Jepaul

by Katy Winter

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  It took Jepaul a long time to shake off the last lingering affects of fal and jul. The foul mouth and throbbing head were things he forgot. Male sexuality, though, was a different thing. It disturbed him, especially the physical result of being overdosed with fal, something that stayed with him for long days. Fascinated and repelled he stared down at himself, then blushing very deeply he hunched a shoulder and refused to speak to anyone. It took a patient Quon to explain to him that though Jepaul's initiation to manhood was unusual it was entirely normal. He also thought it was time Jepaul learned that other changes were the inevitable result of his changing from childhood to maturity.

  Only understanding and gentle teasing brought Jepaul to the acceptance that he was no longer a boy among men. He was, though admittedly still very young, one of them. And his voice, unsteady for weeks, settled to a deep, gruff bass. But he had one last anxiety.

  “Quon,” he began hesitantly one morning, as he and his mentor walked slightly ahead of the others. “Did anything happen to me - with the mimose?” He spoke with difficulty.

  “Other than new awareness of maturity, Jepaul, no.”

  Quon spoke with firmness. He omitted to speak of mimose intimacy or sexual proclivities, the old man aware the boy wasn't ready to comprehend the complexities of mimose activities under the influence of fal and jul. He was thankful Jepaul was only ruthlessly handled rather than given the same mimose experience Javen and Knellen received in full measure. The Doms decided Jepaul was more affected emotionally than anything else, the boy protected, in the fullest physical sense, by his jewellery. Without it, Sapphire suggested bluntly that the assaults on the boy would have been considerably more brutal and the inevitable end to the sexual play occurring very much sooner.

  As the days passed and the group moved further from the recurrent forays of the frustrated mimoses, Jepaul's attitude towards them markedly changed. At first he was distressed and kept close to the other men. But suddenly and unexpectedly he became assertively aggressive. On one attempt by the mimoses to ambush the small party, it was, to everyone's surprise, Jepaul who strode out from the others to confront the leading stallion. The mimose eyed him and licked his lips. His eyes gleamed with anticipation. Jepaul stood still and stared.

  When the stallion, impatient, stamped a foot, so did Jepaul. When the mimose shook his shaggy head and uttered a guttural call, Jepaul copied him. The boy mimicked every gesture and sound. It confounded the mimoses and profoundly irritated the lead stallion. It was as if a young colt, newly matured, actually dared to challenge him.

  The mimoses had captured a boy and forcibly made him acquiescent but now this same boy, unwittingly brought to maturity by them, defied them. And he did so in a way that made it clear he'd most strenuously resist being subjected again. The mimoses, unaccountably confused, felt no fear from this boy. Jepaul stood uncompromisingly, head flung back in the manner of a colt and his expression was hard to fathom. The mimoses were sure they could overpower him easily enough but, finally, after this encounter they decided he simply wasn't worth the effort.

  Besides, the Varen, alert now, looked decidedly dangerous and predatory and quite unlike the toy the females, then the males, had enjoyed days before. Javen looked downright pugnacious and the little fellow, though puny, had made a very good account of himself and was damnably elusive. The mimoses essentially relied on surprise and illusion to attract and subdue their prey. That was gone. Angrily, and disgruntled, they decided to withdraw. Upon their going, camp vigils ceased.

  That same evening, the Doms talked among themselves.

  “Why does Jepaul appear to develop each time something confronts him?” asked Wind Dancer perplexed.

  Sapphire rubbed his face, his beard now a full, lush reality like Quon's.

  “Good question, my friend,” he answered. He turned his head to Quon. “Well, Earth, what do you say to that?”

  “I don't know,” responded Quon pensively. “From the moment he underwent that ritual cleansing he's continued to evolve - in a purely spiritual sense. It's as if, with each challenge or experience, good or bad, something inside him blossoms in response and his powers, because we have to talk of them as a reality now, need these experiences as nourishment. Perhaps he can't continue to grow unless there is an external stimulus to make it happen.”

  Sapphire frowned thoughtfully.

  “So, where does it end?”

  “That we don't know.” Quon fell silent.

