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fellowshippers2005-12-21 08:47 pm
lucky-jack.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2005-12-21 08:47 pm
The Year of the Gods. Ch:8 DM/EW
Apologies for how long it has taken me to come up with this. My life has changed so much since I stared writing this that I never seem to have time anymore. This chapter is by way of getting back into the saddle and I hope there are people out there still interested in it. Feel free to go over old chapters and refresh memories as it has been months and months and months. For those that have asked me about the fic, I hope this is a nice Xmas pressie!
Previous chapters can be found here: http://www.geocities.com/voyeur_ism/Becs_index.htm
DM/EW. Rated Nc17. An AU story set in British prehistory. Dominic is the son of a tribal chief with the weight of his village’s problems on his shoulders. When Lijah, the rival chief’s son is taken captive, the gods demand that Dominic uses his new slave to appease them
The winter solstice approached and it was cold amongst the stones, cold and full of shadows. Britain stretched white and silent in the vista from the hill, white and silent as far as the eye could see. The travelling wild men spoke of a great undertaking in the south lands. The people there were building a great temple of stones which would mark the passing of the year and the journey of the souls of the dead from life into the otherworld. In such a place the gods would be powerful. Talk even reached the Brigantes of stone being dragged by hundreds of men from the lands of the Deceangli, even further, to create this massive monument in the south. Power indeed. And perhaps the gods turned all their attention to this great undertaking for certain it was, Dominic thought, that they had deserted the Brigantes.
Dominic closed his eyes and, oblivious to the harsh chill of the frost frozen ground, sat with his back to one of the smaller stones on the western fringe of the circle. "Please", he whispered, casting his eyes upwards to the clouded grey skies above, "a sign. Tell me what to do?" He scanned the horizon for anything he could interpret, anything that may offer him some hope. All was still. No hawks hovered and waited for the kill, no rabbits foraged for grass and the gods did not speak their sighing wisdom to the trees.
The stones here were cold and the circle empty.
Lijah's words echoed around Dominic's head, "gods do not lie. Men do", and he felt his stomach lurch and a foul feeling of sickness come over him. Leaning to one side, he retched, the sobs beginning to wrack him as he did so and the terrible pain of loss making his already numb bones, number still. He sank to the ground and began to pound the frozen earth with his fists.
"You lied to me", he screamed to the air. For what else was there to scream to? Had it all been a lie? Had the devotion he'd shown to the gods been really just a powerful lie by power-hungry men? Where were the gods and why had they not put an end to this mockery of their rule? Why did they not show him a sign?
"Lijah", he screamed to the air around him and the scream seemed to bounce off of the stones and echo around the circle until it arrived back at him as a whisper of accusation. "Lijah".
He had been deserted and made a mockery of and his gods had let it happen. Had he not always acted with honour and with true belief? How had they let this happen? Dominic rolled onto his back and pressed his fists to his eyes so that all he could see was a pulsating redness which turned blacker by the seconds as his blood pounded urgently through his veins.
"I have ruined him", he whispered to the void where once the gods were. Suddenly he sat up and, as loud as he could make it, he screamed, "Danell, you bastard son of a bitch, you're mine". And, scared as he was, Dominic meant it. At that moment he did not care whether the gods existed or if they approved, he only saw a face gazing sadly at him from his mind's eye. A beautiful, familiar face with eyes like a kinder, summer sky and skin paler than winter. The vision sent a pang of misery through Dominic's heart and he closed his eyes again, this time the tears coming silently through clenched lashes and running over scarred cheeks and onto his unshaven chin. He loved Lijah but he could never have him, that was certain. How could you expect love when every time you looked into those summer eyes, the sadness of captivity stared back at you? That morning, Dominic had asked Lijah for permission, hoping against hope that the love he himself felt for the man lying underneath him, would be enough to engender some sort of forgiveness. "Will you let me?", Dominic had asked. Give me permission to love you. And Lijah had not because he was not free to do so. And why would he want to love the man who had humiliated him, subjugated him and made a woman of his masculinity? Dominic had hoped that somehow.....but here amongst the cold stones he saw the impossibility of that dream. Lijah hated him and how could this not be so? The gods laughed at their misery, had made mockeries of their lives and then had deserted them. if they had ever been present in the first place.
