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The God! How his life had changed since he had met Cadfael. Having accepted being a slave, life had been simple. He did what he was told-fucked whom he was told. He'd been a slave all his life. Now, newly arrived in Llangefni, he was to become a wizard. Cadfael, whom he had thought was a changeling, was already a wizard. But, in many ways, his life wasn't different. He still followed orders-but from teachers, not from masters. As a slave, only his body had been important-not his mind. Now, he had to learn to read so that he could study magic. Slaves went naked except in cold weather, but, in the priest house, he had to wear the habit of a novice, and Braith didn't really like wearing clothes. The course fabrics irritated his skin. He would have preferred to be naked-or, at least, wear nothing but a loin cloth, but, no one went naked in the priest house. His hair had grown out, covering the slave brand on his hair; and, since he wore clothes, no one could see that his cock had been cut off; but he wasn't accepted by the other boys at the priest house. They knew he had been a slave and didn't believe that any slave should become a wizard. They laughed at him: because he couldn't read or write; because he'd been a sex slave; because they knew he had no cock. Sometimes, one of them would ruffle his hair, exposing his slave brand. Then, another would mummer, "Once a slave-always a slave," which was the law. Braith and Cadfael were exceptions only because they both had power. The priest house, which was actually a large, walled, compound, was a place of learning. Some boys were there to become priests, some to learn statecraft, and others were there for any advanced learning which wasn't available in their native towns. A very few were there to learn to be wizards. Besides Cadfael and Braith, there were only three others. Two of those were older than Cadfael and Braith and had been at Llangefni for several years. One, only nine years old, had just arrived. Only the boys studying to be wizards were castrated-and only Cadfael and Braith had no cocks. The nine year-old still had his balls, but he would lose them in a special ceremony, a rite of passage, not from being a boy to a becoming a man, but from being a boy to becoming a wizard. All other boys had cocks and balls. Only wizards and wizards were to be were present when the boy's balls were cut off. Nhad Heilyn, being the head, not only of the priest house, but of the wizards, led the ceremony. He would be the one to cut off he boy's balls. Braith had been terrified when he had been told he was to be castrated. He had known that it meant pain and degradation-that he would have to suffer the pain of having his cock and balls cut off, then the degradation of being fucked by any free man who wanted him. This boy, Trefor, was excited about having his nuts cut off. If he could bear the pain; if he had enough magic to stop the bleeding; he would become a wizard. Stripped of his clothes, Trefor, along with Nhad Heilyn, stood in front of the gathered wizards. Addressing the others-and the God-Nhad Heilyn said, "This boy has asked the God to accept his orbs as sacrifice and to grant him the power of magic in their stead. Is that your request, Trefor of Moelfre?" "Yes," answered the boy. "You realize you will have to stop the bleeding with your magic? If you cannot summon the magic to heal yourself, then you will die. Are you willing to give your orbs-and to risk death-for magic?" "Yes. I give my orbs and risk my life for magic." With that declaration, Nhad Heilyn split the boy's nut sack with a sharp knife. Trefor grimaced with the pain of the cut. His balls dropped free of his scrotum, hanging in the open for all to see. Speaking an incantation, Nhad Heilyn, took first one-then the other-in his hand, pulled, visibly stretching its cords, then sliced it off with the knife, placing it in a wooden bowl when it was free of the boy. The nine year-old Trefor had screamed each time one of his balls had been cut off. He had been willing to give them for magic-wanting magic more than what his balls might some day provide; but, he hadn't known it would hurt so much. Blood was streaming from his mutilated crotch. If he couldn't stop it with his will-with his magic-he would die; and the pain was keeping him from concentrating. He couldn't recall the spell he needed. He was feeling faint from loss of blood. His life was in his hands; none of the others would help him. The room was becoming dark as his vision faded. Perhaps dying wouldn't be so bad. He no longer felt the pain in his groin. The room had become cold, but, despite the