by Pfantazm

Guys, practice safe sex. Practice it the same way you practiced the piano as a kid: for a few hours each and every day, no matter how much you want to go outside, because your mother makes you. Urgh. Forget I said that last part.

You can send me your comments, plans for world peace, and therapy bills because you suddenly find you think about your mother during sex (urgh) to pfantazm-at-hotmail-dot-com.

	to the local constabulary's preferred watering hole. Bastian took this as a bad sign. The scene inside was chaos. The very same local guard force was about to charge in. Bastian gestured to his gold tabard, which indicated he had a special talent to aid the King, and said, "Might I? I can clear up the brawl much faster than you, and at less risk." The captain told him, "If you can. We'll be right behind you." Whether this was threat or promise was left unsaid. Bastian prepared an illusion and burst through the tavern door. He projected his voice, using the false Old Language words, "Adzurae ignita" to get the attentions of as many brawlers as possible. Most of them leapt to escape the wave of flame they saw overhead. He lowered it to give the remaining few the idea. The illusion dissipated and the city guard found the courage to go inside. A fellow knight, a High Guardsman, approached him. "Are you Sir Bastian?" "I am. Are you Sir Madoc of Fieldgate?" "Yes," his target replied. "That was most impressive, what you did there." "It was effective for stopping the fight. We'll talk later. For now, we must deal with this business." Bastian smelled Sir Madoc's breath for alcohol and found none. That was reassuring. "I hope for our mission's sake that you're not the sort of person whom trouble follows wherever he goes." The mage strode off to see if any fallen patrons needed seeing to. Precognition was not one of Bastian's talents, but he saw two things. One was that Sir Madoc had been very close to the center of the brawl, and two was that it was going to be a long afternoon. Once the brawl was settled, and the offenders jailed, Bastian started to get to know Sir Madoc by getting his side of things. Bastian had been asked to accompany the new team of Sir Madoc and Thom for three reasons. His gift of the ferreae manicae would be most helpful, King Dunstan was unsure that Thom could be trusted, and Sir Rhys believed that Sir Madoc of Fieldgate merited watching. His surveillance would begin immediately. "What exactly was it that caused the brawl?" he asked. Sir Madoc told his view of things: about the young man whose romantic encounter had set the thugs to seek violence, how Sir Madoc had interceded and how the brawl evolved from there. Bastian had no magical means to determine the truth of what a man said, but he was a good judge of character. He believed Sir Madoc. He seemed to be just as dutiful as Sir Rhys had suggested. "Did anything unusual happen when I arrived?" "Nothing much of note. There was a high keening wail, you filled the ceiling with blue fire, and all the brawlers ducked to avoid it." "I see. That's all you remember?" "Yes, Sir Bastian. May I know why you pose so many questions?" Sir Madoc asked. "I have been asked by the King to gauge your value to him. After your deception, the details of which I'm not entirely clear about, he wants to be assured that you are still loyal to him. Since I was not present for the brawl, I must ask to know how you acted." Sir Madoc had his eyes averted and was nodding. Very self-effacing. If there is any wrongdoing here, Bastian thought, the other man, this Thom At-the-Well must be behind it. But what power does he have over Sir Madoc? "Where is your partner now?" Bastian asked. "He is searching the forests east of the Greypoints for a witness," Sir Madoc said, looking up. "A witness? To what?" "He was a prisoner in Kraid's camp for a long time. If anyone can give us the information we need, this man, Lennox by name, can." Bastian paused before asking his next question. "How certain are you that Thom will return, either with or without this Lennox?" Sir Madoc stared Bastian down, a definite fire in his eyes. "He will meet with us here. He is making one pass through the Greypoint Forest. He will join us in one week. That I can guarantee you." "You must know that these are the sorts of questions our superiors want me to answer, in addition to aiding you with your captures," Bastian said calmly. "I do know it, and I can understand our king's reluctance to credit our story, but Thom is a good man. I would not take him as a partner lightly." Bastian found this answer odd. He himself did not know the reasoning behind such intense scrutiny on a new guard. Such a dangerous mission, and the King requests his presence as chaperon. Bastian left these questions unasked, lest Sir Madoc, or Thom, find an advantage to use against him. The mage conducted the rest of the interview without straying from the topic of the brawl. The other answers would come with time. The next few days passed slowly. Sir Madoc spent much of his time sparring with the local guards, or sometimes talking with Bastian about his work and what his role on this mission would be. Bastian immersed himself in meditation to speed the time along. Being one of only a couple of magic-users among the Guard meant that his plate was often full. The delay in proceeding was a welcome chance to catch up on his neglected studies. One difficulty arose from the fact that Bastian preferred to meditate nude. A mage's meditation consisted of seeking and contacting places of power within himself, not only in his mind, but in his body. For this, he