The Red and the Green [1/5] (erotic S&S, mf, mmmf, ffffffffm, etc.)
Anthony
["The Red and the Green" is the third in a series of
erotic sword-and-sorcery tales featuring the adventures of
knockabout adventurer Wulf the Freelance (the first two being
"Heart of the Lion" and "Jungle Moons." As with previous
installments, this story was inspired by, and is something of
an homage to, such diverse writers and artists as Fritz
Leiber (Fafhrd & the Grey Mouser), Alexandre Dumas (The
Three Musketeers), Stephen Brust (the Vlad Taltos series),
George MacDonald Frasier (the Flashman series), Bill
Willingham (Ironwood, an adult graphic fantasy published by
Eros press), Jack Vance (fantasy master and author of more
tales than I can count), and many others, who represent
talent and clarity of vision to which the author of the
current work can only aspire.
The current story involves Wulf in the Great War between
the goblins and their allies and the elvish isles. It
includes various acts of hetero and lesbian sex, fetishism
(lotsa body piercings), bestiality (woman/tiger,
woman/unicorn, but she's a dark elf, and they're... well...
different), and sex with minotaurs (three with one woman --
that damned dark elf again...), winged sky-women, daemons,
elves, animated statues, small household appliances, etc.,
all described in what is hopefully a tasteful and relatively
inoffensive manner. As usual, this story contains neither
rape, pedophilia, necrophilia, or any of those other nasty
philias which I suggest you find elsewhere if that's what you
need to get excited. It does, however, contain characters
rutting like frenzied wildebeests, so I hope that everyone on
the net enjoys this and, as usual, your comments are
appreciated...
Oh, yeah -- BTW, there are a FEW kinda unusual couplings
in here (involving chains and rings, for example) which are
described NOT from personal experience, but from my rather
strange imagination. These exist as fantasy sexual sequences,
and I suppose that with the proper care and preparation they
might work okay, but I most assuredly DO NOT recommend them,
and thought that I would include the requisite caveat not to
try this at home, or to know what you're doing and have a lot
of experience before attempting any particularly kinky or
unusual procedures. I also don't recommend bestiality as a
long-term sexual lifestyle, and write about it here as
fantasy only. Then again, I'm probably being pretty arrogant
in assuming you would try anything sexual just because you'd
read it in my story, but I'm including this paragraph just to
keep my conscience untroubled, okay?
Also, if there are any talented artists out there who
might enjoy illustrating some of the characters and goings-on
in the various Wulf epics, I encourage you to do so. I am
also in the process of publishing a small-press collection of
erotical called "Phantasm" and am always on the lookout for
artists and writers. Those interested may write to me at
lu...@agora.rdrop.com. Thanx!
H H And FINALLY, here's the legal stuff, which I've been
told I should REALLY include for form's sake (not that I
don't trust you all, of course): "The Red and the Green" is
(c)1995 by Anthony Pryor-Brown. It may be freely distributed
by electronic media. Hard copies are limited to those made
for personal use, only. So There.]
Wulf
Historians claim that the so-called Great War between
the goblins and the elven isles was a clash of mighty
empires, a struggle to the death between green-skinned
barbarians and pale, noble warriors of an ancient and
decadent civilization. It is said that the gods themselves
watched over the conflict, as the fate of entire races hung
in the balance.
Well, I saw a good portion of the conflict, and I'm
here to tell you that the historians are full of troll dung.
The Great War was a huge joke, the result of goblinish
stupidity on one hand, and arrogant elven intransigence on
the other. In the middle were thousands of innocent civilians
who never gave a foul fuck who ran the show, but who got to
bear the brunt of the territorial ambitions of a bunch of
goblin and orc warlords, and the stupid pride and rigid
traditionalism of the elf-lords.
Exactly how I, a knockabout human freelance thief, got
involved in this particular spat, is a long and somewhat
involved story. Suffice to say that I was trying to get back
to civilized -- that is, human -- territory after
participating in an ill-advised White Empire assault on the
Veldt Lands. Sole survivor of the army of idiots and misfits
which had been put out of its misery by the local tribesmen
known as the Sholanti, I managed to make my way to Xesh, by
way of a lusty Sholanti amazon, a vampiric daemoness, and a
perverse Xeshite noblewoman. Oh, yes -- most of this time I
was in the form of a lion-man, the result of a bad joke
played on me by a Sholanti sorcerer. In my varied and
acrobatic tussels with the aforementioned Xeshite woman
(actually with her masochistic and relatively insatiable
female slave, but that's a long story), and in the palace
coup which had nearly killed her, I'd managed to regain my
human form, and was as a result cut loose with a full purse
and nowhere to go.
Xesh is one of the oldest human nations, with the
possible exception of the White Empire, which has gone
through so many changes and permutations that no one knows
what the hell it is, and is isolated from the other human
islands. Between there and the relative safety of Litharna,
Stoneburg, the Empire, and various other human nations, lie
the Dragon Isles, various renegade demon realms, Jarrek
territories, wolfen colonies, Kaitian city-states, rocky
lands inhabited by dwarves and similar vermin, and, of
course, the Elven Empire.
Perhaps a few words about elves are in order here.
H HPhysically, they resemble humans, though they are somewhat
taller and more slender, but remain as strong or stronger
than the human average. They are enormously long-lived (some
appear to be immortal, while others number their life-spans
in milennia). As a rule, elves are both beautiful and
graceful -- and they know it, too, which is my major problem
with the manky little gits.
The fact is that most elves are arrogant snots. Elves
are long-lived, beautiful, intelligent, skilled in magic,
capable of producing amazing works of art and astonishing
architecture, terrifying in war, and -- as most outsiders
note immediately upon meeting them -- deeply and sincerely
convinced that all non-elves are pond scum. Humans are
short-lived, vulgar little monkeys; dwarves are short, ugly,
dirt-grubbers; wolfen are animals; orcs and goblins are
lower than cockroaches, and just as deserving of quick
extermination; kaitians are pretty but stupid; centaurs are
freaks, though they can be useful as allies; nymen, throgs,
ogres, jarreks, and all the other races are hulking mutants,
cursed by the gods, and living in utter misery since they
can't be just like the elves.
After all, who wouldn't want to be an elf, possessed of
endless capacity for joy and sorrow, graced with etherial
beauty, and beloved of the great gods themselves? An elf is
(at least in his own opinion) the living embodiment of
beauty, grace, intelligence, and mystical knowledge. All
other races are at best only pale shadows, and at worst,
enemies to be crushed, conquered or exterminated.
Not that the elves were especially united against the
nasty creatures of the world. Though they supposedly
controlled an empire, under the undying rulership of their
queen, the Silver Lady, their realm was periodically
fractured by petty rivalries, intrigue, and outright wars
between their various lords, who fought each other on the
thinnest of pretexts. I think, in fact, that they enjoyed
fighting each other more than they enjoyed fighting humans,
dwarves, orcs, nymen, and all the others. Although the elves
generally considered themselves at war with the world, their
most insidious and dangerous foe was themselves.
Gods, those bastards annoyed me. And, little did I know,
I was on a collision course with the pointy-eared little
twerps.
