Male Lovers of Silvery Earth Volume 2

by Barbara G. Tarn

  Male Lovers of Silvery Earth

  Volume 2

  by Barbara G.Tarn

  ***

  Barbara G.Tarn copyright © 2016

  cover art by Sir Wendigo

  electronic edition by Unicorn Productions

  September 2016

  ***

  Table of Contents

  Colors (Northern Kingdoms, 1220)

  Cinder Boy (Northern Kingdoms, 1228)

  Alion Albright (Northern Kingdoms, 1366)

  The Jesters (Southern Kingdoms, 1447)

  The King God of Arquon (Southern Kingdoms, 1450)

  The Queen's Son (Amazons Country, 1800)

  About

  Colors

  White as snow, as Nerian's skin and pure heart.

  Black as ebony, as the Sorcerer King's clothes and soul.

  Red as blood, the blood of confrontations meant to happen.

  Yellow as honey, as Riander's eyes, as the golden crown restored to the rightful heir.

  Blue as the sky, the freedom, the bright future.

  A fairy tale revisited, a sweet m/m romance, a Silvery Earth novella.

  1. White as Snow

  Nerian opened the window to let in the cool morning air. The sky outside was blue and cloudless, but the breeze made it clear summer was over.

  Nerian smiled and sat on the bench under the windowsill. Soon a family of swallows glided onto the stone of the windowsill. He'd seen the parents arrive with the spring and now they left with three little swallows in their wake. Their nest was right under the roof of the tower where Nerian lived and he'd often watched the adult birds feeding the little ones from his window.

  "You're leaving already?" he asked, knowing it was time for the swallows to go back south. He could feel the fall coming in the air as much as them.

  The couple chirped a good-bye. Nerian was always amazed that he understood the birds' languages. Swallows and sparrows were his best friends. The night owl that lived in the next tower sometimes kept him awake at night with spooky stories.

  "I'll miss you guys," he said with a sigh. In winter only ravens kept him company, and their voices weren't as gentle as swallows'.

  He watched the birds fly away and put his chin on his crossed hands, staring at the landscape outside. The mountains looming behind the walls and towers of the castle – snow had already fallen on the highest peaks. The forest spreading at its feet. And further away the hills and plains he'd never visit, since he was locked in that room.

  He sat straight and gasped in awe as a winged being glided towards the mountain slopes. He knew they had a nest there and wondered if he'd ever be able to talk to any of them. They had human bodies like him, but also big feathered wings that carried them where they wanted. Males and females wore tight-fitting clothes and mostly short hair.

  They never came close enough to enter the arrows' shooting range, but Nerian's keen eyes caught all the details of the feathers and the clothes and the androgynous faces of the winged beings. He had eyes as keen as the falcons that sometimes swept by.

  The winged one vanished and Nerian sighed again. Hopefully his breakfast would arrive soon. The breeze pushed his long black hair onto his face and he tucked it behind his ears. He turned back to the room that was his world except for glimpses of whatever he could see happening outside of the castle windows.

  The square tower was divided into two rooms by a staircase. A little door allowed him to move from one room to the other – he was currently in the bedroom, but kept his few books and some writing implements in the ante-room. The bedroom had no door to the stairs, only the passage that led to the ante-room.

  The canopied bed was unmade, so he pulled up the blankets and sheets, and fluffed the pillow filled with feathers. He closed the curtains and went to the basin and jug to wash his face. Still no trace of facial hair, but he could feel his cheekbones now. He didn't have a mirror, but his face must have lost the roundness of childhood.

  Tying his hair in a ponytail with a leather thong, he headed for the chest that held his clothes. Another summer gone. He searched for the woolen tunic and hoped he hadn't grown too much, or he'd have to ask for a new one that fit him. He wasn't getting any taller anymore, but even though he wasn't allowed outside of his rooms, he did exercise every day, and had put on muscle that strained to be contained by the older tunics.