  “I don't believe there's harm in that boy,” said Wind Dancer into the silence. “We'd feel it. You both know that. It's not there in Jepaul. His gifts are patent but they don't develop so fast that he's out of control, nor do they seem to alter the essential Jepaul - rather they enhance the inherent qualities that we can all see so clearly make up his personality. I find it hard to even consider that he could be a threat to anyone.”

  “Me too,” sighed Quon. “But his looks grow ever more like the Progenitor, don't they, even to the unusual and beautiful amber eyes.”

  “I remember devilish pits for eyes,” said Sapphire, “not amber ones that laugh as Jepaul's do.”

  “Is he just a freak then?” asked Quon wearily.

  “No,” said Wind Dancer and Sapphire together.

  “He's infinitely more, but what I don't know,” added Sapphire.

  “And his destiny?” asked Wind Dancer.

  “I suspect Jepaul will lead us to that,” said Quon softly, “just as he's always done.”

  “Oh?” Wind Dancer raised an enquiring eyebrow.

  “His empathy,” replied Quon. “It's very real, old friend, make no mistake about that.”

 

  Another half syn passed. The travellers were well west and had come many, many weary miles on foot, their sighs for horses long over. They were toughened too. That included Wind Dancer and Quon, who, much to Sapphire's amusement, argued and discussed most of every day. Saracen was now hardened to life on the surface and his eyesight had improved to the point where he didn't scowl with a squint on waking. He winced less at the light. Before the Vene sent him to the surface he was fit, but now he was a tough nuggety little man with muscles any man would envy.

  Knellen, now increasingly Grypan but not entirely aware of it, was very much at his ease but still, though he never spoke of it, put out by the loss of his horse. Varen and horse went together. Javen's beard was magnificent. His physique may not have matched that of Knellen but like Saracen he was very fit and the light in his eyes showed how much he relished the path he now trod. Punishment and exile for Javen seemed syns ago.

  Quon looked weather-beaten. He was stoical and took comfort from the knowledge that every plodding step he took helped take Jepaul closer to safety and further from those who'd try to use him for harm. What else they'd do to the boy made Quon shiver with apprehension. Little of the boy he knew would be left.

  Sometimes Wind Dancer wasn't there in the morning. He'd come and go with a smile. Neither Quon nor Sapphire seemed to think this behaviour odd so no one else bothered to comment either. Sapphire was his usual genial, urbane self, with the ready smile and irresistible sense of humour. Javen wondered if the man actually took anything seriously, but Quon knew he did, the Dom's thoughts carefully concealed under a jovial exterior.

  Jepaul, now around six and a half feet tall, was bronzed, athletic, healthy, fleet of foot and extremely graceful, all trace of gawkiness gone. He was long haired too. He was also a formidable fighter in the mould of a Varen. Looking at him one day, Quon felt a surge of pride. Jepaul had survived. He was a sight any father could be excused for admiring, with his developing musculature and attractive beardless face. Every day Quon thought of the Progenitor, a slightly troubled expression coming to his face.

 

  They eventually paused in a forest clearing well northwest and far distant from mimose territory. And it was here they met the warrior women who surrounded them one evening. Quon and Sapphire talked softly, Knellen was dozing and Jave
n was whittling a stick. Saracen playfully wrestled Jepaul for possession of the staff Jepaul had found so long ago in the water and which he kept with him. Everybody froze.

  “Who are you?” asked a woman striding forward.

  She was tall and naked from the waist up, a fact that made other than the Doms stare at her in fascinated surprise. She was armed and carried a lethal-looking knife carelessly in one hand.

  “We're travellers,” answered Quon courteously.

  “Why do you travel on foot? It makes for unusual travellers to get along so slowly.”

  “Indeed,” agreed Quon, staring up into the woman's face. “We lost our horses when we landed south of Dawn-Saith.”

  The woman started, then stared down at the old man very closely.

  “Do you try to make a fool of me?” she demanded.

  “It's true,” said Jepaul, his eyes riveted to her waistline.

  “Ah, a young stallion!” laughed the woman. Those behind her eagerly surged forward but she signalled them back. Jepaul gazed up at her unembarrassed.