Upon departure from Countess Xylara's estate, she'd
provided me with a bag of coins and a small one-man felucca,
which we'd christened "Alrynna" for Xylara's most submissive
little slave-cupcake. She was in good condition, and after
saying quiet (and depressingly non-carnal) goodbyes to Alrynna,
Xylara, and her sister Nineh (hot piece, that -- see
my previous memoir), I shoved off into the crystal-blue
waters of the Ylambrian Gulf..
I wasn't sorry to see Xesh vanish off my stern as a
stiff breeze propelled me due east. The Veldt Lands had been
difficult, but at least the dangers I faced were concrete
and real. Xesh, on the other hand, was an old nation, where
H Hno one was what they seemed, and new conspiracies lurked
around every ornate, carved alabaster corner. It might have
been a good place for me to hide under other circumstances,
but I was weary of intrigue and conspiracy, and just wanted
to get back to a pleasant little pallet over a bustling
tavern, sleep all day, roam all night, make passes at women,
and try to teach the roaches a few rudimentary dance steps.
Gods -- maybe three weeks away. I could almost taste the
ale.
Once more, however, nothing went the way I hoped. If it
did, I suppose I wouldn't have much of a story to tell you,
so from the reader's vantage point, all my misfortune and
misery is for the best. Hope you enjoy it.
For the first ten days, things went well. The weather
was generally good, though I had to weather a squall about
four days out of Xesh, lashed to Alrynna by a new rope (I
wasn't about to stake my life on a spliced line), feeling the
small vessel pitch and roll, climbing sickeningly up one
swell then plunging down another.
I was getting thoroughly tired of fish, though in this
area they were kind enough to actually fling themselves into
the boat, thus saving me the tedious task of actually
catching them. I was determined to maintain some vestige of
gracious living, and grilled my fish each morning and
evening on a small brazier, lit with a minor cantrip, one of
the few I'd managed to retain before washing out of the
Magic Academy several years previously, and husbanded a
small stock of radishes, carrots, oranges and chup-fruit,
consuming enough to spruce up my dull meals, and to ward off
scurvy.
Sharks followed me constantly, and I made deals with
them to the effect that if I threw them enough scraps, they
wouldn't bother eating me if I ever fell in. I frankly
didn't
believe their assurances of agreement, and suspected they
were trying to lull me into a false sense of security.
There was a bad moment when a massive creature with a
back-pattern like an elves-and-dragons board scraped along
just beneath the surface, scratching itself on my keel. It
didn't seem terribly hostile, but its affections threatened
to inadvertently swamp me. I was grateful when the big
lummox chose to move along.
I'd also had the presence of mind to purchase a set of
up-to-date nautical charts, and had debated whether or not
to skirt the elven isles. Though the elves weren't known for
their hospitality toward lone travelers, it was probably
safer than the various goblin realms which lay to the south,
or the chaos-lands which clustered in ever-changing patterns
north of the elf-kingdoms. I was still debating exactly what
course to take when it happened.
For several days I'd been experiencing thick morning
sea-fogs. They actually proved quite pleasant, sealing me in
a humid blanket, turning the sun into a pale disk, and
making me feel as if I wasn't really alone amid trackless
ocean. It was cold, but I'd brought oilskins, furs and
blankets treated with water-repellent magic, so I remained
bundled up during the morning hours, listening to the creak
of the rigging and the gentle slap of the water. So long as
a fog was up, I was also assured that the weather wouldn't
be turning inclement, so it provided me with additional
security.
This morning proved no exception. I sat amidships,
swaddled in blankets, waiting for the fog to dissipate so
that I could take a sun-sighting, and possibly make
breakfast (a dozen more of those stupid winged fish had
managed to strand themselves on the boat the night before).
As I listened idly to the familiar sounds of my vessel, I
realized that I heard something else. Off in the distance,
muffled by the fog, but still plain, sounded the creak of
another vessel's rigging, and the rhythmic splash of oars.
And they were getting steadily louder.
I leaped out of my cocoon of furs and blankets just in
time to see a dark shape bearing down on me out of the fog.
I flung myself against the rudder, sending Alrynna veering
off to port, heeling heavily to one side, nearly capsizing,
then surging up and down in the bow-wash of the gigantic
vessel which now slid ponderously past me, oars moving like
the legs of a giant spider. One of them came down heavily
across Alrynna's bow, and she broke deep, water pouring over
her gunwales.
I pulled away, shaking with relief as the bow popped up
above the waves, only to feel the entire vessel lurch
sideways yet again as the wake struck me. This time, poor
Alrynna wasn't equal to the task, and the ungracefully turned
turtle, spilling me, my meager collection of fruits and
vegetables, my blankets and furs, the little brazier, and
the dozen or so dead flying fish into the foaming water.
I struggled to retain my composure as I watched my boat
slip beneath the waves, then bob up only to be stove in by
another descending oar. With a curse, I saw one of the oars
coming down like a sweeping scythe, smashing down upon me
before I could splash out of the way. Gods, you've done it
to me again, I thought as I slipped beneath the cold
waves...
* * * *
My first thought upon waking was wonderment at still
being alive. Then I opened my eyes and wished that I wasn't.
I was on the quarterdeck of a ship, black sails billowing
overhead, was being held roughly upright, sagging in the grip
of two grim-looking individuals in black leather armor, and
was the object of attention for a small crowd of similar
beings. Outwardly, they looked human enough, save for their
wicked-looking armor and distant, somewhat cold expressions.
H HIt was their skin which I noticed first, then their hair.
They were all jet-black. Not meaning negroid, like the
Veldtlanders, mind you -- I mean actually black, the color
of polished obsidian. Their hair was silver, in shining
contrast, kept in long braids, elaborate coifs, or hanging
loose below their shoulders. There were both males and
females, staring at me with dark blue, violet or black eyes.
The ears were the final piece of the puzzle -- pointed as a
Necrotian obelisk.
Dark elves. I'd fallen in with the bright elves' ebon-skinned
cousins, a pack of deviants just as evil and perverse
as their blonde-haired relatives were arrogant and
obnoxious.
"Uhhh," I began, but was interrupted by one of the male
elves stalking forward, grabbing my hair and yanking my head
back roughly.
"Speak only when spoken to, grubber," he hissed, using a
common pejorative for humans. "Or you will die much, much
sooner."
With that kind of incentive, I was only too happy to
obey. I kept my mouth shut and listened sullenly as the dark
elf began to speak, pacing back and forth in front of me.
He was a particularly cruel-looking specimen, face disfigured
by a long, ugly scar, his dark-eyed glare further emphasized
by the black dragon-helm which crouched on his brow. His
armor was studded with brass discs, bearing various runes
and icons, and a curved sword, bristling with barbs and
spikes, rode at his belt.
"Tell us what you are doing here, human," he said at
last. "And tell the truth, or it will go badly for you."
"I'm a traveler bound for Litharna or Stoneburg," I
said. "I just happened to run into your ship --"
"LIAR!" he bellowed, slapping me across the face. He hit
pretty hard, too -- for an elf, anyway. "You're a spy in the
pay of the Silver Lady, sent to count our ships and spy on
us! Admit it!"
"No!" I replied, seeing visions of my skin being
removed, an inch at a time, while the dark elves laughed and
roasted lizards on my funeral pyre. "I was sailing from Xesh
--"
"LIAR!" the elf repeated, pulling out his sword and
holding it to my throat. "I know a spy when I see one! Admit
it, grubber! You're here to spy on our invasion fleet!"