Dominic opened his eyes.......
----------------------------------------
Morgan and his followers were having to lead their horses. They didn't like the forest at the best of times, but this part was particularly thick, with branches that they had to chop at with swords to make their way even a few yards further along the path. If path it could be called. Morgan did not want to be seen or tracked. He had deliberately chosen the most inaccessible part of the forest to ensure that none of the Brigantian warrior band tracked him, especially that son-of-a-bitch Dominic. When he met the chief's son, it would be in the open with the man begging on his knees for his life.
A twig cracked behind him as an unseen creature moved in the undergrowth and Morgan whipped round, his sword ready for an attack.
"Woah", breathed Nhwydd, one of the few Brigantian war band members that had followed Morgan on this journey. "Morgan, you bastard, you nearly had my fucking nose off".
"That's not all the only body part my sword will find if you don't keep quiet", Morgan hissed. His nerves were at breaking point and he expected an ambush around every corner. Quietly as he could, he sheathed his sword and turned his attention back to the path ahead. Dominic had humiliated him and bated him once too often. Morgan knew he was twice the warrior and twice the man that the chief's son was and he knew that he deserved more respect, more gold and more battle honour than he was gifted from the Brigantes. For years his resentment had simmered and he lusted after whatever Dominic had and that he appeared to achieve without effort. And now there was Lijah. It had become a matter of personal honour, a point to prove that he get to fuck this...this...man. Danell was a fool. If Lijah was truly the gift of the gods to the tribe, and his masculinity could be sacrificed for the use of the Brigantes to aid their fertility, their fighting prowess and their strength, then why was this luck given to one, unworthy man? Lijah was the son of a powerful chieftain, a prized asset. Morgan would show himself a worthy man to win the favour of the gods.
And so he took this risk. His heart pounded and he felt the fear of failure lie like a stone weight in the pit of his stomach, but he took the risk anyway. Personal glory, what else was worth fighting for after all? A man that could not count his riches in gold armbands and the amount of women that went willingly to his bed (and the warrior-men dragged screaming there), was a poor pathetic excuse for a man indeed.
So Morgan fled the lands of the Brigantes and headed south and west to the lands of the Deceangli. To Lijah's father.
--------------------------------------------------------------
..............and saw in the skies overhead, a sparrow-hawk. The bird hovered, almost motionless before swooping like an arrow for the kill. Dominic watched the direction of the flight and traced the trajectory to a spot that would be above the centre of the settlement. Perhaps it had seen a rat disturbed from the foodstore or a mouse creeping round the thatches. Feeling numb and like a walking ghost of himself, Dominic started back towards the settlement. The gods had not given him a sign.
He rounded the ditches at the foot of the hill and carried on walking towards the middens that marked the outskirts of the settlement. His arms were wrapped protectively about himself and he paid little attention to the world around himself, so acute was his misery. But out of the corner of his eye he caught a small movement. Slowly, Dominic looked over to the nearest edge of the midden and saw the hawk that he had observed form the hill, tearing eagerly at a rat that had had the misfortune of being captured. At that moment, the sparrow-hawk spotted Dominic and the two gazed at each other in a moment of strange calm. Once again the world seemed to fall silent as the two gazed at each other. Dominic felt an urge to approach the bird, but as he did so the creature once again took flight, strips of flesh still in its beak, this time landing on a roof of a hut in the settlement, Danell's hut.
Dominic drew in a sudden breath as the world seemed to come alive again and a light of understanding filtered through his misery. Birds of prey had their own gods associated with them, Neryn, a powerful and deadly god who valued freedom and demanded appeasement. And each warrior chose a god of their own. Neryn was Lijah's god. It was sign.