  He caressed the one he was wearing when he'd been locked up some ten years earlier, wondering what had happened to that child, that prince that had good cotton tunics in the summer and warm velvet clothes in winter. The cotton he now wore was rough and more for a peasant than a noble young man.

  I'm nineteen, he thought. I wonder what Kariel will do with me. Why didn't he kill me when he killed my father and stole his castle and his lands?

  His late mother had wished for a child with skin as white as snow, hair as black as ebony and lips as red as blood – and her wish had been granted. Unfortunately she didn't live to meet Kariel but passed away along with Nerian's sister.

  Nerian had strong memories of the Sorcerer King coming to power and throwing him in that tower, but hadn't seen him very often since. Kariel never visited, therefore he couldn't ask the Sorcerer King what his fate would be. He could see the usurper when he walked by or exercised in the courtyard, but hadn't talked to him since he'd been locked up.

  He took off the nightgown and pulled on a tunic and breeches, struggling to adjust the tunic to his shoulders. He'd have to ask for a new one.

  He headed for his desk in the next room, stopping in the closet with its wooden seat to relieve himself. The other room was similar to the bedroom, except it had a desk, a couple of stools and some shelves where he kept his treasured books – all from childhood, since afterward he hadn't been deemed worthy to continue his princely education.

  The usual servant brought him breakfast, barely bowing and not daring to look him in the eyes.

  "Can you please inform the Sorcerer King that I'll need a new winter tunic? Or at least a cloak?"

  The servant nodded and rushed out, leaving the tray of food on his desk. At least they weren't starving him. Nerian still had his appetite, and wolfed down the pastries and tea before pulling out his journal.

  The swallows are gone. Soon it will be winter. They will light the fire in the hearth and bring me warm water for the bath-tub. I wish I could be part of the castle life. This tower is boring. I wish the winged beings would see me and take me away.

  The quill broke before he added how lonely he felt. He decided not to write it down. What if Kariel came one day and read everything he'd written? Well, just thoughts of a lone boy who had grown up alone, but who knew what the cruel sorcerer could do with it...

  He put away the journal and took one of the illustrated manuscripts. The morning went by, the midday meal came and went, sparrows visited and interrupted his reading. And then the door opened at an unusual time.

  Startled, the young man looked up, and met the dark eyes of the Sorcerer King. Kariel was tall and handsome, with black hair and an oval, clean-shaven face. His lips thinned at the sight of Nerian and he frowned as Nerian asked, "How come you're here?"

  "Just checking," Kariel snapped, retreating towards the door.

  "You haven't changed at all, unlike your old counselor," Nerian said. Sir Streilan's hair was gray when he had reached the castle and it had become white since. Sparrows said the two men were the same age, but it wasn't possible since Kariel looked so much younger than his faithful companion.

  "Streilan came to see you?" Kariel narrowed his eyes.

  "The other day." The young man shrugged and looked away. "He was also checking." He smiled ruefully and looked at
Kariel again. "Was his report unsatisfactory?"

  "He didn't tell me he saw you."

  "Oh." Nerian paused. "Can I have more books?" He looked at Kariel, hopeful. "I know these by heart..." He patted the pile that had come from his room. "And I requested a new tunic." He showed how the one he was wearing was too tight on his shoulders.

  "I'll think about it." Kariel turned on his heels and quickly left the room in the tower, leaving Nerian puzzled and wondering what that was all about.

  ***

  Riander pulled the reins of his horse, stopping the pursuit of the stag he was hunting to look at the sky, puzzled. Over the branches of the oaks and maple trees, he could see two winged beings gliding towards the nearby mountain. Oblivious of his prey, he spurred the horse in another direction at a light trot. He'd seen many winged beings from the towers of Ker Garenn, but hadn't yet been out when one of them passed by.

  "Your Majesty!" Danhin called, alarmed, following him. "Where are you going?"

  "I want to find out where those beings live!" Riander answered, pointing at the sky and feeling exhilarated.

