Warning this story deals with non-consensual intercourse and violence.  It is M/M

I DO NOT OWN ELFQUEST OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTORS SO DON”T SUE ME.

Redlance, Cutter, Nightfall, Leetah and other EQ related characters are COPYRIGHT of ELFQUEST / WaRP.

Story written November 2002 by NTJenn3

 

 

The Healing of Redlance

 

It was hours before dawn and only hours after the intrusion of humans again.  Only this time the intrusion had occurred in the desert where no one had ever expected the humans the show up.  Pathetic and starved though they had been, their presence had forced back into memory the age-old dispute between the humans and the Wolfriders.  

 

Nightfall had been too restless to linger around the night-quiet village, so she had gone hunting.  She had tried to encourage Redlance to come with her but her lifemate had not been interested.  He had insisted that she go anyway, and promised her that he would be fine.  The hunt had merely been a means to vent her frustrations.  Though Nightfall thought she understood Cutter, her chief and dear friend, sometimes she just could not comprehend his reasoning.  Why had he let the humans go?   He thought in ways that no chief before him ever did.  He had ways of looking at things that bent and skewed all that she knew and understood.  Still it was not her place to question her chief or to challenge his logic.  She’d leave that task to Strongbow; after all, the taciturn archer was much better at butting heads than she was.

 

With unconscious ease she nimbly worked her way down the jagged cliff face that rose above the entrance to the Wolfriders’ dens.  After the events of just this evening she expected a lot of activity around the den, but it seemed eerily deserted, which had her to wondering if everyone was still at the village.  She shrugged, if her tribe was at the village she would find out soon enough and she still had her kill to tend to anyway.  She glanced at the small morsel hanging from her knife belt, her kill was a prickle back, and its sweet meat was a favorite of Redlance’s.

 

She easily leapt down the few feet to the mouth of the den and crossed from pre-dawn darkness into the shadowy interior of the main cave, with unerring steps she tread her way toward the deep recess she shared with Redlance.   However, in the stillness there came a sound that was not of her making.  A low torturous moan followed by a pitiful retching upheaval.  She forgot about her kill, she forgot about everything but finding the one who was in such misery.   Her eyes having adjusted to the dimness within the cave, Nightfall had no trouble making out the huddled form of her lifemate as he swayed mindlessly to and fro while tears spilled unnoticed down his pallid cheeks and bile drooled from his mouth and tangled in his shining red locks.

 

He wasn’t even aware of her as she reached his side.  By the glassy look in his leaf-green eyes she knew that he was lost somewhere inside himself and she felt a stab of fear remembering another time, seven turns ago when he had almost left her behind.  A time, she recalled, precipitated by humans.

 

“Lovemate? Are you ill?  Should I get Leetah?”  Nightfall asked, gently curling her strong hands about his shaking shoulders.

 

His response was not exactly what she had been expecting.

 

Redlance howled, lurching up from under her hands and shrieking.  He batted at her even as he shoved himself deeper into the recess.  There were niches and cracks in the back of the recess, and some of them were large enough to fit a huddled elfin body.  Shocked by his action, Nightfall froze for a moment.  She had never saw him like this. He was wild with terror.  What had happened to him?

 

“Beloved…?”  She wondered aloud, reaching toward him again.

 

He screamed, “Stay away…don’t touch me!”  He wildly batted at the air around him while trying to back into a crevice.

 

“Redlance…what is wrong?  Tell me what’s wrong!”  She cried as again she tried to reach him.

 

He huddled down, covering his head with his trembling arm and he moaned, “Nononononono— Please don’t…please don’t touch me….”

 

What had brought this on?  Could it be…the return of the humans?  “Redlance…beloved, they’re gone.  They can’t hurt you anymore.”  She soothed, thinking that maybe she could get thru to him this time.

 

:::

 

“Can’t hurt you…. Hurt you…. Hurt….” Redlance spiraled down, into a memory that he had not ever wanted to recall.  Into a moment in time rife with terror and pain and shame, which he had never shared, not even with his lifemate.  He suspected that Leetah knew something of what he had suffered.  Oh yes, the Healer, with her clever hands that could delve deep into ones inner being and find all of ones pains and torments.  She, who had healed him, had been shocked and disgusted by her first encounter with the mindless cruelty of the then mythical humans.   No longer a myth for her, Redlance thought wildly.  No longer a forgotten memory for him.

 

Back in his mind he flew, back into a memory that was seven years old, and as raw now as freshly butchered meat.  He tried to push it away, shying away from something he had successfully suppressed for so long.  But the return of the humans had ripped that old memory wide open.

 

Back he was dragged, back to the beginning of it all, back before the surreal journey across the desert and the wild ride across its fevered sands.  Back, beyond that, which was thankfully less then clear since he had been so badly injured then.  Dying he had been and Leetah had carried him away from that nearly welcome end.  Past that his memory flowed, past the burning of the forest and his release from the pillar-of-sacrifice.  Past the pillar-of-sacrifice, but not far, not far past at all.

 

:::

 

The past….

 

It was a wonderful hunt, despite the law of the Wolfriders that stated no one goes out alone, he had noticed the buck and it was a beautiful animal.  He didn’t even know if he meant to kill it, all he desired at that moment was to track it and thrill in the pursuit.   The buck presented a challenge, for it seemed aware of him, and it lead was leading him on a merry chase through the forest.  When he left the safer woods around the Holt he was unaware.  The hunt was foremost in his mind.  The law, even his safety was secondary to his desire to track that worthy beast.  Lost in the now of the hunt, he didn’t even know when he became the hunted.  One moment that incredible animal was in his sites, and then his sight was overwhelmed with the shadows of his most feared enemies. 

 

Humans, his mind screamed defensively.  He surged back, lunging away, and slashing roundly with the steel-sharp point of his trusted spear.  The hunt, the forest around him, even his tribe was forgotten in that instance of panic.  Redlance had no doubts of his ability, with a spear he was matchless, but the long reach of a spear could also be a hindrance when it came to fighting in a tight space.   There were seven of the lumbering giants, with their heavy bodies and coarse features, and they were all around him.  Hunters too, their weapons were crude and ugly, but a stone point wielded accurately could inflict a wound just as bright-metal could.  They had been seeking other game, but they were quick enough to seize any new opportunity that presented itself.  As he had done by stupidly blundering into their path.