I looked at him mildly. "Oh, you have an invasion
fleet?"
I thought he was going to explode at that, eyes bugging,
pasty face actually taking on a little bit of color. He drew
the sword back with an incoherent shriek. Gods, I thought,
this is it...
"Stop, captain," said a mild, obviously feminine voice
from nearby, and my would-be killer dropped his sword and
fell to one knee as if he'd been sapped by a gnome
kneebiter, instantly followed by the rest of the crew..
The crowd of dark elves parted, and a tall figure glided
H Hsmoothly through them. It was swathed in a dark purple
cloak, hooded, face lost in shadows and obscured by an
embroidered black veil. Two eyes, lambent violet, all that
was visible through the mask, regarded me with interest.
"Admiral!" barked the captain, eyes averted. "We
captured this spy --"
"I'll be the judge of whether he's a spy or not," the
admiral replied, standing before me like a graveyard
specter, face invisible, body hidden in dark purple folds.
"Clap him in irons and bring him to my quarters. I will
interrogate him."
The captain sprang to his feet, crossed his hands across
his chest. "I obey," he said, and motioned at the two dark
elf guards who still held me. "You heard the admiral! Chain
him and get him to her quarters. Be quick about it!"
As the guards manacled my wrists, then hustled me off
the deck, back toward the aft cabins, I realized that I'd
been saved once more, by a hairsbreadth. Of course, what
awaited me might be much worse, since I had always heard that
dark elf females are far more creative and sadistic than
their male counterparts.
We passed close to the railing, and I risked a peek over
the side to see if, by some miracle, we were close to land,
and I got another unpleasant shock. We were in the midst of
a great armada of black- or red-hulled vessels. They were
built in a variety of styles -- most were goblin battle-praus,
but there was a scattering of other vessels as well --
human corsair sloops, dark elf slave-galleys like the one I
was on, Slaerthist droges towed behind squirming teams of
sea-wyrms, and several others I didn't recognize. They all
bore dark banners or sails embroidered with evil images, and
several bustled with activity -- not everyone in this armada
disliked the open sun. I ducked back down, my heart racing.
What did they intend? From the look of them, they
weren't planning on attending a Saint Orlan's Day picnic
with the local Kyborist temple -- this was an invasion fleet
or I was a Nymen lint-merchant.
And it was no internecine squabble between goblin
chieftains, either. With this kind of assemblage, including
the unpredictable but deadly followers of Slaerth, human
reavers, orcs and goblins, it was obviously a major
undertaking, and it was plain as a pikestaff where they were
headed. The presence of the dark elf vessels was the
clincher -- they wouldn't participate in anything unless it
involved taking vengeance upon their arrogant cousins, the
white elves. In my indecision about sailing through elven
waters I'd managed to land smack in the middle of an
invading goblin horde and their various perverse allies.
And here I was in the clutches of the dark elf admiral.
Fucked again.
* * * *
Her cabin was a roomy chamber at the stern of the
vessel, one entire wall crafted of what appeared to be smoked
H Hglass, giving a panoramic view of the ocean behind us. The
sun was up, but the glass cut its glare, keeping the room in
the perpetual shadow that the dark elves favored. The
remainder of the cabin was done up in sombre shades --
purple, black, midnight blue, dark red. A long table covered
in charts and parchment documents occupied one side , while
her massive, round bed, surrounded by cut glass lamps
emitting dark blue light, occupied the other, with
comfortable padded chairs scattered in various locations.
She had the guards wait outside, and ushered me in, all
politeness and friendship (enough to make me damned nervous,
let me tell you).
"Sit." She indicated a padded chair, and I situated
myself in it as comfortably as my chained hands would allow.
She sat in a chair facing me, and threw back her hood,
unleashing a cascade of silver-white hair, smooth and
plentiful. Her mask remained on, concealing everything save
her eyes, which gazed at me coolly, like the White Emperor
regarding one of the caged creatures in his menagerie.
"I am Admiral Thae'lynn N'Quy," she said, "Keeper of the
Black Ring, Duchess of Darkoak Hill, and Mistress of the
Thirty-three Secrets."
I cleared my throat. "My name's Wulf, now-penniless
traveler with no impressive titles to speak of. I don't
suppose you'd be willing to divulge any of those thirty-three
secrets, would you?"
A muffled chuckle. "Perhaps if you're fortunate, human.
Now, as my captain so was so crudely trying to extract from
you, why are you here?"
I sighed. "I'll tell you what I told him. I'm a
traveler, bound from Xesh to the White Empire, or possibly
Stoneburg. Maybe even Litharna, assuming I suddenly develop
a taste for wearing doublet and hose. The fact that my boat
was crushed by your damned leviathan is no fault of mine. I
didn't know I was going to run into your armada on the way
to the Elven Isles --"
"Ah!" she interrupted me, raising a hand from the folds
of her cloak. It was long and graceful, covered with an
embroidered black glove. "So you know where we're going,
do you?"
Damn my stupid intuition... I tried to recover. "It
doesn't take a grand wizard to figure out where you're
going. The Elven Isles are the only target for an armada
this big, and if your kind are involved in anything, it must
involve doing mischief to your goody-goody cousins."
The eyes hardened. "My kind? What do you mean?"
"I mean da--" I bit off my reply, and racked my memory.
"I mean," I said at last, "the Zhalha'sarr'im." This was the
dark elves' name for themselves -- the common term was
considered a pejorative, and would probably have landed me
in the water, in small pieces. "Hm." The harsh look
softened, but did not vanish entirely. "You sound sincere,
mortal one."
Now, THAT was a pejorative for humans, referring to the
fact that we're relatively short-lived; mind you, dark elves
are not, in contrast, immortal, but they do live a mucking
long time. I've always wondered why elves, both light and
dark, have such long lives, but continue to have so little
sense. It puzzles me to this day.
Thae'lynn slowly pulled off one of her gloves, revealing
a jet black hand with sharp, silvered nails.
"I'm going to make sure you're telling the truth, Wulf,"
she said. "Now don't move, or I'll have my guards kill you."
That was always a great motivator for me -- I sat stock-still
as her ungloved hand reached out, fingers gently
brushing my forehead.
They say that dark elves enjoy inflicting pain. If that
is the case, the admiral must have enjoyed my torment
immensely, for a network of magical energy lanced through my
body, followed instantly by searing, hot pain, as if my very
being had been packed with hot coals. Despite her
admonition, I jerked back, crying out in agony, and fell to
the floor,
panting heavily as the pain receded, and the robed, masked
dark elf gazed mildly down at me.
"Hm," she repeated, and again I'd swear she gazed at me
as if I were a monkey in a cage. "Your thoughts are
interesting. Primitive but interesting. You've had quite a
time of it, haven't you?"
I cast a black glance up at her. "What the hell are you
asking for?" I spat. "You obviously just saw it." I felt as
if she'd just turned me inside-out and gazed at my insides.
She nodded. "Quite a life, human. Of course, I only
scanned most of it, but I think I managed to get a good
notion of what makes you tick. Washed-out sorcerer, sneak-thief,
mercenary, shape-changer, slave... My goodness, but
your time as a lion-man must have been stimulating." Her
tone dropped an octave or so on this last word, as if she
found the whole notion incredibly exciting.
