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Subject: Heart of the Lion 3 The Red and The Green   sci-fi magic
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Disclaimer: I did not write this story. I'm just posting it for those of 
you who enjoy such stories. If you are a minor (under 18) do not read, 
this story is for adults only
Jeff
 



~Subject: The Red and the Green (erotic sword and sorcery) [1/5]
~From: lupus@agora.rdrop.com (Anthony)

                          * * * * * * * *
                       The Red and the Green

   ["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 erotica called
"Phantasm" and am always on the lookout for artists and writers.
Those interested may write to me at lupus@agora.rdrop.com. Thanx! 

   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, but
is not to be distributed to individuals under eighteen years of
age. 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 know 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. Physically,
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 no 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. It 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, ebon
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
smoothly 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 glass, 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 and
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. "You're -- uhhh -- beautiful... Looks
kind of painful, though."

   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. Like most other
men, my organ seemed to have a mind of its own (albeit a very
small, one-tracked one) and was growing rigid.

   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.H HSoft, 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.

   Damn, but 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 sunlight 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.
H H     "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.


-----------------

 The Red and the Green
                         Part 2

   [In part 1, Wulf the Freelance was captured by the dark elf
admiral,  Thae'lynn N'Quy, part of a joint orc/human/dark elf
invasion fleet,  and  forced to perform for her, then thrown
unceremoniously over the side.  Rescued by the mermaid, Pearl, Wulf
makes his way to the elven isles,  where he tries to warn the elves
of the oncoming invasion fleet, but is koshed over the head by a
stupid elf asshole named Imral for his trouble.]

   [THIS STORY IS NOT FOR DISTRIBUTION TO INDIVIDUALS UNDER
EIGHTEEN YEARS OF AGE]

    I dreamed that I was back in Xesh, and that Xylara and Ushandra
were fighting a duel over me, armed with custard tarts instead of
swords. Alrynna, Nineh, the lion-women, and various other ex-lovers
were in the audience, along with some of my favorite enemies, such
as snake-woman, Thorvaz, Chuk the slave-taker, Malkoth the
Necromancer, and company. It ended with both women completely
slathered in custard, falling into each other's arms, ignoring me
completely, and starting to lick each other --

   "You fool, Wulf!" shouted Malkoth. "Don't you realize that all
thoughts are relative, and that life is but an illusion?"

   "Don't listen to him!" Chuk screamed. "Life is pleasure, and the
avoidance of discomfort! That alone makes it all worthwhile."

   I was about to respond, when the entire messy affair was
interrupted.

   "Wake up, human!" The words rang in my skull like the sound of
a dwarven timekeeper hammering on the hour-gongs at Iron Mountain.

   I sat suddenly rigidly upright, my delicious imaginings
dissolving into harsh light and the images of a half-dozen elven
guardsman standing around me, as I lay on a small cot. The speaker
was none other than my favorite elf, Imral.

   Memory returned in a sudden flood, and I launched myself at him,
hand seeking his scrawny little throat.

   "You fucking elvish homunculus!" I roared. "I come here trying
to help and you fucking cold-cock me? I'll fucking kill you --"

   The other elves dragged me off and held me down; I struggled
against them, but it was to no avail.

   Imral looked at me coldly, with an expression similar to
Thae'lynn's when she regarded me like a monkey in a menagerie.

   "Lord Thavaen has told me to apologize to you, human," he said,
lips tight, voice carefully modulated. "Your information has proved
correct -- our scouts report a landing in force by a large number
of goblins, orcs, H Hhumans, and dark ones. We have been ordered to
engage in a reconnaissance in force, and you are to accompany us."

   "You got me out of bed to tell me that?" I asked, but the joke
was lost on Mister Personality, who continued to regard me with
distant, blue eyes. "Whatever. Your apology is accepted in the same
spirit in which it is given."

   Imral relaxed. "You're to be issued weapons and armor," he told
me. "It is a great honor, human."

   "One which I can well do without," I told him. I was fully awake
now. My hosts had dressed me in a white tunic, but I still felt
miserable; the pounding in my head simply made it worse. "My task
was to warn you. I've fulfilled it. I brought warning of an
invasion and was treated like some kind of sneak thief." Mind you,
that's what I truly was, but I wasn't about to tell them that.
"Arrested, insulted, attacked. As far as I'm concerned, the goblins
can have you." I started to stride out of the room, but Imral
stepped in front of me.

   "I have been ordered to bring you with us, human," he said in a
low, deadly voice. "And, by all my ancestors, and by all the gods,
you will come with us. You've fouled this place enough with your
very presence, now don't foul it farther with your cowardice. If
you try to leave human, orders or no orders, I swear I will kill
you where you stand."

   "Killing an unarmed human, Imral?" I asked, trying to quiet my
pounding heart. "Very brave, noble elf. Very brave."

   His calling me a coward didn't bother me especially. I've
survived more scraps through creative cowardice than I can count,
so calls to honor rarely distress me. It was his damned elvish
arrogance which made my blood boil -- the notion that simply
because I was a human, I profaned his precious palace.

   Our gazes remained locked for several long moments. I knew I was
bound to lose a stare-down with an elf -- living for centuries
gives them enormous patience. I finally backed away, maintaining
eye contact.

   "I'll wear your filthy armor, elf," I said at last. "If you
don't think my very presence will profane it."

   Imral didn't reply. I was outfitted in elven scale and given a
sword. It was a second-line model, I suspected; all the same, it
was a far superior weapon to any human blade I'd ever carried --
holding it in my bare hand, I felt a faint vibration of magical
energy.

   We left the palace, accompanied by a company of archers, dressed
in mottled green, carrying longbows as tall as they were. It was
night, and the storm still lashed the land, blowing rain, mixed
with razor-sharp sleet, into our faces.

   "Stay close, human," Imral said over the roar of wind. "I also
have orders to kill you should you attempt to escape or aid our
enemies."

   "And I'll do the same to you," I shot back.

   Again, Imral glowered in silence.

   We followed the archers through the darkness, down one of the
slate-paved roads which led along the river, back toward the beach.
Eventually, we moved off the main road and followed a narrow forest
trail for nearly an hour, until one of the archers motioned for
quiet. We crept forward as quietly as we could in our armor (though
the howl of the wind masked most of the noise we made), and as we
approached the beach, we heard a cacophony of voices, clashing
metal, animal noises and heavy footfalls, carried toward us on the
breeze.

   We peered toward the beach and the elven road which ended there.
The elves around me gaped in amazement, but I was forced to strain
to see through the gloom, and in the face of the whipping wind.
Dozens of prows rose from the surf, and I could see the shadowy
bulks of dozens more out to sea.  The beach, which should have been
a pale strip, even under the fitful light of the cloud-hung moons,
was thick with bodies. Skittering forms of goblins ran this way and
that, and the more ponderous and bulky forms of orcs in
dark-colored armor moved slowly from their vessels. There were
humans, too -- rough and ready types in varied armor, carrying a
motley assortment of weapons, illuminating their way with hooded
lanterns, unable to see in the dark, as the orcs and the goblins
did.

   Horses, riding lizards, and other, less familiar mounts crowded
the beach, snorting or hissing, occasionally slashing or biting at
each other despite the best efforts of their handlers. The towering
forms of ogres unloaded great crates of supplies from the ships,
and everywhere sergeants and officers issued weapons and bellowed
orders.

   Of the dark elves there was no sign -- I assumed that Thae'lynn
was content to let the humans and orcs take the brunt of the
initial assault, then land her forces at leisure. Not that the
landing force had much to worry about; they'd reached elven shores
undetected, and now prepared for the march inland. I didn't see any
Slaerthists in their fanciful armor, either, but I knew they were
there.

   Other creatures also waded ashore -- this was truly a disparate
assembly of evil forces. Griffins and wyverns, griping and snarling
at being forced to wade through the surf, and unable to fly because
of the raging winds, were goaded ashore and chained up by harried
tenders. I saw minotaurs, throgs, and a handful of wolfen
(renegades or outcasts, I supposed, serving for loot and the joy of
pillaging), as well as other creatures unfamiliar or
indistinguishable in the darkness.

   "At least ten thousand on the beach," I hissed to Imral. "Looks
like at least another ten thousand at sea. I think Lord Thavaen had
better send for help."

   He looked at me contemptuously. "We do not need help," he spat.
"We are the Guardians of the Chalice. We will fight these
ourselves."

   I suppressed a curse. Damn all elves and their arrogant pride,
anyway. The palace had little in the way of real defenses that I'd
seen, and there were easily enough ill-tempered creatures here to
wipe it off the map in a matter of hours.

   "Then withdraw," I said. "Fall back. That palace won't hold
them."

   "We will not abandon the Chalice," Imral hissed cryptically. "It
stays in the citadel."

   Gods...

   I would have argued further, but I was interrupted by a hiss, a
fleshy "thunk" and a cry of pain from one of the armored elves, who
fell, an arrow sprouting from his neck.

   I spun, drawing my weapon, to see at least a dozen orcs, all in
black leather armor, wet and shiny from the rain, racing through
the forest at us, yelling at the tops of their lungs. I ducked just
as one particularly nasty specimen, his eyes glowing red in the
darkness, loosed an arrow at me, then threw his bow aside and
charged, drawing a crooked, wickedly barbed sword.

   We were screwed, of course. The orcs had slipped in behind us,
so that we had to either go through them or retreat back to the
beach, into the heart of the enemy army. The elves realized this,
and charged forward to engage. The archers scattered into the
woods, evading the clumsy, armored orcs, and taking opportunity
shots from their longbows -- hazardous at best in a dark,
storm-tossed forest.

   My orc took a slash at me, and I was only barely able to parry.
I attacked back; he ignored it, taking a slash on the shoulder and
counter-attacking. Only the elven armor saved me, for his blow
bruised and nearly stunned me, but it did not penetrate the shining
silver scales.

   I'd had enough. Orcs were nasty customers in close combat, so
the only way to deal with them is to fight the same way they do.
That is to say, fight dirty.

   I grabbed a handful of loam and threw it deliberately into my
opponent's face. He spat and sputtered, trying to clear his eyes,
and I ran him through, giving his body a few extra slashes, since
orcs also tend to get up again after the most grievous injuries,
and ask you why you didn't do it right the first time.

   The rest of our force was faring relatively well. Two or three
elves lay dead, but twice that number of orcs had bought it. We
pressed forward through them, our mission largely forgotten. We'd
managed to accomplish what we'd come here for, that is to get some
idea of the force which faced Lord Thavaen and his suicidal
Guardsmen, and now we had to get that information back to him.

   I managed to kill another orc, taking numerous hits which would
have killed me had I not been wearing the armor, then prepared to
make a break for the road and head back toward the palace. Then I
saw Imral.

   He was on the bad end of a large, black-skinned orc with twin
scimitars. He parried skillfully, but the orc's second weapon
knocked his sword away, and the great brute leaped onto his chest,
overbearing him, drawing back his weapons for a killing blow...

   Yes, he was an asshole, and yes, I could have left him. But I
didn't. I hurried forward and jabbed my sword into the back of the
orc's neck.

   He turned around at that, flinging himself on me in a fury. I
was only barely able to hack him apart (and hope to Phaedra that
the pieces didn't come after me), then help Imral to his feet.

   "You owe me one, dickweed," I said, staring straight at him.
"Now let's get the hell out of here."

   We ran back along the road, as fast as our heavy armor would
allow. The surviving archers covered our retreat, but no one really
bothered to pursue. Imral nursed a bad cut at the side of his head,
and alternated casting miserable glances at me, and looking
shamefully down at the road.

   We reached the citadel an hour or so later, and Imral led us
back to the presence of Lord Thavaen.

   The old elf sat in a carved hardwood chair in a vaulted chamber
hung with dozens of colorful banners. He was now clad in silvery
scale armor much like ours, and sat with a scabbarded sword across
his knees. He listened gravely.

   "The human spoke the truth, my lord," Imral said (give the
point-eared bastard credit for honesty, at least). "Countless orcs,
goblins and humans have come ashore near the mouth of the Lirandir.
They attacked us as we watched them. Talvan, Mulhanrir and Shael
died; six more are wounded."

   "Including yourself, I see," Thavaen said. "You should have that
wound seen to."

   "I am shamed, my lord," Imral replied. "The human saved me from
death. I do not deserve to live."

   I glared, and could stay silent no longer. "You mean because you
got yourself wounded, or because you were saved by a dirty human?"
I addressed Lord Thavaen. "When will your people realize that other
races have honor, too? I'm no hero, lord, but I will help a
companion, even if he has expressed nothing but hatred and contempt
for me."

   Thavaen waved a gauntleted hand. "Enough of this bickering, both
of you. How long do we have before the enemy attacks?"

   I shrugged. "They didn't seem well organized. It took us over an
hour to get here from the beach, and they didn't seem to be
pursuing. At best I imagine that by dawn you'll have orcs all over
your walls. This place won't stand an hour against them, Lord
Thavaen, unless you have some hefty magical defenses I don't know
about. You'll have to call  for reinforcements or abandon this
position."

   Imral looked at me angrily. "The White Guard needs no aid, and
we will never leave this place."

   "What is he talking about, Lord?" I demanded. "This place is no
strongpoint! You don't even have walls! If you stay all you'll
accomplish is get your entire command wiped out."

   Thavaen looked at me contemplatively. "It is probably difficult
for those of your race to understand," he said. "No insult is
intended. I am simply saying that the elven race is different from
yours. We of the guard have taken an oath never to abandon this
place, and to defend it with our lives."

   "And we need no aid to defend it!" Imral declared. "We are the
White Guard! We are invincible!"

   Thavaen's mouth bent into a thin smile, the first I'd seen from
him. "Powerful and brave my warriors are, Imral, yourself included.
But scarcely invincible. We will alert the Silver Lady to our
plight, and send to the Winged Ones for aid. Perhaps if the muster
goes quickly and the Dragon Kings forget their petty squabbles for
a time we can stop this invasion before it has begun." He fixed me
with another one of his deadly gazes. "You will come with me,
human. You've done well, and you at least deserve an explanation."

   Imral looked distraught. "You can't mean to take him to see the
Chalice!" he cried. "My Lord, I must protest..."

   "You will protest, young Imral," Thavaen said in a voice low and
deadly enough to break a poleaxe in half, "when you have earned the
right to do so. You, too, have fought bravely, but you have treated
this man with ill grace and unseemly insults. He may well have
saved our land from untold tragedy. If you cannot extend him
respect for that, at least hold your tongue and do nothing more to
stain our nation's honor."

   Imral cringed like a flower in a furnace. "My Lord, I request
reassignment for duty," he said at last, voice distant and hollow.

   "Granted," Thavaen said. "Now go with my thanks."

   Imral departed quickly, leaving us alone.

   "Now," Thavaen said, "come with me, and perhaps you will
understand."

   Thae'lynn

    "Careful, you clumsy fools!" Thae'lynn bellowed, gesturing
angrily. "You harm him and I'll feed you to the griffins!"

   The team of human slaves carrying the cage which contained
Yalvar, her favorite tiger, responded sluggishly, lifting the cage
higher to keep it clear of the churning surf. Thae'lynn made a
mental note to cut back the dosage of  black mushrooms in their
next meal -- too much of that damned stuff and their desired
servility degenerated into simple lethargy.

   Thae'lynn herself relied on a sturdy team of minotaurs to convey
her sedan chair, in which she now sat, supervising the debarkation
of her own forces. The orcs and goblins had already fanned out into
the woods nearby, scouting out their landing site. The night was
dark and stormy, lashing uncomfortably at her despite the
protection of a magical weather-bubble, but the landings had thus
far gone well.

   A pair of orc scouts approached her, bowing fearfully. These
were regular line-orcs, muscular and heavy-browed, yellowish fangs
protruding from their lantern-jaws, their eyes small and reddish.
They wore a motley assortment of scavenged armor and carried curved
swords.

   "Lady," grumbled one, "His Majesty King Thrazz requests your
presence in his command tent to discuss strategy."

   Thae'lynn sighed. The so-called orcish monarch usually used
these "strategy sessions" to ogle and attempt to grope her. Though
she did maintain a passion for animals and lesser species (such as
that enthusiastic human they'd collected on the way here -- almost
a pity she'd had to kill him, but no matter...), orcs were beneath
even her.

   "Tell His Majesty I will be there presently," she replied. "I
have a few matters of my own to attend to."

   The orcs bowed and scurried off. Thae'lynn prodded the lead
minotaur.

   "Take me to the road where the circle is inscribed," she said,
unable to keep a loving tone out of her voice (she loved her
minotaurs dearly, and for obvious reasons), and held tight as her
bull-headed bearers lurched unsteadily over the sand.

   Some away, out of sight from the rest of the army, where the
elven road cut into the beach and vanished beneath the waves, three
thin, mad-eyed male dark elves in black robes kneeled under a
flickering blue dome of magical energy. The first painstakingly
inscribed complex lines and patterns on the stone with charcoal,
while the second and third followed behind, carefully sculpting the
design into the road surface with hammer and chisel.

   "How does it go?" Thae'lynn called down to them.

   The first looked up, eyes wide, darting first one way, then the
other.

   "The circle will be finished before dawn, Dark Lady," he
replied. "The elves shall soon feel the lash of the Red Monk and
touch the Rain of Blood --"

   "I'm sure they will," Thae'lynn broke in, interrupting what was
apparently going to be a long speech. "Just make certain it's done
before sunrise."

   "We obey, Dark Lady," replied the lead chiseler. "We serve you
as we serve the Lords of the Seventeenth Circle, and when you speak
we hear the voice of the Gods!"

   Thae'lynn nodded, gingerly goading her minotaurs and ordering
them away. Priests always made her uncomfortable, and these two
were worse than most. On the other hand, the work they performed
was vital to the invasion, and to her long-term ambitions, so she
allowed them their eccentricities.

   The idle thought occurred to her that she should add at least
one new ring to her collection for every elven city the army
sacked, then realized that she would soon run out of room. She'd
have to think of some other way to commemorate the coming
victories. She glanced down the beach, to where her slaves had
finally managed to wrestle Yalvar's cage to shore, and were now
trying to calm the great cat.

   Beneath her mask, Thae'lynn smiled. She'd think of something,
she was sure.

   Thrazz

    The orc king was in an ebullient mood. Thrazz sat on a great
wooden throne, carefully transported from his palace and setup by
goblin slaves, swathed in furs and cushions. He was a huge orc,
heavy-jawed, thick-browed, with an enormous belly. He wore
specially-made armor and was festooned with amulets, charms,
chains, brooches and other sparkly bits of jewelry, and wore a
great, black helm adorned with four sweeping horns, like those of
a bull.

   "Ha! Dark Lady!" he bellowed, taking a long swig from his
favorite drinking vessel, a goblet crafted from a dwarven skull.
"How ya doin'? We shore as hell caught 'em with their pants down,
didn't we?" He set the goblet down. He was something of an
eclectic, and had a large collection of mugs, jacks, goblets, cups
and other drinking vessels, which he insisted on transporting with
him everywhere. 

   "Don't celebrate yet, Majesty," Thae'lynn replied, arranging
herself in a seat as far from Thrazz as possible, and looking at
his planning table, covered with maps, charts and parchments. "An
unopposed landing is one thing, an actual victory over the elves is
quite another. If they hit us while we're still debarking, the
entire invasion could be in peril."

   "Not likely, sweetheart," Thrazz roared back, then belched.
"This storm's keepin' their flyin' horses down, and we should be
able to get well inland afore they notice."

   "I heard your scouts encountered some archers," she said,
looking over the maps. "This map says that there is an elven
fortress nearby. They are probably from there."

   "Don't worry yer pretty little head, lady. My scouts are movin'
up the road right now. Should be there in less'n an hour, and the
rest of the army right behind."

   "Just hope they haven't sent word to the Silver Tower," she
replied. "If the Lady finds out about this, she could muster all
the Dragon Kings against us."

   "Haw! Got that 'un covered, too, cutie." Thrazz took another
pull on his mug. Damn, Thae'lynn thought, he's drunk already. "Mah
shamans 'r pumpin' out so much magical shit that even if they try
to call for help no one'll hear 'em. We're not as dumb as you think
we are, lady."

   No, she thought, I'd say you were a damn sight dumber. In any
event, Thrazz had covered one of her chief concerns. If the elves
got wind of the invasion too quickly, they'd have a major fight on
their hands before the army was adequately prepared. If the orcish
shamans were sending out interference, the citadel would be
completely isolated and unable to call for help.

   "And keep your troops clear of the area where my priests are
working," Thae'lynn continued, as emotionlessly as possible. "The
magic there could harm them."

   Thrazz nodded, put down the goblet, sloshing smelly black beer
all over his furs, then took up a great joint of meat of uncertain
origin, and took a huge mouthful.

   "Shit, woman," he grumbled, mouth stuffed with half-chewed meat,
"you can't trust us to piss in a pot, can you?"

   She ignored the retort. "That should cover things for now," she
said, starting to rise. "I assume we're still on schedule for a
dawn attack, so I'll take my leave. Good evening."

   Thrazz looked disappointed. "Nah, nah, lady," he bleated,
dropping his meat and reaching out a corpulent, ring-studded green
hand for her. "Feel free to stay awhile. You 'n me, we really
should be closer friends, ya know..."

   "No, I do not know, King Thrazz," Thae'lynn shot back coldly.
"Please listen to me, and note that I speak with all appropriate
respect for your office and dignity. If lay a hand on me, Majesty,
I will cut it off. If you try to force your attentions on me,
Majesty, I will kill you. And believe me, I can do it, even if it
costs me my own life. We are allies, King Thrazz. Allies and no
more. I will leave now."

   She turned, ignoring Thrazz's angry bellows.

   "So, I'm not good enough for ya, ya point-eared bitch?" he
shrieked. "Ya'll fuck anything 'at moves, but not an orc, huh? Fuck
you, ya cunt! Fuck you and all yer fuckin' point-eared
mother-fuckin'..." The voice was swallowed by the wind.

   Thae'lynn resumed her sedan chair and urged her minotaurs on.
She shook with anger. The only thing which kept her rage in check
was the knowledge that soon, soon, the motherless swine would be
unnecessary.

   Very soon.

   Wulf

   We walked for several minutes, going deeper and deeper into the
citadel, past numerous well-guarded portals. Lord Thavaen's
presence gave us free passage, though many of the guards stared at
me, their expressions baffled or openly hostile. At last we came to
a chamber which I reckoned was near the exact center of the palace.

   It was a tall, cylindrical room, columniated and groin-vaulted,
lit by eight mage-globes, set in sconces and evenly spaced around
the walls. A single elven warrior stood beneath each of the globes.
They wore black scaled H Harmor and black dragon-helms, and carried
black-shafted spears. The elite of the elite, I suspected, for the
object they guarded rested on a circular marble platform in the
exact center of the room.

   "The Ruby Chalice," Thavaen said, simply.

   I gazed intently at the object. It was indeed a chalice, and it
was huge -- the size of my head. It wasn't crafted of ruby, but of
ornate silvery, with a ring of cabochon-cut rubies around its brim.
It glowed redly, apparently of its own magical light, and I felt a
sense of wonder as I looked, as if I was in the presence of an
object far more ancient and powerful than its actual appearance
suggested.

   "One of the nine Great Treasures," Thavaen told me. "It was made
countless milennia ago by Vryalla the Smith, one of the greatest
artisans in our history. Whoever drinks from the chalice becomes
greater for it, all his best qualities heightened and perfected. It
also heals all wounds, strengthens the heart and soul, and grants
peace and clarity of vision."

   "Not bad," I replied. "Why doesn't everyone drink from it?"

   "Oh, in the past the Chalice passed through our lands, healing
the sick and granting wisdom and insight to all. But its powers
have a dark side, as so many such powers do. While it heightens
one's strengths, it also heightens weaknesses, bringing out both
the good and evil which live in everyone's hearts. Too many drinks
from it, and the user goes mad, torn apart by the forces that war
within him. The Chalice caused a great war to rend our lands over
three thousand years ago, and once the war was over, it was placed
here under my guardianship. Now, it is only used by the Silver Lady
herself, who drinks from it once every year, and gains the wisdom
and powers of sorcery she needs to rule our lands."

   "Three thousand --" I bit off the words, turning to stare, this
time at Thavaen himself. "That means you're --"

   He nodded. "Ancient, even by elven standards. I have commanded
the White Guard for three milennia, human, and in that time no
enemy has ever set foot within this citadel. Now, it seems, my
service is about to end."

   My mind raced. "Lord," I urged, desperately, "you can't possibly
hold the citadel! I saw their army! You've got to take the Chalice
and get out of here."

   "Impossible." There was no place in the word for compromise or
retreat. "The Chalice cannot leave this place, or it would do
irreparable harm to our realm. If the enemy takes this citadel, it
will be my task to destroy the Chalice, and die with it."

   "Gods."

   "Yes, Gods. I wedded my mortality to this Chalice, thirty
centuries ago. I'm weary now, and another would have had to take my
place soon, for I know my days on this world are ending. Perhaps it
is best that I die in battle, and H Hdestroy the Chalice as my last
act."

   I nodded. Something in his eyes said that there was no changing
his mind.

   "I hope you get help in time."

   We were to be disappointed in that, as well, for as we returned
to Thavaen's audience chamber, a pair of elves in white robes
approached us, their expressions troubled.

   "My Lord," said one, "we tried to reach the Silver Tower, but
the ether is filled with magical dross. We were unable to contact
the Lady."

   "The Winged Ones are closer, though," said the other. "Princess
Nymassa said that she would send warriors to aid us, and would try
to get through to the Silver Lady on our behalf."

   Thavaen's expression did not change, but his words were laced
with deep weariness.

   "Then we must fight on alone, and hope the Winged Ones arrive in
time," he said. "Summon my war-leaders. We must defend the
citadel."

   At that point, I desperately wished that I was somewhere else,
but realized that I didn't have much choice in the matter. Fighting
the urge to strip off my armor, throw down my weapon, and run like
a scared gremlin, I followed Thavaen to the walls, and prepared to
fight.

   Behind us, the sky lightened with approaching dawn. Phaedra's
Flaming Tits, was I about to follow the pointy-eared little creeps
into oblivion?

   At this point, I thought with a sinking heart, the odds were
pretty good that I was.

   Thae'lynn

    Moans tore their way out of Thae'lynn's throat, moans which she
hoped were inaudible over the wind which still roared and thundered
outside, even as the sky around her lightened. Yalvar the tiger
crouched above her, his great, heavily furred paws on either side
of her head, his massive fanged muzzle staring down at her, mouth
parted, lips distended, pink tongue hanging down as he panted
heavily.

   Thae'lynn's slender, black legs encircled the tiger's torso as
the muscular beast drove into her, its long, slender cock
penetrating her again and again with the persistence of pure
instinct.

   Yalvar snarled and growled deeply, its razor-sharp fangs inches
from her throat. Of course, she'd treated it with herbs and spells
so that it was virtually impossible for the great beast to harm or
kill her, but even the illusion of danger, so close to the bare
edge of total ecstasy, drove her pounding heartbeat and deep,
gasping breaths faster and higher.

   This was what she craved -- a passionate male without the
intelligence to demand more than an extra helping of meat after
they were finished. Intelligent males -- and, with some reluctance,
she included humans in this category -- were so demanding...

   Thae'lynn cried out again, feeling the muscles beneath the
tiger's tawny pelt tense and feeling the sheer weight of his great
paws on her shoulders. The great mouth enveloped her face, slapping
its slobbery tongue across her, its spines catching briefly on her
various rings, sending tingles of pain through her, scraping her
flesh, causing her to moan again, mid-way between pain and pleasure
(generally speaking, the place she most enjoyed being). Orgasm
seized her, racing through her heaving body like lightning. Her
moans trailed off as her throat closed up, her back arched, lifting
even the enormous beast atop her. She felt muscles pull painfully
and realized she'd be sore for days, but it was worth it.

   Yalvar seemed to sense her excitement, and thrust away even
harder, a deep growl growing in his throat. His long penis plunged
deeper into her, and she felt another orgasm clench at her from
inside. She cried out again, loudly, feeling moisture all across
her thighs as the tiger continued onward, tongue laving her, hot
breath in her face.

   The tiger didn't seem inclined to stop at this point, but a tiny
part of Thae'lynn realized that she had other business to attend
to. She whispered a few arcane syllables, and without further
delay, Yalvar clambered off of her, ambled to the corner of her
tent, curled up and went to sleep.

   That was the other thing she liked about animals, Thae'lynn
reflected, wiping her face clean with a towel. Once you were done,
you could simply send them away. No whining about not being
finished, or not being able to come, or being "unsatisfied." Hell
and daemons, what were men good for, anyway, besides as convenient
orgasm-hasteners? Yalvar was so much more agreeable, and easily
controllable by magic.

   A voice sounded outside her tent.

   "Dark Lady! The priests report that they are finished!"

   Thae'lynn hastened to clean herself up, step into her robes, don
her mask and gloves. Outside, two obsequious male warriors in black
scale stood, heads bowed.

   "Thank you," she said, absently, clapping her hands for her
minotaurs. "Dismissed."

   The four minotaurs hastily conveyed Thae'lynn to the place where
the priests had been working. They stood proudly beside their
creation, a complex circular pattern of interlinked leaves, runic
script, and protective inscriptions.

   "The work is done, Great Lady!" panted the first.

   "Your enemies shall tremble before the power of the Red Monk!"
drooled the second.

   "They shall worship you!" bawled the third.

   "Thanks," she said, dismounting and approaching the circle.
"You're certain that you've made no mistakes?"

   The priests looked offended. "Great Dark Lady!" H Hexclaimed the
first. "We are priests of the Thirteenth Circle, trusted companions
of the Five Black Hierophants, Guardians of the Mad Mother and
First Brethren of the --"

   "Yes, yes," she said, hastily. "Sorry. Can we begin now?"