 

With burning eyes and rabid leers the humans closed on him, forcing him into a tighter defensive circle.  His spear bit out, drawing blood here and there, but inflicting no truly serious wound now.  He tried to protect himself on all fronts but they were seven and he was only one and if some came at his front then others would rush at his back.  He yelled in pain when a cudgel’s hit connected low in his back and staggered him forward.  A stone spear tip scudded across his ribs, raising a long angry weal that would bruise horribly, should he be fortunate enough to live so long as to bruise.   Part of him was detached enough to recognize that he had to escape and part of him knew that to stay was to die, but the panicked part of him also knew that getting away from his attackers might only happen with his immediate and painful death.

 

With desperation he tried to force his way through the knot of attackers.  They gave but did not break, and then their hands were upon him.  He screamed in rage mingled with terror and wrestled clear of the first set of monstrous hands.  His spear bit again, cutting into an attacker with a satisfying resistance.  With blood spilling from his pierced thigh that human stumbled back with a surprised yelp of pain.  Redlance saw his chance at freedom in the opening that injured human provided in the circle of attackers and he lunged for it.

 

Freedom!  It lasted only a second; but it was so close that he tasted it.  However freedom can be a fleeting thing, and it was for him when the knot closed in around him with crushing force.  Squirming under the combined weight of them he had a moment to think about his stupidity.  Forgetting the laws to go his way had in retrospect been a very bad idea.  As his world started to zone out his last conscious thought was to send to his tribe for help, finally.   However, as darkness consumed him, he faded with out hearing any reply.

 

Pain and lightness woke him.  Disoriented at first he didn’t remember much of what had occurred, even though he hurt inexplicably.  When his sight settled enough to make sense of what he was seeing his memory of the attack came back.  He gasped and pulled at the cording that bound his arms above his head to the support frame of the post he was secured to.  Above him the aged skulls of some of his people leered down at him.  He moaned fretfully, still tugging anxiously at his restraints as he looked all around himself trying to figure out where he was.  He was inside a hut of some kind.  Its domed structure was supported in the middle by the post he found himself bound to.  On the hide walls of the hut there were crude images of humans and elves and their wolf-friends and according to the scenes the humans were the successful ones here.  Any other time Redlance would have laughed at such imagery, for he knew how his tribe dwelt with any human that wandered to deep into Holt territory.  However this was not one of those times.  The age stained skulls of his people hanging above him assured him of just how successful these humans could be in their own territory.

 

He did not want to see his skull join these ones or be added to the pillar-of-sacrifice, which he expected was somewhere outside, and not to far away.  He tried twisting his wrists free of their bindings, reminding himself that he had wriggled out of strangleweed tighter than this, however these bindings ignored his efforts and held him fast even as they scraped his skin raw.

 

He was given no time to fret however, as the hut’s door, a hide-flap, was pushed aside and a hand-full of humans came in.  He twisted around to look at them even as he moved back around the post trying to get out of sight.  The post offered little shelter.

 

Of the four humans only one struck true fear into his pounding heart.  This one was the worst offender of all the humans, for he had made it his personal task to seek out and destroy Wolfriders.  He was the reason the Law of “not going off alone” even existed.  The human’s shaman, with his body length white hair and his bone accessories was a demon that inhabited the bad dreams of all Wolfriders.  Redlance felt sick and so scared that he wanted to slink off and hide somewhere.

 

The white-haired shaman advanced to Redlance’s side.  Redlance had no where to go now, so he chose to stand his ground and face this most hated enemy as if he had his entire tribe at his back.

 

There was a long moment of silence.  The shaman soundlessly communicated with his silent henchmen and they moved to surround Redlance.  Those pit like burning eyes stared down from the shaman’s great height and a sly smirk snarled his age-seamed face.  The shaman nodded then, and Redlance found himself at the others tender mercies for a few moments as they pulled and wrenched his leathers off him.  In a few moments he stood shivering and naked, staring up at the shaman who he knew held his fate in his hands.  The shaman’s puckered mouth twisted with pleasure. 

 

“Cold little one?“ He asked pleasantly.

 

Redlance glared which only made the shaman’s sour mouth stretch into a broad grin.  “I have some presents for you red-demon, perhaps these will warm you up?”  Again he nodded to his assistants who moved toward Redlance once more.

 

He tried to wrench away when he saw what his ‘presents’ were and he tugged frantically at his restraints even as his scalp crawled with horror.  He yelled in rage, offended by their desecration of something he cared about, and horrified in what they wanted to do.  It was the ears and tail of an animal, the scent was unknown to him but the animal those parts had once proudly been displayed on was not.  A wolf had been defiled in a way that was nearly inconceivable to him, he knew as they moved toward him with those abhorrent things that there was no way for him to stop them.  He could growl and snarl all he wanted but it was no defense against their terrible cruelty or pleasure as the three humans adorned him according to their shaman’s directions. 

 

Tears were pooling in his eyes when they finally moved back from him, tears at the shame of wearing these trophies, for trophies they were, of an animal his tribe loved as brothers.  On his head, tucked into his headband above his own peaked ears were the ears and attached by a cord tied around his hips was the tail of the animal.  He stifled a sob, refusing to let them hear how this made him feel. 

 

His abusers stood back and admired the picture he made, with his luminous green eyes, shining red hair and fair moon kissed complexion.  No human could hope to look like him, even festooned as he was, what they saw was a small being with child-like features and a body that was at once mature while also deliciously sensual.  He would never understand that they hated him because they saw all their innermost desires wrapped up in his beauty and eternal youth.  He had what they would never have and if they couldn’t have it then they were driven to destroy it.

 

The shaman’s expression grew thoughtful and finally he said, “Now you look like the proper demon-beast you really are.”

 

“Pretty.”  One of them murmured.

 

The shaman rounded on that unfortunate, snarling, “Yes, very pretty!  And a demon, or do you forget the evil his kind do?”  He gestured grandly, “Look at the way his kind twists the land and plants to suit their vile needs.  Also how they have twisted Gotara’s beasts to run with them, to hunt with them, to kill with them!”