cold, he felt at peace. Sinking to the floor, he muttered something that he had remembered, not knowing why he did, or what it meant. The flow of blood stopped. His wound closed. Almost at the point of dying, he had spoken the necessary spell. He would live to become a wizard. Having watched the ceremony, Braith thought about himself. All his life, he'd been told the God didn't favor slaves. Now, he was told he had power-that he was favored by the God-that he could become a wizard, not as powerful as Cadfael, but a wizard, nevertheless. He thought about those other boys Mostyn had purchased. He hadn't liked them since they had been free born, but, now, he pitied them. By now, they must be on a ship to Araby. If they survived the journey, they would become sexual playthings for little brown men-until, growing older, they were no longer desirable; then most-unless favored by their masters-could expect a life of hard labor and an early death. He, like everyone, had accepted slavery. Now, he wondered if it was right for one man to own another. He was proof that slaves also had souls. There was a purpose to losing his balls. It allowed him to have magic. Those boys had given theirs for other men's pleasure. Walking back to his room, Braith turned a corner, entering a dark corridor. As he passed a doorway, hands reached out from it, grabbing him from behind. Lost in thought, he hadn't noticed that boys were lurking in the recessed doorways on either side of the darkened corridor. Slipping a sack over his head, they dragged him into one of the rooms, shutting the door behind them; then tied a strip of cloth around the bag at his mouth, gagging him. He hadn't seen his abductors. Throwing him to the floor, they stripped him of his clothes; then, held him down, as each took turns raping him. Four boys pumped their seed into Braith's ass, leaving him tied up on the floor. None of them had said a word during the assault. Cadfael was in their room when he arrived. Looking up at Braith's face, he knew something had happened, and, using his magic, he learned what it was-and who had done it. "It was Muerig and his cohorts. I'll fix them." "I never saw their faces, but I thought it must have been them; if I let you do it for me, though, I'm no better than what they call me-a slave boy. I want to wait to have my revenge-until I can do it myself. Will you help me become a wizard?" "Yes, I'll help you become a wizard, but it may be months-or years-before you'll be powerful enough. I could do something now." "No, I want to do it. Promise me you won't do anything to them." "If that's what you want, I won't do anything, but you're not a slave boy, whether you're the one who punishes them or not." Pushing up the hair on the side of his head, showing his slave brand, Braith replied, "This says that I'm a slave." Placing his hand over the brand, Cadfael closed his eyes. After a few moments, he opened them and removed his hand. The brand was no longer there. "You no longer have a slave brand. Your hair will grow back where it was." "Why don't you do the same to yours?" "Mine was put there by blood magic. Neither Nhad Heilyn or I have been able to counter that spell-just as we have been unable to restore my memory." Cadfael thought the four who had raped Braith deserved the same fate as the four back in Dolbadarn. If they lost their cocks, they wouldn't be able to rape anyone, but he had promised Braith that he wouldn't do anything. Still, he used his magic to give them a bad case of dysentery. Only Nhad Heilyn would have been able to determine that their illness had resulted from magic. Braith was still Cadfael's only friend. Although Nhad Heilyn favored Cadfael because of his potential as a wizard, he was also a stern taskmaster, compelling Cadfael to study and to practice his magic. Because he had been a slave-his bald head and slave brand were constant reminders of it-none of the priests or students accepted him. The other wizards were jealous of his magical ability and the preference that Nhad Heilyn showed him. Braith had never known his parents and, until he had met Cadfael, had never had a friend. Cadfael didn't remember his parents and didn't remember having a friend before Braith. They had been ostracized by Mostyn's boys, then had faced death together. Although they were same age, Cadfael thought of Braith as a younger brother. Since he had more power than Braith and, since he had almost caused his death when he had killed Ithel, he felt responsible for him. By using his magic to look out of Braith's eyes-seeing whatever he saw-he kept watch on him whenever he could spare the time. Nhad Heilyn kept him so busy, however, that he