  “We sailed to Dawn-Saith, met up with mimoses in the north and have walked this far. We wish to keep going.”

  “But we would like you to stay with us,” suggested the woman.

  “Seductresses,” murmured Quon to himself. He had a most reprehensible twinkle in his eyes. He saw the answering glint in the warrior woman's eyes as they fleetingly met his. “You’re Maenades.”

  “Old man, you need horses, don't you?”

  “Yes,” admitted Quon warily.

  “There's a price for everything,” the woman said slyly. “But I don't think any of you will find the price too high. We crave your company, that's all.”

  “Is it?” asked Quon calmly. He met Sapphire's look. Both noticed Wind Dancer had been gone for longer than usual. He glanced up at the woman again. “Do we have any choice?”

  “Not at the moment,” returned the woman, her eyes gleaming, with something of malicious humour, down into his. “But we won't harm you, that I can promise you.”

  The small party was shepherded carefully through the forest to an encampment that offered, whether the travellers would admit it or not, amenities and comfort that was welcome. Ornate pavilions among more permanent structures were nestled among the trees which suggested these warrior women lived well.

  The group was brought to a halt in the central area. Here, much to Quon's annoyance they were quietly separated, though he was relieved Jepaul was allowed to stay with him. Sapphire was escorted to a pavilion and the other men were likewise segregated. Each was somewhat unwillingly led in a different direction.

  Quon, worn out, allowed himself to be persuaded to rest. The bed was inviting. He sank onto it, relaxed and was soon asleep. Jepaul, curious, walked to the pavilion entrance to be confronted by a young warrior woman who smiled at him. He involuntarily smiled back but quickly retreated even though she was prompt to reassure him.

  “I don't guard you,” she said. She waited but Jepaul said nothing in reply. “You can go wherever you like.”

  “You took our friends away. Why?”

  “We only offer them rest and recreation,” she protested, the warmth of her smile attracting Jepaul in spite of himself. He knew he blushed.

  “Who are the men we see around?” he asked, turning the subject. Her smile broadened.

  “They serve us.”

  “They serve you? In what way?”

  “They do whatever we ask of them.”

  “They're smaller than you women,” observed Jepaul, crossing back to the entrance and looking out.

  He watched the men who scurried like so many beetles, backwards and forwards, their tasks both domestic and culinary. They also seemed to care for the small number of children scattered about whom the women essentially ignored.

  “They serve our purpose,” said the young woman.

  “Are you married to one?” asked Jepaul, unaware of the astonishment that came to the woman's face.

  “Married?” she repeated.

  “Yes. Is one man more yours than any other?”

  “No, certainly not,” came the reply. Jepaul turned to face her. “We don't mate in that way. Is that what you do?”

  “Where I come from that was the way of things,” agreed Jepaul absently.

  “Here the males are used for breeding, along with other uses,” said the woman carefully. “Once they have served us as we demand, they do their chores about the camp. Our duty is to protect both them and the children we bear.”

  “But you don't raise the children?” Jepaul saw a haughty expression of disdain come to a face not that much older than his.

  “That is a man's task,” she answered distastefully. “Women have better things to do with their time.”

  “So why invite us to come to your camp? We're not like your other males.”

  “No, you're not.” The young woman suddenly broke into a trill of laughter. “On the contrary, you're quite, quite different. Have you used your youthful manhood yet?”

  Blushing furiously Jepaul stammered a reply and retreated, but the warrior woman was too quick for him. She caught him in an embrace all his strength couldn't break. When he went to protest, he found himself literally half-carried across the ground and into a pavilion. On the bed he tried to struggle but the young woman, still laughing, sat on him, tickled him and began to do novel things that had him catch his breath.

  His initiation into the wonders of manhood was tender, sympathetic and passionate. He responded, very tentatively, while the warrior woman crowed with delight, her eyes alight with sheer pleasure as she led a youth through his first sexual encounter. His naivety amused her as she gently taught and encouraged him, until finally Jepaul took the initiative for the first time. The woman gurgled with approval and enjoyment as she urged him on.

