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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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The Demon Crown
By Wulf (marawuti@spiritone.com)
***
Most people will tell you to steer clear of demons,
especially in this business. Demons, they say, are
treacherous, violent and unpredictable. They'll screw
you every time. I must admit that I certainly did end
up screwed after I met one particular demon. In several
senses of the word. And that's not necessarily a bad
thing. (MFF, fantasy)
***
CHAPTER I
---------
I'm a freelance by trade. From the two words "free,"
meaning unfettered and unencumbered, and "lance,"
meaning lancer, horseman, warrior, or soldier. In my
case, I combine several talents -- I'm a fighter, but
not a great one, a thief but not a highly skilled one,
an assassin but not a subtle one, a horseman but not an
outstanding one, and a wizard but not an accomplished
one. While none of my skills is first-rate, I am
second-rate at enough things that I can work a variety
of assignments at an economical rate, with holiday
discounts.
I go by a variety of names -- I'm not even sure which
one I was born with. I prefer Wulf, because it conjures
up an image of me as a grizzled, northern warrior
standing at the prow of a longship, an axe in my hand
and fire in my eyes.
It's a nice image. Too bad it's so far from the truth.
In reality, I'm tall and rangy, with about enough
musculature to propel me out of trouble at high speed
when the going gets tough. I can pull and eighty-pound
bow with some difficulty, but I'm not up to extended
powerstroking with a Litharnan two-hander. My hair is
naturally red, but it has a tendency to change,
depending on who I'm running from, and what the current
"wanted" poster looks like.
I operate out of Stoneburg, the Free City, crossroads
of the world, and home of the most corrupt and
bribeable civil officials known to man, elf, or any
other species. I'm most often to be found in an armpit
better known as the Goblin's Eye, although I have a few
other safe houses scattered around the Thieves' Quarter
(some "quarter" -- it takes up two-thirds of the
city...).
It all started in the middle of a job. Tev the merchant
had made more money than the rest of us thought seemly,
and I was busy relieving him of some of it.
Tev was certainly living well -- his mansion was lined
with marble hallways, granite pillars and a whole lot
of valuable (and, just incidentally, hand portable)
artwork. Most of this was penny- ante stuff; while I
took a few pieces to stay in practice, the real prize
lay in Tev's crystal-roofed solarium, surrounded by
alarms and traps, both magical and physical.
It was a lovely bit of work -- a Xeshite erotic carving
depicting a man, woman and tigress in an unlikely
coupling which combined lyrical curves with skilled
detail work. More than the aesthetic value of the
piece, which was considerable, I wanted it because it
was carved from a single chunk of Eish, a normally
black mineral which refracted light shone on it into a
shimmering rainbow of colors, and emitted light for
several hours in darkness.
I was busy overcoming a tricky pattern-spell, which
wove an invisible network of magical lines all over the
room, setting off alarms and pre-set missile spells if
the lines were crossed. I was kneeling in the middle of
an enchanted circle which I'd drawn with chalk,
mumbling a counter-spell which would make the magical
lines visible when I noticed a dim red glow in the air.
At first I thought I'd set off a trap, but then I
realized that nothing was happening to me, and no
alarms were jangling. Then, to my surprise, I
discovered that all the magical traps had vanished,
leaving the way to the carving free and clear. I was
about to thank providence for the event when I noted
the source of the red glow.
My heart leaped into my throat.
I'd spent enough time on the frontier to know a demon
when I see one; this one was a demon in spades.
For the sake of the uneducated, I will now digress for
a moment into a few paragraphs of exposition. Demons
don't belong here. They showed up some centuries ago,
having been thrown off their home plane and proceeded
to make things really crummy for the rest of us who
lived here. In fact, their name derives from the
original misconception that they actually came from
hell. The name sticks today, but "demons" as a race are
considered distinct from "daemons," malevolent
creatures of infernal origin.
Some theorists even go so far as to suggest that the
demons' arrival was somehow related to the cataclysm
which shattered the old continent, transforming it into
the scatter of islands, sub-continents and small seas
which we live in today. After a time, things
stabilized, and the demon realms remained separate from
the realms of men, elves, dwarves, and all the other
nasty little creatures.
Although we're all technically at war with the demon
isles, no one really takes it seriously anymore.
Occasionally, we raid across each other's borders and
cause miscellaneous havoc, and our various moronic
rulers plan grand campaigns and threaten bloody war,
but it generally comes to nothing.
Contact between the realms is pretty much limited to
the diplomatic level. I know that the White Emperor has
several demon ambassadors at his court, but he's crazy
and probably under their control, so he doesn't really
count. Most of the rest of us never see demons, except
on the frontier, where they're thick as flies.
The individual confronting me was a demon, do doubt of
it. Demons are never ugly in the traditional sense.
Instead, they are all exceptionally beautiful, but with
a disturbing undercurrent of the perverse, the lustful,
the cruel. Needless to say, most humans find them
fascinating.
She was tall and voluptuous, all breasts and hips, with
a swirl of night-black hair. Almond-shaped yellow eyes
gazed at me from a chiseled, heart-shaped face, and
thick, pouty, black lips parted to reveal sharp canines
and a flicking, almost snake-like tongue. Her skin was
a vivid crimson, decorated with flickering blue
tattoos. She said nothing, but walked slowly forward,
her high, black heels clicking on the marble floor. I
continued kneeling, transfixed, in the center of my
magic circle, unsure whether to fight, flee, or fall on
my face and beg for mercy.
As demons are highly resistant to mortal weapons,
clothing and armor are a question of taste and fashion.
This one had taste, but it was tawdry at best. She wore
a lurid mixture of black leather, silvery mail and lace
as tenuous as spider webs, seemingly inadequate to the
task of confining the dangerous swelling of her
breasts, but doing so quite nicely, thank you. A
variety of implements of death and torture hung from
her belt, and I did not for a moment think that any
were just for show.
"You're Wulf," she said, stating the fact with stark
simplicity. Her voice could be described either as a
chorus of evil angels or the enthused shriek of a
masochist on the rack. Hard to imagine? I guess you had
to be there.
I nodded, dumbly, realizing that with all my
considerable preparations, I had forgotten to pack a
holy knife, one of the few items effective against
demons and infernal guard-creatures. Shit.
"No heartcutter, either?" she said, smiling sweetly,
using the demons' name for the knife. "Shame, shame."
She was reading my mind, too. Shit.
"Such language from such an innocent-looking child,"
she continued, walking closer and squatting down at the
edge of my circle.
I finally found my tongue. "Who..." I swallowed. "Who
are you calling innocent-looking?"
If a viper could grin, he would look just like my
voluptuous demoness did just then. "No one. I was just
being complimentary. Actually, you have sin written all
over you. I like that."
"You would." I had pretty much given up on continued
existence, so I was going to get in as many shots as
possible beforehand. "So, are you going to kill me or
what?"
As she rose and stepped back, the viper-smile did not
waver. "Or what? Exactly what does that mean? Do you
mind if I get up?"
"Certainly, although I've always liked men on their
knees."
The snake-tongue flicked across her thick lips once
more. "And step out of that pathetic circle while
you're at it. I could break it, but I don't feel like
expending the effort."
I believed her. My minimal protective spells had pretty
much expired by this point in any event. I stood and
stepped out.
"Hm." She looked me up and down like a prospective
horse buyer. "Not much meat on your bones."
"Sorry to disappoint. I wouldn't make much of a meal."
My heart raced furiously, but I kept up a bold front.
"So, are you Tev's watchdog, or what?"
She frowned. "Tev? Oh, you mean the master of the
house. No, you won't have to worry about him or his
guards. They'll be sleeping for quite a while. We're
all alone." This last statement was punctuated with a
lascivious glance through slitted yellow eyes. I
shuddered.
"So you doped the entire household just to talk to me?"
I asked. "I'm flattered."
"You should be. You come highly recommended."
"By who? I don't have many customers who deal with your
kind."
"Her name is Livia," she replied. "We're quite...
close."
Gods... Livia. Sorceress, mercenary, fellow freelance
with a moral code as flexible as a Xeshite python. We'd
worked together in a variety of circumstances, and had
actually managed to do some rutting under a waterfall
in Kenth. Since then, much to my chagrin, she'd ignored
my pleas for a return engagement, treating me as that
most dreaded of companions, a "friend." I'd long ago
come to the conclusion that my love and lust for her
was doomed to remain unrequited. That she was keeping
company with demons came as no real shock to me.
"How close?" I asked, suspiciously.
A giggle is a particularly ominous thing when it issues
from a demon's throat. This demon gave it a rather
lascivious twist in addition. I got the picture.
"So." I said. "Exactly what did the little minx
recommend me for?"
"A job, among other things," she said with another
secret smile. "My name is Narisha, by the way. Daughter
of Lord Cammon the Flayer."
My heart sank. "Defiler of Mie? Destroyer of Yitan?
Assassin of the Nine Adepts? That Cammon?"
"None other. Don't worry. He's not involved in all
this. He doesn't even know I'm here."
"Better and better. And if he ever does find out, I
burn in hellfire and you get sent to your room without
supper, right?"
She rolled her eyes. "Such dramatics. You would think
you'd never been approached by a prospective client
before."
Prospective client? I sat heavily down upon Tev's
overly gaudy and expensive couch. It was the last thing
I'd expected.
"So what does a demon want with a human freelance?" I
asked.
"Not a well-known one, even."
"Because it suits my purpose," Narisha said. "The job
is one which I don't want other demons to know about,
and I don't want to attract the attention of hiring
anyone famous."
"Gee, thanks." Praising with faint damns, this female
was.
She stood in front of me, feet planted widely, pulled a
black leather riding crop from her belt and brandished
it meaningfully. "I'm not praising with faint damns, as
much as you might think I am. You're good. I know that.
There is an item which I need retrieved, and you're the
freelance I want to do it."
I cast a nervous glance at the crop. "What's the item
and where is it?"
"Do you accept the job?"
"I need more information." I knew that I was skating on
thin ice here, as demons have notoriously short fuses
and distressingly final ways of ending arguments. "If
you're asking me to go steal the Gem of Ages from the
Worldserpent's horde I'm afraid I'll have to refuse. If
you want me to go knock over a beggar and take his cup,
that's another story entirely."
She considered this for a moment. I considered the fact
that the whip didn't move to be a good sign. "Somewhere
in between the extremes, if you must know." Her
expression changed, becoming almost pleading. Gods,
this was a first.
"Yes!" she barked. "It is a first. I've never had to
ask nicely for anything in my life. I lost something.
Or, more accurately, something got stolen while it was
in my care. Something that belonged to my father."
"Go on."
"We Only People -- " here, she used the demons' term
for themselves -- "are nowhere near as united as you
mortals think. We fight among ourselves constantly."
"That much I know. I take it that a rival of your
family took this 'item' and won't give it back? And
your father will tan your hide when he finds out?"
"Worse than that, I'm afraid," she said. "I could be
banished."
"Heavy," I replied. Banishment was a virtual death
sentence, removing all family and racial protection
from its victim, turning him out into a wide world full
of enemies, both mortal and demonic.
"I know that this is not a normal situation," Narisha
said. "I'm at what you mortals call the end of my rope.
I need help. I can pay." She reached into a pouch which
hung at her belt between a coiled bullwhip and what
appeared to be a pair of leather manacles, then held
out her hand to me. My jaw dropped. There, nestled in
her crimson palm, was a matched pair of ghost-gems,
each worth an princeling's horde. It was said that the
demons distilled the gems from souls in torment, but
that was only a rumor. "One of these now. The other --
plus five more -- upon completion."
I was astonished. I couldn't help myself.
"Fuck me," I whispered.
She giggled again, putting the gems away. "That could
be arranged, too," she said, "but I was thinking of it
only as a fringe benefit."
With that, she stepped back, loosening the silver
skull-buckle of her belt. The leather-and-mail tunic
parted, revealing an expanse of crimson flesh, screened
by black spider-web lace. She bore a variety of
abstract blue tattoos, all of which flickered in the
half-light.
Demons also have the ability to inspire various
emotions in lesser creatures. I wasn't sure whether the
heart-hammering lust which swept through me was of
magical or natural origin, and I didn't care. My
breeches were feeling remarkably tight, but I my
business sense still hung on like grim death.
"What's the item?" I asked, panting as she slid her
jacket off, exposing her magnificent breasts, large and
ripe-looking, with prominent nipples the color of dried
blood.
"Oh, just a silly little crown," she continued. Long-
nailed fingers tugged at the lacing of her breeches.
They were cunningly designed, capable of being removed
without first taking off the black, knee-high boots she
wore. A sinuous dragon flickered and writhed along her
smooth, red haunch. You have to give those demons
credit; what they don't know about sex isn't worth
knowing.
"And..." I muttered. Her hands pulled open my jerkin,
effortlessly snapping the fastenings, and glided across
my naked skin beneath. Her nails were long, black, and
very sharp. "And..." I gritted my teeth. "...And who
has this 'silly little crown'?"
"Duke Janus, my father's rival," she whispered. "It's
at his fortress in Hellmouth. Simple job, really..."
She stood back, her exploring hands withdrawing. She
was clad only in lace and her boots, inadequately
covered with thin black spider webs. "So, do you
accept?"
I was breathing heavily, so I was barely able to choke
out, "Sure, what the hell?"
She grinned, revealing her sharp white teeth again. Red
fire gleamed in her eyes. Then she dug her black nails
into the lace between her breasts and pulled it apart.
The twin prominences swung free. I noticed that her
left nipple bore a twinkling green gem, set in a tiny
gold circle.
"Like your ring," I said, pulling my jerkin off.
"Didn't that hurt?"
"It certainly did," she hissed, relieving herself of
the last of the lace. "It hurt terribly. That's why I
did it."
Naked now save for those damned boots, her black hair
cascading down her back like a dark waterfall, she slid
to her knees, and set to pulling down my breeches. I
helped as best I could, finally allowing my now-
engorged member to breath free.
"Oh..." she seemed enchanted with it, encircling the
organ with her sharp-nailed fingers. She ran a claw up
and down its length, barely breaking the skin.
"We've elevated pain to an art, human," she whispered,
hungrily. "There's such a fine line between pain and
pleasure. We cross it with abandon. Eventually, we
can't tell the difference."
Gods, I'd seen this attitude before, in the perverse
Countess Xylara and in the wicked Lady Thae'lynn of the
dark elves, both of whom I remembered with a mixture of
fear, loathing and uncontrollable lust. I groaned
incoherently at the thought of once more dealing with
such a female. There really wasn't much else to say.
The snake-tongue flicked out, lapping my shaft. The
dagger-like white teeth were just a fraction of an inch
from my erect, painfully straining flesh. Fear mixed
with ecstasy now.
"Ahhhh..." she breathed. "You feel it now, don't you?
Agony and longing together? You want it, don't you? You
want to feel my lips embrace your proud stallion?"
"Yessss," was about the only thing I could say at that
point, although, in retrospect, I realize that her
choice of metaphors was pretty appalling. For all the
lust and desire which raced through my veins like
boiling lead, however, there was also an edge of
fear... fear of those sharp white teeth and razor-like
claws. And the fear fed my lust. I knew then what it
was to love a demon.
"Feel it, then..." her lips, black and shining,
encircled the head of my cock, and the long tongue
caressed it as she slid her mouth down, down, down...
Perhaps it was demonic sex-magic. Perhaps it was my
fear continuing to drive me. Perhaps it was simply the
exotic novelty of the situation... whatever it was, it
was like nothing else I had ever experienced. Not with
Livia, when we came together beneath the silver-white
waterfalls of Kenth, not with Sarra the elf-druid in
her grove at midnight, not with the lion women of the
Veldt Lands, Ushandra the Warrioress, or any one of a
dozen others -- gods and demons, what she made me
feel...
Her spittle was like fire, covering my organ with
burning pleasure, spreading through my entire body,
wrapping around my heart and my brain, transporting me
to another place, beyond the moonlit recesses of Tev's
solarium.
The demoness and I seemed to inhabit a tiny universe
all our own, floating endlessly in a void where
pleasure and pain chased each other round and round,
mixing and combining until they were indistinguishable.
I no longer feared the teeth, the claws... rather, I
wanted them. I wanted to feel her nails score my flesh,
and shed my hot blood. I wanted her teeth to bite deep
and drink in the gushing fluids... I wanted pain from
her, and -- almost -- I no longer cared if I lived or
died beneath her lashing tongue and sucking lips.
Almost... Almost... I no longer cared.
Fortunately for me, I have a tendency to retain a
small, calm corner of my brain where reason and logic
still function, even in the face of the most mindless
passion. There, deep in the cobwebby recesses of my
mind, where little mice nibbled at my random thoughts
and memories, I realized that I did care whether I
lived or died.
I pulled myself back to earth along the rope which that
thought formed. Back to where the naked demoness still
devoured my hot, desiring flesh. Her mouth released me
at that moment, and my cock, still slick with her
burning juice, slipped between her heavy, sweating
breasts.
"Yesss..." Now it was her turn. "There, my little
human... Spill your seed there for me..."
Her nails clutched at the flesh of her breasts and
nipples, digging furrows which oozed black blood. The
blood mixed with her sweat and spittle, further
lubricating the slippery tunnel between her mammoth
breasts. So like her burning mouth... so like...
Final passion swept over me like a crushing landslide.
I groaned deeply and felt the passion spew out of me,
splashing white upon the dark red flesh of her breasts.
I continued to thrust between them, mixing all our
fluids together as her even as her own sighs combined
with my moans. Gods...
I heard her mumbling something in her own language,
chanting rhythmically as my climax went on and on,
beyond the limits of what I knew was normal. Her tongue
flickered out to lick up the hot seed and sweat and
demon blood between her breasts. Then she leaned
forward, grasping my head in both hands, thrusting it
into the deep valley of her chest.
"Drink, child," she whispered feverishly. "Share with
me."
A brief brush of apprehension was swept away by a new
tide of lust, and our tongues met, sharing the
different fluids that ran and mixed there. Fiery
sensations chased each other down my throat and through
my chest... I felt drunk. Gods...
"Now, my darling human," her voice was hushed, full of
emotion which I could not describe. "Now we are as one,
you and I."
I was too exhausted to inquire further. I slipped to
the cold, marble floor and felt her smooth, sweating
body slip down on top of me. I either fell asleep quite
quickly at that point or -- as is more likely --
fainted, plunging down into moist, welcoming darkness,
where Narisha's claws still caressed and tormented me.
I woke some hours later to find that my dream had
translated back into reality, and a more leisurely
coupling with my lusty demoness ensued. I don't
remember much of it, however, so I won't relate its
details here. Suffice to say, when I staggered home an
hour before dawn (with the Xeshite carving, might I add
-- I wasn't completely befuddled by Narisha's charms),
I collapsed heavily and slept.
"Now we are one, you and I." Little was I to know how
important those words were to become.
CHAPTER II
----------
Life is full of rude awakenings, but this one was ruder
than most. Being rousted out of bed by a pair of ogres
in ill-fitting constabulary uniforms is not my idea of
a pleasant morning experience, especially after the
previous night's debaucheries. And especially when
their chosen method of awakening me was to kick my
physically from under the covers.
I was still half-asleep when I hit the floor, dreams of
Narisha still swirling in and out of the mists. Before
I could wake up completely, one of the ogres grabbed
me, yanking me roughly to my feet, pinning my arms
behind me. When at last I opened my eyes fully, I
wished I had kept them closed.
Ogre number two stood in front of me, looking
ridiculous in his undersized blue and yellow jerkin,
but didn't bother me. What was standing next to him
did.
"Scrutator Niall," I said with all the ill-grace I
could muster that early in the morning. "Nice of you to
drop in. Why aren't you out in the forest somewhere,
making merry?"
Niall chuckled, spitting out the spear of wood he had
been chewing on. He was a short, odious little elf,
thin and frail-looking, his thin hair swept up in a
greasy pony-tail behind. The overall impression he left
was one of a puddle of vile slime which had somehow
taken on humanoid characteristics. As you may have
guessed, I was very fond of him.
"Spare me the banter, Wulf-breath," he growled.
"Someone knocked out Margal Tev and his entire
household with magic and robbed him blind last night --
I don't suppose you know anything about it?"
I rolled my eyes. "Sure I do, constable. I met the
demon who did it while I was robbing Tev's house. She
zapped him and his guards, then she sucked me off right
in Tev's solarium."
"Don't get wise with me, footpad." Niall shoved his
face directly into mine, eyes staring. "I'm a servant
of the council."
"You're a servant of whoever bribes you the most," I
shot back. "The only reason you and your goons are here
is because I won't pay protection. How much did Tev pay
you to shake me down, anyway?"
Niall was silent for a moment, then turned around and
walked over to the single, sooty window, which provided
a magnificent view of the adjoining brick wall.
"I'm not an unreasonable man, Wulf," he said in a
quiet, cultured tone. "Under other circumstances, we
might have been friends."
"That would be the day, wouldn't it?" I met the gaze of
Niall's guard ogre, an unpleasantly pale specimen
covered with brownish-green liver spots. "What are you
looking at, Chim-Chim? I'm fresh out of bananas."
The ogre looked perplexed. "Huh..."
"Never mind. You'd have to be higher up on the food
chain to get it. Did you know you were awfully short
for an elf, Niall?"
