The Guild Book I - 15. Chapter 15

The next day… Joshua and Brail assumed it was day… the door to their cell opened automatically letting in a dim florescent light. Joshua climbed off his Protector and began putting on his prison uniform. Outside his cell he could hear the sound of heavy machinery as the convicts went back to work expanding the shaft.

Joshua made to leave his cell but was stopped when Brail's arm took hold of him. “Don’t go out there,” he warned.

“What’s wrong?” Joshua asked as he tried to peer past the open door.

“I don’t know, but I sense danger waiting for you if you leave this room,” Brail said as he moved ahead of Joshua.”

Once outside the cell Brail saw four large and burly men, it was the largest of them… a bull of a man with the green eyes of a soldier, who spoke. “Protector,” The man bowed his head.

“Can I help you?”

“We are here to see if we can help,” the man grinned hungrily as he tried to see past Brail to where Joshua was hiding.

Knowing that look all too well. Brail moved himself to stand in the middle of the doorway. “Well, unless you know a way out of this hole I don’t think we need your help.”

“But I think you do… or do you think you can keep that counterpart of yours safe all by yourself?”

“Brail crossed his arms across his chest. “I think Joshua and I will manage.”

“Joshua… what a beautiful name,” the man smiled as if he had just heard a piece of pleasing music.

“I think you should go now.”

“And we think you should die!” the large man shouted as he and all three of his companions rushed forward.

Brail did his best to hold back the would be rapist, breaking one of the men’s arms while snapping another’s neck but he was eventually subdued, put into a headlock that threatened to send him into unconsciousness.

As he struggled to free himself, Brail watched as the gang leader and one of his goons trap Joshua in a corner of the cell. “Fight them Joshua… fight them!” Brail mentally screamed. He knew from personal experience the power Joshua had within him… but be it the young man’s gentle nature or the past abuse he had suffered in the mines Joshua, as strong as he was, did not have the spirit of a warrior in him.

Not wanting to witness what was about to happen, Brail closed his eyes, as he tried to block out Joshua’s screams from his mind.

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Watching the scene from higher up the ramp, was the leader of the Conclave… the most feared gang on the prison world. He had warned the Consortium, the other gangs, and even his own men to stay away from the counterpart, but it seemed that Rankor… a former Guild soldier and leader of the Consortium had chosen not to listen. Making a quick chopping motion with his left arm, the leader of the Conclave watched as his men raced into the counterpart’s cell. Soon deeper yells joined the young counterpart’s screams but they were soon silenced, the only sound now reaching the leader of the Conclave’s ears being Joshua’s sobs.

Hearing the sound of footsteps approaching from behind, the leader turned to face the red eyes of his aid. “Report.”

“Rankor is dead. You were right… he could not resist going after the counterpart, leaving the safety of level three.”

“And the counterpart and his Protector?”

“Looks like the worse he got was a black eye, a torn uniform, and the scare of his life… but he should be fine. As for the Protector he’s still trying to catch his breath.”

“Find the counterpart some clothes and move him to level four. Bring the Protector to me.”

“As you wish.” The aid bowed.

The leader of the Conclave, waiting for the Protector, watched as the shaken counterpart was led out of the cell, a blanket wrapped around the torn shreds of his red and grey jumper. Even from this distance the man could see the counterpart’s beauty… a beauty that made the leader of the feared Conclave weak in the knees. The leader become so focused on the young man he did not notice that the Protector was next to him till the counterpart disappeared from view.

“So I guess we should be thanking you,” Brail whispered, his voice hoarse from the manhandling he had gotten.

“Yes you should be,” the leader grunted as he turned to let his own red eyes glare into Brail’s.

“You are a Protector,” Brail said surprised.

“I was a Protector. My mistress was executed long ago… killed by the Prelate’s orders. The only ones I serve now are myself and those who follow me."

“I noticed that they are also Protectors.”

“Yes… we are the Conclave… a brotherhood of Protectors who failed to save the ones they were bonded to,” the leader said sadly.

The two stood silent for a while till Brail spoke again. “May I ask you two questions?”