  He wasn't sure why he was trying to follow creatures who could fly on the ground, but he was really curious to know more about them. They obviously lived high up on the peaks where men didn't go, but maybe he could reach a spot where he could observe them from a distance.

  "But your majesty!" Danhin protested. "We'll lose the hunting party!"

  "Who cares? The hunters can take down the prey for the banquet..."

  Riander put his bow on his shoulder and the arrow back in the quiver, shrugging his personal servant's protests off. Danhin was a couple of years older than him and his most faithful servant, the only one Riander really trusted at his father's castle, but sometimes he was a little over-dramatic with security issues.

  Riander loved hunting alone in the forest, even though that drove his council crazy. He was king, he wasn't supposed to wander around on his own! What if someone attacked and killed him? What would happen to his castle and his lands? Danhin of course supported these theories, but stuck to him even when he wandered off like he was doing now.

  Not that Riander cared. Not too much. He was an introvert and would rather lock himself in his apartments than deal with the council and the subjects and the administration and the kingly duties... Lately the demands were to find a wife and produce an heir, for the gods' sake. He was his father's only son, and he was already thirty, what was he waiting for?

  Riander wished he could be free like those winged beings he was following. As the mulberry trees opened into a clearing, he tried to orient himself. He seemed to be on the way to Ker Daragon, where he could probably ask for shelter if he didn't go back right now. The day was almost gone, and he might have to sleep in the forest anyway.

  "Your majesty, we should go back," Danhin said, panting as if he'd been doing the running instead of his horse.

  "Why, you don't like sleeping under the stars like when we were younger?" Riander grinned and winked. "Come on, Danhin, we're fine. Imagine if we catch one of those winged beings."

  "I wouldn't try that, your majesty," Danhin chided. "I heard that a hunter who shot one down couldn't even find the corpse."

  "Really?" Riander wondered about that. He didn't want to kill the beings, he only wanted to capture one and see it from up close. "Let's go a little farther," he decided, spurring his horse again. "We can always ask for shelter at Ker Daragon."

  "I wouldn't want to meet the Sorcerer King!" Danhin protested, still following him.

  Riander shrugged. He wasn't afraid of the usurper that sat in Ker Daragon. He'd heard King Kariel was a handsome man, and Riander was curious. Maybe King Kariel had a sister and he could combine a marriage with his neighbor.

  Or maybe he could ask King Kariel how he managed the pressure of not getting married. Riander knew the king of Ker Daragon didn't have a wife. They also said he didn't age, so he probably didn't need to breed to produce an heir. Riander wondered if some spell could help him do the same. He didn't mind being king as long as family matters were not put on the table.

  He felt he never had a family and didn't want one. His mother had died in childbirth and his father had never remarried. He'd been a lonely prince who preferred reading to playing with other children. He'd dutifully learned everything he was supposed to know, but hadn't embraced the throne with great enthusiasm.

  Unfortunately his father had passed away in a hunting accident and he'd been crowned in his place at twenty-two, narrowly escaping a marriage arranged by his father. For the past eight years he'd reigned as best as he could without taking a wife and resisting all offers. And when he had enough of the court and his counselors, he just took off with only the company of faithful Danhin, like he was doing now.

  The forest was quiet. The forest was his friend. He wasn't afraid of bears or boars – humans scared him much more. He wasn't afraid of magical creatures either, and felt actually drawn to them, probably because he had a faery godmother. Well, he wasn't sure she was a fairy, although she had pointed ears and long golden blond hair, but she could do magic.

  She said she was a healer and seemed to always feel when he hurt physically. Which didn't make him feel invulnerable, but he wasn't afraid of wounds and broken bones either. He knew she'd come if he called her with his mind. He had no idea of what kind of bond it was – magic, probably – but he took it at face value.

  And she heard him better when he was outside the castle walls. She'd been almost a mother for him through the years. She said she'd been a friend of his mother, and he believed her. Maybe he should ask her about those winged beings.

  But for now he was having too much fun trying to keep up with them through the forest.