   The priests nodded. "Indeed. It is imperative we begin soon, for
dawn is nigh and with it the end of all dark magicks!"

   Without further comment, Thae'lynn and the three priests
positioned themselves around the outside of the circle, raised
their arms toward the stormy heavens, and began to intone garbled,
ritualistic syllables.

   "Great Lord Mazzor, hear us!" shouted the first priest. "Mazzor
n'gath f'thala kirruk!"

   "Aid us in our time of need!" bellowed the second. "Mazzor
n'gath savali thrikk!"

   "Smite our enemies with your hellish rage!" continued the third.
"Zimm Mazzor n'gath!"

   "Hear us, Great Lord Mazzor!" Thae'lynn continued, feeling the
wind whip her robes up and open, but not caring. Besides, these
priests had no interest in seeing anyone naked, let alone a female.
"Mazzor n'gath kufur shirr v'kal!"

   They continued in this manner for some minutes, even as the
eastern sky grew paler with approaching dawn.

   At last the three frenzied cries combined into a single shout,
and a great shaft of flickering red light sprang up from the
circle, like the shadows of a distant fire. Into the circle, as if
rising up from the ground itself, appeared a towering, muscular
figure, as green as if carved form jade, wreathed in flames,
casting dark shadows.

   It had a handsome, face somewhere between human and dragon --
heavy jawed and browed, with long, black hair and a pair of
graceful, shiny black horns. Its eyes were yellow and slitted, and
when its black lips parted, needle-sharp teeth and a long and
flexible tongue was visible. Huge, bat-like wings sprouted from his
back, his arms were powerful and muscular, ending in black talons.
Beneath a hard, rigidly-muscled abdomen, the being stood on
black-furred goatlike legs, between which hung a massive penis, the
size of a man's forearm (Thae'lynn regarded this particular feature
with interest).

   "Who summons me?" the daemon asked, its voice a low rumble.

   "We summon the Great Lord Mazzor!" cried one of the priests in
a frenzy of ecstasy. "We offer ourselves to you!" With that, he
leapt into the circle, to stand without fear before the dreadful
figure.

   Mazzor did not speak, but instead seized the dark elf in a
single taloned hand, breaking his neck instantly, then raising the
still-twitching corpse to his mouth and chewing upon it like a
piece of candy.

   "Mmmm," he boomed. "I've had better, but it'll do. What do you
want?"

   "Help us, Lord," Thae'lynn said. "We march against the light
elves, and beseech your assistance."

   Mazzor laughed. "Ah, always at it, aren't you? You're a choice
piece, dark elf."

   Thae'lynn realized uncomfortably that her robe was still open,
but she did not move to conceal herself. "This body is yours for
pleasure if you like it, Dark Lord," she said. "We ask that you
help us against the light ones."

   Mazzor nodded. "Tempting offer. Perhaps we can talk later.
Raising havoc with those snotty blonde bastards appeals to me right
now, and besides, your priest was relatively satisfying. I'll need
more, of course."

   "Are orcs and goblins to your liking?" Thae'lynn asked.

   "Occasionally. I'd like a few of those elves, as well."

   "Oh, that goes without saying. Have we your aid, then, Dark
Lord?"

   "You do. I will aid your endeavor for so long as it suits me,
and not work to hinder you, so long as I am provided with blood and
souls."

   "Blood and souls," replied one of the surviving priests, while
his fellow rolled and writhed on the ground, shrieking and foaming
at the mouth. "All your Lordship can contain and more!"

   Mazzor jerked a thumb at the jabbering dark elf. "What's his
problem, anyway?"

   Wulf

    They came at us with the rising sun in their eyes. Forget that
bullshit about goblins and orcs not being able to stand the
sunlight. They prefer the dark, true, but they do just fine in the
light. Prolonged exposure makes them uncomfortable and gives them
headaches, but this probably just makes them nastier and more
irritable. These certainly didn't have much problem with the
daylight as they swept toward us in an untidy mass, like millions
of black ants converging on a sugar cube.

   The river was our first line of defense. Naturally, they swarmed
for the bridge, a screaming tide, with little in the way of unit
cohesion or command control. They carried ladders and grappling
hooks, probably planning to take the walls through sheer weight of
numbers. Behind them trundled battering rams, towed by ogres, and
several far more well-disciplined regiments of human warriors in
red and black armor. Of the dark elves there was no sign; either
they didn't have a land contingent (unlikely) or Thae'lynn was
keeping them back, hoping to come in after the major fighting was
over (far more likely).

   At least two hundred had managed to get over the bridge when,
from a nearby battlement, Lord Thavaen looked grave and nodded,
pointing a long finger down at the river. H HLight leapt from his
finger, lancing down, shattering the bridge, sending dozens of
shrieking orcs and smaller, spindlier goblins falling down into the
river below which, swollen by the rains, was now a raging flood.

   Below us, sally ports opened, disgorging ranks of mailed
horsemen, armed with long white lances, thundering forward into the
packed mass of orcs and goblins trapped on our side of the river.
The fight was furious but brief, with the elven lancers cutting
into the milling orcs, impaling many on lances, then hewing about
with swords and axes. For their part, the orcs fought well, but in
the end were forced back into the river and slain to the last (I
was going to say "to a man" but it just didn't seem appropriate).
A dozen or more elven riders lay dead by the river, however, and
the goblins on the opposite bank rained arrows down on the
survivors as they tried to retrieve their comrades' bodies and fall
back on the citadel.

   Behind the goblin archers, who were finally forming up into
ranks that seemed to loosely correspond to regiments, a circle of
feather-and-bone bedecked orcs chanted and screamed, sending
colored puffs of smoke up into the crisp morning air. Thavaen
gestured, sending another bolt of magic at them, but it fell short,
fading into nothingness before it reached them. The shamans' spell
reached a crescendo, and with that a chill blue fog spread out from
them, and where it touched the river, the raging flood slowed,
ceased, and finally turned to contorted white ice.

   Now it was the elves' turn to rain arrows down on their enemies,
as the goblins and orcs formed up and marched with surprising
precision, across the frozen cataract. They moved gingerly, some
slipped, others fell, sprouting white-feathered elven arrows, but
their numbers were great, and they crossed over easily.

   More magic shot down from Thavaen's extended arms, and more orcs
fell, black and smoldering. Some regiments broke and fled, but more
came in to fill the gaps. Behind them came the humans, and ogres
with their battering rams. Once they reached the gates, I thought,
it was only a matter of time.

   But I hadn't reckoned with the elves' magical defenses, for a
coruscating barrier of blue flame sprang up in the teeth of the
orcish advance, incinerating more of them, sending survivors
scurrying back. Ballistae and springals launched volleys of
machine-driven bolts at the enemy, killing still more. The shamans
battled back -- individually they were far less powerful than the
ancient Thavaen, but together they may well have equalled him in
power, for they were able, through sheer brute magical force, to
punch gaping holes in the blue flame barrier, allowing the orcs to
scramble through, looking up, screaming, bestial faces contorted
and taut with anticipation.

   I was startled when the air nearby me was rent, and a thin bolt
of lightning lanced down from above, striking the masonry nearby,
sending a couple of elves falling, burned and screaming. I looked
up -- rain still lashed us and the wind remained stiff, but it
wasn't enough to keep the orcs' flyers down. At least six griffins
soared overhead, along with the writhing form of a wyvern. A human
in wizard's robes floated there, as well, without benefit of a
mount, sending bolts of lightning down at us.

   Momentarily distracted, Thavaen turned his attention toward the
roiling sky, directing a stream of blue-white energy upward,
striking the enemy wizard, sending him whirling off in a miniature
cyclone, vanishing into the clouds. More arrows rattled down around
him, and elven missiles spoke in reply.

   It was enough to relieve the pressure on the advancing orcs
below, however, and they came forward once more, grappling hooks
whirling, ladders poised. In a moment, the ropes and ladders were
in place, black with orcs and goblins scaling precariously upward.
Many ropes were sliced with swords, and ladders toppled, their
occupants sent crashing down to earth to lie, screaming or still,
at the foot of the walls. Once more, however, there were too many.
At least ten orcs climbed the walls for every defender, and with
the elves' attention turned toward them, the ogres were able to
move forward with their battering rams, relatively unmolested.

   Only a matter of time now, I thought grimly, loosing my sword.

   Thae'lynn

    Thae'lynn stood somewhat back, in the cover of the trees,
watching as the orcs and goblins did the lion's share of fighting
and dying. Behind her, the dark elf force -- two thousand infantry
and five hundred lizard-riders, as well as numerous priests,
wizards, seers, scouts and others, stood expectantly. Davalkar and
Zurm, the surviving priests, stood beside her, as did Mazzor, wings
slowly folding and unfolding as he watched the carnage unfold.

   On the walls, tiny figures struggled, and an old, robed elf
unleashed a powerful stream of magic, which physically lifted ten
or twenty goblins, and flung them over the parapets.

   "He is powerful," said Mazzor. "He has an old soul."

   "You want him?" Thae'lynn asked. "Your first sacrifice?"

   Mazzor chuckled. "I will take him, Dark Lady." With that, his
great wings unfurled fully, and he shot into the air, flying toward
the walls.

   Wulf

    My section of the walls had yet to be breached, but below,
mailed elf fighters swung broadswords at hulking orcs or leaping,
darting goblins. So far, we held them, but there were so many...

   Thavaen cast another spell, sending goblins flying off the
walls.

   Suddenly, a deep dread grasped me, as if I knew the moment of my
own death was at hand. I looked up and saw a terrible figure, a
winged, green figure swept up from the woods nearby, casting a
tangible gloom over us as it passed. It was at least twice the
height of a man, and flew at us with tangible hostility.

   Gods, I thought, daemon...

   That's all I had time for, since the urge to turn and flee
caught me in its jaws, and I fell back crouching in terror against
the wall. All around me, the elves were also cringing and crying
out in fear.

   Only Thavaen stood against the thing as it swooped down on him
like a hawk upon a rabbit. He drew his sword, which glowed violet
and crackled with energy, and struck at the thing, catching one of
its great wings, tearing flesh. The daemon shrieked, and then was
on Thavaen, wrapping him up in its powerful arms, biting and
slashing.

   Then Thavaen was on his feet, falling back, blood running freely
over his lean face. He brandished his sword, and for an instant the
two faced each other, Thavaen fearlessly on guard, his sword
sparking and glowing, the daemon standing in a crouch nearby, wings
flapping, claws extended.

   A moment later they clashed together. A rod of red energy sprang
from the daemon's hand, and it clashed with the elf's enchanted
blade, sending balls of white-hot force bouncing off the walls.
Thavaen attacked, but the daemon defended, then counter-attacked,
driving his force-rode into Thavaen's midsection. Thavaen gave
ground, his proud silver armor blackened and twisted. He attacked
again, nicking the daemon's shoulder, but again the green-skinned
thing drove him back.

   All around me the fighting stopped as the two drove at each
other. Orcs and elves stared up at the battle, each silently urging
on his chosen representative.

   A great shout went up from the orcs when the daemon's force-rod
finally connected solidly with Thavaen's neck. The old elf gasped
and fell, desperately throwing up his sword to defend himself, but
the daemon batted it away, and plunged its weapon into his throat.
The elf died silently, face serene, then the daemon seized his body
and took a huge bite from it, and screamed in triumph.

   Despair seized the defenders, but still they fought. The day was
lost, I knew it. And, with horror, I further realized that with
Thavaen dead, the Chalice could not be destroyed. Before I could
think further, at least four goblins appeared, flinging themselves
at me with shrieks and maddened grins.

   I fought as best I could, killing two before the third slipped
in and jabbed with his dagger. My mail stopped the brunt of the
blow, but as I defended myself, the last H Hgoblin leaped onto my
back, short sword flashing. I felt my flesh part, blood gush...

   Gods, not now... Gods... I fell, feeling the goblins surge over
me, knives stabbing.

   Then one of them screamed and fell, two arrows piercing its
brain. The last one tried to run, but he, too fell, an arrow in his
neck.

   I looked up. Imral stood before me, casting me a sad, brooding
look beneath the brow of his high helm. He lowered his longbow.

   "We're even, human," he said, then turned and flung himself back
into battle. A moment later, his corpse, streaming blood, armor
rent in a dozen places, went flying from the battlements to land at
the foot of the Citadel's walls.

   Perhaps we were even, but the gobs had managed to slice me up a
treat. Red blood ran down my neck, staining my armor and the stone
floor beneath me, and I felt weak and light-headed. Gods... I
staggered to my feet, but could barely stay upright.

   Suddenly, one of the griffins fell ponderously past me, bouncing
off a battlement, and crashing to the earth below. Looking up once
more I saw a wondrous sight.

   Hundreds of slender, winged forms flew in the air overhead.
Elves, by the look of them, but pale blue-skinned, their backs
sprouting white, downy wings. They dressed in light leather
harnesses and carried white bows and slim black swords; they
swooped down upon the orcs, slashing or dragging them from the
battlements. Others seized elven defenders, pulling them to safety.


   It was the Winged Ones which Lord Thavaen had spoken of, but
they were too late. The Citadel had clearly fallen. Below, the
gates were stoved in and a black tide raced inside. All the flyers
could do was rescue as many survivors as they could.

   I stumbled and fell, a wave of dizziness passing over me. Would
they see me, I wondered? Did it matter? Perhaps I should just
sleep... Did it matter, really...?

   When strong hands grabbed me beneath my arms, and I unexpectedly
took to the air, the fallen citadel tilting wildly and receding
behind me, however, I thought that, perhaps, it did matter...

   Thae'lynn

    The triumphant orcs celebrated late into the night, burning,
looting, singing, drinking, smashing things, and generally doing
what orcs do. The humans, reavers and Slaerthists, were a bit more
restrained, but seemed to enjoy the victory as well.

   "We did it! We did it!" exulted King Thrazz, parading past
Thae'lynn, who sat, quiet and reserved, on her sedan chair. The orc
chieftain carried handfuls of loot -- jewels, chains, robes, and,
clutched in one massive paw, a H Hhuge silver chalice, intricately
wrought and set with rubies. "Lookie this, love! Perfect fer my
collection!"

   Thrazz paused, and cast Thae'lynn a glance which might actually
have contained some gratitude. "And thanks for that monster of
yours," he said. "It sure as hell sent those elf-boys runnin'!"

   "Don't mention it," Thae'lynn replied. Mazzor had thanked her
profusely for the old elf's soul, which he said was one of the most
ancient he'd ever taken, then vanished back into the circle,
promising to return the following dawn. For her part, Thae'lynn
hoped the daemon was good to his word, for she had other tasks to
request of him.

   Hoping for further response, Thrazz looked disappointed
(probably as disappointed as he'd been when informed that the
citadel contained no elven maidens for him to ravish), and
continued on his revel, eventually joining an untidy crowd of orcs
an ogres, singing incoherently.

   Thae'lynn drew a deep breath. The day's carnage had been truly
stimulating. Her brief interlude with Yalvar now seemed little more
than the curtain-raiser, and wilder debaucheries now lay before
her, smoldering darkly in her imagination.

   She poked the lead minotaur with her goad.

   "Rak," she said, and the great bull-head swiveled to look at
her. "In the mood for some entertainment?"

   "Mmmmm," grunted the minotaur. "We serve our mistress..."

   Thae'lynn smiled.

   *    *    *    *

    The minotaurs were named Rak, the largest and most impressive
of the bunch -- Thae'lynn's favorite, not surprisingly -- Thag,
Gshar, and Nur. Thae'lynn often confused them with each other
(except Rak, of course), but it really didn't matter that much. All
had the requisite enthusiasm, and were well equipped for their
duties, namely carrying Thae'lynn everywhere without protest, and
pleasuring her as roughly as they could manage.

   This they were now engaged in doing, and Thae'lynn, fired by the
bloodshed at the citadel, and excited at the coming of Mazzor, was
certainly in the mood for rough pleasuring.

   Currently, she was on her knees, emitting sounds midway between
yelps and groans as behind her, Rak fitted his thick cock into the
soft envelope between her thighs and thrust inside. His first
thrust drove her down onto her forearms, hands balled into fists.

   Rak's organ was not terribly long (though it certainly had the
average dark elf male beaten by several imperial leagues), but it
was thick. Thae'lynn reflected that she preferred it this way,
feeling her cunt expand and stretch to accommodate it, then the
sudden moment of relief as he pulled out, only to plunge in yet
again.

   That wasn't all that made Rak's organ so enjoyable. True to
form, Thae'lynn had had no less than eight large metal rings set
along the underside of the minotaur's cock, and she felt them drag
along the soft tissue of her cunt as Rak's impassioned, feverish
fucking continued.

   "Oh, yes..." Coherent words were very difficult to form as Rak
drove in and out, hotly slick now with the uncontrolled flow of
Thae'lynn's pussy. "Thag. I want to suck you..."

   Obediently, the second minotaur shambled forward, his
blackly-shining bull's eyes inscrutable, but his mouth open and
panting with excitement. She eagerly lapped at the tumescent organ
before her. This one was set with four rings around its
circumference, and though the minotaur bore numerous bovine
features, the organ itself was thick and knobbed at one end, like
that of an elf or human. The smooth, heated flesh rapidly grew
wetter and harder beneath the ministrations of her tongue, and
Thae'lynn was so far gone that she did not object when the great
beast finally seized her head in two oversized hands, and drove his
great cock straight into her mouth.

   Sucking hard, feeling her tongue-bar click against the
minotaur's rings, Thae'lynn reached a hand back to stroke and tug
at her ring-set clit, feeling sensations redouble, then redouble
again, as her fingers rubbed and squeezed repeatedly. Oh, yes... it
was coming... yes...

   Thae'lynn pulled down hard on her clit-ring, and unleashed a
torrential orgasm, contractions racing through her body, further
intensified by Rak's continuing thrusts, and the hard, unyielding
sensation of his eight rings against her sensitive flesh.

   "Ohh... mmm..." she released Thag for a moment to take in a deep
gulp of air, then sucked more. Rak continued to fuck her, thrusting
almost directly downward into her cunt even as she squeezed and
bucked beneath him. Then he bellowed in a strange amalgam of human
and bull, and released the contents of his pendulous balls,
flooding Thae'lynn with hot semen, then pulling out, trailing hot
white streamers across the black flesh of her ass and thighs.

   Rak knew what to do -- he slunk back into the shadows, leaving
the mistress to his remaining three fellows. Gshar, seeing Rak bow
out, moved into position behind Thae'lynn, prepared to continue
where he had left off. His cock was longer, thinner, and smooth,
devoid of piercings, but Thae'lynn enjoyed the varied sensations
regardless.

   "Wait, Gshar," she hissed, urgently. "Lie on your back."

   As Gshar positioned himself beneath her, long cock standing
straight, a glistening tower for her to conquer and envelop, and
Thag once more moved in front of her, cock available for her mouth,
Thae'lynn fumbled beside the bed and dragged forth a handful of
fine chains, each about the H Hlength of her forearm, set with
clasps at either end.

   "Oh, you know what I want, don't you, Thag?" she breathed
heavily, stroking the thick, spit-slick organ. She attached four
chains to the minotaur's cock, one to each ring, then clasped the
opposite ends to her own face, two each to lip-rings and earrings.
"Careful, beloved pet," she whispered. "You could do untold damage
to either of us if you don't control yourself."

   "Mmmmm... Mistress good," grumbled Thag, then placed his cock
back between Thae'lynn's lips and began to once more slip it into
her mouth.

   Thae'lynn grunted hungrily, swallowing the minotaur-cock,
feeling the chains run along the soft skin of her lips, tug at her
rings... Gods...

   Now, she reached down and stroked Gshar's cock against her
swollen cunt-lips, across her studded clit, then finally allowed it
to enter her. She cried out, muffled by the smooth minotaur organ
now sliding down her throat, and began to rise and fall, eagerly
riding Gshar as Thag's cock, bound to her now by chains, thrust
with increasing speed and animal enthusiasm.

   Gshar came first, bellowing and roaring, long cock pumping a
flood of semen into the moist, lubricated depths of her pussy. She
kept him inside her, feeling the hot liquid leak out as she sucked
Thag harder, finally feeling him tense with coming orgasm. She
braced herself for his onslaught, then felt the hot, salty come
explode into her mouth, covering tongue and lips, sliding down her
throat as she swallowed hard.

   Stay in me, darling, Thae'lynn thought. Keep that beautiful
animal cock in my mouth... Don't pull out now, dearest, or you'll
do us both considerable harm. You more than me, might I add...

   At last, Thag's convulsions subsided, and he slowly slid out,
his erection softening. She fumbled with the cock, slick with
spittle and semen, unfastening the clasps, and allowing Thag to
finally remove himself. She disengaged herself from Gshar, who was
half-asleep anyway, and unceremoniously kicked him off her bed.

   She glanced over at Nur, her last minotaur, who sat, looking
rather peeved, at the foot of the bed.

   "Oh, darling pet," she sighed, wiping her face clean with a
small towel. "So sorry. I'll see to you next time. Now get out, all
of you."

   Bowing and snorting, the minotaurs obeyed, leaving Thae'lynn to
lounge, in her naked, temporarily sated splendor, amid the
cushions, silks and furs of her bed.

   Thrazz

    His Majesty, King Thrazz, one hundred and thirteenth Lord of
the Iron Gate, slayer of Sir Murris the Red, Master of Nine Tribes,
and owner of one of the most extensive collection of mugs in all
the orcish realms, admired his latest addition.

   It was old, and obviously of elvish manufacture, but Thrazz
figured he'd keep it anyway. In fact, given the fact that the
pointy-eared little fuckers seemed to really treasure such things,
it would probably royally piss them off to see him keeping it and
drinking from it like a favorite ale-cup.

   "BEER!" he bellowed, sending his goblin slaves scurrying. "BRING
ME BEEEEEERR!"

   Three goblins tottered into Thrazz's tent, straining under the
weight of a massive beer cask. Three more goblins attempted to help
them, succeeded only in tripping up their fellows, and the keg fell
to the floor, rolling along, to stop, thankfully still intact and
sealed, at the foot of Thrazz's throne.

   "Oooohhh..." moaned one of the goblins, nursing a bruised head
where the barrel had fallen on it.

   Thrazz ignored the goblins as they scrambled back to their
places outside his tent, then with a single blow from his mighty,
ring-studded fist, stove in the top of the barrel and dipped the
elf-goblet into its foaming contents.

   A tingle passed through Thrazz's arm, and he was suddenly
overwhelmed by the desire to drink from the goblet. Hastily, he
pressed it to his lips and drank in deep, gulping swallows.

   Great Grunk's flaming prick, it was good... He hadn't remembered
this vintage being so tasty, so satisfying, so very, very...

   "Delightful," Thrazz muttered. "Most delightful. A virtual feast
for the palate."

   Thrazz frowned. What the hell... How did he know those words...?

   He took another swallow. If the first drink had been good, this
one was nothing short of etherial. The liquid slid luxuriantly down
his throat and reached out warm, gentle tentacles throughout
Thrazz's body.

   A wonder... a song issuing from unseen orchestras... the
fluttering touch of angels...

   Thrazz shook his head, and carefully set the goblet down. Damn!
He searched for parchment and a pen.

   Thrazz, Great Orc Chieftain, whose hoard back in his
palace-cavern contained the skulls of over one hundred rivals, and
who had journeyed to these shores in search of plunder, pillage and
rapine, suddenly wanted to write a poem.

   Thae'lynn

    She felt refreshed, renewed, and generally fucked senseless --
a state to which she felt near-addicted. Hm, where could she put
another ring, she wondered?

   With her minotaurs out of action temporarily (let them rest,
poor things), Thae'lynn walked alone down the elf-road, toward the
magic circle. She carried sufficient magical protection to detect
and strike down any lurking elves who might want to take a shot at
her, but she was unconcerned. Thrazz's warriors, as well as the
bloodthirsty human Slaerthists in their glowing red or bilious
green armor had hunted down virtually every living thing within a
day's march of the Chalice Citadel. Goblin and ogre work crews
labored to fell trees, building great siege towers, ballistae,
trebuchets, battering rams, and other siege engines. They also
slashed down the ancient trees and burned them simply for the fun
of it, and to enrage the elves.

   Ahead of her, deep in the shadows of approaching evening, the
magic circle still flickered and smoldered.

   "Mazzor!" she shouted. "I summon you!"

   The daemon-lord rose from the circle, smiling thinly. "Who are
you to summon me, woman?" he asked. "I serve with you of my own
free will, not because of your puny magicks."

   "It doesn't matter," Thae'lynn shot back. "The army will be
moving out soon, and we want you to accompany us."

   Mazzor nodded. "If there are more such as the elf-lord in these
isles, I will come."

   "Perhaps we will give you the Silver Lady herself," Thae'lynn
said. "Of course, I have my own plans for her... You can have her
when I and Thrazz's orcs have finished with her."

   "It matters little," Mazzor replied. "I sense that you have a
further request of me."

   Thae'lynn nodded. "I do not wish conquest here, daemon-lord. I
wish carnage. I wish to see the elven realms so thoroughly
devastated that they will never rise up again. I wish to see the
high elves exterminated, or reduced to utter savagery, so that my
people can take their place."

   "With you as their queen, I suppose?"

   "More than queen, daemon-lord. I want absolute power."

   "Power comes with a price, dark elf."

   Thae'lynn rolled her eyes. "Stop talking like a character in a
bad opera, Mazzor. I know the consequences of my actions. I'm
simply asking you to help me kill as many elves as possible."

   "That's what I'm here to do."

   She shook her head. "No. I want more. That gate was created to
summon you, and allow you access to your realm. I want it opened
fully, and I want the creatures of your realm to emerge. I want
them to run rampant through the elven isles, killing and destroying
everything in their path."

   A rumbling laugh echoed in Mazzor's deep chest. "Do you know
what you're asking, woman?"

   "Of course I do. Once the gate is open, the creatures of hell
have unlimited access to this world. But you can control them,
Mazzor. And I want to keep you as my ally."

   "What do you offer me in return?"

   Thae'lynn considered this. "Whatever is in my power to give,
Mazzor. Anything, short of my own soul and freedom."

   The daemon smiled darkly. "Your body?"

   "Gladly," Thae'lynn replied. "That has always been available to
your lordship, though you know I generally prefer males who lack
the power of speech and reason."

   "I can certainly be an animal, if that is what gives you
pleasure," Mazzor boomed. "I like you, dark elf. I like you very
much. We think alike in many ways."
  The Red and the Green
                               Part 3

   [In Parts 1 and 2, Wulf the Freelance is captured and toyed with
by the dark elf admiral, Lady Thae'lynn, but escapes to warn the
elves of the invasion by the dark elves and their orcish allies.
Thae'lynn meanwhile summons the daemon-lord Mazzor and plots to
displace Thrazz, the orc-lord as leader of the invasion and new
ruler of the elven isles. Wulf, meanwhile, participates in the
defense of the Chalice Citadel, but its elven defenders are
overwhelmed, and Wulf rescued at the last moment by a female winged
sky-elf.]

   [THIS STORY IS NOT FOR DISTRIBUTION TO INDIVIDUALS UNDER
EIGHTEEN YEARS OF AGE]

   Wulf

    I crawled back to consciousness with all the enthusiasm of a
starving Idrianic cenobite climbing to the top of Mount Thunder. I
finally began to think about dragging my eyelids open, when a
gentle touch on my shoulders brought me to full alertness.

   I was in a round, domed chamber, lit with a soft, pale white
light. I lay on a low platform, covered in a soft white blanket,
but the room was otherwise featureless.

   The individual touching me was what grabbed my attention,
however. She was tall, slender, her skin a pale blue, her hair
snow-white. Her face was finely-chiseled, with light blue eyes and
thin, strong lips. She was clad in a light white half-tunic which
hung down just below her small breasts, leaving her midriff bare,
a soft expanse of subtle blue. A long white loincloth, embroidered
with a blue design, hung down between her muscular thighs, one of
which was encircled by a jeweled silver band. She touched me with
delicate, unnaturally long fingers, but none of these were her most
remarkable feature.

   It was the wings. A pair of great, white-feathered wings, like
those of the angels in those damnable Kyborist murals of the dull
pleasures of paradise, rose gracefully from her back. They were
huge and soft-seeming, and gazing at them, the last moments of the
battle at the citadel returned to me.

   "Winged One..." I said, weakly, feeling a wave of darkness sweep
over me as I did so. Gods, how much blood had I lost...

   "Peace on you," she replied, putting one of her long, thin
fingers against my lips. "You are badly wounded. I am Nyss, of the
sky elves. You are human, yet you wore elven armor, and fought
beside the High Ones. I took you from the battlements, and brought
you to our mountains. Other wounded fighters are here, and we must
heal them."

   "Wulf. Pleased to meet you." I nodded, thinking a long
convalescence lay ahead of me, but feeling that, if Nyss was to be
my nurse, it would be a relatively pleasant one.

   As usual, I figured wrong, though the results were more pleasant
than I could have imagined. Nyss stepped to the foot of my
bed-platform, and tugged the sheet off, revealing my pale, naked
body beneath. I was too weak to protest, but stared at her
curiously.

   She met my gaze. "You do not know our ways. My people heal by
sharing the force of our souls with the wounded and sick. We take
your hurt on ourselves and expel it."

   I was wondering exactly how they went about sharing the force of
their souls, when she answered my question by sliding her long
fingers up my thighs to cradle my shrunken cock. The awful truth
began to dawn on me.

   Despite the fact that I was about to protest that my battered
body wasn't about to rise to the occasion, I felt a wave of warmth
through me as Nyss touched me, and felt my cock stir. Hudrin and
Thymar, it seemed to be working...

   "Ahhhh," I sighed. "Is this really how you make healing magic?"

   "It is the most basic of interactions between male and female,"
Nyss replied, stroking gently, watching with approval as my organ
slowly rose to prominence. "Sharing of bodies involves the sharing
of souls, after all."

