by Rob Rosen
Later, sated by the meal, Redbone lounged by the fire. The dog returned and sat by his feet, the mutton bone between its massive paws. The flames dwindled but still crackled, and Redbone stared into its heat. Rumors of a savage warrior clan coming from the West disturbed Redbone. He’d seen smoke rising along the horizon, and when they captured a man lurking in the nearby woods, Redbone sent his man to spy. But now his man had not returned. It’d been weeks. His man never failed, but perhaps this time…
Voices broke in on Redbone’s thoughts. The men were telling stories of battles past and reveling in their numerous victories.
Redbone looked down and found the dog staring back at him. He scratched the beast’s head. Then, as though this gesture decided some question, Redbone sat up.
“Bring the prisoner!”
The men fell silent.
“Now!” Redbone bellowed and kicked at a man who stumbled before him. “Bring me the prisoner!”
The dog lifted its head and howled.
Redbone got up and disappeared into his tent, the dog following close behind.
Camus, Redbone’s second in command, pushed a large, muscular man to his knees.
Redbone regarded the man and then looked at his lieutenant. Behind them, the dog snarled.
“Axe,” Redbone ordered, and another man, Nos, brought forth a mighty instrument of horror, the symbol of his people’s strength. The blades dragged behind him in the dirt.
The man on his knees did not so much as lift his head.
Redbone grabbed the axe handle with such force that Nos lost his footing and fell down before the dog. The beast swiped at him with its claws the way a cat toys with a bird.
“Dog!” Redbone shot a menacing look at the animal.
Nos scrambled to his feet and retreated behind Camus.
Redbone approached the man kneeling before him, while Camus jerked the man’s head back by the long, dark braid that hung to his waist.
Redbone touched the man’s throat. “I’m going to kill you with this axe.” He lifted the terrifying weapon and regarded the fine curves of its double blade.
The man’s eyes widened, but he did not flinch. Redbone admired the fine lines of jaw and neck. The prisoner couldn’t be older than twenty turns of the wheel, and his skin, yet unblemished by battle, tempted the warrior king.
“Strip him,” Redbone ordered and watched Nos hold the man down while Camus stripped his crude wool garments. Once naked, the man stared defiantly at his captor.
“The demons of Blackmouth will have you,” the prisoner cursed.
Redbone smiled. “I do not fear demons.”
The man laughed. “All men kneel before Blackmouth, even savage fools.”
Redbone’s smile widened. “You speak strangely. Where have you come from?”
When the man didn’t answer, Camus struck him in the face, blood spraying from his nose.
The dog growled appreciatively.
“West,” the man grunted, red dripping down his chin.
“What does the West want from Redbone?” Camus demanded.
The man laughed but said nothing. Camus struck him again. This time the man hit the ground, hard.
Redbone ground his foot into the man’s head. “Speak!”
The dog curled its lips back and salivated, while Camus and Nos stared at Redbone expectantly.
Redbone’s brutal instincts were at odds. What if this western clan held his man captive and that’s why he hadn’t returned? Could they trade hostages?
The prisoner’s laugh grew louder.
What if they’d already killed his man? Redbone’s eyes widened with rage. He’d disembowel every one of them and feed them to the dog. No longer indecisive, he heaved the axe over his head and brought it down across the man’s neck.
Blood spurted up and spattered. The head rolled away from the body.
For a moment, silence filled the tent. The air reeked of blood. Redbone dropped the axe and laughed as he breathed it in.
“Dog!” he yelled as he backed away from the still corpse. “Go!”
The dog seized the body of the man and dragged it from the tent.
Later, when the fire died and the moon came from behind the clouds, Redbone awoke and opened his eyes.
A shadow, followed by a slight movement, drew his attention to the tent’s opening.
“Come!”
The tent flap billowed. Redbone smelled ash and blood and man, all of it intoxicating, familiar. His cock swelled beneath his sleeping furs and he licked his lips in anticipation.
“A warlord comes from the West,” a voice whispered.