 

The shaman spun back, growling at Redlance, though still not addressing him.  ”Oh yes, you look at them and see how they shine before the sun; this one with the spring leaves in his eyes and that fire in his hair is but one of the many forms they come in.  However, don’t forget that they were made to tempt us and distract us.  They came down here to make us forget Gotara and the Truth of His ways.  But we were not fooled despite the comeliness of them, for we knew them for what they were and we will destroy them as Gotara wills.  Look at this one; see how Gotara put him in our hands to punish for his evil ways?  See how Gotara works for us even now?”

 

The shaman’s three cohorts nodded and tried to hide their shame from him.    He scowled at them, seeing exactly what they were hiding.  He looked thoughtfully at the captive and his frown deepened even more.  “You challenge us with your demon looks.  Like a child you are.  Small.  Big eyed.  Smooth skinned.  But you also have ears like a beast…and a body like no child’s.”  He dropped to his haunches so that he could be at a level with the captive.  For long moments he remained, just silently studying Redlance.  He finally frowned broodingly and reached out a hand, ignoring his captive’s shying response and his defensive growls.  He slid his hand along Redlance’s bare side, skipped over the cord binding the wolf’s tail to his rump and moved his hand down along the smooth hip.  He raised his gaze after a moment to see those green eyes watching him with growing anxiety and bewilderment. 

 

The shaman suddenly shot to his feet and ordered his assistants to leave him.   After Redlance was alone with the shaman he forced his gaze up to meet those burning eyes as they peered down at him.  The shaman’s expression was dark and forbidding.  He shared no more information, and expressed nothing more regarding how challenging Redlance, bound to a post, was to them.  Redlance saw the shaman’s expression change again, and was prepared for that reaching hand.  He did nothing at all; he simply stood there — tense with apprehension — as the shaman dragged his fingers through his hair.  He suppressed a whimper of dread as that gnarled hand stroked over his face, and cupped his chin.

 

Redlance stood tense yet trembling, staring up at the shaman as he looked down at him.  He could not move his head as it was trapped by the shaman’s big gnarled hand, so he stood utterly still and waited for the shaman to finish what ever he was up to.  The soft touches, the deep breathing, the intense stare all seemed to Redlance similar to courting signals.  Which of course he could not be reading right for this was undoubtedly another style of torture.

 

Finally, to Redlance’s relief, the shaman released him and moved back.  He watched with growing anxiety as the human continued to just stare at him for disturbingly long moments.  Then, just as he thought that he couldn’t bare anymore and was about ready to yell at the human to kill him, and kill him now, the shaman turned and strode away. 

 

Alone once more, Redlance could only wonder of what was to come next.  He recalled the shaman’s hands on him and puzzled over that for a few moments but couldn’t make any sense of it.  Realizing that dwelling on the madness of humans was futile Redlance turned his immediate attention once again to escaping this nightmare.  He studied his bindings more closely and tried the find out why they were holding him so well.  He tested their hold again, and winced at his raw wrists ached in protest.  He wonderingly noticed fresh blood staining the bindings even as a glistening bead trickled down his arm.  He stared at those binding and pulled again, hoping the moisture of his blood might relax them, but he was sorely disappointed and the bindings were holding fast. 

 

He sighed then and leaned into the post, letting it support him and ease some of the strain on his arms.  His senses eased out and felt the age of the post, and even sensed some of the other unfortunates who had shared this spot before him.  How many, he wondered, had died right here?  For a moment he was despondent, sure that he would join those ill fated ancestors, though for him it would be nothing so simple as dying on this post.  The humans would end his life on their pillar-of-sacrifice, which had not seen to many Wolfrider deaths yet, though some Wolfrider skulls did adorn its peak.

 

No!  Redlance silently rebelled.  He would not die this way!  Again he tugged at his restraints, and again they resisted him.  Then he turned his attention to the post and its supports, wondering if he could damage it somehow and free himself that.   The supports were all over his head and his hands were bound together so that it would be difficult to grasp anything above him.  Still, with the dexterity of his kind he managed with what grasp he had and the strength of his legs to raise himself up to examine the support structure and after a disappointing moment he let himself drop back down again.  The supports were braced and pinned together and looked very secure.  He leaned his head against the post again and sighed fretfully.  He was not ready to give up though, as he stared, almost transfixed at the texture of the post and he once again felt its great age.  As he was he could not budge it, but he was he not also the grandson of treeshapers?  Everyone said that the talent flowed in him.  He had tried and failed to call up that talent before, but this time it was his life in danger, what could be more incentive than that? 

 

In spite of his apprehension he focused within and beckoned his dormant talent to respond.  Redlance set all his will against the wood and labored for it to heed his desperate command, he strained until sweat poured from his face, however the post remained, as ever, solid and intact.  His nerve shattered then with that defeat and tears gleamed on his cheeks as his face came to rest against the wood that had defeated him.

 

Those same tears still tracked his cheeks when the opening of the hide-flap signaled another intrusion.  Using his arms to wipe away the evidence of his tears, Redlance turned to face this new comer, and felt his heart thump with dread when he saw it was the shaman again, alone this time.  The tall, lanky shaman approached with silent steps and stopped a few feet away from him.  His arms were tucked behind his back and his expression was menacing while he glared at Redlance.

 

After a few moments Redlance wished that he had hidden behind the post again, even if it offered no real protection at least he could have pretended that he was concealed.  However, standing against the post with his arms bound above his head left him feeling terribly exposed.   He watched the shaman and he wondered what he could be thinking staring at him with such hot and angry eyes.  He swallowed nervously, and warily shifted his feet as he waited.  The shaman noticed that movement and his expression grew even more ominous. 

 

In some other situation Redlance might have been tempted to find out what was the matter.  However this was not that situation.  He shied back, desperate for some means to fade from sight, to be forgotten.  The look in the Shaman’s eyes was like that of a predator which had set its site on its prey, and Redlance knew that he was that prey.  He felt his throat tightening with fear and his entire body tensing for a blow, even though the shaman had not yet moved from his original position.