   I'd never thought of it that way, but upon reflection, I
realized she was probably correct.

   "They never taught this kind of healing at the Magic Academy,"
I commented. "Then again, I can't really say for sure... It might
have been second-year stuff."

   She didn't reply, but instead stepped up onto the platform,
slipping between my legs, and continuing to stroke, encircling my
now-tumescent organ with her hand. The warmth continued to build
inside me, and I felt pain and weariness begin to recede. Gods, if
they taught this technique outside the Elven Isles, people would be
lining up to get wounded...

   "It's good to see a patient so responsive to treatment," she
said softly, then lowered her head and gently grazed her blue-black
lips across my now-erect cock. I felt a sudden wave of lust, as
well as an increase in my overall outlook.

   "Yes," I said. "That feels very good."

   "It should," she replied. "And this should feel even better."
With that, she placed her lips around my glans, tongue flicking at
the opening, and slowly sucked me into her mouth.

   The sensations were amazing, a combination of the satisfaction
derived from a good meal, a terrific sleep, and a hard fuck, all at
once. And she was just getting started. I couldn't help but smile
as she sucked, licked, released me, pulled at my cock with long,
delicate fingers, and then sucked me some more, saliva slickening
my tight, hot skin. Above us, her wings spread like a canopy,
waving and shaking slightly as she swallowed me once more.

   She stopped and pulled off her shift -- laced and cut in such a
way that she could remove it without interfering H Hwith her wings,
and strode up my chest, on her knees, presenting a pair of small,
pale blue breasts for my attention.

   "Though we are motivated by a desire to help others," she said,
"we like to enjoy our work as well. Apply yourself to these, Wulf."

   "Gladly," I replied, reaching up with new born vitality,
stroking the small, soft prominences, poking her dark blue nipples
with my tongue, watching with satisfaction as they hardened into
swollen nodules nearly the length of my first knuckle.

   "Like it?" I asked.

   "Oh, yes," she said back, voice soft and inviting. "You make my
work much more enjoyable."

   "I can do even better," I said. "Want my tongue elsewhere?"

   "It certainly can't hurt," she said. "You seem to be regaining
your strength with great efficiency."

   "Just watch me."

   She raised up her long breechclout, and I saw that her
white-haired cunt was exposed beneath it.

   "Let me lick you," I said.

   "You don't have to ask that twice," she replied, placing her
knees on either side of my head, and lowering herself to my mouth.

   I encircled her buttocks with my hands, and pulled her cunt to
my mouth. My tongue sought out clit and cunt-lips, and tasted sweet
moisture. I stroked her from perineum to clitoris, then slid a
finger into her.

   "Very good, Wulf," Nyss said. "Very, very good."

   As I licked, tongue cleaving her pussy, teasing clit, then
thrusting fingers inside her, she began to move, rhythmically
pressing herself against my mouth, her hands caressing my hair. I
reached up and pinched her distended nipples, applying pressure
until I heard her moan wordlessly.

   "Squeeze them, Wulf," she whispered. "Lick me, and squeeze my
nipples..."

   I licked harder, then gently nibbled at her clit, pressing my
teeth against it softly as it swelled and throbbed. Her cunt
pressed down on my fingers, her thighs squeezed together against
me.

   "I'm..." she gasped. "Wulf, I'm..."

   I didn't need to hear the next word, for she suddenly tensed,
grinding her cunt against my face, thrusting down onto my engulfed
fingers.

   "Coming... Commmmmingggg....." She cried out, then fell forward
against me. I stroked her back gently, whispering to her.

   She accepted my caresses for a few moments, then rose up, a
determined look in her eyes.

   "We finish, now," she said. "You've recovered well, but I must
finish, or the healing won't last."

   I didn't object as she moved astride my hip, holding H Hmy
still-erect cock, and fitting it against her cunt.

   "Now, in the name of the gods," she said, I assumed
ceremonially, "I heal you, and send away your pain."

   With that, she dropped onto me, my cock plunging into her cunt,
still sopping from her orgasm and the attentions of my tongue.

   Again, the warm sense of healing and serenity, mixed with
passion and desire, raced through me. She was tight, and her cunt
held me firmly, stroking me like a dozen warm tongues. She rose up,
and my cock stood in the air, then vanished into her cunt once
more. She was magnificent, a pale blue angel, white hair tossing,
great wings rearing up like marble arches, face flushed with
exertion, eyes locked on mine, urging me onward, thighs gripping
me, cunt tight against my cock...

   With my returning vitality, and the excitement of making Nyss
come still fresh in my mind, it wasn't long before a hot explosion
built up inside me. I looked at her small, knob-nippled breasts,
and her face, lips parted and panting, moist with saliva, eyes half
shut with passion, and that was it.

   I groaned. "Nyss..." I grunted through clenched teeth. "You're
making me... Making me come..."

   Then it happened, my cock contracting, gushing come inside Nyss.
She emitted a single, short cry of exultation, whether it was her
own pleasure, or satisfaction at mine, I couldn't tell, but my own
orgasm went on for several seconds, finally subsiding into quiet
aftershocks.

   "Sleep now," she said, gently. "Sleep and let our healing do its
work."

   "Thank you," I said, softly, feeling sleep tug at me. "You're so
beautiful... Thank you."

   "No," she said as I crossed the barrier into slumber. "No, thank
you, Wulf. I haven't enjoyed a healing this much in many months."

   I was glad.

   Thae'lynn

   

   The magic circle glowed with a flickering, fiery light. Mazzor
waved his taloned hands over it, summoning shadows, which drew
themselves forth and coalesced on the hard surface of the elf road.
There, they grew solid and transformed into a throng of gibbering,
malformed creatures -- winged, tentacled, taloned, with gaping
maws, clashing fangs, glaring eyes, and all manner of hideous
appendages.

   "My horde comes forth," Mazzor said, infernal joy laced with
each syllable. "They shall do great harm to the land of the elves,
and aid you in your endeavors."

   Thae'lynn watched with satisfaction as Mazzor waved a great,
muscular arm, and the horde scattered, bounding, crawling,
flapping, galloping, or running, into the forests, their malign
intent made manifest in their screams and howls of bloodlust.

   "Well done, Dark Lord," she said, smiling. The minotaurs held
her platform motionless, and seemed entirely unmoved by the
frightening spectacle. "I think our alliance is definitely off on
the right foot."

   Mazzor nodded. "I have not done battle in the mortal realms for
many years. It is good that you brought me here."

   Thae'lynn's eyes narrowed, and her smile grew wider, and
thinner, like a scimitar.

   "The Citadel has fallen, Great Lord," she purred. "It will be
another day or so before the army is on the move."

   "Yes?" The question hovered, expectantly, though Thae'lynn
suspected that the daemon lord knew what she intended.

   "Join me at the Citadel, My Lord. I will wait for you there,
naked. I want you to come to me, and take my body for your
pleasure."

   "Hm hm." It might have been laughter. "The prospect pleases me,
Dark Lady. Your body is indeed sweet, and I would taste it with
great enthusiasm."

   Her heart suddenly raced, and she felt her hand tremble as she
reached out to touch the daemon-lord's shoulder.

   "Give me any pleasure you desire," she whispered. "I will beg
for it, and accept it gladly. I ask only that you do no permanent
harm."

   "That," replied Mazzor, "is not likely. I wish you to remain as
you are, and wish to remain your ally for a very long time."

   "So it shall be, Dark Lord," Thae'lynn said. "I will be waiting
for you. You!" She kicked Rak and urged him forward. "To the
citadel, and be quick!"

   The minotaurs dutifully bore her down the road, toward the
fallen citadel. Thae'lynn could barely restrain her excitement, but
she knew that pleasure delayed was pleasure increased, and was
willing to let her desire age and intensify, like a cask of
expensive wine.

   Oh, how she wanted him. And soon, soon (but not TOO soon, she
told herself), she would have him.

   Wulf

    Nyss was there when I awoke once more, watching me quietly as
I stretched and marveled at my overall feeling of health and
well-being. Of course, getting screwed silly often improves my
outlook, but this had been a truly healing experience -- to my own
astonishment, I saw that I lacked even scars.

   She noted my reaction.

   "Our healing magic is very ancient," she said. "As well as both
effective and enjoyable."

   "Probably the best healing I've ever gotten," I agreed. "So
what's next for me?"

   "The survivors from the Citadel are to be transported to the
Silver Tower. We've tried to contact the Lady, but the enemy is
interfering with our magical communications. We'll be flying to
speak with her directly, and taking the survivors with us."

   I nodded. "I'm not really a combatant," I told her. "I'm just a
human traveler caught in the middle. I get the impression that a
lot of your people don't even want me here despoiling your fair
soil."

   "Not my people," she said, scornfully. "The high ones of the
land are an arrogant and insular bunch. Some of them don't even
think the sky folk should be here, despite the fact that we are
related."

   "Related? How?"

   "No one knows for certain. The legend is that the last survivors
of a destroyed elven nation prayed for deliverance and were granted
wings by the gods, so that they could escape. It's a good story.
Might even be true."

   I let it pass. "So when do we leave?"

   "That's what I came to tell you -- we leave as soon as
possible."

   "Meaning now?"

   "Meaning now." She handed over a bundle of clothing -- a tunic,
trousers, boots and traveling cloak. "Get dressed and come with
me."

   I complied, rising, feeling rested, refreshed, and totally
without fatigue from my terrible ordeal. "Will I see you again?" I
asked.

   She smiled. "We get that request quite a bit. I'm not adverse to
the suggestion, but I see myself as a healer, rather than a lover.
What I did was an act of mercy, not of love."

   "But you can't see it that way," I complained, pulling on my
tunic and belting it. The craftsmanship was exquisite -- it was
light and comfortable, but also tough and warm, a mottled green
color. "You must feel some affection for the people you heal."

   "I do," she replied, "but it's the affection of a healer toward
those she heals, rather than that of a lover for her love. I don't
discount the possibility, mind you. If you live through all this,
perhaps I will see you again."

   I shrugged. I'd heard that line before. "Perhaps."

   She led me down a smooth, white corridor, past several
vast-looking chambers, and finally through an open door and
outside, to a long, narrow shelf of rock.

   My heart lurched. A chill wind raked us. The shelf was at least
a half mile long, with similar doors all along its length. Above us
rose vast granite ramparts, snow-capped and forbidding, while
below, the shelf dropped off into a sickeningly sheer descent, down
into misty distances.

   Nyss shook her head at my discomfiture. "Land dwellers," she
said, a touch of scorn in her voice. "They always react this way."

   "It's natural for us," I said, still glancing nervously down the
drop-off.

   Other sky-elves emerged from the remaining doors, accompanied by
wingless elves in garments similar to mind. Unhesitating, the pairs
sprang from the cliff, dropping off into the void, then soaring up,
dwindling away in the distance.

   "We're going to do that?" I demanded. "Are you sure I can't just
climb down to..."

   My words trailed off into a scream when, without further
ceremony, grabbed me under the arms and leaped from the rock shelf,
carrying us both off into empty space.

   I kept screaming as we plunged sharply down, cold wind ripping
at me, the fractured granite wall flashing past. I felt the wind
catch at Nyss' great, feathered wings, and she suddenly swung
violently upward, her strong arms holding me close despite the
insistent pull of gravity, and we soared, toward the stormy grey of
the sky, and away from the Winged Ones' mountains.

   "There," she said, solicitously, "that wasn't so bad, was it?"

   "Yes it was!" I shot back. "You could have at least warned me!"

   "But it's no fun that way!"

   I shut up and we flew onward.

   The storm still raged overhead. Wind and rain lashed at us, but
Nyss' powerful wings kept us aloft. The cold granite foothills
merged into rolling hills, thick with shaggy evergreens.

   "How far is it?" I asked.

   "Bored already?" She replied, still jovial. "Another couple of
hours flying time. Get comfortable."

   I sighed. Her arms held me tight, and her wings beat strongly,
keeping us aloft with broad strokes, rushing loudly over the wind.
I was somewhat cold, but the elven cloak kept out most of the
chill. My legs hung down into space, a sensation which I tried to
ignore, but my natural fear of heights continued to trouble me.

   We went on like this for the better part of an hour before
Wulf's luck once more screwed us over.

   "What the hell are those?" Nyss demanded. Casting wild glandes
around me, I finally saw a cloud of winged forms rising up from the
forest below.

   "Nothing I've ever seen," I replied, and meant it. These were
wildly various creatures. Some were like spindly red humans with
webby bat-wings; others resembled animals with thin, translucent
wings like dragonflies; still others were indescribably insect-like
creatures which spun and darted alarmingly.

   "Gods," Nyss muttered. Her wings beat faster, trying to
outdistance the things, which had caught sight of us and were
moving our way in an untidy swarm.

   "Anything I can do?" I asked.

   "Yes! Hold still!" came the reply. I complied, heart pounding.

   Perhaps she could have outdistanced the things if she hadn't
been burdened with a sizeable human male. As it was, the swarm was
on us in a moment. A winged wolf-like thing snapped at me, jaws
clamping onto my leg. Pain lanced through me once more, and with
growing alarm I saw an insect-creature lash out with a long
stinger, striking Nyss between her graceful white wings.

   Nyss spun in the air, crying out in pain. Her grip on me
weakened, and I felt myself falling.

   "Wulf!" Her voice was wild and full of concern, but there was
little she could do. An instant later, I slipped from her grasp,
and tumbled through open air, the beautiful sky-elf dwindling as I
fell.

   I plunged downward into the unwelcoming arms of the shaggy firs,
grabbing branches, slowing my descent. The small branches beneath
me cracked and snapped, until at last I pitched up against a heavy
branch that supported my weight.

   I hugged the rough trunk for long minutes, until my heart
finally slowed and my breath came easier. At last, I eased myself
down from branch to branch, finally dropping down the last ten feet
to land, heavily, on the needle-strewn loam below.

   *  *  *  *

   Thae'lynn

    The Citadel was little more than a gutted shell in most areas,
but Thae'lynn made certain that the commander's living quarters
were left alone by the rampaging orcs. She had her own plans for
the spacious bedchamber. She had lit it dimly with pale blue lamps,
but otherwise left it intact, with its huge, soft bed in the
center, beneath a soaring, groin-vaulted ceiling.

   She lay, naked, legs slightly spread, fingers busy between them,
alternately tugging at her clit-ring and stroking the swollen nub
itself, occasionally touching the dozen rings which decorated her
labia. She'd put an extra-large ring on her clitoris this time,
easily large enough to put an entire finger through and pull.
Outside, she heard footsteps approaching, and her pulse quickened.

   "Enter, My Lord," she said, breathily, as a towering, winged
shadow filled the doorway.

   Mazzor the Daemonlord bent low to enter the chamber, and stepped
through. He rose above her, a statue cast of dark jade, his vast
wings like a black cape behind him.

   "Ah," she sighed, writhing slightly. The daqemon was naked, and
his thick, knob-headed organ rose erect from his loins, easily the
length of a man's forearm, darkening to nearly black at its tip.
She wasn't about to consider how to get that damned thing inside
her at this point, but she'd figure something out eventually.

   "I see you have prepared yourself," Mazzor rumbled. "Females
usually fear me."

   "With good reason, considering that polearm you carry between
your legs," Thae'lynn replied, sitting up, holding her arms tightly
together so that her breasts bulged out, nipple-bars gleaming blue
and silver. "You like what I have to offer?"

   He nodded. "I do, indeed, Dark Lady. If you wish an alliance of
flesh as well as cause, I am only too willing to cooperate."

   "I think," Thae'lynn replied, "that it would be obvious by this
time." Her gaze wandered over him, taking in horned head, bestial
features, and richly muscled physique. "I told you -- I want you
for my lover, Dark Lord."

   Mazzor chuckled again. "It might discomfort you."

   "So long as I emerge intact, I don't care. I like some forms of
discomfort."

   "Hm. No surprise there, lady." He held out his organ, still as
massive and prominent as a battering ram. "Don't worry. My
dimensions are somewhat... changeable."

   "Ah, I see. You expand or contract to fit the required
dimensions."

   Mazzor approached the bed, producing a rushing sound as his
wings passed through the air. "In a sense, yes. The fit is usually
rather tight regardless. Would you like to experiment?"

   "Oh, yes," Thae'lynn said, unable to keep the excitement out of
her voice as she rose to her knees and moved eagerly toward the
demon. "I would, indeed."

   She took the great member between her hands; it was long enough
for both her hands and more, and so thick that her fingers did not
meet on the other side. It was hot -- so hot as to be nearly
uncomfortable, and it exuded a light, slick sheen, so that her
hands slipped easily along its length as she stroked, eyeing it
hungrily.

   "Mmmm," murmured the demon. His cock throbbed and sprang out
another inch.

   "Goddess of Pleasure," she whispered, and flicked her tongue
across the hot surface of his glans. To her surprise, she
discovered that, as the demon's prick lengthened, it grew somewhat
thinner, though her fingers still did not completely encircle the
massive shaft.

   "Try your mouth, Dark One," Mazzor suggested. "See what
happens."

   "I'll try, lover," she replied. "I guarantee nothing..."

   With that, she opened her mouth as far as she could, and applied
it to the straining head of the demon cock. It was hot, almost
burning, slick with whatever bizarre secretion the demon produced,
and she was further astonished when it suddenly thinned and
lengthened simultaneously, bulging into her mouth.

   "Mmff," she grunted, voice muffled. Now, though it filled her
mouth completely, Mazzor's cock fit tightly between her lips, and
she slowly began to work her way down its length.

   "See, Lady?" Mazzor asked. "It fits when I want it to. Of
course, if it's still too big for you..."

   "Mmm!" Thae'lynn said, sharply, shaking her head, casting her
dark eyes up to where Mazzor towered over her like a statue. She
continued, sliding her lips down the ever-lengthening shaft of
burning flesh. The daemon's secretions were sweet and intoxicating,
filling her mouth, mixing with her own saliva. She felt
light-headed, and her throat opened up to accommodate Mazzor. Two
great hands clamped onto the back of her head, holding her close,
sending the slick cock still deeper.

   The great shaft filled Thae'lynn's throat. She feared it might
choke her, but nothing happened, and it continued down. What a
death it would be, she reflected, sensations whirling, feeling
drunk and excited -- choked to death by the sweetest, most
succulent cock in the universe.

   At last she reached the end of the thing, face tight against
Mazzor's loins, hands firmly holding her. She could do very little
save tease the segment of his cock that remained in her mouth,
stroking her tongue-bar and its hard little ball against its
underside. He released her then, and let her pull back, cock
sliding out, bar still held along its soft, burning length.

   "It's good," Mazzor grunted. "You perform well, Dark One."

   She took the compliment with good grace, assaulting the organ
with renewed enthusiasm, lightly biting down, feeling her teeth
glide along the slickened flesh. She pressed her tongue harder, as
well, applying pressure from both sides and received a sudden
increase in temperature and secretion for her efforts.

   "No," said Mazzor, pulling back, cock slipping from her lips,
trailing a brief string of spittle, then returning to its original
length. "Not yet, woman. Not yet."

   "I should hope not," Thae'lynn told him, gently stroking the
dark fur of his legs. "I'd like to feel this in a few other places
first."

   "Oh, you will," Mazzor said, pushing her backwards onto the bed.
She fell back without resistance, head still spinning. Memories of
her first herb-smoke party washed over her, of the men and women
she had lain with that night, and of Chamzzir, her first panther...
What a sweet kitty he had been... 

   She allowed Mazzor to spread her legs apart, feeling her
countless labia-rings jingle and click together, slick with her hot
juices. His long, snakelike tongue flicked out, touching her
studded clit, curling around her ring, sliding along her lips,
already wet with anticipation. She moaned, and the pressure
increased, the tongue probing with greater insistence. Mazzor
pulled open her dark cunt-lips with large fingers, then stroked at
the glittering lip-rings, and finally slid his long tongue inside
her, as moisture poured down her thighs.

   "Yessss..." She sighed and grunted deeply. Yes, this is what she
wanted. The perfect amalgam of man and animal. Hands, strong arms,
a beautiful tongue and cock, and the primal instinct to use them.
Of course, he was quite intelligent, but she could forgive that
considering his other good qualities. "Fuck me with your tongue,
you beautiful animal..."

   "You ask so politely, Lady." He obliged, the tongue literally
writhing inside her, then pulling back to lap at her clit. With a
gasp, she felt it loop around her clit-ring and tug gently.

   Prehensile tongue, she thought. Never read about that in the
literature. Trigon would have been so jealous...

   "Harder," she hissed, straining against him. "Pull harder."

   "Ask again," he said, his voice a threatening snarl. "Ask as if
you mean it."

   "Oh, yes!" she gasped. "Yes, pull on my clit harder! Please, my
sweet animal... Please!"

   "That's better." The insistent tug on her clit grew stronger,
and she felt herself swell, ripen, overflow. Her vision exploded
into multicolored fireworks. Shock after shock ripped through her
from the throbbing center, where the burning daemon-tongue stroked
and pulled, and sharp daemon-teeth pricked at her now-erect
clitoris, fingers touched and toyed with the rings which pierced
her wet cunt-lips.

   As orgasm continued to rack her body and she cried out,
uncontrollably, and largely unintelligibly (the most understandable
words were, not surprisingly, "fuck" and "animal"), Mazzor seized
her and effortlessly turned her over onto her stomach, then roughly
pulled her up onto her knees.

   "Where do you want my cock?" he demanded, rubbing its engorged
head against her buttocks and thighs. "Where do you want me to fuck
you?"

   Trick question, she thought, but she played along anyway.

   "My pussy... my cunt... please," she said, purposely pitching
her words with a tone of neediness and begging. "Fuck my cunt."

   "Not yet," he replied, as she had hoped he would. "I'm going to
fuck your ass..."

   "Yes!" she said, unable to restrain her enthusiasm. "Yes,
please..."

   That probably wasn't what he wanted to hear, but he didn't let
it stop him. He ran a finger over her asshole, then slowly slipped
it inside.

   "Want to get fucked there?" he asked. "Want my cock inside you?"

   "Yes! You fucking animal, I want it now!" She was getting
impatient and, though under other circumstances H Hordering a
daemon-lord around was probably a bad idea, she didn't really care.
"Fuck my ass right now!"

   "Louder. Say it louder."

   "Fuck me!" she cried. "FUCK my ass NOW!" She looked back at him,
eyes wide. "I'm begging you. Please."

   "Happy to oblige, once more." With that, he placed the head of
his cock between her buttocks, rubbed it against her asshole for
lubrication, and thrust, gently but insistently, into her.

   "Uhhh." The sensation was indescribable. She felt herself
stretch to accommodate him, and felt him narrow slightly to fit,
though she was still filled to the limit. She reached a hand down
to stimulate herself as he began to thrust in and out. Feverish
heat spread out from his cock, and she felt desperately thirsty.
She stroked and pulled at her clit, and in a few moments fell over
the edge into another colossal orgasm.

   "Uhhhhh, yes... Uhhhh." She was well beyond articulate speech,
even such simple words as "beast" and "fuck." She felt as if the
thick daemon-cock filled her entire being, and the pain it caused
was tiny compared to the mind-numbing pleasure which pulsed and
throbbed inside her.

   "Good," Mazzor whispered. "Very good, little elf."

   She let him fuck her for several more minutes, feeling his cock
stretch out her asshole, fill her completely. He pulled all the way
out, and the pressure eased, then he thrust in once more, and the
terrible but sweet sensations soared and swelled again. She felt
one with the daemon, entirely submissive, totally possessed. 

   "Uhhhh..." She pulled down on her clit-ring. Yes. Again...
again... Hot... Unbearable...

   "I'm coming!" she cried, forming intelligible words with
enormous difficulty.The pressure of the enormous daemon-cock inside
her combined with violent, jaw-clenching contractions from her
cunt. Flashes of black alternated with the dim light before her
eyes, and she struggled to stay conscious against the burning
intensity of her orgasm.  "I'm coming for you... Oh, fuck my ass,
you fucking animal..."

   At last she could take it no longer.

   "Fuck me now!" she barked. "Fuck me like an animal! I want it!"

   "Since you ask so nicely..." The demon seemed quite cooperative
at this point, and withdrew from her ass, stroking himself several
times to clean his cock off (more of the slick exudate left the
green-black organ shiny and wet-looking), then rubbed it against
her moist cunt-lips.

   "Inside me, now!" Thae'lynn was getting downright dictatorial
with this creature, she realized, but he didn't seem to be
particularly bothered. "Put that fucking animal cock inside me
now!"

   "So demanding," Mazzor said. "Such a demanding plaything you
are..."

   It was beautiful, exquisite, breathtaking. Here she was, fucking
the greatest and most virile animal imaginable, ordering him to do
as she chose, while at the same time feeling like his helpless toy
-- such a delicious combination. And he had the intelligence to
listen -- it was something of an improvement. Thae'lynn's only
regret was that she might have to actually talk to him later, but
everyone had their burdens to bear...

   Such thoughts were driven out when the massive cock finally
thrust into her without preliminaries, thinning enough for access,
then plowing straight into her cunt from behind, filling vagina and
cervix and beyond, sending her into another  series of soul-jarring
orgasms.

   "Oh, darling... Oh, you animal..." she husked and gasped. "It's
never... Never been so good... Oh, fuck me... Oh, my daemon... My
beautiful master..."

   Mazzor was pretty much intent on his rhythmic task, and didn't
respond, but continued to pump away, sending her into countless
more orgasms before pulling out, turning her onto her back and
standing over her, cock once more at its full thickness, glistening
and pulsating.

   "Now, little pet," he said, "my turn. Make me come now."

   "I obey gladly," she replied, breathless. "Very gladly."

   She seized the organ, still sizzlingly hot and rock-hard. She
had the interesting notion that she was jacking off a gargoyle
statue, or something similarly artistic, and memories of Trigon's
Transformational Modalities once more nagged her. This was not the
Hundredth Modality, not by a long way... Had she possibly
discovered the Hundred-and-First? Were the harmonic resonances
produced by dark elf and daemon souls a unique variation? Could it
be that Trigon was wrong, after all...?

   Oh, fuck it all... I want him to come...

   "I want you to come," she said, pulling on Mazzor's organ as if
it were some kind of particularly recalcitrant root-crop. "I want
you to come."

   "How much?" Mazzor demanded. "How much does my little elf want
me to come?"

   "A great deal," she gasped, tugging, then running her tongue
along the black member's underside. "I want you to come a very
great deal."

   He smiled. "Good. I come a very great deal."

   She got the joke. "Yesssss..." Her heart began to race again. "I
want you to come all over me." She released him, hooked her fingers
into her nipple rings and pulled as hard as she dared, feeling
sensations jar through her, pleasure and pain mixing until they
were indistinguishable. "Make yourself come all over me."

   "I can control that, too," Mazzor said. Though he obviously
tried for a matter-of-fact tone, he was obviously approaching his
own explosion. "I can give you as much as you want..."

   "I want it all!" she said, loudly and sincerely. "I want to swim
in it. I want to drown in it... Give it all to me! Now!" She
encircled his cockhead with her lips and sucked on its very tip as
Mazzor stroked himself with black-taloned fingers.

   "Very well, then," he said. "Take it now..."

   With that, the pent-up cock gushed forth a truly torrential
flood of hot semen. Mazzor hadn't exaggerated; the explosion
quickly overflowed her mouth and shot across her face. He pulled
out, continuing to stroke himself, hot and sticky fluid splashing
forth over her shoulders and breasts, rolling off her sides in wet
masses, quickly soaking the bedclothes even as the endless rain of
come continued.

   "Ohhhhhh." Far from being repulsed, Thae'lynn felt heightened
excitement at the burning white cascade, swallowing the load in her
mouth, while at the same time rubbing it across her breasts, belly
and thighs.

   Still, he continued, shooting more across thighs her thighs and
abdomen. She rubbed it into her skin like a rich lotion, feeling
its warmth. It didn't grow cold like normal semen, but remained hot
and almost steaming, white against her black flesh. It tingled on
her skin, searing into her, sending a wave of lethargy washing over
her. Her movements grew slower and more languorous until at last
she lay, moving only feebly, in a massive pool of sticky
daemon-come, gasping gently.

   "Oh, daemon," she whispered, semen bubbling from her lips. "Oh,
yes. I love... I love how it... feels..." Then her eyelids
flickered shut and she drifted into satisfied partial slumber.

   Mazzor stood and looked down at her where she lay, black skin
gleaming, patches of white still adhering to her. Nine parts in ten
of her were asleep, and she gazed at him with half-shut violet
eyes.

   "You perform well, Lady," he said, politely. "Consider our
alliance sealed."

   "Yesssssss..." Thae'lynn said, with great effort, then finally
drifted into complete unconsciousness.

   *  *  *  *

   Wulf

   I sat at the base of the tree for almost an hour, wondering what
to do. I didn't know whether Nyss was alive or dead, or whether she
would remember where she dropped me even if she survived assault by
the aerial daemons. Odds were that I was stranded here, without the
slightest notion as to which way the Silver Tower was. Deep in the
woods, there was no way of taking a sun sight, and I wasn't certain
what direction Nyss had been flying in anyway.

   My survival skills are mostly geared toward urban areas, so in
the forest I was largely screwed. I had neither weapons nor
shelter. I decided that my best bet was to strike out in a likely
direction, and hope to find a H Hroad or a river which I could
follow to civilization. Of course, if my good friend Imral was a
typical elf, I was as likely to get an arrow in the gut as shelter
and a decent meal for my troubles.

   Finally deciding that Nyss was unlikely to return, I stood and
began walking.

   I kept walking for an hour, then another, then another. The
woods seemed endless, and completely unchanging -- long stretches
of reddish, needle-covered soil crowded with grim and ancient grey
tree trunks, beneath the tangled, black branches above, which let
in very little sunlight, leaving me in perpetual gloom.
Occasionally, the landscape would rise or fall, and once I saw a
small green glade, dappled by afternoon sunlight, but though it was
restful and pleasant, there was no one there.