“So be it! Let him come! Let him die!” Redbone replied and fell back onto the furs, his prick straining toward the tent roof. It arched impressively from a nest of copper-brown hair and pulsed with a powerful need. The rigid flesh twitched as though possessed by an unseen force, the foreskin sliding back, exposing a glistening, meaty head. Redbone’s own pungent scent mixed with the intense aroma coming from the whispering shadow.
For a moment, no reply came, but then the figure of a man, lean yet powerfully built, emerged from the darkness, his face revealed in profile. “He is called Highwind and he is powerful.”
Redbone watched as the man, his man, came closer. The scent of blood intensified. “No more warnings from you.” He reached up from the floor and stroked the man’s calves, then dug his fingers into the muscular flesh. “Come,” he commanded, which he’d done so many countless times before.
The man got on top of Redbone, who reached around and cupped the proffered ass. “I’ve waited too long for you,” he grunted.
The man responded by backing his ass against Redbone’s cock. He reached behind himself and stroked it until it seeped pearly fluid.
Redbone writhed beneath the man, arched and thrust as his cock was toyed with. “I want to fuck you,” he said, his voice now gravelly.
The man laughed and clutched Redbone’s bull-sized balls and tugged them until Redbone raised a hand to strike him. Again the man laughed.
He let go of Redbone’s sac and grabbed his fist instead. “You wouldn’t live to see it through.” The man slid down Redbone’s body until their lips touched.
The kiss, at first passionate, turned insistent. The man reached down and clasped their cocks together and stroked. Redbone clawed the man’s back and uttered primal grunts through their kiss until the man pulled away.
“Now,” the man exhaled, wiping saliva from his mouth before reaching back to slick his hole.
Redbone watched his massive cock disappear inside the man’s ass. Slowly, his body relaxed and then tensed again as the man slid off him. “More,” he growled.
The man lowered himself again and moaned when he took more of Redbone into his depths.
“More!” Redbone demanded, and this time when the man removed himself, Redbone clasped his hands on the man’s hips and thrust him down to the coarse bristles of his crotch.
The man gasped and hit Redbone square in the jaw. This didn’t stop him from taking Redbone’s cock and settling onto its demanding, exploratory fucking. He rocked back and forth on it. “Harder,” he insisted, panting all the while, sweat flinging off his brow.
Redbone complied, bucking and plunging deeper with each thrust. Soon their motions matched and the fucking became singular, a moment of dual pleasure melting together by their need for each other.
“Come!” Redbone barked as he rammed and slammed even harder.
The man clutched Redbone’s thighs and stroked his cock furiously, matching the deep pummeling of the mammoth prick inside of him.
Redbone’s eyes widened as a smile spread across his face. “Come on me,” he growled.
The undoing of their fuck came seconds later. The man’s first shot hit Redbone’s forehead, the second spraying his burnished beard. After that, Redbone only felt the hot shower of come as he closed his eyes and unleashed himself into the warm cavern coddling his cock. When the final gush of seed ebbed, he arc
hed his back and clung to the man.
After, when the world came back and the memories of blood and war settled between them, Redbone got up. The man followed and they left the tent together.
The night cloaked them as they left camp and sought the waters of a nearby stream. They bathed, but didn’t speak. When Redbone settled by the water’s edge, the man approached. Redbone stroked his thigh and said, “You were gone too long.”
The man remained silent.
“What does this Warlord Highwind want with me?” Redbone asked as he reached over and thumbed the man’s furry balls.
“It’s unclear,” the man simply whispered.
Redbone released the man’s balls and looked up. “Unclear?” He raised his voice. “You stay away for weeks and come back with nothing?”
The man shook his head. “I did not— ”
“I wait, the men wait, the dog waits for you!” Redbone pushed him away. “I thought you were dead!”
The man flinched. “I did everything I could.”
“You seed-swallowing whore-man!” Redbone heaved himself up off the ground. “Every cock in that foul western camp probably knows your mouth, and you, you dare come back with nothing to say!”