 

Then the impasse was over, the shaman lunged forward and grabbed at Redlance, who cried out as those talon like hands pressed around his torso and dug into his bruised ribs.  Redlance twisted and kicked as he was hefted off his feet and lift to the shaman’s eye level, he froze though when he looked into those heated pits, seeing something in them that frightened him more then the thought of dying did.  He cringed back when the shaman bent toward him and he was ashamed to hear himself whimper in terror as the human’s craggy face hovered above his own. 

 

“Gotara demands you suffer red-demon.  Soon your blood will stain our pillar-of-sacrifice and its flavor will be sweet indeed to Him.”  The shaman said.  “But…. You plague me and I must cleanse your desire from me.  Temp me you do, you’re a feast to a famished hunter, but to eat your flesh is to be poisoned.” 

 

“So small.  Like a child.  So soft, so fresh, so beautiful.” The shaman murmured, nuzzling Redlance’s smooth cheek and forcing a moan of sheer horror from him.   “I hate you…. I hate everything about you, but your power of attraction ensnares me.  What wicked and sinful creatures you demons are.  I am Gotara’s Spirit Man; He protects me and leads me to this path.  Cleanse your hold over me I must do!”

 

“NO!”  Redlance implored, struggling wildly as those large hands upon his body moved down the grip his thighs now.  He felt terrible pain in his wrists as the shaman pressed against his body, however the pain in his wrists was forgotten when shaman’s vile mouth moved wetly over his skin, even over his own lips.  Fear gave way to absolute panic as Redlance struggled to protect himself and knew that the other’s frenzied strength would break him.  He felt a wail of horror building to an explosive release even as his legs were stretched open and pushed up.  That scream finally rushed out of him and carried with it all his pain and terror as the shaman’s engorged penis stabbed inside his unwilling body.  He heaved against the bindings and against his assaulter, and cried at the brutal agony of each thrust.  The pain was immediate and so real that it felt as if someone was trying to shove a log up inside him and succeeding.   

 

“Aah!”  He screamed hoarsely, “Please! It hurts!” 

 

The human, upon hearing him, actually hesitated briefly and this seemed even more excruciating to Redlance, for he could feel the length of that thick rod as it lie at rest with in the tight confines of his aching body.  Soon though he was sobbing once more in renewed pain when the shaman began to move again, reinforcing that horrible intruding sensation with the powerful rhythm of his thrusts.  “Please!  Please Stop!”  But the shaman was not listening to his ragged pleas now; he was to busy fulfilling his oath and torturing his small victim at the same time.

 

Hanging by his wrists and impaled on his attacker’s cock Redlance gradually lost focus with reality and zoned out.  He was still aware that his crying went on unalleviated, and that the pain of the assault was incredible even though he was also aware that his resistance to each thrust was ebbing as his body tried to adjust rather than be hurt any more.  However he was not aware of the passage of time, for what seemed like hours to him was in reality probably only moments.  Those long moments stretched everything out and made it seem as if each thrust was as slow as honey in winter.  It made him wonder what this would have been like if he was enjoying himself and if it was a good friend using him this way.  It was that thought in conjunction with the fact that it was a human using of him that filled Redlance with such shame.  Shame that was misplaced to be true, but in his vulnerable state, Redlance had no defenses even from himself.

 

That shame of awareness settled in and surrounded Redlance, even as he returned to painful consciousness and the changing rhythm of the shaman’s thrusts.  If his body could have been stirred to pleasure at that point he might have simply willed himself to die rather than face the humiliation of it.  He rode out the rest of the assault as best he could in humiliated silence.  Closing his eyes Redlance stifled a moan of utter despair when the shaman finally reached his climax and spewed his liquid heat within his abused innards.  Then it was over, the shaman pulled away, releasing Redlance as he did.  He casually straightened his long hair and his loin-cloth, as if a simple adjustment could make everything just go away.  The shaman’s craggy face was more relaxed now, and his expression was — for lack of a better description — satisfied. 

 

Redlance stood on very shaky feet and pressed his face against his arms to hide the evidence of his tears, even though he was well aware that the shaman had already observed them.  He tried not to whimper when the human shaman tucked his big hand into his hair and tipped his face up again.  He kept his eyes closed and refused to acknowledge the shaman.  If he made no further response to him then maybe the shaman would leave him be until it came time to execute him.  Redlance shivered though when the shaman’s hand slid down to cup his face once more.

 

“At dusk you will die,” the shaman promised, while rubbing his thumb across Redlance’s trembling lips.  “You can no longer enchant me, Gotara has given me His protection.”

 

‘I wish someone would protect me!’  Redlance thought desperately while shuddering under the shaman’s ever more wandering hands.  ‘This can’t be happening anymore.  Let it be a dream.  Please — Let it be a bad dream!’

 

Those hands though were very real, and Redlance had no defenses left to hold his emotions in check.  He sobbed helplessly when one hand prowled over his chest, and deliberately lingered to tease the nubs of his nipples.  He shook his head anxiously and moaned, “Noooo….” when that same hand traveled down over his abdomen, stopped momentarily to poke at his navel and then moved to pet that bush of hair crowning the apex of his thighs.  He bit his lip to smother his distressed outcry when he felt a light touch against his penis.  He tried to move back, while sobbing softly in such terrible desperation, but his restraints gave him no where to go and made him an easy target with no defenses left.  He felt his stomach knot involuntarily as the persistent tugging along the length of his penis began to awaken it.  Finally he twisted hard enough to wrench himself free before his shame was complete and he truly responded to his own assault.  The shaman however seemed unperturbed, nor did he bother to reclaim what Redlance was trying to deny him, instead he was content to the stroke his victims smooth back, palm his rounded rump and slip his hand deep into his crease between his cheeks, which had Redlance jumping even more than a few moments before.  Redlance moaned in shamed confusion when he felt that intruding hand rub against his already swollen anus.  He shifted, trying to move off his captor’s unwelcome hand, only to find himself being thoroughly restrained by the shaman’s free hand, which now splayed across his belly and into his bush and pushed him back into that other more objectionable hand.  He sobbed bitterly; hating how his gut wrenched each time that hand rubbed over that oh so sensitive part of him.   Then he jumped and whimpered at the sudden intrusion of a finger being jammed inside.  He arched his back and stifled another cry as a second finger joined the first and he nearly collapsed when both those fingers began to move inside him, hurting him but not feeling nearly so awful as the shaman’s thrusting penis had earlier.  He sagged in his restraints, only moving as the shaman moved him, and he cried softly in bitterest defeat as his body began to respond to this newest torture. He prayed for it to end, and even the idea of dying now was preferable to the utter shame of giving in to a human this way.  But it was not dusk and the shaman was hardly finished with him yet.

