear his mind and he groaned, pushing back to grind against Atol’s hips. Another strike came followed by another and yet another. Odel flung his head back crying out with abandon as Atol drove him to the edge of pleasure and then pushed him beyond it.



Before he could collapse he was once again draw against Atol’s chest for a final thrust. As he felt the sorcerer’s seed released deep within him Atol’s breath came hot against his neck, his hands clenching painfully as he hissed a single word.



“Mine!”



Odel shuddered, staring out at the dark lake and the small island beyond. “Yes,” he whispered, “for as long you’ll have me.”



Atol whispered something he did not understand but strange warmth traveled up his back and for one horrible moment it felt as though the marks that had cut into his back were on fire. With a cry of pain Odel slumped into the sorcerer’s arms as he lost consciousness.