The Demon Crown by Wulf (MFF, fantasy)

I got this from Kristen’s archives and thought it was pretty hot (though I haven’t quite finished it).

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 somet

NEXT POST

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 di