 

Redlance wanted desperately to zone out as he had before, but this time his awareness remained intact and he felt everything not from a distance but right here and now.  When two fingers became three, it hurt a bit more, but his body adjusted and accommodated those three fingers as they totally reamed him.  He tried to concentrate on the pain cutting into his wrists that were once again supporting all his weight, but again and again he was reminded of the responses of the rest of his body and the pain in his wrists could not separate him from the myriad sensations.  He did wail when a fourth finger invaded him, and thrust him wide open, for that was very painful indeed. However even here his body tried to adjust with the pain easing after each penetrating thrust powered by the human’s strength and passion.   It became harder to concentrate, as pain mixed with pleasure and confusion gave way to compliance.  He knew his shame was absolute then and that there was nothing for him to do except ride this out to the end.

 

Still, the shaman’s actions were baffling to Redlance.  He could not understand why he continued with this torment if he believed that Gotara was protecting him for Redlance’s supposed enchantments.  Part of him, the part that was not centered on the sensations overwhelming his body, wondered how the shaman could justify his actions.  But then, he knew, there were no other witnesses to this, no one to question his cries.  If anyone later asked the shaman what had occurred with in this hut, he could tell his people that he had spent his time punishing Redlance, as Gotara willed.  ‘How convenient,’ Redlance thought bitterly, barely stifling a moan when the shaman now moved his other hand away from his abdomen and cupped it around his genitals once again.  He grit his teeth in silent suffering trying the deny the sensations that crawled up his groin and settled in the pit of his belly as the human now squeezed his penis bulb in conjunction with each thrust of his other hand.  Then he heaved, and cried out hoarsely when the shaman tucked his thumb into the unit reaming his anus and he screamed when the utter thickness of that hand tried to pass inside the tightness of his body.

 

“Please!  Stop — I cannot bear it!”  He rasped as tears streamed down his cheeks and pain racked his entire body. 

 

“Gotara wills it Demon.” The shaman insisted, determined to shove his hand deep inside his victim’s suffering body.

 

“You will it!” Redlance cried, “It is not your Gotara who wants to hurt me!  It is you!  Please!  You will rip me apart!”

 

“So be it.” The shaman predicted with disgusting delight as the thickest part of his compressed hand breeched Redlance’s defenses.  Redlance screamed at the terrible pain, and tried to push away from it and the shaman.  The shaman held him firmly though with one arm wrapped around Redlance’s slim waist even as the other sank into the elf.  He delighted at the hot silky sensation of being immersed inside Redlance’s body and leaned against his back to whisper gleefully in his ear.  “I could tear you apart from the inside.  I could shove my fist right thru your sweet little body and watch in it comes out of your mouth.  Shall we try that?”

 

This was worse than before, Redlance knew that he would die now, whether he was sacrificed or not, what was being done to him would tear him up inside, and damage things that with out a healer could not be repaired.  The pain was intense and more than he could stand, he knew that it caused him to black out, and he would come to just so that he could black out again.  The pain and the sensations made him sick,  and his crying and screaming hurt his throat, but those were nothing compared to the damage being done to his body, the little deaths that he was suffering now were just a prelude of a much longer and permanent one to come.

 

Lost to the pain, Redlance began to face the reality that he might never see his tribe mates again.  Their dear faces spiraled in his mind, he held the image of Nightfall’s young face and whispered her name, caressing it with his mind.  He moved onto to Cutter’s face, so young and earnest, still little more than a child but already his chief for these seven turns.  And Leetah, so lovely the Chief’s mate and the tribes’ healer…. His mind shuddered to a halt.  Leetah did not belong here.  “Leetah?  How…?”

 

:::

 

The present….

 

“You’re all here?” He wondered as the reality of now and Leetah’s warmth restored him to the present.  Three faces watched him anxiously, his lifemate, older now but still so strong and self assured.  His chief, still young but wiser now for he had grown into his command.  And Leetah, the healer who had saved him in the desert, and who knew how damaged he had been, mentally and physically.  He looked from one concerned face to another and he knew that each had shared with him the torment he had suffered at the shaman’s hands long before he had even been tied to the pillar-of-sacrifice that fateful night.  That old shame resurfaced then, and he fearfully asked, “How many know…?”

 

Cutter was the one to answer, with his blue eyes radiant in the dimness of the cave and his pampas-fair hair glowing like a halo, “Nightfall lock-sent to Leetah, Leetah thought I needed to be here.  Other than us, no one else.”

 

Redlance ducked his head, allowing his hair to fall forward and hide the stain of shame darkening his pallid cheeks.  “Then…you know everything?”

 

Nightfall, her golden eyes pooling with tears, hugged against him and whispered huskily, “Why did you keep that from me?”

 

Cutter — who was kneeling beside him — reached out a hand and stroked Redlance’s bright hair, and added softly, “From us?”

 

Redlance could think of nothing to say, and no way to explain what he had gone through or that he was not over the nightmare of it even now.  He turned away and huddled in Nightfall’s comforting embrace, and closed out the other silent presence that wanted answers from him that he could not provide.  Answers like how had he managed to suppress it for so long?  That had been the easiest thing of all to do though, for so many things had happened so quickly that he hadn’t had any time to dwell on it and as one event filled day merged into the next the memory of what had occurred at the start of it all became more and more distant.  From the rescue, to the fire.  From the troll caverns to the desert.  From the decision to be left behind and to the healing, Redlance just hadn’t had a moment to think about it.  And after ward, with the recovery and the meeting of a new tribe of elves to occupy him, that memory was not given a chance to resurface.  Until tonight, with the appearance of Humans at a place he, no, everyone believed to be safe.