   Afternoon passed, and the gloom deepened. Night was coming, and
hunger gnawed at me. I had no rations, no bow, no knife, no snare
wire, and I hadn't seen anything in the undergrowth or the glade
that looked edible. I had hoped to come upon some wild berries or
something like them, but so far the dice had come up losers.

   I had just about despaired of getting anything to eat, and had
begun to wonder how cold it got in this part of the isles when I
saw a clearing up ahead, through the trees.

   Hastening forward, I saw yet another verdant glade, only this
one had a number of interesting features. A green knoll rose near
the center of the clearing, surmounted by a circle of standing
stones. A small stream also ran through the glade, and beside it I
saw something which made my heart leap -- blackberry bushes, ripe
with fruits.

   Gods, maybe things did go my way from time to time. I dashed
into the clearing, feet whisking through tangled grass, splashed
through the stream, and immediately began to pick blackberries and
gorge myself.

   They were unworldly -- fat and ripe, heavy with juice, just the
right blend of sweet and tart. It wasn't exactly the most exotic or
luxurious meal I'd ever had, but it was certainly one of the most
satisfying. By the time I finished, I was filthy, of course, hands
and face smeared with berry juice, but some vestiges of my
civilized upbringing remained, for after I finished, stuffed to
capacity with juicy blackberries, I crawled over to the stream,
washed myself off in the cold water, and drank my fill.

   Night approached, and it was sure to get cold, but I decided to
gather up branches and pine boughs for warmth and sleep in the
clearing. The suffuse light of early evening made the glade shadowy
and dusky, and as I rose to leave, a sudden sense of ominous dread
swept over me. My eyes darted from bush to tree to shrub, then up
to the knoll, where the standing stones began to sink into
darkness.

   Dread became fear, and fear panic. I didn't know why at that
moment, but my mind and body abruptly wished to H Hflee the
clearing, run like hell and never look back, and I wasn't about to
argue.

   I splashed into the stream, intent on the trees, whose dark
embrace now seemed welcome, all-concealing and safe. Behind me I
felt, rather than saw, the standing stones, and imagined them
coming to life, turning into grey, daemonic creatures, reaching out
rocky fingers to grab me and crush the life out of me. I had
intruded upon them, I realized. I had eaten and drunk from a sacred
place, and now the sacred place was angry.

   I ran desperately, but I knew it was too late. Low mounds of
earth sprang up all around the perimeter of the clearing, and with
horror I watched them split open and aged, brittle, skeletal hands
reach out. From the mounds clambered tall, spindly skeletons, their
features fine and inhuman -- the elven dead, rising up to take
vengeance on me for my violation. They moved stiffly, and dark blue
fire burned in their dead sockets. Some wore remnants of old armor,
or carried rusted weapons.

   Even in the best of times, I'm not a terribly brave man, and
this was anything but the best of times. I screamed, then turned
away from the monstrous things which blocked my escape, back toward
the standing stones, only to see an even greater horror rising up
there. From the center of the ring of menhirs, another skeleton
rose. But this was no mere elven skeleton, as frightening as those
were. This was a vast, monstrous skeleton, animated and glowing,
driven by ancient, angry magic. Its head was broad, beaked and
crested, atop a long neck and heavy body, with the pinions of
long-vanished wings rising up above it, and a lashing, bony tail
behind. It had once been a dragon of great size and power, and now
it was an engine of retribution, ready to take me and destroy me
utterly, both body and soul.

   I knew it was up, then. Shambling elf-skeletons behind me, a
withered, maddened dragon skeleton before. Why I didn't curl up and
squeal feebly as they finished me I can't say. Fear (or in this
case, stark staring terror) makes a man do strange things, and what
I did certainly qualified. Rather than turning back into the
welcoming arms of the dozen or so skeletal elves behind me, I
pounded forward, splashing through the stream, past the
spine-covered blackberry bushes, and straight up the hill into the
jaws of the undead dragon.

   I dodged around a standing stone, letting the great head strike
down at me, then dashed desperately between its two front legs,
ducking low beneath its axe-sharp breastbone, and bounded across
the altar stone. The lashing bony tail buffeted me, sending me
sprawling and tumbling down the other side of the hill, but now I
was clear. I dashed for the safety of the opposite end of the
clearing, mercifully free of skeletal guardians.

   My heart sank, however, as I saw another dozen mounds rising up
in the near total-night, their fleshless occupants climbing out to
shamble toward me. 

   I cried out in despair, stopping and dithering, uncertain what
to do. I was unarmed, outmatched by deathless enemies who obviously
wanted me dead -- or possibly recruited into their withered ranks.
I most assuredly did not want to die... not yet, anyway.

   An undead elf took a swipe at me with a rusty sword. I ducked
easily, but there were too many of them. Another came at me, moving
more steadily this time. It was surrounded by a faint blue nimbus,
and its armor was unrusted. It held a slender black sword which
glowed and shouldered with lambent violet runes.

   Great, now I had to fight some kind of undead warrior-hero. I
might just as well give up right this minute...

   Blue fire flashed in the clearing, striking the undead champion,
sending the sword spinning as he burst into charred fragments.
Again, I wasn't going to question a miracle, but picked up the
fallen blade and struck out with it myself. Where it struck, my
foes were blasted apart, collapsing into inert bones and twisted
metal.

   The way to the trees was open now, and there stood a slender
figure wreathed in flickering blue flames.

   "Come on, idiot!" shouted a voice. "We can't hold the dragon
off! Get out of there!"

   Keeping the sword in a deathgrip, I made for the trees, cutting
down a couple more skeletons in the process.

   I caught sight of my benefactor, and almost stopped short. She
was beautiful, like most elves, so that came as no surprise. But
there was more to her. It was an indescribable quality -- a
strength measured in the depths of her soft brown eyes and dark,
red-gold hair, a firmness in the curve of her lips -- I don't know.
The fact is that I was smitten almost instantly.

   "Quit gawking, and get a move on!" she ordered, gesturing with
a gnarled wooden staff. She was dressed in buckskin tunic and
trousers tight enough to be her own skin, and wore soft leather
boots. Her belt was hung with various pouches, and her clothing was
intricately decorated with fanciful beadwork. I obeyed, quit
gawking, and fled into the woods.

   She followed, and in a few moments, called a halt.

   "It's all right," she said, breathing hard. "That thing can't go
far from its circle. It won't pursue."

   I looked at her. "You're certain?"

   "Damn right I'm certain, round-ears!" she shot back. "Who lives
around here, you or me?"

   I shrugged. "Can't argue with that. I'm Wulf. Human traveler
caught in the little fracas between the dark elves and their
cousins."

   "Ah. The war is bringing out all sorts of monsters, isn't it?"

   How nice. Another tolerant elf.

   "Personally," I replied, "I've seen enough of both sides that I
don't much care who wins the war. I suppose I H Hshould thank you
for helping me, however."

   She made a noncommittal noise. "Gods only know why I did it,
human. Anyone stupid enough to violate one of the dark barrows
deserves everything he gets."

   "Have you considered that I'm not here voluntarily, and that I
don't learn all the rules of existence on the Elven Isles by
osmosis? I'm not any happier to be here than you are to have me,
elf."

   "My name is Sarra, druid of the ninth circle," she replied,
coldly. "I'm protector of these woods, and I've had my hands full
dealing with a rash of daemons and other monstrosities over the
last couple of days. I've little enough time for saving uninvited
humans."

   "I'm sorry," I replied, and I meant it. "It's probably been hard
on you."

   She nodded. "That it has. The orcs and the dark elves are still
days distant, but they seem to have sent a wave of abominations to
prepare the way for their advance." She fixed me with a stare that
was overtly hostile, though I detected a trace of genuine concern.
"I saved you, and I'll help you get where you're going. But you've
got to help me in the meantime."

   I agreed. "You're my only friend right now," I said, "though you
don't seem too keen on the idea. I'll help you."

   "All right, human. It's getting darker, and I have no idea
what's abroad tonight. You'd better come with me."

   "I will. But call me Wulf, please."

   She did not respond, but instead led me through a twisting route
through the forest, to a large-boled tree. She tapped her staff
against the tree's base, and a series of projections sprang out
from the rough bark, forming a ladder up into the higher branches.

   "Follow," she said, and, stowing her staff crosswise in her
backpack, began to climb.

   I climbed after the druidess as best I could, pausing
frequently, clinging close to the bark, in the dim light of Sarra's
staff.

   At length, high above the forest floor, the branches of several
different trees grew together, thickened and strengthened (through
druidic magic, I suspected), and supported a wooden,
organic-looking cabin. Its roof was of pine needles, soft and
curved, and the graceful walls sported several round windows, with
leaded glass panes in the shape of spiderwebs. Sarra opened a round
door and ushered me inside.

   "Welcome," she said, following me, "to my home. Come quickly,
and leave slowly."

   "I accept your welcome," I replied, formally. "I stay happily,
and leave sadly."

   She didn't expect that. She stared at me in genuine
astonishment.

   "I didn't realize that you knew our ways."

   I smiled. "I'm full of surprises, Sarra. I'm genuinely H Hhappy
to be here."

   She turned away without a word and began to light tapers.

   Well, I thought, looking around, taking in the light polished
wood and graceful curves of the house around me, here I am, safe.

   At least for the moment.

   *  *  *  *

    Given the day's exertions, I slept surprisingly fitfully that
night, troubled by dreams of a tall, pale-haired elf warrior in a
suit of elaborate black scaled armor and a high, pointed helm. He
strode through flames and pointed a long, thin finger at me.

   "You carry the Sword of Ages," he said. "You will become the
avenger."

   I awoke with a start, looking about in confusion. Around me was
the darkened sitting room of Sarra's house, its curved,
natural-looking furniture casting strange shadows in the dappled
moonlight which shone through the spiderweb-windows.

   Still partly asleep, I arose from the couch where Sarra had left
me, and wandered about, uncertain and clumsy in the darkness. I
found my way through a tall, oval portal, and walked down a round,
tunnel-like hallway, polished wood beneath my bare feet, occasional
doors appearing on either side. At length, I reached a door at the
end of the hall, and without thinking reached out my hand, and
touched its burnished brass latch.

   To my surprise, the door opened, swinging silently inward, and
I walked through it, my feet moving almost of their own accord.

   Inside was another chamber, with curved walls and a single
window, through which the moon shone unobscured, casting silvery
light. In the center of the room stood an empty suit of armor,
surmounted by a graceful conical helm. A circle of eish stones
surrounded the armor on the floor, gleaming slightly with the light
they'd absorbed during the day.

   On the wall opposite me I saw a tall, life-sized portrait of a
slender, pale-haired elf, dressed in a long purple tunic. With a
start, I realized that it was the elf from my dream, and that he
had been wearing the armor.

   "What are you DOING?" a voice exploded from behind me, making me
jump and whirl in alarm.

   Sarra stood there, dressed in a simple white shift, her hair
bound up on her head. Her gentle features were contorted with
anger.

   "I'm sorry..." I babbled. "I couldn't sleep, and..."

   "Get the hell out!" she roared. "Get the hell out of my house,
you human bastard!"

   I was left with the general impression that I'd blown it.

   I exited the room, still trying to explain myself. She followed
me into the sitting room, a black cloud of pure anger.

   "I didn't mean any harm," I said. "I was half-asleep. I had a
strange dream and was just wandering --"

   "Wandering? Damned convenient wandering, human. You heard me --
get out of here. Find your own way to the Silver Tower, and be
damned!"

   "Please," I said, "if I've upset you, I'm sorry." As usual, I
was grossly understating the obvious. Far from being merely upset,
Sarra looked as infuriated as a Kyborist Patriarch who had
discovered a Red Temple nautch going on in his confessional. 

   "Get out," she hissed.

   "No!" I shot back. "The elf in the portrait! I saw him in my
dream, dammit! That's why I went there!"

   Sarra's tantrum suddenly collapsed like a wall under Litharnan
siege-bombards. Her eyes suddenly widened, and she looked up at me,
tears gleaming in the faint moonlight.

   "What?" she said, voice faint and feeble. "What did you say?"

   "I saw the guy in the portrait. I dreamed about him. He was
wearing the armor, and he told me that I would be the avenger."

   "You're lying!" she said, sharply, a trace of the rage
returning.

   "How the hell would I come up with a lie like that?" I said.
"How was I to know it would get your attention? If I were lying,
I'd have come up with a better lie than that." It was true -- I'm
one hell of a liar when I've a mind to be.

   I think that got to her. She walked unsteadily to a chair and
fell into it, head sinking down onto her knees. A moment later, her
shoulders heaved, and I heard sobs.

   "Sarra?" I said, uncertain what to do. "What's wrong? What
happened?"

   "You bastard," she husked, voice brimming with sorrow and anger.
"You had no right... No right at all..."

   The elf in the armor... That had to be it...

   "Who was he, Sarra?" I asked. "Who was the one wearing the
armor?"

   A deep sigh. She looked up, face now streaked with bitter tears.

   "His name is -- was -- Raven. He was my husband."

   It hit hard. Now it made sense.

   "I dreamed of him. He spoke to me. I saw him and you didn't."

   She nodded. "Why didn't he speak to me? Why? Goddess, I miss him
so..."

   I felt suddenly uncomfortable, as if witnessing a moment which
was hers and hers alone.

   "Do you want me to go?" I asked. "I'll leave now if you want."

   "No. Stay. I believe you." She leaned back trying to H Hcompose
herself, but the grief came over her in waves. "He died only ten
years ago. It's so hard for me to think of him..."

   I frowned. "How old are you, Sarra?"

   "Ninety-five," she replied. "Ninety-five cycles -- thirty with
him, and the last ten without."

   Gods. "You've lived three of my lifetimes," I said, in
astonishment. "Ten years is an eternity for humans, but for you
it's like --"

   "Like yesterday," she replied. "It was like yesterday. It will
always be like yesterday."

   "How did he die?"

   "Raiders. Humans from the Cold Islands. They tried to sack the
Runehall. Claimed that one of their ancestral weapons was there.
Raven was summoned by the Silver Lady, and left to fight them. He
was a very well-known warrior. He rode Galewing, a black pegasus,
and joined the battle in time to help turn the raiders back. Their
shaman struck him down with a waterspout. He fell into the sea.
They recovered his body the next day, and sent his armor to me.
Galewing's corpse was never found."

   "I'm sorry," I repeated. "I guess I can understand why humans
aren't your favorite people."

   "Have you ever lost someone you loved, human?" she asked. "Yes,
I imagine you have. Everyone has. But we live so much longer than
you do... Your people think that it's a blessing, don't they?"

   I didn't reply.

   "Well, they're wrong. Long life is a curse. Every day we spend
in this world of tears and pain is an eternity. Every moment of
existence away from the Goddess is torment. Perhaps we live longer,
human, but our sorrows are far, far deeper. I cannot forget Raven,
no matter how hard I try. And now, he has come to you, called out
to you -- a human. Not to the woman he loved -- to a mortal one."

   "But that proves that he still exists somewhere," I said. "And
it proves that you'll be together again someday."

   "Not too soon for me, human," she said, sadly. "Not too soon for
me. Now go back to sleep, and if Raven calls you again, ignore him.
I will see you in the morning."

   I allowed her to retire, but lay awake for a long time,
listening to soft sobs emanating from Sarra's chamber.

    Thrazz

    The army was on the march. Endless dark red banners rose above
the black tide as it moved inexorably along the elf-road. Hordes of
scouts preceded the army, searching for enemy forces, foraging,
killing and pillaging just for the fun of it.

   Thrazz was well pleased. His mind was so clear now -- H Hperhaps
it was the sheer joy of conquest, the clarity of unrestrained
violence. This is what an orc lives for, he thought. This is why I
was born. Perhaps I'll write a song about it.

   A squad of elite armored orcish dragons walked by, shouting and
chanting. They waved fists and clutched weapons at him as he gazed
down from a low hillside. He was mounted on his favorite wolf, who
regarded his master's changed personality with a mixture of fear
and bemusement.

   "On my children!" Thrazz bellowed, hefting Brainsquasher, his
favorite heavy mace, over his head. "Raise the red banners and
carry them to the elvish heartland! Show no mercy! Burn and slay,
my children, and the gods shall laugh! The red shall devour the
green, and all shall serve the great war-god, Grallik the Unjust!
Go, my children, and slay! Slay! Slay!"

   They cheered at that. Thrazz smiled to himself, impressed at his
own creativity. Damn, this was fun.

   Thae'lynn

    Mazzor stood beside Thae'lynn, watching as the orcish host
passed in review before King Thrazz. Behind them stood the
black-armored ranks of dark elves -- infantry, berserks,
lizard-riders, wizards -- well behind the van, as usual.

   "The old pervert's in good form today," Thae'lynn said bitterly.
She stood on her own, now, her minotaur bearers at attention
nearby. She held Yalvar on a chain, and the great cat lazed at her
feet, idly licking one enormous paw.

   "Given your tastes, I'd have thought you'd adore King Thrazz,
Dark Lady," Mazzor said. "No offense meant, but he is more animal
than rational being."

   "Yes," Thae'lynn agreed, "and he combines the worst features of
both. I like my animals virile and clean, and my males quiet and
good-mannered -- present company excepted, of course, Lord Mazzor.
Thrazz is none of those things."

   "Besides, he stands in your path to power, does he not?

   "Indeed, he does, daemon lord. And with your help I will remove
him. Are you ready to put our plan into effect?

   Mazzor nodded. "Tonight, Lady."

   "I'm very glad that you don't share my repulsion for the foul
little creature, Mazzor," she said.

   The daemon grunted noncommittally. "I will use all means at my
disposal for temporal power. If that means impersonating you and
having sex with a rutting orc lord, it is of little concern to me."

   "Mm. That," Thae'lynn said, scanning the endless black ranks of
orcs, goblins and assorted creatures, "is one of the good things
about partnerships. One partner will do what the other finds
distasteful."

   "An enlightened observation, Dark Lady," Mazzor replied.

   Wulf

    The previous night's incident was largely ignored as we sat
down to a hearty breakfast of nuts and berries (damned druid
cuisine -- I'd have given anything for a nice flank steak).

   "I got up early this morning," she said (in reality, I suspect
that she hadn't slept at all the night before), "and did a little
research. That sword you got from the skeleton seems to be quite a
weapon. According to the runes, it's called 'Vasha Kultha' -- the
Sword of Ages. Leaskang's History of the Fifth Cycle Dragon Kings
discusses the weapon in considerable detail."

   "So what's the story?"

   "It was forged by the hero Halvarath as an instrument of
vengeance against his brother Doleath, who had killed their parents
and tried to kill him."

   "Very un-elven behavior," I pointed out. "I thought you guys
were always noble and good and honorable."

   "That's the face we like to show to the outside world. The fact
is that living forever makes us even more treacherous and scheming
than anything you humans could imagine. Some elves have hatched
plots that took centuries, or even millennia, to come to fruition."

   "That's no problem for me," I said. "By the time any elf's
schemes against me came to pass, I'd have been in the ground for
several lifetimes."

   "Good point. In any event, Halvarath made Vasha Kultha to
utterly destroy his brother, body and soul. It worked too well. He
slew Doleath, but kept the sword, using it to avenge every crime he
knew of. Eventually, he started to avenge crimes that he only
thought existed. In the end, he felt that mortal existence was so
sinful and imperfect that all should die. He led an army of
fanatics against the Silver Tower, and almost destroyed it. He was
defeated, and his army scattered, but his body was never
recovered."

   "Do you think that was him in the glade?" I asked, somewhat
horrified.

   "I think so. He was never without his dragon, Scarclaw. I'd say
that that undead dragon fits with the legend."

   "Will they all die now, finally?" I asked. "We've got the
sword."

   "Let's hope so. It's doubly imperative now that we get to the
Silver Tower. The Lady must be given that sword so that she can
destroy it, or put it where it can never be used again."

   I put my head in my hands. "First the damned Chalice, now the
Sword," I said. "Why do you make these damned things if they do so
much harm?"

   "I don't know, Wulf. I suppose it's our nature to tamper with
the limits of temporal existence. Longevity can H Halso be boring,
after all."

   "I'd never thought of it that way."

   She rose, and gazed out a nearby window. The sun shone down
through the branches overhead, silhouetting her in soft,
yellow-green light. The outline of her body showed through her
shift, and I had to swallow hard and suppress my usual lustful
thoughts. She was a widow, after all, and still in mourning. Of
course, elven mourning apparently lasts a couple of centuries, so
she was likely to be this way for quite some time.

   "We'll need flying mounts," she said at last. "It will take days
or weeks to get to the Tower on foot. Flameharrow is the nearest
city, and I suppose we could get transportation from there, but
even that's at least four days' hard travel. Besides, we might get
there and find it under siege."

   I nodded. "What's your plan?"

   "I'll make a summoning circle," she said. "At my grove. It will
call out to any large flying creatures nearby. It will take at
least a day to be effective, however, but no more than three. We'll
have mounts and be airborne in less than the time it would take to
get to Flameharrow."

   "Makes sense. But air travel might be difficult." I told her
about the winged things which had attacked Nyss.

   "It's a risk we'll have to take. And besides, they'll find that
two mounted, armed warriors are a much harder target than a
sky-woman burdened with a human passenger."

   I'd never really considered myself a "warrior" ("cheese eating
coward" is a far more apt description), but I let it pass.

   "How far is your circle?" I asked.

   "If we leave now, we can get there by afternoon," she replied.
"We'll have to camp there, but I can weave some protective spells
to keep the beasties away."

   "All right," I agreed. "Got some traveling clothes?"

   Thrazz

    Orcdom spread its green and slobbering tentacles across the
verdant elven realm. Lord Thrazz looked on with pride,
anticipation, and several emotions which he had never experienced
before. He walked around camp, dozens of unfamiliar sensations
fighting each other. He had never, he decided, been more an orc,
more a warlord, more a monarch. But there was something else...
Other things which slumbered deep inside him, whose awakening he
both feared and welcomed.

   "BEEEEEEEERRRR!" he bellowed for effect, and instantly, his
goblins came tottering forward, pouring beer from the ever-present
cask into the silver chalice he had taken from the elves. He
grabbed it sloppily and took a deep draught.

   Instantly, the Lord of the Iron Gate felt more at ease, more
self-assured, more confident, more...

   Well, more orcish, anyway.

   Night spread its hand over the elven forests, and over the
advancing tide of Thrazz's army. This was the time for the
weak-willed humans to stop, make camp, relax, eat, sing songs, and
(where appropriate) engage in random pillage and rapine. For the
orcs and goblins, however, this was their time, and their armies
advanced with renewed enthusiasm. They did not follow a rigid sleep
schedule, but nodded off whenever they were tired, regardless of
the hour. Now, fired by the prospect of bloodshed, and emboldened
by their easy victory at the Citadel, they moved swiftly, bearing
down upon the elvish settlements and fortresses which were certain
to lie ahead. For their part, the dark elves remained well behind,
acting as a rear guard and, as Thrazz contemptuously noted, keeping
themselves well out of any real danger.

   As for Thrazz, he felt a need for calm reflection and
contemplation of his battle plan. Finishing his beer with a final
huge gulp, and returning the chalice to its now-customary place,
hanging from his belt, he threw back his cloak, and strode into his
command tent.

   "I thought you'd never get here," said a soft voice from the
shadows.

   Thrazz jumped, hand darting for his falchion, until he realized
that the voice was familiar. Staring in astonishment, he saw none
other than Lady Thae'lynn of the dark elves, stepping into the
light.

   Thrazz gawked like a confused bird. She was still masked, but
wore a long, lacy black robe, unbelted and open in the front,
revealing her long, lean body, vanishing into tantalizing darkness
between her loins.

   "I've considered your offer, Lord Thrazz," she said, voice now
deep and honeyed, "and I wish to apologize for my former reticence.
I believe our alliance can be further strengthened by a closer
union between the two of us."

   There was a time in his life when the sight of a nearly naked
elven woman, dark or light, would have been the signal for Thrazz
to drop trou, shout "Sausage Time!" and start plunging. Now,
however, the deeper things stirred inside him, and he chose to
talk.

   "Why are you doing this, Dark Lady?" he asked. "The last time
you met, you said that I repulsed you."

   Thae'lynn blinked, apparently astonished that such subtlety
could originate in an orcish mind.

   "As I said, Great Lord, I consider my former views to be overly
hasty, and have since recanted. I apologize if I gave insult."

   "Hm." A thought occurred to Thrazz. "Perhaps, Lady," he said,
"your well-known predilection for animals has caused you to think
more favorably of me." He paused, fixing Thae'lynn with an intense
stare. "My people have been called animals for milennia, Lady. Some
of us even believe it, and our actions are accordingly savage. But,
H HLady, if we orcs are animals, we are animals because the world
made us that way, not because we willingly chose such a role."

   Thae'lynn drew closer. The hidden and shadowy parts of her body
became clearer -- her small, breasts, pierced with gleaming metal,
her flat stomach, black as ebony, the tangled thatch between her
thighs. To his own astonishment, Lord Thrazz remained unmoved.

   "Great Lord," she said, urgently, "I meant no harm. I do not
consider you an animal."

   "Perhaps, perhaps not, Dark Lady. The fact remains that I do not
at this time welcome your attentions."

   "But, Great Lord," Thae'lynn, voice tight and intense, "I want
you." She fell to her knees, pulling her robe open, fully exposing
breasts, shoulders, belly. "I must have you, Great Lord Thrazz."

   Thrazz looked down coolly. "If you want me so badly, Dark Lady,
perhaps you should take the time to get to know me. If you now
believe that the mere sight of your naked body will cause me to
throw myself upon you and ravish you like an animal, you are sadly
mistaken. I am not that kind of orc."

   Astonishment, anger, puzzlement, and other expressions appeared
and vanished in the space of an instant in Thae'lynn's deep violet
eyes. Without another word, she rose, pulled her robe shut, and
strode angrily from the tent.

   Thrazz stood blinking for several minutes after that, marveling
at his own restraint. Once, even a few days ago, he would not have
hesitated, and by now the dark elf bitch would be begging for mercy
as his rock-hard organ thrust mercilessly inside her (that, he
thought, was how orcish males tended to think of sex -- somewhat
limited and scarcely civilized). But now...

   Now...

   What?

   "BEEEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRR!" Thrazz bellowed.

   Wulf

    Sarra led me through on a rather twisting path through the
forest. I was dressed in green elven garments -- soft and light,
but incredibly sturdy, and carried bow and broadsword. The Avenger
sword, which I had taken from the skeleton-warrior, remained
behind, in the shrine with Raven's armor.

   We had had differences over exactly what to do with the weapon.
Given its dangerous nature, we were in agreement that I shouldn't
continue to actually use it. I, however, favored keeping the weapon
with us and taking it directly to the Tower, while Sarra felt that
its very presence was a hazard, and that its evil qualities might
disturb her spellcasting when we reached the grove. In the end, she
prevailed, though I expressed concerns over H Hleaving such a
deadly item unguarded.

   "The orcs won't find this place," she said. "It has so many
concealment spells on it that no one can ever find it that I don't
want to."

   I finally agreed, albeit with great reluctance, and we set off
for the grove.

   The forest was as thick and difficult as I remembered, but Sarra
knew many secret ways, and we made good time.

   We talked softly as we went, and she told me more of her life,
and her life together with Raven.

   "He was a widower, himself, you see," he said. "His own wife had
died in battle, and he had mourned over her for a century. We're
like that, you see -- we never do anything by halves."

   "So you figure that since you've got several milennia to live,
you have the luxury of wallowing in emotion."

   "Crudely put, but yes. How long did it take you to forget the
last woman you loved?"

   "Which one?" I asked. There were several to choose from, even in
the past year or so -- Ushandra, the veldt warrioress, Alrynna the
not-so-submissive slave-woman, even her mistress Xylara, and
Xylara's overly enthusiastic sister Nineh... Dammit, the fact was
that I loved them all, to some extent, even if the feelings weren't
always mutual -- the Xeshite women were crazy for me when I was a
lion-man, but that cooled a bit when I became human and my cock got
shorter (I still think Xylara harbored some genuine affection, but
that's as may be).

   "I don't think I ever forget them," I said at last. "I just
learned to live without them. Everyone who goes away, whether they
die or just part company with you, everyone leaves a hole behind.
I've managed to work around the holes. It gets kind of difficult
after a while, though, if there are too many holes to work around."

   "Insightful," she said. "Perhaps we're not so different, after
all. We, too, have holes in our hearts when a loved one leaves, but
we have longer to learn how to work around them. Maybe your kind
knows best. With less time to live, you have less time to mourn,
and you don't let it disfigure you and destroy your life."

   "Oh, it does that, too," I said, "but as you said, we humans
have considerably less than a century apiece. We can't afford to
mourn too long. Or to celebrate, either."

   "Interesting."

   I began to reply, but she stopped me with a raised hand, and
instantly dropped to a crouch, pulling her bow out of its sheath
and stringing it in a single motion. I clumsily followed suit,
fumbling with bow and bowstring. At last, I got the damned thing
strung and nocked an arrow.

   "Something up ahead," she whispered in a tone only scarcely
louder than the rushing of branches above us.

   I frowned and squinted in the direction she pointed. There was
something there, all right, a large bulk of darker shadows beneath
the trees. It stirred, and I found H Hmyself wondering why I hadn't
seen it before.

   "What -- " I began.

   I never finished. With an unearthly shriek, the thing exploded
upon us, scattering trees before it like toothpicks.

   It was horrific -- a monstrous amalgam of a half-dozen different
animals. It had a head like a naked, hairless bear, flesh moist
pink and glistening. Its body was that of a lizard, but moldering
and leprous-looking; its legs like those of a raptor-bird. Three
long, barb-tipped tails lashed and wove from its haunches.