Niall grunted. "Such a sense of humor. Was that what
got you kicked out of the academy?"
"That, and the fact that I had scruples."
"Scruples?" The word seemed alien to Niall. "Hell,
Wulf-boy, you wouldn't know scruples if they snuck up
and bit you in the ass! Tev says that several valuable
items were missing from his house. You have any idea
where they are?"
"Not a clue, scrutator," I replied. "Isn't that your
job?"
Not that they were around here, either. I had had
enough sense to secrete the items in a safe-house on
the way home.
Niall smiled. It was not a nice smile.
"I was hoping you'd say that, my lad." He motioned to
the ogre beside him. "Grud, search the place. Don't
leave any cranny unexplored."
"Duh, ya boss," said Grud with ogreish enthusiasm,
turning to immediately start ripping my writing desk
apart.
"Skab," Niall continued to the ogre who held me. "Take
Mr. Wulf out back and do the same to him."
"Duh, ya boss." Skab nodded dumbly, a sadistic look
gleaming in his eyes. He pulled me, not gently, toward
the door and the steps down to the alley.
"Oh, yes," Niall called just as we started down. "Leave
him alive, please, Skab. I may want to charge him
later."
"Ya, boss," Skab said with a trace of disappointment.
Well, despite the fact that I was not about to be
killed, the notion of a beating from an ogre was not a
pleasant one. To Skab, "leave him alive" could easily
mean "reduce him to a crippled vegetable, but make sure
that he still has vital signs." In fact, that would
suit Niall just fine, as I could not then speak up in
my own defense. Therefore, as the ogre alternately
shoved and pushed me down the rickety stairs, I ran
over various escape plans in my mind. Much to my
regret, none of them involved escape from a
psychopathic ogre with orders to beat me into a bloody
pulp.
However, as I'm fond of saying, fortune favors the
lucky. The rickety steps were never designed to
accommodate the 400-pound frame of a fully grown male
ogre, and they'd been substantially weakened when Niall
and the no-brain twins had traversed them earlier. A
lurch, a splintering sound and a grunt of surprise from
Skab indicated to me that something was wrong. In the
instant that Skab suddenly plunged through a broken
step, howling with agony as a nail-studded piece of
wood pierced his tough hide, I twisted away, tumbling
down the remaining steps to the street.
I leapt upright (realizing as I did so that I was still
shirtless, and my best boots were upstairs with Niall
and JoJo the Caveboy) and cast a glance back.
Skab's struggles had loosened the supports beneath the
stairs, and in a moment the entire affair splintered
and crashed to the ground in a cloud of dust and broken
wood. Of Skab, I could see nothing immediately, nor did
I care to. Heedless of my bare feet against the gritty
cobblestones, I turned and ran, catching one last
glimpse of Niall's red and angry face appearing at my
doorway, twenty feet above the street, and heard his
hoarse shouts of rage. Then I was gone.
Within an hour I had visited one of my safe-places and
obtained clothes and serviceable weapons. I then
retrieved last night's loot and with the exception of
the ghost gems, of course -- fenced it for far less
than it was worth. Most of the resulting cash I spent
on bribes to Niall's superiors to get him assigned to
the sewer patrol for a few days, and consequently off
my ass temporarily. All things considered, a completely
wasted morning.
I spent the afternoon in a funk, hiding out in one of
my rooms at a dive called the Red Shark. I cast about
desperately for someone to be angry at and, much to my
regret, came up empty.
I wasn't really angry at Niall. His kind are as
inevitable as rats and roaches. He may have been a wart
on the collective posterior of humanoid society, but
even I had to admit that he was just doing his job.
As for Narisha, all she was interested in was hiring a
no-name freelance for a difficult job. Besides, much to
my intense regret, when I thought of her, I felt an
emotion somewhat deeper than mere lust. Damn, what the
hell what happening to me?
How about Livia -- she had recommended me. Probably in
the heat of passion, the way Narisha described it, but
that was irrelevant. Hell, she probably thought she was
doing me a favor. Besides, despite her changeable and
somewhat dangerous nature, I actually harbored some
degree of fondness for the treacherous little vixen.
After an hour or two of reflection, I came to the
conclusion that I really didn't have much reason to be
angry about anything. I was just starting to wonder
when I'd see Narisha again (and wondering exactly what
we'd do to each other) when a faint scratching at the
door grabbed my attention.
"Narisha?" I asked, not thinking, swiveling my head to
look toward the door.
It wasn't Narisha. The rickety door burst in abruptly,
showering me with fragments of wood. As I sprang to my
feet, fumbling for a weapon, I was confronted with a
nightmarish vision.
The thing looked like a sickly pink amalgam of man,
crab and spider. A pair of snapping claws extended from
an obese, fleshy body, which sprouted manlike legs and
was topped off with a hairy, eight-eyed "head."
Hunting beast. The demons use them to track down
criminals, escaped slaves and particularly hated
enemies. They came in a variety of shapes and colors,
and I recognized this one as a heavy-duty customer.
I was on the second floor, but a fall from that height
was nothing compared to death -- or worse -- at the
claws of the hissing, clacking monstrosity which lunged
at me. I turned for the window, only to see a second
thing -- this one looking like some kind of bat-
scorpion crossbreed shattering the glass and clambering
in after me. It, too, hissed, opening a fanged maw, and
sending a sticky, pink, spike-studded tongue shooting
out right at my face.
I ducked, yelling for help, and the tongue instead
wrapped around one of the bed's cornerposts. I fell
flat and rolled beneath the bed. The spider-thing
scuttled after, grabbed the bedframe and heaved it
over. Fortunately for me, it struck the bat-thing,
sending it sprawling.
My weapons went skidding across the floor. I ducked and
grabbed desperately, reaching for a black-hilted
dagger. My hand fell upon the grip and I pulled the
dagger free.
The bat-demon had recovered and was dragging itself
across the floor at me, its long, stinger-tipped tail
waving ominously. I sidestepped, seizing the tail in
one hand, slicing with the other.
Heartcutter, Narisha had called it. Demons have such a
way with words. We call them holy knives or
demonslayers. Whatever you call them, they do the job.
Demon-flesh parted. The bat-thing was sliced stem to
stern, rotten bone, black blood and writhing entrails
bursting out. With a second stroke I severed the
demon's tail -- no sense in being struck by the thing
while it flailed about.
Hunting beasts have no mind to speak of -- they are
simply set in motion and follow their orders until
destroyed. They don't follow logic, they can't be
reasoned with, and they don't feel fear. I knew that,
of me and the surviving beast, only one of us was
leaving this room in one piece.
The spider-beast rushed at me, hissing with single-
minded malevolence. A claw grazed my shoulder, ripping
cloth, sending pain burning through my entire arm. I
staggered, fell back...
It leaped, limbs spread out, seeking to crush me
beneath it. To my horror, I saw a yawning pink mouth
open up in its midsection, fanged with backward-
pointing teeth. Desperately, I thrust up with my
dagger.
My arm shot down into the creatures' mouth, dagger
pointed up. The thing's momentum carried it down on top
of me, driving the dagger deep through its maw, into
its vitals, and, with an explosion of foul, black
ichor, out through its back.
The demon was dead, but it didn't know it yet. Its
crushing weight bore down on me, and I could feel its
maw gnaw away at my arm, its tiny teeth cutting into my
flesh like needles. I moved my arm, cutting again,
slicing upward through its body, seeking its head.
Demon flesh parted before the dagger, slicing cleanly
and falling away.
Then, I saw a human face, suspended above me. Then
another. It was the Trus the innkeeper and his bouncer,
Gralz. The bouncer's arm swung back and I saw a sword -
- not a holy blade, but adequate for the task at hand.
Gralz thrust down, driving the sword down into the
beast's head. More ichor poured out, burning me. The
thing twitched once, twice, then lay still.
Trus and Gralz pulled the steaming corpse off me, and
dragged me out, panting and retching. The acidic blood
had disintegrated most of my clothing, and was burning
away at my skin. Trus doused me with a bucket of water,
leaving me sitting, coughing, pink- fleshed and nearly
naked for the second time today.
"Gods!" Trus swore. "Gralz, get him some clothes. You
all right, Wulf?"
I looked up. "I don't understand," I said with as
jaunty a grin as I could muster. "You told me you just
sprayed for demons."
CHAPTER III
-----------
I at least had the presence of mind to slip Trus and
Gralz some coins and instruct them to spread a story of
how I'd been rent limb from limb before they could kill
the beasts. That at least might keep pustules like
Niall off my case for a while longer. My next move was
to go see the only person I could think of who might be
able to make sense of this mess.
Livia maintains a neat little manor near the east wall,
living a comparatively frugal life while she salts away
the fruits of her illegal labors and mercenary work.
She pays off the right guild officials and maintains
some very tricky magical wards to keep her safe from
unscrupulous individuals such as myself, and is
generally considered a pillar of the community in the
Thieves' Quarter. You know the type -- kind to animals,
generous with beggars, and always sees to it that the
attractive young men and women of the region have a
warm place to sleep at night. Or any time, for that
matter.
To give her credit, she showed more concern for my well
being than I thought she would. As I alternated between
recounting my tale of woe and taking huge mouthfuls of
food at her dinner table (I hadn't eaten all day), she
gazed at me with wide blue eyes and made sympathetic
noises at all the right moments. Gods only know why she
cared -- as a friend and lover I was no prize, and I
knew it.
"Gods," she muttered, picking up a silver knife,
inspecting it for a moment, then slamming it back down
on the table, clearly agitated. "What a day. Are you
all right, Wulf?"
I took a huge bite of bird (what sort of bird, I really
didn't care). "All things considered, I'm better than I
should be. Now that I've eaten, I'm even better."
"Damn that woman."
I stopped in mid-chew. "You mean Narisha?" I asked, my
mouth full.
She nodded. "I'm sorry I got you involved in all this?"
I swallowed, frowning. "Not to pry, love, but exactly
how did my name come up? I mean, were circumstances..."
"Intimate?" She nodded. "I'm afraid so. You still want
to hear about it?"
"It's never stopped you before. Give me the bad news."
***
Livia's recommendation of Wulf as a suitable agent for
the demoness Narisha's mission had actually been the
result of mixed feelings. On one hand, she wanted to
get him work. On the other, there had been times when
Livia had wished Wulf dead and burning in hell, which,
given Narisha's requirements, was not terribly
unlikely.
There was, of course, one other possibility, and that
revolved around the exact moment at which Livia had
given the recommendation.
Narisha, naked save for a pair of long, lace,
fingerless gloves, had at the time been crouched
between Livia's thighs, her tongue darting in and out
of the human woman as if it were a living thing
separate from its owner. Livia, her short blonde hair
plastered to her face with sweat and Narisha's own
juices, was lying back, fingering her own nipples as
the demoness pleasured her.
Having been brought to the brink at least two dozen
times, and pushed over a dozen more, Livia's mind had
pretty much wandered from mundane matters,
concentrating exclusively upon the demon-woman's
tongue, hands, thighs and breasts. As yet another
shattering climax rolled from her sore but still quite
functional sex (these demons seemed to have an aura
about them, Livia thought, that both enhanced and
prolonged arousal -- she would have to study it later),
the sorceress was therefore taken off guard by
Narisha's next actions.
The demoness' prominent lips embraced Livia's own,
lower set, and her tongue darted inside, as persistent
as a man's organ, but smaller and far more flexible.
She felt ripples spread through her body once more and
almost cried out, begging Narisha to stop. This she did
not do, since such an entreaty would only spur the
crimson-skinned creature on. And so, Livia hung
suspended between desire and satiation, letting Narisha
continue her gentle yet persistent exploration.
Then, she said it.
"Darling," Narisha spoke, raising her head from her
labors, her skin moist with Livia's juices, her hair
slick with sweat. "I have a job that needs doing. Can
you recommend anyone?"
Ripples still raced back and forth through Livia's
body, lacing it with hot and cold flashes, and she
barely had time to think on the question. It just so
happened that at that moment Livia's mind went back to
a day nearly two years ago when she had crouched on
hands and knees beneath a cascading waterfall, feeling
the icy water sheet down upon her as a man thrust into
her from behind. She could barely feel his hands
spreading her buttocks apart for the numbing pound of
the water, and barely hear for the roar. The only
sensation she could feel was the hot hardness of the
man as he thrust in, withdrew, and thrust again,
alternating hot and cold deep inside her. And the
man...
"Wulf," she gasped, grabbing Narisha's head and
thrusting it down between her thighs again. "Oh, Wulf."
Narisha's tongue did its work, while her sharp-nailed
fingers crawled up Livia's sides to stroke and tease
her erect, pink nipples. Livia rolled pliantly over the
brink once, twice, thrice more before she finally fell
back, gasping for breath, feeling secondary shocks
tremble through her loins.
Narisha raised herself up on an elbow, none the worse
for her exertions. "You will have to repay this favor
soon, you know," she said in her lyrical if slightly
horrific voice. "All my little pupils must show their
appreciation to their teacher."
"Oh, I'll show it, never fear," Livia grinned. "I'll
have you begging for mercy once I've recovered
somewhat."
The demoness toyed with Livia's nipple. "You should
decorate these," she suggested idly, indicating the
gleaming gem which hung from her own breast. "The pain
is exquisite, and once the wound heals, the pleasure of
having them touched is redoubled."
"It's very pretty," Livia said.
"So who is this Wulf?" Narisha asked. "What sort of
work is he good for?"
Livia had to stop short for a moment to even recall
what Narisha was talking about. Damn these demons, she
thought. Hot and wet one moment, and all business the
next.
"Not all business, sweetest little peach," Narisha
smiled, stretching like a cat. "But I do have a bit of
business which needs doing."
"You know, most people do not take kindly to having
their minds read," Livia said with all the gravity she
could muster.
"I know. Do I care? And besides, what harm is there in
reading your mind, filled as it is with love and
devotion to your sweet lover, Narisha?"
"Love and devotion..." Livia snorted. "Lust and envy,
more like. In any event, Wulf is a friend of mine. He's
got a wide variety of skills..."
"So I saw. I've never made love under a waterfall
myself. Would you like to try it some time?"
"There you go again... It can be very annoying, you
know."
Narisha shrugged. "I was along for the ride. I felt
that hard stallion of his as well. Are you too
sensitive to share your memories?"
"No, not really. Anyway, Wulf's a jack of all trades.
He has skills far in excess of his years and he can be
a complete son of a bitch sometimes. He's been in love
with me ever since Kenth."
"And how do you feel about him?"
"Ah, so you can't read everything. That's encouraging.
The truth, Narisha, is that I am enormously fond of
Wulf, but I respect him too much to get involved. I
don't want to ruin our friendship."
"And I know you, my dearest little kitten." Narisha's
eyes glinted lustfully. "You only make love to those
you know you can easily get rid of. The soul exception,
of course, being my good self."
Livia glared. "Wulf is my friend. I don't want to mess
up his life further by fucking him."
A chuckle. "All the same, he was a fine gallop, right?"
Livia sighed, rolling her eyes. "Yes, he was. But I
often wonder whether he's worth the trouble."
"Am I worth the trouble, my little pet?" Narisha said,
rolling onto her back. She raised her knees up into the
air and spread them apart, her black-tipped hands
reaching down to stroke between them. "Frankly, I don't
care whether you think I am or not, because I'm going
to feel your tongue here in a moment regardless. Aren't
I, darling?"
"Aren't I, darling?" Livia made a face. "Why do I love
you so much, tell me please?"
"Because you can't live without the thought of being
able to nuzzle my beautiful breasts and suckle at my
nipples like the child you are," Narisha replied.
"Because you dream of my thighs and what lies between
them every night. Because you love the taste of my
juices and the feel of my tongue. Because I'm the only
woman you'll ever really love. Am I right?"
"Hmph. You're not even a woman, really."
"Oh, but I am. More of a woman than any mortal can
imagine."
She reached out and drew a nail across Livia's nipple,
leaving a tiny bead of blood. "Now come and taste me,
my sweet, or I'll have you punished."
"Promise?" Livia asked, sarcastically. All the same,
her pulse raced as she positioned herself between
Narisha's thighs and gently stroked at her distended,
slick black lips, and she had to admit that at least
some of what the demoness said was true. Love, faugh...
But was it love she felt, or something else?
"I think I'll get in touch with this Wulf, then,"
Narisha said. Then she sighed. "Enough business. Come,
young lover. Worship at the gates of my temple..."
Livia's tongue and fingers explored the moist interior
of Narisha's cunt, tentative at first, but then with
increasing force and authority. Soon, her face was
slick and burning slightly from the rich juices which
flowed there in abundance.
CHAPTER IV
----------
It was not at all unpleasant. In fact, the demonic
juices were somewhat intoxicating, sliding effortlessly
past Livia's tongue, and down her throat to burn like
fine liquor deep inside her. A mad sense of abandon
seized Livia, and she spread Narisha's black cunt-lips
apart, allowing the juices to flow down the demoness'
crimson thighs. She cupped her hands beneath them,
feeling the hot liquid dripping down, then slathered it
over her arms, shoulders and breasts. It burned so, but
brought such pleasure as well, tingling through her
nipples, warming her skin, racing through her veins.
"I love you," Livia whispered, thrusting her face once
more between Narisha's muscular thighs, feeling the
soft cunt-flesh against her mouth, drinking in the hot
juices, licking and licking. "I love you so."
"Of course you do," Narisha purred, her voice rising to
a fevered, husky pitch. Her fingers toyed with the
jeweled ring at her nipple, pulling hard, digging
deeply into the soft flesh of her own breasts. "Drink
deep from me. Taste me, my love."
It was as if Narisha had control even of the flow of
her own secretions, for a new flood of cunt-juice
washed over Livia, more than she could have imagined
possible; certainly more than possible for an ordinary
mortal woman. Livia drank, but more flowed than she
could take, and it dripped down her shoulders and back,
soaking the coverlet beneath them. It was hot and
sweet, and grew more so with each passing moment.
Narisha sighed and moaned. It seemed that the demon-
woman was at last losing control herself. "You love me.
You serve me. You're mine, aren't you?"
"Yes!" Livia's voice rose to a strangled moan, muffled
against Narisha's soft, red-black lips. "I belong to
you... Only you..."
Narisha splayed her thighs wider still, and Livia's
questing tongue thrust deeper. She was drunk on this
woman, she realized, and saying things which normally
came very hard for her. Yet now, as Narisha's innermost
depths opened up before her, her tongue clove dark,
burning flesh, and the hot juices fermented inside her,
a part of Livia really did love the beautiful demoness,
if only for the moment.
It did not occur to her that some moments last longer
than others.
Wulf:
I groaned. "You told her about the waterfall?"
"Told her, hell. She saw it. Lived it. You know what
she's capable of."
Indeed I did. I still had one question. "You really
love her?" Once more, I knew the answer, and was doing
nothing more than tormenting myself. Of course, she
loved Narisha. And of course, she'd never love me.
I guess the tone of my voice was a bit overly petulant.
Livia did not respond well in any event. She stood up
and approached me, eyes wild.
"I said I did, didn't I? Is there something wrong with
that? Because she's a woman? Because you couldn't love
anyone or anything to save your own life, you arrogant
little cutpurse?"
My jaw dropped. I stammered. "I... I didn't mean... I'm
sorry..." Livia was about the only friend I could count
on right now, and I wasn't about to alienate her. "I
only meant..."
With amazing swiftness, the fire went out, and Livia
drooped like a rag doll. What the hell?
"Damn," she muttered, to herself more than to me. "Damn
it to hell..."
"What's wrong?" Now it was my turn to be worried. I
knelt and cradled her head in my hands. I wanted to say
no, no, I love you. I love you more than anyone else in
the entire fucking, shattered world, but I couldn't. I
knew it would only make matters worse. Hell, maybe I'm
a kinder person than I like to admit. Nah... not
possible...
I helped her back to her seat, and she looked at me,
her eyes wide again, this time with something that
looked like fear.
"It's not right," she said. "It feels all wrong. She's
done something to me, Wulf. Made me feel things that I
don't want to feel. Gods. Has she done it to you, too?"
With a chill I realized that she probably had. My
feelings for Narisha were remarkably strong for someone
I'd only spent a single evening with, but I finally had
to admit that buried deep in my heart there was a
hollow, aching longing for the demon woman. Damn.
Suddenly, Livia closed her eyes and exhaled, as if
finally discovering the answer to a childishly simple
question.
"Of course," she muttered. "I'm an idiot."
"Well if you are, I'm a bigger one," I said as
solicitously as I could. "I have no idea what you're
talking about."
"I'm talking about body fluids, Wulf," she said. It
would have sounded ridiculous if she hadn't been so
deadly serious. "Blood, sweat, saliva... other
things..."
"Yeah, yeah," I said quickly, thinking back to the
previous night. "You don't have to draw me any
pictures."
"They're major components in sympathetic magic, aren't
they?"
I nodded, still thick-skulled enough not to know where
she was going with all this.
"Exactly what have we both shared with that red-skinned
bitch?"
Realization dawned with all the force of an ogre's
club. "You mean we're ensorcelled?"
"Mm. Maybe more than that. Demon magic is different
from ours, but it still uses most of the same elements.
I would imagine that demonic bodily fluids have a hell
of a lot more potency than ours, and if we've managed
to mix them..."