  How long Jepaul stayed with the woman he had no idea. He just knew that she offered him an experience that was exciting, sensual and infinitely satisfying. Exhausted but happy, he fell asleep. When he awoke, it was to a voice at his ear. The night came and went. Jepaul woke to daylight filtering through the roof of the pavilion. He turned to the woman next to him, but found her gone. When he walked from the pavilion he was pale, but he walked tall and with a spring to his step that made Quon, emerging from his pavilion, give a low laugh.

  “There you are then, Jepaul,” he scolded gently. “Belika told me you spent time with her.”

  “Quon!” Jepaul was crimson.

  “Dear boy, it's obvious what you've been doing. No harm or shame is in it. Go back again with whoever you choose but don't completely wear yourself out.” He saw Jepaul's expression and burst out laughing. “And no, before you ask, Jepaul, I'm far too old for that sort of nonsense even with enchantresses such as these.”

  Jepaul gave a shy smile.

  “Quon, it's -.” He broke off, confused.

  “Jepaul, you come to another stage of maturity. You're very young to have such experiences but I don't believe it'll do you any harm. Clearly, the warrior woman finds you attractive. Believe me, if you aren't ready for adult pleasures you'll soon find what your physical limitations are.”

  There was a long pause, then, smiling down at his mentor, Jepaul said softly,

  “Quon, they laugh a lot.”

  His eyes were very bright. He scuffed a bare foot in the dirt with a self-conscious look across at the older man.

  “And that makes them able to be trusted, does it, young man?”

  Jepaul blushed again but the wink that went with the words also made him grin rather sheepishly.

  “No,” he admitted. “Do you think they would hurt us?”

  “Oh I hope not, lad. I hope not.” Quon sighed. He glanced across and up at Jepaul. “They're eye-some too, aren't they?”

  “I didn't notice,” came the airy response.

  “Liar!” said Quon without heat. “You lay with a woman but didn't notice her charms? Jepaul!”

  “No, of course not,” confess
ed Jepaul on a sudden laugh, but he changed the subject. “Their men are tiny beside them and don't seem to have earned much respect.”

  “True, Jepaul. Remember that. It seems we've stumbled into a matriarchal society where women are the defenders, not the men. Interesting. They are Maenades.”

  “You know of them, don’t you?”

  “Oh yes, lad, indeed, from long, long ago.”

  “I think I'll go for a walk,” announced Jepaul.

  “Not tired yet?” asked Quon amused.

  He got a giggle for an answer as Jepaul loped from the pavilion.

 

  The women were indeed hospitable. Unlike the travellers their men folk were tiny of stature and were quite subservient to women. Sapphire saw one man taken severely to task. He thought they were more slaves than men. However, these men accepted their male guests with surprising enthusiasm and showed a rather touching respect for Quon. Since they didn't sight Wind Dancer and he didn't appear at all, a fact Quon and Sapphire thought was significant, they found only Quon to pamper.

  Quon was no fool but after long weeks he yearned to rest comfortably, so he wasn't disposed to argue when he was offered relaxation and massages and baths that eased his aching bones. Sapphire remained aloof. He made no more use of the favours offered than did Quon and his ebullient jocularity seemed to have deserted him. He stayed alert and mostly unsmiling as he watched the others indulge and be indulged. He often looked about him with searching suspicion but nothing crystallised in his mind. He studied Jepaul's jewellery. It remained visible and inert. That should have eased Sapphire's discomfort, but it didn't. Like Quon he knew Maenades from long ago and though he was pandered to, his mistrust was deep.

  Saracen was a novelty. No one that far west in Shalah had set eyes on a Grohol, not that any spoke of his origins, but it was clear to the Maenades that he was quite different. Like Quon, who intrigued them, he was treated with flattering distinction.

  And Jepaul fascinated them. They found it difficult to credit he was still so young, because his youthful physique suggested more maturity. From the first hours with the Maenades he became an object of desire. Sapphire thought Quon might be concerned but he noticed that the old man was simply content to let the boy come to maturity in his own way. Sapphire watched over Jepaul but didn't interfere with his pleasures and noticed, as did Quon, that though Jepaul attracted all the Maenades he only went to Belika as often as he could. He ignored any other overtures.

