The Universe of Discretion: The Warlock's Son
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Michael BN
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6
Prologue
A Long Time Ago…
Valerian sat, twirling the metal-nibbed feather pen between his thumb and forefinger. Tiny specks of sparkling purple ink splattered onto his parchment, but he didn't notice.
His eyes were scrunched closed and his pointed ears twitched as his mind explored The Stream. He wrote his best spells when Callen was gone; apparently, the young man distracted him too much.
Not wanting to interrupt the elf’s endeavors, Callen carefully made his way to the stove. Tekron tea, his favorite! He poured himself a cup and sat down in the soft armchair, admiring his love from a distance.
Pickitt jumped onto Callen’s lap out of nowhere, scaring the qarah out of him. Valerian's cat required more attention than her master, so the young man treated her to a tummy rub.
When the Master Enchanter opened his eyes, they still burned blue. He had once described The Stream as a searing sun that could easily immolate the untrained mind.
When his eyes cooled down to their natural trillium grey color, he saw his love and smiled.
Even though he looked like he was in his early twenties, The Stream had kept the elf alive for more than nine centuries.
"Migáre!" Valerian uttered, as he held out his hand towards the young man. The armchair scratched across the wooden floor until it hit the desk.
The spell then lifted Callen carefully out of his seat, making him float head-first towards the elf for a kiss.
"Welcome home, my love," Valerian whispered softly. "I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow."
"Recruit training finished early. Her Majesty gave us three days' leave before we march on the Nilbani Capital!"
"The Queen is making far too many enemies lately. Every time she does, I fear for your life!" Valerian was now pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace.
Callen knew the elf hated war with all his passion, but he had to be more careful. He could easily be accused of treason for all the qarah he said about the Empress.
"I am a soldier in the Imperial Army. If there was no war, I wouldn't have a job," Callen said with a grimace.
"Being a soldier is not a job, it is a death wish. I have accumulated plenty of resources over the centuries. We can retire in the countryside."
"Retire? I am twenty-six years old! I love you, but I am not ready to sit and watch the plants grow yet."
Callen was starting to lose his patience. This topic came up way too often.
"We could set up a school! We could teach gifted individuals the way of The Stream, as well as fighting the primitive way!"
"Are you calling me primitive?" Callen sulked. He knew he was being petty but couldn't help himself.
"That's not what I meant!" Valerian's demeanor changed instantly.
He rubbed Callen’s shoulders gently, making him flinch.
"Did they cut your beautiful body again?" the elf asked, scrunching his eyebrows in controlled anger.
He unbuttoned Callen’s heavy leather tunic and tossed it onto the armchair. The wound had started to bleed again, a crimson stain blooming on the soldier’s white undershirt.
With utmost care, Valerian lifted the shirt up and over his lover’s head. He took a sharp breath when he saw the exposed injury.
"How can they justify this needless bloodletting during a training camp!"
The elf’s fiery passion had returned. Despite the fact that his wrath was always aimed at Callen’s chosen profession, his genuine concern for the young man proved disarming.
Callen leaned in and kissed Valerian deeply, just as he was about to continue.
"Don't distract me when I am trying to be outraged!" the elf proclaimed, pulling away from the kiss.
The elf took a fresh washcloth out of the cabinet in the corner and dipped it into a bowl of cool spring water. He dabbed carefully until all the crusted blood was gone.
The cut was deep and raw, hurting Callen like infernium. Valerian closed his eyes and gently kissed over the full length of the injury.
The touch of his lips was accompanied by a light burning sensation. When he was done, both Callen’s pain and the open wound were gone. The skin had been completely restored, leaving no scar.
The young man knew how much this drained the elf’s energy but was grateful for the result. He was the only soldier in his unit that did not carry a single souvenir of war.
"I am tempted to peel you out of the rest of your clothing," the elf smiled mischievously.
Callen knew that look.
Whenever Valerian spent too much time in his Higher Mind, he ultimately descended into his more primal nature. Considering how little time they had together, Callen had no intention of stopping him.
"So, why don't you?" he said, walking to the stairs backward.
The second-floor loft of the elf’s ancient stone abode was warm and cozy. Valerian hated the Autumn cold and had his bed clothed with countless layers of blankets and soft fluffy skins.
"I can access The Stream, but in truth, you are the Enchanter!" he said in a husky voice, that belied his true age.
He stalked Callen like prey up the stairs, until there was nowhere to escape to.
Valerian’s heavy robe dropped to the carpet-covered floor with a thud. He had a striking slender physique that was completely smooth. The only hair on him was the long bushel growing out of his head.
Most elves boasted hair in various shades of green, but centuries of magic use had caused Valerian’s to take on the same metallic color as his eyes.
The warmth from the healing had worn off and Callen was starting to feel cold. He unburdened himself of the rest of his clothing and dove under the bed coverings.
He struggled to draw breath, as he waited for Valerian to join him, but the elf didn’t come.
Callen peeked out from the top of the blankets and to his great disappointment saw that his lover was gone. Had the elf changed his mind?
"I'll be right there!" Valerian called from down below.
He returned with a scroll in his hand.
"I have been looking for this particular spell for months,” he said, before uttering something under his breath.