"She might have a hell of a hold over both of us?"
"She might. And the worst part of it is that I don't
mind so much."
I didn't either. Intellectually, I knew that it was all
part of the spell. If I was magically compelled to love
someone, then naturally I wouldn't see anything wrong
with being magically compelled to love someone. The
image of the demoness appeared in my mind, naked red
flesh flickering with blue, fanged teeth bared in a
sensuous grin. I felt my heart begin to beat faster...
QUIT IT!
I pulled myself back down to earth. My rational corner
was still there, heavily besieged by external enemies,
but functional nonetheless.
"So," I said quietly, "exactly what do you think she
did to us?"
Livia started to reply, but a voice both beloved and
hateful interrupted her.
"Nothing you didn't want, I assure you."
I looked up. She was there, of course, as tall and
statuesque as ever. She was dressed more simply
(obviously not out to make an impression this time,
damn her eyes) in a long red satin robe, embroidered
with silver, blue and gold dragons and birds. Her face
was as radiantly wicked as ever, her pouty, blue-black
lips curled back in what could only be described as an
impish grin.
"Where the hell did you come from?" I asked, anger and
desire fighting each other to a standstill. Beside me,
Livia made incoherent noises, probably wondering how
Narisha had managed to blithely walk through all her
pattern-wards.
Someone once said that all demon laughter is mocking
laughter.
Narisha's response to this certainly qualified.
"I come and go as I choose. You should both know that."
She swayed across the room like a large, long-haired
cat and sat backwards in one of Livia's chairs, leaning
forward against the backrest, her long legs splayed out
on either side. Blue shapes crawled and flickered along
her thighs. Dammit, I couldn't tell if she was wearing
anything under her blasted robe.
"What do you think?" she asked, and snickered.
"If you can read our minds then what the hell is the
point of talking?" I asked, disgusted. "Now,
sweetheart, I think it's time you provided us with a
few answers."
"Answers to what, my darling swordsman?" she leaned
back, holding the chair back with her hands.
"Who set the hunting beasts on me, for one."
She snapped forward, all seriousness now. Her coy,
teasing manner vanished in an instant. "What hunting
beasts?"
"The two drooling mutants who tried to turn me into
sausages this morning at the Red Shark. If I didn't
have my holy knife I would be residing in a demon
gullet at this very moment."
A moment of silence. Her intense, yellow eyes drilled
into me, and I felt her enter my mind and absorb my
memories of the incident.
"Damn." She muttered. She actually looked distraught.
"Hm," I said. "Two incidents of a demon showing real
emotion in less than a day. Will wonders never cease?"
"It's not funny," she shot back. "Duke Janus knows I'm
here. His spies must have told him that I talked to
you. Damn."
"Well if nothing else, Duke Janus is short a pair of
hunting beasts," I said, "and my friends at the Shark
are spreading stories of my lurid death."
Narisha smiled. It was a surprisingly friendly smile.
"Good work, Freelance. Did anyone see you come here?"
"Not as far as I know. To the great city of Stoneburg,
Wulf the Freelance is now history."
"Pity." Some of the old insouciance returned. "I was
growing fond of him."
Livia piped up. "Well, if Janus is thrown off the trail
for the moment, maybe you could clue us in to exactly
what kind of trebly-damned enchantment you've cast on
us?"
Now my demoness was really back in form. She smiled
sweetly. "You pretty much pegged it with your first
guess, my pretty little kitten. I've found that I get
much better service out of those who adore me." Another
giggle and toss of her head, and the transformation was
complete.
I was not thrilled by her revelation. "I should be
thoroughly pissed by this time," I said, "but I'm not
because you've ensorcelled me." I took a deep breath.
"And that REALLY pisses me off!"
Livia seemed to be experiencing the same conflict of
emotion that I was. She spoke angrily, but I could tell
the were hurt feelings underlying.
"How could you do this to me, Narisha?" she demanded.
"Did it every occur to you that I might have fallen in
love with you without being compelled to?"
A wry chuckle. "Consider the source," Narisha replied.
"Only People consider love to be a transient emotion at
best. At worst, it's an emotion you can manipulate and
use to get what you want."
"Isn't that exactly what you're doing to us?" Livia
asked.
To my astonishment, Narisha's expression softened again
and she spoke in earnest tones. "I've never been like
that, Livia. I'm what you call a demon, and my emotions
are different from yours." Pause. Almost as if tears
were fighting their way up. "But I can still feel
emotions like yours. They never seem as transitory as
they do for other demons. I do feel something for you,
Livia. I suppose I used binding magic because I wanted
you to feel the same."
I rolled my eyes. "Would you two like me to leave?" I
asked. "Remember, I'm the guy with the claw-marks all
over him. I'm ashamed to admit to some affection for
both of you. Do I enter into this equation, or am I
just a handy poke?"
They both looked at me -- Livia with sympathy, Narisha
with amusement.
Smoothly, in a single, graceful motion, Narisha stood
up. "I reset your wards, Livia," she said. "And I threw
a few of my own. I paid particular attention to anti-
demon spells."
"You'll have to teach me one sometime," Livia
suggested. All business sometimes, that woman...
"Not to worry. Just don't use it against me." Narisha's
yellow eyes narrowed. "I wanted to make sure we weren't
disturbed."
That aura of hers (I can't think of anything better to
call it) seemed to expand somewhat, and I felt a sudden
urgent pressure somewhere below my beltline. Oh, hell.
Livia felt it too. I saw her uncross her legs rather
too slowly, then swallow hard.
Narisha smiled what was by far the wickedest smile I'd
seen from her yet.
"Watch me, Wulf," she purred. "Watch me and see if you
can contain yourself."
Gracefully, like a Red Temple nautch dancer, she tugged
at the belt of her robe, and it slid smoothly open,
revealing what seemed like acres of supple, red flesh.
She shrugged it off, and it slid to the floor, and
Narisha was standing before us, naked and proud,
abstract blue images flickering up and down her body.
I glanced at Livia. She was staring, mouth open, her
expression that of a starving prisoner presented with a
freshly roasted boar. Hell, I probably looked the same
way.
Narisha spoke. "Livia. Come here." It was the voice of
authority. Although she did not speak to me, I almost
obeyed nonetheless.
Livia certainly snapped to, standing up and approaching
our mutual crimson-skinned mistress. As she did so, she
stepped out of her shift, leaving herself dressed only
in a short undertunic, which left off about mid-waist.
I watched, slack-jawed, almost physically unable to
move without Narisha's say-so.
Gods, but Livia is an attractive woman. Even half-
dressed she's finer than a dozen lesser woman fully
nude. Her hips are substantial, but not overly so,
curving gently from a slightly rounded stomach, leading
into a pair of muscular legs. If I hadn't been
thoroughly aroused by this time, I would have been when
Livia silently kneeled down at Narisha's feet and
reached out her hands to stroke the demon-woman's
sides.
"What a good girl you are," Narisha whispered. "Now,
show him how much you love me."
Narisha's skin was warm beneath Livia's hands -- warmer
than human skin. The flickering tattoos twitched across
the demoness' thighs as Livia moved close, sliding her
hands around to cup Narisha's buttocks.
"See her, swordsman?" The warm purr of Narisha's voice
slipped through the air like falling rose petals. "See
how she adores me?" She looked straight at Wulf. "I
think she loves you, too, Wulf, though she'd never
admit it. Perverted little minx, she only makes love to
those she holds in contempt. I've told her that opening
that sweet pink box of hers to those she truly loves
and desires might make her a happier woman, but does
she listen to me? Disobedient little whore... mmmm...
Lick me, little whore..."
Inside Livia, anger at Narisha's words fought with
love, was defeated, and finally swept away by sheer,
heart-pounding desire. Livia's tongue sought out the
softness of Narisha's belly, then quested lower,
grazing the tops of her thighs, and finally the silky
hair between them. Heat seemed to roll off the
demoness' sex as if it was a furnace, but she resisted
the urge to bury her face in it, instead grazing it
lightly with tongue and lips, reveling in the shudders
of anticipatory pleasure which shook Narisha's body.
"She's a cunning little one," Narisha whispered, the
hissing sound filling the silent room. "She likes to
make her lover wait... ah... the agony of pleasure
delayed, my little love..."
Livia ran her hands up and down the demoness' thighs,
scoring the red flesh lightly with her nails. She
glanced up to see Narisha's face contorted as if in
deep concentration, her black- taloned hands massaging
the overflowing mounds of her own breasts, tugging at
the gold ring that pierced one nipple.
"Ah... I can't wait..." Narisha's voice was cut with an
edge of what might almost be called agony. "Love me,
Livia... Worship me..."
A strange sensation filled Livia, as it so often did at
moments such as these. It was as if she, a mere human,
held an unearthly being -- a demoness -- in thrall,
balancing on the edge of ecstasy, forcing her to beg
and plead for pleasure. It was not a moment to be
wasted, Livia knew.
"On the couch, demon," she whispered. "Sit there and
wait for me."
Amazingly, Narisha obeyed, stepping backwards with
feverish haste and sitting down on Livia's leather
sofa, leaning back luxuriantly, her eyes feral and
narrow, her black lips slightly parted, large breasts
rising and falling, the gem at her nipple glittering in
the light as they moved. Slowly she opened her legs,
hands planted upon her thighs, exposing the blue-black
of her cunt lips.
"Please put your lips there, little kitten..." Narisha
pleaded now, in near-human tones. "Show me your
love..."
Again, Livia kneeled, and began to stroke at the
crimson skin of Narisha's thighs. Her tongue flicked
out, stroking the now-wet softness of the demoness'
sex.
"You want it now?" she asked, softly.
"Yes..." Narisha moaned. "Please."
"How much do you want it?"
"More than..." Narisha's words faded into an incoherent
groan.
She writhed on the couch like a sinner in torment. Her
hands moved frantically along her thighs, as if urging
Livia to devour her, and end her agonized anticipation.
"More than what?" Livia asked. She kissed the moist
black lips lightly, just enough that her lover could
feel it.
"More than..." Rather than give a coherent reply,
Narisha simply placed her hands behind Livia's head and
thrust her sex against the blonde woman's face.
"Show me. Love me, little kitten. Love me." Demonic joy
laced the words, joy and fulfillment.
"I'm your kitten now?" Livia whispered. "Aren't I still
your whore?"
"Mmmm. Yes, dearest. You're my favorite little whore.
You're my sweetest little kitten. You're whatever I
want you to be."
Caged by the hot smoothness of Narisha's thighs, Livia
at last allowed her tongue to slip between the swollen
black lips, cleaving to the hot sweetness inside.
Again, the demonic juices filled her mouth, filling her
with a terrible intoxication. Like a long-denied
drunkard with a bottle of liquor, she drank deeply.
"Drink from me, little one..." Urged Narisha. "Take all
you want from me..."
Livia obeyed, tongue working at the slick prominence of
Narisha's clitoris, feeling her lover's cunt-juices
flow into her mouth, down her chin, across her
shoulders, soaking her shift.
"Say you love me." It was both a command and a plea.
"Say you love me now."
"I love you," Livia murmured, mouth against soft,
secret flesh. She felt light-headed and disoriented,
but the truth of her emotion was like a shining beacon.
As she continued to lick and bite at the tender skin,
her thoughts took wing and flew rapidly with heart-felt
intensity.
Did she speak, or did the words flow freely from heart
to mind? Whatever it was, she knew Narisha could hear
them, and the demoness' pleasure was redoubled. I love
you. I want to belong to you. I want to dance naked
with you under the moon. I want to suckle at your
breasts like a child. I want to embrace you in the
waves of a warm ocean. I want to lie with you in the
rain and watch it moisten your skin. I want to taste
your sweetness beneath the boughs of a dark forest. I
want to hold your body against mine on a wind-swept
mountain top. I want to feel your tongue inside me as I
lie under the desert sun. I want to kneel at your feet
and wear your collar and be your slave. I want to rule
over you and make you obey. I want you to call me
filthy names. I want to scream at you and make you feel
my rage. I want to worship you, make you my goddess. I
want you to worship me.
"I love you," she repeated, out loud this time. Narisha
stiffened, moaning deeply, and Livia felt contractions
raced through her body. The blue tattoos flickered in
time with her as waves of orgasm wracked her.
"Oh, dearest..." Narisha's climax lasted for a full
minute, then another. Her back arched, her belly
straining upward, her breasts straining, hands curled
into claws.
"Dearest... Livia... Oh, fuck... Oh, fuck... Oh, my
darling. Oh, my filthy little slut. Oh, my angel..."
Her words were choked, forced from a constricted
throat, finally merging into incoherent animal sounds,
until at last she lay limp, sweat glistening on her
breasts and belly as they rose and fell.
"My love," she sighed, stroking Livia's face with a
long- nailed hand. "My best beloved. You move me like
no one else."
"Mpph," came a muffled grunt from Wulf. Livia turned,
ashamed that she had forgotten him.
The mercenary looked somewhat nonplused at Narisha's
comment. He also looked extremely uncomfortable.
"You aren't finished yet, my dearest little pet."
Narisha lazed back on the couch and languidly motioned
Livia to rise. "Show him, too. Show him what you showed
me."
CHAPTER V
---------
To say I was aroused would have been like calling the
Third Siege of Xath a minor disagreement. As before
with Narisha (damnably predictable, that woman), my
breeches had grown incredibly tight, and I had an
erection you could attach a pulley to and lift an
obelisk with. I was still mildly annoyed that much of
my mixed love and desire for both the women so amply
displayed before me was a result of magical
intervention, but took comfort in the fact that any man
not exclusively attracted to his own gender would be as
uncomfortable now as I was.
Livia's declarations of love for Narisha still echoed
in my ears. The analytical corner of my mind wondered,
even as the object of my speculation swayed gracefully
toward me, slipping off her soaked shift, whether Livia
really meant it or whether these words were also the
result of ensorcelment.
Clothed, Livia could corrupt even the most dedicated
Idrianic Cenobite. Naked, she was nothing short of
divine. Or -- if the sensual Narisha, now reclining
like a vast, shapely mountain range on Livia's couch,
could be discounted -- diabolical. Smooth, white
shoulders and slender arms; breasts pleasantly large
and shapely, but not excessively so; and a belly and
legs which have already been adequately described.
Even considering this preternaturally exquisite body,
Livia's face is really her best asset -- softly curved,
pale-skinned, with a delicately upturned nose and a
light spatter of freckles. Her eyes were a transparent
blue, and as she licked her full lips, I saw a pearly
flash of teeth. I suppressed an anticipatory shudder. I
had dreamed of this moment for endless seasons, finally
convincing myself that it would never happen. Now, here
it was, offered up to me like a holy sacrifice in
temple.
"Take the pleasure she gives you, swordsman," Narisha
said, with husky excitement. "It's our gift to you."
Livia's lips caressed my cock, and her tongue moved to
lick it up and down. From the couch, Narisha watched,
eyes rapt, her breaths growing quicker. She tugged at
her nipple ring, and her long, flexible tongue flicked
out to moisten her lips.
"Tell him you love him," Narisha ordered. "Like you
told me."
Livia kissed my cock once more, then looked up at me,
blue eyes wide and sincere. When the words came, they
were at once painful and exquisite. Joy and sorrow
combined in me as Livia spoke.
"I love you," she whispered. Her words were stark with
clarity, and I knew that she meant them. "I love you,
Wulf. I love you both."
"Oh, gods, Livia," I whispered. "I've always loved
you."
On the couch, Narisha tossed her head back and groaned
briefly. It was as if the emotions of others were as
intense as their caresses for her. A tiny spark raced
through my mind, and I felt a small portion of the
demoness' climax. Gods, what had she done?
"I've made us all one, Wulf-cub," Narisha said, softly,
as Livia's lips again encircled my shaft, sliding it
inside her beautiful mouth, filling me with renewed
sensation. "We're joined, now. Joined in love and
pleasure."
Livia enveloped me again, and I realized that I still
didn't mind what Narisha had said. If I was joined with
these two, so be it. I could think of worse fates.
"Ride him now," Narisha said. She was sitting up now,
watching us with (if possible) even greater
fascination. "Ride his stallion." There was that damned
overblown metaphorical sense of hers again...
I reclined on the floor, a thick rug insulating me from
the cold marble. Livia crouched above me, slipping my
organ between her legs, stroking it against her sex.
Dammit, it really did seem to buck and caper like a
wild stallion. At least, so I thought at the time.
"Put it in," I said, feeling the same intense desire as
Narisha had. "Please, let me feel you all around me."
Livia smiled, opened her mouth wide, pink tongue
touching ivory teeth, and slid down my shaft, my cock
penetrating her wet cunt, deeper and deeper... Her soft
cunt-flesh surrounded me, pulling me in, and then she
rose up on her knees again, slipping me out, then down.
Again and again... Gods... For the second time in as
many days, I felt transported to paradise.
Then, black-tipped red hands slid to surround Livia's
pale white breasts, and Narisha appeared behind her.
"You make my lover happy," Narisha said. "Can you make
us both happy?"
Two faces, one pale and angelic, the other devilish and
crimson, gazed at me as Narisha kneeled behind Livia
and matched her movements, as if they were both the
same being. Her hot demon- flesh was smooth against my
sides, complimenting and contrasting Livia's pale skin.
They moved up and down together, my cock straining
inside Livia, her pleasure translated directly into
Narisha's brain. Their expressions melted into open-
lipped looks of intense pleasure.
"Now me," Narisha gasped. "Put your shaft inside me."
As one, they moved forward, and without a break, my
cock moved between Narisha's thighs and inside her
inhumanly hot and moist cunt.
I'd never have been able to accomplish such acrobatics
if I'd practiced for a month, and now I was performing
like a Xeshite pleasure slave. Gods... Livia.
It was an indescribably sensation Livia had felt, the
hardness of Wulf's cock inside her, and the hot supple
flesh of Narisha behind, hands stroking as the
demoness' vast breasts pillowed against her back. The
tiny ring and gem in Narisha's nipple bit against
Livia's tender flesh, further enhancing sensation.
Then they moved, and Wulf was inside Narisha. She felt
no jealousy that the hot shaft had moved away from her,
only joy that she and Narisha could share this man,
whom she finally realized she loved. Narisha's moans
joined Wulf's in a chorus of sensual agony.
"I love you," Livia whispered, to both of them. "I love
you."
I didn't know where all the energy came from. It was
probably more of Narisha's sex magic, but I can't be
certain. The upshot was that all three of us ended up
in Livia's bedroom, sprawled in curious conjoinment on
a bed large enough to comprise a small country estate
(upon which, might I add, many a young male student or
knockabout had learned the true meaning of the word
"ecstasy" only to be tossed out on his ear the next
morning).
Livia lay near the head of the bed, her legs drawn up
and splayed, stroking Narisha's head as the demon
woman's tongue delved up and down her thighs and
flicked in and out of her exposed cunt. As for myself,
I was on my knees behind Narisha, entering the demoness
from behind, gripping her soft, shapely buttocks and
watching the blue patterns flicker and change as my
cock slid in, then emerged, slick and tingling with her
inner sweetness.
Everyone seemed extremely happy.
Sensation spread from my Narisha's center to my
shaft... That burning, tingling feeling which I had
felt when I tasted her rolled through me now, entering
the taunt flesh of my organ and extending out through
my body. It was as if every sense was sharpened,
heightened to an unnatural degree. Every sight and
sound was magnified, every touch and scent redoubled.
For a few moments, I perceived the world as a demon
did.
I felt that I could thrust in and out of Narisha's
moistness indefinitely... I never wanted to stop, but
only to remain this way, suspended on the edge for all
time, forever joined to my two lovers, forever both
master and slave. Again and again my cock slid into the
demoness' beautiful cunt, gaining energy and desire
with each stroke in an ever-growing cycle of fleshy
pleasure.
CHAPTER VI
----------
Livia:
The demon-woman's tongue moved freely through Livia,
seeming to reach beyond the mere physical reaches of
her cunt, and slip like a thin, vastly long snake deep
inside her to touch her heart, her mind, and -- if
there was such a thing -- her soul. A thin wailing
slipped from her throat, growing louder, involuntarily
rising to a heady cry of increasing desire.
Narisha's hands encircled her buttocks, pulling Livia's
hot moistness closer, thrusting the endless tongue
deeper and deeper. Livia laced her fingers behind the
luxuriant black hair, thrusting with increasing
urgency. How the demoness could breath, Livia did not
know, but it didn't seem to matter.
Behind Narisha, Wulf stroked her with his cock,
thrusting between the firm red expanse of her buttocks,
entering her again and again, seemingly tirelessly.
Livia had experienced it before... it was Narisha's
doing, and afterwards she knew that they would all
sleep for a day or more.
Narisha's tongue seemed to coil and writhe inside her,
touching her more deeply than Livia had ever thought
possible. Heat and desire swelled in her loins, her
belly, her chest, growing hotter and hotter until she
couldn't contain it. Orgasm rose slowly like a silvery
bubble through a tropical ocean, gaining strength and
intensity as it did so. She knew it was coming, she
could feel it, but it still shimmered and glistened in
the distance, growing closer by the second.
Wulf:
Narisha absorbed me, and, as if echoing the sentiment
of her words, I felt that we were one. All three of us
had joined to become a single entity, dedicated only to
pleasure. Emotions roiled inside me, ones which I had
only recently denied even existed.