"Yeah, yeah," I muttered, struggling back into the
chair, my heart slowly returning to its normal pace. "So can
I go now?"
"Oh, dear," she said in mock-distress. "I'm afraid not,
Wulf. You have seen our fleet, after all, and you do know
where we're bound. I'm certain you've surmised that I
command the naval end of the goblins' little enterprise.
You're a human, and by definition rather dull, but you must
know that our lovely, golden-haired cousins would probably
reward you richly if you told them about us."
The fact is that the notion hadn't even crossed my mind
-- I was more interested in getting home, but as I was
discovering, once an elf decides on something, it is
virtually impossible to get her (or him, for that matter) to
change course.
"So what's going to happen to me?" I asked, fearful of
the reply.
"Hm." There was that sound again. "I'll consider that in
more detail later. We're certainly always short of galley
slaves, and if you row well you might earn yourself a
promotion to house slave."
I'd had more than enough of being a slave lately, thanks
very much, but I bit my tongue and looked sullen.
"Oh, poor thing..." She sounded about as solicitous as
an ogre sitting down to a meal of live dwarf. "Well, perhaps
there are alternatives."
With that she rose, and turned to face the stern
windows. Her back was to me, silver hair set against the
dark
purple of her robe. Off in the distance I saw a goblin
battle-barge trundling along like a great, mutated turtle.
"As you may have noted, Wulf," Thae'lynn began, "the
males of my species are a particularly tiresome lot. In
terms of physical companionship, they're as apt to prefer each
other's company to those of their own women, and when they do
deign to join us in our beds they are rarely worth the
effort."
She spread her arms, holding out the dark cloak like
wings, then turned to face me.
"So, do you like what you see?" she asked.
I gaped. A response was probably unnecessary. Beneath
the cloak, she was naked, save for a long, black loincloth
hanging from a bangled belt which rode above her hips. I
suppose "naked" isn't entirely accurate, since she was
dressed in a number of items, not the least of which was her
mask, which still concealed her features. Her body was
slender and lean, but still clearly feminine, a statue carved
of pure jet. An elaborate necklace encircled her neck, hung
with bright silver spangles and black or purple gems. Her
breasts were small, with prominent, knobbed, dark purple
nipples, each of which was pierced by a straight silver bar,
with a tiny ball on each end. A small silver ring was set in
her navel, like a tiny star in the midst of the flat black
expanse of her abdomen.
"Enjoy the view, human," she whispered. "Not many are
privileged enough to see what you are about to see."
With that, she let the robe fall to the floor, and
removed her mask with her one still-gloved hand. Her face
was
delicate and oval, lips silvery-purple, cheeks rounded and
soft-looking. That wasn't really what I noticed, however --
her face bore a number of other small rings, set in her flesh
at various locations. Her eyebrows were the same white as
her hair, but each was studded with a dozen ring. Five more
decorated her nose -- two in each nostril, and one large one
in the center, and her mouth bore three more, a single ring
at one corner, and two at the other.
"Uhh," I said, dumbly. "Looks kind of painful."
She laughed, purple-black lips stretching into a rictus
of mirth. "Humans," she said, half endearment, half
contempt. "You can be such foolish animals."
She glided smoothly toward me, reaching out her gloved
hand to touch my cheek.
"As I said," she continued, "I find the males of my own
kind tiresome. Of course, there are always the women, who
are willing to oblige me in whatever debaucheries I can
imagine, but I fear that I'm hopelessly fond of the
diversions males provide."
"Seems like a sad dilemma," I agreed, uncomfortably
trying to avoid sexual excitement, and failing miserably.
Thae'lynn nodded. She stroked herself with her ungloved
hand, pricking at her nipple with a sharp forefinger. "So
what is a noblewoman to do? I've found that though males
give me what I desire, they need not be males of my own
species."
Uh-oh, I thought, a bloody Xenophile.
"I've shared moments with males of many different kinds
-- orcs, ogres, wolfen, kaitians... even some of the more
intelligent male animals -- wolves, tigers, shazzim... My,
my, they are so varied. I like an occasional human, as well.
You have such... mmm... primitive enthusiasm, especially
when you're well motivated."
"You mean motivated as in 'trying to keep themselves
alive or out of the mines'?" I asked.
"And such a quaint sense of humor," she continued,
dropping to her knees before me. "I sometimes think that you
humans are actually animals yourselves. Perhaps an especially
clever species of monkey. Maybe that's why you
excite me so."
Ha. In the clutches of a perverted dark elf admiral
who's turned on by animals. I wondered if grunting a little
would help. As it turned out, it didn't matter.
She tugged at my breeches and yanked them down, spilling
me onto the floor in the process. I landed heavily on my
chained wrists and yelped in pain.
"Ah, yes," she said, lying between my knees, holding my
erect cock in her gloved hand, stroking beneath it with a
sharp silver nail. "This is so lovely. It could use a ring
or two, however."
Why my erection didn't collapse in fear at that point, I
can't say. Perhaps it was the fact that the delicate touch
of her fingers drove out any thought save the most basic
sensation -- the slick silken touch of her glove, coupled
with the sharp, nearly painful scoring of her fingernail.
"So nice," she said, pouting purple lips set with
gleaming silver rings only an inch or so from my straining,
rapidly heating flesh. "It takes so much to get our males to
respond. You humans spring into action without so much as a
look... I find it so captivating."
A dark purple tongue slithered out from between rows of
sharp white teeth and flicked against my glans, tracing its
outline, sliding slowly down the back of my cock. I jumped
slightly when I saw that it, too, was pierced, with a long
silver barbel, but my apprehension melted as I felt it run
along the underside of my prick, sensation arcing outward.
Underneath me I felt my hands tingle, probably due to
the fact that most of my blood was needed elsewhere. I barely
suppressed a moan -- Gods dammit, this woman was
contemplating sending me to die in the slave galleys, and I
was letting her fuck me like an animal...
At that point I realized my irrational (that is to say,
sex-crazy) mind had pretty much taken over, and I didn't
care if the woman licking my cock was the Devil-Empress
Yilish herself -- I wanted her all the same, and wasn't
concerned about the consequences.
"You probably wonder why I have all the rings and bars
in my flesh," she said, conversationally, licking and
slurping at my cock, pausing periodically to slide it into
her wet, blue-black mouth. "I suppose it's all psychological.
Perhaps I do it to punish myself for denying
my own kind's males, turning instead to animals and inferior
races. It's like dream-smoke, you know -- it's an addiction.
When I got my first one, I just wanted more." She took a
hearty swallow at that, and the entirety of my cock vanished
between her lips. She held it for several long seconds,
running her tongue up and down, alternately sucking and
biting down gently.
"It was my nipple," she continued, letting me go and
stroking with her hands again. "My friends Yawesha'ae got
one, and I had to get one, too. It was all the rage among my
friends, you know." She increased the pressure, squeezing
hard until it was almost painful. "Oh, you like that? You
must be popular with the ladies." She squeezed again, and I
moaned. "I like it when males do that. It makes everything
seem so basic and savage, as if you're overcome by instinct
and can't help yourself. Such an animal you are, Wulf. Such
an animal."