“You can ask me whatever you want. Whether I give you an answer is another issue.”

“I am willing to take that risk.”

“Very well…ask away.”

“Why did you save us?”

“Simple… it gave us a chance to settle scores with the Consortium.”

“So you knew in advance this was going to happen?”

“Yes… does that disturb you?”

“You could have warned us.”

“If we had done that… the Consortium would have noticed and suspected a trap. I do not think it would have stopped Rankor from attacking the counterpart but he would have brought more men… which would have put you, the counterpart, and my own men in greater danger.”

“I see. May I ask my second question?”

“Yes,” the leader sighed.

“What do you intend to do with us now?”

“You are a Protector… therefore if you chose you may join the Conclave. As for the counterpart… I think he would be safer with me.”

“And why should I believe you are any better than Rankor.”

“Let’s just say I have the counterpart’s best interests at heart,” The leader chuckled as he turned away from the edge to begin his climb up the ramp.

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Prelate Lorien paced the stuffy room of the underground bomb shelter, his panic only hidden by his black obsidian mask. “Where are the reinforcements?”

“Sir… it is as it has been for the past two week… None of our Guild Mistresses have been able to open the door to the Void,” one of Lorien’s few surviving generals said.

“But what about the fleet around Mars… our star fortresses… the home fleet?”

“Destroyed sir… all destroyed. We must face the facts, my lordship… a new Prelate has come to replace you.”

“But how did this happen so quickly? Where did he get a fleet?”

“My lord…”

“What!”

The general was now on his knees, a gold knife in his hands. “The rebels have broken into the complex… they will be here soon.”

“The Dagger of Change…” Lorient exhaled.

The Dagger of Change… the only known weapon that could kill a Prelate… the only sane way to at least. As tradition held when an old Prelate was faced with undeniable defeat he would end his life using the gold dagger… which allowed the passing of his bonds to his birth kin over to the new Prelate. This allowed for a smooth transfer of power between generations. Only twice in the history of the Guild had a Prelate not died by the blade of the Dagger of Change. In both cases the resulting chaos had resulted in the death of millions.

“Please, my lord… we cannot hold them off for long,” the General begged again when the Prelate did not take the knife.

“You expect me to kill myself!”

“The people expect you to die like a Prelate should. The tradition must be upheld for the good of the people!”

Snatching the Dagger of Change, Lorien held it in his shaking hands even as the sound of fighting grew louder. All around him Lorien could see the expectant eyes of his birth kin… all of them waiting for him to kill himself so they might live. “Clear the room!”

“But my lord!” the general protested.

“Leave me… I will not have an audience to my own end.”

One by one the birth kin left… the general last of all. When they were all gone Lorien locked and bolted the door. “I will not fall on my sword… not to help in the rising of an Abomination!”

Going to a computer Lorien accessed the planetary defense grid, specified an array of antimatter warheads. Selecting his target to be the very room he was in, Lorien did not show a moment of hesitation when he pressed the launch button.

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Gerick stood by Kentor on the observation deck of the Armada’s flagship, watching the bombardment of Earth below. “Pretty isn’t it?” he asked his newly bonded counterpart.

Kentor, his blond hair in a tangled mess, his white robe soiled, and his white-on-white eyes shot with veins of red, only gurgled as a line of drool ran down his face.

Seeing the drool, Gerick took out a white handkerchief from his pocket, wiping the wet spot away.

Breaking Kentor had not proven difficult… the man had a low threshold for pain… his will spineless. Gerick only hoped Joshua would prove to be more interesting. Given the years of physical torture the young man had already endured Gerick suspected he would. Gerick had to be careful though just thinking of Joshua only reminded him of Kentor’s shortcomings… which were many… but until he had Joshua, Gerick could not afford to be too rough on the blond counterpart.

“Kentor, are you sure you don’t know where Joshua is?”

“Don’t… don’t know,” Gerick heard Kentor stutter, more drool running down his mouth.

Wiping the counterpart’s face again, Gerick nodded. “And I believe you, Kentor… I really do.”