"Narisha," I gasped, only barely able to form words as
I pushed inside her again. "Narisha, I love you."
Then, I think the most astonishing event of the past
days occurred. Narisha continued to lavish attention
upon Livia, but she replied with the same intense
sincerity I had heard from the blonde sorceress.
"I love you, Wulf," she said. Gods, I thought, there's
a lot of love in this room right now. "I love you
both."
That was enough for me. Words are the greatest
aphrodisiac, and these seemed to push both Livia and me
over the cliff we'd spent all afternoon climbing. Her
cries rose to a wordless wail in which every desire
seemed embodied. She tensed, released, tensed again,
and I could see uncontrolled orgasm crashing endlessly
through her.
It was enough for me, too. I finally came, feeling the
hotness of my cock gushing into Narisha. I had been
loosed like an arrow, plunging on without regard for
myself or anything else. My seed flooded into the sweet
demon-cunt, mixing with her flowing juices, dripping
down the carven columns of her thighs...
I felt Narisha's climax as well, and her cries joined
those of me and Livia. All three of us seemed instantly
united in a single orgasm, which rocked through our
bodies, bounced back and returned again and again, like
a massive bolt of lightning over a storm-tossed sea.
Yes, we were one now, and I knew it was what I wanted.
We slept then, twined together like the branches of an
ancient oak, and dreamed of each other.
CHAPTER VII
-----------
We didn't stir until late afternoon of the following
day. My dreams wandered from Narisha to Livia and back
again, inspecting every inch of their bodies and minds,
running endlessly through lush fields of flesh, feeling
again and again the hot softness of their touch.
Once we had finally roused ourselves from that damned
bedstead (not that I wanted to leave, mind you), we ate
in Livia's dining room, served by a number of sprites
who seemed to serve our sorceress out of heartfelt
devotion, rather than magical compulsion. I ate (again)
ravenously, but Livia (damn her) seemed to have
retained the appetite of a bird. Narisha took her meat
rare, and ate noisily with her fingers. Well, I guess
they weren't ahead of us in all the social graces.
After that, we retired to Livia's sitting room, which
provided a lovely view of the Thieves' Quarter, with
the noble realms misty pink and green in the distance.
The glass was enchanted, of course, providing outside
viewers with a boring, empty, mundane room no matter
what orgiastic rites were actually going on inside. The
room was pleasantly paneled in red flamewood, lined
with leather-bound books, and furnished with deeply
upholstered chairs and a desk large enough to raise
cattle.
We'd all dressed properly at last, Livia in the pale
blue robes she favored, myself in clothes she'd
provided, and Narisha in one of her lace, leather and
chain mail numbers (gods only knew where she kept them
all). It was with physical effort that I pushed all
sensual considerations aside and concentrated on what
Narisha was saying.
"The crown is an important artifact," she said with
calm authority. "Among other things, it symbolizes my
family's primacy and our position as defenders against
the Outer Darks."
"Hey, wait a minute," I interrupted. "I've never heard
of that. What are the Outer Darks?"
Narisha looked thoughtful. "I suppose you could say
that they're the realms we were driven out of."
"You mean hell?"
She laughed, but there was little cruelty in the sound.
"No. You listen to your own legends too much. The Only
People are from another place, yes. But it's not a
fire-and-brimstone realm where sinners are punished.
Well, perhaps it is now. We haven't been back in quite
a time. In any event, our enemies still live there, and
it's important that we keep them there."
Now Livia spoke up. "That's your family's duty, then?"
"Among others. Also among other families'. It's a very
influential position. Unfortunately, you need the crown
to symbolize it. Duke Janus apparently feels that my
father's been falling down on the job, and has stolen
the crown. I'm sorry to say that it happened on my
watch, while my father was in the White Empire, so I'm
responsible for getting it back."
"Okay," I said. "Now we know what we're going after,
perhaps you could tell me how to get it."
"You're the freelance, you tell me."
I growled. "A little more information about Janus and
his palace would be in order, I think."
Narisha rummaged around behind the desk, and pulled out
a bundle of rolled parchments. She selected one and
unrolled it on the desktop, weighting it down with an
inkwell and paperweight (another Xeshite erotic, I
noticed).
The parchment was a nautical chart, scribed in bright
colors with fanciful notations in some angular script I
didn't recognize.
"This is one of our charts," she said. "It shows the
way to Arak Island and Hellgate keep."
My eyes widened. "There's not an admiral in the realms
who wouldn't trade a roomful of gold for this chart," I
said.
"Don't I know it. I'm lending it to you in the hope
that you won't betray my trust and sell it."
I rolled my eyes. "I'm unscrupulous, yes. But I don't
betray my friends."
"Or lovers?"
"Or lovers. Get on with it."
She then showed us, in quick succession, a number of
other diagrams, depicting the island itself (a tangled
jungle, apparently), the interior layout of Janus' Keep
(whose architecture would only be logical to another
demon), and finally, a crude rendition of a number of
secret escape tunnels which Janus had had constructed.
"Two of our best lost their lives making this diagram.
You can use the tunnels to get into the keep. After
that, it's up to you."
I raised my eyebrows. "You've got it pretty well
figured out, love. Why didn't you just send a regiment
or so of your own warriors?"
She shook her head emphatically. "The place is crawling
with anti-demon wards. Some of them would melt the
flesh of anyone from our household if he so much as
glanced at them. Janus doubled the guard after our
spies got this information."
"What assurances do you have that the layout hasn't
changed?" Livia asked. "The tunnels may be gone, they
may be rigged with traps, or they may be in another
location altogether."
"It's a risk," Narisha agreed. "The tunnels are sure to
be trapped, but it's unlikely they've changed the
layout. Janus wouldn't want to waste all that slave
labor."
"Slave labor?" I asked, alarmed.
"Human slave labor. Hundreds died making those
tunnels." Narisha looked away. "Please believe me when
I tell you that not all the Only People are like
Janus."
"I believe you," I said. "I've known dozens of humans
who can be as cruel as a demon."
Livia still seemed concerned about the practical. "Once
they're inside the palace, what then? A band of humans
will stick out like a whore at a Rexxaran feast."
"I'm counting on stealth," Narisha said. "But I brought
some items which might be useful."
More rummaging, and the demoness withdrew a number of
small, silver amulets. I looked at one. It was a
cunningly crafted image of a mouse.
"Stealth enhancement, I take it?" I asked, fascinated.
"More sympathetic magic?"
Narisha nodded. "It won't make you invisible or
anything so useful, but it will help keep you hidden,
especially from demons. They work better if you keep
still."
"Thanks." I'd used such things in the past, and knew
better than to depend on them, but they were a hell of
a lot better than nothing.
Then Narisha held up a brass amulet, which dangled from
a chain, dancing and sparkling in the light of the
setting sun.
"There's probably something guarding the crown," she
told me. "You'll have to deal with it alone, or else
this won't work. Hold the amulet up and say..." Her
lips, tongue and throat contorted in a string of words
in some obscure demon dialect. "Got that?"
I shook my head. "No, but we can go over it later. What
else have you got there?"
Narisha looked straight at me, yellow eyes locked with
mine, deadly serious. "I have one more present for you,
swordsman," she said. "I am taking a terrible risk in
giving it to you. I must have your assurance that you
will use it properly."
"I'll know better when I see what it is," I said, "but
I give you my assurance anyway."
Without another word, Narisha bent down, reaching
behind the desk again, and stood up holding a long,
narrow bundle covered in gray rags. She handled it
gingerly, and when she set it on the desk, atop the
unrolled charts, she seemed relieved to have it out of
her possession.
"Open it," she said.
Sensing the fatal seriousness of her words, I hastened
to comply, tugging at the leather thongs which bound
the package, and unwrapping the rags. When the contents
were revealed, I stepped back with an involuntary cry.
It was a sword. But no ordinary sword. It most closely
resembled a Litharnan two-hander, but seemed much
older. The pommel bore a large red gemstone, its grip
was wound with weathered black leather, its crossguards
in the form of intertwined dragon's heads. The blade
was the strangest of all, however. It was a glossy
black color, and bore gleaming silver runes. They were
very old, but I could read them.
"Pierce the demon heart," I read. "Strike in the name
of justice." I looked up at Narisha. "It's a holy
sword! I've never seen one so large."
She nodded, face shot through with apprehension. "Yes.
It was carried by the warrior Sir Goltha of Litharna,
over a thousand years ago."
"From the demon wars," Livia declared. "That must be
Lawgiver, the sword of justice. Everyone thought it was
destroyed when Goltha was killed."
"His ship was sunk and he drowned," Narisha said. "Our
swimmers brought it back, and we've kept it ever since.
We can't destroy it; it's magic is too powerful. But we
could keep it out of human hands -- prevent it from
ever being used against us."
My heart lurched. "You're giving it to me?"
"Loaning it, my beloved," she said. "But you must swear
never to use it against me or any member of my
household."
I've never put much stock in oaths, faith or religion.
But now I did, and I fortunately knew the right words
to say. I kneeled before the desk, bowed my head,
placed both hands on the great, black blade, and spoke
softly.
"By all the gods, by all my ancestors, and by all that
I hold sacred, I swear I will never use this blade
against you and your household, nor against any who
bear your arms, wear your colors, or swear fealty to
you. This I swear, from this day until the end of the
world, or until you release me from this oath. May my
soul lie in torment should I violate this oath, and may
my name be cursed to the seventh generation."
I raised my head. Narisha was staring at me in flat-out
disbelief. Black tears ran down her cheeks. Her dark
lips trembled.
"You do love me," she said.
I nodded. I had meant it, for once.
Evening lengthened shadows over the eternal city, from
the squalid huts of the Barrens to the jagged, evil
towers of the Forbidden Enclave and the graceful
curving structures of the Noble Quarter. I gazed out
the windows of Livia's sitting room, wondering if my
death lay out there, and if it was anywhere near as
savage as what these two women had put me through.
I picked at my food, my mind racing over plans for the
coming endeavor. Livia ate as delicately as ever, while
our demoness slavered and tore at her rare beast. I
could have sworn her fangs had grown longer, but I
couldn't be certain.
"I have the most delicious plans for after dinner,"
Narisha said, delicately wiping her blood-stained face
with a white napkin. "There's a Xeshite sex ritual
which requires three participants. First, one of the
women lies on her back with her legs."
"I hate to interrupt," I said, "and I hate the thought
that I'll be missing the evening orgy even more, but in
all honesty I'm going to have work to do tonight."
Livia nodded, "You need to get ready to go."
"I do. I also want to get my team together; I've got a
few people in mind, and the sooner I contact them, the
sooner I can leave. I don't want the news that I'm
really alive to spread too fast."
Narisha pouted prettily. "You make me sad, beloved."
"Sorry. Hold the thought, though. It'll keep me going
through the journey."
The demoness sighed, and her vast, soft bosom heaved
and quivered alluringly. "Well, at least my Livia will
be here."
"Yes," I agreed. "You two do as you please. Think of me
once in a while, though."
"Always," Livia said, and took a sip of wine, "Always."
They were already together on the bed when I left,
moving in a luscious tangle of red and white flesh. I
gritted my teeth, counted backwards from a hundred, and
walked out into the night, Lawgiver securely scabbarded
on my back.
CHAPTER VIII
------------
Stef is normally an extremely companionable fellow,
even of temperament and jolly of disposition. He is a
handsome, chisel- jawed man with deep blue eyes and
curly blonde hair. He is usually smiling and almost
never has a cross word for anyone. Unfortunately, these
delightful character traits vanished the minute he
caught sight of me.
"You!" he thundered, taking up a ceramic pot from a
nearby table and brandishing it threateningly. "I hate
you! Get the hell out!"
"Stef," I began in my most diplomatic tone, "I just
want to."
He let fly with the pot. It smashed against the lintel
over my head, showering me with water and broken
crockery.
"I warned you!" he continued, face contorted with a
strange mixture of anger and fear. "I told you to get
out and you didn't! If I killed you right now, no judge
in the city would convict me!"
I was getting a little tired of this. "Dammit, Stef," I
barked, "didn't know the dragon wasn't really dead! I
want to make it up to you!"
A silver tray splanged into the wall beside me.
"Make it up to me? You are a walking, talking omen of
pure catastrophe! Despair and failure follow in your
wake! What can you possibly do to make it up to me?"
"I've got a job."
A pair of candlesticks this time. I dodged, but one of
them caught me upside the head.
"Go to hell, Wulf! Every time you offer me a job,
disaster strikes within the hour! It took a month to
get my arms back after that last fiasco! Get the hell
out of my life! NOW!"
I stopped and glared at him. "Phaedra's flaming tits,
Stef, enough is enough!" I barked. "You throw one more
household object and me, so help me I will pull out
your pancreas and tie it around your neck! I've got a
job for you!"
By the grace of all the gods, Stef finally stopped
heaving things at me, and only stood, glowering and
panting.
"What limbs do you want me to sacrifice this time,
Wulf? I've got two legs left relatively unscathed."
I took a deep breath. Maybe we could talk now. "None if
we're lucky. How are the new arms working out, by the
way?"
His scowl deepened. "Considering the fact that one was
taken off a Skyrian wrestling eunuch and the other was
from some effeminate White Empire sorcerer, not badly.
They should be the same size in a year or so."
I mustered all the sympathy I could spare. "I'm sorry.
I really could have sworn that dragon was dead..."
"Never mind." He waved one beefy arm at me, then
gestured with the other (noticeably thinner, I could
see) to sit down. "I can see I won't get rid or you
until you give your pitch. So sit down and tell me so I
can tell you to go fuck a hunting beast."
"Thanks, I just did," I mumbled, sitting down.
"Huh?"
"Nothing. Anyway, here's the buzz."
CHAPTER IX
----------
I found Odo the dwarf, not surprisingly, sleeping off a
drunk.
Vurrg, innkeeper at the Goblin's Eye, had hung Odo from
one of the torch brackets in order to get him out of
the way while he dirtied up a little. I retrieved Odo
from this humiliating position and dragged him home. He
growled and mumbled a little, but did not wake,
preferring -- apparently to remain in his dream world
where he was ravishing some chesty human temptress
named Ula.
I'm surprised that the little runt doesn't constantly
have a swarm of flies around, given the fact that he
rarely bathes and never combs out his beard. Despite
his odious hygienic habits, however, Odo is the meanest
little son-of-a-bitch who ever swung a battleaxe, and
takes a perverse pleasure in killing such traditional
foes as elves, goblins, other dwarves and especially --
demons. I figured that we'd be well underway by the
time he recovered from his drunk, so there wouldn't be
much he could do to prevent being dragooned into our
little band.
***
The reams and reams of cheap fiction which the
Litharnan printing presses crank out each year seem
always to feature the same rag-tag band of adventurers
-- the beautiful sorceress, the brawny barbarian, the
crafty thief, the plucky dwarf, the mysterious elf, and
so on. As usual, reality doesn't jibe.
I was, at best, an imitation barbarian, our thief was
reluctant at best and had only just recovered from
having his arms pulled off by a sadistic dragon, the
dwarf was a drunk, and the elf was on the police force
trying to bust our ass. The beautiful sorceress seemed
content to stay at home and be repeatedly ravished by a
demoness, and our best warrior wasn't even brawny.
Not that she had to be. Xitaa (pronounced "Zee-tah")
was a priestess-sister from the Temple of Rexxara. For
those of you who don't know, Rexxara, the Mother of All
Battles, is a southern import who has managed to gather
a considerable following here in the heart of decadent
civilization. Dedicated only to the joy of righteous
battle, Rexxarans must, among other things, shave off
all their body hair (yes, ALL their body hair) save a
small scalplock or strip in the middle of the head,
practice a regimen of strenuous daily exercises,
contribute all battlefield booty to the temple, and
forsake all worldly pleasures. As might be expected,
this means no booze, no sex, and only the most simple,
nourishing food. (This, mind you, is just what I
believed to be true at the time; the facts of the
matter were considerably more interesting.)
All this meant that Xitaa was one of the best warriors
around, unlikely to be swayed by the pleasures of the
flesh, and possibly able to persuade Rexxara to grant
us a miracle or two if things looked really bleak. I
had met her on several occasions in the past, and she
had made it clear that she was available for any
righteous sword-cleaving which needed to be done. That
night, I contacted her at the Rexxaran monast, where
she and her fellow righteous warriors were preparing to
retire and dream of killing cringing orcs and savage
trolls.
Besides (and here we have Wulf being an obnoxious male
who thinks with his gonads again), she was damned easy
to look at. Clad in her traditional Rexxaran plate
armor (gleaming silver and brass), she cut a
magnificent figure. She was muscular and well-
proportioned, and kept her kinky black hair in the
single strip favored by most Rexxaran women, with a
single one of the goddess' runes tattooed on her bare
pate.
She had enough vanity to paint her well-shaped lips
blood red, and line her cool, almond-shaped eyes with
black kohl, with a single spiral painted at the outer
corner of each. Her eyes, which could drill you as
surely as a crossbow bolt, were vivid violet and rarely
if ever blinked. If I hadn't known that she was as
unreachable as Phaedra Herself, I'd have been lust-
smitten the moment I saw her. As it was, I ignored my
baser instincts and told myself that she was just a
fellow warrior.
"You say there is killing to be done?" she asked.
Delightful woman, really...
I nodded. "Probably a lot. Demons in particular. We're
heading for the heart of demon country and trying to
steal a valuable artifact. I suspect your sword will
get a lot of use."
She eyed me up and down, as if I was a horse she was
thinking of buying.
"Do you have the courage to stand beside one of the
Faithful?" she asked.
"If I do not, let me die honorably," I replied. I know
that Rexxarans dig that kind of talk.
She smiled. It was a grim smile. "We shall see how
worthy you are to bare your sword and be blessed by
Rexxara. How much will you donate to the temple for my
assistance?"
I named a figure. It was large, but only a portion of
what I would get for one of the ghost gems.
She bowed her shapely, smooth head. "It is good. May
the Mother of All Battles bless our endeavor."
I stood up. "I hope to leave at first light, if I can
secure a ship."
"Let it be done. Let many souls be shriven and face
Rexxara's mercy."
I repressed a shudder and left. Xitaa made me think of
a sleek, jungle cat -- all sensuous movement and
beauty, but with an underlying current of sheer,
unrestrained violence. I hoped that it would never be
directed at me.
CHAPTER X
---------
There still remained small matter of a ship. As the fog
rolled in, shrouding the moon Little Sister with a
silvery veil, I thought quickly of the captains I knew
who could be had at short notice.
I was still thinking when I arrived at the docks.
They're a forbidding place, even during the day. A vast
wilderness of dark warehouses, rotting piers, seedy
inns and mysterious vessels with cloaked lanterns and
unknown cargoes. The quiet sound of lapping waves and
creaking ropes constantly fills the air, along with the
scent of rotting fish and seaweed. Rumor has it that
the Cult of Slaerth controls much of the activity on
the docks, but no one has ever proved it.
Tonight, with the moon riding at full sail through an
unsettled sky, the docks were even less welcoming than
normal. A few cracks of smoky yellow light showed
through closed doors and shuttered windows, but for the
most part, the region was bathed in lambent silvery-
blue, and the shadows were deep indeed.
In my mind, the search had narrowed down to two
candidates. Captain Fish (it was a nickname, of course
-- I didn't remember his real name) had brought in his
sloop, Bluefin, two days ago, and was still in port for
lack of cargo. Unfortunately, he had let his entire
crew go, and it would take at least one more day to
attract another. Even then, the crewmen who could be
recruited on such short notice would not be ones I
would trust to sail us into the heart of the demon
isles. They would, however, be cheap.
Skate was a mercenary cutter, small and fast, with a
sharp crew and professional captain, one Kamaz, a
serious woman with gray-streaked hair who swings a mean
cutlass. The problem with Skate was that all this
professionalism didn't come cheap. With the amount
Kamaz charged, I could practically buy my own ship and
sail it north alone.
I walked along the misty docks, more or less lost in
thought. That was my mistake -- the docks are the last
place in the realms where one should wander, lost in
thought. Then again, after the last couple days'
events, including as they did bouts of mindless
violence interrupted by orgiastic debauchery, my
alertness wasn't what it should have been even in the
best of times.
In any event, I was taken by surprise. The hatefully
familiar silhouette which appeared from behind a pile
of crates caused me to jump a good foot, and stagger
backwards, only to find myself held by a pair of
powerful -- and equally familiar -- arms.
"Wulf!" Niall's contemptuous words lashed out like a
whip. "You bastard! I knew you weren't dead!"
He approached, moving out of the shadows and into the
full moonlight. "Two days on sewer patrol because of
you, you piece of troll vomit! I'm going to make you
sorry your father ever porked your mother!"
"Well, well, if it isn't the littlest elf," I grunted,
trying to remain flippant while my mind frantically
tried to come up with an escape plan and failed
miserably. "What's the matter, lose your pointy-toed
shoes?"
The ogre behind me tightened his grip. I suspected it
was Grud, since Skab was probably recuperating from his
wounds with the aid of a quart of Old Dragon's Breath.
A shudder passed through Niall, then the affected air
of a calm, detached city scrutator returned.