   I stood, paralyzed for a moment. Sarra didn't hesitate, but let
fly with an arrow, striking the thing in the neck, causing it to
rear up, screaming.

   It broke my paralysis, and I, too, loosed a missile, which
landed in the monster's neck. Sarra had time to nock and draw once
more before it was on us, then drew her sword.

   "Take it in the flank, Wulf!" she shouted, swinging at it as the
great, unclean bear-head struck down at her. She dodged, and the
beast got a mouthful of needle-strewn loam.

   I complied, racing at the monster, sword whirling. I connected,
blade slashing across its ribs. Black blood erupted, but before I
could exult at my success, one of the barbed tails struck, stabbing
at my neck. It grazed me, but I felt hot venom splash, searing my
skin and scorching my clothes.

   At that moment, it turned its attention back to me, slimy,
foul-smelling mouth yawning and roaring, its jagged yellow teeth
snapping on the air. I dropped and rolled, but a giant bird-talon
raked me. I cried out then, feeling blood on my back.

   Then I looked up and saw that Sarra had leaped astride the
monster. She held her sword in two hands and drove it down hard,
directly into where the beast's spinal column should have been.

   It went mad then, rolling and screaming. Sarra went flying,
avoiding another slash from the envenomed tail, and I scrambled
away from its frenzied death throes. It lashed out, felling another
tree with a deafening crash, then flopped on one side and died,
blood streaming from its body. The black liquid steamed and
bubbled, and where it touched the ground, rock melted and trees
died, collapsing as if instantly consumed by a million boring
beetles.

   When the creature's twitchings finally subsided, we emerged to
take stock of it and ourselves.

   "Another one of those hell-beasts," she said, breathing heavily.
I saw that she had taken some hits herself, and that a messy wound
on her side bled heavily. "They're every where -- the orcs must
have brought them."

   I shook my head. "The orcs didn't bring anything like this," I
said. "They'd never have been able to control it. This was summoned
from somewhere." I had a sudden thought. "Just like those things
that attacked Nyss. Dammit!" H H   "What's wrong?" she asked. I saw
her looking at my wounds with concern, but we'd deal with them
later.

   "They've opened a gate," I said. "A dimensional portal to some
kind of fucking daemon-plane, and these things are coming through.
I suspect it was the work of the daemon who killed Lord Thavaen."

   Sarra looked horror-stricken. "How do you know about such
things?"

   "I learned a little magic a long time ago -- thaumaturgy,
sorcery, a little alchemy. It's probably different from your kind
of magic. Not much, but enough to recognize an extra-planar monster
when I see it."

   "They'll overrun the isles," she whispered.

   I nodded. "Eventually, nothing will be able to stand against
them. The gate has to be closed, or your bickering elven realms are
doomed."

   We each managed to summon up enough energy to cast some healing
enchantments, and Sarra said what blessings she could over the
monster's corpse. As it was, the thing's body had poisoned the
immediate area, and she told me it would remain blighted for years
or decades to come.

   "Even in death, they're causing untold destruction," she said,
sadly. "There are dead places all across where the orcs advance."

   With grim determination, we continued on toward Sarra's grove.
I hoped that it, too, hadn't been defiled.

   We got there around sunset, and were both relieved to see that
it was untouched.

   I had to admit that it was a place of unbelievable beauty,
similar to the glade where I'd been attacked, but without the
atmosphere of evil and death. In the fading rays of the sun, I saw
a broad, grassy clearing, with a small stream running through it.
In the center, where the menhirs had stood in the evil glade, was
a circle of silver-barked deciduous trees, rich and green with
leaves.

   "My grove," Sarra said. "Come freely, and partake of its
bounty."

   "I come gladly," I replied. "I will share of myself."

   I impressed her again, but she said nothing as she led me into
the clearing.

   We made camp near the actual grove, and Sarra explained what she
would do as we ate in the gathering dusk.

   "I must make my invocation after moons-rise," she said. "I will
call out to any flying creatures nearby. It will take at least
another day to summon something large enough to carry us, but once
the invocation is begun, the summoning continues until I stop it."

   I nodded. "Can I watch? This sounds interesting."

   "More interesting than you imagine," she replied. "You'll see."

------------------------

 The Red and the Green
                              Part 4

   [In previous episodes, Wulf the Freelance has been stranded in
the elven isles, and caught up in a war between the elves and the
orcs, who are aided by the dark elves, under the command of the
lusty and strangely attractive, but also perverse and violent, Lady
Thae'lynn. Wulf has fallen in with the elf druidess, Sarra, who is
about to cast a spell to summon a flying mount, so the two of them
can travel to the Silver Lady's citadel and warn the elven queen of
the oncoming danger. Meanwhile, Thae'lynn plots to seduce and
control Thrazz, chieftain of the orcish hordes, with limited
success.]

   Thae'lynn

    The dark elven admiral stared at Mazzor in consternation.

   "What do you mean, he rejected you?" she demanded. "You said
your disguise was perfect!"

   "My disguise was not at fault, Dark Lady," the daemon replied.
"Thrazz was simply not receptive. He said that he was not that kind
of orc."

   "Well, by all the Eight Lords of Transformation, he was fucking
well receptive enough a week ago! What the hell happened in the
meantime?"

   "I don't know, Dark Lady. All I can tell you is that he isn't
what he used to be."

   "And why, by the Mother of Pleasure's Little Pearl, isn't he
what he used to be, great daemon-lord Mazzor?" Thae'lynn's voice
was both angry and sarcastic.

   "Again, Dark Lady, I do not know. Simply rephrasing a question
will not get you the answer you desire."

   "Oh, shut the fuck up, you arrogant hellbeast."

   Mazzor seemed unperturbed. "I will look into the matter, Dark
Lady. Our plan will succeed."

   "Making Thrazz my helpless sex-slave was part of the plan,
Mazzor. Without that particular element, I suspect our plans will
founder."

   "I could simply kill him, Lady. That would be easy enough."

   "Kill him, and the orcs will be leaderless. They'll turn on each
other, and on us, should they ever find out what happened to their
beloved leader. I wanted to control  Thrazz, not kill him. Now, you
claim he has transformed from a drooling, sex-crazed orc, into some
kind of intellectual snob."

   "As I said, I will look into the matter. I will leave now."

   "Do so, Mazzor. I'm not angry at you, really. I'm angry at that
idiot Thrazz, for developing a brain at such an inconvenient time."

   "I understand, Dark Lady. Goodbye."

   Thae'lynn sighed. The daemon's polite good nature was completely
at odds with the traditional conception of such creatures, though
his bestial sexuality was certainly agreeable. She reflected that
she actually felt some affection for the creature. In fact, she
thought, more than mere affection...

   She shook her head to clear it. She had better things to do than
get sentimental over some green-skinned gargoyle.

   Her eyes narrowed. Yesterday, the orcs had brought her a present
-- a unicorn, one of the few creatures which they had captured and
left alive. Presently, the beast remained imprisoned in the dark
elven stable-tent, tied down and pacified with drugs and magic.

   Thae'lynn had special plans for the beast. Severed unicorn horns
were favored playthings of dark elven women --  Thae'lynn had often
pleasured herself with such an object, slipping the smoothed broad
end or, when she felt daring, the thin, somewhat dangerous sharp
end, into her moist cunt, or rubbing it against her clit. The
Zhalha'sarr'im did such things partially to infuriate their high
elven cousins, who venerated and adored unicorns, the nasty little
creatures. To slay a unicorn and use its horn as a sex toy was a
very dark elven act, one which caused Thae'lynn considerable
amusement, as well as stimulation.

   But the Duchess of Darkoak Hill had far more in mind than simply
mutilating the captive unicorn and masturbating with its horn. In
one of her oldest and most treasured books of spells, she had found
a particularly diabolical enchantment, one which she intended to
use upon the unicorn. She mused idly that, though it was rather
risky, its potential rewards, both sexual and otherwise, were worth
the peril.

   Davalkar and Zurm, Thae'lynn's mad priests were busy concocting
the herbs and ointments required for the spell, and they claimed,
in between feverish rantings, that they would be ready by the
following night. She sighed deeply in anticipation.

   Tomorrow night, she thought. An event which would make up for
her disappointment at Thrazz. She took a deep breath, and wondered
if she should have her slaves bring in Yalvar, then thought better
of it.

   She should save her strength, she thought, for tomorrow night.

   Wulf

    I watched in fascination as Sarra inscribed her summoning
circle in the center of the grove, chanting softly as she did so.
She set small fires at each compass point, and sketched runic
inscriptions around the outside of the circle. Then, at last, as
the moons rose above the trees -- one near-full, the other
half-gone -- she fixed me with an odd look and, to my surprise,
began to shed her clothes.

   I remained silent, realizing that any question at this point
would simply sound stupid. I was familiar enough with druidic
nature-magic to know that several major rituals had to be performed
"sky-clad" or, to those of us less in tune with such tree-hugging
gobbledegook, naked. Several professors had mentioned it, though
most thought it was primarily psychological, and had little to do
with the actual manipulation of magical energies.

   For my part, I didn't really care about the theological and
magical subtleties of the ritual, but was content to watch with a
mind that was part analytical, part lustful.

   First, the lustful part -- up to this point I hadn't bothered to
envision Sarra naked, assuming that I was unlikely to see her in
such a condition. Now, seeing her without prior expectations, I was
impressed. Her red-gold hair hung down, unbraided and unrestrained,
to the middle of her back. Her face was possessed of a calm,
powerful expression, eyes closed, mouth pursed, head tilted back.
She spread her arms out, and stood expectantly.

   I couldn't help but admire. She was somewhat shorter than me,
her body tight and muscular. Her shoulders were corded and firm,
showing a rigid tension despite the placidity of her expression.
Her breasts were well-formed, nipples stiffening in the cold, her
stomach was strong but slightly rounded, her thighs and calves as
lean and strong as the rest of her, pubic hair dark blonde and
soft-seeming  in the flicker of her fires.

   She chanted softly, and a faint glow surrounded her. Then a
single strand of light rose up toward the starry sky, and I heard
a faint flapping of wings. A dark flock of birds appeared from the
surrounding trees, drawn toward Sarra like water pouring down a
funnel. They circled the grove, cawing and chirping -- dozens of
different species, all flocking indiscriminately together.

   Sarra waved her arms in a gesture of dismissal, and the birds
departed, flapping back to their roosts. Now a host of bats
appeared, their sharp chirps vanishing into the inaudible as they
circumnavigated Sarra's grove. Once more, she waved her arms, and
the bats were gone.

   Then, insects swarmed around us, and Sarra dismissed them as
well. Finally, long minutes passed with no more flying creatures
offering their services; Sarra's arms fell to her side, and she sat
heavily upon the ground.

   "You can come in now," she said, words weary and heavy. "There's
nothing close enough. Anything which offers itself over the next
few days will come and wait until we choose it or release it.
That's all I can do."

   I hastened to her side, and sat down beside her. On impulse, I
put an arm around her shoulders.

   "Want your clothes?" I asked.

   She shook her head, then looked up at me.

   "No," she whispered. "I don't."

   Though I'm normally pretty thorough in writing my recollections,
I am forced to admit that I don't entirely remember what happened
next. The fact is that I found myself pressing my lips against hers
and, after a moment's hesitation, I felt her mouth open, and the
sweet insistence of her tongue upon mine.

   "Sarra," I whispered. "We don't have to..."

   "We do," she replied, lips touching mine. "I want to. I know you
do. You do want me, don't you?"

   "Oh, yes," I said without hesitation. "I want you more than
anything else right now, but I don't want to..."

   "Don't want to what?"

   "I don't want to hurt you, or take advantage of you..."

   "You're a fool, Wulf," she said, smiling. "A kind fool, but a
fool nonetheless. Help me now. Help me put Raven to rest. Help me
learn to live now. Show me."

   Hm. If she needed help in putting her ghosts to rest, I decided
that I was willing to help. I finally let our lips touch, and
tasted her deeply.

   *  *  *  *

    My tunic vanished pretty much right off the bat, and in a
moment, we were standing face to face, lips entwined, tongues
touching. She was warm and supple against me, and her hands slid
gently but firmly up and down my back, sending ripples of sensation
throughout my body. 

   Many people claim that sex itself has magical qualities, and
even produces magical energies (my beloved Narisha claims that she
managed to ensnare me using sex magic, but I'm still not sure
whether I believe her). Whatever one's opinion of this theory --
and it certainly makes sense to me -- I don't think there can be
any disagreement that there was real magic in the air that night.

   Perhaps it was an effect of her spell, or perhaps it was simply
the enchanted ambiance of the place, but regardless of cause, we
were surrounded by hundreds  of darting and weaving fireflies, who
blinked with pale blue light like stars come to earth. 

   We kissed for what seemed like hours, feeling our bodies growing
warmer against each other, conforming to each other's contours,
hands exploring, tongues thrusting. Against Sarra's soft, yielding
abdomen, my cock grew stiff and solid, and raced with sensations as
Sarra's hands sought it out and encircled it.

   "I've not touched a man like this since Raven," she whispered.
"I've not wanted anyone until you."

   A warm rush of feeling swept over me -- the desire to hold and
protect this frail creature, coupled with a burning need to feel
her soft body beneath me, and feel my erect cock penetrate her
deepest, most secret places.

   A gasp escaped my lips as she slid down to her knees, kissing
her way moistly down my chest, biting briefly at my nipples,
licking down my abdomen, and finally reaching my thighs, where she
cradled my cock in pale, strong hands.

   "You're so hard," she whispered. "You're so hard for me."

   "Yessssss," I hissed in response. "I want to be hard for you."

   Moist pink lips parted, and a wet red tongue caressed the
underside of my cock, following its tracery of veins, slipping
around its head, flicking across its opening. Then she let my
hardened rod slide between her eager, shining lips and into her
waiting mouth.

   I've read some crude pornography (yeah, yeah -- I can hear you
laughing now; by the gods, I may write pornography, but it sure as
hell isn't crude; besides, it's all true...) about blowjobs from
point-eared elven babes. These are generally written by horny hacks
who've never even seen an elf, let alone gotten to touch one, and
are cranked out by the thousands by the White Empire and Litharnan
printing houses. Let me tell you, fantasy simply doesn't compare to
the real thing.

   Not that she was substantially different from the various other
races of women with whom I've shared intimate moments, but her
beauteous appearance, the magical setting, where the fireflies
danced ever faster and in ever greater numbers around us, made it
more than the sum of its parts. In silence, she fucked me with her
mouth, stroking my thighs and chest and nipples as she did so. I
stroked her hair and ears as she continued to suck at me, bringing
me to the edge a half dozen times and then letting me down once
more at precisely the right moment (was that some kind of elven
instinct we've never heard of before, I wondered?).

   At last, I could stand it no longer, and pulled her head away
from my organ. I held her chin and turned her head up to look at
me.

   "That's enough of that," I said, softly. "Your turn now."

   With that I kneeled in front of her and urged her onto her back,
white skin in stark contrast to the now-black grass beneath her. I
gazed at her for a moment before I began. Gods, but she was
beautiful. My heart beat faster as my gaze moved from her oval,
wide-eyed face and blonde hair in disarray, her rounded shoulders,
small but firm breasts, flat belly and shapely, columnar thighs,
now drawing apart as I stroked them, hands moving to the hidden
warmth of her cunt-lips.

   "Can I taste you?" I asked. "Can I put my tongue in you?"

   "Oh, yes, Wulf." Enthusiasm and desire in equal parts filled her
voice. "Taste me now."

   I ran my tongue down her belly, along the tops of her thighs,
where they joined her abdomen, down and down to the sweet, moist
furrow between them. I grazed the flesh of her cunt-lips, feeling
growing heat and wetness against me, tasting juices as sweet as
honey, spreading the soft outer lips, stroking the swelling nub of
her clitoris with my fingers, feeling her writhe languidly and
hearing her sighs and moans grow deeper and louder.

   "Ahhhh." It was an anticipatory sound, like the creak of a dam
about to burst. It grew in volume and desperation as I slipped my
middle finger inside her and teased her clitoris with a pointed
tongue. Slowly, I moved my finger in and out, feeling tightness and
wetness growing.

   "Faster," she gasped. "Please, faster..."

   I added another finger, at first against hard muscular
resistance, then increased the pace, lapping at her now- erect clit
with my entire tongue, opening my mouth wider to take in more of
her delicate flesh. Faster, now...

   It was as if the glade itself was attuned to its mistress, for
the fireflies danced in wild patterns, spinning faster and faster,
whirling around us. A warm breeze sprang up, rushing over our naked
bodies, caressing our skin like soft fingers. I felt my own
excitement build along with Sarra's as her voice faded into
wordless, soundless passion, she arched upward, then violently
seized my head and rode against me, cunt tightening around my
probing fingers, relaxing, then clamping down once more with even
greater force.

   "Fuck me..." she managed to gasp out in between contractions.
"Please, fuck me now..."

   Damme, I thought, I never knew elves talked like that. Then, I
was in passion's grip once more, moving astride her, fitting my
cock against her sopping pussy and sliding in, feeling her
contractions, which had been fading, suddenly return with renewed
vigor, closing on my organ, driving her once more into a frenzy of
orgasmic convulsions.

   Then I was atop her, holding her close, feeling her  taut,
muscular body against mine, thrusting in and out of the moist
sweetness of her cunt, feeling her own muscles squeeze and draw
passion from me with craving, eager tugs. My cock was surrounded by
her, and she seemed determined never to let me go, dragging against
me as I withdrew, crying out through clenched teeth, looking at me
with wild eyes as I plunged back inside.

   Her hands raced up and down me, and I felt nails rake my back,
my chest, my shoulders and nipples. I fixed my mouth to hers, and
it was as if we had become a single entity, lost in endless thrusts
and counter-thrusts, surrounded by warm breezes, held aloft by
thousands of glimmering points of light, tongues moving in unison,
cock and cunt blending, separating, then falling together once
more, faster, harder and deeper each time.

   Orgasm barreled down on me with the inevitability of a cavalry
charge. Even as she cried out, strained and arched against me, hot
waves of lust exploding outward from where my cock still pistoned
in and out of her slathering cunt, I felt an involutary moan build
to a near-scream, then at last, the accumulated hunger of the
previous hour came together in a single point and gushed forth,
spewing out of my body and into Sarra's, as her passionate cries
melted into ringing, silvery laughter, mouth open and delighted,
eyes bright, fixed upon mine.

   All in all, it had been one hell of a night, and as we drifted
off to sleep, with whispered endearments, small kisses and
caresses, I wondered how it would all end.

   If only I'd known...

    *  *  *  *

   

    Morning found us lying in the middle of Sarra's grove, wrapped
in each other's arms. Light shone in my eyes, and I awoke to see
the verdant glen awakening. Birds twittered gently, the stream
bubbled, a warm breeze caressed us. I stroked Sarra's hair softly,
and she awoke, looking down at me with deep brown eyes.

   "Good morning," she said.

   "Actually," I replied, "it is. Nice night, too."

   She smiled and kissed me briefly, then rose, wrapping herself in
a discarded cloak.

   "So," I called after her, "what exactly did we do last night?"

   She looked back, raising her eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

   I took a breath. "Was that just a one-time thing to banish
unpleasant memories, or is could there be any future in it?"

   She didn't reply immediately, but began to pick berries  and
fruits from nearby bushes and trees. I was just beginning to wonder
if she'd heard me when she turned and came back, a pale-skinned
vision inadequately covered by my cloak, arms loaded with bounty.

   "All I can say is that I don't know yet, Wulf," she said. "My
ghosts were vanquished quite adequately for the moment, but they're
still there. I'm not one of those elves who despises the sight of
a human --"

   "Obviously," I interrupted.

   "But then again, there are distinct disadvantages to taking a
human lover."

   "Such as?"

   "Such as staying young while you grow old. Such as us being from
entirely different worlds and cultures. Such as whether you come
and live here and deal with my race's prejudices, or whether I have
to go and live with your's. Such as --"

   "Yeah, I get the idea," I said, interrupting again. "Are you
saying we're just good friends?"

   She sighed and shook her head (a universal gesture among
humanoids, I'm beginning to suspect). "You blasted humans... You
always want to know now, now now, don't you?"

   I tried to look sagacious when I replied. "The fact is that we
can't afford to wait too long for an answer, or we get too old to
care. When your life is short, you tend to demand quick answers."

   "Point taken. You know it's a terrible stigma among my people to
love a human. Only a few steps above loving an orc, some would
say."

   "Such a loving, tolerant people, elves."

   "We're no worse than anyone else, Wulf."

   "Yes, I know, Sarra. The problem is that most of you think
you're much better."

   "Again, we're no different from you. My point is that I feel
something for you, but I don't know if I should inflict it on you."

   Grrr... "I understand." Maybe I did, at that. "Shall we just
wait and see what develops?"

   She relaxed. "That sounds reasonable."

   Mind you, reason and rationality rarely involved themselves in
the affairs of the heart, but I was willing to wait. Her arguments
were solid -- we were very different, she and I, and perhaps an
intimate (or even non- intimate) friendship would be less dangerous
than something more serious. Then again, part of me wanted to stay
here with her, and never let her go, even if it meant growing old
and wasting away as she remained young, beautiful and vital. Time
would tell, I thought.

   We spent two more days in the grove, waiting with growing
impatience, for the arrival of a flying beast large enough to carry
us to the Silver Tower. Several intriguing beasties showed up -- a
man-sized butterfly, a winged cat,  and what appeared to be a
small, aerial manta ray -- but none of these were large enough, and
Sarra dismissed them all. In between the arrival of the various
creatures, we sat and talked, discussed our lives (I was perhaps
too frank in descriptions of my past adventures, but it didn't seem
to bother her too much), and made love each night. It was sweet and
unhurried, for though we knew that time was of the essence, we also
knew that there was damned little we could do to hurry things up.

   Most people view elves as ice-cold and distant, as alien as
their damned art and music, and as passionless in love as they are
in daily life. Well, most people have never enjoyed a naked gallop
with a hot-blooded elven druidess who has just discovered that she
can still enjoy sex. Dear old Raven must have been quite the
swordsman, because her appetite grew with each kiss, caress, and
touch of my fingers or tongue. That bloody grove must have been
magic, since I was able to put in a performance worthy of my old
lion-man self and his iron-bound sexual constitution.

   Revealing the ravening appetite hidden within my little
point-eared lover was like pulling aside the habit of a staid
Koborist aesthete-nun and finding inside a Red Temple
Couch-Mistress. And, might I add, a Couch-Mistress who had been
denied her sacred sexual rites for a year or so, and was itching to
get back in the good graces of the Mothers of Pleasure...

   Sarra rode astride my cock, writhing up and down with shrill
cries; she rolled and heaved beneath me, nails scoring my flesh;
she drove pale white buttocks against me with unbridled passion as
I took her from behind; she relished the feel of my mouth, tongue
and fingers, against the fragrant moistness of her cunt and clit;
she made me come with slender fingers, and a touch like soft down,
or in the warm, velvety depths of her mouth, swallowing my semen
with grinning enthusiasm, then urging me to hardness again and
leaping on board like an imperial cavalryman. Gods, the randy
little trollop was liable to wear me out, and I found myself
wondering if there was any danger of us exhausting whatever
naturalistic energy powered the grove --  it was a damnsure fact
that I'd never have been able to perform like this normally.

   It was on the night of the third day, when we both had begun to
debate what to do if no appropriate creature appeared, that
everything went to hell.

   Rather than declining with familiarity, the sex had built to
such a fever pitch that I doubted we could go any further. I must
have come three times in as many hours, and her orgasms had been
beyond counting (again, I do not take personal credit for my
performance -- I'd always heard that druidic magic had a strong
sexual element; this simply proved it). I think we'd managed to rub
off several layers  of skin before we drifted off to exhausted
sleep, covered in scrapes and grass-stains, and dreams of more
excitement to come.

   She awakened me some time later, shaking my shoulder gently.

   "Wulf!" she hissed. "Someone's here!" She was up, had pulled on
leggings and a tunic, and strung her bow. With my usual clumsiness,
I did the same, all the while scanning our surroundings for
movement.

   The grove was deep in darkness, lit overhead by twin moons.
Silvery light cast long shadows and in a single, frightening
instant, I saw one of them move, and caught sight of glowing red
eyes.

   I focused on the shape. It was small, humanoid, and
nasty-looking. I quickly scanned elsewhere, and saw more.

   "Goblins!" I whispered. "They're all around us."

   "I know," Sarra replied. "They shouldn't even have found this
place -- it's got illusions and wards everywhere."

   "Magic has been acting strangely since the invasion began," I
said, nocking an arrow, and taking aim on a moving, red-eyed
shadow. "I was afraid that sword wouldn't be safe."

   "Don't gloat, human," Sarra replied, "or I might change my mind
about you."

   I snorted, and waited as the goblins crept closer. They
definitely saw us; I heard them jabbering, and glimpsed the gleam
of weapons. The first to enter the grove died with one of Sarra's
arrows through his throat, the second fell, squealing. Then they
charged.

   There were dozens of them. More died, or fell wounded, sprouting
arrows, and more fell to our blades. They were small, and not
terribly skilled, but they kept on coming, virtually fearless. They
screamed, and swung at us with small, curved swords. I managed to
parry most of the blows, but a few got through, nicking and gouging
me, draining my strength. Beside me, Sarra was also hard-pressed,
hewing with her broadsword, bringing it back stained with goblin
blood, then striking again.

   At last, the goblins fell back, leaving us exhausted, panting,
barely able to raise our weapons. Around the outside of the grove,
there was activity, and goblin archers came forward, armed with
short bows. In a moment, a torrent of goblin arrows rained down
upon us. I cried out in pain when one struck me in the shoulder,
drawing blood, and I heard Sarra shriek.

   I turned and saw, with horror, that she lay on the sward,
writhing, with two arrows in her -- one in her shoulder, and the
second low in her gut. My heart sank...

   "Sarra, we've got to get out of here," I said. "If I can get you
to a city..."

   "Not enough time," she gasped, face contorted. "I'm done for."

   Oh, gods... Not now...

   "Don't talk like that," I said. "I know some healing spells. Let
me try..."

   "Not enough time," she repeated. "You know what they'll do with
me..."

   I glanced back and forth between the stricken elf H Hwoman and
the slowly creeping shadows, who moved steadily closer, with
growing confidence as they saw we were not shooting in response.

   "Wulf..." Sarra's voice was tight with pain. "Please... Don't
let them..."

   I knew what she wanted. My stomach tightened as I gazed down at
her.

   "Sarra, please..." I said. "I can't..."

   "Wulf..." Her eyes pleaded with me. "I love you..."

   Finally, the dreaded words... I squeezed my eyes shut to ward
off tears, then looked down at her as tenderly as I could.

   "I love you, too, Sarra," I said. "Speak well of me to your
ancestors. Tell them I did you honor." 

   It was an elven farewell, and she nodded in response. "I will,
Wulf. Now, please..."

   I have no idea to this day how I managed what I did next, but I
braced myself, held my sword tightly in two hands, and swung down
at Sarra's neck. The gods were at least merciful enough to let me
kill her with one blow.

   Then I felt myself overborne by black goblin bodies. I tried
desperately to throw them off, hack at them with my sword, die
alongside the woman I'd pledged my future to, but I was denied that
mercy. While his fellows held me down, a goblin pounded on my head
with a large rock until I at last fell into unconsciousness.

   Love is worth the pain, someone once told me.

   Bullshit.

   *  *  *  *

    "Dearest Wulf-pet!" The voice dragged me back from darkness. I
recognized it, and by the time I managed to open my blood-encrusted
eyes, I knew damned well who I would see.

   "Lady Thae'lynn," I said, groggy and scratchy, the horrible
memories of Sarra's death returning in a flood. I realized that I
was naked, and bound with leather thongs to a large x-shaped frame.
"Forgive me for not standing up."

   "Still so amusing, dearest little Wulf," Thae'lynn replied. She
was masked, dressed in a long black silk robe, tied shut with a
sash. We occupied a large, roomy tent with no furnishings save a
pair of dark elven mage-globes, which lit the scene in a dim purple
light. It was a sturdily- built affair, constructed on a heavy wood
frame. A tangle of straps, ropes and metal rings hung from one
crossbeam -- their purpose I couldn't guess at, but knowing
Thae'lynn, it was probably something sick and twisted. At one end
of the tent crouched two wild-eyed, wild-haired dark elf males,
dressed in black robes embroidered with arcane symbols. Otherwise,
we were alone.

   "How the hell did I get here?" I asked.

   "Oh, my allies brought me another gift. Whenever they find
something novel, or something they don't understand, they either
kill it, or bring it to me. You're lucky enough to have been in the
last category twice now. The goblins said that you fought like a
daemon in that grove. I'm afraid that your companion didn't make
it."

   "I know," I said. "I killed her rather than let the goblins take
her."

   "Very noble." She saw the look in my eyes, and looked suddenly
contrite. "Oh, dear, Wulf. Were you fond of her? I'm so sorry. If
I had known, I'd have let you both die together."

   "Fuck you," I said. It was about all I had the strength for.

   "Very unimaginative, Wulf. I expected better of you." She turned
away. "I brought you here to participate in a very exciting event."
She addressed the two mad-faced robe- wearers. "Bring the unicorn!"

   The two scurried off, jabbering wildly about death and torture
and various other dark elven family entertainments.

   "My priests," she said. "Only marginally sane, but they have
their uses."

   "Opening gates to hell, for example?" I asked, and was rewarded
by a slight widening of Thae'lynn's eyes, and intake of breath.
"Ah, hit a nerve, did I?"

   "No," Thae'lynn replied, grimly, "but I will. Just wait. You're
an important part of our festivities. And to answer your question,
yes, they helped to open the gate. Even sacrificed one of their
number to the thing we summoned. Fine, strapping animal he was,
too."