  So the days passed. It was Sapphire who told Quon they were rested enough and should now move on. Quon, slipping steadily under the influence of pleasant living with every whim pandered to, eyed his companion Dom a mite sourly and said they'd move soon. Later that day, there was an arrival.

  She was tall and queenly. She was unknown to the warrior women but because she was clearly a warrior like themselves she was welcomed. To Sapphire's consternation, she turned her immediate attention to Jepaul. The Dom saw the jewellery flare then rapidly fade long before the young woman could see he wore anything, but it was enough to make Sapphire's senses tingle with apprehension. It angered Belika too. She was highly possessive of Jepaul and looked upon any other interest in him as a challenge. Sapphire saw trouble ahead, tried to warn a recalcitrant Quon but could do nothing. He tried, gently, to warn Jepaul. He got a sweet, absent smile. Jepaul turned away with Belika.

  Angry at Quon and his own seeming impotence, Sapphire decided to watch how the old Dom was treated and saw the doses administered in Quon's food. He moved on. His measuring eyes took in the doses served to the others, including Jepaul. They were minute amounts. Sapphire suddenly realised his inactivity was also a result of food and drink, stopped accepting anything brought to his pavilion where he usually sat or lay in splendid isolation, and instead began to insist on getting his own food. Shrugging, but displeased, the men left him alone.

  And Sapphire's clarity returned. He'd felt sleepiness threaten him for days. But now he sensed movement near him in the pavilion and swung round defensively, every faculty on the alert.

  “You're with us again, are you, Water?” asked a cynical, quiet voice behind him.

  “Wind Dancer!” Sapphire stared hard at the other Dom who stood calmly surveying him, his wild hair ruffled and robes floating about him in the way they always did.

  “Trying to reach you has been impossible, old friend. I decided I had to come.”

  “My mind's been clouded.”

  “A complete dense fog more belike,” commented Wind Dancer amused. “Don't you know when you're given gatril?”

  Sapphire gave a snort of disgust.

  “For the demons! You'd have thought Earth’s behaviour enough of a hint, wouldn't you?”

  “Yes,” agreed Wind Dancer, shaking his head at his companion but with a most understanding laugh in his eyes. “Very hard to detect,” he excused the Dom. “And the amounts given are very, very small.”

  “But why?” demanded Sapphire exasperated. “And where the hells have you been?”

  “I took off just to have a look around and ahead, old friend, but then I found a young woman wandering round the outskirts of the camp. She behaved in an unusual way that aroused my insatiable curiosity. Then she left. I shadowed her. She appeared to wait for her moment. It is now presumably.”

  “How long has she waited?”

  “About nine days.”

  “Odd.”

  “Very,” agreed Wind Dancer amiably. “I then discovered as you did, almost at the same time, that you were all being given gatril. It seemed an opportune moment to come to you because calls gave no response at all. It was as if you were deaf.”

  “Dulled senses.”

  “Only some of them,” reminded Wind Dancer with a wicked grin.

  “Quite,” murmured Sapphire.

  “You've disappointed them, Water. They wanted you too, you know. Not kind to disdain them so,” he added irrepressibly.

  “Damn you!” said Sapphire affably. “Quon didn't oblige either.”

  “But he did,” contradicted Wind Dancer gently.

  “What?”

  “Jepaul responds to Earth. To have Earth happy meant Jepaul would stay.”

  “For what purpose?”

  “To enable this visitor to arrive.”

  “No,” Sapphire said positively. “If that was so, she'd have made herself known nine days ago. No, I think her arrival is something else again.”

  “Coincidence?” hazarded Wind Dancer.

  “Opportune,” suggested Sapphire. “Was she a warrior woman outside the camp?”

  “Yes.”

  “No help there then,” muttered Sapphire. “What do you do now, Dancer?”

  “I remain out of sight until an appropriate moment,” came the cheerful response.

  “There is trouble brewing between the stranger and Belika. I don't like it.”

  “No,” agreed Wind Dancer with a frown. “We just have to feel our way.”