  ***

  Nerian took off the leather thong and let his hair fall freely on his shoulders. He slipped under the covers with a shiver. The floor was cold and he was glad to go to bed. As he snuggled up, hugging the pillow, he thought about Kariel's visit.

  What puzzled him the most was that the man hadn't changed at all in ten years. He was exactly as Nerian remembered him. Tall and handsome and stern and strong, dressed mostly in black and sharp as a blade... Nerian couldn't decipher him, though. And the little boy inside him could still see the powerful newcomer tear his father to pieces without touching him.

  Nerian sighed. Oh, well, if he decides to kill me, there's nothing I can do anyway... If only he would set me free...

  Wishful thinking. Kariel couldn't afford to let him go. Nerian was the legitimate prince of Ker Daragon after all.

  He's a handsome man. The thought startled him. What was he thinking? Kariel was his enemy! He'd killed his father and locked him in a tower!

  Maybe I've been alone for too long... His loneliness was killing him. Bird chatter wasn't enough anymore. More had come, since cats had started vanishing when the Sorcerer King had set foot in Ker Daragon, but they were still birds and he was human.

  He missed human relationships. He missed a human touch. Maybe he should have asked for a woman while he was at it. His body was definitely awake and he craved more than just his hand.

  Heck, he'd almost jumped to his feet and rushed into Kariel's arms to beg him! Only the Sorcerer King's icy stance had blocked him on his stool. But he felt he was losing control of himself. He wanted to scream and cry at the same time.

  Hopefully Kariel's visit meant his life would change soon.

  ***

  Riander had dozed off against a tree long after sunset and woke up a few hours after dawn. Danhin was still asleep and obviously uncomfortable. Of course the winged beings had vanished and by now Ker Daragon was closer than Ker Garenn. He might as well reach his neighbor's castle, have some food and get back to Ker Garenn by the unpaved road, which would be much faster than traversing the forest.

  Riander sighed and shook his servant awake. Danhin opened his eyes with a start and groaned as he stretched his limbs.

  "You know, your majesty, it was much easier when we
were younger," he complained. "We're not getting any younger and you still don't have an heir..."

  "Hush," Riander said softly, raising a hand. "You don't have a family either."

  "Because I promised I'd get married after you." Danhin rolled his eyes. "Although I'm losing hope by now."

  "I free you of your promise, Danhin." Riander smiled. "When we go back, I'll make sure to prepare a wedding banquet for you and Inetina."

  Danhin blushed, which made Riander chuckle. Seeing a grown man with chestnut brown hair and a shade of beard blush was quite a sight. He knew his servant had a girlfriend and they were in love. He'd tried to convince Danhin to get married without waiting for him before – without mentioning the lady's name.

  "Don't worry, Danhin, I'll be fine. I haven't fallen in love yet, and I don't see any interesting alliance, unless the king of Ker Daragon has a sister."

  "I don't think he does," Danhin grumbled, looking away.

  "We'll soon know." Riander shrugged. "Get on that horse and let's reach Ker Daragon."

  Riander patted his horse's neck and climbed onto the saddle. He should stop following magical creatures. Everybody knew what happened in Ker Eziel when the prince heir summoned a demon. Not that Riander wished to see a creature of darkness, but still...

  Riander spurred his horse towards Ker Daragon, yawning in the pearly green light of the woods. He should also stop sleeping under the stars. Danhin was right, it wasn't as much fun now as it had been years earlier. He sorely missed his bed as he tried to ignore the soreness in his body. He wasn't going to show his weakness to his personal servant, though.

  I'll recover tonight, in my bed...

  ***

  Nerian was bluntly dragged out of bed and thrown to the cold floor by strong hands. Still dazed and half asleep, he didn't struggle much as someone tied his wrists together with a rope. He saw a tall man in hunting clothes who avoided his stare while he pulled him to his feet.

  "Who are you, what's going on?" Nerian panicked as the man grabbed the rope and his wrists to carry him out of the tower room. "Wait, can I wear shoes? Clothes? Is it because I asked for a new tunic and books?"