 

Cutter sat back on his heels and looked at his tribe mates, next to his lifemate Leetah, and his soul’s mate Skywise, these two were dearest to him.  Nightfall, with her golden eyes and autumn gold hair, and her warrior’s soul and woman’s heart perfectly balanced, was his age mate and true friend.  There had been a time back in the holt that tribe mates had even speculated about the future they might have together, it had not happened.  He had Leetah and Nightfall had Redlance, but that powerful love and fondness remained as solid as ever.  He looked at Redlance then, he was the tribes’ treeshaper, and his was a gentle soul that delighted in the exploration of his gifts in shaping living plants into wonderful and fanciful designs, not only for his own pleasure but for everyone else’s as well.  Redlance was compassion and understanding, there was no scorn in him, and his counsel was always calm and reasonable, even his love of the hunt was as real as the fact that sometimes he let the prey escape simply because he didn’t want to kill anything, and he would shrug off the scorn of Strongbow who occasionally called him careless or irresponsible.  Cutter knew that it was not the lack of responsibility which allowed Redlance to let the prey go, rather that it was compassion for all things and a gentleness which said:  We are well, we are fed and content, we have food in the larder, I will not kill today.

 

Cutter had been there, for most of Redlance’s terrible recollection.  He had shared the memory with the aid of his mate, and the three of them had been helpless witnesses to the cruelest of acts that had left such horrible emotional scars.  The physical hurts were long since healed, but the emotional damage of what had been done to Redlance had left invisible scars that were finally making sense to him.   Things that had seemed incidental to him at the time now were clear.  Redlance had never been one to turn away from sharing pleasures, whether it was with females or males — nor were he and Nightfall exclusive; however, to Cutter’s knowledge, Redlance had not shared pleasures with any male in the last seven years.  He would always laugh off such advances, exclaim he had something else to do, or turn down an offer with a vague smile and negative shake of his shining head.  He had not offended anyone, for that was not his way, but now Cutter could see that Redlance had been running away from every such encounter as fast as he could.

 

Cutter turned his thoughtful gaze upon his mate, Leetah was the sun shining in the desert darkness, and she with her brown skin, flaming hair and vivid green eyes was a soothing balm to his over taxed mind.  Yesterday everything had been so perfect, life was good and there was nothing to be afraid of around every bend.  His cubs — his twin children! — were growing strong and healthy, and his tribe was mixing so well with the Sun-folk that some of them, Woodlock, Rainsong and their ever growing family now lived in the village.  Yesterday he knew where he belonged and his life was full with blessing.  Yesterday was gone.  The humans had reinforced that if nothing else. 

 

He had been challenged by Strongbow, and even though he had won that challenge the question of where they would find a place to call their own remained strongly on his mind.  Savah had been little help and now he was contemplating things that frightened even him.  To leave, to seek out an answer to the riddle of where did they belong, was as scary to him as the decision to trust the trolls had been.  Still, he remembered, though they had actually been betrayed by the trolls it had all worked out.  They had found the Sun Folk, he had found Leetah and Redlance had been saved.  Now this, with Redlance adding yet another concern to his already weighted mind, and he did not know how to deal with Redlance’s problem or even if he was what Redlance actually needed.

 

Right now, Cutter recognized that what Redlance needed most was to rest and maybe the healing would come with it.  Maybe this resurgence of memory was actually the answer that Redlance needed.  Perhaps the memory could now be successfully purged and Redlance would actually heal completely.  He rose gracefully and reached out a hand to Leetah who stood up when he did.  Her hand tucked easily into his and was comfortable there.  He waited a moment and Nightfall shifted her position enough to look up at them.  “We are going Nightfall, but should you need us…either of us….” He left the rest unsaid, there was no need.  Nightfall understood.

 

She nodded, pressing her arms about her lifemate’s back, “I will take care of him….” She promised with golden eyed determination. 

 

Together the chief and his healer life mate left the Wolfrider caverns, heading in silence back to the silent village.  The sounds of nighttime played on every breeze,  with the crickets chirring, the resting birds cooing, and the wind as ever sighing (when it wasn’t howling) around the Bridge of Destiny which stood over the village like a protective guardian.   He gently squeezed Leetah’s delicate and yet powerful hand and idly inquired, “You knew?”

 

“Yes.”  She agreed with out preamble.

 

“You didn’t tell me.”  He stated.

 

She tilt her lovely head and pushed a stray strand of hair out of her luminous eyes and said simply.  “It wasn’t my story to tell.”

 

He glanced at her, then down at the well tread path beneath his bare feet.  “No.”  He agreed after a moment.  Of course she was correct, to have told him what she knew about Redlance would have been — wrong.  After another moment he looked at her again and asked, “Will he…recover?”

 

She stopped walking and gazed toward the Bridge of Destiny.  “We all have are tests to overcome, beloved.  Redlance will confront his when he is ready.”

 

Cutter, pressed against her and tucked his face into her softly curling hair, and drank in the essence that was her.  She leaned into him, and pulled his arms around her, holding onto him as she luxuriated in his physical closeness.   The gentle breezes played around them, mingling their hair into ribbons of moonlit white and red streamers.  They swayed together in perfect harmony and both wondered for how much longer such moments of peace could last with this evening’s events clouding everything.   Both also knew that Cutter would find no answers if he left questions such as Redlance’s needs behind.

 

 

Redlance felt filthy and in desperate need of a bath.  Nightfall was her usual supportive self and walked with him in the desert darkness as he sought out the nearby hot spring.  Though he said nothing he was hoping that the hot spring wasn’t occupied.  Even if it was late to a sun villager, evening had been a Wolfrider’s day, and though that was changing with the passage of time, it still was conceivable that the spring was being used.  After the events earlier this evening, a soothing soak in the hot water would be a welcome relief to anyone, but as they rounded a rocky outcropping in the path and the spring came into view he saw to his relief that the area was unoccupied.  Here he stopped and stared at its steaming surface.  The richly pungent odour of the place he had long since grown used to, just as he had adjusted to the desert heat and learned to enjoy some sun-time activities.  He felt Nightfall’s hands resting lightly on his arm, and he pressed his cheek against her shoulder, drinking in the comforting balm that was her.  This being who was so much more of a warrior than he could ever be and yet her bright metal core was sheathed in lushly female flesh and generous curves and tempered by a heart of understanding and kindness.  He felt blessed every day that she had chose him to make her life with him, he who was so much older than her and who admitted secretly to himself, was not as strong as her.  He recognized his strengths, and his value to the Wolfriders and knew that they did not judge him for his gentler heart and wandering thoughts.