could only catch a glimpse at times during the day. During the first month after his rape, Braith didn't see much of Muerig or the other three. The dysentery that Cadfael had given them was so severe that they were unable to attend classes or to work. All the boys, including Braith, but excluding Cadfael, spent several hours a day working about the priest house. Cadfael spent all his time studying magic, which was another reason he was disliked by the others. Of the four who had assaulted Braith, Muerig, the oldest, was sixteen. The other three were: Traherne, fifteen; Gerallt, fifteen; and Ofydd, fourteen. All-with their balls and their man hair-were larger than Braith, who had just turned twelve. If Braith hadn't lost his balls, he would have his man hair, but, now, of course, he never would-and without his man hair-he hadn't the spurt of growth it brings. Physically, he was still a little boy. Muerig and Ofydd were the first to recover from their illness. Traherne and Gerallt were still too sick to attend classes. Coming into a mathematics class, they sat on each side of Braith, who was in his usual seat at the back of the class. "Hello, slave boy," whispered Muerig, reaching over to ruffle Braith's hair to expose his slave brand. Not seeing it, he exclaimed, "Where's your brand." "What brand?" answered Braith. "I have no brand." Reaching down, Muerig grabbed Braith's crotch. You may not have a brand, but neither do you have a cock. You're still a slave boy." "And, if you had no cock, would you be a slave? At least, if you had no cock, you wouldn't be able to rape anyone." Braith hadn't intended to let on that he knew they had been the ones who had raped him, but had become angry when Muerig had grabbed his crotch, making the comment he had. If his magic had been sufficient, he would have taken their cocks then. "Rape? What do you mean?" blustered Muerig. "I know it was the two of you and Traherne and Gerallt. Some day you'll pay for it-maybe with your cocks." Angry, remembering the rape, Braith was thinking about the spell Cadfael had put on Ithel and his cronies. He had known slaves who had their balls, but no cock. Young, their need for sexual release had been great, but, without a cock, they had no way to satisfy it. It was much worse, he thought, to have balls, but no cock, than it was to have a cock and no balls-or to have neither. He had no desire for sex-had never had any desire for it-never thought about it. When he had been a sex slave, and had been fucked, he had thought about other things. They had used his ass, but his mind had been elsewhere. But, thinking those days behind him, when the four had raped him, they had raped his mind as well as his body. He wanted revenge. "I don't know what you're talking about," said Muerig, but he was worried. Braith's friend, Cadfael, had Nhad Heilyn's favor, and he had heard stories about what Cadfael had done to Mostyn's boys. He thought that Briath was threatening to have Cadfael do the same to him and the others. He didn't know that Braith planned to wait until he could do it himself-that it would be months-if not years-before he would have enough magic. Upon leaving the class, he whispered to Ofydd, "We have to get rid of him before he tells Nhad Heilyn or his friend. They waited until their friends were well enough to help them; then, finding Braith working alone in a small storeroom, attacked him. "What do you want?" asked Braith as the four of them entered the room. "We want you, slave boy," replied Muerig. "What? You want to rape me again like last time?" "We might. You've had so many cocks up your ass that it's a wonder you can hold in your shit, but it was good-at least for me, since I was first. I don't know how it was for the rest after I filled your ass." Braith knew that Cadfael sometimes watched him. He could feel him in his mind when he did, but, calling out to him, felt nothing. Busy elsewhere, he wasn't watching. He tried a simple spell to make the boys think of something else, but there were too many of them. It might have worked on one, but not on four. At Muerig's direction, Gerallt and Ofydd stripped Braith and pinned him to the floor, each hooking an elbow around one of Briath's legs, raising it, exposing his hole. When Braith struggled, Traherne pinned his shoulders. Held down by the three of them, he could do nothing, but watch Muerig strip, as he readied himself to fuck Braith. Muerig's cock-rock hard-jutted out from his body. A drop of sticky moisture hung from his cock's single eye. He knelt on the floor, positioning the head of his cock at the entrance to Braith's hole, then plunged it into his ass. Raised up, supported by his