would rather be in his natural state. So when he meditated during the day, he wore only his robe, and at night he meditated in the dark in the raw. Despite their requests, Sir Madoc and Bastian were put into the same room. The garrison would not spare the space to take up two two-man rooms for two people, no matter who they were. Sir Madoc was often in the room while Bastian meditated, so he wore the robe for propriety's sake. These sessions were less productive though. It was one night near the middle of the week Thom At-the-Well had to appear that his meditation was interrupted. The bedroom was cloaked in darkness. Bastian sat robeless on the bed, his mind searching for spell-points, his legs crossed, his hands on his knees, and his eyes closed. His concentration was broken by a noise. Sir Madoc groaned. He was rolling around on the bed. Was the man in pain? Bastian unfolded his limbs and crossed the room to where Sir Madoc slept. He crouched by his side and reached out toward his body. "Ohhhhh, Thom...," Madoc breathed. Bastian paused, his hand in the air. What in...? Sir Madoc rolled over once more, casting the covers off of his body and exposing his very stiff penis. He groaned and thrust his hips upward. The mage watched slackjawed as his fellow knight pumped shot after shot of semen into the air and down onto his stomach as he slept. When he'd finished, he rolled over once more, turning his back to Bastian. Silently, the mage crept back to his own bed. Well, he thought, that explains some things. Sir Madoc's confidence that Thom would return, for one. But Sir Madoc, with another man? He'd heard of such things, whispered around stables or on street corners, but he'd never known anyone involved. Bastian climbed into bed. He would not be able to concentrate more this night. He touched his own erection, dismissed it as nothing and lay on his stomach. Best that he not mention this. It would only be embarrassing for them both. After a while, Bastian found his rest. True to his promise, Sir Madoc's partner arrived in one week's time. The two men were in their room. Sir Madoc was tending to his sword after a practice session. Suddenly his head snapped up and he put the sword away. Bastian watched him go over to the door, getting to it just as someone rapped at it. Sir Madoc opened the door, a wide smile on his face. The mage had seen such behavior in dogs before. He tucked this away as being significant. "By the gods, what happened to him?" Sir Madoc asked. Bastian saw a blond in livery half-carry a redheaded man into their chamber. He looked haggard, as though he'd not been allowed to eat or sleep. "You should have seen him when I found him," the blond replied. "He should be alright in a day or so if he can get some proper sleep. He's been getting some on the road, but it's not been very deep or for very long. Here, help me get him to a bed." Sir Madoc took the redhead's other side. They led him to the bed Sir Madoc had been using. He collapsed onto it. "How has he been eating?" Bastian asked. "Everything I've given him, he's kept down, but - by Braggia!" The redhead stirred to see what was wrong. "What?" Sir Madoc asked. "His eyes! The last time I saw eyes like that I was staring down a wolf." Most people had this reaction to him. They found his eyes frightening. They were spell-points allowing him to see in the dark, and so his magic touched them, giving them a strange appearance. It kept most people distant from him. In this case, though, it provided him with another clue. Bastian averted his eyes and looked at the emaciated man. "This must be Lennox." "Yes. Are you the wizard who is helping us?" "I am," he replied, looking his way again. "Sir Bastian of Pharlight, at your service." He extended his hand to shake. "Huh. Thom At-the-Well. But I'm sure you knew that." Bastian withdrew his hand when Thom didn't return the gesture. "How did he get this way? Did the Marauders abuse him?" "Not that I know. They cast him out when Madoc and I escaped from their camp. Since then he's been scared to death they're coming back for him. He wouldn't sleep and after a while he couldn't get enough to eat. "He wants to give us what help he can, but I'd like him to come with us. He'll be able to help us best when we're chasing Kraid down. He's not sure he can risk betraying them like that. "Now," Thom finished, "if you two don't mind, I've been riding and tending to him and not getting much sleep myself. I need to lie down." "Still," the mage said, "someone should watch him. Do you have any knowledge of healing, Sir Madoc?" "I don't," he replied. The redhead was stirring. "Then I should stay with him. I will keep watch over him." Bastian prepared a sleep spell and cast it on Lennox, touching his forehead. "The warder should be more gracious about providing a second room for us, now that we number four." "We'll see to it," Sir Madoc said with a smile. Bastian looked at the pair of them; Sir Madoc, taller, dark of hair and blue of eye, and the thinner Thom, fair, with hazel eyes. He tried not to picture what they might do in their new room. The mage suppressed a yawn as they left. He felt sleepy for some reason. Lennox was at peace. He could use a nap himself. He undressed and nodded off in his own bed. Bastian woke a few hours later, remembering a dream about Sir Madoc and Thom only vaguely. All he could recall was that the two of them had lain together. His own aching member was testament to that. This had to stop. What they did together was not a concern of his so long as they performed their given task, and so long as Thom was not using it as a