The man made as if to speak, but Redbone pushed past him. “You failed,” he snarled.
The man reached for Redbone. “I didn’t—”
Redbone shook him off. “Don’t come back until you have something.”
Redbone met one of his men as he exited the woods.
“Time to eat?” the man inquired. The savory smell of roasting hare carried on the breeze.
Redbone shoved the man aside. When he entered the camp, his men gathered around the fire.
Camus ran up to Redbone. “The men are hungry.”
Several loud grumbles rose up from the clan.
Redbone didn’t answer and simply strode past. The dog, guarding the entrance of Redbone’s tent, got up and padded over to its master. Redbone kicked at it, and the dog cowered.
“The dog is hungry,” Camus grunted.
Redbone stopped. He went over to the fire and grabbed the wooden poles used for cooking. He lifted them off the fire and swung them at the men.
“Eat!” Redbone tore one of the hares off the poles and threw it at Camus. “The battle comes and swine must eat!” He tore off another one and hurled it at the dog, then dropped the poles. They landed in a loud clatter.
The men, moved by hunger, scrambled around Camus and snatched the hare from the dirt, then grabbed those remaining on the poles. The dog tore viciously at the meat as he eyed Redbone.
Redbone’s chest glistened with sweat and hare fat. “Camus!”
Camus pushed the men aside and ran to Redbone.
Redbone gazed west. “Today we fight,” he growled, and strode to his tent.
Inside, Redbone stroked the blade of the axe as if it were his man’s iron prick. The fires of the enemy’s camp were now closer than ever. The battle would come quick and brutal; he was certain of it. He thought of his man, the way his mouth felt on his. He undid his leather belt and reached into his fur loin wrap. Hard and slick, his cock pulsed with excitement. Redbone stroked it until his powerful thighs buckled. He wanted the man, to feel his insides once again. He yanked his loin wrap down and pumped his hips back and forth. The blade of the axe, dangerously close to Redbone’s cockhead, intensified his enjoyment. His balls tightened and he called out to Blackmouth and the cruel demons inside the pit as his seed sprayed the shining blade. Spent, he dropped to his knees and rested his head against the axe.
He desperately wanted his man.
* * *
The day wore on, a sense of foreboding settling upon the camp. The dog whined and restlessly paced in front of Redbone’s tent. The men wrestled and sparred at Camus’s insistence, hoping practice combat would undo the disquiet. Nos assembled scouting parties in an effort to learn more of their enemy.
Redbone’s man did not appear.
Soon he will return, Redbone thought as he stared at the axe. He’ll come back…
A deep, thundering voice broke his mediation.
“Redbone!”
He lifted his eyes and heard men shouting and weapons clanging. He sprung to his feet, grabbing the axe before emerging from the tent.
At first, Redbone didn’t know where to look. His men gathered at the edge of camp, each carrying a weapon as they stared at the western hill.
Camus and Nos joined their leader, but Redbone held up his axe-free hand, and they fell back.
“Come and meet your death!” a voice boomed, echoing across the field.
Redbone shielded his eyes. As he adjusted to the sun’s glare, he saw the enemy, Highwind. He flinched, for at Highwind’s side was his man. His head hung down low, and when Highwind moved, his man veered unsteadily.
Redbone moved closer and saw a cruel length of barbed chain around the captive’s neck. He lifted the axe and pointed it at his enemy.
“Blackmouth have you, Highwind!” Redbone bellowed.
Highwind jerked the chain and the man fell to the ground. “No!” Highwind shouted. “Blackmouth will have Redbone and his spy-whore!”
Redbone looked at his man, rage welling within him. “Men!” he shouted, then strode forward.
At first, the warriors swarmed up behind him like a nest of angry wasps, but then faltered. A shadow passed over the sun and a large hawk flew overhead, its wings blocking out the fiery orb above. When it screeched, the men cowered.
Redbone looked up. His men were not archers, were not allowed to be, and so none knew how to battle the sky beast. He looked at his axe. Its heft felt worthless.