arms, Muerig's grinning face loomed over Braith's. It's too bad we have to kill you. You have a nice ass. Since you have no cock or balls, it's just like fucking a girl." Not that he had ever fucked a girl. Besides Braith, the only one he had fucked had been Ofydd. The youngest and smallest-the last to get his man hair-he had been fucked, and was still being fucked, by the other three. Ofydd knew he would be last, but Braith was the only person he'd ever fucked. Although he sometimes had to suck the other boys cocks, and they fucked him, he only got to satisfy himself with his hand. Just thinking about sticking his cock into Braith, made him hard and almost ready to spurt. After a moment, Muerig shuddered as his hot spunk filled Braith's ass; then, he collapsed onto Braith's chest, rested for a moment, then said into Braith's ear. "Did you like that, slave boy?" Staring at the ceiling, Braith didn't answer. They planned to kill him. After taking their pleasure, they planned to kill him. Why had he been so proud? He should have allowed Cadfael to take action against them. Now, even though Cadfael would know it had been them-whatever he did would be too late. Stupid, proud, Braith would be dead. He didn't want to die. No longer a slave, he had experienced enough of his power to believe that he would, someday, become a wizard. Having-for the first time-a reason to live, he was about to die. Spent, Muerig, withdrew, exchanging places with Traherne. When he finished, it was Gerallt's turn. By the time he was through, Offyd was so aroused that he spurted at the entrance to Brath's hole, then was unable to stuff his softening cock up Braith's ass, even though it was well lubricated by this time Muerig laughed at him. "Little Offyd doesn't get any. He spurted his all over the floor." "Wait," Offyd said, pumping his cock, trying to get it hard once again. "I'll be ready in a minute." "There's no time. You had your chance." Placing Braith's right arm over his thigh, he pressed down, snapping it at the elbow. Despite Braith's resolve not to show fear, he screamed. The pain was too great. The other two older boys joined in, standing to kick Braith in the ribs, caving them into his lungs. Offyd, pumping his cock, watched from when he still knelt near Braith's ass. He pumped his seed onto Braith's crotch as Muerig delivered a kick to Braith's head, fracturing his neck. Certain that he was dead-or dying-they left him on the floor of the storeroom. Blood ran from his nose and mouth. The broken arm and the broken ribs had hurt more than had losing his cock and balls-until he was kicked in his head by Muerig; then, he felt nothing. He was still conscious, but he couldn't feel his body. Neither, could he breathe. His lungs were filling with blood. He felt his consciousness slipping away-knew that he was dying-but he fought back, trying to heal himself, working first on his lungs. If he couldn't stop the bleeding there, he wouldn't be able to breathe, and, without air, he would die. Although he hadn't yet learned to heal, his desperation-or the God-enhanced his ability. He was able to slow-if not stop-the bleeding in his lungs, drawing a few precious breaths of air. Broken shards of his ribs kept threatening to wreck his repairs and, weak, he was growing weaker. At the most, he was holding on to his life. He hadn't the strength or ability to reset his broken bones-or the break in his spinal cord. It was taking all his effort just to restrain the bleeding. He felt faint, knowing that, if he lost consciousness, he would die. Checking on Braith-looking through his eyes-Cadfael didn't understand what he was seeing. Before, Braith's eyes had always been moving, whether he was reading or looking around a room. Now, all Cadfael could see was a floor-the bottoms of some vases and barrels. Delving deeper into Braith's mind, he understood what had happened-and how close Braith was to death. The room was a long ways from where he was-and he couldn't heal Braith from a distance. For injuries so severe, he would have to lay on his hands. A spark of consciousness-a faint flicker of life-was still present in Braith's mind-along with a desire to live. Cadfael hoped it was enough. "Hold on," he whispered to him across the distance, "I'm coming." Hearing him, Braith tried. Braith heard the door open. He couldn't turn his head to see who it was. It could have been one of the boys coming back to make sure of him, but it wasn't. He knew it was Cadfael. He could feel his presence. Cadfael bent over Braith's broken body. He was alive-but just barely. Placing his hand at the back of Braith's neck, he healed it first. The slightest movement could have severed