 

As they moved toward the spring, Nightfall began to help him with his leathers.  Redlance let her assist him for a few quiet moments, then he gently grasped her hand and murmured painfully, “Nightfall…Beloved, I – I wish to be alone for a while.  Would you…mind?”

 

Redlance felt her silence and barely dared to cast an anxious look her way.  She stood back, with the moonlight silvering her glorious hair and outlining the lush curves of her body.  She was offering him a healing, but he knew in his heart that hers was not the kind of healing he needed.  He had no problem sharing pleasures and comfort with her or any others that shared her sex.  He ducked his head as he felt his cheeks heating again, no…to be whole again she could not offer him the healing he truly needed.  She canted her head slightly and gave him a long lingering look, then she nodded gravely and stepped toward him to nuzzle up against his throat.  He shivered when her strong teeth gently nipped his fine skin, and he wrapped his arms around her, holding her and soaking in the love she sent to him.  Then just as gently Nightfall eased out of his grasp and stepped back from him.  A few more steps had her back at the outcrop which sheltered this place from the passersby and provided that seeming privacy some craved when they came here.  She paused there, a lovely silhouette in the moonlight, and sent him a flood of love and understanding.  As she turned away to retrace her footsteps she seemed almost absently to add, **I will call him.**

 

Redlance remained were he was, watching after her, long after she was no longer in view.  He only finally turned back to the steaming water when a falling star provided him with a distraction and reminded him of why he had come here.  He eased off the rest of his leathers and slipped off the golden headband which contained his flaming mane.  He lowered himself into the water, hissing appreciatively at it soothing heat, and started to absently drag his fingers thru his fore-braids to unbind them as the soaking heat began to relax his tense body.

 

He closed his eyes and lay his half submerged body against a slab of warm stone, luxuriating in the sensation and musing that these hot springs alone had been worth the trip across the desert.  Of course some of his other tribe mates wouldn’t agree with his analogy but at that moment Redlance really didn’t care.  Even with his eyes closed and his body soothingly relaxed, his other senses picked up the approach of another.  The scent of desert-thorn-bush and animal musk caressed his nose, his ears tilted recognizing the cat-like tread which he knew only one elf to have.  He opened his eyes and gazed up at the sparkling stars above as he waited for Cutter to find him.

 

As an echo to Nightfall only moments before, Cutter paused at the threshold of the spring.  The moon loved his silhouette no less than it had Nightfall’s, glowing around his pale hair and highlighting his youthful, muscular and shapely body.  He too was grace and sensuality all wrapped around uncanny innocence and down-to-earth ingenuity.  Redlance spared him a nervous glance, knowing that he had in his way asked for this and also knowing that Cutter could help him to finally heal if he allowed it.  He ducked his head  as Cutter moved toward him.  He heard the tell-tale whispers of leathers being shucked and closed his eyes.  Then close by him the water sloshed as Cutter slid into the pool.

 

Cutter hissed in appreciation as he submerged himself up to his neck and reclined back.  “I never thought I would get used to this….” He admitted after a moments silence.

 

Redlance glanced at him, and smiled shyly as he expanded, “or the desert, or the villagers, or the tranquility.”

 

Cutter chuckled richly, “Yeah, poor Eye-one and Strongbow, always craving for a little more excitement.”  Then his face tensed and he looked down into the swirling water.  “Hmm, I guess they have their taste of excitement now, I wonder if they appreciate it?”

 

Redlance let his head rest again on his stone pillow and watched another falling star streak down beyond the ragged edge of the mountains.

 

Cutter sighed, following Redlance’s gaze upward and murmured, “Skywise would love this, I wonder if he’s somewhere in these hills and watching this too?”

 

Redlance turned his head and queried, “where — um — where is everyone?”

 

Strong young shoulders raised and dropped, causing a fascinating ripple effect to expand from Cutter’s position. “Here and there, I expect.  Dealing with things as best as they can…just like us.”  For all that he seemed unconcerned, Redlance picked up the note of worry in his voice.

 

It was Redlance’s turn to sigh now, “Yeah.”

 

Again there was a long stretch of companionable silence.  Redlance relaxed and thought drowsily how nice it was just soaking here.  He listened to the sighing of the wind and the chirring of the crickets and the peaceful night sounds that were such a part of life whether the sounds were heard in a vibrant forest or a searing desert.  The night no matter where was a time of peace and tranquility.  He did not tense when Cutter settled at his side so that now their shoulders were touching.  He turned his head and gazed beneath his lashes at his chief’s profile and he reached out to catch a lock of Cutter’s pale hair between his fingers.  Cutter barely turned his head, but Redlance felt a hand move onto his thigh. 

 

He shivered, and moved his own hand over Cutter’s, trapping it there.  Other than to turn to face him, Cutter made no other move.  Redlance bit his lip and lowered his lashes to hide the rising fear in his eyes.  This was it, he knew, this was when he had to choose.  Finally he looked up into Cutter’s luminous and patient eyes.  He smiled tensely and whispered, “you must think me a coward….”

 

Cutter freed his hand, but only to rest it against Redlance’s chest, above his thudding heart.  “No,” he assured softly, “I think that you are very brave…and very dear.”

 

Redlance felt tears welling up in his eyes again and turned away, trying to hide the shame of them from his chief.  Cutter did not release him though, his other hand cupped the side of his face and gently encouraged him back.  “Redlance, you did nothing wrong.”

 

Unable to move away from Cutter’s gentle hands with out being obviously rude, Redlance hung his head instead and whispered, “But I…I — shamed myself.”

 

“How?”  Cutter asked, now both of his gentle but persistent hands were framing Redlance’s tense face.  “How did you shame yourself.  With what you suffered…oh Redlance — I could only hope to be so brave.”

 

Redlance raised his gaze, “But I…sometimes I liked…sometimes I…it didn’t always hurt — what he did…”

 

Cutter pushed his hands into Redlance’s damp hair and tugged his head gently forward, “So.”