   As I took in the full meaning of Thae'lynn's words, the two
priests returned, leading a dopey-eyed unicorn. The creature had
obviously been ill-used; its fur was lank, its stance and manner
weary.

   Thae'lynn's eyes lit up. With a grand gesture, she swept off
both mask and robe, and stood naked before me. She was as
perversely beautiful as I remembered, her ebon skin accentuated
here and there by bars and rings, her breasts rising and falling
with what I took to be great excitement. I looked at the
unfortunate unicorn with growing comprehension.

   "Ah, you see what I intend," Thae'lynn said. "Well, you've
probably only guessed part of the story." She approached me, and
reached out a hand, cradling my limp cock. Unsurprisingly, I did
not react -- my body had  simply taken too much punishment. "You
see, I found a spell which enables me to transform an ordinary,
goody-goody elven unicorn into a black, hellish beast possessed of
amazing intelligence, and completely loyal to its mistress. Of
course, it's a dangerous spell. The spell caster must be female,
and has to endure penetration by the unicorn's horn, a sharp and
hazardous object. Mind you, the enchantment itself is supposed to
protect the caster, but the danger is still there. Of course, I've
always found that potential death or injury during sex is very
stimulating to me. Also, as soon as the spell is complete, the
black unicorn must drink elven or human blood, or it will die."

   "That, I take it, is where I come in?" I asked.

   She nodded. "The orcs have left us no living elven captives, and
I'm loathe to use one of my own warriors. I have human slaves, so
I was going to use one of them, but good slaves are valuable. Then,
of course, my goblin friends brought you, and my problem was
solved. I'm simply finishing a job which I started some days ago.
By the way, how did you manage to escape?"

   "Wouldn't you like to know?"

   Thae'lynn shrugged. "It's of no matter. Trigon says its foolish
to defy one's fate, and all we're doing is setting the universe to
rights. In any event, Wulf, prepare yourself. And watch."

   I frowned, and considered looking away. On the other hand, if
this was going to be my last mortal experience, I really should sit
back and enjoy it.

   "Trigon's works on transformations suggest that an individual's
nature is mutable, and can be changed by magic and various other
experiences," she said, sounding like one of my instructors at the
academy. My frown deepened, torn between revulsion and excitement,
and I realized that my cock -- supposedly exhausted beyond
redemption -- had actually started to stir. "This spell is, I
think, a final confirmation of Trigon's theories. Taking a creature
of such innate purity as a unicorn, and turning it to a path so
radically different, it is transformed into another form of life
altogether."

   The two priests were busy, securing the unicorn's head in a
complex bridle, holding it steady by means of a number of reins. As
I said, the poor thing appeared drugged, and didn't seem in the
mood to resist.

   Thae'lynn approached the beast's great head, reached out a hand
and caressed the silver horn.

   "The spell, as if you care, involves the chanting of several
invocations, while the caster allows the beast's horn to penetrate
all three of her major orifices. The order of penetration is not
really important, but the precise repetition of the invocation is.
Now, watch."

   She began to chant. Thavaen's spell apparently  didn't cover all
elven languages, for her words emerged as a stream of mellifluous,
but somehow dark and twisted syllables, and I decided that it would
be next to impossible for me to duplicate them.

   As Thae'lynn chanted, one of the priests left off holding the
unicorn, and fetched a small earthen jar, which he respectfully
proffered to Thae'lynn. She reached in, still chanting, and began
to apply a shiny substance to the horn, a substance with glittered
and flashed. I felt the sting of magical energy in the air, and
surmised that this substance was involved in Thae'lynn's protective
enchantments.

   I was pretty certain that I was incapable of disrupting
Thae'lynn's spell. On the other hand, if I concentrated, I might be
able to tap enough of the energy she was using to do a little
casting on my own. The leather thongs which bound me were the
obvious target -- organic material, highly vulnerable to magical
corruption. It might take a while, however...

   Thae'lynn was busy with her own business, and it was obvious
that her work excited her. She breathed heavily, H Hmoving like a
sleek, black, silver-haired shadow, as she stroked the magical
stuff onto the unicorn's horn. Then, she stopped chanting and
carefully slipped the sharp horn between her dark lips. The priests
continued her chanting, and the glimmer of magic that covered the
horn slowly spread across the unicorn's dirty white hide.

   Moans of ecstasy escaped Thae'lynn's throat as the horn slid
past her lips and down her throat. The glimmer extended across
Thae'lynn as well, covering her head and shoulders, sending tiny
strands down across her breasts. Sparks flashed from the bars
through her nipples, and I saw her convulse as they did so. My
guess was that the energy being created was stimulating her like
millions of tiny fingers, and as the sparkling glow spread down her
belly, covering the smooth black skin of her buttocks and thighs,
then touched the juncture between them, her moans suddenly
increased in pitch and intensity.

   She continued to suck at the horn, and then slid it out of her
mouth. The glimmer had increased to a bright glow, which rose in
intensity as she slipped her lips down its length once more. I
heard a buzzing hum, which seemed to grow along with the increasing
light from the horn.

   I endeavored to concentrate on the energy which now tangibly
filled the air. It was a tough job, considering that my cock had
sprung back to life, and jutted uncomfortably from my loins. Not
that Thae'lynn and the priests noticed; their attention was fully
fixed upon the unfortunate unicorn. I softly pronounced my own
magical syllables, inaudible over the priests' frenzied chanting,
and the steadily-growing hum.

   Thae'lynn swallowed the great horn several more times  (I
guessed that her enchantment was working, since she had taken the
entire thing without apparent harm), then released it. Both she,
the unicorn and the horn had all absorbed the magical lambency.

   "We continue," she breathed, partially to herself, partially to
me. "The first modality is complete, now we move to the next
stage."

   As she spoke, the two priests were busy with the tangle of
straps. They fastened a hammock-like harness beneath her, and long
straps to her wrists, and her legs just above the knees. I kept
muttering my syllables as discreetly as I could, watching with
horrified fascination as Thae'lynn lay back luxuriantly in her
leather swing, stroking her thighs and drawing them apart,
displaying the blue-black lips of her swollen and moist cunt, and
the gleaming rings which studded her labia.

   "Now, priests," she said, then, to my surprise, addressed the
unicorn. "Worry not, my pet. Your precious horn is your route to
salvation. The doorway is my cunt, my sweet, wet cunt... Put your
horn in me, my pet. Fuck me..."

   The priests tugged on the reins, pulling the unicorn forward. It
did not resist, even when they gently pressed its head down, and
aimed the silver horn at the Thae'lynn's gaping slit, where her
clit-ring shone and glimmered with the magical energy.

   "Now..." Thae'lynn said, voice straining as if on the verge of
orgasm. "Put it in me now..."

   With a lurch, the unicorn stepped abruptly forward, and the
shining silver horn thrust into Thae'lynn. She cried out, writhing
in the straps, fingers tugging and rubbing at her clit. She was
coming, quite clearly, and as she did so, body heaving, sweat
gleaming across her breasts, she swung backwards and then suddenly
forward again, the horn sinking to its base in the hot depths of
her cunt.

   "Ohhhhhhhhh!" It was a loud, incoherent sound, that of multiple
orgasms, layered atop one another, enhanced by the raging magic
which now sparked and flashed from the horn, playing across her
skin, sending off hot blue-white motes from her nipple-bars, the
rings piercing her labia, her nose, her ears, her lips... Each time
a spark struck, she writhed again -- she was coming like a
firestorm, and the motes began to coalesce around both her and the
unicorn, forming a fiery blue-white nimbus.

   I gritted my teeth and continued my spell, even as Thae'lynn
rocked forward and back, the silver horn -- now glowing hot white
like molten metal -- thrusting in and out of her, slick with her
juices, sparks flying from her cunt- rings. I felt the thongs at my
wrist begin to loosen.

   "Now! Now!" Thae'lynn ordered urgently, and the priests stepped
forward once more, unstrapping her, then H Hallowing her to turn
over, strapping her face-down  into the contraption, her smooth
black ass displayed for the unicorn's attentions. I saw that a red
glow had started building in the unicorn's eyes, and it actually
moved with eagerness as the priests applied more of the glowing
stuff to the horn, and directed it toward the puckered recesses of
her asshole.

   I chanted faster, pulled hard against my bonds, but my
fascination was unabated. Thae'lynn cried out again as the sharp
horn penetrated her asshole, then emitted a single, long howl as,
of its own accord, the unicorn tossed its head, plunging the horn
deeply inside her. More sparks flew, and in a moment, the two were
completely cocooned in a web of flying, glowing motes.

   "In my ass, darling!" Thae'lynn's voice echoed from the blinding
sphere. "Fuck my ass, you beautiful animal..."

   An explosion of magical energy washed over all of us, bowling
the priests over, and obscuring Thae'lynn completely. It cleared an
instant later, and I saw the dark elf woman, hanging from the
straps, exhausted, but quite alive. The tattered, weary-looking
unicorn was not there anymore, however. In its place stood a leanly
muscled, slavering monster, like a unicorn save that it was heavily
muscled, glossy night-black, and its eyes glowed an evil red. Its
horn was still silver, but it glowed with a frightening vitality.

   "Ohhhhh," moaned Thae'lynn, weakly allowing her priests to
unstrap her and help her down from her sex- swing. "Darling,
darling unicorn..." Her sleepy gaze wandered toward me. "Kill him,
sweetheart. He's yours."

   I dragged desperately at the thongs, and with some relief, felt
that one or two of them were ready to break. Unfortunately, it
seemed a day late and a groat short, since the newly-born black
unicorn swept me with a contemptuous, burning red gaze, lowered its
head and charged, its glimmering silver horn aimed directly at my
heart.

   Imminent death makes people do strange things. With a gigantic
heave, utilizing reserves of strength I didn't even know I had, I
managed to wrench one hand free, the leather splitting and breaking
and, throwing in everything I had left, lashed out desperately,
striking the smooth horn, and diverting it from its intended
target, to plunge violently into the wooden cross immediately above
my left shoulder.

   The unicorn screamed in rage and frustration, its hot breath
searing me, its jagged teeth gnashing. With a crash, the entire
cross heeled over, landing us both on the floor. The unicorn
continued to scream, and finally wrenched its horn loose. As it did
so, the horn described a short arc and -- gods only knew how --
managed to graze the thongs holding my left wrist. I pulled again,
and they came loose as the unicorn disengaged itself from the
fallen cross.

   Well, my feet were still bound, but the unicorn seemed to have
temporarily forgotten me, turning its attention on Thae'lynn and
her two priests. After all, she HAD said elf or human blood was
sufficient, and the room's sole human occupant had proved
frustrating to kill. As I fumbled for the knots (finding them
inconveniently located behind the frame itself), the black unicorn
snorted, whinnied, and reared, hooves striking the great wooden
center post. The tent swayed, but did not fall, even as the unicorn
launched itself at the Thae'lynn, who crouched, exhausted and
terrified, in the arms of her mad priests.

   Vengeance would have been sweet at this point, but it was not to
be. With a wild cry, one of the priests launched himself at the
charging beast.

   "Take me, Dark Ones!" he cried, then screamed in a combination
of agony and near-sexual ecstasy as the horn thrust through his
chest, sending a splatter of dark blood geysering over Thae'lynn
and the surviving priest. The horn was far less gentle with the
priest than it had been with Thae'lynn's various openings, and the
dark elf died quickly. As I managed to free myself from the last of
the thongs, the black unicorn began to drink and eat with enormous
relish from the still-twitching corpse.

   "Stop him!" Thae'lynn shouted, recovering nicely, pointing at
me. The surviving priest snapped to obey, drawing a curved black
dagger and leaping at me.

   My eyes locked on the center post, splintered and tottering from
the unicorn's assault. I leaped at it, kicking as hard as I could,
and was rewarded with a renewed splintering, as the post bent and
broke, sending crossbeams falling.

   The priest looked up, dumbfounded, as a crossbeam landed
squarely on his white-tressed head. I didn't wait around to see the
results, but instead scrambled out of the falling tent, listening
to Thae'lynn's screams of rage fade in the distance.

   How I got out of the dark elf encampment, I cannot say. Perhaps
the guards were distracted by the ruckus at Thae'lynn's. Perhaps
the gods did favor me, after all. Whatever the cause, I ran
unmolested and unchallenged, back into the dark forest.

   *  *  *  *

    Naked, unarmed, and pretty thoroughly humiliated by the past
night's debaucheries, I wasn't enitely sure what to do. I was easy
prey for the orcs, their allies, and the various hellbeasts
stalking these woods, and my mind had been pretty thoroughly
blasted by Sarra's death and the violent sexual drama I'd just
escaped. So it was that, when the glowing, shimmery form of a tall
elven male appeared before me, bearing a familiar suit of mail and
holding a  familiar weapon, I evinced very little surprise.

   "Raven, is it?" I asked. "I'm sorry, but I seem to have made a
bit of a hash of things."

   "Fear not, mortal," boomed the ghost, melodramatically. "Your
destiny is set, and your path unchangeable. You shall take up this
weapon, and wear this mail, and you shall be the avenger."

   I sank to my knees, wearily.

   "You," I said, "have got to be fucking kidding, you pretentious,
point-eared git."

   I'd never seen a ghost do a double-take before (actually, I'd
seen damned few ghosts, period, but that's as may be), but the
spectre seemed to stop short and stare at me in perplexity.

   "You're not supposed to say that," he said, plaintively.

   "Oh, shit, elf-boy, I am so far beyond sticking to your fucking
stupid script it isn't even funny." I glared at him. "So I rogered
your girlfriend and now she's dead, and I'm supposed to take up the
Sword of Justice and avenge her, huh? Well find yourself another
chump, buddy..."

   As you can see, I was way too tired and disgusted to be
especially fearful. Raven didn't take it well.

   "You ignore the call to vengeance, mortal?" he demanded. "Our
shades shall haunt you forever, dogging your every step, invading
your dreams, filling your every waking hour with --"

   "Oh, I'm shakin'," I said. "I so fuckin' scared of the scary
elf-ghost. Don't you think we have exorcists back home, numbskull?
The Orlanists would LOVE to banish you to some nether dimension. So
lay off, will you?"

   Raven frowned. "Are you saying you won't avenge me or Sarra?"

   "You win a cookie," I said. "I just want to go home, get drunk
and get laid, in that order. Fuck off."

   He took a new tack. "What if I ask you nicely?"

   "No dice," I said, but I think my expression gave me away.

   Raven's ghost dropped the sword and mail, and fell to his knees,
hands held out beseechingly. "Please?"

   I glared. "No."

   He spread his arms out, as if he was about to be nailed to a
wall by a fanatical Kyborist witch-hunter. "Pleeeeeeeease?"

   "NO!" This was getting bloody annoying.

   "PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEASE??????"

   "Gods damn it!" I roared. "I'll avenge you, you pasty- faced
bastard! Just shut the fuck up!"

   Raven returned to his former, calm state. "Take up sword and
mail," he intoned, all seriousness once more. "Avenge me. Avenge my
land. Avenge my people."

   "Dammit, I asked you to shut up!"

   Not wanting to press his luck, Raven vanished, leaving me with
both mail, which I donned, along with the arming coat which he had
thoughtfully provided, and sword, which I buckled on. Okay, okay,
I was the fucking avenger of everything that was right and good.

   Now what?

   *  *  *  *

    Again, I don't know how I did what I did. I walked purposefully
through the forest, ready to fight anything which opposed me.
Nothing did, and by evening, bereft of sleep, food, and rest, I
arrived at Sarra's grove. Her body was gone, whether torn asunder
by the goblins or reclaimed by her forest, I did not know. It
didn't matter. It was her soul I was supposed to avenge, not her
body.

   In the center of the grove stood a great, winged horse, black
and sleek, gazing at me mildly, as if it had always known me. It
was Galewing, of course, Raven's black pegasus, returned to carry
his avenger into battle. That fucking ghost had thought of
everything...

   I mounted the beast as if I had been doing so for years, and we
took to the skies with a sweep of mighty wings. Nothing opposed us
as we flew, either. The forests and rivers fled beneath us. We
passed a great city set afire by the orcs, probably Flameharrow.
Its walls were breached, and smoke rose in great clouds. The orcs
and their allies ran riot through the city, pillaging, looting,
killing and raping. The sound of harsh orcish laughter and the high
screams of elven torment echoed up to the skies.

   By nightfall, the forests had transformed into rolling green
plains, interrupted here and there with ranches and farmsteads,
crisscrossed by elven roads. From the middle of this pastoral land
rose a great circular wall of seamless, gleaming white, and in the
center, a slender silver tower, rearing up far higher than any
human dwelling, higher than logic dictated it should have.

   It was the Silver Tower. I guided Galewing lower, heading toward
the pinnacle of the tower, and my destiny.

   Damn you, Raven, I thought, you've made me as fucking
pretentious as you are...

   Thrazz

    The Lord of the Iron Gate exulted, howling along with his great
wolf-mount, as the great elven city rose up in flames. He took
another drink from his chalice, and the love of carnage raced
through his veins like boiling lead.

   Elven pride and arrogance had been their downfall. Meeting him
outside the gates of the city, the elf nobles had each commanded a
separate contingent of warriors, with no one in overall command.
Even as the nobles bickered and  argued about who was in charge,
Thrazz's goblins were upon them, closing in under cover of a storm
of arrows, attacking, inflicting damage, then falling back,
heedless of the huge piles of their own corpses they left behind.

   Thrazz found it simple to isolate, chase down and destroy the
individual elven units as they advanced without plan or real order.
True, the elves were awesome warriors --  their infantry
resplendent in black or silver scale, clutching ancient spears with
hardwood shafts and enchanted heads, their knights and lesser
cavalry fearless and terrifying in the charge -- but even the
greatest of armies was helpless without a leader, and the elves
were under the separate and independent command of a dozen
competing nobles.

   Infantry were shot to pieces by goblins, or wolf- mounted
archers. Cavalry was avoided, allowed to charge, then attacked by
armored human Slaerthists, or elite black orcs, pulled from their
saddles, and hacked to death by countless foes. It mattered not a
whit to Thrazz that for every elf who fell, a dozen orcs, goblins
and humans died; he had twenty or more to every elf, so he remained
ahead of the game.

   Banner after green elven banner fell, its last defender slain,
as the blood-red flag of Thrazz advanced, victorious, all across
the field. One of the last to fall was an elven wizardess mounted
on a silver and white unicorn. Her spells alone felled more than
the rest of the elven force combined, but in the end, armored human
riders thundered down on her, sending her fleeing, into the waiting
arms of a horde of goblins, who eagerly swarmed over her,
chattering and screaming, cutting her to pieces, while taking the
better part of two hours to finally put the unicorn out of its
misery (Lady Thae'lynn sent word that she wanted the horn, but
given her recent behavior, and the fact that her dark elves once
more remained discreetly out of the fight, Thrazz was not inclined
to respond quickly).

   Thrazz guided his wolf across the grassy sward, gazing with awe
and joy at the endless piles of elven corpses. His orcs and humans
systematically stripped the bodies, salvaging what armor and
weapons they could, while the goblins laughed and capered, dancing
on bodies, trying on oversized elf-helms, fighting mock battles,
and generally making obnoxious little fools of themselves.

   Thrazz sighed. Let the little nonentities have their fun. They
had little role in the destiny which he planned.

   For Thrazz did, indeed, see visions of a greater destiny.
Conquest, death, and destruction were all well and good -- in fact,
they were basic orcish principals. But there was more, now. So much
more. Soon, his legions would stand at the gates of the Silver
Tower itself. The Lady would have the choice of surrender or death.
Her choice  mattered not at all -- either way, Thrazz would be the
next ruler of the Elven Isles.

   The riches of the realm glittered in Thrazz's imagination. So
many orcish chieftains had tried, and so many had failed. They rose
and fell like swells of the ocean, conquest and victory followed by
overextension, internal bickering, and eventual fall. It was said
that the orcs would conquer the world, if they ever stopped
fighting each other.

   Well, it was Thrazz's plan to end all that. He would make a new
realm here, with his orcs as its rulers. His old realm could fall
back into strife and anarchy, his relatives fighting for supremacy.
The Elven Isles would be Thrazz's new home. He would elevate the
more intelligent and capable orcish and human minions to positions
as nobles. He would enslave all the surviving elves, and force them
to serve him, creating invincible weapons and powerful magics, and
the new realm would be supreme in the world. The human realms would
be next -- Litharna, or the White Empire. With such realms under
his control, nothing could stop him. The dwarves, the jarreks, the
Xeshites, even the red-skinned demons of the north -- none would
stand against him. Conquest was within Thrazz's grasp.

   Or so it seemed to him, as he took another deep draught from the
chalice, and screamed for more.

   Thae'lynn

    The Duchess of Darkoak Hill had forsaken her minotaur bearers
and now rode her new black unicorn mount, whom she'd christened
Valla. The minotaurs seemed somewhat nonplussed that Thae'lynn had
given up their attentions for the moment -- Mazzor more than
satisfied her, though she had increasingly exciting thoughts about
Valla.

   She and Mazzor stood on a low rise, taking in the carnage, and
the destruction of the ancient city of Flameharrow.

   "King Thrazz is upset that your warriors still haven't fought,"
Mazzor said.

   "Fuck him," Thae'lynn said, even more contemptuous than usual.
She was irritable, nursing bruises from the previous night's
fiasco. "We're his gods-damned reserve, and I'm not fighting unless
I have to. We provided him with naval transport, and he is expected
to do the rest."

   Valla snorted, and cast Thae'lynn a loving, if wicked, glance.

   She sighed, stroking the beast's black mane. "Oh, Valla," she
said, affectionately, "I'm not angry at you. I'm angry at that
orcish tinhorn and his sudden intellectual development."

   "Any other plans for his lordship?" Mazzor asked. "For my part,
I'm rather upset that his goblins didn't save that  elven wizardess
for me."

   "Thrazz would probably tell you that if we stayed closer to the
front, instead of lurking in reserve, we'd have more chance at such
things, but I'm finished paying any attention to him. And the
answer is yes, I am working on a new plan for Thrazz. It's somewhat
less subtle than the last one, but I'm rapidly running out of
patience. Don't worry, my beloved daemon. We'll rule these lands.
Together."

   Mazzor nodded. "Together. My Lady, I must admit that you have
stirred feelings in me that I have not felt in centuries."

   "Really?" Thae'lynn was intrigued. "And who was the last woman
to stir such feelings?"

   The daemon scratched his chin. "Hmmm. Her name escapes me."

   "What happened to her?"

   "I ate her. But don't worry, Lady. I was sorry immediately
afterward."

   "Try it and you'll pay, daemon. Just think you won't."

   Mazzor chuckled. "I believe you, Lady."

   Wulf

    I strode down the long, gleaming white hallway which led to the
Silver Lady's audience chamber. When I had guided Galewing down to
a platform at the top of the tower, the guards had gazed at me in
wonderment, then stood aside, recognizing the mount, the armor, and
the weapon I carried. They didn't realize that I was human for
several long moments, since my hair was bound up and my ears
covered by my helm, but even when they saw I was not one of their
stuck-up lot, they still allowed me to pass, apparently impressed
by some quality beyond my mere physical presence.

   I seemed to know instinctively which way to go -- that bastard
Raven might have been guiding me, but I wasn't certain. Black wood
gates opened before me of their own accord, ushering me into the
great, vault-roofed chamber, where sat the white-robed queen of the
elven lands.

   When I came into the presence of the Silver Lady, however, my
determination wavered, my anger at Raven and the stupid mess he'd
talked me into abated. Staring at her like a rube watching his
first barn burn down, I never felt more inadequate, imperfect, and
unfinished. Beside her, I was a crude mannikin of clay, barely
distinguishable as a living being. Here, my mind told me as I fell
to my knees, gazing in adoration, was true perfection, and beauty
which could not exist outside of paradise.

   And yet, here she was, sitting upon a tall, carved white throne,
flanked by elven knights in silver mail and helms with white
horsehair crests. Though seated, it was obvious that she was
unnaturally tall and slender, her face  an impossible collection of
curves and angles, longer and more delicate than any human. Her
hair was long and golden, her eyes deepest blue, reflecting a soul
that was breathtakingly beautiful, yet terribly far from anything
I would call human. Though physically she retained a familiar form,
I realized that I was in the presence of something very, very old,
and something which existed in this world only partially.

   "Majesty..." I began, croaking in a cracked and ugly voice.

   "You are known to us," she intoned, lips barely moving. "You are
called Wulf, though you have many names, and many bodies, and have
lived many lives. You come to us seeking vengeance."

   "Well," I began, the old Wulf suddenly reasserting itself, "I
was kind of persuaded by a whining elf ghost named Raven, but, yes,
I'm to seek vengeance. " I indicated the sword. "The druidess Sarra
told me that this sword would have to be given to you for
safekeeping. I have one boon to ask of you before I return it,
however. As requested by the spirit of the warrior, Raven, I wish
to use this sword to destroy those who killed Sarra."

   The queen did not reply immediately, and when she did it was not
what I expected. "Many things killed Sarra, Master Wulf. Greed
killed her -- the greed of the goblins, true, but the greed of my
people as well. You see, we are a selfish race, arrogant and
insular. We consider ourselves greater than all other races, and
keep our lands jealously to ourselves as a consequence. The goblins
come seeking our riches, and we fight them, as we fight the humans,
and the dwarves, and each other. Pride killed your lover, as well
--  the pride of an ancient people who refuse to ask for help even
when it was needed, the pride of a brash young race bent on
conquest. Anger killed her -- the anger of the goblins who feel
that the world hates them, and the anger of the elves, who feel the
world was stolen from them." She paused again, for long moments.
"If you would take vengeance upon Sarra's killers, you must take
vengeance upon us all. That is the curse of the blade you carry."

   Her words struck me heavily. Despite the fact that I had been
manipulated and cajoled into accepting this mission, I felt the tug
of the sword, and that of bloody vengeance. If given leave to
avenge Sarra and Raven, I suddenly realized that I would not rest
until every goblin and orc, every human and dark elf on the isles
was slain. Then what? Would I turn on the elves whose arrogance and
overconfidence caused her death? Would I then take revenge against
an entire world for the pain and sorrow it created? Who then? The
gods, who put us here, and laughed at our pain? The universe
itself? Where would it end?

   I realized, with a sinking heart, that I didn't know the answer.

   "I don't think Raven knew what he was asking when he selected
you as the instrument of his revenge," the queen said. "He was
always a rash and thoughtless warrior."

   Hm. The tug of the sword was as yet light, but I knew it would
grow irresistable if I unsheathed it, and drew blood. Now was the
time to stop; if I waited, I might never be able to.

   I unbuckled the sword and laid it on the floor in front of me.
The anger I had felt drained away, replaced by sadness at Sarra's
death, and even a trace of understanding of Raven's demands. I was
still pissed off at him, though...

   "Take it, majesty," I said. "In my hands it would only bring
suffering and pain."

   She smiled, and it was as if the sun had come from behind a
cloud.

   "You do your race honor, Wulf," she said. "We will take the
sword. And you may also serve us in another way, if you so desire."

   I bowed my head. "How would that be, majesty?"

   "Warlord Thrazz has drunk of the Ruby Chalice, and even now
marches upon this tower with strength and intelligence borne of
wrath and desire. The madness of the Chalice will consume him, but
not before all our realms lie in ruins, and our people dead at his
feet. The daemon-lord Mazzor rides beside the dark elven duchess
Thae'lynn, and by his will and power, holds open a gate to his
infernal realm, through which come horrors beyond imagining. The
city of Flameharrow has been burned to a cinder, its citizens
slain."

   I listened with growing horror, as the queen continued. "In the
face of this disaster, the nobles of the realms have finally set
aside their differences, and I have issued my command to muster.
Outside these walls, as we speak, a mighty army gathers. We will
make our stand ten leagues to the south, at Valaron's Tomb."

   The two knights standing guard hadn't moved a muscle since I'd
entered (I found myself wondering if they were still alive), but
when the queen mentioned Valaron's Tomb, I heard a rustle of
armored scales and saw one of them blink, a brief look of
astonishment flashing across his face.

   "That is where you can help us, Wulf," the queen said.
"Valaron's Tomb is the final resting place of the great
dragon-mage, who is said to be the progenitor of our entire race."

   "Dragon-mage?" I asked.

   "Few know the descent of the elven race, human. We are the
children of dragons, as the dwarves are the children of the giants.
Valaron was a mighty dragon-elf creature who created these lands,
protected them, and fashioned the ancestors of the elves who live
today."

   "Ah, I see. So you're descended from dragons, and the dwarves
are from giants. What the hell are we the descended from, anyway?"

   Our eyes met, and her next words resonated deeply in the hall.
"From angels, human. You are of the heavens."

   "What do you mean?"

   "I'll say no more of it, human. Your task lies with us, and time
is wasting."

   I reluctantly left the queen's cryptic comments behind, and
continued to listen.

   "Valaron's great prophecy, delivered on his deathbed, states
that he would return again when the isles were in peril, but that
he could only be awakened by one who was not of the blood."

   "You mean non-elvish?"

   "Yes. No elf can enter his tomb."

   I frowned. More of that strange elven mumbo-jumbo. "Why the hell
not?"

   She made a vague gesture. "Who are we to question prophecy?"

   It was what I'd expected. "I take it you want me to enter the
tomb and awaken this Valaron guy?"

   "We do. Valaron said that one would come before us who was not
of the blood, who wished vengeance, yet shunned its instrument, and
in doing so would himself become the land's savior."

   "And that would be me?" I said, rhetorically.

   "You know the answer."

   "Yes, I do. That's why I asked rhetorically."

   She didn't smile, but she seemed at least vaguely amused.

   "You must enter his tomb, overcome its guardians, and awaken
Valaron. He can cast magics sufficient to close the daemon's gate,
and defeat much of Thrazz's army. Do you accept?" she asked.