Gerick had no choice but to believe Kentor. When the counterpart had first told Gerick he did not know, the Prelate had become so enraged he had mentally ravaged Kentor mind… looking for any proof of deceit. He did not succeed in finding any, the only real result being Kentor left in his present drooling state.

Just then a bright flash filled the view ports, blinding Gerick for several seconds. Once he could see again he looked back down on the battle and saw what had been part of the Rocky Mountains was now a giant crater.

Reaching into his pocket Gerick took out a communicator. “General Felix what happened?”

“We do not know, my lord. But we think…”

“Yes?”

“We think it was an antimatter bomb.”

“Did we do that?”

“No, my lord… the bomb was launched from planet side.”

“Why would the Prelate launch an antimatter strike on his own planet? What was so important about those coordinates?”

“We do not know, my lord… shall we call off the attack till we find out what happened?”

“No… press forward. I personally want to watch as Lorien kills himself with the Dagger of Change.”

“I shall keep you informed then, sir,” General Felix said as he signed off.

“Well, Kentor, shall we retire to our chambers?” Gerick asked as he turned his attention back on the counterpart.

Kentor let out a soft groan.

“Now now, dear… that is no way for a man in love to act.”

A single tear rolled down Kentor’s face… a tear that Gerick quickly licked up with his long tongue.

Taking hold of the counterpart's hand Gerick led him away from the observation deck and toward the torture chamber that was the Prelate’s bedroom.

The Leader… as the head of the Conclave was known had once had a real name. He once had been a free man. He had once been the defacto leader of an entire world in fact. But as high as he had risen in the Guild, it did not compare to his fall when the woman he had be charged to protect had given birth to a Prelate, costing him everything that seemed worth living for… his sister, wife, and his child. At least he thought it did. That had all changed the day the counterpart, the one named Joshua, had arrived. For as with all Guild’s men, the Leader, whose name had once been Falcon, knew the product of his own seed.

Watching his son brought back so many memories, some of them happy but most painful. When Prelate Lorien had ordered his life spared while his sister was burned at the stake, Falcon had not seen it as an act of mercy. The pain for a Protector enduring the death of his charge is often told to children to scare them into obedience as most Protectors did not survive but died a slow death, their will to live lost. Falcon had almost not survived… would not have if it had not been the Prelate's orders to keep him alive so that he might be made an example of.

“Joshua… what am I ever to do with you? Why has fate brought you to me?” Falcon sighed as he watched Joshua sleeping on the floor, Brail spooned up against him. While Joshua was indeed a man he had so much of his mother in him… his pale skin, wavy brown hair, even his naiveté reminded Falcon of the only person who had come close to the love he had felt for his sister. Already he was starting to feel the same about his son.

As he continued watching over Joshua, Falcon saw the young man open his white glowing eyes, appearing to stare right at the leader of the Brotherhood. Those white eyes, deep with yearning called out to Falcon, begging to be drunk from. For the first time since his sister’s death Falcon felt the moisture of his own tears run down his face.

Joshua, his face wearing a sad smile, lifted Brail’s arm off his bare body as he slipped out from under the blanket. Naked he climbed onto his feet and walked over to where Falcon had been watching him.

“I… I never thanked you for saving us,” Joshua whispered, lest he awaken Brail.

“You’re welcome,” Falcon adverted his eyes, trying not to stare at Joshua’s bare form lest he arouse him. He did not succeed very well. Not with Joshua resting his head on the leader’s shoulder.

“Why do you watch me so?” Joshua asked as he looked into Falcon’s flaming eyes.

“Does it make you uncomfortable?”

“No… it actually makes me feel safe. I just never see you sleep.”

“Protectors don’t need sleep.”

“Brail sleeps a lot,” Joshua chuckled.

“That is because sleeping is still a habit for him. Slowly though he will sleep less and less till he finds he does not sleep at all.”

“But won’t that mean he will not have dreams?”

“A Protector is not supposed to have dreams… his only concern is the safety of his charge.”

“But…” the young man protested.

“Joshua… you are such an idealist… just like your mother,” Falcon thought to himself. “Joshua, every person… great or small, has a certain role to fulfill in life. Fighting it only brings grief.”