It would break Dominic's heart, but he now knew what he had to do. Turning to gaze at the hut he knew Lijah was in, he bowed is head, summoning up the courage, and turned away. He must go to Garren.
Previous chapters can be found here: http://www.geocities.com/voyeur_ism/Becs_index.htm
DM/EW. Rated Nc17. An AU story set in British prehistory. Dominic is the son of a tribal chief with the weight of his village’s problems on his shoulders. When Lijah, the rival chief’s son is taken captive, the gods demand that Dominic uses his new slave to appease them
The winter solstice approached and it was cold amongst the stones, cold and full of shadows. Britain stretched white and silent in the vista from the hill, white and silent as far as the eye could see. The travelling wild men spoke of a great undertaking in the south lands. The people there were building a great temple of stones which would mark the passing of the year and the journey of the souls of the dead from life into the otherworld. In such a place the gods would be powerful. Talk even reached the Brigantes of stone being dragged by hundreds of men from the lands of the Deceangli, even further, to create this massive monument in the south. Power indeed. And perhaps the gods turned all their attention to this great undertaking for certain it was, Dominic thought, that they had deserted the Brigantes.
Dominic closed his eyes and, oblivious to the harsh chill of the frost frozen ground, sat with his back to one of the smaller stones on the western fringe of the circle. "Please", he whispered, casting his eyes upwards to the clouded grey skies above, "a sign. Tell me what to do?" He scanned the horizon for anything he could interpret, anything that may offer him some hope. All was still. No hawks hovered and waited for the kill, no rabbits foraged for grass and the gods did not speak their sighing wisdom to the trees.
The stones here were cold and the circle empty.
Lijah's words echoed around Dominic's head, "gods do not lie. Men do", and he felt his stomach lurch and a foul feeling of sickness come over him. Leaning to one side, he retched, the sobs beginning to wrack him as he did so and the terrible pain of loss making his already numb bones, number still. He sank to the ground and began to pound the frozen earth with his fists.
"You lied to me", he screamed to the air. For what else was there to scream to? Had it all been a lie? Had the devotion he'd shown to the gods been really just a powerful lie by power-hungry men? Where were the gods and why had they not put an end to this mockery of their rule? Why did they not show him a sign?
"Lijah", he screamed to the air around him and the scream seemed to bounce off of the stones and echo around the circle until it arrived back at him as a whisper of accusation. "Lijah".
He had been deserted and made a mockery of and his gods had let it happen. Had he not always acted with honour and with true belief? How had they let this happen? Dominic rolled onto his back and pressed his fists to his eyes so that all he could see was a pulsating redness which turned blacker by the seconds as his blood pounded urgently through his veins.
"I have ruined him", he whispered to the void where once the gods were. Suddenly he sat up and, as loud as he could make it, he screamed, "Danell, you bastard son of a bitch, you're mine". And, scared as he was, Dominic meant it. At that moment he did not care whether the gods existed or if they approved, he only saw a face gazing sadly at him from his mind's eye. A beautiful, familiar face with eyes like a kinder, summer sky and skin paler than winter. The vision sent a pang of misery through Dominic's heart and he closed his eyes again, this time the tears coming silently through clenched lashes and running over scarred cheeks and onto his unshaven chin. He loved Lijah but he could never have him, that was certain. How could you expect love when every time you looked into those summer eyes, the sadness of captivity stared back at you? That morning, Dominic had asked Lijah for permission, hoping against hope that the love he himself felt for the man lying underneath him, would be enough to engender some sort of forgiveness. "Will you let me?", Dominic had asked. Give me permission to love you. And Lijah had not because he was not free to do so. And why would he want to love the man who had humiliated him, subjugated him and made a woman of his masculinity? Dominic had hoped that somehow.....but here amongst the cold stones he saw the impossibility of that dream. Lijah hated him and how could this not be so? The gods laughed at their misery, had made mockeries of their lives and then had deserted them. if they had ever been present in the first place.
Dominic opened his eyes.......