"Mind you, Wulf, I don't really care what you did at
Tev's. For all I know, a demon really did go down on
you in his solarium." He paused, and drew a deep
breath, idly scratching one of his pointy elf-ears.
"What really bothers me, Wulf..."
"Is the fact that you have no penis?" I asked. "That
would certainly bother me." Yes, it was crude and not
all that funny, but it was the best I could do at the
moment.
It didn't phase him. Gods, I was in trouble.
"No, Wulf," Niall continued. "I am not bothered by your
petty trivialities. What I am bothered by..."
Without a second thought, punched me in the stomach as
hard as he could. Pain and cold shock exploded through
me, and I tried to double over, but the ogre held on
tight.
"Heh, heh," said Grud. Damn, but ogres are easily
amused.
"...is your absolute contempt and lack of respect,"
Niall continued with a straight face, "for the law."
I looked up, mustering up what defiance I could. I
coughed heavily and said, "The law, Niall? What the
hell did you ever know about the law?"
Niall chuckled. "I've forgotten more about the law than
you'll ever know, you insignificant little footpad." He
moved close and shoved his face directly into mine.
"But that's not really the point is it? What's really
important is what the law represents. What it
accomplishes. Am I right?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about, scrutator."
Niall was apparently even crazier than I'd thought.
"You don't? Ha!" A single syllable of laughter exploded
from Niall's throat. "That's very funny. Isn't that
funny, Grud?"
"Duh, yah boss," Grud rumbled, clearly so far lost in
our conversation that he couldn't have found his way
home with a map.
"It doesn't surprise me that you don't know what I'm
talking about." Niall's voice was icy-cold and logical
now. I began to wonder whether my quest was about to
end before it started. "You may think that I've come a
long way from my ancestors, who lived in white towers
and fought noble wars and rode dragons. You may think
that I've turned my back on everything that an elf is,
and become just as grimy and unpleasant as you humans.
But you're wrong, Wulf. I remember. I remember that my
people wrote the first laws, and made the law what it
is today."
"You've lost it, Scrutator," I rasped. "Whatever you
might have had once upon a time, you've lost it
completely. Why don't you just admit that you've got a
height complex and let it go at that?"
It was as if I hadn't even spoken. "You see," Niall
continued, "the real point of the law is its end
result. The route it takes to that result is
irrelevant. That's what my ancestors believed, and it's
still true. Oh, I'm sure that there are those repulsive
little wizardly philosopher types who whine about how
the end never justifies the means, but what do they
know, really? They spend their lives cloistered away in
academies and towers and dusty libraries -- they have
no knowledge of what it's really like on the streets,
in the gutters, in the..." He drew a breath.
"...Sewers."
Niall turned and walked toward the gleaming water, but
his ratty little voice continued to echo across the
docks.
"No, the real point of the law, the real intent...
That's what was important to the old Dragon Kings, and
that's what is important to me. Through all the
voluminous, labyrinthine laws which are necessary to
run a cesspool like Stoneburg, through all of them
there is a common thread. And that, my friend..."
He whirled and advanced rapidly, shaking a finger at
me, until his face was once more inches from mine.
"...is to keep lowlife pieces of filth like you down on
your knees and out of the way of the important people!
Now you and your disgusting kind may scoff at us -- the
people in charge of enforcing the laws. But you scoff
simply because you fear the law, you hate the law. You
know in your heart and soul that the law was conceived
and designed specifically with you in mind. You and the
legions of scum and perverts you associate with."
Nearing the end of his rant, Niall relaxed,
contemplating my fate with near orgasmic satisfaction,
eyes closed, face beatific.
"But I shouldn't blame you for being what you are. You
are unavoidable, Wulf. You're an occupational hazard.
My only joy in life comes from making the laws work,
which is something I am about to do." Another deep
breath, slowly and luxuriantly exhaled. He smiled, a
razor thin little smile. "Grud, pull this bastard's
head off."
"Duh, yah boss," Grud replied, predictably.
Good-bye, Narisha, I thought to myself. Good-bye,
Livia. I really did love you...
Fortunately for me, my final declaration of love was
premature. Not only did Grud's grip not tighten, his
entire warty, stinking body began to relax and slide to
the ground. Again not questioning good fortune, I
dodged away, disentangling myself from the collapsing
ogre and tugging Lawgiver free from its scabbard.
I needn't have bothered. Grud's collapse did not stop
when his body reached the ground. The ugly beast
continued to collapse, deflating like a punctured
bladder, exuding a pool of disgusting, ogre-colored
slime. My ears tingled, feeling the faint crackle of
magical energy. Magical?
Livia stood nearby, a short rod clasped in her hand,
her grim gaze fixed directly on the disintegrating
ogre.
A shriek from Niall riveted my attention. I stared in
mixed horror and amazement.
Niall writhed and struggled in the grip of a horrific
creature. Outwardly humanoid, it was a muscular, clawed
thing with black-striped red fur. Its snarling,
tigerish head bristled with white, dagger-sharp teeth.
As I watched, the long black claws scored deep slashes
across Niall's belly, sending entrails gushing, while
its maw took a huge chunk out of his neck, chewed, and
swallowed a mass of torn flesh and jagged bone.
I shuddered. Not that I ever liked Niall, but no one
deserved that kind of death. I wasn't too terribly
alarmed -- I suspected the thing was one of Livia's
servitors and under her control.
"Are you all right?" she asked, looking me up and down.
I nodded. "Who's your friend?"
Livia looked uncomfortable. I followed her gaze to
where the thing was still rending Niall's remains,
which by now resembled the beef stew served every
Friday at the Goblin's Eye. As I watched, I let out an
involuntary cry of shock and horror.
It was Narisha.
She had returned to her voluptuous womanish shape, but
still retained her red and black stripes, and crouched
on hands and knees like an animal, ripping and tearing
at what was left of poor Niall and stuffing bloody
gobbets into her mouth. The fact that she was naked
only added to her animalistic appearance. She looked
somewhat like a Kaitian tiger-woman, but far more
heavy-bodied, muscular and savage.
Narisha saw that I had noticed, and stopped short,
sitting back, and leaning against a crate, panting.
Blood ran freely down her face, slightly darker than
her crimson flesh, soaking her shoulders and dripping
from the heavy curves of her breasts. The jewel at her
nipple glittered faintly. Slowly, the stripes faded,
and in a moment she was her old self.
"W-Wulf," she said, weakly. "I'm sorry you had to..."
Her words trailed off and her head fell forward.
I could only stare at the mess she'd left. I had heard
of demonic shapechangers, but I'd never actually seen
it. Now, I had proof.
Narisha composed herself and looked up, head high.
"I try not to show that side of my nature, Swordsman,"
she said at last. "But he was going to kill you. You,
Wulf. I realized that I couldn't let that happen."
I finally found my voice. "I... I don't begrudge that."
I swallowed. "I've seen worse. Thanks."
All the same, I was troubled. Niall had been about to
have me murdered horribly, true. But had the situation
been reversed, I would never have done the same to him.
Damn, I thought. Have I got a hidden streak of decency
or something?
"You said to think of you," Livia said. "We did. We
checked in on you in one of my scrying crystals. When
we saw what was happening I cast a transit spell, got
us here instantly."
"Gods," I muttered. "You probably set off every
proximity ward for a league around. Someone'll know
what's up."
Narisha joined us. Niall's blood had begun to dry,
scaling up around her mouth and neck. Damme, but she
was still beautiful.
"Not too terribly unhappy with me, are you, lover?" she
asked, tracing a bloody pattern on one breast. "I'll
never do that to you."
"I should hope not," I replied. "No, I think I've
accepted you as you are, regardless of what you turn
into. You don't accidentally change while making love
do you?"
She looked at me, smiling. "As a matter of fact I do,"
she said, "but I've got other shapes as well. Maybe
you'll see them some day. Wouldn't you enjoy making
love to a snarling panther?"
"I usually leave such things to dark elves," I said
dubiously, "but I'll take it under advisement. Not that
I'm ungrateful, but you two had better get back before
this place is swarming with scrutators. Naked demons
tend to arouse suspicions."
"Among other things," Livia muttered.
I stayed long enough to make sure that they 'ported
back home safely, then rapidly left the vicinity. Skate
was at the other end of the dock, well away from any
official attention.
I found Kamaz asleep, but woke her up anyway, barging
past the officer on deck, and cut a quick deal with
her, agreeing to have Skate ready and under full sail
at dawn. With that, I headed back toward Livia's,
taking a much more circuitous route than normal, and
staying close to the shadows.
CHAPTER XI
----------
Skate glided through the water like her graceful
namesake. Kamaz's little cutter was a truly fine ship.
She managed well with a minimal crew of less than a
dozen semi-cutthroats, her fine white sails bellying
into the wind like the wings of an albatross. Our
quarters were quite luxurious (at least for shipboard)
-- roomy, with genuine feather-beds, writing desks and
ample storage.
Our vessel was quite capable of defending herself, as
well. A pair of ballistae forward and aft could easily
be mounted behind armored mantlets, while there was a
small catapult stored disassembled below decks for
heavier combat. Skate's main strength was her speed,
however, and given the swift pace which we were
setting, I was grateful.
As I said at the beginning of my narrative, I'm not
much skilled with two-handed weapons, so I spent the
days at sea practicing with a Litharnan greatsword I
had collected from Livia's arms store. Lawbringer
remained locked away and hidden in my cabin, for use
only when we reached our destination.
My companions did likewise -- Stef practiced
lockpicking, stealth, and other thiefly skills; Odo
(once he sobered up and realized where he was) prayed
to his gods, chanted, sharpened his axe, and fantasized
about chopping demons into small pieces; and Xitaa,
bless her violent little heart, actually deigned to
spar with me. We used wooden swords and pulled our
punches, but I bore bruises after each bout
nonetheless. No, I don't think I'll ever be what you
would call a great swordsman.
Xitaa also burned a lot of incense, and spent a lot of
time meditating and reading. Fine pursuit for such a
healthy and active young woman, I thought.
I stayed in contact with my two beloveds through a
scrying crystal Livia had given me. All was going well
back home -- as far as everyone knew I was still dead,
and Niall's disappearance was blamed on angry guildsmen
who felt their protection payments were too high. Livia
said that she missed me, and kept me up on current
events.
Narisha rehearsed me in the demon-incantation that went
with the amulet, and insisted on giving me a blow-by-
blow description of her and Livia's mutual encounter
with the young poet and student. She had nearly scared
him to death, appearing unexpectedly as he and Livia
were delicately conjoined, then the two of them had
almost killed him in a much more constructive fashion.
I made a face, but listened anyway. Was it magic, or
was it me, I wondered? They could do anything, with
anyone, and for some bizarre reason I seemed to care
about them all the more. Damn.
With a good south wind behind us, we sailed at full
reach, putting ourselves days ahead of schedule. The
Yellow Jungle Isles and their reptilian inhabitants
slid by without incident (the damned Jarreks have a
tendency to swarm out in their war canoes if you look
at them crosseyed), we crossed through sea nomad
territory and never saw a single bloody city-raft, and
passed the Black Cliffs unnoticed by any lurking
Slaerthists.
The only real incident which marred the journey was a
run-in with a tribe of naked wyvern-riding savages who
swooped down on us with violent intentions. Fortunately
for us, they turned out to be Rexxarans, and Xitaa was
able to defuse their war-lust and send them off with
our best wishes. Within days, we were well within demon
waters.
Skate remained at full alert for those days, with
double patrols walking the deck and all eyes constantly
scanning the horizon. Kamaz, a stern-faced, powerfully
built woman, brooked no slacking and had us all help
out.
Thick sea-fogs tended to envelop the deck at night,
rising like living things out of the black water
beneath us. A sailor claimed to have seen a vast, black
ray-like creature glide beneath us, cast a single
malevolent red eye our way, and then continue on its
way, trailing a vast, rudder-like tail behind it. Once,
while I was on watch, I'd swear I saw a writhing mass
of black tentacles on the horizon, glinting wetly, but
then they disappeared and, luckily for us, did not
return.
Strange things happen in demon waters. Most magical
theorists believe that the temporal rift which
delivered the demons here also dragged along some of
their own magical energy with it, or altered our own
magical energies in such a way that normal spells don't
work, or work strangely. I didn't dare try it out --
there was no sense attracting attention to ourselves so
close to our goal. My communication with Narisha and
Livia ceased for the time being, and I left them to
their sybaritic rituals without having to hear about
them.
And we were close, no doubt of it. Kamaz discovered
that our charts were out of date, and that many of the
shoals and shallows listed on it had changed, growing
shallower and muddier, or dropping down to unknown
depths. Despite this, we proceeded smoothly, sailing
through the black waters without encountering any
demons or their bizarre, self-propelled ships. A little
over a week after leaving Stoneburg, Arak Island
swelled ahead of us, shimmering in the noonday sun.
It looked like something in a painting -- a vast,
shaggy green island, tangled jungle rising to a
towering prominence near the center, where Hellgate
Keep, stronghold of Duke Janus and his household,
crouched like a moldy vulture. Of course, we were
approaching from the Keep's blindside, and would be
anchoring in a sheltered inlet along the island's
eastern edge. I could only hope that our approach had
gone undetected, and that Skate would be safe at anchor
while my team hacked through the jungle and stole the
treasure from under demonic noses.
Kamaz saw us off with her usual aplomb, gazing sternly
at us as we made for the shore in a ship's boat. On the
entire journey, I hadn't seen the woman show emotion
even once, and she didn't show it now.
My companions reflected their various personalities,
either looking apprehensively toward the towering green
lushness ahead like Stef, lost in thoughts of battle,
sex and booze, preferably in combination, like Odo, or
sitting calmly with a look of deep serenity like Xitaa.
As for myself, I'm not entirely sure what I looked like
--
I only know it wasn't terribly happy.
"Less than a day in and out," I said. "I want this to
go smoothly."
"Yeah, but it never does," said Stef, his brows
knitting, his handsome blonde face contorting into an
expression which said "Gods and demons, Wulf, you've
gotten me into it again..."
"Hrm," grumbled Odo, fingering the blade on his
battleaxe. He was in what might be called standard
dwarf gear -- chain shirt, steel cap, heavy gauntlets
and a bad attitude. "I'd hate to go through all this
trouble and not meet at least one demon."
"Goddess provide," Xitaa muttered, her protruding lips
barely moving. She had gone through some rather
involved rituals the night before, involving anointing
herself with sacred oils and inhaling various burning
herbs, and this morning had made herself up with heavy
kohl and black, shiny pigment on her lips, contrasting
with her naturally pale skin. In armor she looked like
Death's younger sister.
We beached the boat and concealed it in the underbrush,
all muttering prayers that the demon patrols weren't
too heavy on this part of the island. Without further
fanfare, we struck off into the jungle.
I breathed deeply. The air was humid and lush as the
thick green all around us. Birds shrieked overhead, and
insects thrummed ceaselessly, like the constant rhythm
of a fever dream. I led the way, hacking through
vegetation with a sickle; Lawgiver was strapped
uncomfortably to my back projecting sufficiently on
both sides to make the going unpleasant.
The other three followed along behind, all professional
enough to keep their mouths shut. Each warily scanned
the jungle around us for any signs of the enemy. Odo
and Xitaa each carried a spanned crossbow (which I
trusted would not accidentally go off at a bad moment),
and Stef carried a brace of throwing daggers. Narisha
and Livia had pronounced a few cantrips over our
weapons, giving them added potency against demons,
although none of the normal arms had even a tenth the
power of my own weapon. All things considered, I
thought, we were quite a capable bunch.
Our capabilities were tested only once when a pair of
six-legged reptilian monstrosities charged us,
bellowing and hissing. They were hunting beasts --
crested and horned, with the bizarre, cone-shaped eyes
of chameleons. They gave us a worried moment or two,
until Lawgiver's anti-demonic enchantments helped me
slice them into sections. Odo even got in a hack or
two, but he seemed disappointed not to have been
awarded the deathblow. Breathing heavily, and hoping
that the jungle contained no further horrors, we
continued.
We reached the entrance to Hellgate with no more
encounters. The tunnel entrance was unguarded,
overgrown with vines, and to all appearances, quite
forgotten. I hoped that appearances were, for once,
correct. Stef assured us that it was, indeed, abandoned
and contained no hidden pitfalls which he could see.
With all due caution, we entered.
About a hundred yards in, when the greenish light of
the jungle had faded to a tiny pinhole behind us, and
the drips of water, scuffling of vermin, and flutter of
bats (or something) was amplified to alarming levels, I
began to wonder whether the mouse- amulets we were
wearing were nothing more than window-dressing with no
real magical abilities simply intended to make us feel
better.
I could just see my wicked Narisha explaining herself -
- "Well, if you thought they worked, it was as good as
if they really did, wasn't it?" then a sweet giggle and
an invitation to play.
And Wulf -- the idiot -- rushing to play without regard
for the consequences.
The tunnel turned out to be a nightmare, but
fortunately one of the more mundane kinds. We scrambled
over piles of rubble, crawled through filthy muck,
squeezed through passages barely two handspans wide
(Odo only got stuck once), and contended with cascades
of water pouring from the roof (which had the positive
effect of washing most of the muck away) before finally
reaching the end and the rusty, encrusted interior of
an iron door. There were no more hunting beasts, no
shambling legions of undead, no strange demonic magical
wards -- we had made it without any unnatural
confrontations. I knew, however, it was too early to
heave a sigh of relief.
The door was the next obstacle. I was reluctant to open
it magically for fear that it might set off wards or
alarms inside. If that happened, we'd be on Janus'
table that night, saut‚ed in lemon butter and stuffed
with chestnuts. I turned to Stef.
"Okay, tapper," I said, gesturing. "Do your stuff."
Stef cracked his knuckles and approached the door. We
watched in tense silence as he rapped quietly on the
rusty surface, tested rivet heads, and searched for
hinges. After a few minutes of intense concentration,
he turned to me with the final verdict.
"Can't be done," he said.
I glared at him. "I'm so glad I brought a professional
along."
He shrugged. "The rivets are solid, it's heavily barred
from the inside, and I can't reach the hinges. Got any
ideas, boss?"
I sighed. "Sorry. I'm just on edge. I guess I'd better
start casting. Just hope that this demon-magic doesn't
screw me up."
"I'll close my eyes."
While Stef stood back, Odo fidgeted, and Xitaa looked
solemn and beautiful, I laid out my components, wrote
runes on the door, and gestured appropriately. I'm not
one for shouting my invocations; I prefer to keep them
reasonably secret -- besides, shouted spells might
attract attention. I mumbled the words as softly as I
dared and held my breath as the runes glowed white-
hot, and a circular hole slowly burned itself into the
middle of the door. Sparks flew and an acrid smell
assailed my nostrils, and in a few moments it was
finished. A clean, circular plug of metal two inches
thick slowly toppled from the door.
I jumped. "Catch it!" I whispered urgently. I didn't
need a loud clanging noise to complete the racket I'd
created by casting. Odo trundled forward, arms extended
to intercept the falling metal, but succeeded only in
breaking the thing's fall as it crashed down on him
with a muffled thud.
Stef and I heaved the circle off, revealing Odo half-
embedded in the gravely floor. He growled, climbed out
(leaving an interesting negative image of himself
behind), and dusted himself off without a word.
"Sorry," I whispered.
"Mrrph," Odo grunted. "Let's go kill something."
CHAPTER XII
-----------
We had entered an unused section of the fortress,
raising my hopes that there were no wards set. As we
crept through the dusty, darkened corridors, no hellish
legions or demonic sorcerers assailed us, and I began
to consider the possibility that we might have slipped
in undetected.
In the dim light from a vine-covered grating overhead,
I inspected the map of the fortress which Narisha had
given me. We didn't know exactly where the crown might
be kept, but she had marked some of the more prominent
possibilities. Unless I had the map completely
backwards, the nearest possible hiding place was only a
hundred yards or so away. With as much haste as we
could manage while staying relatively quiet (Xitaa's
armor clanked a bit, but you can't have everything).
The room we sought was in the abandoned area, and was
also dusty and deserted. Resignedly, we moved on.
The fortress corridors seemed almost comfortingly
familiar. The demons seemed to use similar patterns to
our own human architecture, although their exteriors
were baroque and complicated. Lintel stones and
corridor walls were often fancifully carved with
monstrous visages and abstract designs, but even these
had a relatively mundane look to them. I was feeling
much more optimistic as we approached a more well-
traveled and -lit section of Hellgate. Here, torches
burned and sunglobes shone, making one feel for all the
world like a small bug on a very large plate.
Another possibility proved a washout -- this room was
full of crates and jars of various sizes and designs.
Odo's eyes sparked and he made a grab for one jar
(whether he thought it contained wine or gold I'm not
certain) before we dragged him off.
Blue shadows wavering around a bend in the corridor
alerted me to approaching hazard, and I waved everyone
back into the shadows, hoping desperately that
Narisha's amulets really did work.
A pair of male demon sentries stalked down the hallway
as we cowered. They wore male versions of Narisha's
leather-and-mail number and looked grim. The lead bore
a long, possibly decorative, scar down one cheek, while
the other carried what looked like a black longbow. As
I watched, the bow seemed to waver slightly, and I
heard a mumbling sound, as if the bow was whispering
softly to its owner.