"What was all that about?" Callen asked, curious as to why Valerian had interrupted his seduction.
"You'll see," the elf replied vaguely.
His hand was already moving freely over Callen’s chest, before moving over the muscles of his abdomen and down to...
Callen gasped in an overwhelm of sensation. He could feel both his own reaction to the elf’s touch as well as Valerian’s. It was the most bizarre experience.
The elf disappeared completely under the thick blankets and for a moment it was quiet. A tingle shot through Callen’s body as he felt a tongue on his sensitive nipple.
Simultaneously, it felt as if he were doing the same to his lover... Or himself. It was very confusing. Was the elf feeling the same thing?
Licks and kisses staircased down Callen’s body, until a wet sensation enveloped the entire length of his manhood.
It didn't take long for the dual input to prove too overwhelming for his fragile human mind and he released in an ecstasy that he had never felt before.
"And?" Valerian asked, coming up for breath.
Callen was still riding the wave of pleasure and couldn't have answered if his life depended on it.
"That's what I thought!" Valerian’s grin would have been contagious, but Callen had no control over his motor skills.
The elf lay down next to him and looked up through the glass ceiling at the stars above.
"Is this spell permanent?" Callen asked, not sure what he wanted the answer to be.
"I can undo it, if you feel overwhelmed. However, once you get used to it, you won't want it any other way."
"Let's experiment some more," Callen said shyly.
Valerian gently maneuvered himself on top of his lover and kissed his cheeks, neck, and collarbone.
Meanwhile, his arms pulled Callen’s legs up and out. Fyr juice lubricant made for an easy entry and the young man’s mind was blown by the incomprehensible plentitude of stimuli.
As Valerian moved slowly in and out, Callen experienced the exact same tightness around his own manhood.
It always took Valerian forever to climax. Was it a racial thing or had he become desensitized after almost a millennium of carnal knowledge?
When the elf finally did release inside of Callen, he felt like he had completely lost his sanity after spilling his own seed all over his belly… twice more!
Valerian brushed the hair out of the young man’s sweaty face and planted a kiss first on his lips.
"You are so beautiful," he whispered.
That was when Callen’s cherished memory came to an abrupt end, as his blood oozed out over the battlefield.
As he slowly drifted off into oblivion, he contemplated his only regret... He had never asked his beloved Valerian to undo the spell.
Had his lover felt all of his pain?
***
Valerian spilled his tea as a sharp pain in his side almost brought him to his knees.
Callen!
He suddenly panicked as the pain got worse. The spell the elf had cast definitely intensified their lovemaking, but its true purpose was to feel exactly what he was feeling right now.
He closed his eyes and mentally reached out to The Stream. It allowed him access with hesitance, sensing that his mind was not calm.
Moving closer and closer towards the power's true source, Valerian projected a question towards the All-Mind—the very essence of Caladria.
He returned from the dangerous exercise with a location and a warning.
Lifting his hands up and then outward, he muttered, “Eeleel, ili'eeleel!”
Reality bent around him and his stomach lurched as he pushed himself through the barrier of space and time.
Suddenly, Valerian was in the midst of a battlefield. A pandemonium of screams and shouts almost made him lose his bearings.
Now that he was so much closer to Callen, the pain became much worse.
A soldier in a red helmet and a vicious snarl hurled towards the elf. He abhorred using the power of The Stream for violence, but he was not going to be able to avoid it.
“Quelnarh ruteem!” he shouted and watched the soldier freeze in place.
It wouldn't hold him long.
Soldiers from both sides had now noticed his presence. The last time a mage had participated in battle was during the war of Ferest Rock.
That was a while ago even for Valerian.
He jumped over corpses and dodged soldiers' swords as best as he could, but they were delaying him too much. This was going to cost him, but he had no other choice.
“Dharty hilsr!”
A protective bubble now surrounded the elf and blood-frenzied footmen bounced away from the invisible force as if someone was throwing them.
Then, he found Callen.
A brute of a soldier stood over the young man and watched him slowly bleed out.
The moment Valerian arrived, the soldier turned to him and froze in place. He knew that he was utterly lorped yet pushed his sword deeper into Callen.
The elf grabbed his chest in agony as he watched Callen's lifeblood seep out from under him.
In pure rage, Valerian’s mind tapped into The Stream. The All-Mind tried to push him out but he resisted with all his might.
Crystal shards shot up through the ground and tore the soldier apart, his limbs falling into a pool of his own blood and excrement.
Callen was dead but the elf knew it wasn't too late. Only The Stream had the power to do what was needed.
Valerian kneeled next to his love, fighting back tears. The elf closed his eyes and allowed his mind to ask the single favor from the All-Mind.
He held his hand on his love's chest and watched the blood be pulled back into his body, the wound stitch and ultimately...
Callen gasped as his upper body lifted off the ground. His eyes shone in a brilliant blue for a moment before returning to their normal color.
He looked at Valerian and his expression changed to one of adoration.
“What did you do?” he asked.
“I... I...,” the elf could hardly form a sentence.
Valerian could no longer access The Stream, he had passed his gift to Callen in order to save his lover’s life. Without his tie to the All-Mind, his extreme age caught up with him in a matter of moments.
“I love y...” Valerian couldn't finish the sentence.
He was gone.