----------------------------------------
Morgan and his followers were having to lead their horses. They didn't like the forest at the best of times, but this part was particularly thick, with branches that they had to chop at with swords to make their way even a few yards further along the path. If path it could be called. Morgan did not want to be seen or tracked. He had deliberately chosen the most inaccessible part of the forest to ensure that none of the Brigantian warrior band tracked him, especially that son-of-a-bitch Dominic. When he met the chief's son, it would be in the open with the man begging on his knees for his life.
A twig cracked behind him as an unseen creature moved in the undergrowth and Morgan whipped round, his sword ready for an attack.
"Woah", breathed Nhwydd, one of the few Brigantian war band members that had followed Morgan on this journey. "Morgan, you bastard, you nearly had my fucking nose off".
"That's not all the only body part my sword will find if you don't keep quiet", Morgan hissed. His nerves were at breaking point and he expected an ambush around every corner. Quietly as he could, he sheathed his sword and turned his attention back to the path ahead. Dominic had humiliated him and bated him once too often. Morgan knew he was twice the warrior and twice the man that the chief's son was and he knew that he deserved more respect, more gold and more battle honour than he was gifted from the Brigantes. For years his resentment had simmered and he lusted after whatever Dominic had and that he appeared to achieve without effort. And now there was Lijah. It had become a matter of personal honour, a point to prove that he get to fuck this...this...man. Danell was a fool. If Lijah was truly the gift of the gods to the tribe, and his masculinity could be sacrificed for the use of the Brigantes to aid their fertility, their fighting prowess and their strength, then why was this luck given to one, unworthy man? Lijah was the son of a powerful chieftain, a prized asset. Morgan would show himself a worthy man to win the favour of the gods.
And so he took this risk. His heart pounded and he felt the fear of failure lie like a stone weight in the pit of his stomach, but he took the risk anyway. Personal glory, what else was worth fighting for after all? A man that could not count his riches in gold armbands and the amount of women that went willingly to his bed (and the warrior-men dragged screaming there), was a poor pathetic excuse for a man indeed.
So Morgan fled the lands of the Brigantes and headed south and west to the lands of the Deceangli. To Lijah's father.
--------------------------------------------------------------
..............and saw in the skies overhead, a sparrow-hawk. The bird hovered, almost motionless before swooping like an arrow for the kill. Dominic watched the direction of the flight and traced the trajectory to a spot that would be above the centre of the settlement. Perhaps it had seen a rat disturbed from the foodstore or a mouse creeping round the thatches. Feeling numb and like a walking ghost of himself, Dominic started back towards the settlement. The gods had not given him a sign.
He rounded the ditches at the foot of the hill and carried on walking towards the middens that marked the outskirts of the settlement. His arms were wrapped protectively about himself and he paid little attention to the world around himself, so acute was his misery. But out of the corner of his eye he caught a small movement. Slowly, Dominic looked over to the nearest edge of the midden and saw the hawk that he had observed form the hill, tearing eagerly at a rat that had had the misfortune of being captured. At that moment, the sparrow-hawk spotted Dominic and the two gazed at each other in a moment of strange calm. Once again the world seemed to fall silent as the two gazed at each other. Dominic felt an urge to approach the bird, but as he did so the creature once again took flight, strips of flesh still in its beak, this time landing on a roof of a hut in the settlement, Danell's hut.
Dominic drew in a sudden breath as the world seemed to come alive again and a light of understanding filtered through his misery. Birds of prey had their own gods associated with them, Neryn, a powerful and deadly god who valued freedom and demanded appeasement. And each warrior chose a god of their own. Neryn was Lijah's god. It was sign.
It would break Dominic's heart, but he now knew what he had to do. Turning to gaze at the hut he knew Lijah was in, he bowed is head, summoning up the courage, and turned away. He must go to Garren.
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Merry Christams xxx
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I have never given up on this - so hoped you would continue.
OK, got that out of my system, now I'm going to read it.
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*is now intent on finish own fic series The Captain's Boy!
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.....and now get on with your fic (;
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...I certainly will! :-) x
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