I tensed, my hand straying to Lawbringer's hilt, but
the demons continued on. The second one backhanded his
bow, growling something along the lines of, "whiny
bitch..."
I let out the breath I'd been holding. Either Narisha's
mouse-amulets really worked, or we hid better than I
would have thought possible.
We continued. On the third candidate room, we got
lucky. Peeking around a corner, I saw a pair of demon
guards standing watch outside a barred iron door with a
large brass padlock, leading me to believe that
something important lay beyond.
"Jackpot," I whispered to Odo and Xitaa. "Ready to kill
something?"
That was about all they needed. While Stef held back,
the three of us burst out onto the surprised demon
guards. Lawbringer literally leapt in my hands, lashing
out to cleave the first demon even as he drew his
sword, while Odo and Xitaa's ensorcelled weapons hacked
down the second. They took about a dozen blows to
accomplish what I did in one (demon flesh being what it
is), and their victim was a little less tidy than mine,
but I wasn't about to complain.
"Stef!" I hissed, gesturing at the lock. "Open this
bastard and get me inside. The shit's gonna hit the
windmill now."
Without a word, he went at the lock with his picks and
needles, and in a moment, it popped open and Stef
grinned.
"Good job," I said. I thought about Narisha's
admonition and fingered the amulet in my pouch. "You
three get rid of the bodies. I'm going to have to go in
alone. I'll let you know when I'm finished."
Odo looked crestfallen (all this time and only one dead
demon, and that a joint effort), Xitaa nodded briefly
and began to drag one of the bodies away, and Stef cast
me a quizzical look, then began to tug on the other. I
drew a deep breath, held the amulet close, opened the
door and entered.
Numbing cold assailed me the instant I opened the door.
I closed it behind me, not wishing whatever was inside
to get out, or to have my companions see me casting a
demonic spell. I pulled out the amulet and gazed at my
surroundings.
Frost rimed every surface. Beneath my feet lay a sheet
of gleaming ice. Icicles like crystalline daggers as
tall as me hung from the walls. My breath came in vast
clouds of steam, and it hurt to inhale. The cold air
pinched at my face, and soon my skin was aching.
Ahead lay a blank wall, as icy and cold as the rest of
the room. I took a step toward it, sliding my boots
across the ice- sheet to maintain friction, and the
wall seemed to suddenly slide backwards, growing
smaller, running away from me. The room stretched into
an icicle-lined hallway, thirty, forty, fifty feet.
Clutching the amulet tightly, making sure that
Lawbringer was free in its sheath, I hurried down the
steadily-lengthening corridor, slipping now and then,
but retaining my feet.
The lengthening of the corridor slowed (or was I
catching up with it?), and the end began to approach. I
strained through the fog of my own exhalations to see
what was there. My heart leaped -- in the center of the
wall was a recessed niche. And in the niche lay a
black-and-silver, jeweled crown. Gods, had I actually
managed to.
No, of course not.
A billow of cold wind stopped me, kicking up a storm of
ice chips, and I stumbled backward, slipping and almost
falling. A thin, warbling shriek split the air, and as
I tugged my sword free I saw a tall, dark form rising
up from the clouds of cold air.
It came at me, long, skeletal arms outreached. It might
have been human once -- I wasn't certain. A frost-
covered skull-like visage leered and shrieked, blue
eyes glowing from sunken sockets. Scraps of long,
snarled black hair trailed from its skull and it wore
some kind of tattered gray garment.
It floated a foot off the floor, speeding toward me as
if blown on the cold wind, and I realized I only had an
instant to cast Narisha's spell. I held the amulet
before me like a shield and rasped the impossible
syllables which Narisha had taught me.
The thing kept coming, bony arms reaching, claws
clutching...
I continued to growl and gargle the demon-spell.
Dammit! Those demons had a different word for
everything...
The amulet glowed, emitting a flash of coruscating
colors, lancing out in a beam to strike the thing. It
hissed, and the cold suddenly increased...
Then it was gone.
Not entirely. The room was still bone-numbingly chill,
but the dry, painful quality of the cold had moderated
somewhat. The walls were still hung with stalactites,
and the floor was still covered in a jacket of ice, but
I realized that the room had returned to its original
dimensions; the niche was still there, crown and all,
but for the moment I was fixated on what the ice-ghoul
thing had evidently transformed into.
An exquisite creature, seemingly carved of pale blue
ice sat on a low couch, regarding me with wide, purple
eyes. Her face was small, softly curved, with round
cheeks, well-defined, dark- blue lips and long,
straight blue-black hair. She was dressed in a white
shift which exposed a considerable expanse of leg,
drawn up beneath her protectively. But most remarkable
of all, a pair of delicate, butterfly-like wings, all
frosty and colored in (surprise!) shades of blue. They
had an unhealthy look to them, drooping sadly as if
overburdened by the weight of ice and imprisonment.
She was faerie, by the gods. I'd been around the isles
for years, and I'd never even seen one, even going so
far as to nurse doubts whether they actually existed.
Rumor had it that their beauty was sufficient to strike
mortals dead. Fortunately, while the icy blue creature
before me was a being of near-unearthly beauty, I was
still very much alive. So much for that particular
legend, I thought.
"You spoke the words," she said, in a tiny, uncertain
voice as if unused to verbal communications.
"Yes," I said. "Was that just an illusion?"
"Not real, no. Not like me. You come to free me?"
I nodded. "Yes," I said. "You're fr..." I stopped
short. Around the faerie woman's slender neck was a
collar, connected to the wall by a chain. Both were
seemingly made of ice.
"Wait," I said. I approached. Cold still rolled off
her; I wondered idly if it was part of the spell which
had imprisoned her. I set my feet as best I could
against the ice, then swung Lawbringer heavily against
the ice-chain.
To my surprise, nothing happened. Lawbringer struck the
chain full-force, but did not even chip the crystalline
surface.
"Damn," I muttered.
She gazed at me sadly. "Can't break the chain that way.
Chain is faerie-magic. Sword kills demon-magic."
I sighed and sheathed the blade. "How do I break the
chain, then?"
The wide eyes met mine and locked. "Demon curse," she
whispered in a voice as cold and hopeless as the
cubicle she occupied. "Mortal love frees me. Makes me
warm. Nothing else. No mortals here, so faerie can
never be free."
Fucking demons. I looked apologetic. "I'm afraid mortal
love takes time. I... I can't feel love for you if I
just..."
She interrupted me with a scornful snort. "Not 'love'
love, man," she said, sounding almost amused. She ran
her hands up and down her body as her shift grew
tantalizingly tight, and gestured rather explicitly.
"Lo-o-o-ve!"
Wulf is slow sometimes, but for once his mind was a
trap of finest spring-steel. I realized exactly what
she meant after only thirty seconds or so of intense
thought.
"You want me to..." I began.
She hugged herself passionately and again her shift
grew taunt across her firm breasts. Her expression had
grown at once hopeful, joyous and mischievous. "Love
me!" she said. "Love me, man. Love me and melt my
chains."
I shrugged mentally, hoping that my companions in the
hall could spare me for a few more minutes. I
approached, loosening my jerkin and breaches. Gods, how
would I be able to perform in this cold, I wondered?
"You love me now?" she asked.
"If the cold allows," I replied. Hell, the consequences
of dysfunction here meant keeping an innocent being in
chains indefinitely. I'd encountered disappointed women
before (one of whom still persisted in referring to me
as "Mister Flopsey"), but this would be more than I
could stand. Performance anxiety began to rear its ugly
head. "I don't know if I can..."
"Hm," the faerie said. "You can. Start here." With a
wriggle, she slid out of her shift. Her blue flesh was
tight, her body slender but firm. Her small breasts
were perfectly matched to her delicately flared hips
and her nipples, like her lips, were a dark bluish-
black. She stroked at the dark blue hair between her
legs. "Start here, man. Warm first. Then love. Lots of
love."
"My pleasure," I said, kneeling down. "My name is Wulf,
by the way."
"Wulf-man. Yes. Love me. Love Orchid."
I placed my hands on Orchid's thighs (I briefly feared
that my hands would stick, like a tongue to a cold
piece of metal, but fortunately this did not happen).
Her flesh was cold and smooth as ice. Beneath my hands,
however, I felt her skin grow warmer and softer. The
mere touch of a human had begun to thaw her icy prison.
"Oh, yes, man." Her voice was excited and high as my
fingers massaged the dark blue lips of her sex. They,
too, were icy at first, but began to warm and grow soft
at my touch. Taking a deep breath, and hoping to avoid
frostbite, I moistened my tongue and delicately placed
it against Orchid's nether lips.
She quivered, hands clenching and unclenching. Her
thighs and cunt were streaked with blue-white now, and
although the softness of her sex was still cold, it was
warming and moistening rapidly. I breathed the growing
moisture deeply; she was as rich as a fine wine, and I
consumed her with building enthusiasm.
Orchid's body tensed now, she leaned back, belly
tightening, hands held in fists. She moaned, and the
sound vibrated through my mind and into my soul. Her
color paled, growing lighter and lighter blue and,
looking up, I saw flashes of bright, butterfly color
pulsing through her wings.
"Ohhh, man. Wulf-man... You love me. Yes."
I stroked her thighs and held her buttocks as she
lifted herself up from the couch. Beneath my tongue,
more juices flowed, and the soft, succulent flesh grew
almost warm. The room was still cold, but I was working
on an erection of epic proportions.
The pulsating blue-white colors came faster and faster.
I sucked and licked, nibbling at her lips (now flashing
pink and blue as the temperature soared), tasting her
deeply. I wanted to make use of the hot hardness that
was growing below my belt, but I was still concerned
about wilting in the cold.
I decided to chance it. I stepped back, divesting
myself of clothing as quickly as I could manage. The
boots caused problems, and I had to pause to pull them
off, feeling the cold creep through my body, softening
my epic erection. (I suppose I could have kept some of
my gear on while I plunged away, but I'd always felt
this was rather tacky.)
"Come to me, man," Orchid whined, urgently, stroking
herself up and down. "Fill me with yourself..."
I positioned myself between her blue-white thighs,
placing my cock against her pouting, still-moist cunt-
lips. Her frenetic urgings continued, and I slid
smoothly inside, feeling ice-cold suddenly transform to
eager warmth, then moist hotness. My erection returned
in all its glory as I began to thrust in and out.
As Orchid writhed, moaning wordlessly now, I moved atop
her, holding myself up on the narrow couch, watching
her face contort and listening to her sighs and groans.
I crushed my mouth against hers. Yes, not surprisingly,
her lips were as cold here as they'd been elsewhere,
but they warmed swiftly. I tasted her tongue as it
slipped eagerly into my mouth, and felt a continuous
flow of magical heat and excitement flowing from the
faerie-woman's head, heart and cunt.
"Mmm," I mumbled. "I want to warm you. Set you free."
"Set Orchid free," she replied. "Love me. Fill me with
your love."
I continued to "love" sweet Orchid for some time. My
cock slid in and out as I kissed her, stroked her and
played with the delicate flesh of her breasts and
nipples. She seemed to particularly like this last, and
when I moved my hands elsewhere, she continued to
stroke and pinch with her own fingers.
Still, after all this effort, her color never improved
beyond a pale blue, and her chains remained as strong
as ever. True, the rest of the room seemed to be
thawing -- the floor was now slushy, the icicles
dripping a steady tattoo to accompany our lovemaking --
but Orchid herself seemed to reach a certain point and
go no further.
"I want more," she groaned. "Give me more love now,
man."
My head started to loll and my eyes crossed. "I can't
give you any more than this, Orchid," I gasped. "I'm
doing the best I can."
"No," she said impatiently, even as my erect organ
continued to caress the inside of her now-hot sex.
"More love. Need more love. Need more man, now."
The brief urge to tell her, "Sorry, toots. So long,"
crossed my mind and was swiftly crushed by my innate
sense of gallantry. My own frantic plunging was clearly
not enough to break the ice- chain spell. What was the
alternative? Another person to "love" Orchid?
Bingo. But who? Odo was too lost in battle-lust and
would probably scare the hell out of Orchid (and
besides, I had no real desire to see the greasy little
freak naked), and Xitaa's religious restrictions were a
bit too strict. The only alternative was... Gods.
I discreetly poked my head out the door, hoping to
conceal enough of myself that no one would notice that
I was mostly naked and still pretty excited.
They were still there, thank the fates. They looked
rather bored, and no more corpses decorated the
polished floor. I hissed urgently.
"Uh, Stef?" I asked. "Could you step in here for a
moment? I need some help."
Stef was quicker on the uptake than I was. He looked at
the scene inside the now-dripping ice-room, glancing
quizzically from me to Orchid, who lay, eyes slitted,
coyly playing with herself as she waited for action to
resume.
"She's a faerie?" he asked.
"Yeah, and she needs..." I faltered. "She needs help
to... to..."
"Gods damn it all, Wulf," Stef complained, taking note
of my unclothed and still relatively aroused state.
"We're out there waiting for Havra-knows what horror to
come lumbering down the hall, and you're in here
porking some female? Give me one good reason why I
shouldn't."
"Hello, beautiful man," said Orchid in a happy, sing-
song voice. "Come to help set me free?"
I shrugged helplessly. "I know what it looks like,
Stef. She needs what she calls 'mortal love' to break
her chains. It's a curse.
I can't seem to provide enough 'mortal love' to do the
job, so..."
"You like Orchid?" she asked again, sitting, holding
her ripe, firm, and now almost white breasts up for
inspection. "You love Orchid, beautiful man?"
Realization finally dawned on Stef's chiseled features.
"You mean, she wants us to..."
"You win a cookie," I replied. "Think of it as my way
of making up for you getting your arms ripped off. Now,
strip for action and help me, for gods' sake."
Stef grinned.
My semi-friend Stef ended up displaying several talents
which I hadn't suspected. First of all, he was hung
like a plow-horse, a situation which might have
disturbed another female, but seemed to suit Orchid
just fine.
"Big man," she whispered, in what I hoped was mock-awe.
"Let Orchid kiss your staff, big man."
As I resumed my former place between Orchid's thighs, I
watched as Orchid tilted her head over the edge of the
couch, her lips (now a pinkish violet, pulsating with
color) embracing Stef's thick organ, making muffled
sounds of delight. I slipped my own cock inside her and
resumed my former activities, feeling her grow still
warmer inside. The dripping and melting in the room
increased; I felt water dribbling down my naked back
and cold water splash against my neck. Rather than
discomfort, I felt all the more stimulated.
Orchid sucked at Stef with an eagerness I'd rarely seen
before. His own face was contorted with an expression
almost like intense concentration, and he made a rusty
sound deep in his throat as the faerie-woman devoured
his slick organ.
I felt her hands grab my buttocks and pull me in,
faster and faster. My shaft was hot now with her
juices, and her groans, muffled by the thickness of
Stef's cock, grew louder and louder. Her sweet cunt
around my cock tightened and the heat increased. Water
poured down from every corner of the room, (reminding
me of Livia and the waterfall, not surprisingly)
beading up and running down our bodies. Cold water
splashed down on Orchid's heaving belly and breasts;
her nipples grew hard and swollen in response. I pumped
faster and faster, and I could see Stef doing the same.
She groaned still louder, echoing from the slick walls,
shaking my heart and vibrating my spirit. Orchid made
incoherent sounds, clawing now at Stef, pulling him
into her mouth with fervent intensity. I had never
thought that a woman could come simply from sucking a
man off, but Orchid seemed to be an exception --
besides, she wasn't strictly human anyway.
The room was almost warm now; the melting ice had left
the air heavy with humidity. Orchid was almost
normally-colored now, her skin alabaster white, her
lips and nipples rich coral-color, her hair was
lustrous blue-green. But the most vivid and beautiful
thing about her now was her wings -- they glittered and
shone with a dozen colors, all rimmed in black, like
stained-glass windows. Being pinned beneath her as she
furiously sucked both of us into her didn't seem to do
them any harm, either.
Orchid released Stef, spittle trailing from his thick,
slick shaft. She looked at me. "You now. You here," she
said. "You there," she said to Stef, pointing at me.
I took advantage of the break to catch my breath. I was
gasping pretty heavily now. "Trade off?" I said to
Stef.
Also looking rather ragged, he nodded wordlessly, and
we moved to opposite positions. Orchid took my cock
into her mouth, as Stef slid his own shaft into her.
She stiffened as he entered her, and pulled harder on
my cock. I wouldn't be able to keep this up much
longer, I realized and, by the look of him, Stef
wouldn't be able to either.
Her lips moved faster and faster, purple eyes fixed on
mine, hot tongue flicking up and down the length of my
organ. The ice- chain looked thinner now, and meltoff
ran freely down her neck and shoulders. The misty rain
continued to pound down; all the ice was gone now, but
the room was now awash in gallons of water.
As the heat of her mouth grew and grew, I realized that
faeries must have a much higher body temperature than
humans -- Gods, the cold must have been hellish for
this poor creature...
She let me go now, and spoke in a husky whisper. "I
want more," she said. "More love. More men. Give me
more."
I looked at Stef. He seemed oblivious, pounding his
heavy cock in and out of her saturated cunt. I was not
surprised when I saw steam rising from her sex as Stef
continued to thrust and thrust.
"No more," I said, again rejecting Odo for personal
reasons. "We're all there is, Orchid."
She looked distraught for a moment, then her face
brightened. "I can make more now," she said, excitedly.
"Faerie magic works now. I can make more."
She seized my cock again and stuffed it into her mouth.
There was a shimmer in the air beside us, and a crackle
of magical energy. Then, at either side of our
voracious little fairy stood a naked, erect male form.
I looked at our new companions, and almost jumped out
of my skin. One was me -- hairy, grizzled and
bewildered-looking as ever -- and the other was
handsome, blonde Stef, complete down to every ripple of
his washboard stomach. Simulacra? Illusions?
Shapeshifting elementals? I could not be sure.
What was certain was the single-minded determination
with which they stepped forward, each placing his erect
cock in one of Orchid's hands. She wrapped her pale
fingers around the engorged flesh and began tugging
with the same fervor that her mouth sucked and nibbled
at my cock. The sight was almost too much. I could feel
orgasm sneaking up on me like a House Kinif assassin.
The next thing I knew, the chain shattered, flinging
ice shards all across the room. We tumbled to the floor
in a slippery tangle of limbs, splashing down into half
a foot of warm water. I was on my back, my legs wrapped
around Orchid's shoulders, as her mouth practically
raped my defenseless organ, teeth delicately scoring my
taunt skin. Stef was beneath us (hopefully not
drowning); her buttocks worked furiously, pulling him
in and out. She retained her grip on the two simulacra,
who emitted moans which seemed echoes of Stef's and my
own.
Another multicolored shimmer gleamed behind her, and
yet a fifth figure appeared, this one a seeming amalgam
of the two of us -- my face on most of Stef's body
(although a few of my scars and tattoos seem to have
been duplicated as well). Also moving stiffly and
apparently without much will of its own, the man-thing
manipulated its own engorged cock (it resembled Stef's
more than mine, I noted briefly), placing it between
pale globes of the faerie-woman's buttocks, then thrust
into her.
It's never been one of my favored modes of lovemaking
(although Narisha's requested it often enough), and it
never struck me as the most exciting thing in the
world, but the fifth cock to nestle in one of Orchid's
intimate places set her off like a blazing inferno. She
pumped Stef in and out with almost blinding speed. Her
mouth had transformed into a fiery tunnel which I could
barely tolerate. With both hands she embraced the two
simulacra's cocks, tugging and stroking, while the
final player in our little menage thrust a duplicate of
Stef's organ into the faerie's final available orifice.
Her wings, free now, flapped and fluttered gracefully,
colors coruscating and shining, almost glowing with a
rainbow of shades.
I couldn't restrain myself any more. Orgasm flooded
fiery sensation through my veins and I felt my cum gush
into Orchid's eager mouth. Her own muffled wails rose
to a deafening level, and Stef's shorter and shorter
grunts indicated he was on the edge as well. With a
heaving grunt, he came as well.
Simultaneously, our simulacra thundered over into
orgasm, hot white fluid splashing all over Orchid's
hands and arms, while behind her the last one exploded
all over her heaving ass.
"Ahhhh," Orchid gasped, letting my collapsing organ go,
letting cum run from her mouth. Our five-fold
contractions seemed to rocked through her body, and she
twitched and heaved, as if her own climax fired off all
her muscles at once. "Ohhh, man... I am free..."
The three duplicates vanished in flashes of
multicolored light, and she rose gently to the surface,
disengaging the also- spent Stef, who lay, like me,
gasping in the now-warm water. The room was downright
hot now, the ice transformed to steam, and the demon
crown was still safely in its niche.
Orchid was now bathed in flickering, coruscating
lights, seemingly shining from her slowly flapping
wings, illuminating her sweet, naked body with an
unearthly glow. She hovered near the ceiling, beaming
down on us with a smile that could shatter glass.
"Orchid loves you," she said, and her voice echoed
through us, as if it came from beyond the confines of
the room. "Orchid loves you very much. I want more. I
want more men for me. Ten. A hundred. I will have many
men where I go, but you come see Orchid. Orchid will
love you special. Feel love in Orchid's land -- feel
her special love."
I waved weakly. "Bye, love," I said with all the energy
I could muster. "Have a good trip."