She toyed with me for several minutes, stroking me with
firm fingers, then suckling with increasing enthusiasm, and
continued her narrative.
"We all got our nipples pierced, you see. It drove our
parents crazy. Such doctrinaire old fools they were. They
just didn't understand that our desire to pierce our bodies
and inflict pain on ourselves was simply a reflection of the
pain and hopelessness we felt in our bleak underground
world, where no one cared, and life was a long, endless
series of mindless drudgeries."
Yeah, right, I thought. Poor, misbegotten dark elves.
Forced to live in endless luxury, waited on by slaves, their
every whim satisfied. No wonder elves acted like spoiled
children of noblemen. Oh, well, her life of pain and
suffering had provided her with sufficient skills...
"Yawesha'ae and I had a contest going, you see," she
went on, still alternating between masturbating and
fellating me. "We wanted to see who could get the most
piercings. We'd get together every week or so, and show each
other our new ones." She ran an enthusiastic, dripping
tongue down my cock one last time, and then held it before
her like a stick of candy. "Oh, my, I think you're ready for
the next stage, aren't you?"
She moved astride me. I couldn't even feel my hands
anymore, so the pain didn't really matter.
"Want to know who won the contest?" she asked, fumbling
with the belt that held up her long black loincloth. She
found the catch and pulled it aside, now completely naked
save for her single black glove. "Look."
I looked, and was suddenly torn between nausea and deep,
deep lust. Her cunt was entirely free of pubic hair --
whether this was by choice or by nature, I didn't know.
Soft,
purplish lips protruded, distended between her thighs, and
they were set with another set of rings, at least a dozen
each side. Above them, where her clitoris nestled like a
black pearl, was another, large ring, bearing another round,
silver ball.
My eyes must have widened, for she laughed again, silver
hair shaking.
"I won," she said, musical laughter ringing in my ears.
"Poor Yawesh' couldn't bear to have anyone touch her pure
little cunt. Me, I loved it. It was wonderful. So much pain,
so much pleasure. I love my rings, little human. I love them
so, and you'll find out why."
I'd been expecting this. I was well beyond replying in
words, and my bound hands prevented me from doing much
besides what she allowed me to do, so I simply waited,
panting, heart hammering, for her to make the next move.
She didn't wait long, moving up my chest, squeezing me
with her thighs, bending down and presenting her small
breasts before me, tiny metal barbels gleaming in dim blue
light.
"Bite!" she whispered. "Bite hard! Pull on it, human!"
I complied, sinking my teeth into the soft, tender
flesh, feeling the bar between my teeth, grasped it and
tugged, tossing my head.
"Oh!" Thae'lynn went incoherent, but only for a moment.
"I've found..." she managed, between clenched teeth, as I
alternated from breast to breast, licking, sucking, biting
and tugging, "...I've found that the... Ohhhh... sensations
can be so much more... intense... Oh, yessss... Ohhh...
Yawesh' simply couldn't understand... I think she did it...
because everyone else was doing it... Ahhhhh... Ohhhh... I
did it... Ahhh... because I wanted to..."
This went on for a few minutes, with her continuing to
tell me about her life and her stupid dark elf friends, and
me continuing to give her nipples the rough treatment. He
thighs clenched me tighter and tighter, and I felt heat
radiating from her cunt where it touched me, rings shining,
moistness gleaming.
Eventually, she had had enough, and practically leapt
forward, moving astride my head, thighs on either side of my
face, ring-studded cunt just out of reach.
"Oh, you fucking animal," she growled, more than a touch
of the bestial in her own words. "You hot, fucking animal.
You want to suck this?"
"Yes," I replied (I can be very straightforward when I
need to be).
"Then suck it. Bite it." She plunged forward, trapping
my head between her legs and frantically humping herself
against my face. I struggled to maintain composure (I wasn't
able to breathe at first), then managed to get my tongue out
and started licking, feeling the hard surfaces of the rings
next to the soft and slippery flesh of her lips.
"Oh, yes. Fuck me," she gasped, proving once more that,
although we are of many races and many species, and we may
all look different, we all want basically the same thing.
"Fuck me with your hot animal mouth."
Gods... The things some people say in the heat of
passion... I ignored her banter and licked harder, at last
finding the ring-and-ball arrangement at her clit. I slipped
my tongue into the ring and pulled, feeling her tense and
cry out, then bit down, holding the tiny ball between my
teeth and pulling harder.
"Oh, pull it..." She was lost in passion, now, and
didn't seem interested in relating any more details of her
social life. "Suck my clit... Yes, you animal, make me...
make me..."
I had a pretty good idea what the next word was going to
be, but she had a hard time getting it out, so I continued
to work on her, struggling to breathe all the while, but
still determined to push her over the top.
She didn't quite reach the summit, but instead pulled
back.
"No," she said, panting and heaving, nipples swelling
and straining against their silver piercings. "No, not yet.
I want you inside me."
Thae'lynn positioned herself astride my hips, taking my
cock in her hands and stroking her cunt-juices up and down
its length.
"Get it all wet, my little animal," she whispered. "Get
this nice animal cock all wet, and let it fuck me...
Yesss..."
I was largely beyond participation by now, and began to
feel as if I was being used for my body, rather than my mind
and personality.
Gods, I felt so cheap...
At last, she slipped down, my cock sliding between the
pouting, ring-set purplish cunt-lips, and into what a Litharnan
romance writer would probably call her "uttermost
depths."
And she began to pump up and down, plunging me in and
out of her. Her conversation continued in a most interesting
manner.
"Ohhh... Trigon claimed... Yessss... claimed that sex
was the one hundredth transformational... oh, fuck me... one
hundredth transformational modality... Are you familiar with
Trigon's... Ahhh... Trigon's works on the ninety-nine
transformational modalities... Oh... by any chance? No, of
course not, you're a hairless... ape... Ahhh..."
At that point, I didn't give a damn who Trigon was, or
what the hell she meant by "transformational modalities" (it
sounded familiar, though, from my days in the Magic Academy),
so in lieu of responding, I pounded away harder,
rising up with her as she continued to buck and writhe atop
me.
This suited her fine, for her moans and sighs grew in
intensity, and she abandoned her impromptu discussion of
obscure dark elf philosophers, but instead repeatedly urged,
"fuck me like an animal..." and eventually -- at least to the
best of my knowledge -- coming to a heavy, numbing orgasm.
She kept going, though racked by deep contractions, jaws
locked, teeth clenched, still screaming, only barely
comprehensibly, about how much of a fucking animal I was. I
came, too, a moment later, hips rising from the floor,
exploding hotly, body arcing (and wrenching my shoulders in
the process, might I add), grunting like the animal Thae'lynn
seemed to want.
She lay against me, panting, for a few minutes, my cock
still inside her, then sat up and disengaged, stroking my
collapsed cock and squeezing the last bit of semen from its
tip. She licked it away with that bizarre, blue-black,
studded tongue, then stood up.
"You're very sweet," she said, slipping on a black satin
robe and putting her mask back on. "You'd make the loveliest
pet." She turned toward the cabin door. "But I fear we have a
war to fight, and I can't afford to keep a pet. Sergeant!"