“Give me back my man!” he yelled over the hawk’s piercing cry.
Highwind came forward, and, as he did, an army descended the hill like a wave.
“For the axe, you get the whore-spy!” Highwind responded, then swung his arm with the chain outward, forcing Redbone’s man to jerk violently before him. “I’ll kill him, Redbone!”
Redbone moved closer until his eyes met his man’s. Above them, the hawk screeched and hung on the currents of hot wind like a malevolent cloud.
“Dog,” Redbone called. “Good dog, come.”
Redbone heard the men parting behind him and soon felt the dog’s hot breath on his legs.
The men, poised for war, their minds consumed with anxiety and battle-lust, strained under the burden of their leader’s strange behavior.
Redbone looked from the axe to his man.
“Now!” Highwind demanded. “Choose!”
Redbone lowered the axe. His sweat-soaked palms slid along the handle.
But before the axe touched the earth, a shrill cry from above suspended the action.
The hawk, struck by some object, dropped, caught itself on a current and struggled to regain its hold on the wind. When it fell, the dog charged after it.
Redbone, trained on split-second impulse, saw his enemy waver. With a swift upward motion, Redbone lifted the axe and charged. His man must’ve sensed the slack, because just then he lunged forward and dragged Highwind to meet Redbone.
“No axe,” Redbone barked as he brought the mighty weapon down upon Highwind’s right shoulder.
Highwind, no weakling, but not as large as Redbone either, howled beneath the cleaving device, which caused the enemy to rush forth, shouting all the while. Redbone knew his men had now joined him, as Nos and Camus flanked his side and took up battle.
Redbone glared down at Highwind, who writhed in his own blood, the leash still clasped in his hands. “No axe and not my man either!” He lifted the infernal weapon again and drove it down one final time.
The battle proved bloody and the hill turned red with it, the air stinking foul. The men of Redbone’s army glistened like terrible hell-demons in the sun—but the day was theirs.
Redbone kneeled beside his man and undid the barbed leash. “Are you hurt?”
The man bowed his head. “I have failed you.”
With the axe over one shoulder and his man resting against the other, Redbone walked through the carnage. His warriors gathered their fallen brothers to be burned, as was their custom.
Victorious, Redbone left the field. When he arrived at his tent, the dog awaited him, a massive hawk’s wing in its jaws. Redbone smiled. “Good dog.”
The dog followed Redbone inside.
Later, after night came and cleansed the day of its brutality, Redbone stared at his man sleeping peacefully on the furs, the dog right beside him.
“Redbone, I wish to speak.”
Redbone looked and saw Camus and Nos waiting by the tent flap.
Camus pushed Nos forward.
“Speak!” Redbone snapped.
Nos opened his mouth, then promptly closed it.
Camus grabbed something from behind Nos’s back and dropped it on the ground.
Redbone stared at the bow and arrows, then up at Nos. “You learned the weapons of the air?”
Nos kept quiet until Camus nudged him.
“Yes, I learned the weapons long before I joined with you,” Nos answered, his voice nervously quavering.
Redbone contemplated the odd-looking weapons. “Our men fight with weapons of the ground only. So says Blackmouth. It is our way.”
“Forgive me,” Nos said, bowing. “Death is all I am worthy of.”
Redbone shook his head. “Not death.” He chuckled. “You will teach our men how to use the weapons of the air, Black-mouth be damned.” Redbone waved them away.
The men, relieved and surprised, hurried from the tent. Redbone settled down to rest, but sleep evaded him.
When the night lengthened and still he couldn’t sleep, Redbone went to the stream. The woods were quiet and he bathed until his muscles stung with the cold water. When he emerged, his man waited for him. Redbone went to him. He would always go to him. Always.
The man touched Redbone’s face and stroked his coppery beard. The clouds scuttled past the moon as silver light crept between the trees.
Redbone saw the pattern of still-bleeding wounds across his man’s neck. He touched one and drew back as he elicited a flinch. “Does it hurt?”