Stef waved as well, but could only manage a rusty
squeak.
She waved as well, then faded away, her lights growing
dimmer and dimmer.
"Orchid loves you," she said, as if receding down a
long tunnel. "Remember. Orchid loves you both."
Then she was gone.
I looked at Stef, barely retaining enough strength to
swivel my head. "So, how 'bout getting that crown and
getting the hell out of here?" I said.
Stef nodded. "Argle bargle," he replied.
CHAPTER XIII
------------
"What took ya so long?" Odo demanded as we hurried from
the room. The crown was safe in my backpack for now.
"And why ya so wet?"
"Guardian water elemental," I said briefly. "Spewed all
over us before we could kill it."
"Hmph," the dwarf grunted. "Shoulda called me."
Stef shook his head wordlessly while I ignored the
little psychopath and motioned everyone to follow me
down the corridor. "Come on," I said. "We got what we
came for, now let's get the hell out."
Stef chuckled. "Almost too easy, huh?"
I was about to reply when I realized that the blonde
idiot had probably jinxed us with that remark.
Footsteps echoed down the corridor. Lots of footsteps.
"Double time!" I hissed. "We're outa here!"
We all sprinted for the exit, away from the footsteps.
Unfortunately, myriad footfalls also sounded down that
route, as well.
"Crap," I muttered. "You had to go and say it, didn't
you, Stef?"
"Sorry," he said contritely, drawing a throwing dagger.
"Hah!" Odo barked, swinging his axe. "We'll make mince-
pies of 'em. Come and get me, ya red skinned
motherfuckers!"
Dwarves, I reflected, were not long on subtlety.
In front of us a squad of demons appeared, led by the
pair we'd seen in the hallway. The bowman had his
weapon out and strung, a heavy black arrow aimed
straight at me. The bow continued to groan and mumble,
while the other ten (or was it fifty?) or so demon held
weapons in various shapes and colors, all crackling
with so many enchantments I felt my hair start to stand
on end.
I turned around. Xitaa was whispering some battle chant
under her breath, slim longsword held on guard. Behind
us it was worse. A similar crowd of demon-warriors,
both male and female (and, gods help me, I'd probably
have been willing to jump in the sack with any one of
them, regardless of gender -- such is the demons'
attraction to us, I guess) stood watching us with
expressions ranging from wariness to amusement and
outright hate.
In the middle of the crowd, however, stood the biggest,
most muscle-bound demon male I'd ever seen. A set of
heavy goat horns curled from his temples, fangs
overhung his thin lips, and in each hand he held a
blade which made Lawbringer look like a toothpick. He
wore little in the way of clothing, revealing a chest
the size of a White Empire dreadnaught and arms like
high elven guardian trees. On either side of him was a
snarling hunting beast resembling a cross between a
bull mastiff and a sabre-toothed tiger, each wearing a
spiked collar, their eyes glaring with red- yellow
animosity. I had a sneaking hunch that the demonic
muscle- boy was Duke Janus himself.
"Surrender yourselves, humans," Janus growled in a
voice like mountains colliding. "This is your only
warning."
I considered this, then spoke. "Couldn't we just talk
like civilized."
"Kill them," Janus rumbled.
So much for diplomacy.
The demons hastened forward. I remembered the bowman
behind me and dodged. The black missile whizzed through
the air and struck a wall, coalescing into a sizzling,
black blob which oozed up the stonework like a living
thing.
Lawbringer rang from its scabbard, runes flashing blue-
white, lightning crackling up and down its length. The
demons in front of me hesitated, their eyes reflecting
what might have been fear, at the sight of the
legendary weapon.
"Time to kill!" Odo bellowed from behind me, and I
heard his blade swishing through the air, contacting
something with a meaty chunk. That was about all the
time I had to think about Odo as the demons overcame
their fear and charged in a body.
"For the Mother of All Battles!" Xitaa shouted,
swinging her sword. The enhanced metal sliced a demon's
arm (it would have split an ordinary human in two,
however), sending him staggering back.
As I've said repeatedly throughout this narrative, I'm
not the best swordsman in the world, but with
Lawbringer and doing most of the fighting, I certainly
felt like it. The sacred blade slashed effortlessly
through air and demon-flesh alike, its runes flashing
brightly, leaving long silvery trails.
No demon blade could touch me. Neither claw nor tooth
nor arrow could harm me. The demons before me fell
back, crying out in panic. "He holds an enchanted
blade!" they cried. "Ware! Heartcutter!"
I felt no mercy now -- it was Lawbringer taking
control, turning me into the living embodiment of
Goltha of Litharna, the Demon-Slayer. Male and female
demons fell before the blade's onslaught. One female
fell to her knees, black hair cascading, her eyes
gazing up at me almost beseechingly. She looked like
Narisha, and I saw a tattoo much like my lover's on one
breast, peeking out of her studded corset. Sorrow raged
deep inside me as the blade slashed through her,
sending her head spinning, and I knew that later I'd
feel horrible.
Beside me, Xitaa also strove against the red-fleshed
horde, albeit with somewhat less success. I glanced
over to see her trading blows with a slim male demon
dressed in a purely decorative chain mail vest. She
beat back a blow from the demon's axe then lunged with
her thin blade (a move popular with the Xeshite
blademasters, but not well known in my neck of the
woods), plunging the point though her opponent's
unarmored chest. Yes, even though the demon's body
could shrug off incredible damage, two feet of steel
though the chest still finished them off admirably.
I swung again, sending an armless demon shrieking down
the corridor. I realized that I now faced Duke Janus
alone.
"Hello, demon," I hissed through clenched teeth. "I
bring pain." (Not my own words, I don't think. Maybe it
was something Sir Goltha said once.)
Janus seemed unconcerned. He nodded briefly, and the
nightmare-dog hunting beasts leaped at me, fangs bared,
spittle strings trailing like streamers, their red eyes
glowing brighter and hotter. I slashed, Lawbringer drew
a glittering arc that cut through both beasts
midsections, slicing them in two. Blood and other, less
savory, substances splashed against the stone walls.
Janus was still unmoved, and leisurely moved toward me,
brandishing his twin swords.
"You bring me pain, human," he rumbled. "I bring you
much, much more."
Our weapons clanged together and to my surprise,
Lawbringer's swath of destruction finally crashed to a
stone cold stop. Something in the demon's weapons had
made the blade's magic flee, and I was once more just a
second-rate swordsman trying to fight with a sword I
could barely hold up.
Janus chuckled. "We demons have our own heartcutters,"
he growled, like a veldtland saber-cat ready to pounce.
"And you will know pain, human, not me."
I parried clumsily, but he knocked Lawbringer from my
hands. Panic seized me in a rough grip, and I turned to
flee. Calmly, without hurry, he stabbed me in the back.
I fell. I screamed. I did, indeed know pain. The
substance of the demon-blade coursed through my veins
like acid. I rolled over, looking up at Janus. He stood
above me, smiling evilly.
"I'll not grant you the mercy of a quick death, human,"
he said. "You've cost me many fine warriors today, with
your pathetic little toy sword." The wickedly fanged
point of one of the blades moved inexorably toward my
face. Gods. Narisha...
"Mother of All Battles! Deliver your servant!"
Xitaa's entreaty echoed down the corridor, riveting the
few surviving combatants. Janus looked up, annoyed.
"Purge the demon! Goddess save us!"
Xitaa stood proudly, legs planted widely apart, arms
upraised, sword pointing skyward. She looked for all
the world like one of Rexxara's own battle-maidens, her
armor splashed with blood, her face and voice defiant.
A deep rumbling filled the hall. Gods... No, I thought
-- Goddess...
Light flashed down Xitaa's blade, and then lanced out
to strike Janus in the chest.
It wasn't enough to kill. But it was enough to send the
duke tumbling backwards, his twin blades clanging to
the floor.
My pain seemed to vanish, and the clean peace of pure
battle filled my soul. I stood.
"Lawbringer!" I shouted, and the great sword flew
through the air to plant itself in my hands. I advanced
upon the stunned Janus.
He struggled to his feet. His swords were gone. He
looked at me fearfully.
"No pain, demon," I said quietly. "I'll cause you no
pain."
I killed him quickly and watched his lifeless body
crumple to the floor. Wearily, I sheathed Lawbringer
and turned to go.
Xitaa joined me. As we stepped over piles of sundered
demon bodies, I looked frantically around for Odo and
Stef.
Odo was easy. He had been slammed against a wall and
lay, insensible but alive, cradling his precious axe.
Stef, on the other hand...
His head was about ten feet away from his body. A demon
sword had sliced cleanly through his neck. He probably
never knew what hit him.
I kneeled down, frantically mumbling charms to
determine if his body still retained its vital spark.
Deep inside him, I thought I detected a faint pulse.
Gods, maybe...
Xitaa kneeled beside me, placing Stef's head on his
chest. She knew what I was doing, and joined me in
hastily muttering a binding spell, hopefully enough to
keep his spirit alive for the duration of the trip
back. If we were very lucky, a high priest of Phaedra
might be able to put him back together.
Grimly, we packed up our companions, and hurried from
the dreadful fortress, now little more than a
slaughterhouse.
Now, with all the fighting over, I could finally feel
sick.
CHAPTER XIV
-----------
Weariness pretty much oozed from every pore of my body.
We had succeeded, but in my estimation, the price had
been almost too high.
I saw to Stef's sundered remains and made sure that the
binding enchantment was still active -- all the while
steeling myself for the beating which Stef was sure to
deliver once he recovered. I made a mental note to
offer him a bonus as soon as he was capable of
communication.
Odo was still out cold, and I hoped that his dwarven
constitution would pull him through. For the moment, I
thought, crossing the deck with the Demon Crown secure
in my seabag, there was nothing I could offer save
prayer.
In retrospect, I should have realized that my travails
weren't over, but what happened next exceeded anything
I could have foreseen.
I knew something was wrong the instant I opened my
cabin door. The interior was lit with the rich, yellow
glow of a dozen oil lamps, scattered throughout the
small chamber, and the exotic scents of spicy incense
filled the air.
The incense burned in four small braziers, one placed
at each corner of the bed. The intruder who had placed
them there, however, was the most astonishing thing of
all.
Xitaa the Rexxaran sat cross-legged on my bed, hands
placed together before her. Rich, violet eyes stared
into space, as if focused on something distant, and
only barely visible. Her breathing was slow and
measured, and her white skin gleamed in the lamplight.
I saw an open bottle of oil on the floor, centered at
the foot of the bed.
Oh, yes -- did I forget to say that she was completely
naked as well? Doubly so for her near-total lack of
hair, save for her long, now-braided scalp-strip. Her
skin was quite fair, decorated here and there with
small (but strangely tasteful) scars. Her wound from
the battle at the keep had healed completely (probably
with the help of prayer), and was now indistinguishable
from her other scars. My own nasty wound, I noted, had
also been healed by Rexxara's timely intervention.
"Welcome, Sword Brother," she said. Her voice had a
strange timbre -- a subtle shift of tone which made it
sound even deeper and more serious than it had before.
"Come, partake of Rexxara's blessing and absolution."
With that, she moved her hands apart, extending her
arms, elbows slightly bent, palms facing me, presenting
a small, rounded pair of breasts, with exquisite pink
nipples, to my view.
That was about all the encouragement I needed. I
entered with more haste than was strictly seemly,
shutting and bolting the door behind me. I made to
approach the bed, but she stopped me with an abrupt
gesture, her shapely violet eyes fixing me with an
intense gaze.
"Come no nearer until you have prepared yourself,
brother," she said. "For I am no longer entirely the
woman you knew as Sister Xitaa. I have shed blood and
taken life as the Mother of All Battles has decreed.
But now, having performed the rituals for the taking of
life, we must perform the act which symbolizes the
giving of life."
I had surmised as much, and was quickly coming to the
realization that these Rexxarans weren't anywhere near
as stiff-necked and repressed as everyone thought.
"I am Xitaa," she continued in a voice which was at
once imperious and softly inviting, "but I am also now
vessel to Mother Rexxara, Goddess of Just Battle. Join
with us, brother, wash clean the blood of our enemies
with the perfect love of the Goddess."
Gods -- I guess you learn something new every day, eh?
I was about to take Rexxara/Xitaa up on her offer
(making love to a goddess not being something anyone
would turn down readily), when she stopped me again.
Gods!
"Prepare," she whispered, all seductive grace now. Her
hands moved in intricate patterns, palms weaving in and
out, breasts and belly moving rhythmically. Shadows lay
between her thighs and I was suddenly seized by the
intense desire to see what was hidden there.
"Prepare," she repeated. "Unclothe your body that the
Goddess may see you. Anoint yourself with her sacred
oils that you may be purified."
I didn't hurry; haste struck me as unseemly right now.
I took a deep breath, filling nostrils and lungs with
spicy fragrance, then loosened my shirt and breeches.
In a few moments, I stood before Xitaa, naked as the
day I entered the world.
The Goddess seemed to approve -- a smile crossed
Xitaa's sculptured face for the first time. It was
assisted, I imagine, by the actions of my organ, which
rapidly rose from half-mast status to full -- and
rather uncomfortable -- attention.
"It is good," she said, and her seductive tone
increased, dripping from her words like honey. "Rexxara
desires you. Anoint your body now, and receive her
favor."
The oil was a fragrant concoction, and I'm sure it cost
a fortune (assuming non-Rexxarans could even purchase
it, of course). I slathered it on my neck, chest,
stomach and thighs, rubbing fiercely.
It tingled and burned much like the fluids of my
beloved Narisha. I thought of her briefly (my erection
jumping a bit further at the notion), but I realized
that she wasn't here. This was one experience I wanted
to keep to myself.
"Approach, warrior," Xitaa murmured. She lay back on
the bed, now, torso elevated on a pile of pillows
arranged with ritualistic precision, and uncrossed her
legs, while carefully lacing her fingers behind her
naked head.
"Let me gaze on a goddess for a moment," I said,
running my eyes up and down the warrioress' body.
She was a muscular woman -- each individual sinew
firmly outlined and distinct (I suspected strongly that
she could beat me arm wrestling). Solid, angular
shoulders gave way to arms which looked strong but in
no way grotesque. Small but well-formed breasts rose
high above the sharpness of her ribs and the taunt
smoothness of her belly. Her thighs powerful and pale
as those of a statue -- framed her sex, smooth and
hairless as the rest of her, clean-shaven and delicate,
creating a gentle, soft center amid the harsh rigidity
of her fighter's physique.
Yes, I believed a goddess lived in those corded arms
and powerful thighs, but She also dwelt in the fragile
pink flower of her cunt.
"Let me worship Rexxara," I said simply, and joined her
on the bed.
Goddess she may have been (or at least an avatar), but
her tastes were strictly earthly. We flowed together
like water, our slick skin sliding without friction,
the pressure of fingers and mouths running freely along
each other's bodies.
I kissed her deeply, tasting wine and other, more
exotic things on her tongue. She returned my kisses
with passion, roaming inside my mouth as our bodies
combined and recombined.
My hand sought her breast, gliding along her oil-slick,
hairless belly to enclose the sweet little globe and
tickle its rapidly-hardening center of desire. She
moaned against my mouth, sending delicate vibrations
through me.
"Worship me," she whispered, fiercely. "Worship me!"
Her own fingers ranged over my chest, fingering my own
nipples as I toyed with hers. I moved lower to embrace
her breasts with my lips, rolling swollen nipples
between my teeth.
Her mouth free, Xitaa provided a running commentary,
part ritual, part passion.
"Nurse at the breasts of the mother of passion,
mortal," she gasped, words barely coherent. "Stroke my
flesh and feel my blessings radiate outward... we join
together in penance and faith, you and I... worship me
and worship the Goddess..."
My mind grew strangely divided. In one half, I gave in
to passion, and explored the eager body of this
goddess-woman, taking back pleasure from her lips and
fingers to equal what I gave.
The other half of my awareness writhed in something
resembling religious ecstasy. That this act -- so
thoroughly pleasurable and essential to our natures --
could be considered a form of worship aroused a deep-
seated longing in me, and now both halves fed off of
each other. I truly believed, now, that Xitaa was an
earthly incarnation of a terrible goddess of violence
and passion, of creation and destruction.
"Take my body," I rasped with the same pent-up desire
as Xitaa had spoken. "I surrender to the Goddess..."
Then Xitaa was kissing and fondling my engorged cock,
tracing its outlines with finger and tongue, all the
while continuing to chant in a near-trance of religious
and sexual fervor.
"Oh, the Goddess is good, she is kind... Let her lips
embrace your manhood, be one with her... Pay homage
with your lips and tongue... Pay her homage and she
returns your pleasure tenfold... Now, man, belong to
the Goddess, accept her love... Love her, lie with her,
find joy in her sweet recesses, find pleasure in her
soft breasts and loving cunt..."
Her lips encircled my cock and, without further
preliminaries, she swallowed its entire length, eyes
closed, body trembling. Soft, wet warmth enveloped me,
as if she were sucking my entire body inside her.
I was damned if I'd be the only one accepting Rexxara's
blessing. With a heave, I pulled Xitaa's hard body atop
mine, placed my hands on her thighs, spread them apart
and thrust my face into the depths of her pink,
hairless sex.
She stiffened, and a high-pitched sound escaped from
her throat, vibrating through my manhood, then her
trembling increased. She periodically released my cock
to utter another invocation, then enveloped it again,
groaning deeply, stroking with lips and tongue, as a
feverish heat rose deep inside me. -- -- "Feel the
Goddess' passion... mmm... against your burning
flesh... mmm... Her blessing in each caress... mmm...
of her loving tongue."
All of this made me even wilder, of course, and as
sexual and religious passion grew closer and closer
together in my mind, I wanted her more and more. I told
her so.
"Let me put my cock inside you," I gasped.
She complied instantly, lying back on her pile of
pillows, opening up her beautiful cunt for me, now
slick with my own spittle and her sweet honey.
"Fill the cunt of the Goddess," she said in excited,
yet strangely measured and ritualistic tones. "Fill her
cunt with your manhood and accept her blessing."
Pure, wild lust had pretty much taken over, and without
further preliminaries, I slipped my cock between the
moist pink lips and thrust deeply into the warm wetness
inside.
After all the build-up, Xitaa's climax was
instantaneous, clamping down on my cock like a fist.
Through clenched teeth she groaned, gasping out a
further litany.
"Fill your goddess' womb, man... Ohhh... Spill your
seed inside her blessed cunt... Ohhh... Fill her...
Love her..."
I let her climax progress before I finally abandoned
control. "Share with the Goddess, blessed, beautiful
mortal. She loves you, loves your cock, loves your
seed... Ohhh... Fill her mortal... Ohhh... Fill her
now..."
On cue, I crashed noisily and unstoppably into orgasm,
hot semen geysering from my cock, spewing into the
moist goddess-cunt.
I groaned -- it was not over... A second wave crashed
over me, and blinding orgasm flashed through my veins
again.
I think I went somewhere else for an instant. Perhaps
it was only Xitaa's religious trance, or perhaps I
really did move briefly to the land beyond, where the
gods all dwell.
In the last instant of my second orgasm, I saw her -- a
beautiful, red-haired woman clad for battle, naked
sword in her hand, cold fire in her eyes.
I met those eyes without fear. As our gazes locked, the
beautiful woman smiled a secret smile, and nodded
approvingly...
Then, she was naked, lush and fleshy, breasts like
small planets, hips wide and inviting, hands held out
seductively, still smiling a secret smile...
Then I was back, lying on the bed, my last scintilla of
strength drained, and Xitaa was beside me, collapsed
into sated unconsciousness.
Rexxara? I don't know. Perhaps. At that point, I knew
better than to speculate. I was pretty useless for the
remainder of the trip back. Xitaa immediately returned
to her steely warrioress' persona, and Odo eventually
recovered, assaulting one crewman and demanding rum. We
kept the soul-binding renewed, and I hoped desperately
that we'd gotten it cast in time.
Skate's crew remained friendly in a distant,
professional way. They had some idea what we'd been
through, and didn't begrudge me my exhaustion. The last
bit of exertion with Xitaa I didn't share, but it
certainly added to my total collapse. I didn't even
have the strength to communicate with Livia and Narisha
-- I figured to surprise them, anyway.
We escaped demon waters without further danger, and
skirted hazardous areas on the way back. I was grateful
that I wasn't called out to fight off pirates or fish-
people or even a cloud of fierce mosquitoes, and the
sight of the teeming open sore that was Stoneburg was
one that I never thought I would be happy to see.
The place simply wasn't the same. The buildings seemed
even more run-down, the streets even more filthy, the
inns even less appealing. Even the women looked tawdry.
Slowly, in a fog, I walked down Skate's gangway and,
accompanied by one of Kamaz's larger and more
threatening crewmen, hocked a soul-gem to a wide- eyed
nobleman for about half what it was worth.
Even so, I received enough chinking, gleaming coins to
pay off Kamaz, her crew and Odo with a substantial
bonus, make a large contribution to Xitaa's temple, and
drop another bundle to a Phaedran priest to rejoin
Stef's sundered remains and nurse him back to health. I
chewed my nails to the elbow for several hours waiting
to see if the spells took, and finally the priest
returned with a beatific smile to inform me that my
friend "would be fine."