As the door opened and three dark elf warriors barreled
through, I struggled to my feet.
"Wait a minute!" I cried. "You said you'd let me go!"
"Poor little pet," she replied. "I said that there might
be alternatives. This is one of them." She addressed the
lead elf-thug. "Take the prisoner and throw him over the
side. He seems far too willful to be a rower."
I was far too weak and confused to put up much of a
fight; besides, my arms were numb and useless. I evaded the
guards for a few moments, but they eventually chased me
down, and dragged me from the cabin.
"Farewell, little Wulf," Thae'lynn said, waving jauntily.
"At least be thankful that your last moments were
pleasant."
"Fuck you," I spat back.
"Too late." She laughed, musically. "We already did."
"At least unchain me... give me a weapon... Gods,
please...!"
"Oh, don't make such a fuss, Wulf," I heard Thae'lynn's
voice fade as she returned to her cabin. "It simply isn't
becoming..."
They dragged me off to the laughter of other crew
members, despite my bellowed threats, pleas and dire threats,
and unceremoniously tossed me over the stern railing.
The smoked glass windows of Thae'lynn's cabin flashed
past, and an instant later I plunged beneath the waves,
struggling futilely against the chains which still held my
wrists, feeling them drag me down, and watching the warm
H Hsunlight above me recede into cloudy shafts of bright water,
then finally vanish into darkness.
I held my breath as long as I could; gods only know why
-- I knew that nothing could possibly save me, and when my
lungs could stand it no longer and I finally surrendered the
last of my air into shining, silvery bubbles, it was almost
a relief.
Over at last, I thought. Unnoticed and unmourned. Over
at last...
* * * *
Of course, it wasn't over, unless I'm dictating this
story via table-rapping. I have only the vaguest recollections of
what followed, unfortunately -- dark shadows
sliding around me, cold water washing over my limp body,
strong arms encircling me...
A moment later, I felt my body spasm as my battered
lungs abruptly began working again, sucking in a deep breath
of...
Air...?
No, it wasn't air. It was thick as Murvane stout, and
filled my lungs uncomfortably, but I could breathe it. I was
alive...
I opened my eyes. Once more, I was assailed by the alien,
the inexplicable, the impossible, the unlikely...
Well, let's just say what I saw was unusual, okay?
My chains were gone, and I rested on a sandy seabed,
surrounded by waving sea-grass. The sun was little more than
a tiny golden coin far overhead, separated from me by fathoms
of blue-green water. Rocky walls rose around me, and
a school of silvery fish darted past, several feet away.
By Phaedra's Supple Breasts (I made that one up; like
it?), I was still underwater. But I was alive... Gods, could
this be the Aquarium of the Damned?
Before I could follow that thought much further, a motion
nearby riveted my attention. The sea-grass in front of
me parted, revealing a creature which up to that time I'd
only read about.
It was a living, breathing, honest-to-Shalama mermaid.
I could easily understand why lonely mariners fall in
love with such creatures -- this one had the sort of face
and body which I had dreamed of as I sailed from Xesh. She
gazed at me with light, sea-green eyes, peering from a
gentle, pale-skinned face, surrounded by a cloud of black
hair which hung still in the water.
Otherwise, she was much like the traditional mermaid.
Her torso was that of a naked woman, with slender white
arms, full breasts, pale nipples, and a flat belly, subtly
shading to a green-scaled fish tail. She wore only a necklace
of seashells.
Looking down, I saw that I, too wore a similar necklace,
and I felt a faint pulse of magic radiating from it. I'm not
completely dim, and I did actually sit through one or two
classes at the Magic Academy -- it was obvious that the
necklace was the only thing keeping me alive. I looked up in
surprise, an inquiring look on my face.
"Don't worry, two-legs," she said, mildly. She didn't
exactly speak, however -- it wasn't really the kind of mind-
speech which the snake-daemoness had used in the Alabaster
Temple, it was more of a vibrating modulation of the water
around me, possibly translated from her native language by
the seashell amulet.
"You're alive," she continued, floating closer to me. "I
saw the greenskins throw you overboard. I decided that any
enemy of that group might be worth saving."
"Thanks," I said. I spoke carefully, feeling my words
vibrate through the water in the same manner as the
mermaid's. "It wasn't the goblins who threw me over, it was
the dark elves."
"Even worse," she replied. "I saw you floating down, and
put the amulet on you. That's what allows you to breathe
down here."
"I thought so," I said. "I'm Wulf, and thanks again."
She smiled. "Pearl."
"Good name for a mermaid."
"Glad you approve. So why did the dark ones try to kill
you? Were you an uppity slave or something similar?"
"Afraid not. Just an unlucky mariner whose boat got
swamped by that dark elf tub. Their admiral decided I
wouldn't make a good slave rower, so over I went."
Pearl floated up and took my arm. "Come with me," she
said. "It's safer up the cliff."
I swam along clumsily. I had lost pretty much all my
clothing, save my breeches, which were still down around my
ankles. I belatedly pulled them up and laced them, then
swam, with clumsy human strokes, after Pearl, as she
propelled herself gracefully toward the cliffs with powerful
sweeps of her tail.
"What's going on up there?" she asked, looking back at
me as I bounded from rock to rock, trying to remember how to
breast stroke. "I've never seen so many ships in one place."
"Invasion fleet," I replied, panting (and panting water
is quite a chore, let me tell you). "They're planning to
attack the Elven Isles."
That alarmed her. "Great Sea Mother!" she exclaimed. "Do
the elves know?"
I shrugged. "If they don't now, they will soon. That
armada isn't something they can ignore."
She reached the dark opening of a cave, and ushered me
through.
"It will be too late by then," she said, urgently. "The
elves have to be warned."
I sighed. "Why bother? Those gobs won't last five minutes
on elvish soil, even with the dark elves and the
Slaerthists aiding them."
She made a foul noise, then turned back to me, a couple
of raw fish in her hands.
"Here," she said, "eat these. You'll need your strength."
I looked askance at the fish, but then realized I was
ravenously hungry, and took large mouthfuls out of them.
Perhaps the magical amulet had changed my palate as well,
for they actually tasted fine.
"Need my strength?" I asked. "For what?"
(I know what you're expecting, by the way... I was half-
expecting it myself, but it was not to be.)
"You've got to go warn the elves," she said. "They're my
people's allies, but there's no way I can get onto land and
tell them, and it would take days to find one of their ships.
You've got to go and warn them of the invasion."
I balked at this. "Sorry, sister," I said, "but the
elves probably wouldn't make much distinction between me and
those green skinned freaks up there. You know how much the
elves hate people whose ears aren't pointy."
Pearl shook her head at that, sending her hair up in a
billowing black cloud, and I saw that she, herself, had
graceful, pointed ears.
"Oops," I said. "Present company excepted, of course. No
wonder you people are friends with them. You look kind of
like an elf with a fish-tail."
"If that's flattery, it's accepted," Pearl replied. "In
any event, I think that since I rescued you from a watery
grave, as you people would say, you at least owe me that. We
have an obligation to help the elves. While you go warn them,
I'll rally my own people, and we'll try and raise some havoc
with that fleet. Please, Wulf. I'm not demanding, I'm
asking."