more of the nerves, stopping his heart. Braith once again felt his body-could move his arms and legs; but, he also felt the pain: the broken arm; the ribs puncturing his lungs. The sudden onslaught of pain was too much for him. He fainted. Cadfael continued to heal Braith, pressing on his chest, pushing the ribs back into place, healing the tissues surrounding them, closing the punctures in his lungs, then repaired his elbow. Braith slept through it. Healed, he was breathing normally, but had been exhausted by both the attack and his efforts to hold onto his life. Cadfael picked him up and carried him to their room; then went looking for the four boys, finding them in their dormitory. "You're lucky that Braith is still alive. If you'd killed him, you'd all be dead now." Jumping up, Muerig lunged at Cadfael. With a gesture, Cadfael broke both his legs, and Muerig collapsed to the floor, howling in pain. "Pick him up and bring him," he said, "we're going to see Nhad Heilyn. They had attempted murder. It had gone beyond revenge for a rape. "I didn't do anything," pleaded Offyd. "I didn't touch him." "You were there. That was enough." "You can't make us come," said Traherne. "You can't make us carry him." "No? Maybe not, but, if you prefer, I can leave you to wait here with Muerig-all with broken legs. It's your choice." Writhing on the floor, Muerig was still screaming. His legs had been completely broken through slightly above the ankles. Wanting none of what had happened Muerig, the other three picked him up from the floor. His feet dangling at odd angles to his legs, he screamed even louder. Cadfael left the room, bidding them to follow him. He didn't look back. There was no need to watch them. His magic would have alerted him to any danger. Arriving at Nhad Heilyn's room, he knocked. After Cadfael had explained what had happened, Nhad Heilyn asked, "What do you want done with them?" Having used his magic to check the veracity of the story Cadfael had told him, there was no need to question the boys, even though they protested that they hadn't done anything. "Braith is sleeping," Cadfael replied. "I don't expect him to awake for a day or two. Lock them up until he's awake. Let him decide." The four were locked in a cell. Muerig's legs were set, but neither Nhad Heilyn or Cadfael used his magic to heal him. Two days later, in an assembly of all members of the priest house, Braith judged them, "Let them be taken to the slave market to be sold as slaves. Have a cutter slice off their cocks." The four were stripped, then taken to the slave market. Muerig was the first. His head was shaved; he was strapped to the gelding table. Once his head was secured, he was branded. Standing close enough to the table to smell Muerig's burning flesh, Braith said, "Once a slave-always a slave," then watched as the cutter sliced off Muerig's cock, sealing the wound with a hot iron. He had fucked for the last time, and, a labor slave with man hair and balls, no one would want to fuck him. Muerig had masturbated, had fucked Offyd, or had him suck his cock every day. Sixteen, he was at the height of his need for sex. Keeping his balls, he would still have the need. Without his cock, he would have no way to satisfy it. The other boys followed Muerig to the gelding table, Offyd being the last. Offyd had watched as each of the others had his head shaved. He had heard their screams-had smelled their burning flesh when they were branded. Had watched as their cocks were cut off with a knife-as a hot iron had quenched the flow of blood. Each of those cocks had been up his ass-had pumped their cream into his mouth. Now, they lay in the dirt alongside the gelding table-and his was next. It wasn't fair. He had only done what Muerig had ordered. He was only fourteen. What could he do against the others? After all, they had fucked him as well. Looking to Braith, he pleaded, "Please, don't let them cut off my cock. I didn't hurt you. I didn't even fuck you." Braith was tempted to have pity on the boy, but Offyd had participated in the first rape. His seed had mingled in his ass with the others. He hadn't hit Braith, but, aroused by the violence of the others, he had spurted onto Braith's crotch while they were beating him. Braith closed his ears to Offyd's pleas-shut his mind to any thoughts of pity. Offyd's head was shaved. He was strapped to the gelding table. Like the others, he screamed when branded. As to the others, Braith said, "Once a slave, always a slave." Offyd's cock joined the others in the dirt. The four of them were taken away to heal-to await a buyer, if they lived. Unlike Cadfael and Braith, they would be slaves until they died. |