“But papa!” Joshua said before he realized it.

“What did you call me?” Falcon said shocked.

“But sir,” Joshua quickly recovered.

“No… that’s not what you said. You called me ‘papa’.”

“I know… I don’t know why I said that. Both my mother and father are dead.”

Falcon then slapped Joshua on the back with the intention of telling him to go back to bed. The result, however, was causing the young man to curl into a ball, crying. It was then that Falcon remembered the mass of scars he had seen on the counterpart’s back. “Joshua… I’m sorry. I should not have done that.

Joshua continued to sob.

Carefully Falcon placed his hand back on Joshua’s spine, massaging the spot that he had hit till Joshua’s crying died down to a soft whimper. “Joshua… why was this done to you?”

“Punishment,” Joshua whispered.

“Why were you punished? I cannot picture you ever doing anything that would earn such treatment.”

“My mother was a traitor, my father a Guild’s man.”

“A traitor?” Falcon asked confused… if anything Estelle had been a patriot.

“Yes… she… my father…” Joshua struggled to explain.

“I think I understand,” Falcon sighed as he worked his fingers into Joshua’s tense neck. Estelle crime had been falling in love with a Guild’s man… an understandable situation given the level of hatred of the Guild that existed on Wor. Joshua, however, had committed no wrong. If anyone should have been punished it should have been Falcon for abandoning Estelle on Wor.

“Papa…” Joshua said again and was not corrected.

“Yes, my son.” Falcon smiled as he joined Joshua on the floor, wrapping his chiseled arms around the young man’s waist.

“Is it ok if I call you papa?”

“If I may call you son,” Falcon agreed as he kissed the back of Joshua’s neck. It pained him but he was not ready to tell Joshua the truth just yet.

Joshua let out a sigh. “I would like that.”

“So would I.”

With that the two fell asleep in each other’s arms.

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If Austin had known all that was involved in becoming an oath brother he might not agree to it. First there had been the fasting, then three weeks of abstinence. Those had at least not been too painful. The etching of a tattoo around his right arm and the circumcision on the other hand still hurt and they had happened days ago. It would all be over tonight, however… after tonight he would be master of Vard’s bed.

For Vard things had been much easier… having already gone through the circumcision during his right of manhood. Still, as the days of abstinence slowly passed Vard’s hungry look returned.

“I don’t understand… why all these stupid rules?” Austin complained and not for the first time.

“Let me ask you this… what earns a hunter more honor… the one who catches a fish or one that kills a bear?” Broken Claw asked.

“The bear hunter of course?”

“Why?”

“Well a bear is more dangerous than a fish… the hunter could be killed.”

“Correct… the bear hunter earns more respect because his sacrifice is greater for he was willing to give his life for the good of the clan. Do you understand now?”

“Yes… uhmmm… no I don’t.”

“By refusing food and sex… by having your body marked… you are showing how much you value your friendship with Vard.”

“So the more I suffer…?”

“The more the people will respect and listen to you. Is that not important to you?”

“I don’t see why anyone should listen to me though.”

“Then you don’t know what it is you are really doing,” Broken Claw sighed. “Vard is clan chief… more than that… he is now emperor of Santor. Men like him don’t go marrying common folk… nor become oath brothers to ordinary men.”

“So you say I am to become a nobleman,” Austin said with distaste.

“Is that so bad?”

“Well nobles are weak… helpless… stupid.”

“Many of them are… can you say the same of Sparrow, White Cloud, and me?”

“By the light no!”

“Then you will not be in bad company.”

“But…”

“Austin… no one is forcing you to become Vard oath brother. You still have a choice. If you don’t love him…”

“I do love him!”

“More than any other… more than Joshua?”

Austin had to think about that for a moment… He still loved Joshua… loved him a great deal even though he had not seen him in months. There was only one problem with Joshua… he was perfect, too perfect. Yes Vard could be annoying, arrogant, hedonistic, and brash but it was those imperfections that made the man so charming. “Yes… I love him… more than anyone.”