I was lost, of course. Rogue, thief, deserter, coward --
I may be all those things, but deep down inside I think I
retain a small sense of honor and just behavior, and Pearl
was right. She had saved me. I owed her. And if my task was
to go warn the pointy-boys that the greenies were coming to
kick their asses, it was incumbent upon me to do so with
good grace.
I nodded. "You're right. I'd better get going."
She smiled at that, and kissed me gently on the cheek.
"There's not time for more, Wulf," she said. "My friends
tell me I'm a good judge of character. You're a better man
than you think you are, Wulf. Perhaps we can both find out
together someday."
I had to smile at that. "Unlikely," I replied, "but a
nice thing to think about on lonely nights."
She ushered me to the cave entrance, then emitted a
strange, warbling whistle. To my surprise, out of the gloom,
a great grey finned shape appeared, long and streamlined, a
great dorsal fin rising from its back, a bestial face
sporting blank black eyes and wicked triangular teeth. I
started back in fear; it was the biggest damned shark I had
ever seen.
"Don't worry," Pearl said. "This is Karl. He'll take you
to the elven isles."
I grimaced. "He looks more like he's considering me as
an appetizer."
"Don't be silly. You wouldn't hurt this nice man, would
you Karl?"
Karl looked at her with what I can only describe as the
adoration of a beloved dog, then nuzzled me with his sharp
snout.
"See? He likes you!"
I didn't have much choice to concur, and so positioned
myself gingerly behind Karl's massive dorsal fin, and held
on against the rough, gritty skin.
"There," Pearl said, then addressed Karl, who listened
attentively. "Now take this nice man to the big island. Let
him off in the shallows. Don't stop to eat seals or chase
fish, and be a good boy, right?"
Karl undulated with apparent delight.
"Good bye, Wulf," Pearl said, and kissed me briefly on
the lips. "I hope we meet again."
"Good bye," I replied. "I do t-- Waaaaaahhhhhh...!"
This last was uttered as Karl took off at a high rate of
speed, racing through the water like an arrow from an elvish
longbow.
* * * *
Disappointed that I didn't have sex with the mermaid?
Well, sorry, friends -- contrary to popular belief, I do NOT
have sex with every female I meet. Besides, after being
fished out of the raging sea, practically raped by a dark
elf admiral with two pounds of metal stuck through her,
thrown overboard and practically drowned, I probably wouldn't
have been able to get it up if my life depended on
it. I wasn't unaware of Pearl's beauty and grace, however,
and wouldn't have thrown her out of bed for eating sardines
-- I still wasn't sure how mermaids even HAD sex, or, for
that matter, whether they had it at all, so I wasn't terribly
concerned. Actually, Pearl did manage to show up again,
later in my career, and answered a few of the preceding
questions, but that's another story entirely, and I need to
get back to my current narrative.
The seascape flew by, murky blue or cloudy green. Below
me, sea-palms waved, rocky crags soared, and flashing,
darting schools of fish floated magically. Here and there
I saw stranger things -- a pair of merfolk towing a net,
spearing fish with tridents, a scaly humanoid riding in a
chariot towed behind twin porpoises; an imposing pod of
gigantic whales, suspended in the water, emitting eerie
cries; a creature which might have been a manta ray, but for
its enormous size -- bigger than a Xeshite dreadnaught, it
seemed to me -- and its glowing red eyes, which watched me
and my toothy mount swim past with an inscrutable, but
undeniably intelligent gaze.
There were other things -- distant towers which might
have been cities, the broken hulks of ships, toppled ruins
made eons ago by gods-know-who -- but I had little time to
look closely. Karl was indefatigable, however, carrying me on
steadily, stopping neither to eat, rest or sightsee. Eventually,
far overhead, the sun vanished and all grew dark.
I could barely see the black bulks of ships, oars and tow-beasts
churning the water. Once or twice we came close to the
surface, and I saw it pitted with rain and tossed by wind.
Thae'lynn was taking a terrible risk -- using a storm to
mask the armada's approach to the elven isles. Even as we
passed beneath that dreadful assemblage of vessels, I saw an
ungainly goblin warship break deep and slip beneath the
waves, timbers twisting and splintering, dozens of black
figures slipping down, struggling against the pull of the
water, finally giving up their struggle and vanishing into
the chill darkness. Gods only knew how many of the armada
had perished in this manner -- damned goblin vessels are
about as seaworthy as large rocks once the water gets choppy
All the same, there were so blasted many, even the losses
caused by the storm would scarcely scratch the surface.
Karl sped on. Despite Thae'lynn's audacity, her tactics
had slowed the armada to a crawl, and we passed them by
easily. Unfortunately, we made landfall less than an hour
later, indicating that the invaders were on their final
approach to the isles. When Karl finally broke the surface in
about six feet of water, I moved from one world to another,
and he sent me on my way with a quick buffet of his tail. As
I struggled toward shallower water, he rose up one last
time, cast a single black eye in my direction, then was gone
in a rush of water.
He hadn't left me in a terribly comfortable position. As
soon as it hit the air, Pearl's amulet disintegrated into
chalky fragments, immediately washed away by the heaving
waters around me. With the magic gone, my lungs (not
surprisingly) immediately rebelled at being full of water,
and I immediately heaved, spitting up great mouthfuls of
brine, all the while struggling to keep afloat. Still heaving
and choking, I caught a breaker, and rode it in toward shore,
fighting against the pull as the tide tugged at
me, trying to drag me back into the surf. At last I fell to
my knees, crawling, vomiting water, and finally heaving
myself up on a vast, white sand beach, the last remnants of
the crashing, foamy breakers lapping feebly around me.
Though I felt as if I'd just been chained up, thrown off
a ship, nearly drowned, and then carried at breakneck pace
to shore by a giant shark, I was vaguely aware of my
surroundings.
The slate-grey sky overhead gave forth an icy drizzle,
and a brisk wind blew foam up and down the beach. Beyond the
sand rose stand after stand of shaggy green conifers, dark
and ancient-looking, cold and uninviting. The breeze howled
in my ears, and I shivered, feeling my extremities growing
numb and blue.
Gods, this was it -- the Elven Isles, where the Silver
Lady ruled and humans were decidedly unwelcome. All it looked
like was a cold, lonely beach and a cold, unfriendly
forest.
I glanced back out to see and got a whack of rain in my
face as a reward, but dashing the water from my eyes, I
strained to look out across the tossing grey and white
expanse, looking for some sign of the invaders.
I took a breath and shivered. No sign yet. I might still
be able to warn someone. I staggered to my feet, making for
the trees, desperate for some shelter from the wind. My
first problem was how to avoid death by exposure, my second
to find someone who might listen to me, rather than gut me
because my ears were round and I was destined to live less
than 1,000 years or so.
The trees closed in around me like a dark blanket; soft
sand underfoot became loamy soil, strewn with pine needles,
uncomfortable without shoes. Virtually at random I chose a
direction, moving through the trees parallel to the beach,
sheltered from the wind, but with the sea still in sight.
I didn't even know what time it was. The gathering gloom
might be from the storm, which increased in intensity as I
went on, great cold drops of rain splashing down through the
trees, or cutting at me, driven on the lances of wind which
slipped between the great shaggy boles, or it might be from
oncoming dusk. After an hour or so, I came to the inescapable
conclusion that night was falling, and I would
either have to find shelter soon or spend a night out in the
open. My wilderness skills were minimal, and I doubted
whether I could start a fire without flint. Dying of exposure
in the heart of the elven realms was not a fate I looked
forward to.