   I hesitated. What guardians? The elves looked at me expectantly,
however, and I was in no position to refuse. I nodded. "Nothing
better to do. If it beats the orcs, I imagine Sarra will be
suitably avenged."

   "She will."

   "And that whining Raven creep will leave me the hell alone, like
I wanted."

   She remained silent. At last, I stood up once more and stared
the most ancient being in mortal realms straight in the face.

   "When do I leave?" I asked.

   *  *  *  *

    The Lady had the good grace to cast a few healing spells on me,
so I left the hall, armed and armored, the evil sword still in her
possession, heading past staring  elf courtiers toward the platform
where Galewing awaited.

   As I went, I noticed a group of blue-skinned sky elves, and with
enormous relief, saw a familiar face.

   It was Nyss, standing casually near an archway. She'd looked
better -- her hair was wild, her eyes haggard, and one arm was in
a sling, but she was definitely alive. I hastened toward her.

   "Nyss!" I exclaimed, relief flooding through me. "You're alive!"

   She saw me, and her tired face broke into a smile. "Wulf! It's
you! I was afraid I'd never see you again."

   "Same here," I replied. "Gods, what happened?"

   "Without you weighing me down, I was able to outdistance those
creatures. I tried to come back and look for you, but there were
too many of them. Besides, I was wounded."

   I frowned. "Can't you people heal each other?"

   She shook her head. "It's a gift we can only share with
outsiders."

   Hm. It had crossed my mind that the sky elves could always
masturbate to heal minor injuries themselves; pity it didn't work.

   "So you have to heal naturally?"

   "We do," Nyss said, nodding. "What happened to you?"

   I explained, giving her the short form, since I suspected time
was of the essence.

   She was impressed. "I wish you luck, Wulf. I would fly with you,
but my wings are badly worn."

   "No," I said. "The Lady told me I had to do this alone. In any
event, I have to go. Is there any chance I'll see you again?"

   "There's always a chance, Wulf. Remember that there is always a
chance."

   "I'll keep my calendar open, then," I said. I bowed, took her
good hand and kissed it. "Goodbye for now, then, Nyss."

   She smiled again. "Goodbye, Wulf."

   Thrazz

   "My lord," hissed the Slaerthist scout, "your foes are deploying
around a burial mound perhaps a day's march north." The scout's
lips were twisted and disfigured by ritualistic scarification, and
cabalistic chaos-symbols had been inscribed all over his body. He
was nearly naked, save for a breechclout, carried a compound bow
and a quiver of arrows, their tips smeared black with poison, and
he twitched and capered uncontrollably.

   "Good," Thrazz replied. The human filled him with a certain
level of disgust. He knew that his followers didn't fear death, but
these freaks seemed to welcome it, as if the pain of this world was
only a minor curtain-raiser to the endless pain and suffering of
eternity in the jaws of  Slaerth and the other chaos-gods. 

   He sighed and snorted. "Get me information on their
dispositions, human. With luck we can finish the bastards once and
for all."

   The scout whooped loudly, then bounded away across the sea of
green grass.

   Thrazz watched him go philosophically. The Slaerthists served
their purpose, and almost never retreated, even when butchered to
the last man. They were useful, certainly, but he saw little place
for them in his future realm.

   He was glad to get the damnable forests behind him. Here was
land where his wolf-riders could move, where his goblins could
dance and leap freely, where his orc warriors could plod along
without hindrance.

   And so they did, leaving leagues of trampled grasses behind.
Scouts and goblin wolf-riders moved in the van, seeking out and
engaging the enemy. Goblin archers came next, screening his great
mass of orcish infantry and riders, supported by heavily-armored
Slaerthists and human corsairs. As usual, the dark elves took up
the rear.

   Thrazz growled. The damned weak-kneed dark ones had yet to take
a single casualty, or launch a single volley of arrows at the
enemy. The fucking daemon which Thae'lynn -- gods rot her -- had
summoned from the planes had done his share, true -- killing that
elvish warlord at the Citadel, but overall the dark elves had
proven a huge disappointment. By all the gods, he'd see that they
fought their fair share in the coming conflict. Thrazz was too good
a commander to be overconfident; he'd need every able- bodied
fighter he had to overcome the elves, now that they were united and
well-led.

   Oh, what carnage there would be, he thought. What bloodshed, and
what glory. The new realm of the orcs was about to be born!

   Thrazz decided he needed a drink, and reached for his chalice.

   Thae'lynn

    "Word's come back," Thae'lynn told Mazzor, who walked
ponderously beside her, wings sweeping restlessly, as she guided
Valla across the grassy landscape, crushed and pitted by the orcs
in the van, "the elves have drawn up around a burial mound to the
north. We should have a battle by tonight."

   "It's good," Mazzor said. "You say that you can handle Thrazz
yourself?"

   "I can and will," Thae'lynn replied. "You're free to inflict
whatever carnage you want upon the elves. And that martinet has
'demanded' to use his word, that I stop keeping my troops in the
rear, come forward and, as he says 'fight like orcs.' The
mother-loving bastard!"

   "Hmhm." The sound was a deep booming that might have been
laughter. "Your Lord Thrazz will surprised what aid the dark elves
bring. I've summoned those of my hellspawn close enough to reach us
in time. The daemons will fight alongside the orcs and humans this
night."

   "Well done, lover," Thae'lynn said. "We'll make good rulers when
this is over." A squad of black-armored cavalry trotted by, tack
and metal jingling. "I've ordered several contingents forward to
fight in any event. I may even get into armor myself. It's been too
long since we've had a good scrap."

   Mazzor's horned head swiveled to gaze at her with intense yellow
eyes. 

   "Keep yourself safe, Dark Lady," he said. "I wish you to be
alive when this foolishness is over."

   Unfamiliar emotions stirred within Thae'lynn as the daemon-lord
took to the air and swept skyward. She realized that she, too,
wished to be alive for Mazzor.

   Gods, she thought, talk about mixed marriages...

   Wulf

    Galewing set me down near the tomb. For an elven construct, it
was a surprisingly simple affair -- a low grassy mound with a
single wooden door, flanked by weathered columns, fluted and
surmounted by crouching dragons. Though I wore a suit of elven
scale, and carried both sword and spear given me by the queen
herself, there was little that could relieve the gnawing
apprehension I felt. I dismounted and approached the doors, then
looked back at the elven army.

   The sun sank low over the field. They'd have to fight in the
enemy's element -- night. Elven high mages were even now casting
spells to increase the ambient light of the moon and stars, but it
would still be far from perfect.

   Endless ranks of elven pikemen and swordsmen stood still in the
center, a mere half-mile distant. On either flank stood hundreds of
armored elf-knights, holding long white or red lances, wearing
tall, silver or bronze helms, feathered plumes waving in the light
breeze. Wild elf horse archers were deployed in a loose cloud
around the knights, and overhead I saw giant eagles, hippogriffs,
and, to my wonder and astonishment, three great dragons, wings
beating, scales gleaming in the late afternoon sun, wheeling and
diving against the blue sky.

   Dragons, I knew, were rare, and difficult to awaken. Needless to
say, this was a crisis which threatened all the realms, and was
more than sufficient to require awakening the dragons, but I felt
a touch of sadness that only three had responded. All the same,
these would be a potent force for the elves.

   In the distance, I saw a black stain, covering the  plains. It
was the orcs, come at last. Above them, wyverns and griffins flew,
easily a match for the elven  eagle-riders, and enough to at least
keep the dragons from intervening in the struggle on the ground
below  until the orcs had broken through and slaughtered the 
Silver Lady's army. 

   I swallowed heavily, and pushed open the door of the tomb.

   Thrazz

    "Send the archers forward!" Thrazz bellowed at Grofim, his
adjutant. "They won't do much damage, but they'll keep the
point-eared scum's heads down! We'll move up the infantry using the
archers for cover to keep the elves' center pinned, then feint with
the goblin wolf-riders, hit their knights with our mounted orcs,
and finish them off with the human knights and dark elves! Double
envelopment, see?"

   Grofim looked at him in puzzlement. "Double what, boss?
Shouldn't we just attack and kill 'em all?"

   Thrazz rolled his eyes. Damn all subordinates, anyway...

   "Just do what I tell you, Grofim, and there'll be lots of elves
for you to torture tomorrow, all right?"

   Grofim grinned crookedly. "You got it, boss!" He spurred his
wolf forward and bounded away.

   When we take over, Thrazz thought idly, there are some of US
we'll have to get rid of...

---------------------------

 The Red and the Green
                               Part 5

   [Previously, Wulf the Freelance, stranded in the elven isles and
caught in a war between the elves and the invading orcs and their
dark elf allies (the last under the command of the lustful and
perverse -- ya know her, ya love her -- Lady Thae'lynn, and her
daemon-lover Mazzor). With his elvish lover Sarra slain, Wulf
swears (or is talked into) vengeance and is sent by the Silver
Lady, queen of elven lands, to awaken an ancient dragon-mage, but
only after he outwits the "guardians" who protect his tomb.]

   [THIS STORY IS NOT TO BE DISTRIBUTED TO INDIVIDUALS UNDER
EIGHTEEN YEARS OF AGE]

    Wulf

    A rude stairway led down into the earth. I took a deep breath,
heavy with age and the scent of ancient soil, loosed my sword, and
proceeded. The stairs vanished into darkness below, and I pulled
out a short wand, given me by the queen, which lit my way with a
hard, white illumination.

   The stairs ended perhaps fifty feet beneath the surface, and
turned into a long, stone corridor. The weight of the earth above
me pressed down, absorbing sounds, making me even more nervous.

   The guardians, I wondered -- where were the guardians? And what
the hell WERE the guardians? The queen had been of little use in
that regard, telling me only that such things existed, and that I
would have to overcome them. As to their exact nature, and
precisely how I was expected to overcome them, she had no idea.

   The passage ended in a simple door. I knew in my heart and soul
that my goal lay on the other side. Steeling myself, and making
sure I was still armed (my sword arm felt downright numb), I pushed
through the door.

   The interior was as awe-inspiring as the outside had been
ordinary. The wand was no longer necessary, for all was lit by a
soft white glow. A long, colonnaded hallway led to a raised dais at
one end, perhaps fifty paces distant, upon which lay a gigantic
stone sarcophagus. In between the columns stood pairs of statues,
eight in all -- life-sized carvings of nude elven women, each of a
different material. Their height and build differed; some had small
breasts, some larger, some had wide hips and a heavier frame, while
others were lean to the point of being almost bony, but they all
clearly shared a common elven physique -- serene, fine-featured
faces, pointed ears, and long hair, ranging from shoulder- to
back-length. They had been carved in postures of repose, standing
relaxed, eyes closed, hands at their sides. Some wore modest
jewelry -- tiaras, bracelets, necklaces -- but in the main, they
were entirely naked, and quite stimulating to look at.

   Were those the guardians, I wondered, taking a step into the
room? As I did so, my question was answered in the affirmative; as
a single individual, the statues' eyes flickered open, and they
came to life, stepping into the corridor, blocking my way.

   I stopped, heart racing, but they did not attack. Instead, they
spoke.

   "I am Onyx," said the first, carved of gleaming black material,
gazing upon me with dark eyes.

   "I am Opal," said the second, golden, statue. The recitation
continued down the hall, with each statue speaking in a deep,
feminine voice, identifying herself and her material.

   "I am Jade."

   "I am Sapphire."

   "I am Amethyst."

   "I am Topaz."

   "I am Ruby."

   "I am Diamond."

   Silence stretched out after Diamond spoke, and I began to feel
silly.

   "Hi," I said. "I'm Wulf." Another long pause. "Nice to meet
you."

   "You would enter this sacred place?" Onyx asked.

   "Sure," I replied, "if you don't mind?"

   "Are you of the blood?" asked Opal.

   "No, I'm not," I replied. "I'm just an ordinary, run-of-
the-mill human."

   "Do you come in peace?" asked Jade.

   "Yes," I said.

   "Do you come with love in your heart?" asked Sapphire.

   "I do."

   And so it went, each statue asking me a question, and me
responding.

   "Do you come to awaken the First One?" asked Amethyst.

   "Yes."

   "Are you worthy to awaken the First One?" asked Topaz.

   "I hope so."

   "Are you strong of heart and body?" asked Ruby.

   "I hope so."

   "Then you must show your worthiness," said Diamond.

   I frowned. "How must I show my worthiness?" I was beginning to
get worried.

   "Take us all," explained Onyx, stepping forward. "We must all be
satisfied. Once we have all been pleasured, you may awaken the
First One."

   I think my eyes went wide as hoplons at that point.

   "Phaedra's Tits!" I bellowed. "You mean I have to fucking FUCK
every one of you???"

   "The challenge," explained Onyx, gleaming black fingers reaching
out to touch my cheek, "is geared to the challenger. Had you been
a mighty warrior, you'd have had H Hto fight us all. Had you been
a great wizard, you'd have had to match your sorcery against ours."

   I didn't much like the sound of that, but I didn't press the
matter further. Onyx's fingers touched me. They were warm and
pliant, not cold and hard as I'd expected. She was tall,
well-sculpted, with large breasts and heavy lips -- somewhat
unelf-like, but I didn't mind. Magic had transformed icy stone into
soft flesh, and it was having the desired effect on me.

   So I'd come here expecting a fight, and gotten myself an orgy.
At this point, I wasn't going to argue, but the prospect of taking
on eight of them didn't fill me with confidence. One or two...
three tops... The most I'd ever done was five, and I wasn't even
human then (back in my lion-man days on the plains). I suddenly
longed for the invigorating sex-magic of Sarra's grove.

   Well, I'd cross that ford when I came to it. At the moment, I
had Onyx to deal with.

   Then again, she was dealing with me. These insidious daemonic
creatures probably saw in my mind what I most enjoyed (or perhaps
they just knew what men like in general), and Onyx began matters,
by helping me out of my armor, then kneeling gracefully, taking my
cock -- still surprisingly soft at this point, probably due to my
extreme level of anxiety -- in her hands, and running her tongue
(as black as the rest of her), up its underside, while fixing me
with a piercing stare from her black-in-white eyes.

   "Mm, the outsider seems to enjoy your attentions, sister," said
Opal, stepping forward, slipping an arm around my shoulder. "I will
assist you."

   Yes, she was indeed Opal-colored, and gleamed like polished
gemwork, but she radiated heat like a Litharnan  glass-furnace, and
I sprang to full sail when her lips joined Onyx's at my cock.

   I think this was the test to weed out the weak-willed or those
prone to premature ejaculation. The two alternated for some
minutes, with Onyx taking my entire shaft into her mouth, Opal
licking at my balls, or stroking my shaft as Onyx slid it out
again, then with the roles reversed, Opal sucking and Onyx licking
and making various other annoying sensations.

   How I managed to hold out, I can't say. The fact was that if I
came, the entire elven empire would collapse, and the orcs and
daemons would run rampant, and possibly conquer the world. The
notion that the future of civilization, and avoiding the triumph of
the forces of darkness and chaos, is riding on holding back your
orgasm can be a potent motivator.

   I gave them their few moments, watching them lick and suck at my
tumescent rod, occasionally breaking off to kiss and tease each
other (they weren't entirely automata, I decided), then finally
pulled back and addressed Onyx.

   "I think the idea is for me to take you on, not the other way
around," I said. "Now lie back and think of Elfland."

   Onyx got the idea, lying down on the cold marble (which I did my
best to avoid), allowing me to move between her shining black
thighs, and lick her pussy several times. She enjoyed it, and I
would have continued, but there were seven more statues to do.

   "Sorry for the rush," I said, moving forward, holding my cock
against her cunt, then sliding it inside, "but I'm afraid that the
future of all I hold dear depends upon me finishing this with all
due dispatch."

   "Ohhhh..." Onyx replied. "Point well taken, though it's quite
a... shame..."

   Her breasts heaved as she gasped, nipples hardening. Hands
encircled my buttocks, pulling me into her. She grew steadily
hotter and wetter, and I felt my cock wet with her juices. She had
probably been standing there for a few milennia, I realized, so
getting her off might be easier than it seemed at first. 

   Of course, I'd have to hold out, too, and when Opal moved behind
me, and pressed her warm body against my back, breasts pressing me,
heat radiating from her mouth and cunt, I wondered if I'd last much
beyond the first of my challenges.

   Fortunately for me, Onyx chose that moment to come noisily,
bucking and writhing, nails scratching at my back.

   "Oh, yes!" she cried. "Oh, yes! Take Opal now! Take her, and
hurry!"

   Not the most exciting of love-talk I'd ever heard, but I took
her at her word, pulling out, kissing her briefly (I really TRY to
be considerate, even in the most difficult of situations), then
moving to where Opal had positioned herself, kneeling expectantly,
cunt presented to me between slender thighs, beneath rounded
ass-cheeks and puckered asshole. I rubbed her lips briefly,
slicking them up with my own saliva, then found she was already
more than sufficiently lubricated.

   "So," I said, fitting my cock to her sweet folds of flesh, "what
are you women doing here, and why do I have to do all this?"

   "It's..." she began, then gasped. "It's a little complex..."

   "Never mind," I replied. "Just enjoy."

   "Oh... yes... That's what I'm here for... Yes... Lovely cock you
have, and you're not even an elf..."

   Overwhelm me with enthusiasm, ear-girl, I thought, plunging
away, feeling the second cunt tighten and moisten around me.

   I was still fighting oncoming orgasm. I kept an image of
Professor Bugwallow from the Academy in my mind -- he was the most
unpleasant, ugly and unattractive individual on the faculty, and
probably would be outraged if he knew I used him as a means of
staving off sexual passion. Of course, thinking about him too much
would probably make me never want to have sex again, so I had to
moderate.

   Opal moved faster and faster; obviously I was having the desired
effect. After a moment, I didn't need to thrust at all, but
remained still, hands firmly holding her soft, cushiony buttocks,
as she pistoned forward and backward, my cock racing, slick and
hard, in and out of her, until at last she, too, came, crying
wildly.

   "Jade now, darling man," she said, crawling over to snuggle
against Onyx, and both of us watched me continue my by-now
desperate quest.

   Jade was tall and thin, with very small breasts, but prominent
nipples, and a typically elven face, elongated and serene, clearly
not human. She lay silently as I pressed her thighs apart, touched
her dark green cunt-lips, moistening them with more spittle. This
one, I feared, was going to be a bit more of a challenge.

   Though time remained of the essence (and I couldn't guarantee my
erection would remain healthy, though it was still hard and
uncomfortable as a rod of granite projecting from my thighs), I
took a slower pace with Jade, licking at her large nipples,
watching them harden, then stroking her clit with two fingers
before finally considering getting down to real fucking.

   Again, I think I did the right thing, for though she still did
not speak, she moved with growing passion, hips rotating, hands
seeking out her own nipples, then reaching up to slip between my
lips. I sucked in her fingers, feeling them against tongue and
teeth, and bit down, gently at first, then harder as it seemed to
excite her even more.

   Finally, I put my cock in her, as well, pushing into her tight,
hot recesses. I drove hard, and she writhed in response. I touched
her clit, rubbing it as I fucked, and felt her tense and come for
me.

   "Thanks, Jade," I said. "I'd love to stay and chat but --"

   I was cut off by the assault of Sapphire, the pale blue one (she
reminded me of Nyss, as a matter of fact), who pushed me down onto
my back, grabbed my cock aggressively, and shoved it into her
mouth.

   "Very good," she said, releasing my slick shaft and glaring at
me. "You've dealt with my sisters very well, but now I want you."

   "Well," I said, "you've got me, but --"

   "But nothing! I've been without this for centuries, and I'm not
about to waste my opportunity, no matter what is happening above!"
She moved swiftly astride me, rubbing cockhead to cunt-lips. I saw
moisture dripping down her thighs, and felt an almost painful heat,
which only increased when she plunged down onto me.

   "That's what I want!" she said. "Hard cock inside me... That's
it..."

   She rode me like a knight of Saint Orlan, rising and falling,
breasts bouncing, face rapt and tight.

   "Fuck me!" she cried (I guess elves DO talk like that quite a
bit). "Fuck me hard!"

   "Oh, sister," said Diamond, standing nearby with a bored
expression, "save some for the rest of us!"

   "Piss off! I want him! Make me come!"

   I started to thrust up at her, and she responded with redoubled
enthusiasm.

   That was almost it for me. Four out of eight -- I'd challenge
even the most jaded Xeshite pleasure-muffin to do better.
Unfortunately, I'd been fighting a losing battle against coming
since the beginning, and now Sapphire had me on the brink.

   "Sapphire," I said, desperately, "please..."

   Then she came, literally screaming, tearing at her breasts, hair
flying. I came an instant later, pumping feverishly, feeling
pleasure, but also the desperate realization that I'd failed.

   Sapphire moved off me, my come dripping from her sopping
cunt-lips.

   "Sorry," she said, looking down at my rather sad cock, now
collapsed and lying, slick and gleaming. "I really needed that.
Mind you," she continued, looking at me with sympathy, "the rules
are that we all must be satisfied. That doesn't necessarily mean
that you have to do it with your cock, or that YOU have to do it at
all."

   Of course. Once more, I had been an idiot, and it took the calm
intellect of a female to point it out to me. I stood, shakily, and
approached the last four "women," who sat nearby, in a loose group,
arms round each other.

   "Uhhh, ladies," I began, "if Sapphire is correct, then I'm not
finished yet."

   "No, you're not," said Amethyst. "You'd better not be."

   "We've been deprived of your erect manhood," continued Topaz,
"but there ARE alternatives."

   "Hm," said Ruby. "Perhaps you have a suggestion?"

   "I think he does," Diamond said to her, ignoring me entirely.

   "I'm equal to the task of two more, I think, though my jaw might
lock up," I said. "Any chance I can persuade the other two to amuse
each other?"

   "By Thyra, he's got it!" declared Ruby, throwing her arms around
Diamond.

   "Our thanks, round-ears," replied Diamond. "We couldn't do this
until you asked."

   "Done it before?" I asked.

   "Oh, yes," said Ruby, before engulfing Diamond's face with
kisses. "The two of us aren't terribly fond of men to begin with."

   At another time, I might have felt slighted (then again, maybe
not; some of my best friends were women who preferred other women
-- it has its advantages, believe me), but now I was downright
relieved. As Ruby and Diamond slipped into passion's embrace, I
moved between Amethyst and Topaz, and put my arms around the
shoulders of each.

   "Ladies," I said, "care to play?"

   "Indeed," Amethyst said.

   "Definitely," said Topaz.

   Topaz was a golden-skinned creature with dark red hair, lips and
nipples. I applied fingers and tongue to one nipple, teasing the
other with my fingers. An instant later, I felt Amethyst's tongue
licking at my finger, then saw her engulf both my fingers and
Topaz's nipple with her purple-black lips. Well, maybe I didn't
have TOO much work left, after all.

   Nearby, Diamond and Ruby's breathing grew heavier, shading
imperceptibly into soft moans as they began kissing, then moved on
to nibbling and licking at each other's breasts. Ruby was, not
surprisingly, entirely glossy red, while Diamond was probably the
most interesting of the bunch -- a translucent white, the faint
light gleaming on her softly rounded flanks, thighs and shoulders.

   I moved down to Topaz's loins, leaving her breasts to Amethyst's
tender mercies. I realized that a battle raged above our heads, and
that the sooner I finished the better, but I suppose the call of
passion can be stronger than that of survival sometimes. I licked
gently at Topaz's lips, thick with dark red hair, pressing them
open with my tongue, and touching the tiny bud of her clitoris.

   As I felt the gratifying motion of Topaz's hips, and listened to
her rapidly-increasing indrawn breath, I was surprised when my lips
and tongue were joined by Amethyst's, and in a moment we were quite
happily sharing her soft and succulent, delicate cunt-flesh.

   Mind you, I've seen portrayals of this very act in such diverse
places as Xeshite sex manuals and Kaitian pillow-books, and believe
me, it isn't as easy as it looks. There's really only room for one
person's head between a woman's thighs, and you have to get into
some rather tortuous positions in order to keep everyone happy. We
ended up pretty well situated, with me below, nibbling on Topaz's
dark, sensitive pussy-lips, while Amethyst concentrated on the
swollen prominence of her clitoris. Eventually, each of us slid a
finger into Topaz's moist cunt, sending her into new paroxysms of
ecstasy.

   I'd have loved to stay and continue for a bit, but Topaz, like
most of the other women, seemed to have built up her horniness over
the centuries, and it wasn't long before she was in the throes of
gut-wrenching orgasm, crying out, pressing both of our heads
against her straining pubis, cunt clamping down on our fingers with
sufficient strength, it seemed, to crush a small dwarf.

   I rose, face still moist with her juices, and felt Amethyst's
lips seeking mine.

   "She's had her fun," she whispered. "Perhaps now, I can be taken
care of."

   I was about to move my mouth to her clit and pussy as well, when
I realized that, miracle of miracles, I'd managed to scrape
together the resources for another erection. I smiled.

   "I think that can be arranged," I said, pushing her down to the
marble floor and positioning myself over her.

   "Oh, yes!" Amethyst said, quite delighted at my resurrected
state, and yelped happily as I penetrated her (normally, as noted,
I'd have had time for more foreplay, but this was special).

   Ruby and Diamond, with a fine disregard for the rest of us, were
now in a silent, extremely intent sixty-nine position, heads buried
between each other's thighs, moving only slightly as they licked
and sucked. I continued to plunge in and out of the gratified
Amethyst, I hazarded a look over at them, just in the interest of
scientific observation (coupled with the fact that watching two
women eat each other out makes me unbelievably horny), and saw
Diamond slip a finger between Ruby's buttocks, teasing her asshole,
and finally sliding it inside; an instant later, Ruby suddenly
convulsed, back arching, breasts bobbing, a thin wail escaping her
lips as she came. Then she returned to Diamond's pussy, and a few
moments later, the pale statue-woman was in the throes of her own
climax.

   "Yes," I said, looking down at Amethyst. "Now it's your turn."

   "Uhhhhhh," she replied. "Ahhhhh..."

   And so it went. In a few moments she was over the cliff, her
voice going completely inaudible, face tight, purple eyes clenched
shut.

   "Yesssss," she breathed as I pulled out, my cock still rather on
the hard side. "Perhaps now it can be your turn."

   "Oh, no," I began, "I've already... I mean, there's this battle,
see... and... uhhh... dragon-mage..."

   My words trailed into a meaningless babble as Amethyst and
Sapphire (who looked a little contrite for being the object of my
previous orgasm) kneeled beside me, and began to lick up my cock
shaft, toward the head, one on each side. Sapphire began to pump at
it with her fist as Amethyst's dark purple-black tongue flicked at
the tip and across the glans, and I felt the surging wave of
another orgasm, gathering strength before crashing down onto the
beach of my consciousness (great metaphor, eh?).

   Then Sapphire's lips embraced my steadily-warming flesh, slid
down, then out again, her warmth combining with mine, seeping
through me, reaching fingers to my brain, urging me to let go.

   Amethyst was jacking me off while Sapphire tongued my cockhead
when the explosion came. I'd already come once, so my reservoir was
low, but I managed to pump out a small amount of fluid, which the
two elf/statue/women (or whatever the hell they were) accepted
gratefully, swallowing and licking.

   "Well done, traveler," said Sapphire. "I hope that our next
caller is as entertaining."

   I for one, painfully rising to my feet, gathering up my gear,
and stumbling toward the dragon-mage's sarcophagus, sincerely hoped
that the next caller actually survived his encounter. It had sure
as hell almost killed me.

   Thae'lynn

   The Duchess of Darkoak Hill always thought that she cut quite a
figure in armor -- of course, the black chain which she wore, with
tasteful leather straps and shoulder pieces, was intended primarily
for show, since she had no great interest in combat. All the same,
resplendent in her dark panoply, carried along by her four
minotaurs, now armored themselves, she inspired her troops to
greater efforts, especially those individual warriors who might
think they stood a chance of getting her into bed after the battle.

   Valla stood nearby, noisily cropping grass. Ahead of her, the
battle swirled in the stark light of the moons and stars, now
glaringly bright and annoying, thanks to the damned elves' magic.
The goblin archers hadn't really amounted to much, shot to pieces
and driven back by stern,  mail-clad elven longbowmen. They'd
served their purpose admirably, however, providing cover as
Thrazz's heavily armored orcs moved up, then flung themselves with
suicidal and hateful fury, at the elves' front line.

   Thae'lynn frowned. She wasn't a skilled military observer, but
it seemed to her that the combat in the center had degenerated into
a stalemate, while the elvish cavalry and the orc wolf-riders kept
each other busy on the flanks, and the flying mounts dove and
wheeled overhead, one or two occasionally dropping to earth with a
crash and a puff of dust.

   The dragon-riders were near-invincible, but there were only
three. As Thae'lynn watched, a great wyrm flapped across the face
of the moon, wreathed in flames, pursuing an orcish wyvern.

   Now, even Thae'lynn's troops were involved, pressing in on one
elvish flank. So far, the battle could go either way, but with a
quiet smile, Thae'lynn knew that her hole card had yet to be
played. Soon, Mazzor and his daemons would enter the fray.

   It was time to put her other plan into effect. She whistled
sharply, and in a moment, several dark figures melted out of the
shadows around her. They were tall, thin dark elves, clad in dark
cloaks.

   "You know the plan, my assassins," she said softly. "You are to
kill King Thrazz, and leave evidence behind that the culprits are
high elf scouts. You are to plant Thrazz's last will and testament,
leaving command of his army to me. Do this now."

   The lead assassin bowed. "We obey, Dark Lady." Then the figures
were gone.

   Thrazz

    King Thrazz was impatient, eager to see the battle resolve
itself. The elves fought well, he had to admit. Then again, they
had reason to -- their entire nation was at stake. A victory here,
Thrazz thought, would being his orcs to the very gates of the
Silver Tower, where the Lady herself would know his strength.