hold over Sir Madoc. He needed to stop thinking about it lest it cloud his judgment. Instead he checked on Lennox. The spell was still at work, and would be for some hours yet. So returned to his studies. It was frustrating. He hadn't made any progress in improving his powers in weeks. He knew there were more energies within him; he could feel them. He just couldn't find them. The frustration affected his concentration, making his work that much more difficult. The pressure he was beginning to feel from the Council wasn't helping him either. If he did not continue to grow as a mage, then he would be asked, firmly, to pair with a witch for continued study. All for the betterment of the understanding of magic, so they said. But he would also have to resign from the Guard. He would be expected to concentrate on his studies, not serve the King. The Council was entirely too political for his taste. Working as a Guard sheltered him from it. If he was to choose, he'd sooner leave the Council, but the choice was not his. Unregistered mages were sought out and brought in line or killed. The Council would rule his life forever. He worked in desperation to get some evidence that he was still able to grow autonomously. None was coming. He continued to try until Lennox's sleep spell elapsed. Bastian waited for him to rouse. He didn't. He must have needed his sleep badly. It was getting late. The kitchen would close soon. Bastian was certain Lennox would want to eat when he woke. He put on his robe, pants and boots to fetch dinner for them, undressing again when he returned. He himself ate and waited for Lennox to wake. The mage gave up on the prospect of finding a new spell-point that night, and tried to improve his contact on ones he'd already found. His fire and flight needed work. At last, he heard movement across the room. Lennox was sitting up. Bastian took a cup of water from the pitcher and went to his side. "Who's there?" said Lennox. "Relax," the mage said in soothing tones. "I am Sir Bastian." He crouched at Lennox's bedside, his night vision aiding him. "How are you feeling? Rested?" he asked. "Yes. Better than I've felt in weeks." Bastian smiled. "Good. Here's water." Lennox groped in the pale starlight and found his arm. From there he felt down to the cup. He drank it down. "You must be hungry. I understand you've not eaten at all today, and it's nigh on midnight. I ordered our dinner late, but it's mostly cold now." "I am hungry. If you have food to spare, I'd be grateful for anything." Bastian went back to the table near his bed for the candle and Lennox's tray. But first, he put his robe back on. He practiced his fire and lit the candle. "You're a wizard?" Lennox asked. "A mage." "Oh," Lennox said, as though this explained everything. Bastian brought the light and food over to the redhead. He set down the candle and grabbed at his open robe. He squatted down to Lennox's level. "As I said, it's cold." "That's fine. Thank you." Lennox stared at him for a while. "Go on, then. Eat," Bastian said, chuckling. Lennox dug in. The mage worried that the food was too much for his weak stomach, or not enough to sate him. He decided to take the opportunity to get to know Lennox. Perhaps he knew something that could help him in his job as chaperon. "Sir Madoc and Thom tell me that you were in Kraid's camp for more than a year." Lennox, his mouth full, merely nodded. "Thom also said that while you came with him here, you still had not decided whether you would join us in catching him." Lennox looked Bastian in the eye. "I, ah, I've been hiding from them a while now, and mayhap I've made them into more than they are in my mind, but I have escaped them before now. They always found me, and they were always brutal. If they were to catch me now, after I helped you...." He gazed down into his platter. Bastian felt compelled to do something to ease his mind. "You were alone before. We three will protect you." He laid his hand upon Lennox's. "If you'll not accompany us, I would understand. As a citizen, not of the Guard, you cannot be forced. Let me assure you, though, that you would be safe." Lennox looked overwhelmed. His face was flushed. The mage had come on too strongly. And his eyes, most people found them menacing. Had he frightened Lennox off? "I'll, ah, I'll think about it." Bastian nodded and turned away, hiding his accursed eyes. "I won't disturb you. Please, finish eating. Whether you ride with us or not, you need to build your strength again." He returned to his bed, facing safely away and tried to relax. Soon he heard Lennox set his fork down. "Are you finished?" He didn't answer. Bastian looked his way and saw him nodding. Bastian removed the tray and asked, "Are you still tired? Would you like to sleep again?" "I'm not sure I could. I only just woke up...." "I can help with that," the mage said, eager to please. "But you should undress this time. You'll be more comfortable." "Uh...." "Don't worry. I'm a healer. I've seen it all before, but if it will help you, I'll stand over here and turn away." Not waiting for Lennox, he did so. He heard Lennox strip behind him, but he waited until he was told that he could turn around. Bastian blew out the candle and used his sleep spell once again, touching his forehead to cast it. With a weak, contented moan, Lennox was asleep again. The conversation left the mage oddly drained. He may just have ruined the mission single-handedly. Perhaps it wouldn't seem so bad tomorrow. He hung up his robe, lay under the blanket, and sleep claimed him quickly.

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