“Then I think you can ‘endure’ the heavy burden of nobility,” Broken Claw laughed.

The day before the ceremony, Broken Claw led Austin away from the village as he was not to see Vard until the next night. On that night he was stripped of all clothing, Broken Claw then covered Austin’s body with a fine white powder before using a burnt stick to etch black runes into his skin.

“Now you look like a proper clan’s man.” Broken Claw grinned as he examined his work.

Austin let out a deep sigh. “I feel like an idiot.”

“Don’t worry. It will all wash off soon enough. Now go down to the beach… you will find Vard waiting there.

“Ok…” Austin nodded hoping that no one would see him.

He was not so lucky… Arriving on the white sand just as the moon reached its zenith Austin could see thousands upon thousands of people lined down the coast as far as he could see. Also on the beach was a giant bonfire sending flames fifty feet into the air and standing in front of it… was Vard… Where Austin’s body had been covered with flour and marked by black runes… Vard’s skin was pitch black except for the white marks on his body and his now bleached blond hair. There was a wild… almost primitive look to him that spoke to Austin’s basic instincts. Just looking at him Austin felt the blood rush to his sex.

Austin next heard the sound of a deep drum as Sparrow, his skin and hair dyed red and dressed only in a white loincloth, came out of the crowd. “May those who would become brothers step forward!”

Austin, running, arrived first by Sparrow’s side. Vard for his part came walking with his usual arrogant saunter. When he did arrive, Austin saw that not only the hair on Vard’s head had changed… so had the bush around his erect manhood.

“I see you two are pretty eager,” Sparrow chuckled softly, lest the gathered crowd heard him.

“Yes we are,” Vard said with a wolfish grin that sent a shiver down Austin’s spine.

“Then I will be quick,” Sparrow promised as he drew out a knife. He then took turns making shallow cuts in each man’s hand, dark blood oozing out.

“Now what do we do?” Austin asked… feeling a little ill on the sight of blood.

“Take hold of each other’s hands,” Sparrow replied.

Austin nodded and offered his uninjured hand to Vard.

“Your other hand, Austin,” Vard laughed.

“But…” Austin protested.

“Austin,” Vard growled.

“Ok…ok,” Austin sighed as he switched hands. As soon as his bloody hand was within reach Vard took hold of it tightly, the blood squeezed out of both their hands, mingling together. For Austin the pain sent his eyes wide but at least he did not scream.

For a long while, Vard held his iron grip as the blood stained the white sand red. Finally he let go and raised his bloody fist over his head to the roar of the crowd. As for Austin, Sparrow ended up having to raise his hand up for him for he was in shock.

Vard had to call out Austin’s name three times before he got a response. “Austin?”

“Yes,” the wiry man managed to finally whisper while Sparrow used his loin cloth to bandage both men’s hands.

“Are you alright?” Vard asked.

“Yeah… yeah I guess I am.”

“You guess you are?” Vard chuckled.

“I don’t like blood… ok!” Austin shouted… feeling as if he were being mocked.

This only sent Vard into a deeper laugh as he reached over and pulled his now oath brother into a hug. “I am glad I am not taking you to war with me.”

“War?” Austin tried to ask confused… but was stopped by Vard’s black stained lips. Soon both of them were rolling in the sand… three weeks of pent up passions consuming them

“Take us back to the Void,” Vard begged as he penetrated Austin with his hardened manhood, remembering how good it had felt.

“But,” Austin said between moans.

Seeing his oath brother would need convincing, Vard made a deep thrust. It did the trick. The two quickly faded out of view. Almost as soon as they were gone however… they reappeared, their bodies rolling across the sand as they were thrown out of the void.

Vard was the first to come to a stop, standing up with some difficulty as is eyes searched the fire lit beach for Austin. He soon found him, just at the edge of the waves, his face down in the sand, his body not moving.

“Austin!” Vard shouted as he raced to the man’s side.

Rolling Austin onto his back, holding him, Vard saw the young man’s eyes were rolled in the back of his head, his body shaking with tiny tremors.

“Help!” Vard shouted as tears started streaming down his face.