   And strength it was! he thought. Not like those idiot orcs who
served under him, or those savage goblins, effete dark elves, or
slovenly humans. No! Thrazz the Conqueror (for this is what he
intended to call himself) alone knew what greatness and strength
were. Soon, all the world would know it, as well!

   But here he stood, impotent and unable to effect the battle.
Almost all of his reserves were committed, but the elves still
held. The outcome of the fight was out of his hands, and entirely
in the hands of his warriors. But, Thrazz wondered, were they good
hands in which to place such a precious destiny? They were orcs,
and goblins, and  weak-willed humans, after all...

   At that moment, Thrazz realized that he was no longer what he
had once been. He hated his own people, now, despised them for
their weakness and primitive lack of civilization. He felt, and in
heart and soul he knew, dammit, that he was far more than a mere
orc, now.

   But, he thought, if he was not an orc, what was he?

   A great shout went up from the orcish warriors ahead of him. He
looked across the shadowed plains, and saw something amazing and
terrifying.

   Mazzor, Thae'lynn's damned daemonic pet, waded through the
elvish line, wielding a great sword of lightning, picking up elves,
gutting or decapitating them, screaming horribly, wings spreading
out like a great black-green cloak. Dozens of creatures scurried
around him -- malformed humanoid things with extra arms or heads,
tails and talons; amorphous storms of eyes and teeth which reached
out with black tentacles; ravening beasts with gnashing jaws and
smoldering red eyes.

   The elves gave way before Mazzor's assault. Sensing the danger,
one of the elven dragon riders swooped low, violet-glowing sword
whirling. Mazzor exulted, and took to the sky, grappling with the
dragon, wrestling it to the ground with a thunderous crash,
strangling it, trading blows with its rider, and finally killing
the elf, as well.

   Mazzor threw his arms up to the sky and cried out in pure
daemonic joy.

   Up and down the line, the elves seemed seized by fear, and fell
back, either slowly and deliberately, fighting all the way, or in
complete panic and despair. Sensing their moment, the orcs pursued.

   "Yes!" Thrazz cried, silently. "Yes! Kill the bastards! Send
them running!"

   He prepared to spur his wolf forward, when a movement nearby
caught his eye.

   Thrazz's senses were instantly on alert. He had not survived and
prospered this long by being a fool, and he was not about to begin
being one now.

   "Guards!" he shouted. "GUARDS! TO ME!"

   But nothing happened. Instead, several shadowy forms
materialized out of the darkness. The nearest one spoke.

   "Your guards are gone, Great King," it said, high and melodious,
its tone almost playful. "We killed them, you see. You are next,
Thrazz. Yessss."

   Thrazz didn't hesitate. He leaped from the back of his wolf,
throwing himself with maddened fury at the speaker, whirling
Brainsquasher with all his considerable might. To his amazement, he
realized that it was a dark elf assassin, staring in consternation
at the prodigious leap, then lashing out with a dagger. Thrazz
dodged, amazing himself with his agility, and struck back, cutting
down the smarmy little worm in a shower of blood and skull
fragments. He  roared in triumph, and the surviving assassins
looked downright terrified.

   His wolf was busy, as well. It had taken a couple of dagger
hits, but finished off a second dark elf, and leaped at a third.

   "So the Dark Lady couldn't be my subordinate, could she?" Thrazz
demanded, racing after the next assassin. "Sent her snot-nosed
little minions after me? Well, fuck off, you point-eared little
puddles of slime mold!"

   The next assassin died, as well. The last survivor stared in
abject horror, then turned and tried to run. The wolf didn't let
him, but took him down with a shove, and indelicately ripped his
throat out, amid geysering dark blood.

   Thrazz screamed. Anger thundered through his veins. After making
certain the assassins were all dead, he remounted the wolf, and
rode pell-mell toward a regiment of black orcs who stood not far
away, one of the last of Thrazz's reserve.

   "The dark elf bitch!" he bellowed at the colonel, who gaped in
amazement. "She tried to have me killed! Fuck her! Go back and cut
out her black heart, and show it to her before she dies, gods damn
it! Do this now!"

   "Your Majesty --"

   "DO IT NOW!"

   "Yes, sir!" The colonel turned to his troops and began to roar
orders. Instantly, the black orcs broke ranks, and began to run
back, readying weapons, preparing to attack Thae'lynn.

   Thrazz continued to rage and bellow, even after the orcs had
departed.

   The fucking bitch! How dare she! She'd wanted this from the
beginning, he knew. Always keeping her troops back, trying to
seduce him... Fuck her, the bitch!

   He was sorry he wasn't accompanying the troops to attack her,
but he had to keep an eye on the battle. Gritting his teeth and
pushing Thae'lynn's treachery to the back of his mind, Thrazz urged
his mount forward, to where the battle still raged, and the elves
fell back, their unshakable morale finally wavering.

   Wulf

    I walked forward, stopping occasionally to put my armor back
on. Around me, the statue-women lay in various poses, breathing
deeply, some moaning. As I thought to myself that I couldn't really
take credit for their satiation, I wondered whether they were truly
statues, or (a hell of a lot more likely) elven women who had
volunteered to serve as the tomb's guardians. One by one, they
returned to their niches and grew still, becoming statues once
more.

   Before me, Valaron's sarcophagus began to glow, emitting a hot
yellow light through the cracks beneath its lid. As I watched, the
lid flew off, flung high into the dim shadows overhead, then landed
with a crash behind the coffin, shattering into fragments.

   The glow rose from the now-open sarcophagus, a shaft of yellow
light. In it rose a towering figure, at least twice my height. It
was clad in long, green and blue robes, and though its overall form
was humanoid, its head was that of a great, crested dragon, and as
it rose into the air, I saw a muscular, finned tail hanging down
below its feet. Tall wings rose up from its back -- they were
folded now, but when unfurled they would be huge.

   "Lord Valaron?" I said. "Father of the elven race?"

   "I am," it said, voice deep and rumbling, part human, part
thunder. "But I am both father and mother. You come to awaken me."

   "I do. Your children are in peril."

   Valaron nodded, its magnificent head bobbing up and down
majestically. "This is known to me. The green-skinned ones do great
harm to my children, as my children did harm to them countless
generations ago."

   "The Silver Lady asks your assistance."

   Valaron looked contemplative. "That I will give, though in many
ways my children displease me. They are haughty and arrogant, and
sought to impose their will on the world in ages past. Today, they
reap the violence which they sowed long ago." He paused. "You are
of the race of men."

   "Yes. I'm called Wulf. I come here at the behest of the Silver
Lady, who told me that no one of the blood could enter your tomb."

   "So it is, man. It was my final expression of disappointment in
the race I'd helped to create. Your kind is different. You are
arrogant, but you are also humble. You are violent, but you are
also gentle. You are foolish, but you are also wise. Every
sentiment and passion of mortality is yours, and you express them
all, even in your short lives. The god who made you must have been
wise, indeed."

   I was flattered, but we were getting off the subject. "There's
a daemon," I said.

   "Yes. He brings his minions to this world, and draws his power
from a great gate. This must not be. The planes are sacrosanct, and
must never be open to each other, lest all be destroyed. I will
close the gate, and I will fight the daemon. Come."

   "Uhhhhh, your grace?" I asked, not sure what form of address to
use. "One more item -- your, uh, guardians," I said, indicating the
elf-statues, now back in their place, silent and stony, "seemed
rather lonely after their long wait. Have you considered setting
them free one of these days?"

   Valaron looked at me with a strange expression, which might have
been the dragon equivalent of amusement.

   "I see your heart, man. You feel for my guardians, and wish them
peace and the freedom of worldly desires. Fear not. Their servitude
will last but a few centuries more, then they will be replaced by
others, and they will go free. Does this please you?"

   "Other than the fact that I'll be long dead by the time you free
them, yes," I replied.

   "Good." With that, the great dragon-man floated down from his
sarcophagus, across the floor, and through the door. As he did so,
his aspect changed. His robes transformed into elaborate silver
armor, and a long, gnarled black staff tipped with a violet-glowing
gem appeared in his hand.

   I stumbled after, lacing up my mail coat, grabbing my spear, and
strapping on my sword. If there was a fight coming, I was pretty
sure the damned dragon-freak would request my aid, and I wasn't
really about to deny him anything.

   When we reached the entrance to the tomb, and emerged under the
open sky, I received a terrible shock. Galewing remained loyally
where I'd left him, but even he seemed overwhelmed by the horror
unfolding before us.

   The elves were in retreat everywhere, falling back, hard pressed
by goblins, orcs and humans. In the center, however, was the most
terrifying thing. Mazzor, the daemon, stood in the midst of a horde
of winged, clawed, tentacled, or crawling hell-things, chasing down
elf after elf, tearing them limb from limb, or plucking them from
horses and rending their bodies. He was less than a mile distant -- 
I may have actually heard the screams of his victims, or perhaps I
imagined them.

   Valaron tilted his crested head backwards and emitted a terrible
scream, which echoed across the battlefield. Then he spread his
wings and rose aloft, purple and white light exploding from his
staff and streaming into the air around him.

   "Follow, man! The elves will rally on us!"

   Gods dammit, I thought, hastening over to Galewing and hurriedly
mounting up. What sin have I committed, what crime am I guilty of
that keeps landing me in the middle of the shitstorm? All I'd
wanted to do was sail my stupid little vessel to Stoneburg or
Litharna, set up shop as a professional burglar, pay off a few
guards, and live a life of ease. However, here I was -- dressed up
like a fucking ear-boy, mounted on a winged horse and following
some demented draconic demigod into desperate battle with daemons.

   Good work if you can get it, huh?

   Thae'lynn

    A pair of dark elf warriors hastened back to where Thae'lynn
stood expectantly on her platform, watching the battle progress.

   "Dark Lady!" cried one. "Treachery! The orcs are attacking us!"

   She stood, mind whirling, suddenly alarmed. "What?" she
demanded. "How many?"

   "A regiment at least, Lady. They are calling for your head as
they fight!"

   "Then stop them, dammit! You know your job!"

   "I'm sorry, Lady," the warrior said, apologetically. "Most of
our warriors have been committed to battle. We've less than a
regiment remaining ourselves."

   Thae'lynn made an angry, snarling sound. That fucking orcling
had discovered her plans, and had turned on her! What to do now?
She could withdraw her troops from battle, but that might cause the
elves to rally and destroy the orcs. She could flee, but to where?
Perhaps...

   "Tell my soldiers to hold for the moment!" she ordered, bounding
down from her platform, and striding over to Valla. The proud black
unicorn stood stock still, eyes glowing, as if he sensed the threat
to his mistress. "I will aid them myself!"

   "Yes, lady!" The warriors dashed off. Thae'lynn turned to her
minotaurs.

   "Did you hear?" she asked them, grabbing a handful of Valla's
mane and pulling herself onto the beast's broad back.

   "Yes," rumbled Rak. "We will fight for our Lady." The three
others grunted in assent.

   "Get your weapons and follow me, then!" Thae'lynn ordered, then
paused, and turned, addressing Nur. "You! Go unleash Yalvar and
bring him! We'll need all the help we can get!"

   "I obey," Nur said, and ambled off.

   "Come!" Thae'lynn shouted. "We'll take these orcish bastards!
There'll be the sweetest rewards you can imagine after the battle!"
She meant it, too. The notion of a lovely little set-piece orgy
with tiger, unicorn, minotaurs, and her lovely, huge-pricked daemon
set Thae'lynn's heart to racing, and her blood-lust swelled to
bursting. Oh, yessss, she thought, just wait...

   The minotaurs howled and bellowed lustily as the followed her.

   Wulf

    A great shout went up from below as the elves saw us overhead.
Beside us, the two surviving dragon riders took up position -- the
first was an ancient elf warrior in silver armor, riding a
glittering green mount, whose wings beat with a deafening roar; the
second was a damned attractive female, clad in black plate, blonde
hair streaming behind her, one hand clutching a long lance, whose
blade seemed made of trapped lightning.

   "Lord Valaron!" shouted the male. "We ride with you!"

   "Ride, children!" Valaron cried back, his own wings creating a
storm of wind that buffeted me and Galewing. Light leaped from his
staff. "I summon the energies which will banish the daemons!"

   I felt my hair stir and begin to stand up, and felt a crackling
lambency in the air. I knew enough to realize that, yes, Valaron
was drawing in about every spare scrap of magic on the battlefield,
and concentrating it in his staff. What would happen when he
released it didn't bear thinking about.

   The daemon was below us, surrounded by his nightmare host. He
paused in tearing the head off a riven elf-corpse, and looked up at
us with a shriek of rage.

   "Now, daemon!" thundered Valaron, swooping low, with me and the
two dragon-riders close behind. "Now is your time!"

   Thae'lynn

    The black orc strike force was unprepared for Thae'lynn's
spirited countercharge. Though the dark elves had been driven back,
the sudden appearance of the Duchess, mounted on her ferocious
black unicorn, followed closely by a ravening tiger and four
minotaurs, each armed with a great battleaxe, stunned the orcs,
giving the dark elves breathing space.

   Thae'lynn bent low, swinging her sword and taking an orc in the
throat, even as Valla speared a second on his horn, paused
momentarily to rip mouthfuls of flesh from the twitching body, then
charged forward. A squad of dark elf lizard riders formed around
her, driving a wedge into the attacking orcs, who held for a
moment, then broke and ran, scattering across the plains.

   "Enough!" Thae'lynn cried, swinging her sword overhead. "To
Thrazz's tent! We'll end this now!"

   With a shout, the surviving dark elves followed the black
unicorn and its rider, pounding across the sward, toward Thrazz's
headquarters.

   Damn his eyes, Thae'lynn thought, we'll see who leads this army
come daybreak!

   Thrazz

    The orc king's rage at the dark elves' treachery was soon
overshadowed by his shock at the change in the battle. It was all
at the limits of his vision, now, but his scouts reported that just
as the elves were in full route, a great blast of light had
exploded from the barrow which they defended, and a terrible
monster had emerged, taken to the sky, and rallied the elves to
him.

   Now, Thrazz saw -- it was a tall, winged shape, somewhat like
the daemon Mazzor, accompanied by a winged horse and the last two
dragon-riders. He screamed in anger as he saw the improvised force
swoop down upon Mazzor, where the mighty daemon and his minions
still held the orcish center, scattering elves before him, and
slaughtering them.

   "GODS DAMN YOU!" he roared and raged. "SHAMANS! TO ME! FUCKING
SHAMANS GET HERE, RIGHT NOW!" He paused, grabbed his chalice, and
cried out one more time, "BEEEEEEEEEERRRRRRRR!"

   At that moment, however, everything fell to pieces. A rabble of
orcs burst into his camp.

   "The dark elves!" one shouted. "They're coming!"

   It was not much of a warning. A heartbeat later, dozens of dark
elf warriors followed, hewing and slicing. Then, Thrazz's bodyguard
-- fifty mighty orcs chosen for their loyalty and ability to follow
orders -- counterattacked, and the orc king's tent and camp was a
bloody melee filled with shouts, screams and frantic movement.

   Thrazz dropped Brainsquasher, and drew a great falchion --
bigger, and better suited to this kind of work. The fucking dark
elves had been a drag on the operation from the beginning! He'd
finish them now!

   A bellowing minotaur threw itself at him. He finished it with a
single sword-stroke, slicing its throat cleanly. Then a mighty
tiger attacked, roaring, claws slashing. The tiger took Thrazz a
few moments to dispatch, but he did so with little trouble, and
advanced grimly, searching for the one he knew would be here.

   A wild, screaming, near-naked figure rose from the shadows,
knife in hand. Thrazz stepped back, and the knife slashed empty
air. He struck, nearly cutting the dark elf priest in half. He
chuckled to himself. The bitch had a real fondness for her priests,
and he'd just killed one.

   Then he saw her. It was that hateful little cunt, Thae'lynn,
mounted on her black unicorn, hacking at his bodyguard.

   "ELF BITCH!" Thrazz screamed. The hatred and anger, the
exultation and joy of the past weeks flowed through him in that
moment, and he raced forward, heedless of his bodyguards' cries to
wait for them. "I'll fucking kill you!"

   Valla, the unicorn, saw him, turned, lowered its head and
charged. Thrazz didn't care. He was The Conqueror! He was
invincible! No mortal weapon could harm him now! He would kill this
usurper bitch, and become lord of all! Now...

   Thrazz's plans did not extend much beyond the next instant, for
as he watched in sudden dismay, Valla's glowing silver horn pierced
his chest, thrust through, and emerged in a spray of black blood on
the other side. Before Thrazz could even utter a dying curse,
Thae'lynn cocked her arm backwards and swung, sending his head
flying across the plains, splattering gore.

   So died His Majesty, King Thrazz, one hundred and thirteenth
Lord of the Iron Gate, slayer of Sir Murris the Red, Master of Nine
Tribes, near-conqueror of the Elven Isles, and owner of one of the
most extensive collection of mugs in all the orcish realms.

   "Fuck you, too," Thae'lynn spat, as Valla rent the orc lord's
corpse and swallowed huge, gory chunks of his flesh.

   Thae'lynn

    With the death of their warlord, the orcs went wild, throwing
themselves at her dark elves with suicidal frenzy. In a few
moments, the encampment was a charnel house, with dozens of slain
orcs and dark elves scattered everywhere. Thae'lynn looked about
and realized that she and Valla were the sole survivors of the
fight. Yalvar, and her four beloved minotaurs also lay dead.

   She jumped lightly down from Valla, to gaze down at Thrazz's
mutilated body. Of its own accord, her hand reached down to touch
the silver and ruby chalice which hung at the orc king's belt.
Magic... She felt it. She took up the chalice, and held it close.

   Sadness touched her for a moment -- sadness at the death, and
the loss of her lovers -- then Thae'lynn realized that her plans
had finally come to fruition. The battle was as good as won, and in
the morning she'd take control of the invaders, and lead them to
total victory. With Mazzor at her side...

   In the distance, a terrible yellow light bloomed, and she heard
daemonic cries of pain and despair. Mazzor!

   Shock and terror raced through her, as she felt her
daemon-lover's fear. Something was terribly, terribly wrong.

   With a cry, she urged Valla forward, across the field, to where
Mazzor and his daemons fought.

   Wulf

    "Begone foul things!" Valaron shouted, and a suddenly-
exploding bubble of light expanded from him and his staff, lighting
the plains like the light of the sun for an instant.

   When my vision cleared, the daemon-things around Mazzor had
vanished, and he himself looked downright tatty,  his scales and
wings torn and battered, his deep yellow eyes filled with fear and
indecisiveness.

   "It should have banished them all!" Valaron said to me in
astonishment. "Something must be holding the daemon's spirit here!"

   "It matters not!" cried the female dragon-rider. "We'll finish
the bastard ourselves! Thravana Khula!" The dragon lashed forward,
jaws flashing, claws reaching out for the confused and suddenly
fearful daemon-lord.

   But Mazzor had a few tricks left. Fire burst from his eyes,
engulfing the dragon, sending it tumbling to the sward, its rider
tumbling from her saddle.

   Valaron himself strode forward, seeming to grow in stature, and
violet-blue flames wreathed him as he did so.

   "True death comes for you daemon!" he shouted, raising his
staff. "Beware!"

   Mazzor looked up then, real terror in his alien face. A gout of
violet fire burst from Valaron's staff, obscuring the daemon for a
moment.

   Then it was over, the flames gone. Mazzor was nowhere to be
seen.

   "Did you kill him?" I asked, quietly.

   Valaron's draconic brows knit in vexation. "I do not think so,"
he said. "I think he teleported himself before I attacked."

   "Gods."

   The last dragon grounded heavily nearby, and its rider
dismounted to help the black-armored woman. She and her dragon were
still alive, but seemed stunned, moving feebly.

   "Don't worry, man," Valaron said. "The daemon lost almost all
his power when I closed the gate. He'll be no threat now, and has
no way of returning to his realm."

   I nodded. "Then we've won?"

   "Perhaps," Valaron said, scanning the battlefield. The orcs were
now in retreat, though some fought gamely. The elves pressed
forward, however, and it seemed that, despite appalling casualties,
the good guys had managed to win one. "Perhaps."

   Across the plains, I saw a flash of light. Mazzor, I thought, on
the other end of his teleport. With a shout, and without stopping
to consult with Valaron or the dragon- riders, I spurred Galewing
into the air, and guided him to the place.

   Thae'lynn

    A bubble of dark light formed in Valla's path, causing the
unicorn to draw up short, rearing and snorting in sudden surprise.
Then Thae'lynn saw Mazzor's battered form, standing in front of
her. He was not the daemon he had once been -- blood ran from
wounds, his wings had several ragged holes, his overall demeanor
was one of exhaustion and defeat.

   "I am banished, Lady," he said. "The gate to my home is closed,
and it will take centuries to find it again."

   Thae'lynn gasped, staring in disbelief. "Are we defeated, then?"

   "The battle is lost, Lady. We must flee before the dragon mage
finds me. He will destroy me utterly."

   "Where can we go?"

   "I have enough power to teleport us from the islands, at least
a short distance -- where they cannot find us. We will decide what
to do then."

   Thae'lynn gritted her teeth. Her triumph had been so close, then
it had been snatched away in a single explosion of light... Damn
these elves and their foolish allies... And damn those unreliable
orcs...

   "Let us go then," she said, softly. "Can you bring Valla?"

   "I think so, Lady. Prepare yourself, my love."

   She stared at that. "What did you call me?"

   "My love, Lady." Mazzor looked suddenly sadder. "I once rejected
mortal love. I may have been a man once, or perhaps an elf, or a
dragon -- I don't remember. Whatever my past, I have not felt love
in milennia. I do now, Lady. I love you."

   Oh, perfect, Thae'lynn thought. A daemon lord, following me
around like a puppy...

   Then she realized what he had said, and she slumped heavily
against Valla's neck.

   "I love you, too Mazzor," she said. "Let us stay together."

   "We shall, my love," Mazzor boomed, his voice still strong, but
very, very tired. "Now prepare yourself."

   Thae'lynn clutched Valla close. A cry from overhead broke her
concentration. She looked up to see a silver-mailed figure mounted
upon a black, winged horse, diving down upon her, lance set, aimed
at her heart.

   "Thae'lynn!" the warrior cried. "I'm still not dead!"

   It was the damned human, the one called Wulf. Hatred, mixed with
a certain amount of admiration and even a trace of desire, raced
through her as the lance raced toward her heart, but then Mazzor's
spell took effect, and Wulf, his winged mount, the battered and
bloody plains, and the elven realms themselves, vanished into a
blur of green light.

   A sense of falling gripped her. Valla screamed in fear.

   "We are gone now, Lady," Mazzor's voice echoed in her head. "We
are safe."

    Wulf

   Green light jumped from the tatter-winged daemon, surrounding
Thae'lynn and her mount. An instant later, my  lancehead swept
through the air where she had once been, and Galewing crashed to
the ground, sending me flying.

   Damn you, I thought as I felt myself rushing toward the ground.
Damn you, you fucking dark elf bitch...

   Then again, I thought, as the ground raced up to smite me, she
was kind of cute...

   WHAM!!!

   *  *  *  *

    At length, I awoke, as I knew I would. The sky overhead was
brilliant blue, and clouds chased each other around the bright,
warm sun. I raised myself to a sitting position, momentarily
disoriented, and realized with a start that I lay in the middle of
Sarra's grove. Then, I realized I was naked.

   "Our thanks, Wulf the Freelance," said a voice, echoing in the
still air. It was the Silver Lady, but I could not see her. "There
is one who wishes to see you."

   The air before me shimmered, and a figure appeared. My heart
lurched; it was Sarra. She gazed at me with wide brown eyes, and
was dressed in a long white shift.

   "Hello, Wulf," she said. "Raven said that it was all right for
me to come back to you. For a while, anyway."

   I blinked back tears, and felt my heart race with another, more
basic emotion.

   "Make love to me, Wulf," Sarra said, stepping close, pulling her
shift up over her head, and standing naked before me. "Before I go
back."

   I won't go into detail as to exactly what we did -- you've
gotten enough explicity boinking already in this story. For once,
I'd like to keep my carnal activities private. Suffice to say, it
was a combination of sweaty, animalistic fucking, and tender
affection. When at last we finished, lying together beneath a pure
blue sky, I realized how I truly felt.

   "I love you, Sarra," I whispered.

   Sarra's tear-filled eyes gazed back at me as she grew faint,
indistinct, transparent, then vanished altogether.

   "I'm with Raven again now," her voice echoed, "but I love you,
and I'll never forget you."

   Then I was alone in the grove, torn between joy and sadness.

   The Silver Lady's voice echoed once more.

   "She is back in the eternal realms," she said, "and we are
forever grateful to you for saving our realms."

   I sighed, not terribly impressed. "Grateful doesn't pay the
rent, your majesty. With all due respect, that is."

   The still-invisible Lady's tone was sympathetic. "You've done
much for little reward, Freelance. I can offer you what you first
wanted when you came to our realm, however. I will send you
wherever you desire."

   Big deal, I thought bitterly. I took one look around me at my
beloved Sarra's most sacred place, and at the elven realm which
contained it.

   Nope, I didn't mind leaving.

   "I'll accept your offer," I said, "on the condition that you
provide me with some clothing and protection when I get there."

   "We will do all that and more. Where do you wish to go?"

   Well, that was the hundredweight gold question, wasn't it? The
White Empire contained too many bad memories, and besides, I'd
joined the imperial army to get away from various police warrants.
Litharna had possibilities, but they were a bit too hard on
sorcerers, and I had a hankering to cast some spells. The other
human realms didn't really hold much appeal for me either, though
one place stood out in my mind. The Veldt Lands, I wondered; back
to my beloved Ushandra the Guardswoman? Of all the women I'd known
in the past year, she and Sarra were the ones for which I felt the
most love and admiration, but like Sarra, Ushandra was from a
different world. My weary heart and soul longed for thick walls,
crowded streets, real human food, and warm companionship. I hoped
I'd see Ushandra again someday, but for now I wanted to go
someplace where I could truly be at home.

   Yes, that was it. Stoneburg, the Free City. One of the most
populous, powerful and corrupt city-states in the realms. A place
with a Thieves' Quarter that took up half the city. A place where
the guards were even less trustworthy than the criminals, and where
everything was available if you had the money. In short, the
perfect place for a petty little cutpurse like me, where I could
drown myself in civilized decadence, and forget all about the last
year's travails.

   "Stoneburg," I said. "I want to go to Stoneburg."

   "So it shall be done," the Lady said. "But always know that I
will remember you, though my people may not. Now, we depart..."

   Sarra's grove spun dizzyingly, whirling into a blue-green
pinwheel, then faded into blackness, replaced suddenly with grey.
The motion stopped, and I found myself standing before towering,
battlemented walls, beside a road bustling with wagons, carts,
horses, and foot traffic. Stoneburg the Eternal, I thought. I'm
really here.

   "I will remember, Wulf the Freelance," echoed the Lady's voice.
"I will remember you."

   True to her word, the Lady had gifted me with a finely-made
tunic and trousers, leather boots, an elvish sword, and a backpack
full of provisions. At my belt hung a pouch, heavy with jingling
coins.

   With a silent thanks to the Lady, and bittersweet memories of
cherished Ushandra, the tireless lion-women,  evil Snake Woman,
perverse Lady Xylara, slave-woman Alrynna, hot-blooded Nineh,
golden Sarra, and even a vaguely fond warmth mixed with hatred for
the wicked Thae'lynn, I shouldered my pack, and joined the throngs
tramping eagerly through the gates of Stoneburg.

   Epilog

   Thae'lynn

    A chill wind tore at Thae'lynn, Valla, and Mazzor as the trio
clung tenaciously to a tiny spur of rock amid the crashing surf.
Foam and icy spray drenched them periodically, but Thae'lynn
refused to complain.

   "How long until your people arrive?" Mazzor demanded, lowering
his human-dragon head against the wind. "We've been here for
hours!"

   "Soon now, that's all I can tell you!" she shot back irritably.
"I sent a message to my cousins, and they dispatched a galley to
get us. It could take hours, it could take days!"

   "We won't last days, Thae'lynn," Mazzor growled. "We'll freeze
to death first."

   "Not liking mortal existence so much now, are we, Lord Mazzor?"
Thae'lynn said, hugging close to Valla's sopping flank. "We'll
live, don't you fret! Just stop complaining!"

   Mazzor dutifully shut up, and wrapped his wings around himself
and his two companions as best he could.

   They'd be here soon, Thae'lynn thought, and then she'd make for
a nice, warm cabin, and sleep for a week. Then she'd return to
Darkoak Hill and enjoy civilized comforts for a time, before
embarking on her next venture.

   The Ruby Chalice was safe at her side -- she knew it contained
powerful elven magic, and was eager to probe its secrets. And Lord
Mazzor, despite the fact that his powers were at low ebb, and he
would be marooned in this world for centuries, was still a potent
ally. Besides, he loved her, and remained the most exciting animal
she had ever bedded. Then, of course, there was Valla. No one in
the dark elven realms had anything like him!

   She suppressed a chuckle. A few more hours of discomfort, she
thought, then we go home.

   Then, she thought, mind growing suddenly darker, we think of
what we will do to Wulf the Freelance, and how we will take
vengeance on the elven realms.

   The future was beginning to look interesting.

   -- END --

   [So ends the current cycle -- Wulf will be back, though the
author cannot promise exactly when (hopefully by mid-summer or so).
Future installments will feature (among other things) Wulf's
adventures in and out of bed with the tiger-babe Li  (furry fans
take note), battles against a coven of snotty, pretentious vampires
in the anti-sorcery renaissance land of Litharna (Masquerade fans
take note), his first encounter with a woman who will eventually be
very important to him (waterfall sex fans take note; the
possibilities are endless...), and his eventual bizarre (though not
at all monogamous) permanent relationship(s). Also, we will find
out whether magic or technology is truly superior. See ya then...] 

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