"Is he awake?" I asked, worriedly eyeing the door to
the infirmary.
"Oh no," the priest said sadly, no doubt figuring in
his head how many women my gold would entice to the
temple that evening, and whether he'd have to settle
for sloppy seconds after the grand patriarch. "An
injury of this magnitude... He'll sleep for days. Shall
I send him to you when he awakens?"
"No!" I said hastily, almost leaping to my feet, then
calmed myself forcibly. "I mean, don't say anything
about me." I held out a pouch full of gold and very
pretty gems. "But do give him this, please."
The priest grabbed the pouch a hair too fast for my
tastes.
"And," I added, ominously, "if he tells me that he
received one copper groat less than what's in there,
I'm coming back with an army of Jarreks and burn this
festering boil of a temple to the ground."
I heard the priest begin to respond indignantly, "My
good man how dare you..."
But by then I was gone.
The final phase of my mission had arrived. With
puppyish eagerness (for which I thoroughly despised
myself) I hurried to Livia's, the crown still safe in
my pack.
Thankfully, her sprites recognized me and let me in. I
walked through her long, marble entry hall, feeling the
satisfaction of a job accomplished, and the fevered
anticipation of pleasures to come.
Livia was busy shelving books in her library as I
entered. She was dressed in a white gown, her pale hair
gleaming in the sunlight. To my own senses, narrowed
down only to the thought of at last seeing her again,
the library seemed a bit brighter and warmer than the
tarnished city outside.
"Hello, Livia," I said.
When she turned, her pale blue eyes met mine. She
caught her breath, then flung herself at me.
"Wulf!" She cried, embracing me with sufficient
strength to crack my ribs. "Why didn't you contact us?"
she demanded, fixing me with a stern gaze, the pale
blue growing slightly clouded. "I was afraid you'd
been..."
"No," I replied. "But what did happen is a long story.
From what I'm given to understand, however, Stef will
survive, but he'll have a scar all the way around his
neck."
"Ah." She looked contrite. "Any other casualties?"
"Well, almost me, but for the intervention of the
Mother of All Battles. But I'll tell you later. Where's
Narisha?"
Livia's eyes narrowed. "In the bedroom. Care to see
her?"
I grinned. "Love to. Lead on."
She didn't lead me to the bedroom, however. We ended up
in her scrying room and uncovered one of her crystals.
(Damme, she could watch any corner of her house! I
hadn't realized.) The sight revealed was both maddening
and sweetly familiar.
Narisha was on her hands and knees, naked save for a
slender chain around her waist, and various anklets and
bracelets. A slender, boyishly handsome young man was
positioned behind her, pushing a similarly slender, but
quite long, cock into her, while she kept her tongue
busy between the legs of a black-skinned, silver haired
woman with plump breasts and long legs.
"Your poet?" I asked.
Livia nodded.
"The woman?"
"Dark elf noblewoman," Livia replied. "A friend of mine
who happened to drop by. Very entertaining woman."
"I imagine. Hope she's less homicidal than the other
dark elves I've met."
"Ha, ha. Anyway, she'd never had a demon before, and
"Looks as if the demon's having her." I frowned. "If
we're going to be voyeurs, can we get sound on this
thing as well?"
Livia made a gesture, and I heard Narisha's voice,
harmonizing with the moans of her two companions.
"Sweet little elf," she whispered, then dipped her head
to lap at the wet black flesh. "My sweet little
princess." The poet moaned deeply.
"My boy want to come?" she asked alluringly. "Come for
your lover."
On cue, the young one contorted in orgasmic ecstasy,
clutching Narisha's fleshy buttocks and wailing
incoherently.
"Yes, yes," whispered Narisha. "You come so well for
your lover..." Then she was back to work on the elf.
"Damn," I muttered.
"What?"
"The stupid red-skinned tart still has me," I growled.
My breeches were tight as a drumhead. Again. "You feel
the same?"
Livia nodded, looking vaguely embarrassed. "I think the
spell wore off a long time ago, though," she said.
"This appears to be real, now."
"Grrr," I said. "Well, shall we go inform her of my
triumphant return when she's finished?"
Livia considered this. "That could be hours yet," she
replied, "and in all honesty I'd rather have you to
myself for a while."
I didn't argue. She glided to her knees and loosened my
belt, pulling out my now-tumescent organ with
experienced fingers.
"I've missed you," she whispered, planting kisses along
the hot flesh. "Oh, how I've missed you."
I gave myself up to her touches, and we were soon fully
interwoven, the sounds of Narisha and her other lovers'
passions filling our ears.
Narisha's companions had retired when we sought her
out, the dark elf (whose name, I learned, was Daedora,
and was related to the deadly Lady Thae'lynn only very
distantly) to her chambers, and the poet to wherever
poets go. Narisha lay in all her naked glory,
inadequately covered by black silk sheets, dozing and
breathing shallowly.
I kissed her gently, and her yellow eyes flickered
open.
"Swordsman!" she cried, in a tone reminiscent of
Livia's. I was gratified.
"Through fire and water, I have returned," I said,
quoting a White Empire warrior's traditional phrase, or
some such balderdash. I held out the crown. "Yours, I
believe?"
She snatched it up and inspected it.
"Darling man!" she declared, throwing her head back and
howling with joy. Her breasts heaved disconcertingly. I
noticed that she'd changed her nipple gem to a gleaming
black stone.
"And you'll be happy to learn that Duke Janus is
history," I said, "thanks to your generous offer of the
sword."
She grinned broadly. "Kneel down, freelance," she said.
"I want to see it all."
I complied, as Livia sat on the bed nearby. Narisha
placed her hands on my temples, and I felt the past
weeks' experiences flickering from my mind into hers.
Narisha's face underwent a variety of interesting
contortions, all of them pleasant. "Oh!" she exclaimed.
"Yes! Oh!"
When we reached the interlude with Orchid, she closed
her eyes and sighed.
"A faerie woman! I should have known."
She took her hands away and savored the sensations I'd
sent her.
"You both did well," she said. "Or should I say, all
five of you?"
I shrugged. "She seemed to take energy from all of us
and give it back. I'm not entirely sure what really
happened."
"Faeries are empathic," said Livia. "They absorb the
emotions and sensations of those around them. The more
partners they have, the more sensation and pleasure
they gain."
"They're very fond of orgies," Narisha said, wistfully.
"You and Stef apparently pumped in enough sensation to
recharge her magical abilities," Livia said with all
the aplomb of a sorcery instructor at the academy.
Narisha continued to review my adventures. When she
reached the battle with Janus' warriors, the bloodlust
I'd seen in her wild eyes as she killed Niall returned,
and when she witnessed Janus' death, her face
transformed somewhat, taking on the bewhiskered
appearance of the black and red striped tiger-like
creature. A snarl escaped her throat.
Then she was back to normal, and followed the story up
to that magical encounter with Xitaa.
"Ohhh," she muttered softly as her hips began to
gyrate, jouncing the bed up and down somewhat. "Oh, so
beautiful..."
I'm not sure if she came or not at the end of the
scene, but she certainly seemed to enjoy it.
"Such a lovely creature, your priestess," she said.
"Perhaps she can join us someday."
"Well, in the first place, she only does it after she's
killed someone," I replied. "And in the second place, I
think she prefers men."
"I can show her the error of her ways," Narisha purred.
We finished my mental narration, and I looked up to see
her smiling prettily, gazing down at me with
unconcealed affection.
"My darling, darling," she whispered, stroking my
cheek. "I'm yours forever."
I smiled back. "I'll believe it when I see it, love."
CHAPTER XV
----------
We ate an early supper by candlelight, joined by
Daedora, who took her food quietly and delicately,
speaking little, but occasionally fixing me with the
smoldering gaze of her pale, white eyes. Narisha
excused herself to clean up and prepare for our
official reunion in her bedchamber, and Daedora said
she needed some rest (given the force and volume of the
orgasm I'd heard from her, I well believed it), leaving
Livia and me alone in the dining room.
"Well," I said at last. "What now?"
"What do you mean?" Livia's blue eyes sought me out;
her blonde hair reflected dimly in the candlelight.
"I mean, this isn't the most orthodox of arrangements -
- you, me, her. I need a little guidance, or at least
some idea of what the hell I'm doing. Have you got any
idea where we should go from here?"
She shrugged. "I've done well over the past few years
living day to day," she replied. "I see no reason to
stop now."
"I'm afraid that I don't really have that option," I
said. "The fact is that Stoneburg believes I'm dead. If
I show my face anywhere and prove that I am, in fact,
alive, the authorities might start asking me some tough
questions about Scrutator Niall's mysterious
disappearance, among other things. I can't stay in this
city."
Livia looked stricken. "Are you saying you're leaving?"
I touched her hand. "I'm saying that we should all
leave, for a while at least. A sea cruise will do us
some good, and let us get this twisted, bizarre
relationship straightened out. The Empire is beautiful
this time of year, and there are beaches in Xesh where
no one ever goes besides jarrek beachcombers."
She considered this. "How long?"
"As long as you want," I said. "I've made an offer to
Kamaz for Skate, and I suspect she's willing to take
it."
"We'll need a crew."
"Always the practical one, my love." I leaned back and
stretched. "I just want you to think about it and tell
me."
She nodded, then smiled. "Tomorrow," she said. "We'll
worry about it tomorrow."
CHAPTER XVI
-----------
Memories of that night are rather fuzzy to me. Narisha
and Livia had obviously planned it for some time. The
bedroom was softly lit by blue stargems. Incense glowed
redly, filling the room with fragrance. The three of us
lay on the bed in an indiscriminate tangle, touching,
kissing, licking and sucking without regard for who was
who.
Was that Narisha's tongue, or was it Livia's, which
hotly stroked my cheek? Whose hand gently brushed my
chest? Did I gently suck at Livia's nipple or
Narisha's? (Oops -- my teeth bit solidly on polished
stone must be Narisha.) As I kissed one tender mouth
and felt another caress my cock, I realized that I
didn't care.
The bedchamber was like another world, separate from
the city and the sea and the shores beyond. There, we
came together in limitless combinations, finding new
truths in the simple geometries of passion. In the
dark, incense-perfumed depths of that small room we
journeyed to different realms, each finding universes
within the confines of the others' bodies.
The passion didn't stop after Livia came to a moist,
heart-stopping climax, or when Narisha cried out like a
soul in torment, her succulent cunt grasping my cock
like a fist, or even when I splashed hot come across
Livia's breasts and belly, and Narisha slowly and
luxuriantly licked them clean.
As I said, the women had prepared for this moment.
Livia shared a thick green concoction with us, which
restored our vitality in a moment, and sent us into the
throes of new passions.
Livia and I took turns lapping at Narisha's wet, black
cunt lips, holding her between us, forcing her to
climax after climax, drenching us in her intoxicating
demonic fluids.
Then, it was Livia's turn. Narisha held her wrists and
whispered hotly in her ear as I thrust my organ deeply
inside her, feeling her come around me, moaning and
begging for more.
Gods, that potion must have added a bit of enthusiasm,
I realized as I took my place between the two women,
watching them share my cock between their two sets of
pouting lips and flickering tongues, breaking off now
and then to kiss each other deeply and stroke each
other's bodies. I couldn't hold out long with this kind
of treatment, and poured forth once more, my body
tensing and convulsing. They shared my seed as well,
licking from each other's faces.
They left me alone for a time as they pleasured each
other and I watched the two supple bodies, scarlet and
white, sliding together, kissing, sucking, licking...
I felt something of what Orchid must have felt as my
own brain and heart echoed with my two lovers' orgasms,
and I sighed deeply, happy for myself and for them.
This went on for the rest of the night. I suspect that
potion was rather valuable, and we must have consumed
over half of it.
My exertions didn't get any easier, either. Claiming to
have been kept awake by our moaning, groaning and
sighing, Daedora slid in to bed with us, sleekly naked,
her black skin blending into the fragrant shadows.
I had forgotten the sweet delicacy of elven flesh and
its enticing qualities. This particular dark elf was
somewhat less wicked than the last one I'd been with,
so I was able to make love to her without fearing for
my life. The four of us were at it until dawn, when
Daedora left us to lie in exhaustion.
As I drifted off to sleep, I remember speculating about
what an impressive orgy we would have with me, Stef,
and the still-nameless poet on one side, and my two
lovers, Orchid and Daedora on the other. Perhaps if she
had killed an orc or two, Rexxara might be persuaded to
join in.
We dragged ourselves out of bed around noon and took
some sustenance. I explained my plans for Skate and a
pleasant sea journey to Narisha, and to Livia, who
seemed to have forgotten all about them, for some
reason.
"The money from those damned ghost-gems will keep us in
luxury for years," I said, "and we can sail that ship
anywhere. Livia, you can let your poet manage your
place in your absence, or something."
Narisha looked sad and wistful. "It sounds wonderful,
my dearest lover," she said, her once-fearful voice
tinged with tenderness and sorrow, "but I can't stay
here."
If she'd shoved a dagger into my heart I wouldn't have
been more surprised. Livia looked the same way, staring
speechlessly.
Our demoness bowed her head. "I have to go back. I have
to return the crown. I doubt that my father will allow
me to return."
I was about to start babbling questions, suggestions,
and ways out of the dilemma when a booming voice echoed
from behind us.
"Perhaps not."
A tall, powerful and devastatingly handsome male demon
stood in the doorway to the dining room. He was clad in
a simple leather jacket and breeches, and many of his
living blue tattoos matched Narisha's. I was just
noting that his taste in clothing was far more
tolerable than Narisha's or Janus', when Narisha
squealed.
"Daddy!"
Of course.
"Lord Cammon the Flayer?" I asked, rising to my feet.
"The same," he rumbled. "I prefer Lord Cammon the Just,
however, and don't believe those stories about my
burning Mie and killing the Nine Adepts, either. Pure
propaganda."
"Come sit," Livia said, hastily, offering a chair.
"Care for some breakfast? Uh, or is it lunchtime?"
He shook his magnificent, goat-horned head. "I'm just
passing through to collect some property."
"A certain crown?" I asked.
"You guessed it. Not bad for a human."
"How did you get here?" Livia demanded. "This house is
warded to hell and back."
He shrugged, approaching the table. "I'm a better
sorcerer than you are. Now, about that crown?"
I retrieved it from the bedroom and handed it to him.
He took it with a grateful nod. Narisha had been
uncharacteristically silent through all of this,
staring with mounting concern, first at me, then at
Cammon.
"I'm so sorry, daddy," she babbled at last, looking
more troubled and uncertain than I'd ever seen her. "I
know I was supposed to look after it, and it was a lot
of responsibility, and you said you'd be really upset
if I lost it, but..."
He waved a hand. "But you dropped the runestick. Yes, I
know. You almost lost us everything, daughter. But in
the end it had a positive effect. Your frail little
human friend here sliced my greatest enemy into
lunchmeat, and we're all the more powerful for it. I
forgive you."
She stared without immediate comprehension. "You do?"
He nodded. "Of course, I can't let your transgressions
go unpunished."
Narisha closed her eyes and made a face, steeling
herself for the worst.
"Go ahead, daddy," she said. "I'm ready."
Instead of addressing her directly, he turned to me.
"Human, you've done me a great service," he said,
placing a massive paw on my shoulder. "You consider my
daughter a friend."
I swallowed. "More than that, my lord. I... I love her
very much. Both she and you have helped me to
understand your kind, and I know now that you're
intelligent, rational and sensitive beings like us. For
that, I'm grateful."
"If you consider us sensitive, you're dead wrong,
human. We're a pretty gamey lot, actually. In fact,
we're just as bad as you are. In any event, you're a
fit companion for my daughter."
He turned to Livia. "And you? Do you feel the same
way?"
Livia seemed reluctant to respond.
Cammon made an impatient gesture. If he'd had an axe in
his hand, he'd have decapitated me. "Don't worry, I
don't share the prejudices of your narrow-minded
priestly types. Are you lovers?"
Livia colored. "Y-yes, my lord. I love her, too."
"Good." Cammon looked at Narisha. "Daughter, as your
punishment, I decree that you roam the world for a
period of not less than five years. You may retain all
your powers, ranks and privileges, but you may not
return to our estates during that time. I give you into
the care of these two humans, and hope that you can
learn from each other."
Narisha's eyes sprang open, and she smiled, throwing
her arms around her father's shoulders. "Daddy! I love
you!" she declared.
Actually, Cammon did stay for lunch, eating roast boar
and greens with manners completely unlike his daughter.
By the end of the meal, I was actually developing quite
a fondness for the old bastard. He was practically my
father-in-law, after all.
Cammon bid us a warm farewell, kissed his daughter and
embraced Livia and me, then mumbled a spell and was
gone.
"Well," I said. "That's that."
Just then, Daedora wandered gracefully into the room,
clad in one of the lacy, revealing numbers of which
dark elves seem so fond. After Thae'lynn, I was glad
Daedora had no fondness for body piercings. Narisha's
nipple ring was quite enough for me.
"Good morning," she said, sweetly. "Have we all
recovered?"
"Hello, my sweet little elf," Narisha said, pressing a
finger to her chin and looking thoughtful. "By the way,
have you ever sailed a ship?"
CHAPTER XVII
------------
Skate set sail four days later, riding the warm trade
winds south, toward the vast and decadent expanses of
the White Empire, and the pale, sandy beaches of Xesh.
Livia was our nominal captain, owing to extensive
sailing experience while roaming the outer sea as a
teenager, and the fact that she could command her
sprites to do much of the shipboard work. The rest of
the crew included myself, Narisha, Daedora (no, she'd
never sailed a ship, but she was willing to learn --
besides, she told us, the sex was the best she'd ever
had), Stef (I talked him into it, but I had to let him
thrash me a little bit first), Odo (he had all the
nautical skill of a small piece of lint, but he was a
hell of a fighter), and a number of Skate's old crew,
who couldn't bear to leave the old gal.
The gleaming blue water of the southern seas spread out
before us, and the sails bellied before a stiff breeze.
I stood with Livia at the bow, watching a pair of
dolphins swim and cavort, gleaming blue in our bow-
wave. I wondered if we'd see any merrow on the trip.
The possibilities seem endless.
"How's your eye?" Livia asked. She was dressed in
shipboard style breeches and boots and a loose, roomy
shirt. Looking at her, I reflected that she was shaping
up into a fairly decent captain.
"Not bad," I replied. "At least I can open it now." The
black eye actually, it was a variety of exciting colors
by now -- was a gift from Stef, who had managed to
track me down despite my best efforts to the avoid
detection. Another sack of gold had mollified him
somewhat, or had at least prevented him from killing
me. At length, he'd agreed to help sail Skate,
especially when I told him that we might go pay Orchid
a visit. That morning, I had heard the crew making bets
as to which part of his body he'd lose next.
"I'm glad," Livia replied. "Your eyes are precious."
I chuckled. "So are yours," I said. "So is all of you.
So is Narisha. So are Stef, and Daedora, and Odo, and
the rest of the crew.
Hell, we're in pretty good shape, aren't we?"
She nodded, smiling. "I've been reading your memoirs."
"Oh, really?" I asked, somewhat incensed. "They're not
really finished yet. What did you think?"
"You use too many similes, but the basic style is
competent. You do tend to portray yourself as a female-
magnet, however. I find the lurid details of your sex
life less than believable."
"Gee, thanks," I replied sourly. "I bet I got the stuff
with you right, though."
For once, she didn't respond. We watched the dolphins
in silence for a time. I squinted toward the horizon.
"So where to first, captain? The fleshpots of the
Empire? The deserted beaches of Xesh where two or more
broad- minded individuals could make love in the sun
for hours on end? The Green Archipeligo where you can
rent a jungle villa for a mere pittance and wander
around naked all day? The Cold Isles where you can
cavort wildly in the snow? The Lastlands? The Desert
Lands? Litharna? Murvane? The Veldt Lands? Anywhere
else your heart desires?"
She sighed. "I don't know. I don't care. Anywhere, as
long as you're there."
"And Narisha?"
"And Narisha. And maybe Daedora, too."
I put my head in my hands. "Is the triangle about to
become a square?" I asked.
"Hm. Could be," Livia replied. "Anything's possible.
Narisha's with her in the cabin right now. By the way,
I have a present for you."
I looked at her and raised my eyebrows expectantly.
"Yes?"
She reached into a pocket and proffered a small stone
carving which glimmered in rainbow hues.
I took it. Eish, Xeshite, erotic...
"The one I stole from Tev," I said.
She nodded, smiling. "I thought it might have
sentimental value," she said. "Now, since our other two
lovers are otherwise occupied, what say you we retire
to your cabin by ourselves?"
Oh, hell, I thought. I must have attracted all the
bizarre fortune that other people missed. I sighed,
pocketing the figure, figuring that it was about time
that I just accepted things. After all, I was alive,
relatively wealthy, and in love. With two (three, now?)
women.
Gods, Narisha had done a job on us. But I still loved
her, even if she was back in her cabin even now, making
violent love to a dark elf woman. Besides, Daedora had
possibilities as well. I squeezed Livia gently and
kissed her briefly on the lips, then followed her
gently swaying form back amidships. I loved them all,
and if they loved each other, so much the better.
Damn, but love is strange.
END
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. 4-million people around the world
contract HIV every year. You only have one body per
lifetime, so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 50