I was about to give in to despair when I caught a glimpse
of warm lights ahead, twinkling through the close-growing
trees. I stumbled forward, closer and closer, as more
lights came out, lit in the oncoming light. At last I emerged
from the trees along the banks of a river, black in the
gloom. A gleaming white bridge spanned the rushing waters,
and on the far end rose a wondrous structure. A harmonious
collection of round towers, some tall and slender, some
short and squat, some elaborately decorated in shallow
relief, wound about with vines and abstract latticework
patterns, others plain and seamless. All were the same white
as the bridge, shining in the dusk, as if reflecting pure
moonlight. Torches on walls, in towers, or along walkways,
and here and there white-clad figures moved with calm
serenity.
I approached, staring in awe, only to discover that not
everyone at this place was calmly serene.
"Chae'qua!" barked a voice from the darkness. "Vlichana
et vu kammna!"
A pair of armored guards hustled over the bridge toward
me. I instantly knew I'd come to the right place -- they
were classical elves -- tall, blonde, clad in long, silver
scaled armor, and wore high, conical helms emblazoned with
golden suns at the brow. They carried long, wicked spears
with red shafts, and broadswords at their belts. Making them
angry seemed like a very poor idea.
"Chae'qua!" repeated the first, thrusting his spear at
me aggressively. "Huvah chanima'a!"
The second looked at me curiously. "Umani?" he asked his
companion, holding his spear in one hand and pointing at me.
The first frowned, then nodded. "Umani!" he barked.
"Come! Now!"
I came forward, hands raised, and allowed them to urge
me over the bridge with none-too-subtle shoves of their
spears. My mastery of elvish was limited, which is to say
non-existent -- I was expelled from the academy before I
progressed beyond the basic human languages. I did surmise,
however, that "Umani" was elvish for "dirty human," and
allowed them to goad me along without protest.
The immediate vicinity of the palace was much better
lit, by warm yellow torches and lanterns. The ground was
flagged with slate, cut into intricate geometric shapes and
fitted painstakingly together. A slightly lighter path led to
a great, dark wood gate, its portals writhing with carved
dragons and unicorns. The gate opened to my guards pounding,
and I was ushered inside.
I won't bore you with a long description of what I saw
inside; I wasn't really in much of a mood to look in any
event, as hungry, tired, cold and nearly dead as I was, but
what I did see was remarkable. Great, wide corridors made up
of endless gothic arches, vaulted ceilings, fluted columns of
white, black, red and green marble, floors inlaid with
complex knot-patterns and magical sigils (my minimal magical
skills detected some highly potent protective spells active
in the palace), foliated murals, hanging lanterns which
emitted magical light, ornately carved doors, cloisters,
colonnades, pergola, and numerous other things which I don't
know the words for.
There were elves there, as well -- all male, as far as I
could see, and most in some form of military gear. There
were a few elves in white robes going about various
maintenance and artistic tasks, but the others were clad
variously in coats of mail like my escort or in pieces of
white leather armor. They carried red-shafted spears, white
lacquered longbows, iron-headed axes, or grim-looking
broadswords, and all looked at me as if I were something
which they scraped off the bottom of their pointy little
elf-shoes (well, they actually wore high leather boots, but
I couldn't resist the image).
Our destination was a roomy marble chamber, where several
other elves, all looking rather self-important and
annoyed at being disturbed, sat at a long table, delicately
eating various exotic-looking elven dishes from gleaming
white tableware.
My lead guard stepped forward and babbled in elvish for
several minutes, to skeptical stares from the assembled
elven notables, until at last the elf at the head of the
table stood, staring directly at me. They were plainly very
old (elves get thin and weak-looking as they age), and all
wore elaborate robes in many different colors. Once more,
they were all males.
He was a dangerous-looking character, clad in long blue
robes embroidered with stars and moons, trimmed with a bright
band of yellow and red. He was lean, almost skeletal,
his skin pale even for an elf, his eyes sunken in his head,
but bright and alert. His blonde hair was slightly thin on
top, but hung down below his shoulders, and around his neck
he wore a simple crescent of silver metal on a black chain.
He spoke in elvish, a deep and vibrant tone, surprising
from one so frail. I strained to even recognize a single
word, but was unable to, and stared uncomprehendingly.
An annoyed expression flickered across the old elf's
features; he waved a hand and muttered some strange
syllables.
My ears suddenly rang, and I felt a wave of dizziness. I
staggered backward a step, earning a poke from one of my
guard's spears.
"Watch it, ear-boy," I snapped, steadying myself.
"Shut up, human," the guard replied in what sounded to
me like perfect Imperial Common. "Consider yourself lucky we
didn't gut you on sight."
"Silence, Imral," said the old elf, and the guard lapsed
into contrite silence.
"Nice spell, venerable one," I said, using the honorific
we most often replied to elven instructors at the academy.
"It's good to be understood."
"I would curb the insolence, mortal," the old one
replied. "My impetuous guardsman speaks correctly, if
somewhat gracelessly."
"I'm sorry, my lord," I said, bowing my head. "I simply
don't respond well to being threatened when I come bearing
important news for your queen and your people."
"I see," the old one said. "I am Lord Thavaen, by the
way -- High Commander of the White Guard and Master of
Chalice Citadel."
I bowed again. "Wulf," I said. "No titles -- only Wulf.
I am a man and no more."
It seemed to impress him, and for a long moment it looked
as if he might crack a smile. Finally, he spoke.
"Tell me your news, Wulf. It must be grave news indeed
for you to risk your life by setting foot on elven soil,
which we have sworn on our lives and souls would never feel
the tread of an invader."
"I'm no invader," I said, "but I bring word that an
invader is coming." Briefly I told him my story, leaving out
the frenzied sex with Miss Cunt-Ring the dark elf. "I'm not
certain how large the armada was, Lord Thavaen, but I saw at
least a dozen orcish warships, and several others. The
goblins appear to have brought together all the powers who
lust after your riches, or seek vengeance against your race."
The room was instantly in tumult, all the varied elves
standing, shouting, imploring, condemning, cursing,
gesturing, demanding. Some denounced me as a liar, a spy or a
madman, and called for my death. Others insisted that the
Silver Lady be notified, while still others counseled caution
and suggested a scouting mission to check out my
story.
I tried to raise my own voice in all this, to tell them
that they didn't have the luxury of argument, since I
estimated the fleet was probably making landfall even as we
spoke, but Imral prodded me with his spear again, shouting
at me to hold my tongue.
I'd had enough. I turned on Imral and grabbed his spear.
"Dammit, you stupid elf bastard!" I shouted. "Those
fucking goblins and their slimy allies are probably landing
on your beaches right now, and if you don't --"
I really didn't get much of a chance to finish, as a
look of utter rage passed over Imral's face, and he butt-stroked
me with his spear, connecting solidly with my jaw,
and sending me crashing to the marble floor. I struggled to
rise, and he struck me again, savagely on the back of the
head, and I collapsed, falling into cold darkness.
[End of Part 1]