 

Redlance pressed his hand against Cutter’s silky chest and cried softly in shame, “Sometimes I liked it!  I came so close and — and if not for the hurt —!”

 

His chief pulled him into his embrace.  Redlance sat frozen and tense on Cutter’s lap, but he did not resist when Cutter pressed him against his body, nor did he protest when Cutter’s mouth touched his hair.  Instead he gradually relaxed and eased into his friend’s inviting embrace.  Then slowly he slid his arms around Cutter’s damp body and finally he was able to press his face into the cradle of Cutter’s strong neck.  Cutter rubbed his back and murmured against his hair, “Redlance you did nothing wrong.  A terrible thing was done to you.  That sometimes you seemed to like it only speaks for your capacity for pleasuring, not for your capacity for shame.  You did nothing wrong.  Nothing.”

 

Redlance sat astraddle his chief with his arms wrapped about him and the firmness of his body pressed right against him.  He could feel everything and he knew that Cutter was only waiting for him to decide.  He snuggled closer, squeezed harder and pushed himself until the throbbing evidence of Cutter’s readiness lay pressed between his open thighs and against his own frightened sex.  He sighed raggedly and raised his head, letting Cutter see the fear and anguish that shone in his tearing eyes.  He bit his lip again as he sent achingly, “I’m afraid.”

 

The difference in years was reversed then, for Redlance though Cutter’s senior by several centuries, seemed the anxious innocent here, shivering with wonder and mingled fear while Cutter was the experienced one who needed to make all his moves with great confidence so as not to frighten off the already frightened.

 

It started with a touch of lips on his shoulder, and then on his throat.  It continued with Cutter’s hands moving in tandem over his shoulders and down along his back.  He flinched whimpering when Cutter’s hands cupped his bottom cheeks and lifted him slightly forward so that he briefly slid down against Cutter’s erection.  Cutter soothed him though by nuzzling his jaw and throat and moving his gentle hands in circular patterns along his back and sides. 

 

Redlance tried to reciprocate, but Cutter murmured, “No…let me…pleasure you only Redlance.  This is all for you…,” then with a smile in his warm voice he playfully added, “this time.”

 

Redlance almost smiled, and he did touch Cutter despite his wishes.  He felt and heard Cutter’s soft chuckle in response and for that, Redlance did smile.  He did not tense so fearfully when Cutter’s hands strolled down to massage his bottom, nor did he flinch quite so strongly when one questing hand moved ever so gently into the crease between his cheeks and stroked over his anus.  He did grow very quiet and still though, looking into Cutter’s luminous eyes as they gazed back at him filled with compassion and tenderness…for him.  He smiled tremulously and ducked his head to rest it against Cutter’s broad young shoulder.  He brought his hands around between them and as Cutter stroked his bottom and what lay secreted there, he moved his own hands to tease Cutter’s nipples and caress his washboard belly, growing resolutely more brave with each passing second.  Once Cutter moaned softly when Redlance’s hand only lightly grazed against his erection, then the younger growled playfully at the elder and once more Redlance was lifted up to be lowered ever so gently against that hardness.

 

He cried softly and leaned anxiously forward when he felt Cutter’s penis ease against his anus.  He clung to Cutter now, and shook at the memories of sensation that hint of penetration caused.  Cutter did not push him, in truth his hands shifted to support his heaving back now.  For long, agonized moments Redlance remained thus, perched atop Cutter, but unable to go any further.  He sobbed into Cutter’s soft damp hair and silently railed at himself for his cowardliness.  He felt Cutter’s hands soothing his back and stroking his hair and he was aware of how Cutter was waiting for him again.  Giving him the chance to choose.  He quieted gradually though the closeness he had forced with Cutter he did not relinquish.  He eased back slightly and raised his head again to look into Cutter’s eyes.  “I don’t think I’m…ready.”

 

Cutter nodded understandingly, “Okay.”

 

Still they did not part and Redlance did not want to leave either.  He was safe here, maybe not comfortable in this straining position, but definitely safe.  He felt the steady beat of Cutter’s heart against his own chest and he felt the great deal of patience and tenderness the Cutter bore for him.  He knew that Cutter loved him, of course it was differently from how he loved his lifemate Leetah, and his soul’s brother Skywise, but it was love that was more than that of a chief for his tribesman.  He bowed his head, thinking as he let his fingers lightly roam over Cutter’s strong, young body.  He touched him all over, and wondered how he could turn away such a gift.  Cutter was offering himself as a balm for Redlance’s pain.  He raised his head once again and whispered, “Let me go.”

 

There was a faint flicker of remorse in Cutter’s luminous eyes, a hint of failure in his expression, but he did as Redlance bid, and released him from his embrace.  Redlance remained perched above him, with only the buoyancy of the warm water keeping him from settling down onto the shaft that still prodded him ever so gently.  Cutter shifted, maybe to slide out from beneath him to exit from the pool.  Redlance caught his hand and smiled at his wondering expression.  “Stay.”

 

Cutter tilted his head slightly, then murmured, “Are you…sure?”

 

Redlance nodded and smiled shyly.  He shifted his position so that he was in control, and by his own decision he eased himself down.  Cutter gasped and heaved slightly, which only aided in the merging.  Redlance pressed down, controlling the descent as best he could, and enjoyed the little bursts of movement from Cutter which served to deepen the push.  He started to laugh with joy as Cutter’s shaft filled him completely and he cried happily, “I think I am ready after all.”

 

In control, Redlance rode Cutter’s shaft.  With each thrust Redlance purged his fears, his haunted memories, and his insecurities.  There were no bindings on him, no one was forcing him or hurting him, this was his doing.  He was filled with such burgeoning joy that he  knew he had to share it or he would burst.  He drew Cutter into his pleasure, knowing that Cutter was more than just his emotional healer, he was his friend and yes, even more in the greater scheme of things.  He begged for Cutter to touch him and he stroked him in return, they played in the hot water, exploring and learning what the other enjoyed.  For Redlance, his memories melted in that hot spring and he arose from it healed and ready to face the next day.  What ever that next day might hold, Redlance knew that the ghosts of his past would no longer shadow his future.  He passed that relief onto Cutter, and his chief-friend was content and relieved to know that his tribe-mate his found his way once more. 

 

The end.